Hesitant Mockery

Many questioning eyes look at you as you stroll into the open office dressed as a dominatrix, the nude Mrs. Kanich shuffling behind you on her knees. Her harness lets out few clink sounds.

"Jenny, I don't think I've ever seen you wear that particular outfit yet," Raph, a the most recent addition to your team compliments "It fits nicely."

You feel his and the rest of your co-workers' eyes travel your leather hugged body and then look at the embarrassed woman following you.

"That's a new look for Ms. Kanich too," Jim, a man in his thirties, says with a nervous laugh.

A smug smile crawls onto your face. "Well, I think she can tell you herself." You turn to your **** sitting on her ankles at your feet, and say "Slut, tell them your new role."

The formerly proud woman was having trouble looking people in the eye as she said "I, um, I'm Miss Jackson's sex **** now. I have to do what she says."

"So if I asked you to lick my boots?" you ask.

"I would have to obey," she mummers, intently staring at an unoccupied corner of the room, arms crossed over her breasts.

"Look at me," you order. Her eyes look up at you, but her face remains as down cast as possible. She knows what is coming next. The rush of power is intoxicating; seeing her submission. You are in control and it feels good. "Lick my boots."

She looks up at you as she bows lower. Her face starts to redden but you don't know if it is anger or embarrassment.

Her tongue tentatively taps the toe of your boot. "I said lick," you correct her in an even tone. She licks the leather properly. Then again, this time moving her head forward for a longer lick. For her third lick, her tongue travels over the top of your foot, then down the side to hook under your arch.

The only sound you can hear is your own breathing and the slick gliding of her tongue on your leather.

The silence is broken by Jim whistling "how the mighty have fallen." A few people chuckle at this.

The moment broken, there is an awkward silence until Rachel, an older secretary, suggests "maybe we should get back to work?"

She is right your interlude has probably made the tasks pile up. New to being a dominatrix, you obediently sit at your desk and send Ms. Kanich to hers.

But can only answer a few emails. You keep thinking of the shamed milf at her nearby desk. Why are you trying to work anyways? You have the Rulebook. You'll write a rule to free up your time later for the moment you want Ms. Kanich to go through some more humiliation.

"You know she isn't properly covered," you say pulling some markers from your desk. "Why don't you guys fix that."

You approach the harnessed milf and start the process by writing "Jenny's property" across her forehead. Jim picks up a marker and joins you. He grips her jaw, drawing a dick on her check and writing "cocksucker" below it.

One by one your co-workers crowd around to write "plz slap" on her tit, label her a "piss ****," or provide instructions of where to put cocks. You step back and admire the view of the haughty businesswoman naked and humiliated by her co-workers. She still makes attempts to cover herself, putting a hand over her cunt when someone isn't writing "50c a fuck" or drawing sperm swimming towards her slit. But she is compliant, resigned to her fate, letting her self be pushed around and manhandled.

You get up to leave. "I am getting some more toys. Keep up the good work," you command. "****, you can keep covering yourself, but give them access to write wherever they like."

When you return, you find her deliciously decorated. She is currently bent over to allow Rachel to write "WH" on one as cheek, and "RE" on the other. Presumably her exposed anus is serving as the "o".

A naughty limerick is written across her back. A few of the men are reciting it for Ms. Kanich.

There once was a woman, Kanich
She turned out to be a bitch
With no sense of fun
She's worse than a nun
How her dried up old cunt must itch

Making you feel very proud you brought such joy to the whole office, aside from Ms. Kanich. You have a rather large Hitachi "muscle relaxer" in your hand. That George, a pudgy man from IT, generously offers to plug in for you.

"Lie down on the floor," you order your ****, "legs wider." She looks up at you, making eye contact. For a second, you feel the twinge of fear you felt when you met her earlier today. She isn't blushing anymore and a part of you wants to bow. In a way you do bow, getting on all-fours, and crawling to your prey.

You turn the Hitachi on and the large, angry red ball on its tip starts vibrating. Your "magic wand" taps the milfs belly button and she inhales sharply. It travels down, through her bikini-waxed pubes and to her pussy. Ms. Kanich's eyes wince shut and her mouth clenches. You tenderly press the monstrous vibrator onto her slit, causing her to let out a high pitched whimper.

Most of the floor is crowding around you. You love it; you're an exhibitionist after all. Part of you is also submissive and you imagine yourself '****' to orally service this woman in front of your peers. Shuffling closer, you bring your face closer to the bitch's twat. Her **** arousal is already starting to flavor the air. Your tongue sneaks a tentative lick and finds her cunt isn't old nor dry.

It is soft and wet. You want more; your tongue keeps returning to lap up more of her sour juices. It is so deliciously naughty to be licking and vibing one co-worker in front of the others. Your audience loves it to complimenting you and cheering you on. She twitches beneath you but doesn't try to escape. Idly, you wonder if maybe you had done this sooner you could have some how made this cold woman warm up to you.

Is she moaning? You pop up and discover she is. Her eyes are still closed, but her mouth is now open. "P-please" she begs softly. Her hands are scratching at the cheap carpet below her. Your fingers find there way to her slit, and two easily slip inside. She cries out and starts breathing heavily.

Soon she is moaning again, louder. They are deep feminine moans. Your fingers work faster. Her hips thrust into the vibrator. The moans mix with with high pitched gasps. Gasps blur into moans that blur into gasps. They grow faster and faster, louder and louder. Finally she squeals twisting and turning. Her fluids drench your hand in her pussy. And she is left panting.

"Looks like we have a squirter," comments Jim the other bystanders laugh their agreement. Someone suggests it proves she liked that.

"No, I was..." protests Ms. Kanich. sitting up, "it's just..." But she is unable to deny the splattering of dark spots across the carpet between her legs.