Push on...

He stood up and his two guests followed him out of the room. They left Nicola the bleached-blond secretary behind. They left me dancing for her.

I didn't want to continue - I felt utterly humiliated. But I had signed a deal. I had accepted this. I had agreed to dance for money – and evidently Nicola was my superior, whether I liked it or not. I had to dance for her: It was my job.

She put down her pencil and notepad and smiled at me strangely. She lent back in her chair, put her feet up on the arms of the sofa next to her, crossed her ankles, showing me most of her thighs.

She giggled. God – she was so young! And there I was, dancing topless for her in a pair of skimpy pink panties and bare tits in stripper heels... what a fucking whore I had become...

Suddenly she snapped her fingers.

"Come on! Dance!" she demanded. "Put some enthusiasm into it!"

It is true that I had been dancing more lethargically. While that was partly due to exhaustion, it was mostly due to the fact that I was having trouble reconciling what was happening to me.

I wanted to refuse. But I didn't, couldn't.

I wanted my dignity back, but I suppose I was too afraid to stop - or at least too afraid of the consequences of stopping. That would mean breaking the agreement, wouldn't it? And if I broke the agreement... What would happen then? I would have put myself through this humiliation for nothing... And in a way, that would be even more humiliating. Humiliating yourself for material gain is one thing, but humiliating yourself for nothing – that was just foolish, wasn't it?

If I stopped now all of this would be for nothing and I would defiantly not get paid. I had even signed it off! The humiliation would be tenfold. They would laugh about the girl who danced topless for one of the CEO's secretaries - for nothing, who bent over and allowed herself to be ogled from behind by the CEO in his private office - for nothing... I was so ashamed but just wanted to get through

I gritted my teeth and slowly increased the movement in my tired hips and legs.

"Turn around," Nicola said firmly. "I want to see your bum wriggling for me. And come closer."

I obeyed each instruction, hiding my **** as best I could.

"More." she barked, "Move your butt more." shove it out let me see that tight whore ass of yours... come on slut

Again, I obeyed her request.

"Bend over more, and wriggle that bottom for me as fast as you can," she ordered.

I had to endure it – let her have her fun. I was a dancer, the entertainment, the student who needed the cash. I would dance for her, but no more. I was sure of that.

I bent over as far I could without toppling over and wriggled my bottom furiously for her.

"Good," she said. "You're starting to get the idea."

She had me shake my bum for her for what seemed an eternity. She was playing with me. I was her plaything. Her doll. My eyes started to swell with water. I wanted to stop wiggling my bottom for her, but the doubts persisted.

"Stop," she ordered finally.

I stopped gratefully and stood upright, facing away from her.

"That was nice," she congratulated me. "I love to see slutty girls wriggling their ass for me. Now... let's give your feet a rest - you can kneel for me and wriggle your hips from there." She pointed to the carpet at her feet.

I couldn't kneel for her, could I? That would be so... well, submissive, wouldn't it? I was worth more than that, wasn't I?

I knelt at her feet and I looked at her ankles. God - She was so young. I started to cry.

"Well?" she said expectantly.

I swallowed, and began to rock my shoulders for her, making my breasts rise and fall for her entertainment.

"Put your hands on your hips," she commanded.

I obeyed. It was futile questioning her authority. I just wanted it all to be over, to end.

I wriggled my bottom, hands on hips, my breasts protruding out towards her sexily, submissively.

"Smile," she instructed.

No doubt she had seen my tears. I was a mess.

I smiled obediently. I had to **** it - a horrible fake smile – which I held through gritted teeth.

Just then I noticed the flash of a camera phone... she was taking photos of my submission, my humiliation, oh god what if they got out?

"You see - you're enjoying yourself," she said smugly. "You're enjoying kneeling for me and displaying your breasts for me aren't you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"Aren't you?" she insisted.

I nodded, still forcing the smile.

"Don't slow down," she barked.

I sped up my swaying.

"Look," she said harshly, "I want you to say 'Yes miss' when I ask you a question. Is that understood?"

That was going too far surely? I couldn't start calling her 'Miss' could I? She was just an office girl! But if I refused, she would have me on my feet again – and how long would that go on? I couldn't do that anymore: My feet were hurting too much.

"Yes miss," I heard myself say.

It was too late anyway now. I was already kneeling at her feet, wriggling my breasts and hips for her. What difference did calling her 'Miss' make?

"Let's try again," Nicola said, smiling horribly now. "You're enjoying kneeling before me and doing as I tell you aren't you?"

"Yes miss," I replied shyly through the **** smile.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes miss" I repeated more firmly.

"Now I want you to thank me for letting you rest your legs," she barked.

"Thank you for letting me rest my legs, miss" I mumbled, still wriggling for her, still smiling, still crying.

"No," she said sharply. "I want you to thank me for letting you kneel."

It was becoming absurd. She was really twisted.

"Thank you for letting me kneel," I said resignedly.

"Good," she said. "Good girl. Good little slut."

A slut? No-one had ever called me a slut before. I wasn't going to stand for that - no way! I was no slut! That was intolerable.

So why didn't I do something? Why didn't I say something? Why was I still wriggling my breasts for her?

"Don't slow down," she barked before I could get my head together. "In fact - get up again, I'm tired of having your slutty little face so close to my knees."

Oh God. She wanted me back on my heels again. I couldn't. I would refuse. I had to refuse. Why didn't I refuse?

I rose to my feet obediently and resumed dancing for her. She was tormenting me, enjoying treating me like a slut.

"PANTIES down." She barked suddenly.

I was stunned. I dithered, almost stopped dancing altogether.

"PANTIES DOWN. NOW!" she shrieked.