Exposed at the Office - Sex Stories

Exposed at the Office

... late?

"Then kneel. Beg. Convince me to keep it a secret," she says.

I stare at her, conscious of my eyes goggling and my mouth falling open again. Surely she can't be serious? But as I meet her cold, hard gaze, it is abundantly clear that she is entirely, totally serious. And what choice do I have? I drop to my knees on the bathroom floor.

"Please Sophie, please don't share that photograph. I'm new here, I really want to make a good impression. Mr Daniels, he told me I needed to fit in more, so I bought a whole new outfit, it cost me so much Sophie, I really wanted to impress him, to impress everyone, especially today with the client meeting...I bought the same perfume as you Sophie, it smelt so good, but then the bus broke down, and I didn't want to be late, and I had to walk, but my heels slowed me down and then I had to take them off and I didn't want to ruin my stockings so I took them off too and my feet hurt so much and they were so dirty so I tried to wash them and my blouse was all sweaty and I was trying to dry it and then you came in and please please please Sophie I'm having such a bad day please have mercy on me please don't share that picture..." Even as the words pour out of me, I know I've lost it. She already thinks I'm amusing, but now she thinks I'm pathetic too...and as I look up from my kneeling position at her towering over me, I see her snapping two, three more pictures of me kneeling on a toilet floor, begging her for mercy. What have I ...

... become?

Somehow, I manage to wrestle control of my vocal chords back, and stop speaking. She regards me, kneeling at her feet, with a look that is pure contempt. The silence stretches out for what seems like an age. But finally, she speaks.

"I will keep these photos on my phone, and I won't send them to anyone," she says. I breathe a sigh of relief, but she's not finished. "But there are two conditions. Firstly, you answer to me. If I need something doing, you will prioritise that, and do it well. If I'm not satisfied, your photos will be round the office before you can blink. Understand?" I nod, blankly. Anything to save the humiliation of those pictures being shared. She pauses, a cold smile playing on her lips. "Second condition: I want your panties." I freeze, mid-nod. What did she just say? As if she'd read my mind, she repeats herself, giving the distinct impression that this is not something that she is accustomed to doing. "You heard me. Your panties. You have until the count of five or the WhatsApp group gets the pictures. One. Two. Three."

She is counting fast, her thumb poised over her smartphone screen. I don't have time to think, so I scramble up, my hands reaching under my skirt, my thumbs hooking into the waistband of my panties and pulling them down around my knees, my ankles...

"Four."

I tug them off my left foot, then my right, and hold them out, a scrap of black cloth dangling from my trembling hand.

"Five." She pauses, as if considering her ...