Wet Workdays - Sex Stories

Wet Workdays

Ms. Marietta Miller was a slave driver in the old sense. She tolerated no slacking, didn’t allow breaks and made you redo your work if she found just the tiniest mistake. And all this even though she wasn’t old -- in fact, she was the second youngest in the office, which didn’t make things easier. With her twenty-five years -- ten less that my thirty-five, for example -- she often rubbed us the wrong way, but there was nothing we could do about it. Mr. McCormack was hardly ever in the office, and she, for all purposes, ruled the company with an iron fist, prancing around in her stiletto heels and mini dress and barking orders at everyone like they were her personal slaves, while we dutifully typed and took on phone calls. She was young, she was ruthless, and if word of mouth was true, she spread her pretty, long legs for McCormack -- which would explain a lot. The week had been long and arduous. Marietta had put it in her head that the rest of the office staff had to follow dress rules -- rules that, obviously, didn’t apply to her. So on Monday, we had found a long text in our inbox that told us that we weren’t allowed trousers or short skirts starting Tuesday, that our blouses had to be white and needed to ‘close up enough not to expose our cleavage lewdly’ and that violations of the code would prompt disciplinary measures. While Erica and I had joked about what kind of ‘discipline’ Marietta had in mind, we nonetheless tried to follow the orders and not draw here ire to us. ...

... Well, we tried, or more specifically, I did. But it was the middle of summer and our air con only managed to cool the office down so much, so putting on a long skirt was out of question. And I really didn’t have that many medium-length ones, nor many white blouses, so I settled for a thin, red summer dress that ended a little above the knee before I headed to work on Friday. I should have thought twice. “Well, well,” Marietta’s drawl greeted me as soon as I had set a foot inside the office, “what do we have here?” She stepped in my way and looked me up and down with a derisive sneer. “What about ‘long skirt’ and ‘white blouse’ is so hard for you to understand, Miss Green?” I hated her sneer, and I would have loved to slap it from her arrogant young face. “Nothing, but I don’t have that many long skirts. Besides, it’s boiling hot in here, if you haven’t noticed. Now leave me alone and let me do my work!” I tried to brush past her, but she held her spot, and I bumped into her with a cursed, “Ohmph!” “Not so fast!” she snapped and gripped my wrist painfully hard. “I didn’t write that email for fun, and if you all think I’m making fun, I should give you an example that makes you think twice.” Someone behind her coughed, and it sounded remarkably like, “Bitch!” She ignored it, though. Her blazing eyes were fixed on me. I gulped. “There will be no breaks for you today. If you want to leave the room, you’ll ask me to do so. You’ll also stay until I allow you to go home.” “You can’t ...