Missy sat staring at her computer screen, careful that no one was looking over her shoulder. It was the second email that she had received that day, and she was getting worried. Of course, everyone had been warned about opening strange emails in the office, but no one really listened to those rules, did they?
MAPhillips
Subject: Compliance
Ms. Phillips:
You've been a naughty girl in the office, haven't you? What were you thinking,
bringing yourself off in the ladies'? Anyway, you've been caught, as evidenced in
the attached photograph. Now, I could simply ignore the fact that you've been a
little slut, but where would the fun be in that?
As penance for your little show, and to prevent me from e-mailing this photo to every-one in the office, including your supervisor, you need to perform five tasks. Of course,
I'll need photographic proof of your having completed said tasks. You can simply
send them back to me at this address.
You'll receive your first task before the end of the day.
Sincerely,
Your Tormentor.
Missy carefully opened the attachment and a full frame image of her masturbating in a stall filled her computer screen. She quickly closed the attachment, but not before she was treated to the depraved vision that was now burned into her retinas. It wasn't like she did it every day or anything, but she had had such a fantastic time the night before. Surely, it wasn't a crime to relive a few of those moments, even if it was in the restroom at work.
The infernal image showed her with her hose and panties around her ankles, legs spread, and her right hand buried in her abundant bush. Her skirt was pushed up around her tummy and her left hand had snaked under it and was obviously fondling her breast. The look on her face said it all; mouth open, tongue lolling out and eyes shut tight. The photo had caught her right on the brink of orgasm. "Great!" She whispered to herself in a mock scream.
It was too late for regrets, although she cursed herself for having been so foolish. In the back of her mind, she knew that it was possible for someone to walk in during her frolicking, but she hadn't heard anyone. And how could anyone have snapped a picture of her without her noticing.
Your eyes were closed, bozo
, she recalled, the image replaying in her mind for the balance of the day.
Fran had been fantastic the night before. Missy thought back on the exchange in her kitchen when Fran had lifted her onto the island and snipped the crotch of her panties with her kitchen shears, that were conveniently located behind her. She had objected of course, but her lust for her lover overruled any physical action to prevent the act. Even sitting at her desk her pussy throbbed with the memory of the fabric slowly flying free of her sex.
Fran had then flipped her legs back, and giving her a stern look, demanding that she hold them that way. What ensued was some of the best oral she'd ever received. Perhaps it was the lead up, the location, splayed out on her island where she normally prepared her meals. No one had ever cut off her clothing before and even if it was a pair of rather expensive Neiman Marcus panties, the image drove her wild. If Missy hadn't just been caught in the act, she might have been headed for the ladies' to quell the ache between her thighs.
Thinking that she had escaped whatever 'torment' her self-professed tormentor had in store for her, Missy began packing her things for the day. She was just rising from her chair when her computer rang out with an incoming email. Flustered, Missy sat back down in the chair and opened it.
MAPhillips
Subject: Task #1
Ms. Phillips,
Here is your first task. Attack it with the same enthusiasm you obviously had for
achieving orgasm that day, and you will find it so much easier to complete.
You will arrive at the office tomorrow, sans underwear. This means: no panties
and no bra. You will wear the same skirt you wore on the day you were caught.
However embarrassing that might prove will depend on how careful you are bending
over.
Photos will be expected, of course.
Sincerely,
Your Tormentor
As Missy watched the few employees that remained file out of the office, she closed the email and disappointedly shut off her computer.
"Hey, Phillips, you planning on spending the night?" Rod Taylor kidded. "We're heading down to the pub. Join us." Rod knew damned well that Missy played for the other team, but he never ceased in his efforts, trying to convert her. "First pint's on me."
"Thanks for the offer, Rod. I've got some things to attend to at home." Deflecting, as she shrugged on her coat. When she looked back, Rod had disappeared, being sufficiently sloughed off for the umpteenth time.
"What's got under your skin?" Fran asked, as she tossed another peeled potato into the pot. They worked at the island, and Missy couldn't help but think back on their evening of two nights past.
"Nothing, really. Work's bearing down a bit." Missy lied, not willing to share what was actually going on.
"Is it that Taylor chap? He's a right slime ball. Did you ever think about hitting him for harassment?" Fran growled. Missy was confident that Fran would disassemble the man should they ever meet. The frightening part was that she was perfectly capable of taking down nearly any man. A second-degree black belt, Fran made no secret of her physical attributes. It had proven embarrassing on more than a few occasions. "Of course, I could always—"
"Fran. Please. He's a colleague, and you know he's just mucking about." Missy insisted. She knew that the man was harmless, but she had made the mistake of telling Fran about an incident where Rod was more than persistent on her joining him after work. "Besides. You know I'm perfectly mad for you."
Fran reached over and squeezed Missy into a tight embrace, tracing her tongue up her neck until their lips met. "Why don't we forget about tea?" Fran suggested, allowing her hand to roam south until it nestled between Missy thighs.
