The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bring Your Master To Work Day

Part Three

I can’t believe I work with such a bunch of stupid sluts, Megan thought to herself as she returned to the conference room an hour later. Before, there had been the daring outfits occasionally reduced to nudity as funitivities and Master’s whims demanded. Pretty girls with half-covered bodies beneath sulky pouts. (Well, whenever Master wasn’t looking; if they saw him looking, they smiled.)

Now, there was hardly a girl in the office that wasn’t in some state of partial undress. Patty was the only one fully clothed, still wearing her clingy pantsuit that on a normal day would be scandalously tight, but today made her look practically a nun. And Patty looked like she regretted it to her core, her thighs rubbing together in disconsolate coveredness, hands idly rubbing at her breasts in frustrated lack of access.

As Megan observed from the doorway, she could see how the girls tried to keep themselves in Master’s field of vision, trying to lap up his attention. Ditzy giggles were echoing down the hallway. More than a few of her colleagues were openly playing with themselves. Four women were crowding around Master’s cock, engaged in a spirited discussion about how the company wasted such resources when they didn’t even have a budget for blowjob training.

The room positively reeked of female arousal. And Megan should know—she’d just left a room that smelled almost as badly of it. She’d had no interest in having a woman go down on her. Indeed, the junior HR manager had never even had that one weird drunken experiment cliché in college. She just wasn’t into chicks.

Yet when her lazy, shiftless, incompetent bitch of a boss had meekly asked if she’d like to be eaten out… she hadn’t been able to say no. Maybe it was because she could tell Desiree didn’t want to do it and she wanted to take her down a peg. Maybe it was just to enjoy a little power trip. Maybe, just a little bit, she’d thought how hot it would be for Master if he walked in on them.

He hadn’t, unfortunately. So Megan had just leaned back in her manager’s chair—infinitely more comfortable than her own—and tried to ignore the staticky muzak piping out of the PA system as Desiree ate her out like a woman possessed.

The junior HR rep had to hand it to her; she was intensely dedicated to obeying not just the law of her master’s commands, but the spirit as well. If she ever decided to serve a master (not that she would) (probably) she hoped to have half her gusto and sticktoitiveness. She never let up, never asked for a break or indicated she’d like one. Every time Megan told her how to do it better, she’d adjusted her technique immediately.

In fact, she was so obedient, her erstwhile subordinate had gotten increasingly demanding about it. Then when her boss did nothing to object, she even started working out some of her pent-up frustration. It began with pedestrian prodding. (“Get your tongue deeper, bitch”)

Before long it escalated into things that were just flimsy pretexts for abuse. (“Did I tell you to ease up on my clit, you walking talking jizz mop? Quit trying to think for yourself before you drain what little battery you have left, airhead.”)

Still, that she had taken a short break was no reason for the rest of the office to just act like they had the day off. Master wasn’t their master, after all, and they still had work to do. “Ahem.”

The girls looked over to her, sheepish expressions in abundance. It was like she’d caught them playing minesweeper—only instead of looking for mines, they were looking for cocks. One in particular.

“I believe you all have jobs to do?” she said imperiously. She didn’t usually feel so authoritative, but having her boss on her hands and knees doing her bidding must have jarred something loose. The girls sullenly began to shuffle out of the room, most of them not even bothering to pick up their discarded clothes. She doubted they even knew whose were whose any more. They cooed farewells to Dylan as they departed, and some even kissed him goodbye.

“I do hope you meant blowjobs, or at least handjobs,” Master said, grinning at his departing bounty of T&A.

She couldn’t remember why she was so grateful to him any more, but she recalled he’d done something wonderful for her. Something that had put her in his debt. So whether he was a chauvinist pig or not, that meant she had to smile through comments like that. “Not exactly. That is, unless you meant that as a command, Master…?”

He looked like he was considering it, but shrugged. “Nah. We just missed you, so the gals were nice enough to help me stave off boredom.”

That stung. It was her job to entertain any masters who arrived for the day, and here she’d fucked it up. Still, not like she’d been gone all that long…

Oh shit. A glance at the clock showed she’d been gone for almost two hours. How on earth had she let her cunt-brained idiot of a boss distract her that long? She had half a mind to go back in there and take that gutterslut over her knee and spank some discipline into her.

Instead, smiled placidly at Master Dylan. “Yes, and I’m very sorry about that. I think we’ll have to cancel the 1:00 event to get us back on schedule.”

“That’s fine. What was it, if I may ask?”

“Nothing too exciting—just a little presentation on what services we offer here. Mostly informative, with just a bit of visual aids to give it some appeal. Not Leslie’s finest work, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh. What sort of services do you offer here?” There was almost a knowing gleam in his eyes, for some reason.

Megan opened her mouth, then closed it. Damnit, she should know this. Were they importer/exporters? No, that wasn’t it, they’d stopped doing that months ago. Now, they… um, they…

Well, shit. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the office actually making anything or providing any type of service. Still, she’d sound like an absolute moron to say it aloud, so she sugar-coated the truth. “We’re between major projects at the moment, Master, but we’re always in search of exciting new challenges.” There, vague and optimistic.

“So, how about… wait, do we need to be moving on to the next thing yet?”

“No, we’ve got a few minutes before we need to set up the final event.”

“Groovy. So yeah, then how about you? You like working here?”

Megan shrugged. “It’s all right. Pays the bills.”

“Too demanding?”

“The opposite, actually. I feel like I have to go in search of something to do half the time. I have all this energy and drive to get things done, but… all too often there’s nothing that needs doing.”

“Oh, my little Ditzy Dezzy take on all the heavy lifting, does she?”

Megan sneered. “Hardly. To be perfectly honest, Master,” as she couldn’t imagine being anything but honest with him, “your slave is not much of a worker. She just tries these hare-brained schemes to improve morale and productivity that only ever set us back. What actually needs doing is all on me.”

“Well you seem good at it. Organized, disciplined, serious about your work.”

“Thank you, Master. I’m hoping to get promoted someday, so I want to make sure I give our corporate overlords every reason to say yes.”

Dylan stroked his chin. “Corporate overlords, eh? Tell me about them.”

She tried to think. The company had been sold some time ago, right before Desiree was brought in and given what should’ve been Megan’s job. Who had they sold it to? It had been… um… Mr. Somebody? She was pretty sure it was a mister. “I, um, I actually don’t know.”

“Huh. Well who’s in charge of the office? Never did figure that out. Your ladies are more lookers than talkers.”

They were good-looking, she had to admit, though it still raised her hackles for just a moment. She’d been in the modeling industry herself for a time a few years back, but she’d abandoned it because she was tired of not being taken seriously for her skills, and for her brain. Degrading women by valuing their beauty over their capability was a big pet peeve of hers.

“Oh easy, that’s… um…” Shit, who was it? Mr. Sinclaire had been the manager before Desiree’s cleansweep of the old folks and the men (and Sinclaire had been both). After… was there a manager? “…that’s nobody, really. We have department heads and all, and Desiree certainly throws her weight around more than a bit, but we don’t actually have a strong central leader.”

Which was a shame. Having a single dominant person in her life—in her work life, that is—sounded very appealing of late.

“Yeah, it’s hard for me to imagine my little Desiree calling the shots for anybody. Still, seems like it’s working on everybody. Err, for everybody. Whatever. At this point, why bother being coy, right?”

She had no clue what he meant, so just smiled and agreed. Then she saw the time. “Oh! If you’ll excuse me, Master, I have our final funtivity to set up. Though this one isn’t really fun—it’s for philanthropy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah—we’re having an auction!”

This had been the one event in the day’s itinerary that Megan, and indeed, the rest of the office, had been genuinely looking forward to. No more skimpy outfits, no more standing on display, no more getting groped and sucked on by strange men. Just a simple auction, the benefits going to entirely to charity.

Except, now that Master Dylan had made a few last-minute changes… well, she just hoped the girls would be supportive of the new direction.

As the last few girls took their spots—only Desiree and Sally were gone, the former eating out the latter—Megan took her place at the podium. “All right everyone, thanks for coming to today’s auction.” They applauded politely. “Great, great. Now I wanted to let you know that there’s been some small shift in the items being auctioned, as a special request from today’s guest, Master Dylan. I know we were all looking forward to some of the items promised, but I guarantee that these will be every bit as exciting!”

The smiles vanished. They’d been promised a bid on a weekend getaway at a resort. Spa gift certificates. An espresso machine. A ten-day cruise. The rug was being pulled out from under them—and was about to get even harder to bear.

The muzak was suddenly cranked way up, or maybe just sounded louder in the silence.

“So,” she went on, “the first item up for bid today is… Crystal!” She pointed to where her colleague was sitting in the crowd.

Crystal, their quality control specialist, looked as surprised as the rest. “Wait, what?”

“That’s right everybody—it’s all-inclusive! Come on up, Crys!”

Master wolf-whistled as the buxom redhead made her way up to the front of the room. She was still naked from earlier, but now looked a bit like she regretted it. “So wait, is this a bachelorette auction now?” someone called out. The girls looked confused.

“Yeah, wasn’t this supposed to be for charity?” asked another.

“Precisely,” Megan said. It sounded politer than slave auction, anyway. “Only now, the charity will be for the girl being auctioned. All proceeds go to the bitch on the block!” That had been Master’s term, but it was catchy.

“Um, I’m not a bachelorette,” Crystal said quietly. “I have a boyfriend. For eight months.”

“Well not any more you don’t,” Megan said. Master had been quite specific on that. Slaves didn’t have boyfriends. They had masters, and men their masters told them to fuck.

“Oh. OK then. How long is this for?”

“How long is what for?”

“Like, if someone wins, how long do they get me for?”

Megan shook her head. “No dear, we’re not auctioning off your time. We’re auctioning off you. In perpetuity.”

“Wait, you can’t… I won’t let you…” Crystal frowned at a sudden burst of static from the PA that went on for almost thirty seconds. As it went on, the frown faded. “Well let’s do this then.”

“All righty, anybody want to make an opening bid on the lovely and talented Crystal? C’mon, give ’em a whirl, girl,” Megan prompted.

Crystal spun, showing off her pale round ass. She even had cute little freckles across her chest, nearly the same color as her hard nipples. A Gaelic tattoo decorated her lower back.

No one spoke up. “Come on, hundred dollars for Crystal. Your very own slave girl, one of a kind,” she said. Still nothing. Megan understood it. What would one do with a slave these days? And how awkward would it be owning one of your own coworkers? It was uncomfortable enough having Desiree’s master in just this one day.

“All righty, fifty, do I hear fifty?” She waited. “Twenty?” The girls looked around sheepishly. “OK, ten bucks. Remember, this is for charity.” Nada. “Seriously you guys? Fine, five dollars. That’s not even a cheap lunch. Surely she’s worth that.”

Nobody, not even for a dollar, nor for a quarter. This was starting out horribly. “Please,” Crystal addressed the crowd. “Please, I promise I’m worth it. I’ll be so good, I swear, you’ll never regret it. Please buy me, someone? Anyone?”

Master Dylan finally sighed. “Well, lucky for you, I’m partial to redheads. Tell ya what, I’ll bid… a dime.”

Megan didn’t wait to hear more; she banged her gavel on the podium. “Sold, to the master in the corner for ten cents!”

Crystal heaved a sigh of relief. The sexy redhead rushed over to his side and fell to her knees, nuzzling him lovingly with her cheek. “Thank you, Master! Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! You won’t regret this I promise!”

He put a finger to her lips to silence her, which she immediately sucked into her mouth and started fellating. Master, who had helped himself to Desiree’s loose change jar, handed the girl a shiny dime and she siezed it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Megan took a deep breath, and went on with the auction. “Next up, Tiffani!”

The girls at least had the politeness to applaud this time. Maybe they could sense how stressful it was to be up in front of all of your peers and have them see your worth decided in precisely monetary terms.

Megan understood. Watching Crystal stand there agaonizing that she might be completely worthless had been difficult to witness; seeing that somebody was willing to pay for her had been an immense relief to everyone.

Tiffani came up, her petite runner’s body bouncing lightly on her feet. She tried to smile, putting her best foot forward. Megan tried a more modest opening bid this time at forty bucks, but got no more response than she had last time. Again, she began working her way downwards.

Tiffani definitely put more into it than Crystal, spinning and bouncing, turning her back on the crowd and pulling her little butt cheeks apart and bending over. Megan could see them mumbling about her merits, but still, nobody put in a bid—not until she got down under a dollar, where once more Master came to her rescue.

“Fine, fine—flat-chested as she is, I’m sure she’s at least worth a nickel. Unless anyone thinks she’s worth more?” Tiffani smiled hopefully to her coworkers, but nobody spoke up. Half what Crystal had been worth, but still, something was better than nothing. A nickel meant she had value. With a bang of the gavel, she joined Crystal behind Master, immediately launching into a silent backrub.

Monica the intern was up next; with her youthfulness and her shapelier tits, she went for a full quarter (to Master, again). Then went Vicki, the top-heavy blonde sales department head; she took the podium and gave a little pitch about her refined blowjob technique, how tight her pussy was. She spent the whole downward bidding process fondling her hefty tits and teasing her slit.

Master paid almost a dollar for her. Megan could practically hear Vicik’s pussy flooding at the revelation of being so valuable. Comparatively, anyway.

Patty was sold for a penny, but only after she stripped out of the pantsuit and begged Master to punish her for her selfishness and let her prostitute herself out to men she knew to pay him back. It was a bit much—surely Patty would make at least a penny for her first trick—but Master was a soft-hearted man, it seemed, and finally agreed to buy her.

One by one, the junior HR rep went down the list—which was just a print-out of the company registry she’d reorganized by birthdate, just so it wouldn’t be in predictable alphabetical order.

Desiree was left out, since she already belonged to someone. This was a good thing, because Master got a little too generous with some of the hotter girls, tossing out quarter after quarter, until the last few girls had to settle for pennies apiece like Patty. It was all he had left, and everyone was enjoying watching him buy their coworkers so much that they didn’t want to disrupt the fun by bidding on them himself.

Megan put her time management skills to use, pacing things just so that Master had a moment to enjoy each fresh acquisition, letting the girls celebrate being reunited with their former coworkers, now co-slaves. The final auction ended at 4:40, just twenty minutes to closing time.

(By then Master had run out of even pennies; Grace and Gretchen, who were supposed to be the highlight of the auction as a twinnish pair, had been sold for a piece of Master’s pocket lint, which they had to split between them. Still, everyone agreed it was better than nothing.)

“Thank you everyone, thank you for your generosity in giving so much of yourselves to this worthy cause,” Megan said. “I believe that concludes the day’s funtivities.”

“Wait, what about Megan?” said someone. A chorus of voices echoed the same concern.

Megan shook her head. “I’m not on the list.” As indignant outcries arose, she called out, “Master said to leave myself off.” That shut them up promptly. Not that she felt like she needed to justify herself to these bitches, these pieces of Master’s property. She was partially jealous that they’d get to serve him night and day, sure, but they were slaves and she was free. That meant she was their superior. That meant they shouldn’t question her.

Master shook his empty money jar. “Sorry, folks. Even if I had any change left, I couldn’t afford a tasty little bitch like that.”

Then Desiree returned from her office along with a very satisfied-looking Deborah. The HR manager was on her knees, her mouth hanging open slackly. After spending five hours eating pussy on her knees, Megan could well imagine she was too weak to stand, her jaw too tired to close.

She’d been given a simple order, and she had—as always—fucked things up.

“Cuh ah eah yah ouh?” Desiree said as she stopped in front of Two.

“God damned stupid fuckmeat bitchwich twat-licking cumbucket!” Megan said. The eyes of every other girl in the office went wide at her invective, but Megan didn’t care. These bitches were all of them less than her. “Are you not done offering your mouth to everyone yet? Can you not follow one simple fucking instruction? It’s almost quitting time! How many more do you have to go?”

Desiree tried to state a number several times, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate and Megan tired of trying to make it out. “OK, raise your hands if Desiree hasn’t yet offered to eat you out, ladies”

She did a count. Fourteen. Fourteen more girls left unsatisfied by her worthless boss.

“Fine. You know what? I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t want to be at work until 8:00 so Desiree can finish her workload. So, those of you with your hands up? Keep them up, and pair off with someone else whose hand is up. Then get together and eat one another’s pussies.”

There was a moment of hesitation, a strange little wrinkle in time where it seemed a little strange for a colleague to order a mass lesbian orgy. Then the moment passed, and reality took hold. Megan watched them meekly pair off, obviously impressed by the authority of this woman. This free woman, with no master who owned and controlled her.

Megan had Crystal join the supervision—she was quality control manager, after all—and together, they made sure each slave was eagerly and efficiently getting their partner off. Some were less experienced, so they put them into a sixy-nine so they could synergize their efforts and not waste time.

Desiree watched glumly, obviously ashamed of her inadequacy and dimly grateful for the unsolicited aid. The girls who’d already had their shot at her either clung to Master, taking turns sucking him off or giving him something fun to do with his mouth and hands, or just watched and played with themselves. Megan made mental notes of who was serving in what capacity, and how effectively.

By the stroke of five, with the help of her fellow slaves, Desiree’s task was done. Or done enough—it was definitely not an exemplary day for the HR manager. Megan took her boss over her knee and spanked her unrestrainedly as the last few orgasms trickled out of their colleagues. Her was beet red by then; her nominal subordinate doubted she’d be able to sit on it for a day or two.

Just as well. As far as Megan was concerned, Desiree belonged on her knees.

“Good work today, you cock-starved bimbos,” Master announced. “Go ahead and get dressed while I go over a few things.” The girls thanked him—for no real reason, but he’d given them a command so it seemed like the thing to say—and began searching for discarded clothing. Several of them couldn’t find their clothes, and braced to depart in just their panties, or nothing at all.

(Patty flatly refused to put her pantsuit back on.)

“Now I want to come clean with you all, since you’ve been so hospitable to me today. I’ve owned Desiree for more than a year now, and she was my first of many. Today, I look forward to expanding my collection of fuck toys to the lot of you. I’m going to do awesome things to each of you.”

They preened, applauded. With these simple words, they felt more appreciated than Desiree had ever made them feel. “Early this year, I bought this company with the hopes of expanding my collection of fuck toys. So when I sent my little slut Desiree here to start brainwashing you gals, preparing you to submit, I never thought it would work out this great. I have to say, I’ve really outdone myself with you all.”

Megan’s eyes bulged as she listened. He was the one who’d bought the company? And… brainwashing? No wonder these weak stupid whores all submitted to him so easily! Thank goodness she’d resisted it herself, or who knows what might have come of her! Still, to think she now worked for this man, her coworkers’ master… this could get messy indeed.

“So now, I not only own your company, but I own you. Desiree will distribute a memo tomorrow of the new policies and expectations, but for now, I just want to start with these inspirational words.

“You little sluts belong to me now. Which means everything you used to own, I own. If you used to be in a relationship, you’ll break it off tonight. If you were married, file for divorce. Your hubbies can have the kids, unless you got a daughter old enough and hot enough to be any good to me.”

Megan glanced at Casie; her daughter was about to finish high school, and was quite a looker. Casie was already grinning at the prospect of enslaving her daughter for Master. Megan almost interrupted to compliment him on the effectiveness of his brainwashing program, but he was the CEO, after all. Some things, one just didn’t do.

“So for starters, go ahead and return my charitable contributions. Come on, you heard me, in the jar.” He held it out; one by one, the girls returned the money they’d been bought for. It made sense—slaves didn’t own property, after all—but felt a little deceptive. Then again, so did brainwashing them into being his sex slaves, so Megan conceded it might not be worth getting judgmental over.

“What about salaries? Will we still earn that?” Vicki asked. “For you, I mean. Obviously not for ourselves.”

“Good question. Since I own the company, doesn’t really make sense to pay you just to take it back and let Uncle Sam take a bite out of what’s mine in the interim. Especially since I still have an employee to pay, don’t I?”

Dylan turned to look at Megan; she resisted the urge to fall to her knees and ask how she could serve him. Further proof she wasn’t some weak-willed hussy like the rest of them. He pulled her into his lap as he addressed her. “You’re probably wondering why I didn’t take you too. Right?”

“No, actually. I’m an independent woman, and I’m not for sale.”

He laughed, the indulgent way one might laugh at a little kid who’d said something stupid. “Sure you are, Megan. Now, as the CEO, it’s time to do a little restructuring.”

“Am I being fired?” She frowned. It was difficult to compete with free labor, certainly.

“What? No, far from it. In fact, I’m promoting you. You’re getting Desiree’s old job. More or less.”

Desiree smiled and breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. Small wonder, thought Megan, as she’d never been any good at the job to begin with. “There are going to be some changes in your responsibilities though. I’ll still need you to recruit for me, looking for the same kind of hot, easy babes you’re already working with. Then I’ll need to make sure the girls are being properly trained to serve me, as well as a lot of the little day to day stuff. Making sure they’re fed, clothed when and how I want them, that kind of stuff. Are you up for that?”

It sounded like an awful lot of responsibility and authority, actually.

Megan had dreamed of this moment for years!

“Absolutely, Master. I can’t wait to get started—I already have lots of ideas for how to get your sluts working much more efficiently, and with greater motivation. Although…” She took a deep breath to steady herself, as she was both nervous and presently being fingered by her new boss. “There is the issue of my new salary.”

Normally she wouldn’t discuss this in front of the others, but now, they were just property. Their opinions mattered just as much to her as the lampshade’s.

“I’m glad you asked. I’m prepared to offer you this,” he said, pulling out the waistline of her panties to the point that they were nearly ripped off. Master Dylan deposited the jar of change in them.

“I’m sorry? Is this… hourly?”

“Annually.”

Megan thought back on it; there probably wasn’t ten bucks in the entire jar, far less than her current salary. She was pretty sure, at least. The details weren’t coming to her. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can…”

“You didn’t hear me out—there’s also a new benefits package. Namely, that you also get to serve me along with the rest of these bitches. You’ll be my little sex slave too, except you get to do it by choice. You’ll get all the cock I feel like giving you. How’s that sound?”

Wait, serve… by choice? Wasn’t being someone’s slave definitionally a matter of choicelessness? But then… what did it matter. Choice or no choice, it was a chance to serve and please Master. Negotiation had never been her strong suit.

“I accept!”

Four Months Later

Megan practically skipped into work, like she did every morning nowadays. She just loved her job! It was so full of unexpected surprises, intriguing challenges, and rewarding sluttery. Hardly a day went by when there wasn’t some curve ball thrown her way that she had to correct for, to make sure everything was running precisely how Master liked things.

Why, just yesterday Master had told her he was canceling casual Fridays—like she’d told him he would when he’d instituted the policy. Most days, the girls dressed practically, wearing see-through bras and panties, skimpy miniskirts and thongs and tops that barely concealed their tits. But then a few weeks back Master had said that sometimes he liked the office to feel like an office, and to have the girls programmed to dress and behave like office workers so he could come in and “fuck a bunch of boring business bitches,” as he put it.

Of course, that had been a whole huge batch of new programming to do, re-training the girls on what normal office girls acted like, then buying them suitable attire. Basically, bringing them back to where they’d been before the big Bring Your Master To Work Day had redefined things—all so when Master got bored of it, she could undo it.

Which, as the sharp professional she was, she was ready for.

Today was Diversity Day, something the company had done for years to appreciate the broad variety of women present in the workplace. More recently, Megan had adapted it to their new mission statement (very simple, easy to remember: “Always Please Master”). So they’d be practicing their French kissing, getting Brazilians, doing some lesbian and bisexual woman appreciation initiatives, receiving lessons from the Kama Sutra from Nandi, and staging an exhibition hall of fetishes from around the world.

“Diversity wasn’t a burden to be tolerated,” she’d reminded them in yesterday’s morning brainwashing video. “It is a source of strength.”

Megan was excited. The stupid cock-hungry sluts who toiled for Master alongside her were, for all their inferiority to her, hard workers and enthusiastically obedient to their new HR manager. Sure, Master only fucked Megan himself once a week or so, but she had his bitches to compensate.

Besides, whenever he had a man he wanted taken care of, to support his other dealings, Megan would often handle the cock herself. Each prick inside her was an opportunity to grow and develop.

She gave a sharp tug on Desiree’s leash, and the junior HR rep stumbled forward, murmuring hasty apologies for slowing Megan down. Not that she had been, but Megan still enjoyed reminding her of the reversal in their roles—she’d even prepared special training messages to make Desiree serve her almost as lovingly as she did Master. Almost.

She watched Desiree scurry about the office doing all the set-up that needed doing, smacking her ass with her riding crop whenever she moved too slowly, or seemed too complacent. Which hardly ever happened, but she knew Desiree loved the attention too much to withhold it from her. When all was done and the other girls were walking in (a few crawling in; Master did like his bitches in bitch position, after all), she told Desiree she was a good girl and had served adequately.

As always, Desiree came on the spot.

To think, this grand adventure of productivity and workplace satisfaction had all begun with such a foolish-sounding holiday. She remembered laughing at Desiree’s proposal at first, thinking what a waste of time and resources it was. Thinking she was a complete slut, a whore with no self-respect. Megan had been right of course, yet that day had been the silver bullet that had gotten the whole company energized for their new direction.

Now, every day was Bring Your Master To Work Day.