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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 do that!” I hissed at her, astounded at her audacity.
She grinned wide and held up a sheet of paper; she had apparently expected such a thing. There, in McCormack’s immaculate hand, I could read that she very much could do that.
‘As I am barely in the office anymore, I hereby grant Marietta Miller full disciplinary and financial authority, to act in my stead in all questions regarding the handling of employees and steering of the company.’ It went on a bit further into legal mumbo-jumbo, but the bad thing was that it was dated, signed and stamped by the law department. I handed it back to her with a slightly shaking hand.
“No breaks, and ask before you take step outside, clear?” She apparently got off on getting one over me.
“Yes, Marietta.” I hung my head.
“I think, given the circumstances, you should address me as Ms. Miller, don’t you think?”
We had always been using given names here in the office. I swallowed hard. “Yes, Ms. Miller.”
The first two hours, I steamed. The next two I was filled with cold rage. But then it was time for lunch break. My stomach felt empty and my co-workers sent me pitying looks before they hurried outside. The worst thing, though, was that my bladder made itself felt. I tried to press my thighs together and work on, but that only worked for half an hour, then the need to pee grew urgent.
I swallowed my pride and walked on wooden legs to Marietta’s desk that throned at the end of the office, twice as wide as everyone else’s. I stood for a good minute, but she acted as if she didn’t notice me, even after I had cleared my throat.
She was enjoying this far too much. “Ms. Miller?” I finally asked.
“Yes, Allie?”
“May I step outside for five minutes?” I felt like I was a schoolgirl again, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage.
“Why would you need to do that?” The nasty grin on her lips made it clear that she was all too aware of my motives, but she played dumb.
“I need to pee,” I told her bluntly.
She waited, baiting me, looking at me for a good minute while the rage inside me grew. “No, you may not,” she finally declared.
I thought I had misheard. “What?”
Her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. “I said that, no, you may not go outside to pee.”
“But…”
“Now stop wasting my time. You can pee after work.” She turned back to her computer screen and ignored me.
I felt embarrassed like hell. Who did the hussy think she was? But I remembered the text of McCormack’s letter. If I let things come to a head, she could even fire me, and that was not something I really could afford. I slunk back to my desk, my cheeks flaming red, and swore to pay her back some day.
By the time lunch break was over, I was bopping one knee up and down. And hour later, the pressure got almost unbearable, and I had to flex my knees out only to clench them back together to keep from peeing. “Mar… Ms. Miller! Please!” I shouted through the office, desperation shaking my voice.
“Yes, Allie?” She looked at me with an amused grin. My co-workers, the bitches, just hid behind their computer screens, no doubt eager to see how the drama played out. Sometimes I hated working in a female-only office.
“I. Need.” I ground out between clenched teeth. “To. Pee! Now!” I was breathing hard and sweat was forming on my forehead. The pained moan when a cramp shot through my stomach was probably audible for everyone. I wanted to sink into the ground.
Marietta bent down and opened a drawer from her desk. I couldn’t see what she had pulled out, but she slowly stood up and walked across the room towards my desk. A knot formed in my stomach. Was she going to fire me? A few feet away, she stopped, grinning widely, and showed me what she had been holding behind her back.
With a gleeful grin, she put a wide glass bowl down on the floor. My eyes widened and my mind raced. She didn’t…?
“You can choose. Either you walk outside, but then you shouldn’t bother coming back. Or you do it here, while everyone watches you, as part of your punishment. Your choice!”
Another cramp shot through my tummy and I gasped. She couldn’t expect that of me? My co-workers were lurking from behind their screens, cheeks flushed with excitement. I couldn’t lose my job. I had just saved enough to afford me a nice holiday abroad, the first time in five years, and I wasn’t going to let Marietta ruin this!
My knees shook, and I had to move slowly. I tiptoed around the desk, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. But I’d not run and hide! Marietta’s eyes widened when I approached the bowl -- obviously, her intention had been to kick me. Perhaps I had spoken my mind one time too often. But she had set the stage, and there was no going back for any of us. We both knew it.
I had never before in my life felt so lewd and dirty as when I pushed my panties down in the middle of our office, with a dozen eyes watching. I didn’t have time to waste. I stepped out of them and threw them under my desk with one foot, then pulled up my dress and knelt down over the bowl.
Gasps rung in the air -- I couldn’t say if from the audacity of the display alone or if my clean-shaven pussy with its lightning tattoo, a sin from the past, had anything to do with it. I took a bit of aim, but then I had to close my eyes to block out the stares. As much as I needed to go, as painful the pressure on my bladder already was, it was hard to relax enough to pee into the bowl.
A soft hissing sound suddenly filled the air, and the warm, wet feeling that came with peeing arrived with a delay. I had, in a way, alway enjoyed the act of peeing, but now, with the added, embarrassing intensity, it felt deeply sexual. My skin tingled with shame, but my pee flowed and flowed, splashing noisily into the bowl. I wanted to die on the spot, but -- the realization sent goosebumps up my back and made me dizzy -- I also wanted to reach between my legs and stroke my pussy, and for a fraction of a second, my hand twitched. What was happening to me?
It didn’t seem to stop. The hissing kept going on and on. For a wicked moment, I wondered if the bowl would overflow and spill my pee on the floor. My cheeks burned like mad, and Marietta watched me with a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin.
Then, finally, the last few spurts shot into the bowl, and the silence in the office was all-encompassing. I almost forgot to breathe. Then I realized my oversight.
“Uhm,” I stammered, face burning, my voice barely above a whisper, “could I… have a tissue?”
My pleading look didn’t faze Marietta in the slightest. “No, you may not!”
“But…”
“Use your fingers.”
“And how should I…” My voice trailed off when she parted her lips and wiggled her tongue, leaving no doubt about her suggestion.
“God, this is sick!” someone whispered, but the excited glee in her voice was evident.
I could either stand up and have the drops clinging to my pussy run down my legs and stain my skirt. Or I could… It was crazy to consider the thought. But not that much crazier than what was already happening.
The bitch Marietta was trying her best to get me to resign, and I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. My breath shuddered, but I stared back hard at her and reached out with one hand, ran my fingers through my folds and lifted them to my mouth, trying to keep them from shaking too much.
They say pee is hygienic, some even believe it’s healthy. It was strange that I could think of that right now, but I did, and my tongue sneaked out and licked up the salty drops. A strange, lightweight, spinning feeling gripped me.
“Fuck, she’s doing it! She’s really doing it!” I think it was Evie, the youngest one, but I couldn’t be sure.
Something happened between Marietta and me; some kind of secret exchange that we both didn’t fully grasp took place in the blink of an eye.
“Keep that under your desk,” she told me, but her voice was much softer than before, “and bring it back clean before you go home.”
I nodded with blushed cheeks, slipped back into my panties and moved the bowl brimming with my pee under the desk and to the side, outside of reach of my legs.
Marietta turned around and strode to her own desk, and I went back behind mine, afraid to look at my colleagues.
*
I had to stay late -- late enough so that my colleagues were all gone -- and only Marietta and I were left. The barely concealed grins when my co-workers gone home had been mortifying, though Evie’s ‘Bye’ was accompanied by a strange wink.
Finally, Marietta nodded at me. Like a spy in those cheap movies, I sneaked down the corridor and past the other offices with a thumping heart, and I had to lean my back against the door to keep my knees from giving out. I had managed it unseen. I dumped the pee into a toilet, flushed, then washed the bowl with hot water for a good minute before drying it with paper towels.
“Here,” I said to Marietta and held out the bowl to her once I was back at the office, unsure what to do with it.
Instead of telling me where to put it, she went around the desk and took it from my hand. With a wicked grin, she put it down on the floor in front of me, then lifted up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties! I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her shaven pubes with just a strip of dark hair above it and the rosy inner lips that peeked outside.
Just like I had done hours before, she squatted down over the bowl and, with another grin, let go. The moment the hissing, splashing sound filled the office, I shuddered. My heartbeat sped up once again, and I quickly looked away.
“Oh, that’s good!” she whispered.
It took her ages to finish, but finally, the last, short bursts splashed into the bowl, and I expected the rustling of her clothes.
Instead, I heard her say, “You know what to do.”
I bit my lip. A warm, fluttery feeling came alive between my thighs. The blood rushed in my ears when I crouched down and our gazes locked once more.
“Yes, Ms. Miller.”
I extended a trembling hand and ran my fingers through her soft, hot, moist folds. A tiny whimper escaped my throat, then I lifted my fingers to my mouth and she watched me lick her stinky, yucky, salty, delicious pee into my mouth.
“Good girl,” she whispered, and my knees buckled. I barely managed to keep upright. “Now clean it again and put it under your desk. You’ll be needing it.”
She fetched her jacket from her chair and slipped it on, then turned to leave. I bent down to pick up the bowl, but just when she was about to pass me on her way out, she stopped and cupped my chin. She pulled me upright and leaned so close that her lips almost brushed my ear. Goosebumps raced up and down my spine.
“Just so you know,” she whispered sweetly while holding my chin in a vice-like grip, “if you’re a bad girl again, I’ll pee into a glass and make you drink it.”
I almost fainted. Trepidation washed all over me, and I stayed rooted to the spot.
She was long gone when I tip-toed my way to the loo again. This was absolutely crazy!
*
Come Monday morning, I stood in front of my wardrobe for what felt like hours, sifting through the freshly washed and ironed medium length skirts.
Then a tremble raced through my body, and my hand determinedly gripped the flimsy orange, low-cut, figure-hugging minidress. I could already picture Ms. Miller’s -- Marietta’s -- disapproving stare. She’d be furious! I slipped back out of the panties and bra I had already put on. Really furious! I sighed dreamily when the dress slipped down my body.
I couldn’t help it. I was a bad girl.
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 do that!” I hissed at her, astounded at her audacity.
She grinned wide and held up a sheet of paper; she had apparently expected such a thing. There, in McCormack’s immaculate hand, I could read that she very much could do that.
‘As I am barely in the office anymore, I hereby grant Marietta Miller full disciplinary and financial authority, to act in my stead in all questions regarding the handling of employees and steering of the company.’ It went on a bit further into legal mumbo-jumbo, but the bad thing was that it was dated, signed and stamped by the law department. I handed it back to her with a slightly shaking hand.
“No breaks, and ask before you take step outside, clear?” She apparently got off on getting one over me.
“Yes, Marietta.” I hung my head.
“I think, given the circumstances, you should address me as Ms. Miller, don’t you think?”
We had always been using given names here in the office. I swallowed hard. “Yes, Ms. Miller.”
The first two hours, I steamed. The next two I was filled with cold rage. But then it was time for lunch break. My stomach felt empty and my co-workers sent me pitying looks before they hurried outside. The worst thing, though, was that my bladder made itself felt. I tried to press my thighs together and work on, but that only worked for half an hour, then the need to pee grew urgent.
I swallowed my pride and walked on wooden legs to Marietta’s desk that throned at the end of the office, twice as wide as everyone else’s. I stood for a good minute, but she acted as if she didn’t notice me, even after I had cleared my throat.
She was enjoying this far too much. “Ms. Miller?” I finally asked.
“Yes, Allie?”
“May I step outside for five minutes?” I felt like I was a schoolgirl again, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage.
“Why would you need to do that?” The nasty grin on her lips made it clear that she was all too aware of my motives, but she played dumb.
“I need to pee,” I told her bluntly.
She waited, baiting me, looking at me for a good minute while the rage inside me grew. “No, you may not,” she finally declared.
I thought I had misheard. “What?”
Her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. “I said that, no, you may not go outside to pee.”
“But…”
“Now stop wasting my time. You can pee after work.” She turned back to her computer screen and ignored me.
I felt embarrassed like hell. Who did the hussy think she was? But I remembered the text of McCormack’s letter. If I let things come to a head, she could even fire me, and that was not something I really could afford. I slunk back to my desk, my cheeks flaming red, and swore to pay her back some day.
By the time lunch break was over, I was bopping one knee up and down. And hour later, the pressure got almost unbearable, and I had to flex my knees out only to clench them back together to keep from peeing. “Mar… Ms. Miller! Please!” I shouted through the office, desperation shaking my voice.
“Yes, Allie?” She looked at me with an amused grin. My co-workers, the bitches, just hid behind their computer screens, no doubt eager to see how the drama played out. Sometimes I hated working in a female-only office.
“I. Need.” I ground out between clenched teeth. “To. Pee! Now!” I was breathing hard and sweat was forming on my forehead. The pained moan when a cramp shot through my stomach was probably audible for everyone. I wanted to sink into the ground.
Marietta bent down and opened a drawer from her desk. I couldn’t see what she had pulled out, but she slowly stood up and walked across the room towards my desk. A knot formed in my stomach. Was she going to fire me? A few feet away, she stopped, grinning widely, and showed me what she had been holding behind her back.
With a gleeful grin, she put a wide glass bowl down on the floor. My eyes widened and my mind raced. She didn’t…?
“You can choose. Either you walk outside, but then you shouldn’t bother coming back. Or you do it here, while everyone watches you, as part of your punishment. Your choice!”
Another cramp shot through my tummy and I gasped. She couldn’t expect that of me? My co-workers were lurking from behind their screens, cheeks flushed with excitement. I couldn’t lose my job. I had just saved enough to afford me a nice holiday abroad, the first time in five years, and I wasn’t going to let Marietta ruin this!
My knees shook, and I had to move slowly. I tiptoed around the desk, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. But I’d not run and hide! Marietta’s eyes widened when I approached the bowl -- obviously, her intention had been to kick me. Perhaps I had spoken my mind one time too often. But she had set the stage, and there was no going back for any of us. We both knew it.
I had never before in my life felt so lewd and dirty as when I pushed my panties down in the middle of our office, with a dozen eyes watching. I didn’t have time to waste. I stepped out of them and threw them under my desk with one foot, then pulled up my dress and knelt down over the bowl.
Gasps rung in the air -- I couldn’t say if from the audacity of the display alone or if my clean-shaven pussy with its lightning tattoo, a sin from the past, had anything to do with it. I took a bit of aim, but then I had to close my eyes to block out the stares. As much as I needed to go, as painful the pressure on my bladder already was, it was hard to relax enough to pee into the bowl.
A soft hissing sound suddenly filled the air, and the warm, wet feeling that came with peeing arrived with a delay. I had, in a way, alway enjoyed the act of peeing, but now, with the added, embarrassing intensity, it felt deeply sexual. My skin tingled with shame, but my pee flowed and flowed, splashing noisily into the bowl. I wanted to die on the spot, but -- the realization sent goosebumps up my back and made me dizzy -- I also wanted to reach between my legs and stroke my pussy, and for a fraction of a second, my hand twitched. What was happening to me?
It didn’t seem to stop. The hissing kept going on and on. For a wicked moment, I wondered if the bowl would overflow and spill my pee on the floor. My cheeks burned like mad, and Marietta watched me with a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin.
Then, finally, the last few spurts shot into the bowl, and the silence in the office was all-encompassing. I almost forgot to breathe. Then I realized my oversight.
“Uhm,” I stammered, face burning, my voice barely above a whisper, “could I… have a tissue?”
My pleading look didn’t faze Marietta in the slightest. “No, you may not!”
“But…”
“Use your fingers.”
“And how should I…” My voice trailed off when she parted her lips and wiggled her tongue, leaving no doubt about her suggestion.
“God, this is sick!” someone whispered, but the excited glee in her voice was evident.
I could either stand up and have the drops clinging to my pussy run down my legs and stain my skirt. Or I could… It was crazy to consider the thought. But not that much crazier than what was already happening.
The bitch Marietta was trying her best to get me to resign, and I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. My breath shuddered, but I stared back hard at her and reached out with one hand, ran my fingers through my folds and lifted them to my mouth, trying to keep them from shaking too much.
They say pee is hygienic, some even believe it’s healthy. It was strange that I could think of that right now, but I did, and my tongue sneaked out and licked up the salty drops. A strange, lightweight, spinning feeling gripped me.
“Fuck, she’s doing it! She’s really doing it!” I think it was Evie, the youngest one, but I couldn’t be sure.
Something happened between Marietta and me; some kind of secret exchange that we both didn’t fully grasp took place in the blink of an eye.
“Keep that under your desk,” she told me, but her voice was much softer than before, “and bring it back clean before you go home.”
I nodded with blushed cheeks, slipped back into my panties and moved the bowl brimming with my pee under the desk and to the side, outside of reach of my legs.
Marietta turned around and strode to her own desk, and I went back behind mine, afraid to look at my colleagues.
*
I had to stay late -- late enough so that my colleagues were all gone -- and only Marietta and I were left. The barely concealed grins when my co-workers gone home had been mortifying, though Evie’s ‘Bye’ was accompanied by a strange wink.
Finally, Marietta nodded at me. Like a spy in those cheap movies, I sneaked down the corridor and past the other offices with a thumping heart, and I had to lean my back against the door to keep my knees from giving out. I had managed it unseen. I dumped the pee into a toilet, flushed, then washed the bowl with hot water for a good minute before drying it with paper towels.
“Here,” I said to Marietta and held out the bowl to her once I was back at the office, unsure what to do with it.
Instead of telling me where to put it, she went around the desk and took it from my hand. With a wicked grin, she put it down on the floor in front of me, then lifted up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties! I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her shaven pubes with just a strip of dark hair above it and the rosy inner lips that peeked outside.
Just like I had done hours before, she squatted down over the bowl and, with another grin, let go. The moment the hissing, splashing sound filled the office, I shuddered. My heartbeat sped up once again, and I quickly looked away.
“Oh, that’s good!” she whispered.
It took her ages to finish, but finally, the last, short bursts splashed into the bowl, and I expected the rustling of her clothes.
Instead, I heard her say, “You know what to do.”
I bit my lip. A warm, fluttery feeling came alive between my thighs. The blood rushed in my ears when I crouched down and our gazes locked once more.
“Yes, Ms. Miller.”
I extended a trembling hand and ran my fingers through her soft, hot, moist folds. A tiny whimper escaped my throat, then I lifted my fingers to my mouth and she watched me lick her stinky, yucky, salty, delicious pee into my mouth.
“Good girl,” she whispered, and my knees buckled. I barely managed to keep upright. “Now clean it again and put it under your desk. You’ll be needing it.”
She fetched her jacket from her chair and slipped it on, then turned to leave. I bent down to pick up the bowl, but just when she was about to pass me on her way out, she stopped and cupped my chin. She pulled me upright and leaned so close that her lips almost brushed my ear. Goosebumps raced up and down my spine.
“Just so you know,” she whispered sweetly while holding my chin in a vice-like grip, “if you’re a bad girl again, I’ll pee into a glass and make you drink it.”
I almost fainted. Trepidation washed all over me, and I stayed rooted to the spot.
She was long gone when I tip-toed my way to the loo again. This was absolutely crazy!
*
Come Monday morning, I stood in front of my wardrobe for what felt like hours, sifting through the freshly washed and ironed medium length skirts.
Then a tremble raced through my body, and my hand determinedly gripped the flimsy orange, low-cut, figure-hugging minidress. I could already picture Ms. Miller’s -- Marietta’s -- disapproving stare. She’d be furious! I slipped back out of the panties and bra I had already put on. Really furious! I sighed dreamily when the dress slipped down my body.
I couldn’t help it. I was a bad girl.
Eisley
- 09.12.2021
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- Category:
- Fetish
