Bring Your Master To Work Day Ch 02
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Bring Your Master To Work Day Ch. 01 free porn video
Megan Divan heaved her usual sigh as she passed through the revolving doors that lead to the site of her daily drudgery. Like she did every day. Sure, maybe today was special, but the occasion was as ‘special’ to her as the memo about not pilfering post-its and paper clips was ‘urgent.’
I mean, Bring Your Master To Work Day? This was just idiotic – a classic testament to the idea that a committee was a life form with six or more legs and no brain. As the chair of the social committee, she’d headed up the meeting to plan the company’s annual Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. Instead… after lots of discussion, they wound up with this lunacy.
Bring Your Master… I mean, really. This was going to be a complete waste of the paltry budget set aside for it. At least there was going to be a free lunch.
Megan rode the elevator up to their floor, and immediately the fuzzy, atonal muzak piped non-stop through the PA system was assaulting her sense of taste. Here it was, seven o’clock in the morning, and the crap was already running. Still running from yesterday, for all she knew.
Ever since their new HR manager Desiree had been hired on, she’d insisted on the stuff. ‘Morale booster,’ she said. Megan had been optimistic at first – every employee could access the system, select their own tunes, the only limitation being what you were willing and able to inflict on your coworkers. That part was good, only the shoddy third-rate hardware for it left everything half-obscured behind a wall of static.
Ah, well. Most of the time she didn’t even notice, in one ear and out the other. Harmless white noise.
For the next hour, Megan decorated the office for the occasion, feeling foolish every second of it. Readying the punch bowl and other dishes for the luncheon, setting up funtivities in the break room, reviewing her detailed agenda for the day (as if it would matter), putting up the big gawdy ‘WELCOME MASTER’ banner across the entryway.
(Megan had told Desiree this sign should read ‘masters’ to be more inclusive, but Desiree insisted singular would be fine. Frankly, Megan couldn’t begin to imagine they’d have enough to merit even the singular, so she hadn’t put up much of a fight.)
By the time everyone else started showing up an hour or so later, things were looking as good as they ever would. Not that anyone noticed or said thank you. Such was the lot of the junior HR representative. If anything went well, it would be to Desiree’s credit, if anything went poorly, she’d find a way to pawn it off on Megan.
Everybody took Desiree’s word on everything around here, it seemed. That woman could get away with anything.
At least people were taking the event seriously. Not a woman came in wearing anything outside the day’s uniquely ‘casual’ dress code. (Desiree had called it casual, Megan, when she heard the details in the day’s digital agenda, had called it whorish. But like most things, it wasn’t her call to make.)
About a third of the ladies were wearing ultra-brief ultra-tight miniskirts, as was Megan herself. All the other ladies were wearing short, low-cut dresses that looked more appropriate in a night club than a professional office.
Except for Patty, who was rocking a way-too-tight-for-work pant suit, complete with a blouse that was tied off just beneath her breasts to show her impressively flat mid-riff. Megan could hardly blame her for showing off. All the women on staff had braggable bodies of one sort or another, of course.
Desiree had cleaned house of the older folks when she came on board, followed shortly by the men, narrowly dodging a slew of law suits. She’d had her reasons – reducing payroll, increasing innovation, putting a fresh face on the office – but still, it had definitely been a shake-up. When the dust settled, Megan had to concede that the company was in good hands, those of an assortment of talented young women. Lovely ones, at that.
The company had once had a diverse assortment of body types, running from painfully skinny Skyler to Gail the Whale, as she was called. Then Desiree had changed the company’s health insurer, and daily hour-long workouts became mandatory to retain benefits. In six months, there wasn’t a woman in the company who wore larger than a size 4.
Desiree had actually gone so far as to make special deals with local vendors so the ladies could renew their wardrobes for their healthy new bodies. Megan hadn’t even really needed to, but then, the discounts were just too darn good. Practically half her paycheck went to buying skanky clothes she never even wore.
Objectively, she felt humiliated every time she even tried one of the new outfits on, and she’d talked to her work buddies and knew they felt the same. Still, a deal was a deal, and Desiree had more or less insisted. Even as whorish as she felt going to work dressed like this, at least everyone else was too.
Megan watched with satisfaction as the girls gave themselves once-overs, making sure everything looked just right for all these so-called masters that obviously weren’t going to show up. A nice thick layer of makeup was applied on every face, a heavy coat of lipstick on every lip. Some women went the extra step and sprinkled glitter across their exposed bosoms, or let a coworker do their hair.
Grace and Gretchen – the so-called twins, for their similarity of appearance – took turns granting the other pig tails. They wore matching tartan skirts and white blouses, matching portraits of slutty schoolgirls.
Megan could hardly believe all this effort for such a stupid occasion. What kind of self-respecting adult woman had a master? Much less brought him in to work! It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
Only then, Desiree showed up.
Along with Desiree’s master.
The whole office looked on with rapt attention as the two entered. He was an older man – not old, per se, but older than any of the twenty- and thirty-somethings in the office. He wasn’t especially good-looking, either. A little paunchy, not a whole lot of toppings on the table. At first Megan assumed he was a client, but then she took stock of two things. First, no one was to schedule any client meetings today.
Second, his hand was resting square on Desiree’s plump bottom.
‘Hey, everybody!’ she greeted the crew, cheeks reddening as the whole company saw her walking in as some stranger’s arm candy. ‘I’d like to introduce everyone to my–’
The man silenced her with a finger to her lips. ‘Enough yap, sweetie. Wow, this place looks really great – thank you, thank you all so much for making me feel so welcome. Desiree was really nervous you all wouldn’t come through, but something told me you’d prove her wrong. Right, babe? Who knows best?’
Desiree took a deep breath, and the usually assertive HR manager responded in a tiny voice. ‘You do, mumble.’
‘Come again?’ He grinned, tapping his ear.
‘You do, master,’ she repeated, only barely louder. Loud enough for the office to hear her, though.
Megan grinned. Her planning hadn’t been for nothing after all!
‘Damn straight,’ he said, slapping her hard on the behind. ‘You all can call me Master, too, or if you’d like to be a little less formal, Master Dylan. I’m easy-going about it.’
‘Welcome, Master Dylan,’ Megan said, deciding to make this whole awkward situation as light-hearted as possible. ‘We’re very pleased you could join us today. I think you’re going to have a lot of fun, and I hope you’ll learn a lot about our company.’
Dylan turned his attention to Megan, leering undisguisedly at the cleavage exposed by her top, which had a low square neckline that took advantage of the push-up bra Desiree had demanded of her for the day. ‘Damn, honey, looks like you could teach me plenty.’
She endured his ogling with dignity, like a professional. It went on for more than a minute – he asked her to twirl for him, and
she did, wishing her dress didn’t expose her bare, shaved pussy as she did so. (The day’s dress code had expressly forbidden panties.)
It was Desiree who put an end to it. ‘Master, I believe you said you wanted to start the day in my office, performing a few last-minute tweaks to the day’s digital agenda?’ After a moment, he stopped staring at Megan, and she took it as permission to cease her spinning. She had to steady herself against a wall, she was so dizzy from it.
‘Right, doll face, right. C’mon, let’s hop to it.’ He snapped his fingers, and Desiree literally leapt into action, darting into her office. Dylan followed behind her.
Megan’s work station was just outside Desiree’s office, so she didn’t really have much respite. Everything about today was at least a little strange, but really, what struck everyone as being just plain wrong was not having the digital agenda in their inbox to start the day.
It was another of Desiree’s initiatives, and again, seemed like such a good idea from the outset. Everybody came in and was treated to a cup of coffee brewed and poured by Desiree herself (those who didn’t care for it soon picked up the habit), then watched the digital agenda as they sipped away.
The agenda was just a daily video Desiree distributed, a combination of blandly inspirational quotes and clips, business-related reminders, and a cacophany of irksome noises and ugly feedback thanks to whatever cheap-ass software she’d employed.
Frankly, it complemented the muzak perfectly.
Megan had sold the idea to the company on the basis of being a time-saver on reading pointless memos and avoiding needless meetings. Instead, it absorbed at least an hour every morning, often more. Nobody even paid attention to it – every last lady in the company just stared into space, slack-jawed, as digital Desiree jabbered on about God only knew what.
Today, for the first time in months, there wasn’t one. How did she used to start the day? She didn’t even know what to do, so she just sat at her desk and anxiously clicked ‘refresh’ in her email every two or three seconds.
She could hear Desiree and Dylan’s muffled voices coming from the adjacent office. She only half-listened, distracted by her need to get the digital agenda ritual done and over with so the day could begin.
‘…already included the trigger, Master…’
‘…redhead in the pants, what’s that about?’
‘…practically obey my every word as it is…’
‘…see if you did right or if I need a new bottom bitch…’
‘…please don’t throw me away, Master…’
‘…please don’t embarrass me in front of the company…’
‘…please touch me…’
Geez, what a slut, Megan thought, still clicking that refresh button.
Finally, mercifully, the email arrived. She eagerly double-clicked the attachment and let the tedium roll. Today’s agenda was read by Desiree and Dylan together, but it was no more interesting for it. In fact, it was far less so than usual. Obey Master, permit him whatever he wants, don’t be ruffled by anything unusual… same basic message, repeated over and over in a hundred ways.
Same old boring garbage. In one ear and out through neither.
It was barely distracting enough to keep her from being annoyed by the sounds of Desiree grunting and wailing in her office. Once, after a particularly loud shriek, Megan craned her neck to peer in the open door, but there was nothing interesting, just her slut of a boss bent over her desk with her skirt flipped up over her ass, Master Dylan plowing her from behind.
She promptly got back to watching. One thing at a time.
‘Hey guys, I don’t know if you’re ready or not, but we have some of our festivity funtivities ready to go whenever, um, Master Dylan is ready,’ Megan announced in Desiree’s doorway a short time later.
Dylan pulled out of Desiree with a wet plop and tucked his gear away without missing a beat. Despite not being remotely attracted to the man, Megan couldn’t help but stare at the man’s cock until it was out of sight again. ‘Oho, funtivities? I can hardly wait. Sure, let’s get this party started.’
Panting, Desiree rolled off her desktop, knocking some papers and a picture of her family to the floor. ‘Yes, let’s,’ she said shakily.
She was halfway to the door before Megan felt compelled to say something. ‘Um, Desiree… you forgot to put your skirt back on.’ Not that the junior HR rep cared about her supervisor embarrassing herself in front of the whole office, but it reflected poorly on the department.
Desiree went crimson at the faux pas, but Dylan just laughed. ‘Tsk tsk, jelly tush, carelessness in the workplace shouldn’t be overlooked. C’mon, now you’re going without.’ Desiree nodded, and trailed along behind them naked from the waist down, her pussy juices already trickling down her leg.
Megan didn’t make a big fuss over it, sure, her supervisor was a total slut, but it was Bring Your Master To Work Day, after all. What was she supposed to do, not bring him? Or not obey? Both were equally preposterous. Not like she wasn’t juicing up herself. Just in case.
Most people noticed them enter the office from the HR area – after all, how do you not notice a half-naked woman in the workplace? (Or her Master, for that matter, whom Megan found impossible not to watch closely for any sign of a command.) Still, she raised her voice to make sure everyone who might need to heard her.
‘All righty, ladies, we’re getting funtivities underway, so first up I need my WTB task force to convene in the conference room. Team TORA, you’re on deck so don’t get involved in anything you can’t put a bookmark in.’
Megan lead Master Dylan and the four girls on the task force into the conference room. Desiree followed, not seeming sure whether or not her master was done with her. Jessica, Melissa, Gail and Angela didn’t even need prompting to line up shoulder to shoulder against the wall, projecting courteous and inviting smiles.
They were professionals all right, even if they hadn’t exactly been trained for this.
‘All righty, Master Dylan,’ Megan began, ‘first up is a game we call ‘Who’s That Bust?’. We think you’re really going to enjoy it.’
Dylan guffawed at the name. ‘Oh, that’s just marvelous. Your idea, Snatchmuffin?’
Desiree shrugged. ‘It came out of the committee. We adapted it from a game we played with the children on Bring Your Daughter Day, but decided Master might prefer something a bit more… adult.’
‘Well if I’m guessing the rules right, you decided right,’ he said, looking along the line of bosoms. With good reason. The committee had chosen the women for this game carefully.
There was Angela, trim and petite, but who after the company-sponsored augmentation sported a pair of breasts that were far too large for her tiny frame. Jessica’s were the smallest of the lot, probably only a C cup, but with her height and wide hips the imagination might guess them larger than they were. Melissa’s were the Baby Bear of the group, not too much, not too little, but just right for her body.
And Gail… well, her colossal tits were the only reason she’d been unsuccessful in shedding the nickname ‘the Whale’ after she lost almost eighty pounds and had surgeries to tighten her skin and smooth everything out presentably.
(Megan still thought it was a wasteful inclusion in the health care package, but today at least, it made some sense.)
Megan cleared her throat. ‘So it’s a relatively simple game. You have as much time as you want to study the girls’ chests while they’re still covered.’ (‘Covered’ was a relative term, not a girl here was more than an inch from showing nipple with their choice of garments.) ‘Then you close your eyes and have to guess using only your sense of touch whose, um, breasts belong to whom.’
Each participant was to introduce
herself, but Dylan just told them they’d be One, Two, Three and Four, names didn’t much matter to him. ‘Whose Them Boobies,’ he said, leering across the bounty of exposed flesh. ‘Titties like these, gotta say this is a game where you win even if you lose, eh HR rep lady?’
She wanted to point out her name was Megan, but after he’d just said he didn’t care about the women’s names, she skipped it and responded to the point of his remark. ‘That’s the idea, Master – all supposed to be in good fun for you. We selected some of the best, um, titties in the office.’ She wrinkled her nose at using the word titties, but if that’s how master wanted them called, she’d honor it.
As Dylan walked in circles around each of them, studying the four women from every angle, the girls placidly stood there jutting their boobies out for inspection. Megan had to hand it to them, she wasn’t sure she’d be nearly so professional about being inspected like a piece of meat.
‘Um, Master Dylan, you’re not supposed to feel the girls yet,’ she said gently. Not that what he was feeling was going to give him an edge. She hoped she didn’t sound like she was telling him what to do, she just wanted to make sure he understood the nature of the game. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized. Just to be sure.
He just rolled his eyes, and after a bit more probing, slid his hand out from under Melissa’s skirt. ‘Fine, fine. Nothing braggable down there anyway.’ Melissa pouted a moment, but a stern glare from Desiree put a fake smile right back on her face.
When Dylan said he was ready, Megan told him it was time to blind-fold him. She began removing her bra awkwardly under her clothes. (It had been Desiree’s suggestion to use a bra as a blindfold, which was the only reason Megan had been the sole exception to the No Bra policy today.)
Dylan frowned and made a gesture, Megan understood its meaning, and so simply opened her blouse up and slid it off her shoulders, leaving it tucked into her skirt, then removed her bra in front of everyone.
It was humiliating, being topless in front of this man, some other woman’s master, but then, she supposed it was only fair considering the activity. Once it was off, her nipples hardened instantly (from the AC, of course, she definitely wasn’t aroused… much). Megan smiled politely and placed one of the cups over Dylan’s face, then secured it as best she could.
‘All right ladies, strip and shuffle! Titties out!’ Megan announced. She felt uncomfortable treating something this degrading as just a game, but everybody put up with a certain amount of juvenile nonsense in their jobs. Right?
Megan put her blouse back on as the other girls shed theirs, or lowered the top half of their dresses down around their waists. They were indeed each distinct. Jessica’s cone-shaped nipples protruding, Gail’s massive and slightly sagging without being droopy, Melissa’s perky with tiny dark brown nipples, Angela’s ludicrously fake-looking, the male-fantasy kind one never saw outside of pornos.
Desiree just sat back on the conference table and softly rubbed her thighs together, a puddle of pussy juice beginning to form immediately. Slut.
‘All right, Master Dylan – time to play ‘Who’s Them Boobies?’!’ She came up behind him, very conscious of the way her nipples pressed into his back through their shirts, and guided his hands out to the first contestant, Melissa. It was hard to believe she was actually putting a man’s grubby paws on her colleague’s naked titties, but…
It was on theme for the day, she had to admit.
After a few minutes of fondling and kneading her boobs, then pulling her forward and inhaling her nipples into his mouth, Dylan prodded her back and grinned. ‘That’s my girl Two,’ he announced confidently.
Two, Melissa – though now that Master said so, Megan had to admit she made more sense as a ‘Two’ – giggled, obviously flattered. ‘Nicely done, Master!’
He patted her tits, then took both nipples and tugged her a bit aside. She moved, gasping at the rough handling, but didn’t stop rubbing her nipples once she’d started soothing them. ‘Next!’
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