“Please,” Jaclyn begged in a whisper to the voice only she could hear.  “Please, don’t make me do it at work.”

 

But she knew there would be no mercy.

 

The voice of her owner spoke in her ear.  “Why don’t we play a little game, Jaclyn?”

 

She flinched, knowing what she was about to hear – and a moment later, she heard it, her trigger phrase: “White Pineapple”.

 

It was the gift of a vengeful ex-boyfriend – a hypnotic backdoor that made her obey.  A week ago, a stranger had shown up a party, and demonstrated to her exactly how well the phrase worked.  When she heard the words “white pineapple”, Jaclyn had no choice but to do what she was told.

 

Now, a week later, she was required to wear a small earpiece, so that the man who controlled her – whose name she didn’t even know – could whisper his commands day and night. 

 

On the night when they first met, Jaclyn’s owner had threatened to make her masturbate in front of her manager at work.  In an act of rebellion, Jaclyn had immediately phoned work and taken a week of leave, postponing her humiliation, hoping her owner would grow bored of her.

 

But her owner had not grown bored, and he liked games.  He liked to give Jaclyn choices.  He enjoyed making her choose her own degradation.  And it seemed like he was in a mood to toy with her today.  Jaclyn’s leave had expired, and she was due back at work.

 

“If you can hear me and you’re a slut, say, ‘Yes, sir’,” said the voice in her ear.

 

Jaclyn knew she *was* a slut – she always got so wet from the humiliating things he made her do – so she had no choice but to say, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good girl,” said her owner.  “Here’s the game we’re going to play.  I’m going to give you ten choices today.  Each time, you’re going to choose one of the options I give you.  If you still have your job at the end of the day, I won’t make you humiliate yourself at work again unless you change your job or become unemployed.”

 

“Okay,” said Jaclyn.  As if she had any choice but to obey.  She felt some relief at the idea that there was a *chance* of keeping her job.

 

“Good girl,” her owner said.  “Now, go to work.  Once you’re at your desk, set up the little camera I gave you, so I can see you.  You’ll hear from me again once it’s in position.”

 

Jaclyn worked as a claims assessor at an insurance agency.  She dressed professionally, and was used to receiving respect from her co-workers.  She’d been dreading the work that must hace accumulated while she was on leave, and indeed, when when she arrived at her desk in the open-plan office, there were already a stack of files waiting for her.

 

She greeted her co-workers with somewhat nervous smiles, explaining vaguely that she’d been unwell last week, and accepting their sympathies.  Once they had returned to their own tastks, Jaclyn put her handbag on the ground, sat at her desk, and clipped the camera her owner had mailed to her to the top of her cubicle, where it would have a good view of her – specifically, it looked down towards her cleavage and her lap..

 

Immediately, she heard her owner in her ear.  “Good girl,” he said.  “A good start to a productive day at work, I’m sure.  And now it’s time for your first choice.”

 

Jaclyn tensed.  She knew she wasn’t going to like this.

 

“Take off your panties, or your bra,” said the voice.  “Right here at your desk.”

 

Jaclyn blushed.  She should have known this was coming.  Her owner’s very first commands to her, a week ago, had involved exposing her body.  But it didn’t mean she liked it.

 

She thought quickly.  She knew if she didn’t choose, her owner would make her do both.  Normally her bra might be less embarrassing to remove, but she was wearing a white shirt.  Without a bra, her nipples would be clearly visible through the fabric.  Whereas her skirt was thick and opaque….

 

Looking around nervously again, she lifted her ass from the seat, put her hands under her skirt, and quickly pulled her panties down her legs and off.  It felt weird and slutty to not be wearing underwear at work. 

 

“Good girl,” said her owner.  “I knew you wouldn’t hesitate to bare your cunt, because that’s the kind of girl you are.  Does having a bare cunt at work make you wet, Jaclyn?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered, humiliated, because it was true.

 

“Second choice,” said her owner.  “Sluts need to show the world that they’re sluts.  Either you can put your panties on your desk, in a visible place,and leave them there all day - or play with that bare slutty pussy of yours right now, at your desk, for five minutes, and don’t stop no matter what.”

 

She breathed deeply.  She thought about her options.  There was no way, she thought, that she could masturbate for five minutes without getting caught.  It might be that no one would look at her for five minutes, if she was lucky, but she felt sure that pulling up her skirt – or the arm movement necessary to play with herself – would draw attention.

 

Blushing bright red, she took her panties and put them on her desk, laying them flat to the side of the pile of files.  They were black and lacy.

 

“Good girl,” said her owner again.  “Now, why don’t you get some work done?”

 

She blushed, and tried to work.

 

Over the next hour, several of her co-workers walked past.  Most of them saw her panties.  They looked at the panties, then looked at Jaclyn.  She blushed deeper, and avoided eye contact.  She heard whispered conversations at times from the break room, and felt sure they were about her – about her panty-less cunt.

 

Only one person asked her about them.  Geoff from HR stopped by, looked at the panties, and said, “Everything okay, Jaclyn?”

 

Her owner hadn’t told her she needed to tell the truth.  But what else could she say?

 

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

 

“Are these yours?” he asked, pointing at the panties.

 

“Yes,” Jaclyn said, blushing bright red.

 

“Are you wearing any panties right now?” he asked, his eyebrows going up.

 

“No,” said Jaclyn, even redder.

 

“Oh,” he said, and, “Okay.”  To Jaclyn’s immense relief, he walked off with no further comment.

 

“Third choice,” said her owner suddenly.  “Take a photo of your pussy and send it to the printer, or use the photocopier to take a photo of your bare breasts.  Either way, keep the result in your in-tray for the rest of the day.”

 

Jaclyn shuddered at her owner’s cruelty.  Experimentally, she lowered her phone beneath the desk and took a photo of her pussy.  She was surprised by how visibly wet it was – but it was also dark under her desk, and not a good photo.  She wasn’t sure her owner would allow it, and she felt too nervous to photograph her cunt in better light.  Besides, to print the photo she’d have to move it to her work computer – and she couldn’t bear the thought of getting caught with a photo of her vagina on the work IT system.

 

So she nervously stood and headed to the photocopying room.  It was relatively secluded from the office floor – if no one else was using the photocopier, no one would really be looking at her.

 

She was in luck.  The room was empty.  Looking around nervously, she pulled her large tits out of her bra, opened the lid of the photocopier, and rested her breasts on the glass.  She gently lowered the lid to rest on the upper slopes of her tits, and then pressed the “copy” button.

 

At that moment, she heard someone walk in behind her.  Her eyes went wide.  In a split second she analysed her choices – jump upright with her tits bare; or try and stuff her tits back into her top – and settled on one she almost immediately regretted – pushing the photocopier lid down hard on her tits and leaning on it, in an attempt to make it look like she was just resting on top of the photocopier.

 

By the time she realised how silly a choice it was, it was too late to change it.  Her tits were trapped under the photocopier lid, with the full weight of her upper body pressing the lid down painfully onto them.  She was bent at the waist, ass out, and her skirt was riding up enough she was worried that her bare cunt might show.  The whole pose was ludicrously unnatural.

 

And worse, the last person had set the copier to 50 copies, so instead of a single black and white scan of her tits, the photocopier was printing copy after copy of her udders.

 

The person who had walked in was Carl, from customer service.

 

“Hi Carl,” said Jaclyn awkwardly.  She had no idea if he could see that her tits were squashed in the copier.  She was filled with shame and embarrassment and just wanted him to leave.

 

“What…. What are you doing, Jaclyn?” he asked her.

 

“Oh, just taking a rest,” she said, lamely.

 

“Are you using the copier?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said, then, “I mean, yes.  Just waiting for my copies to finish.”

 

“It looks like the copier lid is open a bit,” said Carl.  “Is it broken?”

 

Jaclyn blushed harder.  If he could see it was open, surely he could see that she had her tits in the machine – couldn’t he?  “Everything’s fine,” she said quickly.

 

“Hang on, let me try to fix it,” said Carl.  He walked up to her.  She couldn’t really turn her head to see his expression. 

 

“Please, it’s…” she started to say – but then Carl leaned forward, and pushed the copier lid down, hard – crushing her tits agonisingly.  She squealed.

 

“Is there something stuck under the lid, Jaclyn?” asked Carl. 

 

Jaclyn’s voice caught in her throat.  Should she say yes, and admit she was photocopying her tits?  Carl surely knew.  Surely he could see.  But could she admit that?

 

“No,” she said.  “It should close.”

 

“Okay,” said Carl, pushing it down again, even harder.

 

Jaclyn moaned in pain.

 

“No,” said Carl, “I’m pretty sure some stupid bimbo has left something under the lid.  Do you think that’s what’s happened, Jaclyn?”

 

“Yes…” moaned Jaclyn.  She just wanted Carl to leave.

 

But instead he walked around to the output tray and lifted up the most recent copy.  Again, Jaclyn couldn’t see.  Was it obvious it was a picture of her tits?

 

Suddenly, Jaclyn’s owner’s voice sounded in her ear.  “That’s quite the position you’re in, Jaclyn,” he said.  “I didn’t tell you to do that.  That’s all you.”

 

Jaclyn moaned again.  How could her owner even see her here?

 

“Fourth choice, Jaclyn,” said her owner.  “And make it quickly while your co-worker is still there.  Either tell him to keep trying to close the lid – much harder – or else pull your skirt up to your waist.”

 

Jaclyn squeaked.  Her tits hurt so much.  She didn’t like the idea of asking Carl to hurt them more.  But she also had another concern – that if Carl pressed harder on the lid, it might break, and then she would have to explain to management how she had broken the photocopier and what she had been photocopying.

 

Of course, she didn’t like the other option *at all*, but she was pretty sure Carl already knew she was being a slut.

 

She reached back and raised her skirt to her waist, exposing her dripping wet cunt. 

 

She heard Carl suck in his breath.  “Jesus, Jaclyn, I never knew you were such a slut,” he said.  A pause, and then, “I can’t fuck you here.  Someone will see.”

 

Jaclyn said nothing.  She didn’t want to fuck him anyway, but she was worried saying something might be against the spirit of the choice she had made.

 

“Later,” said Carl.  “We’ll do it later.” 

 

And then, after a considering pause, he suddenly crumpled up the photocopy of Jaclyn’s tits that was in his hand.  He reached forward, and Jaclyn squealed as she felt him part her soaking-wet pussy lips, spreading her fuckhole open, and then push the crumpled-up ball of paper into her pussy, as if she were a human garbage bin.  Jaclyn’s face was burning.  She felt so humiliated.

 

“Jeez,” said Carl.  “Someone’s made the garbage bin all wet.  I’m going to have to wash my hands now.”  He picked up the rest of the photocopies, and said, “I’ll go make sure these are appropriately filed.”  Then, looking around to make sure he hadn’t been seen, he left with the rest of the photocopies of Jaclyn’s tits – stopping only to push the photocopier lid down on Jaclyn’s breasts one last time….

 

(END)