Cassie paused at the doors to the CEO’s office. They were twelve feet tall, wide, heavy, and imposing. She put her hand on one handle, took a deep breath, reminded herself of her mission, and pulled.
She found herself not in the presence of the Chief Executive, but in an opulently furnished reception room, at the far end of which was another pair of massive doors.
Cassie wore her best business suit, finely tailored navy blue wool over a cream silk shell. Feminine but business-appropriate heels, hose, and pearl stud earrings completed her outfit. She was every bit a match for her surroundings; still, her stomach twisted as she caught the gaze of the receptionist, seated at a mahogany desk to her right.
The receptionist was a mature woman with a careful up-do, a grey wool dress, and spectacles hanging from a cord around her neck, resting upon her substantial bosom. She eyed Cassie critically before asking “May I help you?”
Cassie gave her name, and asked to see Mr. Biggles, the CEO.
“On what subject?”
“I’m overdue for a promotion,” Cassie explained, “And a raise. And I’m not getting anywhere with my manager or H.R. or any of the usual channels. So I decided to go straight to the top to make my case.”
“I see,” said the receptionist. She pushed her chair back from her desk to get a fuller view of the importunate employee. “You feel entitled, and you want Mr. Biggles to attend to you personally.”
“Not entitled,” Cassie insisted. “I worked hard to earn a better position. I’m just frustrated that everyone in charge won’t see that.”
“Mmm-hmm. Poor little thing. Well, if you want to plead your case to the boss, you’re sure not going in dressed like that.”
Cassie was startled. “Like what? This is my best —”
“A girl who wants C-level attention goes through those doors naked and crawling.”
“You — you can’t be serious!”
The receptionist sat quietly.
“This is, this is the twenty-first century! That’s ridiculous! That’s outrageous! I’m calling H.R.,” Cassie sputtered.
“The same department that doesn’t listen to your demands for a promotion?”
Cassie flushed angrily. “Well, they’ll listen to this.”
“It’s been so nice to make your acquaintance,” the receptionist said, and turned her attention back to the monitor on her desktop, dismissing Cassie entirely.
“But. But I came to see — damn it, I need to see Mr. Biggles!”
“So you said. Take your suit off.”
“I will not!”
“As you wish.”
The two women stared at each other, one enraged, one cool and impassive.
“Seriously? Naked? Crawling?”
“Humiliation is currency at this level. As is obedience. Jacket, skirt, blouse. Now.”
Seething, shocked, outraged, and out of options, Cassie slowly complied.
“Bra and panties. Keep the garter belt, the stockings, and those quite ugly heels.”
Biting back a retort, Cassie unhooked her bra and, finally, slid her panties down and stepped out of them.
“So much better,” said the receptionist, “Now let me see you crawl.”
Embarrassed and angry, Cassie got down on her hands and knees and took a few slow paces toward the interior doors.
“Oh, no no no no no,” she heard. She turned her head and saw the receptionist seated in her desk chair, with her dress pulled up to her waist and her legs spread over the arms of the chair. The woman’s pussy was bare, open, and shiny with juices.
“You don’t have an appointment yet.”
— Frenulum
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