2018/10/21

Glass Ceiling, Part 2

The doors to the CEO’s suite opened silently. A moment later, Cassie emerged into the spacious reception room, crawling on her hands and knees. As the doors began to swing shut behind her, she rose unsteadily to a kneeling position. Then, grabbing the arm of a chair for balance, she stood.

The knees of her stockings were gone, and they were laddered extensively in other spots. Two of the garter straps had torn free. Cassie’s ass cheeks, sit spots, and upper thighs were a deep crimson, patterned with strokes from at least a tawse and a crop, perhaps more. The color looked all the deeper in contrast to the fluffy white bunny-tail plugged into her asshole.

Cassie’s hair was a tangled mess, sticky with drying cum, glued to her face in several gooey spots. Her cheeks were streaked with trails of eye makeup; her lipstick was gone and her lips were swollen.

The receptionist, prim, neat, dressed, and calm, said “It appears you were able to plead your case.”

Cassie nodded without really processing the remark. She looked around the room dazedly, her eyes wandering aimlessly from place to place. “What happened to — where’s my suit? My underwear, where’s my blouse?”

“I have no idea,” replied the receptionist. “I’m afraid I’m far too busy to keep track of other people’s belongings.”

“But. But I. I can’t go back to my desk like this!”

“You certainly can’t stay here,” the receptionist answered, as if Cassie had proposed something indecent or, worse, contrary to company policy.

As Cassie stood in the office, nude, bedraggled, embarrassed, and buns on fire, one outer door to the reception area was pulled open, and another employee entered from the elevator lobby. Like Cassie, she was nude, sporting only a pair of high platform heels and a pink polka-dot bow around each of her long blonde pigtails. Unlike Cassie she was fresh, perky, and smiling. She was tall even without the heels, long-legged, and displayed the toned body of an athlete — perhaps, given the fresh-faced blonde-haired stereotype, a cheerleader.

“Hello, Mrs. Bartlet!” she chirped; then noticing her colleague, “Hey, Cassie! What a nice surprise!”

“Laurel,” Cassie answered, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was looking at the company org chart? And I noticed there was a blank box above you? So I thought maybe I should apply!”

“But — you’re just an intern! You haven’t even finished college!” Cassie protested.

“I haven’t even started college,” Laurel said with a giggle. “But I just turned eighteen? So if I fuck an old man it’s legal? So I just figured what the heck, give it a shot, right?” She turned her attention away from the sputtering, speechless Cassie. “Mrs. Bartlet, is he ready for me?”

“Mr. Biggles just finished another interview, so I think we had best wait a bit, dear,” said the receptionist, with a kindness Cassie had never heard in her voice. “Are you all prepared?”

The pretty blonde turned around, swinging her pigtails, bent over at the waist, and reached back to spread her buns. “Cleaned out and lubed up, Mrs. Bartlet!” she chirped, as Cassie looked on, dumbfounded. Laurel stood up and turned back, grinning.

“Remember, dear,” said the receptionist. “It’s not only acceptable to cry a little bit, it will work to your advantage.”

“Yes, ma’am! I’ve practiced lots. Oh, Sir, your cock is so big, and my virgin asshole is so tiny, I don’t think you’ll fit! Sir, please be gentle, that really hurts, you’re stretching me, oh please, you’re so deep!” Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes — which she blinked away as a smile returned to her face. “Pretty good, huh?”

“Excellent, my dear. Now, just relax for a bit until I call you.” The receptionist turned back to Cassie with a sudden frown. “You were dismissed,” she said, acerbically.

“You can’t — ” stammered Cassie, “She can’t — she’s just a kid, she’s been here for three weeks, you can’t seriously think —” She broke off, unable to utter the thought of reporting to a no-experience airheaded teenager. Then another thought occurred. “And anyway, why have you been so nice to her compared to me?”

Mrs. Bartlet finally treated Cassie to a smile. “When Laurel made her appointment — in advance, I might add — her request was made with skill and enthusiasm, and repeated often.” She began slowly to slide the hem of dress upwards. “Would you care to try to improve? No? Then pull that tail out of your ass and get back to work.”

Cassie fled, with sounds of laughter behind her. In the elevator lobby, a nude, chastised, cum-coated mess, she pressed the Down button.

— Frenulum

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