Everyone looked a bit shocked when they saw Laura come in. After all, she looked like a tramp. Alistair couldn’t help casting a lustful eye across her body despite his predicament, and even Mr. Mackey cracked a brief, amused smile at her clothing. Chelle curled her lip disapprovingly.
Laura blushed and tried to ignore their looks. She hated people at work thinking she was some kind of slut, but after all, she had invited it with her clothing this morning. She hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to de-emphasize her large breasts. She wished for the 100th time that she was more petite and not cursed with such huge, sluttish tits.
Chelle cleared her throat as Laura sat. ‘Thanks for coming in, Laura,” said Chelle.
“That’s okay,” said Laura nervously.
Chelle shuffled through her papers, and then looked up at Laura. “Now, we’re here to talk about a phone call you made to me yesterday afternoon. You called me, and you alleged that Alistair here, your manager, has done some terribly unprofessional and possibly illegal things to you. If true, they’re a very serious allegation, and you deserve and will get our full protection.”
Laura nodded.
Chelle continued. “So today, we’re here to work through those allegations, and learn what happened, and get some formal processes in motion..”
There was silence. Laura said nothing. Alistair was giving her a glare of pure hatred.
Chelle coughed uncomfortably. “Well, Laura, perhaps you could start by telling us what happened yesterday.”
Laura couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She had been a militant feminist all her life, and as such she’d had a dim view of girls who lied about rape. She’d talked about them to all of her friends and written online posts about them. Girls who lie about rape, she’d said, are traitors to their gender. They are dumb, stupid sluts. They deserve to go to male prison and be fucktoys for all the real rapists there. They deserve to be gangraped again and again. Women who really have been raped should be able to make appointments to beat and torture them. Girls who lie about rape are really on the side of men who want to subjugate women. They help men claim that all rape victims are liars. They help rapists. They’re no better than rapists themselves.
That was her, now, though. She had been talking about herself all along.
Laura looked down at the table. “It didn’t happen. Alistair didn’t do anything to me. I lied to you yesterday. I’m sorry.”
Alistair looked like he had been granted a pardon from the death sentence – suddenly happy, but confused. The rest of the room looked shocked and disgusted.
Chelle’s face was hardening. “You know that these allegations are very serious, Laura? Why would you lie about something like this?”
Laura took a deep breath. “Because I’m a dumb slut that likes attention.”
“What?” asked Chelle.
“Because I’m a dumb slut that likes attention.”
Chelle squinted at her. “Is Alistair making you say this, Laura?”
“I swear, Alistair hasn’t told me to say anything,” Laura pleaded, and it was completely true. And Chelle and the others appeared to sense the truth of it.
John, Alistair’s boss, stepped in. Laura couldn’t help but notice that he was looking not at her face as he spoke, but at her breasts. “Maybe you’d better tell us what DID happen yesterday, Laura.”
Laura had been thinking about this. She knew the kind of story her blackmailer wanted her to tell. He hadn’t told her to say it. But he’d told her to make them believe her. If she just kept repeating the same thing, they’d know that someone was forcing her. But she knew that deep down, they did want to believe she was lying. It was easier for them. Less paperwork. She had dressed like a dumb slut, and at an instinctive level they knew that dumb sluts told lies, so she just had to fill in the blanks to let them feel okay about thinking that.
“I’d been kind of lazy last week, so I came in to do some extra work.” She realized her hand was idly toying with the collar of her shirt, drawing attention to her cleavage, and yanked it away, embarrassed. She went on. “Alistair was here, so he called me into his office. He told he was really worried about me, because I’d been dressing so sluttily recently, and he cared about me and he didn’t want to see me get fired.”
She swallowed, entering the more humiliating portion of her tale. “But I was feeling really horny, so I asked him if he wanted to fuck me. He said no, but I took off my skirt and panties anyway and tried to sit in his lap. I was hoping when he felt my bottom against his groin he’d get hard and want to use me for sex. But he freaked out and pushed me away, and I was really humiliated that he didn’t want to fuck me, so I ran away and told a story about him raping me to get back at him. But overnight I realized he didn’t deserve it, and it was my fault, so here I am.”
Chelle was shaking her head in disgust.
“Laura, you know we’re going to have to dismiss you over this.”
“Please no,” begged Laura. “I won’t do it again. I’ll be good. I’ll work closely with Alistair and do what he says. He tried to help me.”
Chelle looked at Alistair. Alistair had clearly worked out the not-so-secret-code in Laura’s plea, even if he didn’t know why it was happening.
“Yes,” said Alistair. “Laura is a good worker. I’m prepared to keep her on, although maybe she should come in an hour early each morning for counselling with me? And I think probably she should come in every day this week, not just her normal casual days. Just for this week”
Chelle sighed. “I’m not impressed, Laura. This was a horrible, dangerous game for you to have played. You’re lucky Alistair is so forgiving. We’ll keep you on, but only as long as Alistair is willing to put up with you, okay?”
Mr. Mackey cleared his throat. “And I’ll be remembering this too, Laura. Remembering that you’re a girl who lied about attempted rape.”
Laura looked down and said nothing. The humiliation was overwhelming.
Slowly, Chelle, John, and the union rep gathered their papers an, one by one, left the conference room. The door closed behind John, and then Laura was alone in the room with Alistair.
The room was large, and no one could see in from the inside. Laura felt scared and vulnerable but she knew her employment now depended on Alistair’s cooperation, so she continued to sit.
Alistair looked at Laura suspiciously. He eyed her slutty clothing and her downcast eyes. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because I’m a dumb slut who likes attention,” said Laura. She looked up, making eye contact, hoping to intimidate him.
It didn’t work. Alistair was staring at Laura’s tits, bulging against the white button-up shirt. “Are you wearing a bra today?” asked Alistair.
“No,” said Laura, blushing.
“Show me,” said Alistair.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to cry, Laura unbuttoned her shirt. The white material parted, and revealed her large, round tits. The room was cold and her nipples stiffened as they were exposed to the air. Laura had a strong urge to cover her boobs with her hands but knew Alistair needed to see them. She kept her hands by her sides and let Alistair stare.
Alistair did indeed stare. He exhaled audibly, and Laura could see the crotch of his pants beginning to tent. After a few moments, he got up, walked over, and sat at a closer chair, within reach of Laura. He leant in, and grabbed Laura’s left boob. Laura let him. His hand felt strange on her tit – so clearly masculine. It was warm, warmer than the room. Gently at first, he began to squeeze. The warmth and the pressure felt good, and Laura sighed. Then he squeezed harder, crushing her melon in his hand. It hurt, and Laura squealed involuntarily.
“What about panties?” Alistair asked, breathing heavily now. His hand was still on her tits, palpating it slowly.
Laura said nothing, only pulled up her skirt and spread her legs. Her pussy was bare and nude and just a little bit moist. Alistair gazed at it, clearly in a personal heaven.
“Seriously, why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because I’m a dumb slut that likes attention,” said Laura. She wished she could close her legs, or hide her tits.
Alistair thought for a while. “All right,” he said. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you at counselling yet, but at a bare minimum there’s this.” He pinched Laura’s nipple for emphasis. “Every morning I’m going to see your tits and your cunt, and I want to find your cunt wet and aroused when I look at it. You’re going to sit in my office with your boobs and twat exposed, and tell me about your sexual encounters and your fantasies, and I’ll play with your tits and pussy if I’m in the mood. We’ll work out the rest as we go.”
Laura nodded numbly.
“Now dress yourself,” Alistair said. “Someone could come in here any minute and you look like a used whore.”
Stinging, Laura pulled down her skirt and buttoned up her shirt. Alistair left the room first and then, shortly after, Laura followed
Her next stop was her workgroup. As she approached her desk, she saw Candy and Geoffrey looking at her in contempt, sizing up her slutty outfit. That would have been bad enough by itself, but Laura had to do more.
“Hi, guys,” she said, standing by her desk. “Um, I don’t know if you heard, but I made some silly accusations on the weekend about Alistair trying to molest me. I just wanted to let you know that they’re complete lies. I only said them because I’m a dumb slut who likes attention.”
Geoffrey responded immediately. “Jesus, Laura, that’s a disgusting thing to do. What kind of horrible person are you?”
Laura felt close to tears again. “I’m a dumb slut that likes attention,” she said.
Geoffrey looked at her disgustedly, but said no more. Laura sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on her work.
Word about Laura got around quickly. She heard people discussing it whispers, sharing the news behind closed doors. Laura had lied about being raped. AND she was dressed like a slut today. An unusually large number of men – and some women – found excuses to walk past Laura’s workspace and peer down her top into her bra-less cleavage. Laura tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.
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