The last problem was her groin, though. Her panties were already noticeably damp from her sex juices. She retreated into one of the toilet stalls, sat on the toilet, removed her panties, and used toilet paper to dab at her pussy, trying to dry it up. Even these light touches on her cunt made her moan. She wanted desperately to play with herself, to fingerfuck herself to orgasm right here, but she knew that under the influence of the drugs if she started to masturbate she wouldn’t stop for hours. And besides, she had been told not to.
Instead, Laura dried herself as best she could, and then fished a sanitary pad out of her handbag and applied it to her panties. The pad should collect most of her juices and at least stop her from leaking onto her seat or the floor. However, she would have to come back to the toilet regularly and dry her pussy and change the pad, or she’d noticeably start smelling of sex.
Tidied and prepared as best she could, Laura headed to her desk.
She didn’t even make it as far as her desk. She was intercepted by Alistair. “Laura,” he said loudly as soon as she came in sight of his office. “What have I told you about showing off your breasts like that?”
Laura jumped, and reflexively covered her breasts. She’d thought they looked fine! Had she judged wrong? Or was this just more of Alistair’s ridiculous obsession with her tits.
“In my office. Now,” demanded Alistair, and Laura had no choice but to follow.
Inside her boss’ dingy office, Laura once again found herself sitting close to Alistair. He put his hand on her left knee before he even started speaking, and left it there.
“Laura, I know you like showing off those melons of yours to everyone, but it’s just not appropriate here in this office,” said Alistair, looking at her sternly.
Laura was having a hard time thinking. She was horny, and guilty, and still certain that her arousal must be evident to anyone. She didn’t know if she was in the wrong or not. She thought she wasn’t, but maybe she was obviously being a colossal slut, and everyone could tell? “Sorry,” was all she could think of to say.
“Oh, Laura, why do you do it? Are you not getting enough sex with your lover Erica?” asked Alistair.
“No…” said Laura.
“Does she lick your cunt enough?” asked Alistair.
“Yes,” said Laura. Suddenly she became aware that her legs were spread. Alistair’s hand on her knee had been slowly pushing her leg outwards, spreading her thighs, and she had let it happen. She moved hurriedly to close her legs, but Alistair had turned so that one of his knees was between her legs, and the most she could do was trap his knee between her thighs. She felt her cunt tingle. Not being able to close her legs all the way reminded her of being on the chair at the Mayim Clinic, and her pussy apparently liked the association.
“Are you even wearing a bra, Laura?” asked Alistair.
“Of course I am!” Laura protested.
“Prove it,” said Alistair.
Once again, Laura was confused. She would normally be outraged at such a suggestion – would storm out of Alistair’s office. But would today be the day to do that? Would she look like a righteous avenger, or with her blushing face and perky tits would she just look like a frustrated whore?
What harm would it do to show Alistair her bra?
Slowly, she unbuttoned the front of her blouse, and pushed it back, to reveal her large, engorged tits cupped in her pink lace bra. She looked at Alistair, trying to concentrate on his reaction rather than the warmth in her pussy. Was he satisfied? Did he like them?
Alistair looked at her tits for long minutes, breathing heavily. Laura couldn’t quite process what it meant. Was he offended? Did he think she had slut tits? Did he hate how big they were?
“I’ll need to take a photo of this to prove you were wearing a bra, in case anyone complains,” said Alistair.
That seemed reasonable to Laura. In any case, Laura was distracted, as Alistair had pushed her legs apart again, and got his other knee in between them. Laura’s skirt was riding up and she thought maybe her panties were visible. She just sat there with her bra exposed, squeezing her legs against Alistair’s knees, while he used his camera to take several photographs of her breasts.
When he was done, he passed Laura a sheet of paper. “You’ll need to sign this as well. It’s an official warning.”
Laura read the paper.
“I, Laura Smith, acknowledge that I displayed my breasts in the workplace to arouse my workmates and to give myself sexual pleasure. I acknowledge that my breasts are large and sexually desirable, and that the way I display them is distracting and lewd. I acknowledge that this is an inappropriate act meriting punishment, and I accept that I have been formally warned in relation to this behavior.”
“But I didn’t….” protested Laura.
“If you don’t sign the paper I’ll have to take the matter to senior management,” said Alistair. ‘If you sign it, you’ll be okay, I promise.”
Alistair was quietly forcing Laura’s legs apart again using his knees. Laura let him. She had to concentrate on the paper. There was something wrong about it, but she just couldn’t think. Well, she could think, but mostly what she was thinking was how nice it would feel to take that fat whiteboard marker on Alistair’s desk and push it in and out of her pussy. She felt her skirt ride up to fully expose her panties, and moved to pull it down again, but before she could do that Alistair had taken her hand and pressed a pen into it.
“Sign the paper, Laura,” he said. Laura almost moaned. She had to get out of here, so she could fix her clothes, and dry her pussy again. If this was what she needed to do to leave, then she would. She uncapped the pen, leant over the desk (hard to do with Alistair’s knees still between her legs) and scribbled her name at the bottom of the paper.
Alistair took the paper, satisfied. “Okay, then, Laura. Look, I suppose that dress is okay if you are really are wearing a bra. But it doesn’t look like it, so you’ll need to come in here every morning and just show me that you remembered to wear a bra, okay?”
Laura nodded. That was okay.
Alistair almost laughed at how easy this was. “What is with you today, Laura? Are you all right?”
“I have a flu,” Laura mumbled.
“Well, look, tidy yourself up, you look like a slut,” he said. “And then get back to work.” He pulled away from Laura, and stood up.
Humiliated, Laura hurriedly re-buttoned her shirt, pulled her skirt back down, and fled his office.
She went straight to the bathroom and sat in one of the toilet stalls. Had she really just been sitting in her boss’ office letting him look at her bra and panties? Had she really just signed a piece of paper apologizing for showing off her tits? What was she doing?
She pulled down her panties and dabbed at her cunt, drying it again. This was a disaster. She wished she hadn’t agreed to take the pills this morning…. except that then the Mayim Clinic might have discharged her, and then her blackmailer would kill her. She sat there, contemplating the Mayim Clinic, and her blackmailer, and the humiliation of exposing herself in front of her boss, and only stopped when she realized that, quite without intending it, her finger had moved to her pussy and started to stroke her clit. She yanked her hand away, blushing.
When Laura eventually got to her desk, she found it was hard to get any work done. Her whole-body chemistry was different; whatever chemicals normally let her brain concentrate and think rationally were washed away by the hormones from the pills. She found herself just staring at her computer screen and thinking progressively sluttier thoughts.
At first, she kept thinking humiliated thoughts about what had happened with Alistair that morning. But then she started thinking about Amy – Amy undressing, Amy dancing nude for her, Amy nuzzling at Laura’s neck and kissing her tits. She thought about the very real finger of Amy’s finger sliding briefly into Laura’s pussy. She soon had to go to the bathroom and dry her pussy again, this time taking the opportunity to change her sanitary pad. It took a force of will to not just start finger-fucking her twat. Instead she texted Erica on her phone.
“hey baby – so horny today – send me a pic of ur pussy”
Erica’s reply came swiftly.
“what? no! :-(”
Laura sent back: “pls baby i luv ur cunny so much. i will lick you tonight.”
The next reply was slower, but when it came it made Laura sigh with lust. It was a high-definition photo of Erica’s clam. She was clearly sitting on a toilet just like Laura, with her skirt pulled up and her panties down. Laura just wanted to lick the phone. More than that, she wanted to finger herself, but she couldn’t. She sent a final text to Erica.
“I luv you so much – u r so beautiful – i feel so lucky and sexy”
Then she sat and looked at Erica’s pussy for almost five minutes. She had never traded sexy photos before with Erica, and she was frankly a little surprised Erica had agreed to do it. But it was so hot that she had. Now Laura had a photo of Erica’s cunt she could look at whenever she wanted, and there was nothing Erica could do about it. She had turned her girlfriend into her own private porn star, and it was very, very hot.
The topic of porn stayed in Laura’s head, and by the time she returned to her desk she was thinking about the porn she had watched at the Mayim Clinic – women kissing, women licking. She even thought about the women being interrupted by men and raped. She found that sexiest of all, somehow – the lesbian sex being interrupted by violence and men’s cocks. Why did she like that? She didn’t like men, after all. She suspected she found it sexy was because it was WRONG for her to find it sexy. It was a betrayal of the fact she was a lesbian. And being taboo made it hot. Besides, she wasn’t really picturing men. She was picturing women with strap-ons. Strap-ons that spurted semen from their tips. She wondered if that was a thing? Could you buy those?
Her pussy was soaking again already, and she’d barely gotten back to her desk. She tried to ignore it and struggled valiantly to do her work for almost 40 minutes, but it just kept getting wetter, and those images of lesbians and cocks kept going around in her head. God damn it! She couldn’t think clearly. Everything in her mind was just sex and whorishness today, under the influence of the pills. Why couldn’t her pussy just behave? It needed a plug on it, clearly. A delicious, fat plug… something big and slutty to go into her cunt. She cast around her desk, in a sudden burst of slutty enthusiasm, and ended up quickly sweeping most of the stationery she could see into her purse, before hurrying to the toilets.
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