Not a Blonde: A Rayper & Phalson Officegirl
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Mind Control, MaleDom, Spanking, Humiliation, Harem, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Office girls at Rayper & Phalson compete for their executives bosses' attentions and favors, in a post-feminist world.
The time is the post-feminist future, and the patriarchy is back. There is a new world order. A vaccine for AIDS, has been invented, but not one for the internet, which crashed, virus ridden, in 2011. The world economy is rewards those who own it: a small elite of white men. Equal opportunity in the areas of race and gender are over, legislatively and practically. The glass ceiling is low. Very low. Women and people of color can't vote, or own real estate, stocks, bonds or even have savings accounts; checking accounts are allowed, with a male co signer.
Upper class white girls, try to get married, in the early twenties after two years of finishing school - and simply try to be good little wives keeping to a elaborately styled, often corseted or girdled, Stepford look. Having, and taking care babies, keeping house, with the help of a colored maid, and looking tastefully pretty for their husbands in their tasks in life. Time out the home is devoted to excising, salon visits and shopping for new cloths. Girls are raised to understand that their husbands will screw around on them, beginning usually and after she swells up with her first, but that's never a an accepted cause for a hissy fit, or even a murmur. As her mother will remind her, that's his right; what she must try to is to entice him back to bed for another baby, by dieting, excising and getting her figure back.
After she has raised the children though, husband isn't held back from dumping her: no-fault divorce has been replaced by 'her fault' divorce. A wife's 'unattractiveness' is a recognized, a common ground for divorce, and is usually exercised when the children are in their teens, and she is approaching her late thirties. Then, she is on her own on the streets, or still in his guardianship, at his option, forever.
White girls from poor, working class, or low middle class families, -- can try repetitive, menial factory work (hand made thing are fashionable, and within reach again), or if they are very pretty and very lucky, office work, where the most common job is secretary or Secigirl, the highest they can rise to would be Executive Personal Assistant to an powerful executive. Typing, photocopying and filing are now at heart of office work, since computers can't be trusted any more. Very pretty light skinned Black girls with refined featured might make a shop assistant or a waitress at the high class bar or restaurant, but that rare. Dark, coarse featured girls might find some work as anonymous cleaning fillies on crews sweeping, scrubbing and mopping large buildings or have to settle for factory or farm work. Some and the darker girls with wider noses and thicker lips, who are slim and full busted, and high assed might find work street whores, and are ruthlessly managed by their black pimps; which is also what any pretty white girl who can't keep an office job might well be relegated to.
Upper class boys, have every privilege and go on to be corporate executives, lawyers or physicians; lower class men loiter the streets as petty drug dealers or pimps, languish in jail from time to time, or most of all serve long, overseas tours in the Army fighting and dieing in foreign wars.
Yes, its back to the future; welcome to a new world.
I. The Belt & the Key.
"There he is," Lana breathed. Her small fingers were tight on the tube of brick red gloss, pressing like a cock on her pouting lips.
Cindy gasped out, pressing her small breasts on Lana's arm, "O God yes," she said in a horse whimper, freshly darkened lashes fluttering with exictment.
Kathy, who was beside them, gave the two other girls a snide look, and stepped sideways, and a tiny bit away from the mirror, to see him better. Their boss, Mr. Brinson was just stepping out of his office, having given his Personal Assistant Lauren some instructions, and a quick pat on her backside. The secreteries by the mirror in the long-room watched him walk out of his office, eyes no longer on the reflections of their carefully painted faces in the mirror, but on his long powerful strides, as he moved towards the elevator.
The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in, greeting a scarlet mini-skirted blonde girl who was in it, with a chuck under her pretty chin, "Hi Deanna. Looking forward to this evening?"
"Oh Mr. Brinson. Sir! Yes, of course sir, are you coming by?" She simpered, and stepped to him, heavy braless breasts, swaying in her sleevless silk shirt, which she had tied up to expose her belly stud. Her stiff right nipple brushing his elbow. "That would be so hot, sir!" said said.
The doors closed, with swoosh and Lana sighed softly in frustration, thumbs running on her hips, as the elevator went up. "She is such a forward little ho," she hissed to Cindy.
Cindy nodded. "I can't belive she goes braless; her cow titts are so saggy!" she whispered back, just as Miss Witherspoon, their office manager, gave Lana a stinging snap of her leather strap, on her spadex clad ass.
"That's enough chattering. Back to your seats, you three." she said coldly.
Kathy sniggered softly, gald it wasn't her that got the shot.
Lana yelped a "Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am," and all the girls hurried back to their seats.
Kathi sat down quickly, and began to type, trying to focus on the black letters on the onion skin, the keyboard, and the recorded voice of Mr. Brinson on the Dictaphone at the same time. She stopped, half whimpering to herself, unable to take her mind off his swift strides to the elevator. It was just the Friday of her second week at Rayper & Phalson. The first week and half, she had just been getting used to the job, working out the rules and where she fitted in, trying not to get too strung out or dtized up. And she had been okay, until she had actually seen Mr. Brinson nude at shape&slim hour in the gym, a couple of days before. O'ma'God. That had totally flipped her out. She didn't know what it was, it just had. Earlier, he was a large, but sort of vague presence in her mind, but now he was at the center of her world, she couldn't stop thinking about him, suddenly.
Of course, the thing was, as a secretary girl she didn't see much of Mr. Brinson. All the Secigirls would be in their seats, working when he came in around 9.30 or so, and he would step into the long-room for a moment, and Miss Whitherspoon would tap her strap on her table, and all twelve of the Secigirls would stand and go, "Good Morning, Mr. Brinson, Sir," and he would nod, and go into his office, and then you couldn't see him anymore, because the main office was behind a second wooden sliding door.
Occasionally though, during the working day, he'd walk through the long-room, where the girl's sat in rows, getting all of them totally freaked, batting their lashes, and shifting their butts, and lifting their tits trying to catch his eye. But usually, he'd do a round, and go back to his office, or stride to the elevators, as he had done today. And nearly each time, they'd be some girl in it, coming up or going down. Kathy thought of Deanna who'd just been there, all dolled up and slutty in elevator, rubbing her tits on Mr. Brinson, and seethed. She just hated any girl who tried that with him. Sigh.
Kathy took a sip of water, tried to clear her mind, and refocused on her typing. White out wasn't an office supply anymore; if you made a typo, you typed the whole oinonskin again. Orginals needed to be smooth and stackable, ready to be sorted into the slimest of files, now that they didn't have computers (what ever those were) any more. And you got slapped&strapped: a two quick, tight slaps across your face, when you lifted your hair and waited for it, and then three sharp, stinging shots on your backside, with the soft, oiled leather strap - bent over, spandex skirt rolled up high, thong split ass up - from Miss Witherspoon, the office manager — OM-- for wasting time and paper, if you did make a typo.
Kathi was one of 12 Secigirls on 5th; Mr. Brinson's floor of Rayper & Phalson Fund Management. There were 8 floors in the building, each floor was a division. She knew that but not a lot more; except that Mr. Brinson was the only executive up here, and he was a Senior VP. SVP Fixed Income Investments; real important and busy, he had his own Personal Assistant girl of course. Kathi and the others were just Secretaries or Secigirls -- typing, filing and running errands for Lauren, the SVP's PA girl, under the supervisory thumb of Miss Whitherspoon.
Kathi stopped typing for a moment; pausing over a word. There were lots of big words in the report she didn't quite know, so she had to keep looking in the dictionary for the spelling of each one. Every time she flipped through the big book, she took a sip of water from the paper cup on her desk, almost automatically; all the secretaries, were required to fill their cups from a HiFem water cooler each hour. When her roomie Cindy and she had heard of this rule, it had seemed really silly; but now Kathy didn't quite know what it was, but she was totally parched for the water all the time! Usually, Kathy and the other Secigirls felt their thirst build, after Miss Whitherspoon made sure they all sucked their Hornical-SG 20mg lozenge, first thing in the morning. The Hornical soo sweet (it was even better than the Hormoteen pill that they had to take in high school), Kathi loved pouting her lips and sucking on it, but fifteen minutes later, her throat was totally dry, tongue almost hanging out, and she was panting softly like a bitch-in-heat. All the girls would wait out the first hour like that, just trying to lick their lips wet, keeping focused on their typing or filing. Then the electronic buzzers on their desks would go 'slurp time!' and the girls would all scamper to the HiFem cooler together, tottering in their heels, 12 asses swaying together in their regulation butt hugging black spandex mini-skirts.
Kathi always felt much better about herself after that first long gulp of water; her breasts swelled up tight in her demi-shelf bra, her nipple stiffening, and her whole mound throbbed down-there. That was nice, she felt a little slutty it was so strong, but she loved that ache, and now waited for it. But that feeling never lasted long. Just after the liquid trickled down her throat, she would begin to feel insecure and anxious, tense and high strung, and her calves would quiver in her 4inch high heels, and her ankles would wobble, and she would wonder if she was getting fat.
After that first long drink of water on the hour, all the girls had to 'slutup, ' at the long mirror by the cooler. That was the rule. There weren't mirrors in the girls pissrooms any more; there was 3 minutes after 'slurp time' for the girls to primp with the common tubes of EyeCandy lip-gloss, pencil liner and rouge pads, kept on the shelf by the mirror. Miss Witherspoon had said it had all been called "makeup" once, but that was like way back when, when the hag had been young, obviously! Giggle! "Slutup," was what Kathi knew, from the huge EyeCandy cosmetics campaign, "Slutup the Slut in you!" and the one they had now, "Slut! You need to Slu'Up!" And slutup, it they did. But there was always a lot of hissing and bitching as the girls preened, since there was so little room in front of the mirror, and you had to wait. The Secigirls would look at each other's asses and tits, and snicker, whispering catty comments to each other as girls in front re-did their lips, eyes and cheeks.
You felt Miss. Whitherspoon's sharp eye on you while you waited, all the girls did, it was as if she enjoyed watching the girls jossling with each other to slutup, but some times, she would give a girl quick stinging shot in her butt with her leather strap and say, 'don't be such a pushy bitch, ' with a sneer. Kathi didn't like that really, but that was pretty much the way it went on any SVP's floor, the office managers were was strict, even stricter than high school mistresses, but a Secigirl gig at Rayper & Phalson was such a good job: it paid $4.75 an hour before tax, and you got a whole 25 cent raise if you worked at it, and got a positive evaluation at the end of the quarter. And it was safe, clean and came with Femclean medical benefits. With the huge girl-unemployment, and what they called the 'bimbo-bulge' on the TV news, she had been really scared she'd not get it, or this or any office job, and have start stripping at a neighborhood Thong & Heels or Pussipoles for dollar tips; they only paid $1.75 an hour basic and no medical at all. Or worse start hooking on a street corner for some ugly, rough Black pimp, like some white girls she knew from high school were doing already, hair bottle bleached and teased, tongues studded and noses ringed, bellies tattooed with their pimps name, wearing in just those pussiprinter hot pants, that were so tight on the crotch, they dug into your slit, and brightly colored plastic thigh-high boots, sucking for $5 and getting fucked for $10 and getting God knows what kind of puss-itch and stuff from their Johns.
Kathi shuddered, really glad it wasn't her. She was better than that, she had always known that — she was a kinda pretty, heavy cupped white girl, who had stuck it through high school, and she deserved more. Kathi resented admitting it, but she had been clueless about getting an office job, at a place like Rayper & Phalson. It was Cindy who'd known how to get an gig like this. She had a whole set of back issue of this hot rag called Personal Assistant Magazine, which they said in the old days actually had a 'web site' and all — what ever that was; Cindy said it had been something inside computers-- called 'www.pamagazine.net.' That magazine told you what offices were looking for. Cindy's mags were pretty worn and dog eared, Kathy was sure she had been fingering her pussy while reading them all through high school; its not like she was getting dates and getting done, so she must have been. Giggle! So sure, okay, Cindy knew what the 'corporates' wanted. So Kathy listened to her, and Cindy had got them both dolled up just right, not the street walker white-ho look, just a notch above that, and with their typed up resumes, and thong'n'heels glam shots clipped on, they had both made the first cut, with Amy Sue, the HR SVP's PA girl who'd look it over. Then before she knew it, she was on her knees in Mr. Nash's office, on 4th, the HR SVP himself, down by his cock, while Amy Sue watched, and made notes. Kathi had licked his balls quickly, first, before deep throating him, thinking other girls might not have stopped to do that. It was that, or some thing — she really didn't know, but it had been okay. God she had really sucked, knowing fifty or so hotties had made the first cut, and were totally sluttedup and dolled out, milling around in the lobby. Mr. Nash hadn't given her much time, hadn't even bothered to cum in her, of course, but he had cupped her heavy tits while she was sucking, pinched and pulled on her nipples. She opened wider, when he did that, going 'O'ma'god' in her head, taking his thickness deeper, and he pulled out, saying "good girl." Only seven girls, including Cindy and she, had been hired.
Both of them had been straight out of high school, with no Executive Entertainment Certificate (an EEC was a six week, $1000 course), or TeenSeci badge, you got if you interned at an office, while in high school. Some girls whose mothers were PA girls had managed to intern summers for a badge, but not Kathi, her mother was just part of a Floorwipe girlcrew, they scrubbed and mopped at different places all over town; she was the only white girl working on it, with bunch of fat, old, forty-something, Mexican sows.
Her mother had always wanted her to do better than that; and she was going to. She knew she would really have to work hard to keep this job too; just the week she had been hired, Amy Sue, who'd watched and taken notes at her job interview had been fired for getting fat. The porky-pie had been keeping to her hiring weight apparently, so her boss hadn't noticed, but then one day, he'd wanted to butt-fuck her, after a real long while apparently. When Amy Sue had stripped, bent over, spread wide and lifted her ass high for him in his office, he had seen the cellulite on her upper thighs and just said, 'your done here!' Of course, he had made her spend the rest of her last day bringing in Topfloor Secigirls to try out as her replacement. But then he had settled for a 4th floor girl, one of his own, this 27 year old tight bod Melissa, who every one said definitely had had the hots for him for awhile. Then he got Amy Sue to explain every thing he liked carefully to his new girl, before having Miss Cottage-Cheese-thighs clear out her desk and leave, with her $20 of severance pay.
It was a story that Kathi actually liked, because it showed that at least there was a chance of clawing up, here, at Rayper. If you watched your ass, and didn't let it lard out! Giggle! Kathi knew she was going to really work her butt off; but all the rules! It was worse than high school; they were such a pain! She sighed, pouting, remembering the first one: being told that her dirty blonde locks would have to be dyed brunet, and trimmed not longer than to six inches below her shoulders. Miss Witherspoon had laughed at her whining. 'Only Topfloor Secigirls, Temp PA girls, and PA girls are allowed to go blonde, my dear, and that's a salon styled, platinum dyed blonde. Office girls, and Secigirls aren't. But you can cut, and shape it within the allowed length, and blow dry it straight; lots of girls do that. Okay?" Then tapping her leather strap on her palm, she reeled off, like she was reading it out, what was to be Kathi's kit.
"For you, its Girltight triple-dart - that's front, back and sides--Oxford shirts, two ply, double stitch, button down, soft cotton, no starch; plain white demi-shelf bras from Girltight since you are a D cup - As go braless, Bs underwire with a full cup bra (lots of B-cups prefer to go braless but they have to get permission), and Cs bra in pushup half-cups- and no girl pads, ever, and yes, Topfloor Secigirls who've faked up to a full D or DD, are allowed braless if they are firm, and have a pencil-test note from HR, so don't you whine about that to me. And PA girl follow their SVP's preferences, don't you ever imagine you are up there, ever, okay? Alright, here is the rest of it: 11 inch black spandex skirt, pull-up, no side zippers, again from Girltight or Gapgirl; crimson-neon thong, cotton-spandex from EyeCandy, crimson is the floor color, its different on different floor - don't get confused about that, and it's a thong, not a G-string, not a V-string not a tanga — again, it can be different on different floors, and don't even ever think about some slutty scarlet-lace wisp with out permission now — but looking at you, I can see you'd want to." Miss Whitherspoon galnced at her with faint disgust, and went on, "4 inch ankle-strap sandals, plastic or pleather from GirlTight is good, some thing simple from ButtUp is also fine, its not like you can even think to afford leather, black, but you can choose the strap pattern — not those clear plastic platforms from Hookers ever, Mr. Brinson hates them, and of course..." she took breath, obviously relishing the last part: "Your Pussibelt, nice and snug — go get it fitted today at Girltight- underneath your thong at all times," and she sniggered out long and loud, finishing with a hiss.
That had shocked Kathi. She'd only heard of that vaguely in high school and never really understood it. "A pussibelt?" Cindy, who was, of course, like this 'know-it-all' on all the office stuff, didn't know either what a pussibelt really was, so they had been both a bit freaked when they took their Pussibelt vouchers, Miss Witherspoon had given them, right away, that afternoon itself to Girltight, the giant office girl apparel place, right across from Gapgirl downtown. After they'd gotten their shirts and skirts, and her new demi-shelf bras —- Ohh they were expensive! But her tits lifted up so hot and high in 'em!! -- Cindy had gone up nervously to the counter and shown the pussibelt voucher to one of the salesgirls, Latoya. She had been really nice about it, and smiled and taken them back to a change room, and measured them both down-there, and between their thighs, in detail, quickly but carefully, with a set of steel rulers and calipers, and brought in a few belts. They were some kind of Teflon like mesh, with a narrow thong-panty triangle shaped mesh over the crotch, quite airy really.
"You just spray it when you shower and it dries out clean, super quick, Missy," the salesgirl said, smiling very respectfully.
The crotch triangle mesh was like a rolled spring, it pulled out, and clipped on the phlexichain that went tight in the butt crack, behind, but when the lock, just between your thighs was popped, the mesh triangle rolled right back up, all the way, coiling into the low riding, thicker, phlexichain hipbelt. Latoya knelt behind Kathi, and fussed with the buttchain quite a bit, making it really tight, putting some links back into the hipbelt or some-thing, then widening Kathi's butt-cheeks very carefully, saying, "lift your butt high, Missy, please? -and pulling the chain tight again. "Okay now Missy, that's going to cut a tiny bit, till you get used to it," the salesgirl said, then even she blushed a little, (Cindy and Kathi had been flaming from the start) and went: "it got be real real tight, right, Missy, they don't want your... your... boyfriends or anyone who be shouldn't be, pulling it aside now," and looked up very shyly.
Kathi and Cindy both giggled, nodding, even though the both of them didn't have boyfriends. Then the girl moved to work on Cindy's belt, and Kathi got a good look at her. Latoya, kind of filled out her tight Calico patterned shift, it seemed really tight on her ass; she wasn't a babe or any thing, but okay cute for a mulatto, well she was bit of a darky, and her nose was wide, but she did have a sweet manner.
Hands on Cindy's belt, Latoya said, as if she just remembered again, in a matter of fact way, "mine dump me right when I be belted here, Missies"
Kathi exclaimed. "Oh wow! Just liked that?" nodding sympathetically.
Latoya looked down for a moment, as if thinking about it, then looked up -- she was on her knees behind Cindy, pulling her butt cheeks apart and pushing them up gently, saying "lift up a bit, please Missy?' and when Cindy did she began to tightening the links -- and then said, "Yes Missy, my younger sister Kaesha gone told Abdul I be belted here, and he say to her, okay, 'I be doing you now bitch, ' and he dumped me. He got her knocked up already, now." Then she sighed.
Cindy laughed quite hard, her phlexichain cleft butt shaking, and said 'that's so typical isn't?' in a snotty voice,.
Latoya nodded quickly, snickered softly, and said, "yes yes yes Missy, you be so right, it sure is. I did get big and drop one last year, already, Missy."
Cindy sniggered. "Whoes git was it? That boy who dumped you?"
Latoya blushed darker brown, and her lashes flickered. "No, Missy, I think it was Jamal, one of the pimps, I not sure, I be gang raped."
"Oh," said Cindy, quietening down.
"So is one of the White Mastas here doing you now, then?" Kathi asked just to be friendly, and change the subject.
"No Missy, I not be done at all yet, here. Mastah Richard — he be our manger- he be doing Latisha right now. He says to me, 'loose 10 pounds off your big black ass girl, ' and then, he say 'maybe, ' he would give me a go month after next." Latoya lowered her eyes, ran her palms tight over her ass as she spoke, as if she could feel her fatness.
Cindy was like "Aww..." but they both could see how she really, really needed to squeeze the fat off her butt, which was kinda big even for a colored girl who'd dropped a git, so they nodded and Cindy said, 'you keep at it, girl, ' and Kathi went, 'you go girl!'
"Thank you so Missies." Latoya said, and then snapped their belt locks closed, and looked up, enquiringly.
"Oh its tight!" Kathi yelped, 'cos it was.
"Yes Missy, it like a new leather shoe, they say, Missy, if you've ever had those, I've never, but it going be stretch and mold to you down there, believe me!" And Latoya looked so understandingly and smiled, still kneeling, her own fingers going to her crotch under her very short calico shift, and then nodded and nodded.
But its when they turned to look in the mirror, Kathi parting her thighs a little to feel the fit, stroking her ass cheek with her hands back, that she really got the other part, the part you couldn't really see, the little pleather tongue piece, inside the crotch.
Cindy went, "Oh its! Ohh!!" like a real ditz.
Kathi, though, managed to just ask, very softly, cheek brick red, "its got a..." and she moved her thumb down, half pointing and pressing, right where her clit was, but it was now under the mesh, and the pleather tongue, under that.
Latoya nodded, she was blushing dark brown again, a her smile was sweet and shy, even through her thick, parted lips. Her was breath quck. "Yes, that's special in our model. That's why all the big office orders come here, they say. It's a health and safety thing Missy, the pleather nubhood keeps the mesh from scratching and cutting you down there, you know, right there, where you're very sensitive?" Then she smiled up again, still on her knees, and her ass moved in a tiny grind on her heels. Then she was off, saying, "please ring the bell if you have any questions or anything Missies."
After that they'd giggled over the belt and the tongue-piece, with Cindy saying, "well its good she is belted, or else that filly would have dropped a whole litter pretty soon!" and they had both laughed at that, because they had been on Hormoteen right from high school, but they knew colored girls never knew to take theirs each day, and always got knocked up really young. Then they dressed up in the new stuff again in the change-room, checking the fit of the fresh, crisp white shirts, giggling over how many buttons to keep undone, with Kathi really enjoying showing off her new D cup demi-shelf to Cindy, who didn't have bras on her shopping list, since she was an A.
It was only later, on the way out, that Cindy had remembered to ask for the keys to the belts at the counter. Latoya had gone off shift by then, but the other girl Latisha, okay she was cuter, much slimmer, a pert breasted B cup, who was obviously enjoyed being braless, she was nice and stiffnipped high yeller may be even an octoroon —Kathi could definitely see why the manager would prefer her to Latoya- checked and said 'Oh yes, Missy its stamped and ticked off, we'll send the two sets of three keys to Rayper.' And that was that; they never ever got the keys to their belts, and Kathi could not, for the life of her, figure out how she would date any more. But there it was.
Miss Whitherspoon's tinkled her full large key-ring when she said, casually, the next morning, which was Kathi's first full day: "Well, good, my dear, you've got the dress code right. Now read the HR book. Take notes; and know it inside out. It is your bible here. But its going to take awhile for a girl like you to 'get' all the rules and policies obviously, so here are my Secigirl bimbi-lights.
Miss Witherspoon cackled at her joke, making Kathi wonder if bimbi-lights were like hi-lights for Secigirls.
Then Miss Witherspoon went on, not explaining that: "Now that you are belted, keep track of your period cycle — I'll get it from medical next week also, but you count it out as well. When you feel like you are PMSing, and I've never known a Secigirl who didn't PMS hard, get the bellypatch from me, or from Miss Reinhardt when you are done exercising, at 5:30. There is a diagram in the HR book, look over it carefully; it tells you where exactly your belly-patch goes. And the side that says, 'BitchQuell' faces out; I've actually had girls try to paste it the other way, come up to me, with their paws lifted, going, 'oh Miss Whitherspoon, it keeps falling down my to pussy.' She laughed, spiting out the 'pussy.' And don't expect your BitchQuell bellypatch to fix cramps, or back ache or swollen breasts. That's normal, and we don't want girls getting addicted to painkillers and the like; so none are allowed. You can loose your Femclean medical, if you take Bloatease, and if any one cats you out. Your bellypatch is expensive, and it is not for that kind of pampering; it is help you adjust your attitude, and watch yourself at work. It helps you bite back any bitchiness, that may bubble up towards any of the executives, (or me and Lauren) when you are PMSing.
"You are here to do what you are told; if you really don't get some thing, and that will happen a lot, I'm sure, you can ask, very respectfully, for it to be explained again to you, — but there will be no back-talk or mouthyness. You may get bitchedup, but never let that affect your attitude towards your superviousers here. Now, it does take a few cycles for your bellypatch to really take effect, so watch it at first. Talk to the older girls about that."
She paused and took a deep breath. "Okay, next item. Put a tampon in the day the before your period is due, that's why you have to keep track, you have to use the ones from the DownThere! Dispensers in the shower stall area, they're a specially Hornical infused ones of from FreshRag, it's the only brand your Femclean medical allows. Wear the button, when you are on the rag, for heaven's sake." She tossed Kathi a large white and red button; "I'll not hesitate to slap&strap you right away, right way, if I catch you without it when it should be pinned on your shirt." She took a breath and asked, "Clear so far?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Kathi nodded.
"Your FSRB is once a week, but you don't get your first for a month, so you'll be nice and primed for your first one." Miss Whitherspoon's eyes dropped down to Kathi's skirt.
"You'll hear your buzzer when you're up. Again, read the HR book on that, there is a whole section. Don't dawdle, quiver and act virginal when the buzzer does go off, because its your own time your wasting. So when the buzzer goes off, run up to my desk, take the dildo (its in a zipper pouch), and run to the Topfloor, get Miss Sheridan up there to pop your belt, she has a copy of your key, and trot off to the FSRB booth, and do your thing. Its 30 minutes total, for the whole thing, waiting and all, do not go over time, and come whining to me saying you didn't get off, or you did it longer because you were on the edge when time was up. It just too bad if the earth doesn't move, and you don't feel like you are walking on air after your FSRB. It isn't your honeymoon. Come right back, right back, when your time is up; because for every three minutes you go over, you get one round of s&s, (that's two face-slaps and three straps on the butt) plus you get docked an hours pay. Okay, any questions?"
Kathi blushed a bright red at all that, not ever wanting to ask Miss Whitherspoon a question about her FSRB, and just nodded, "No Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am."
But Kathi didn't really get FSRBs at first. Okay, first off, she understood what it was — and girl, it made her totally self-conscious. And she knew when her FSRB was going to be; it was when her electronic desk buzzer went off, with that gross sound bite. But even after she read the whole fat, long Rayper & Phalson Human Resource Policies (Girls) & Terms of Contract book that Miss Witherspoon had given Cindy and her when they were hired, (which everyone just called the HR book) she didn't quite get it. Okay, FSRB stood for Feminine Stress Relief Break — that was easy. They were part of the feminine health & productivity initiative that Rayper and most corporates in the FORTUNE 1000 had adopted, it said in the book. Kathi understood the main points in the general discussion section before the FSRB section, because they had learnt a lot of it in school. For example girls were emotionally unstable, had big mood swings, were given to bitch-fits, and also crying jags. Often they were light headed and couldn't decide on thing, some times got fully ditzed out, got giggly from time to time. All this was so obvious, all the girls were blushing with embarrassment, and nodding and nodding went they went over that all the time in school. The whole thing was basically called FSI-ADD and it made girls really very unproductive; they had learnt that in Sociobiology class and also in Gender Studies class but she never could remember what the letters stood for — so she was glad it said in the Rayper HR book, that the letter were for 'Feminine Stress Induced Attention Deficit Disorder.' Like wow that was a mouthful. Apart from that, of course, girls were both close and sisterly, and then quite catty and competitive with each other, alternating, they learnt. Kathi knew this was also totally true, girl were kissing and hugging one minute, hissing and lashing out the next, trying to put each other down, then getting moist eyed and even sobbing at the end. This was a normal and natural cycle they had learnt, girls were like that, they had found in Science and all, as long as you didn't get totally bitched up, and cop an attitude towards guys, or a lady, if she was above you.
The big problem at the bottom of it all of course, was the rollercoaster hormone cycle of a girl's period. At school, the teachers would just slap&strap a girl for backtalk or any bitchiness; they did at Rayper & Phalson also, no surprise there, but at Rayper also had lots and lots of stuff, so you could handle your FSI-ADD better. Kathi had felt so relieved in fact, when it came to that part of the HR book, because she was feeling so worthless, and thinking, 'O'm'God, they are so right, I'm too ditzy even to have a fancy office job!'
That was one reason for Pussibelting, since they had found that unregulated emotional or sexual relationships outside the work place, were really really hard for girls to handle, if they were to get to work on time, and do their filing and typing right. Kathi had to ruefully agree that was true; if she had been allowed to run around unbelted, go out every evening, get picked up, and get banged, as she knew she would, in dark car parks or alleys, much less be allowed a sleep-over at her date's place, she was never going to make work on time.
Then there was all the other stuff for FSI-ADD: the daily Hornical-SG 20mg regulated a girl's hormone balance (it also kept you from getting knocked up, just like the Hormoteen pill they gave you in high school did), together with the BitchQuell stick-on belly patch you got when you were PMSing—that went low on your belly, right above your pussibelt. Of course when you were on your period, you got your stuff from DownThere! dispenser in the basement gym locker room, after showering, when slim&shape hour was over. Every day you were on period, got a new light-pink FreshRag tampon when you put a $5 into the dispenser, (which was also Hornical infused to regulate your flow) and you inserted it carefully just after you showered, and got checked when they snapped your belt back.
Kathi had also learnt in high school, that girls also had lots of feminine hygiene and cleanliness problems, down-there, and it said so as well in the Rayper & Phalson book, that a Feminine Hygiene Regime, FHR, was very important, and you had to watch for various yeasts infections, fungus stuff, and of course Puss-itch of different kinds. Guys who'd had the general STD vaccine, didn't get any of these thing — and they couldn't give it to a girl, because they were totally clean, and they couldn't get it, even if they banged you and you had it. Wow. (Once there been a STD called AIDS it said, but that had been vaccinated out for both guys and girls as well.) But not all guys had had the general STD vaccine, it said lots of unemployed, poor and criminally inclined, and non-caucasian men were not vaccinated, and a girl could get puss-itch if she got raped, or had 'unauthorized sexual relations' with a guy who was not. Wow, yucky! But all executive staff at Rayper and corporates in the FORTUNE 1000 had been vaccinated it said, as part of general HEW/USHA rules. But there was not a vaccine for girl STDs like puss-itch, and yeast and stuff. It was a gender thing and the guy vaccine didn't work for girls, obviously. There was a course of pills girls could take, once they were sure you had it, and which kind of itch it was, and it got cured, if you took the pills. But the treatment was expensive it said in the book; you had get your Femclean Medicard ticked by your OM, and then actually go to a Femclean clinic downtown, sign-up for an appointment, get checked by a nurse, bring the card back to your OM, then get go to HR again, and go to the clinic again, to get that prescribed and all. This was the other big reason for Pussibelting then, so that if even if you got caught some where bad and dangerous after curfew or some thing, you couldn't get raped by some street-thug and get puss-itch and all. Both Cindy and she nodded at that, and went, 'yeah, that is so true, huh!', when they read it.
So that was good. But still to keep to their FHR, all the girls were required to douche once a day, fully, with the special, thick headed CumClean nozzle in the shower stalls. It was also very important keep your pussypatch trimmed, there were different rules for different grades of girls it said, for Secigirls it was a landing-strip, very neat at the edges, but it should be quite thick and furry, just above the slit, and about 2 inches wide, (max) at the top --like it showed in the diagram in the book—because that was best with the belt they were in, it said. You shaved and trimmed your furstrip just before you showered, after the evening work out. You could get a Cunnyneat disposable razor from the DownThere! Dispenser for $2. That was the basic stuff for Feminine Hygiene; and Kathi was used all that now, shape&slim hour was from 4 — 5.30, and after the workout, all the girls stripped and showered, and Miss Reinhardt and her assistant trainers walked by open shower stalls, with their leather straps, checking if you were trimming and douching, properly. After that, when you were nice, fresh and dry, Miss Reinhart, or one of her girls just checked that you had snapped your belt lock back, you got on the scales, they wrote down your weight, telling you if you were too close to your hiring weight + 5 pounds which was the upper limit, or if you were okay, and you were done.
But she still didn't quite get FSRBs. FSRBs, were to help prevent CMS it said; there was a lot about CMS, right after the section on the PMS belly patch and tampon insertion, but it wasn't clear to her. It said also that CMS, was yet another important reason for Pussibelting, but she didn't quite get that also, because she could never find the place, where they said what CMS was and what the letters stood for!
Lana, though, who had been working for nearly an year at Rayper & Phalson, and some where else before, seemed to understand it all though, and was really snotty about it when Kathi got the nerve to bring it up, right after she had been hired, Wednesday of her second week, when Cindy, Lana and she were doing their butt-shapers, in their crimson-neon Eye-candy leotards during slim&shape hour. The bodysuits were all so pretty, a thin, soft cotton, one sizes fits all, in the panty color they had for your floor: crimson for 5th and baby-blue of 3rd, orange for 6th and all.
Kathi had simply asked, so what's "CMS?" and that had been enough to set Cindy off into a fit of giggles. Kathi pursed her lips, pubis lifting, butt cheeks clenching, focusing on doing her workout, really wanting to slap the bitch.
Then Lana said, "Look Kathi, like way back then, Secigirls kept rushing off to the ladies-room, we still had those back then (can-you-believe-it) and fingering themselves." Lana giggled, as if remembering, kneeling up, adjusting her leotard in her butt-crack, and widening out the crotch strip, setting it her mound again. "I was actually Exec. PA to the HR SVP over at Merrill, and I remember Mr. Macarthur was so upset, when the consultants did the time study and figured out how many girl-minutes were being lost every day, just to Secigirl didling!"
Cindy nodded, as if she had understood, and had for ever, turning on her belly, lifting her ass high, thighs widening, and lowering, alternating her thighs-burners with the butt-shapers.
"They were... what?" Kathi was getting red again, redder than when she asked her question, the embarrassment of actually getting what Lana had said sinking in, making her tongue-tied. It was one thing to date, like she had in high school, give head, and get banged doggie and all, and giggle with your girlfriends about it later, but pussy-fingering wasn't anything that had ever come up, in girl talk. Of course she did it a bit, and liked it, but it wasn't any where near as nice as getting a hard hot bang, so its not like she waited up nights to diddle herself, when she was in school. She did know her mother, Sally, did though, for hours on end, laying on the little put-down couch seat in the trailer, watching the GWW wrestling on StudTV, after she came back exhausted from her last Floorwipes shift. Sally never admitted to it of course, she always thought Kathi was asleep by then, and she kept her over-alls on also, as a precaution maybe, to hide her busy hands between her thighs, but Kathi often saw her hips humping from bunk-bed above the TV, jerking her dark-brown overalls with the bright yellow letters, front and back: 'I'm your Floorwipe girl: Happy on my hands and knees.' Her mother was way old, like over 40, and fat — its not like she was getting dates — so she did it, Kathi guessed, but pussy-fingering was not ever some thing they had ever even discussed. It was like going to the pissroom, or being on the rag, you didn't giggle on about that. It was private, and a little dirty.
Lana had also said it like it was a dirty thing. A dirty girl thing, like having to douche, use FreshRag tampons four days a month, and worry about yeast. The thought soaked into her as she did the last of her butt-shapers, a small whimper accompanying the long pelvic thrust, her butt cheeks clenching hard, before she turned over, ass high, to do her thigh-burners. At least, they had their belts popped during the mandatory gym time, so the phlexichain didn't cut her butt crack for the hour and a half. That would have been killing. Not having the belt on did stop the mesh crotch piece of the belt massaging her pussy, so Kathi throbbed a little less, but she still dripped into the soft cotton crotch of her Girltight bodysuit. Anyway, she was pretty wet always at the beginning of the hour, and the leotard like bodysuit was pretty thin, so it did get moist at her pussy right away when she put it on, making her furstrip show through, of course. It was just here though, most of the girls were moist down there when they started, but it was only embarrassing right at the beginning. If you worked hard at your thigh burners right away, then you sweated really quickly, and whole body suit got really soaked, and stuck to your body -- tits, belly and ass -- sweat dripping down all over you, so couldn't tell if you had been really wet to begin with.
All the girl had to keep their heels on for shape&slim, but you had to be barless under the bodysuit, so your bust did bounce a bit if you were heavy on top, and you had keep pulling the crotch part out of your slit and butt-crack. But you got used to that. They were all very conscious of Miss Reinhart, click-clocking around the wide gym room in her 3inches, snapping the leather strap she carried, but it was considered okay for girls gossip and giggle softly during slim&shape time, as long as they did all the exercises. Some times, if you over did the talking, you got a sharp strap on your backside, and then you yelped, and shutup for awhile. Really, though, wasn't so bad to lay down on a mat, and do the butt-shapers, thigh-burners, thighs-flexer, bust-firmers and belly-flatteners you had to do every day. It was 40 of each; it was for your own good, wasn't it? All the Secigirls had to from 4:00-5:30 each day; Kathi thought it was great this was really organized at Rayper, she didn't wanted lard out like that sow Amy Sue, and get fired.
She loved shape&slim time, but what had really freaked her out at first was all the important Execs, nude, walking casually on the raised walk-way that bisected the exercise room, going from the saunas and steam room area at the far end of the room, to the Excetive Thai-massage area, which was beyond the open shower stalls for the girls.
It was a unisex Gym, so that was the way it was. No public nudity or sex was allowed in regular work areas, it said in the HR book, (the gym didn't count as a work area of course) — that was the only USHA/DOJ rule about sex there was, now that sexual harassment laws and stuff, what ever that was — giggle! - was history. It was allowed, but it freaked her out. Sometimes the excetive would have a towel around his waist, but often they didn't bother, they'd just drap the towel over their shoulders, and stroll along, cock and balls swaying lazily. Sometimes, if you were real lucky, they might actually look at you, and Kathy had sensed that all the excersising Secigirls, quite naturally, were really eager to be noticed, and there would a crackle of electricity in the room, if a excettive were to walk by. Right now, as she looked up, back arched, butt high, she could see two men, one dark haired, with a sprinkling of gray on his chest, the other younger, and taller walking slowly towards her. Eyes on them, butt-lifting and lowering, she tried to get back to what Lana had been saying. "So like girls weren't belted then?" She asked.
Lana just laughed softly at her. "Of course not. That the whole point; Pussibelting and FSRBs go together. They are two sides of the same coin, silly!"
"So what's CMS, then?" She lifted her head, bucking her ass, hair flying, loosing track of her butt-shapers. The men were coming closer; Lana and Cindy had stopped, they were sitting up, watching. Kathi could sense their excitement.
"Constant Masturbating Sickness" Cindy said softly, with another giggle and then looked at Lana, asking, "Right?"
"Almost. Chronic Masturbation Syndrome." Lana ran a finger slowly down Cindy's spine, making her back arch. "See, its like PMS, right?"
Cindy giggled, "Kathi isn't sure what that stands for either, are you sweetie?"
"Oh shutup!" Kathi exclaimed, thighs wide, back arched, still on her hands and knees, her pussy dripping quietly, as she watched the nude men approach, "of course I do."
"No you don't!" Cindy went on. "Tell Lana if you do, then, Miss Smarty-thong."
"Its... Period... something-with-Em... Stress" Kathi stuttered out finally.
"No. Its when your cow udders get all swollen and sensitive, right Kathi-girl? That's how you know your PMSing, right?" Cindy was in a fit of giggles. "Like when you used come back from one those 'dates' in high school, and couldn't wear your bra the next day, your tits were mushy from being mauled?"
Kathi stopped her thigh-burners for a moment, kneeling, fighting to get her breath back, face red. She felt so stupid and worthless. Her butt cheeks were still clenching and uncletching, helplessly, her anus was throbing and her slit was burning. Yes, she remembered coming to school barless, and achy tited after dates. No, she couldn't remember what the letters PMS stood for. Shaking her head, Kathy lifted her hands to her breasts, when she realized her left tit had popped out through the large arm hole, and even her stiff nipple was out. Eyes down, on her knees, with her thighs wide, she adjusted, trying to fit her tits back in, struggling to get her breath back, feeling totally like the cow Cindy said she was.
The two men who had been walking through the room, stopped in the middle of the walk way, discussing some point, animated, but not loud, audible but indistinct. All the round the room, the sixty or so excising Secigirls, in different colored Girltight bodysuits, were noticing and sitting up, or watching frozen in mid motion, lips parted, wide eyes on the two authoritative men, standing as they debated. Through the corner of her eyes Kathi could see Lana's hand go to Cindy's wrist, clutching, her pert B cups pressing to the back of Cindy's shoulder, rubbing, whispering in her ear, almost licking, saying, some thing like '... yes, and Mr. Rudolph, from 3rd, ' from Lana's lips, and then Cindy replying, 'Oh God... okay, ' and then almost on cue Cindy thrust out her stiffnipped tinytits, as did Lana, pressed close to Cindy.
It was the older of the two men that held Kathi attention, he looked so familiar. In his mid-forties, he was well built and heavy-set, but not flabby, with a hook nose and narrow brown eyes, the mat of grayish hair was light on his barrel chest and flat belly, denser at the base of his wide, long cock. He was jabbing his index finger at the other man, making his point. Suddenly Kathi recognized him with a shock. He was her SVP himself, Mr. Brinson. Oh wow, she had hardly realized, since he was nude. She smoothened her hair back with booths hands, unthinkingly arching her back and tightening her gut, right hand resting on her inner thigh, eyes going down again to his cock; it was soft and relaxed, thick as it rested on his spreading, heavy testicles, and suddenly, she felt this desperate, uncontrollable need to rub her gushing pussy, and she pressed her sharp red-nails hard into her thigh, to stop herself.
The male conversation ended with a joke, and then with a loud guffaw, and the men walked slowly, still chucking to the showers. Two 3rd floor girls, had been watching, mesmerized, on their hands and knees, lifted butts frozen in mid-motion, split with the baby-blue thong strip of their leotards, sighed softly, releasing held in breath. Cindy sniggered at them and looked at Kathi. "You're wet!" she giggled, "you slut!"
"Oh yeah, she'd got her thighs real wide too!" Lana joined in, looking at the kneeling Kathi, nudging the girl's inner thigh with her toe.
Kathi flamed and pulled her thighs quickly together. "No I was not... I saw you two arching out your tits..." she spluttered, as they giggled. "Don't be so... shutup!... its sweat..." she stuttered with humiliation.
"That's why a girl like you needs to be belted most of the time, Kathi." Lana said in a condescending, matter of fact way. Because the company doesn't want you running off to finger your pussy every time you see your boss, and start creaming for him." Lana moved her toe, gently on Kathi's leg.
Kathi tossed her head and pull away at that, fuming at the 'a girl like you, thing' that Lana had pulled out. Lana might have been a PA girl once, but now she was a just another belted, FSRBing Secigirl, doing her thigh-burners on her hands and knees. And Lana and Cindy were soaked too, they just acted like they were not. She wanted to just pull Lana's hair and bang her head on some thing, but she held back not wanting Miss Reinhardt to slap&strap her right there in the exercise room. That would be worse. She just let Lana bitch on like the total cunt she was, and she did: "you just wait for your FSRB, like a good little Secigirl, Kathi."
That had been Wednesday of her second week, and today was Friday.
She hated Lana for saying it like she did, but it wa true. After she had seen Mr. Brinson in the Gym, she had been waiting. All yesterday she hadjust panting thinking of her FSRB, which wasn't going to be soon at all, it was going to be in a month; she didn't know exactly when even, just that it would be in her fifth week. Because at Rayper FSRBs weren't really scheduled, at some places they were, Trisha said, but here, HR had said it would be more productive, if girls didn't spend time dawdling, squirming and panting waiting for their FSRB. Kathi had to agree it was a good policy. After her first month, every girl got her turn once a week, she just didn't know when it was going to be, she just focused on her work, until her desk buzzer went off. But today was Friday, and only Lana and Heather hadn't FSRBed yet for the week. So they were waiting for their buzzers. And she knew Lana had almost been humping the air in anticipation, totally hot thonged, she had been really working herself up while slutting up at mirror, when Mr. Brinson had unexpected walked out. Usually, the girls watched him from their desks, but today, just today, the three of them had been right by the mirror, when he had left his office. She had seen him much closer. She closed her eyes, wondering if he had goosed that slut Deanna in the elevator. Probably, since she knew he liked doing that — she had seen him goose Lauren right in front of another SVP.
The elevator door opened, smoothly and quietly. Mr. Brinson stepped out, but another topfloor Secigirl -- she had a luscious dyed blonde mane just like Sandi, falling in thick waves on to her shoulders, but her tits were faked up to a high, thrusting DD -- was holding his tie, stroking it on her rouged cheek. Mr. Brinson was laughing softly, saying, 'yes well perhaps I'll be there a little late, Stace, I do have a dinner to go to.'
The blonde pressed her cheek on his chest, her little blue bolero opening futher, exposing the bearly there, straining satin cups that was her demi-bra. "Please sir, do come, if its even just one dance, it would mean so much to me?"
The elevators door beeped and banged, catching the girl's ass as it trying to close, making her jump and gasp, and then giggle, as she stepped out quickly, one hand pulling down her short, blue lace skirt, at the back.
"Took a bite off that high tail of yours, huh?" Mr Brinson looked down at her, chuckled, hand stroking her ass, as she pressed to his hand. He then patted it, turned and walked back to his office.
Kathi watched him, and then turned her eyes on Stacy, with all the other girls, while she waited, playing with her hair, swishing her full ass, as she fiddled with the hem of her tiny bright blue skirt, waiting for the elevator to stop on 5th again. All he had done was give her a completely normal butt-pat, but Kathi had felt a hot stab of jealousy, right in her pussy, at that. Well actually she had done more. Stacy had been worse that Deanna, she hadn't been flirting, she had been begging for some dance or some thing. Kathy didn't know what that was about, really, but she knew these Topfloor girls acted so familiar with the excetives. Sigh. And of course, regular Secigirl's weren't even allowed to ride the elevators, or she could have totally planned to be near the doors when he was. Secigirls had to used the stairs for everything, even if it was 8 flights, and your buttchain was killing you, or your tummy was cramping up because you were on your period, and your tits were feeling huge and all bloated, because it was part of their exercise requirement for their Femclean Medical.
Just as Stacy got into the elevator, an FSRB buzzer went off on a girl's desk in the long-room. FSRB buzzedr made these really awful sounds, it always did. First a high pitched wolf-whistle, then a loud breathy moan, and then a hard slapping sound and male bark, 'cum bitch!' (HR's idea of a joke! — Miss Witherspoon as had said, smiling thinly).
Kathy was used to it now, and she already sniggered with the other girls went it went off, but today, she was so dreamy for him, and ditzed out, the image of him nude in the gym was flashing in her mind, that she half yelped at the whistle, then blushed at the programmed moan, shifting her butt, still typing with her eyes down, thinking of his hard thick thighs. But when she heard the sharp 'cum bitch!' she had just jumped and got up, saying 'yes sir!', tits jiggling in her demi, she was so bimboed out, she had actually some how imagined Mr. Brinson was right there, standing beside her speaking to her.
All the girls just laughed out a loud, making her flame to the tops of breasts. It did sound really like his voice though. But oh no, he wasn't even in the long room! It was just Lana's FSRB buzz, and she giggled the loudest at Kathy's 'yes sir.' Kathy sat down quickly, eye pricking with quick tears, her mound throbing. The image Mr. Brinson's heavy phallus flashed through her head, as Lana hurried up to Miss Whitersoon to ask for the dildo, and ran off in quick steps upstairs, fake cock clutched tight in her small hands.