Chapter 8

"Ms. Marshal, please come into my office." I had picked up the phone and called Kim after she settled into her desk the next office.

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly, but I could see there was a twinkle of mischief in her eye as she hung up the phone and turned her chair toward me.

She came in with her eyes down and her shoulders slumped. I had her stand next to me, with her tight bottom against the edge of the desk and her back to the rest of the cubicles. Today her simple shift dress was longer that yesterday's skirt, below the knee, and it was paired with white opaque tights, black, shiny mid-heeled Mary Jane shoes.

Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun that together with her glasses made her seem more mature than her years and together with her thick rimmed glasses her look was much more conservative than I knew her to be.

"I see you received Beverly's instructions about how to dress today."

"Yes, sir." She peeked at me under half lidded eyes and bit her lower lip. "Is Beverly still upset with me?"

"We're both rather upset with you, Ms. Marshal, but we have a plan for you to atone for your disrespectful behavior. You took advantage of my wife's trust and my frustration, and you need to learn your lesson, don't you agree?"

A slight smile flickered across her lips before she managed to resume her serious and mournful expression. "Yes, sir. You should punish me severely for my transgressions."

"Good, I'm glad you understand our positions in regard to this matter. We'll start with your method of addressing us. Unless we are in the presence of co-workers, friends or family, you will address me as "master," and Beverly as "mistress." It is not necessary for you to use our names, as we are the only people you will address in this manner. Is that understood?"

"Yes, master." Kim was always a quick study.

"Excellent. This means, of course, that anytime we are out in public among strangers, no matter how embarrassing you may find it, you must use these same forms of address unless we specifically release you from this requirement."

"Yes, master." She was staring at her own shoes, and trembling slightly, it seemed. Perhaps she was imagining just how demeaning this could be. She didn't know the half of it yet.

"Also," I continued, "from this point forward your mistress and I will no longer treat you as a person, but merely as an object for our sexual amusement. We will be addressing you in this way to emphasize and reify your submissive position. More importantly, whenever you are in our presence, including, and perhaps especially, among strangers, you will also refer to yourself as a sexually submissive object, in the third person."

"Yes, master." Her forehead wrinkled in thought. I could see she was wondering how exactly we wanted her to speak about herself.

"Your mistress and I have discussed this extensively, and I have decided to call you 'slut' from now on, and that's how you'll refer to yourself as well." She was definitely breathing harder. Beverly had been right; making her our submissive seemed to excite Kim quite a bit more than when she had been in a dominant position. I swiveled my chair toward her and spread my legs, pulling the fabric of my pants tight against my erection. I grazed the tips of my fingers over the head of my cock, knowing she could see, and asserting my ability to do as I pleased. She pursed her lips as she watched me tease her.

"Let's practice that now, shall we slut? Would you like to suck my cock right now?"

Her voice was unsteady and she stared hungrily at my crotch as she answered, "Yes master, your slut would love to suck master's cock, right now."

"Very good, you're a smart little slut." I reached down between my legs and cupped my balls, all the while careful to maintain an expression on my face that gave no indication of what I was doing with my hand behind the cover of my desk. "Your mistress and master have also decided we will refer to your girl parts as 'cunt, ' 'tits, ' and 'ass.' So slut, are you wet right now?"

"Yes master, your slut's cunt is very wet."

"Is it full of Jimmy's cum again, like the day before yesterday?"

"No, master, your slut broke up with Jimmy last night..."

"Oh, why?"

"Because, master, he wasn't willing to share your slut with my mistress and master. And, your slut was tired of Jimmy anyway."

I felt a brief twinge of guilt that I had somehow played a role in ending my employee's almost year-long relationship, but I remembered that she had talked about it many times before this week's events, so I supposed that it was inevitable.

"We have a lot of work to do today, slut. Today and tomorrow since I've fallen behind on my editing duties over the last few days." I squeezed my hardness as I gazed at Kim's legs, imagining the possibilities for this weekend.

"Go to the ladies room and play with yourself. Fantasize about licking your master's creamy juice from your mistress's freshly fucked pussy. Make yourself cum, count the number of contractions and send her a text with just the number. Then get back to work."

"Yes, master." She licked her lips as her eyes swept over the clearly defined outline of my manhood.

The rest of the day continued in the same way. Whenever she finished a column she would let me know in person, rather than by the usual e-mail. I would provide her with another fantasy topic and send her on her way to the ladies room to rub herself to climax, and she texted my wife each time with the length and strength of her peak.

We finished work late. It wasn't unusual for me to work late at the end of the week, especially on a triple deadline day like this Friday. It also wasn't unusual for one or more of my reporters to stay behind to help me wrap up one of the longer publications. Typically that was Maria, who was really becoming more of a deputy editor, but this time I altered the work assignments so that it was Kim.

When the last of the others had long been gone and as Kim completed her final assignment I called her into my office.

"I have one more task for you, slut. Take off your shoes and put them on my desk, then remove your tights first, and then your panties and put them on top of your shoes. Do it all without lifting your dress above your knees." She quickly removed her shoes, but taking off her panties and tights was a more awkward and complicated matter. I made it more difficult by visibly touching myself and taking pictures with my phone as she complied.

Finally, when she was done, I opened the top drawer of my desk, revealing the dildo I had hidden there earlier in the day. "That's your master's cock, slut. Your mistress sculpted it and now she wants you to fuck yourself with it. Pick it up and hold it. Kiss the tip." If anyone else had been present, if someone from the other publications had stayed late tonight and saw my star reporter raise the artistically crafted facsimile of me to her lips, it would have ended both out careers. It only made it more exciting.