Progressive Discipline

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Our favorite insurance girl has a lesson to learn.
1.9k words
3.83
27.7k
4

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 07/09/2012
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"Okay, hun...thanks for calling!" She clicked the button to disconnect the call. Another satisfied customer, she thought to herself. Her eyes flickered toward the white-and-chrome clock on the office wall, anticipating the next few minutes. She watched the second hand swing across the company logo running across the center of its face. Do I have enough time? She drummed her fingers on the desktop for just a moment, indecisive. After several more seconds of contemplation, at last she pushed back from her desk, standing up from her blue swivel chair. She smoothed down her white apron, checking to make sure it was crisp, straightening her nametag. Taking a deep breath and assuming the million-watt smile for which she was famous (literally), she headed out of her workspace, past the cubicles of her co-workers, waving to some, high-fiving others as she went past. She concentrated on keeping up the façade of the cheerleader and franchise spokesperson everyone knew her to be.

But when she reached the ladies' room door, pushed it open, and slipped inside, the smile fell away. She knew that the Big Boss would be calling for her soon, and she must be ready. She was certain she had met the Big Boss in public, in the office, might have even spoken with him. But she had never seen his face during the sessions that always followed his summons. She had never heard him speak, except in a hoarse, throaty whisper, commanding her. The only other utterances she had ever heard from the man were of a more animal nature -- the groans and sighs of his pleasure as she served him. The simple thought of the things he made her do for him, the power and control over her, which he possessed...

She shivered slightly, clearing her head of the fantasies-come-true invading her thoughts. She had work to do. She checked herself in the mirror, carefully straightening her headband. A tube of ultra-red lipstick appeared from the pocket of her white jeans, and she twisted the bottom, very carefully applying the crimson to her lips as she watched herself in the mirror. Glancing around to ensure that she was completely alone in the restroom, she stepped into a cubicle, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her high-cut white cotton panties. She sighed gently with relief as the cool air from the restroom's air ducts wafted over her bare sex, her panties sliding down over the flare of her hips. She sat down, relieved herself quickly, and flushed. But she felt the heat between her thighs when she cleaned herself - she knew she was aroused, the mere anticipation of the Big Boss's phone call set her off every time.

This had been going on for quite some time, maybe eight months. Sixteen phone calls, sixteen summons. Every other Thursday, promptly at three-twenty, the second line on her cubicle's phone would ring. No one else ever called that line. Not even she knew the actual direct number. But she would hear his whisper, his beckon to serve, and she would obey. The first time she took that stranger's call, she had been working for the company for several years and had been the face of the franchise for most of that time. Never before had she had any trouble at work -- she loved her job, she loved her co-workers, and she loved saving her customers money.

But when she answered the jangling of the phone, glanced down and saw the caller ID was completely blank, and heard the raspy voice on the other end, she froze with fear and concern as he began to speak. She wondered for a brief moment if one of her co-workers was yanking her chain, and then he spoke her name. Short. Harsh. Authoritarian. His tone snapped her attention back to him. He began his orders that first time with where she should go immediately after he disconnected, and what she would find when she did. And his voice was so direct, so full of the threat of punishment should she fail to do as proscribed, she obeyed.

She had placed the phone back on the crate, hands trembling, her heart racing. The implications of this unknown man's words had made her blood run cold. Except in one place. The junction between her thighs felt like molten steel. He had told her things. Secret, filthy, abominable things. The sort of perversities that would have any other employee at this multi-billion dollar insurance company running straight to the Human Resources department. But she was no regular employee. People knew her. People loved her for her sunny disposition, her complete trustworthiness, and for her sardonic humor. Being in her position, she technically didn't have a direct supervisor -- she pretty much did whatever needed to be done, whether it was customer service, media, or just talking to people about how great this company was. And even if she DID have someone to report to, what would she say? That she had just taken a call from someone obviously inside the company, someone very high up based on what he had revealed to her, and someone with security access? Someone who had the capacity to blank out her caller ID and then proceeded to say the most despicably sexual things in her ear, outright daring her to betray the nature of his call?

She had listened to him that first time. She had nodded in the appropriate places, clinging to each word while he basically mind-fucked her over the phone. She had sat stock-still in her chair, every degrading and debased word sinking into her nervous system. As he began to describe to her what she was about to do for him, she had begun to rock gently in her seat, the crotch of her high-waisted cotton panties completely saturated with her excitement and shame. Her nipples had been like small, pale bullets inside her white polo shirt and bra, and she was so excited that she struggled to keep her free hand on the desktop so it wouldn't drift into her lap. When he asked if she understood his directions, and if she was going to comply willingly, all she could squeak out was a meek "Yes, Sir." And she had followed them to the letter. And the pain, the mortification, the embarrassment, and the exquisite pleasure that followed throughout that afternoon and evening had been so gratifying. Despite having not seen his face, despite his brutality, it had been complete bliss.

And now, sitting in the corner stall of the women's restroom just off the fourth-floor customer service pod, her hand slipped between her thighs, lost in the thrall of her memories of submission. Fingers stroked downward over the fine hairs of her mound, spreading her vulva apart with her fingertips, and she inhaled sharply as she felt the first stroke against her exposed and throbbing clitoris. Reminiscing about her first experience with the Big Boss, her first time chained, her first time flogged, her first time physically tortured and emotionally humiliated by this unrelenting masked deviant had brought her to this level of sexual arousal, a personal passion she simply could not deny. She began to glide two fingertips up and down the length of her cleft, knowing that this act was forbidden but inevitable. She bit down on her lower lip, pinching her stiff nubbin between her finger and thumb and moaning as softly as she could while she continued to pleasure herself.

She heard the door to the restroom open as another employee entered, the sound of heels clicking on the floor. She snatched her hand out of her lap quickly, guiltily, trying to get her breathing back under control. When she glanced down at the leather-banded wristwatch on her forearm, she realized with horror it was almost time for his call. Should she miss it, the consequences may be more than she could bear.

She desperately wanted to finish what she'd started, but she hastily yanked up her panties, buttoned her pants, and snatched her apron from the hook inside the stall's door as she opened it. The intruding woman was standing at the vanity mirror, touching up her makeup. This was someone she recognized from her floor, and she reattached her smile as she stood next to her. She straightened her headband again, fluffed her dark auburn hair, and flashed her blue eyes up into the mirror to meet the other's. "Heeeyyyyy! How's your day going?" she chirped. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, right? See ya later, and push those bundle policies!" She only hoped the woman standing in front of the mirror hadn't noticed the smell of fresh sexual arousal emanating from her as she passed, exited the restroom and headed back towards her cubicle.

Her phone was already ringing. Oh, shoot! She ran the last few steps into her cubicle and snatched up the receiver from its cradle. She knew it was the Big Boss, and before words of apology could form on her lips, she heard the venom in his voice.

"You're late, slut."

"Sir..."

"Shut up!" he snarled at her.

She held the phone to her ear, embarrassed. Silent. She waited her turn, having learned her place when in contact with him.

"I know why you are late, too. You were in the bathroom just now. And you were doing something bad. VERY bad. Something you KNOW you're not allowed to do without my express permission, slut. Or did you forget your place?"

"No, Sir. I didn't forget," she replied meekly.

"Then you disobeyed me on purpose. Since you obviously can't control yourself, I'm going to have to do it for you."

"I'm sorry, S—"

"SHUT UP!" he roared. She winced, pulling the phone from her ear. Her free hand flew to her face, trying to cover her expression of shock and shame quickly. She knew that if anyone saw her as anything other than the super-friendly superstar, questions would be asked. Or people would talk about it when she wasn't around. And that led to rumors. And rumors led to trouble. She leaned back into the receiver, silent, expectant. His voice returned to its usual hoarse whisper, but she could hear his fury brimming just below the surface.

"You will report to Suite 602 in this building at precisely 4:30. If you are so much as a fraction of a second late..." He had left the promise of repercussions unspoken, and her imagination churned with fear at what may happen if she didn't comply. He continued, knowing he had her full attention. "You will dress in what is provided, and you will blindfold and cuff yourself. You will be escorted to the Training Room at my leisure. You understand." Not a question.

She responded without hesitation. "Yes, sir. 4:30." She knew better than to repeat the suite number for fear of being overheard. And she knew better than to be late twice in one day. She was already starting to worry about what the punishment was going to entail for her indiscretion in the bathroom only a short time ago. Adding insult to injury (Ha, ha. Like I'm not going to get both of those anyway, she mused) would only worsen the situation. And the possibilities were limited only by her Master's imagination, which was cruel, and based on her experiences with him so far, without boundaries.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
Hmm

Boring......

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