Sandra is a feminist. She has badges and tote bags and attends meetings. Her food is organic. Her shoes are vegan.
And when nobody’s watching, she serves men willingly and brainlessly like a brainless whore because that is what she was born to do.
Stephanie is supposed to be the HR manager. But these guys have such stress and frustration that soon every meeting turned into a coaching session.
She’s dirty and used, but productivity has never been higher.
“Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing” says Mr Jessop, when he’s zipping up after their weekly one to one.
You are a selection of holes. It’s so important that you keep all of them ready for use.
Be a good slut and attend to your duties.
I cannot begin to tell you how bad a typist Daphne is. She can’t operate the phone, the photocopier is a mystery to her and she has difficulty with the coffee machine.
But boy are we glad she’s back in the office three days a week. We expect attendance is about to rebound.
How could she prove she wasn’t just a gullible stupid slut to the stranger in the bar?
“I’m not gullible abd I’m not a slut!” She said.
“I don’t believe you, slut. Prove it,” he replied.
She put together a perfect plan involving a shower, some soap, her beautiful tits and his cock.
She’s going to show him that she’s smart and not some dumb slut. And when she makes him shoot his load all over her face on camera, who’s going to look stupid and gullible then?
Now I know you’re thinking “whose friend is she? Is she his friend, or her friend?”
She’s everyone’s friend. Sally didn’t know how to make Jim feel good, and she was nervous. But Clarissa offered to give Sally a helping hand while Jim fucked Sally’s pretty face. She made sure Sally didn’t embarrass herself by breaking for air, and Jim rewarded Sally with a throat full of fresh sperm.
She’s proved herself a real friend to both Jim and Sally, and she hopes to help them both out later as well.
Be like Clarissa.
You get comfortable. Just out of the shower. Feeling good. Looking as good as you can.
You get into position, you pick up your phone and you let the world know that you’re available to chat.
“No dirty stuff” you tell them.
“I’m a good girl!”
And suddenly you’re rubbing and squirming and hoping for more, and more and more.
You little attention whore. Don’t pretend to be surprised. It’s what you came here for.
Your ability to turn your body into a joyless, mediocre fucksleeve is your only positive character trait.
You can take direction like a champ, though. You can warm and slobber over a cock like it owes you a living.
Show me some other tricks.
Tale as old as time. Make sure the lighting is right to take the photo you warned you would never send.
Potentially offensive messages are why you have a phone. You come to Reddit and always end up in this position. Soaking, begging, rubbing.
Tell me what you’re hoping for tonight.
She’s a terrible typist. She can’t file. She can’t clear photocopier jams. Her coffee making skills are non-existent.
But somehow, the office just wouldn’t be the same without her. The whole team agrees.
You lie in wait for them. You don’t know how soon, but you know they’ll come. And you’ll pretend you hate them, until you beg for more.
You’re sure this is just something he needs to get off. You’re sure this is just something you’ll do for him because he asks for it, and he’s nice.
You tell yourself that this does nothing for you. This is all for him. But you take a few more, just in case he asks again. And then you imagine what he does when you send him the pictures.
And then you realise what you’ve become.
You might not be delighted by it, but you exist to serve him. Nothing is humiliating. Nothing is degrading. It’s all service of his needs.
Tell me what you’ve chosen.
The types of messages you’ve set aside the time to enjoy.
The type of content you could never admit you need, but you need them just the same.
Panties down. Now, tell me.