Bring Your Master To Work Day Ch. 02

"Then... I guess I'll do Gretchen. Everybody always says how we look alike, and it always takes new hires like a month to tell us apart even when we're not trying so... this'll finally be a way to separate us."

"What... but... you... we..." Gretchen stammered, her own pretty pig-tailed face draining of color.

"You've been copying my style for too long, Gretchen -- look at it this way, I'm helping you stand out." Grace shrugged.

Dylan applauded her decision, and soon the whole gathering joined in. Even Patty, Gina and Gretchen. Master obviously wanted them to, after all, so they cheered on their own humiliating fates.

"Okey doke -- now don't think I forgot about the last bit," Dylan said as it quieted down. Indeed, at him saying so, it went totally silent. Everyone had just sort of hoped he'd forgotten the last place "prize".

He paced back and forth, looking around between all the drawings. Finally, he settled on one in particular, a picture ostensibly of a red flower. The artist, Courtney, even had an art minor, Megan was pretty sure.

"This stupid thing, I gotta say, is the pretty clear loser. I mean, a flower? What are we, like, eighteen years old, getting our first tramp stamps to make daddy mad? Come on."

The girls were quiet, looking amongst one another and masking their confusion. Could he not see it? How could anyone miss it? Especially someone who'd already had sex at least twice today, and seen or touched the pussies of close to half the girls in the office.

Courtney took a moment to speak up; it was difficult to challenge Master's decision. (Megan could hardly imagine the stress of such a thing.) "Um, Master Dylan? It's... it's a yonic flower."

"So? Who cares whether it's a tulip or chrysanthemum or a fuckin' yonic? It's notslutty."

Courtney cleared her throat, her voice cracking twice as she pressed on, desperate to avoid her proscribed punishment. "No, Master. Yonic means resembling the female vagina. Like phallic, for penises. It's, um, inspired by the work of Georgia O'Keeffe. I... I understand if you don't see it that way."

The man paused, rubbing his chin and giving it a second look. Slowly but surely, a boyish grin broke out on his face. "Well I'll be goddamned, babe! It sure is -- what's that word, yonic? Yeah, damn straight! I take that back, this is fuckin' art! Tell ya what, just for that, no loser! Well, other than those three cunts," he said, inclining his head to Patty, Gina and Gretchen.

As one, the girls fell all over themselves cooing and pawing at him and kissing him and thanking Master for his kindness. It was like a tornado of girls, swirling around him to give thanks for his mercy and good taste. Megan sort of got swept up in it all, literally getting dizzy as she ran her fingers across Master's shoulders and chest.

No, not her master. Desiree's.

Semantics, really.

She excused herself to the hallway, where she fell back against the wall and lifted her skirt, her fingers going right at her steaming wet pussy as she bucked and quivered and moaned. No one seemed to hear her though, or at least no one came out to intervene.

Well, one person did.

"Can I eat that for you?" Desiree asked, licking her lips.