Community Service Ch. 01

Community Service

You look at the clock on your computer. 3:23pm. The day is simultaneously turning into the longest day ever, and racing through at double speed. Time seems to have stopped this afternoon as you wish you could just fast forward to 5pm. But as you feel your pulse race, and you start to feel light-headed from the adrenaline flowing through your veins, you wish it was Thursday and you had another day to prepare.

You look back to the computer screen, aware you have the same document open as you did at 9am, with barely any change. You look around at your colleagues in the open office, wondering if anyone has noticed your lack of productivity today. Probably not, it's a Friday, and they are all mostly having their own thoughts of what they'll be doing this weekend. But their thoughts are of bars with friends, playing sports, BBQs and lazy brunches. None of these things enter your mind today. For whilst your mind races, the physical reminder is constantly there as you sit in the office feeling the pressure of the string of pearls that runs over your pussy instead of panties.

For the 100th time today, you think back to how you got here. If any one thing had not gone exactly as it did, you too would be getting ready for some fun after work drinks and then a generic weekend that you would recount on Monday back in the office. You were just living life, 9-5 job, making ends meet, but not really saving anything. You'd just got back from a summer holiday week away with some friends. Sun, sand, sangria and, yes, just a little sex. So the bank balance was looking pretty dire as the month went on. And then you got the letter from your landlord telling you she was selling your flat. You'd been there for 2 years, and knew the rents had gone up around the city since then so that was going to mean a big increase, but worse you needed to find the month rent deposit. In hindsight any other way would have been better.

You had been at the company 18 months now, and each Friday you prepared the supplier invoices ready for your manager to arrange payment. 15-20 invoices, and thousands of dollars. It seemed so simple; add an extra small invoice, get the rent, and next month after you got your old deposit you could put a credit through and reverse the payment, and no-one would know. The end of year audit would see everything balanced. And the plan worked perfectly. You got the money for the rent. Ok, and a couple of hundred extra dollars, well those new shoes counted as essential goods. And once you'd moved, you prepared the credit note to be able to repay the 'loan' as you'd convinced yourself it was. Only that's where it all went wrong.

As you went to see the manager as you did each week with the invoices, about to breeze in to his office you gave a nod to his secretary, ready for the obligatory nod and instruction to go in. Instead "He's not in. You are to take those up to Mr Jones on level 8." You literally stop in your tracks. This was a first. You'd never been called up to the executive floor before. And whilst normally you'd be excited to go up there, any other week would be fine. But with the recriminating evidence in your hand, this was not what you needed. "You've not been up before, so I'll show you to his office" came the friendly but unwelcome offer. As you got in the lift with the secretary your mind races. How can you get out of this. It's not just losing the one sheet, it's the whole report that would need to be updated if you take out the evidence of your theft. Yep, it's back to theft now, not a loan. The lift goes up, and your mind inexplicably starts thinking you wish you'd worn something different today as it's not really going to be very comfortable sitting around in a jail cell in a tight pencil skirt, white cotton blouse that is deliberately a size too small for your bust and those new high heels with the heels just 1" too high for the office.

Bing. The bell brings your focus back to the moment. And you walk through the exec floor which in stark contrast to your normal workspace is a series of individual offices. As you walk down the corridor, you see the door at the end, the company owner Mr Jones looming towards you. Each pace taking you closer to your fate. As you get there his secretary tells you to wait. You stand nervously. You see the secretary looking at you. Seeing her eyes take in the hip hugging material of your skirt, and the outline of your bra pushing into the blouse. You see the judgement on her face. Bzzzzz. "You may enter" she says, but despite the phrase it is clearly an instruction. There is no option for you.

In you go, closing the double door behind you. He sits behind a large mahogany desk. Not looking up from the papers he has on his desk. You cautiously approach, not sure if you should speak. You approach, as though he's a tiger, you don't want to make a rapid movement in case you startle him and he lashes out. You place the file on the desk, hoping he'll just sign them and you can be on your way.

"Wait" he says without looking up. He reaches out and pick up the folder, opens it and starts flicking through the invoices, initialling each page as he goes. You count the sheets as he goes, counting down to one you fabricated on 8th of he 12 sheets. 4, 5, 6, 7, each sheet quickly scanned and initialled. He turns over to page 8. And then your stomach drops, your heart skips as he turns over to page 9 with no initial. You stand there as he goes through the other pages, initialling. What's happening, has he noticed, does he know. The torture going on. And then he closes the file and looks up to you. This is it.

"Tell me about the credit-note for 'Office supplies'." Your throat dry. You try to think of a response. Double down and claim it as legitimate, or admit and throw yourself at his mercy.

"You have a choice. Think carefully. Every day we make decisions that have long lasting implications."

This is it. "I'm so sorry Mr Jones. I was desperate, I just needed a loan. I was going to pay it back. I AM paying it back, it's in the file. Please Mr Jones, don't report this to the police."

He pauses. For a few seconds. For an hour? That moment could have been either. "You made the right choice. I hope that this will be the first of several correct choices you will get today, otherwise your life may well become very different to that you hope. With a criminal record there will be no international travel. Your employment choices will be very restricted, so I hope you like cleaning toilets or working in noisy dirty factories. And I hope you like showering with 20 other women, all whilst watched by prison guards. As that's your next 5 years."

He let that hang out there in the air.

"But there is another option."

My heart raced. "Anything. I'm so sorry, I'll pay it back. I'll work extra hours for the interest. Anything."

He leant back and smiled. "Anything is a very strong word. But I will make you an offer." With that he slid across a folder from his desk. It had been sat there since I came into the room. "I will let you keep that payment. Consider it an advance. And each month for the next year, the 1 year duration of the contract I will make you an equal payment."

I was confused, why was he offering me more money when I had stolen from him. Yes, stolen, I was now admitting that to myself.

"The money is equivalent to an additional week's wages. In return, you will spend one weekend a month under contract. 5pm Friday until 8:30 Monday morning."

Thoughts raced around my mind. But why would he want me working when the office was closed. Surely he could get someone cheaper to do additional filing or copying on a weekend. ... But all was about to become clear. Very clear.

He stands up. He's over 1.9m tall. About 40. Not young, but clearly athletic and hasn't let the long days in the office take over his life. If he goes to the gym on his lunch it's to really work out, not to play half a game of squash with some other office worker then eat double the calories on the way back. The suit fits perfectly, and hangs in the way that only quality materials do. His shirt bright white, crisp collar and I see the shining silver cufflinks peeking out under his sleeves. He walks around the desk towards me, I start to turn.

"Eyes forward. Stand straight."

My body reacts instantly. About 3 seconds later my mind realises what I have done. His voice seemingly able to directly control my body more immediately than my own consciousness.

He walks behind me now. I feel his presence. I smell his aftershave, expensive, subtle citrus tones. Not overpowering. But all the more noticeable as I strain to detect the component notes. I feel his eyes staring at me. My palms sweating. Not knowing what to do with my fingers as I uncomfortably let them hang by my sides.

He comes back into view, this time in front of me, between me and the desk. He leans back on his desk, still clearly staring at me. Starting with my head, his eyes burning through me as he locks with me. I blink, the spell broken. And his eyes carry on down, to my chest. Down over my stomach. I'm grateful for all those pilates classes in that moment, and down to the low hem of my skirt beneath my knees.

"It would be unwise of you to sign a contract without realising what you are agreeing to. And so in addition to that contract going forward, there is also a penalty for the money you took in advance of us entering into an agreement. That penalty will be 30 minutes of your time now, and will give you an understanding of what is expected of you. You can cancel this agreement at any time today, and instead we can just call security and handle this traditionally. That is another choice you have today. Do you understand?"

"Err, I think so. I guess."

"'Yes Sir' is the way you will respond. Do you understand?"

"Umm, Yes? Yes Sir?"

"Better. Now remove your blouse."

WHAT? No. This was ridiculous. What did he think I was? "No -- that's crazy. You can't ask me to do that, it's illegal" I snap.

"Very well, in which case please take a seat over there while security come up and we can discuss your fraud."

Shit. His comments about my life race through. Let's face it I'm no virgin, and just a few weeks ago anyone on the beach would have seen my breasts, so if this is what it's going to take. Fair enough.

I start to quickly unbutton from the bottom. BANG. His hand slaps on the desk.

"You will start from the top, one button every 10 seconds. At all times your eyes will be on me" he calmy commands. And it is a command. Again my finger move to the top button before the message has gone from my ears to my mind and back through my arms. How does he have such control over me?

The first button is fine. This is the button I undo on the way to the bar after work. Hey, don't judge, you don't know when you are going to meet the next Mr Right. But button 2, well that's now getting very not work appropriate. Especially given the tight pull on the material as it gapes open to give more than a glimpse of bra material, and now a very full view of the tops of my breasts and half of the white lace bra itself. His eyes are locked to mine, not on my emerging chest, and this makes me fee even more naked.

"Continue" he states, and my fingers do his bidding. A minute later my hands return to my sides, the blouse open, creating a gap that runs almost perfectly the width between my nipples. A distance clear to see given the visibility of my engorged hard nipples through the bra.

He stands and walks behind me, a lion circling his prey. I feel his hands on my shoulders as his fingers grip the material and he effortlessly brings it off my shoulder and down my arms, as he takes away not just my blouse, but the last thread of my control of the situation I find myself in.

He walks around, a full 360 lap, reminding me to keep my eyes forward as he notices me tracking him. My mind runs ahead. Where is this going to end. 30 minutes. What's that, 2 mins already? So 28 minutes. Will I be down to my panties? Would I take my bra off? No that's too much. Hang on, but in jail I'll be given no choice and it will be way more than a few minutes nudity.

I don't get time to consider more, as the next command comes. Just one word. Like a shot. "Skirt."

I slip off my heels, standing on the floor in my stocking covered feet. And then I reach behind to unzip the skirt, letting that fall to the floor with a wiggle and a push over the hips. Exposing my matching white cotton briefs and the black holdups. I stand waiting.

"You will fold your skirt and put your heels back on." Said as a statement of fact As if just commenting on the totally obvious.

I start to bend my knees to pick up my skirt, but again, he controls me. "You will always bend with straight knees. From the waist. You will learn this lesson now. "

Ok, he want's a show. Fair enough I suppose. I push my hips back as I reach over, straight back, and my rear pushes towards him, as I pick up the skirt. Standing I fold the skirt, awaiting his next command. He walks around and sits on the desk again. He holds his hand out and I volunteer my skirt to him which he places to the side of the desk.

"Bra." Ok. So we are going all the way. Time doesn't fly when you need it to my mind thinks.

I reach behind to unclasp the strap. Pausing as I rationalise what is happening and then with a deep breath I release it at with one hand covering my breasts, hold out the bra to him. He smiles, takes it as he realises he didn't even need to ask and adds to the pile of my clothes beside him.

"Hands behind your head."

His control is complete now. I realise I have no choice. Not because of the theft, or any contract, because in this room at this time he owns my mind. I stand up straight and as my hands go behind my head, my breasts are released to his gaze.

He leaves me there for some time. I can't guess how long. And then he stands and goes back behind the desk, staying standing and opening a drawer. I can't see what he gets, there's a rattle sound as he picks something up and it goes in his trouser pocket. He closes the drawer and walks behind me. I stand there staring out the office window, for the first time wondering if anyone in the offices opposite is looking into the room as I stand here.

I flinch as his hands go to my elbows. He gently pulls them back to make a straight line where they had been arced slightly forward. His adjustment making my chest push slightly forward. His hands trace down under my upper arms and to my ribs. His fingers now along the side of my breasts. And then the inevitable as they move around and he cups my breasts. His hold is firm, but not painful. I feel the pressure, but don't fear of bruises. And whilst the hold was expected, the feeling in my panties was not, as I feel the tell-tale moistness of excitement. His hands move over my breasts until my nipples are held between thumb and forefinger on each side.

"And now for the penalty phase to begin" he states. What? This wasn't it? So what's going on so far? A look of confusion and shock jumps to my face, the first moment of this bizarre experience that has actually shaken me. And with no more warning, he squeezes both nipples. I gasp and give a stern "Ouch" as my hands come down and swat his arms away and covering my breasts.

He walks around in front of me smiling. "I see that your ability to follow simple rules remains a challenge. Perhaps we can help." He removes his tie, and then pulls my wrists towards him, again exposing my breasts and holding my forearms side by side, elbows together, wrists up. Within seconds he has looped his tie around and my wrists, then with a firm grip moves my hands to be crossed, the action tightening the bind and anther loop leave my wrists bound in front of me, hands crossed and the remainder of his tie extending down towards the floor.

He grabs the free material and holds it up, pulling my hands high, and with his free hand shocks me to my call as he slaps my left breast. As my mouth opens to express shock he spins me around to be facing the door I came into and pulls my wrists back so that they are behind my neck again, elbows high up to the ceiling, and I feel the silk material of his tie down my back and ticking my butt cheeks.

I feel his hand touch the waist band of my panties at the back and realise I'm almost powerless to resist but squeeze my legs together to make it harder for him. But I was wrong, what I didn't expect was that he looped the tie through that and with a swift pull two things happened. First is that my wrists got pulled firmly down my neck, unable to move, and secondly my panties got drawn tightly up my crack front and back. With every little movement of my wrists more of the soft cotton material got flossed between my legs creating a firm pressure on my most sensitive parts.

Hands go to my hips and I feel the pressure turning me around to face him again. As I look to him his foot reaches out taps between my ankles as his eyebrows raise almost querying why I didn't automatically stand legs apart. I move to create a 4" gap but he keeps tapping until my heels are some 18" apart and I start to worry about my ankles in the heels. His hand glides up the inside of my thigh, an almost bored expression on his face as he molested my body in a way that I so craved. His hand inching closer and closer to my sex, until I let his finger on my panties pulled taught against my mound, and the smirk appear on his face as he noticed what I feared, the moistness that had soaked through to them. To share me no shame he brought his finger up to my face, wafting it under my nose so I could smell the unmistakable scent of arousal. And then to my lips as he gentle pushed the finger into my mouth. My tongue instinctively caressing the pad of his finger, the tang of my juice resulting in an instant increase in the dampness from where it came.

And with that, the finger was gone and his fingers returned to grip my nipples. This time as my instincts tried to protect me all that happened was a sharp pressure in my crotch as the panties invaded further what they previously sought to cover. Each shimmy from me created a little more sawing making me wetter each time.

He then retrieved a chain rom his pocket. Each end with a screw clamp on it which he help up in front of me. And with a smile, he attached the first to my left nipple. At first the cold metal cooled the soreness from the recent pinch, but with each screw of the clamp the pressure grew until I couldn't help but pull away. With a small tug, he returned me as the pain in my stretched nipple had me return to him. And then he moved across to the other nipple repeating the task. Each time I tried to pull away he'd pull the chain and return me. Once the right nipple was clamped he went back and added two more turns to the left clamp and then two more to the right. The pressure on both just at the point that I was sweating, but just able to not shout. Moisture was building in the corner of my eyes, my breathing laboured but I struggled to control the breathing as each breath caused my chest to rise and fall, adding more sensation to the nipples.

He goes back to the other side of the desk, leaving me standing there. My eyes damp, my cheeks flushed, my nipples hard with excitement, screaming in pain, my stomach churning, and my folds damp. Each beat of my heart seeing to add a beat of pressure to my clitoris and a further step to an unwanted building desire for release. My body and mind battling in confusion as to what was happening.

He opened the drawer again, and individually placed three things on the desk in front of me. My eyes suddenly wide open. Lined up were a wooden paddle, about twice the size of a table tennis bat drilled with large holes. A leather strap, with a slit along the middle to make two 12" tails and an old fashioned cane.