tagNonConsent/ReluctanceJessica's Change Management Ch. 14

Jessica's Change Management Ch. 14


--Week 4 - Tuesday--

"We have a high score for 'Compliant, Cum-drunk Cunt' here, indeed."

Those were the last words Ortega had said after dumping his cumload into my pussy. Since then, he had risen from the coffee table he had nailed me on, tugged away his cock, and returned to his desk to continue working. He acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary that a panting, fuck happy bimbo ass-istant was lying in his office. As if!

At least, he let me catch my breath 'cause I was so exhausted I could barely lift a limp. I had never gotten fucked like that before. Not only had my archrival managed to make me have a squirting orgasm for the first time ever, he had caused me to get off lots. Actually, I didn't even know how many times I had cum.

"Looks like you enjoyed your hiring party, Missy." Justin told me when he eventually stepped up to me.

The intern had acted as Ortega's taskmaster for the ass-essment center, and obviously he didn't deem his job finished.

"Tomorrow, your new job starts." He added impatiently. "Let's get you ready for that."

Grabbing my arm, the young henchman helped me off the coffee table. Standing on my sky-high white platform heels, I was really wobbly on my legs, so I had to lean on Justin's shoulder to prevent myself from tumbling over. Brushing down the hemline of my white pencil dress and zipping up the clunky golden zipper, he packed up my assets, basically dressing me up like a little kid.

With my outfit back in order, Justin walked me out of the office. On the way, I had to lean on his shoulder to keep upright, 'cause I was still so weak-kneed. The stairway went beyond the consultant floor to a private employee entrance leading straight to the parking lot. Fortunately, we didn't have to walk all the way through the main hallway again.

While getting to my sports car, I was still so occupied with regathering my strength that I didn't even ask where we were going. That became clear when we drove onto the parking lot of the shopping mall.

"Remember, dollie, Mr. Ortega wasn't convinced you'd make a good office bimbo." The intern reminded me. "You proved your job fit but still miss the look. We gotta improve on that."

Woah! Seriously? I stared at the slimeball in total disbelief. He had to be kidding! The fringe hairstyle and sculpted eyebrows? The fake orange tan and vajazzling? The 'LGZ' crown tantoo on my crotch and the bow tan stamp on my lower back? All of it screamed glamour doll, right?

"Mr. Ortega ain't doing half-assed stuff. He's all about shit or bust." Justin explained when he saw my surprise. "All or nothing, that's the stake for you now, yummy dummy."

"You passed two tests and failed one, remember Miss Bimbo?" He further elaborated. "So you get to choose two bimbo upgrades 'n Mr. Ortega chooses one."

Oh wow! That short address left me speechless. My previous slut upgrades hadn't been half-assed, had they? Fine, I had shied away from any permanent modifications. Still, they had totally changed my appearance! That was something, right?

Just when I opened my mouth to retort to Justin's presumption, the memory of the orgasmic frenzy I had endured at Ortega's hands assailed me. The sheer recollection made me groan. It took the wind out of my sails and stifled any kinda protest. Gawd! I needed to relive this sensual frenzy. I needed more of this sexual rapture. If I had to go all bimbo and get further slut upgrades for that, fine, I would do it.

With that debate settled, we walked into the shopping mall. On the way, my brain was running hot with thoughts about possible bimbo upgrades. What had been D-Rod's suggestions again? Oh righty, hoop earrings, dye job, manicure.

Everything I remembered had already been realized. Besides, it wasn't anything permanent. Duh! Everything else wasn't feasible, at least not until tomorrow. Dang! I couldn't come up with creative ideas. I couldn't come up with lotsa ideas, either. I couldn't think clearly at all. Shoot!

Anyhow, I knew I had to make a decision. Justin wouldn't grant me much more time 'cause we had run through half the mall already. That kinda pressure didn't really help so I made a hasty decision. I mean, a fateful decision.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm so outta ideas, you know?" I gushed apologetically. "It's so difficult to choose. It's so much difficulter to decide."

"What about this?" I quickly made a suggestion before the slimeball got angry. "I take care of the basics, you know, renewing my tan and manicure and stuff."

"In the meantime, I let you boys make the tough choices." I gushed out my suggestion. "Ortega gets to select two upgrades and you select the other one. Okie?"

Now, it was the intern's turn to look surprised. He quickly recovered, though, and nodded his agreement.

"That's definitely difficult-er than thinking for yourself." He chuckled in response.

Woah! The way he emphasized the wrong comparative, it was obvious he was doing it deliberately. Oh no! Just then, I realized that I had misspoken first. I hadn't even noticed it before. Duh!

Whatever! Obviously, the intern liked my proposition. Relief surged through me when I felt the burden of decision lifted off my shoulders. Yay! At ease with my choice, I turned and tottered to the beauty salon. I only just saw Justin fish his smartphone from his pocket and call Ortega. Oh goodie! He was putting my suggestion into action.

Entering the salon, it felt like a safe haven. Ridiculous, right? Actually, not so much 'cause I knew the place and the beautician. I knew what I wanted and what I had to expect. Going platinum blonde would have been the bimboy thingie but I had just been to the hairdresser a couple of days ago. Besides, I really liked my fringe hairstyle with the golden highlights. So I decided to keep my hair the way it was.

I know, I know. I had to make up for that. So I decided to get an extra layer of spray tan. However, I chose to keep the tan tattoos. It was my way of keeping D-Rod close. Ortega might have taken the charm bracelets off me but he couldn't take the tantoos away. As long as I was wearing them, there was still hope for my man's return. At least, that was what I talked myself into.

Stripping in front of the female beautician didn't feel awkward this time around. I even chatted with her about different beauty products while she removed the old splotchy tan and rubbed off my vajazzlings. A girl gotta take care of her body after all.

When the beautician was done, I checked my renewed spray tan in the mirror. It definitely looked darker 'cause I had chosen honey as color tone instead of regular bronze this time. It also looked way more fake. Kinda like a side effect, the white tantoos stood out way more prominently 'cause color contrast.

This time, I had added the crown to the 'LGZ' letters. I had also decided to go with a larger version of the bow tramp stamp that reached from one hip to the other. Gosh! It looked so cheap. It looked so skanky. My rival and his henchman would love it.

Off to the manicure then. Once again, I felt like I had to go the extra mile, 'cause in the end this was just a brush-up instead of anything new. Last time, I had endlessly looked at pictures of nail styles, until I had carefully chosen French nails that were only a tad longer than appropriate for a business lady.

However, I remembered a picture that had caught my eye the last time. Back then, I had instantly excluded it 'cause it looked so over-the-top. Now, it seemed like the perfect style. After all, bigger was better. That was kinda like a bimbo motto, wasn't it?

When I showed the beautician the picture, she raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word. So I ended up with acrylic nails. They were way thicker than natural nails. This alone was enough to make them look super fake. It also allowed the nails to extend way past my fingertips, so much that the tip was about as long as my nail bed. You could say, the tips were super long.

As style, I chose a square shape with ombré pattern that started out in fire engine red and slowly morphed into white tips. I kinda felt like I had to up the bimbo factor some more, so I let the beautician add sparkly rhinestones in between the red and white polish. It caused my nails to glitter with every move. OMG! My new fake nails were super flashy and super clunky. If that didn't sound like the definition of bimboy.

"No one's ever picked this style before, you know?" The beautician eventually couldn't keep her thoughts to herself. "Never would have taken you to be the first one. Didn't seem like your style, you know, the first time you came here."

The way the woman spoke made it clear that she deemed my new manicure totally tacky, although she had bleached blond hair and fake, pink fingernails herself. Hypocrite much?

"Actually, we made a bet at the salon." She exclaimed. "Sandy over there wagered a pornstar would pick that manicure. But I went with trophy wife."

It was clear that she thought she had won the bet. Obviously, she took me as some trophy bimbo. Probably, she thought D-Rod was some kinda gangsta rapper and I was his current squeeze living off his money. So wrong! So debasing!

"So what is it?" The beautician asked me.

"I mean, it's gotta be something like that, right?" She added when I didn't response at once. "Come on, who else gets away with nails that long? Anybody else needs their hands to do real work, right?"

Woah! Seriously! This beautician looked like a tarty chick herself. Yet, she thought these nails could only be worn by women with nothing else to do but look pretty. Women who didn't have to do actual work! Women who were pornstars, escorts, or trophy wives. Silly cow!

How did she dare! She was totally out of position here! I should have bitchslapped her for saying it to my face. In my fuck happy, bubbly state, however, my reaction was totally different. I felt like proving her wrong. Yeah! I would make it work. Actually, I would make these nails work at the office. Yay!

Whatever! I didn't get a chance to sort things out 'cause Justin walked into the beauty salon to pick me up. Quickly, I found out that the beauty specialist might have had some kinda point. When I tried to pay, I couldn't manage to open the pocket of my wallet. I couldn't grasp the button with my fingertips 'cause the clunky square nails got in the way. Gosh! So embarrassing!

I could only giggle bashfully while I repeatedly tried to open the pocket. Jeez! I was failing at the simplest thingie already. Watching me, the beautician shook her head while the slimeball grinned from ear to ear.

It took me so many tries until I came up with the idea of using the ombré tips to grab the button. Yay! It worked, albeit clumsily. Anyways, I simply held the wallet open to let the beautician drop the change into the pocket. It earned me another head shake but I didn't really care.

Tottering out of the beauty salon, I was still satisfied with my choices. After all, Justin's grin told me that I had made the right choice. Whatever! It was time to learn about the man's plans for my bimbo upgrades.

Not having to worry about these tough choices had been so liberating. Still, I was psyched and wired. I literally felt as jittery as a kid at Christmas eve. My agitation only increased when we headed for a tattoo parlor. Anything I could get there would be permanent, wouldn't it?

This was a step I had always been too frightened to take. However, it would please Ortega. It would get me another ride on his magic stick. Yeah, it totally would. So I was as ready as I would ever be, I guess.

With every step, my nervousness increased until I almost stopped and turned on my heels. Instead, though, I grabbed Justin's hand and clawed my fresh, super long fake nails into his palm. Once again, it only elicited another toothy grin from the intern.

Inside the store, Justin greeted a tattoo artist like an old friend. Apparently, he had already arranged an appointment during my time at the beauty salon. The tattooist's appearance kinda frightened and relaxed me at the same time. He was covered in tattoos, even on his neck. However, his long goat beard, flat cap, and candid manner made him kinda likeable.

Whoop-dee-doo, I was laying prone on a black tattoo lounger in the blink of an eye. As I was lying face down, I couldn't see what the tattoo artist was doing. I could only hear the buzzing of the tattoo machine and feel the needle on my skin.

The tattoo artist started inking my upper left butt cheek. It stung a bit but not much due to the fatty tissue. From the way, the needle moved over my ass, though, I couldn't tell what he was drawing. Gosh! The anticipation was killing me.

When the tattooist was finished with my upper left ass cheek, he moved over to my right bun. He basically started inking the same spot on my upper right butt cheek. Once again, I couldn't tell what it was from the movements of the needle.

Finally, the tattoo artist was done. I was so giddy with excitement that I almost jumped off the lounger. Stepping in front of a mirror, I checked my backside. First, I saw the big, pale bow tan stamp reaching from one hip to the other. Gosh! Still tacky!

Then my eyes roamed deeper. And I gasped out...

On my left butt cheek, a big kiss mark tattoo was emblazoned with cherry red ink. So cheeky! On my right butt cheek, another lip tattoo was inked really prominently. It had realistic red lips, seductively opened with the tongue licking the upper teeth. So lewd!

Oh my god! I had two pairs of lips displayed on my ass. They would be there forever! The two tattoos looked super gaudy and super salacious. The slutty position on my ass made them even raunchier. So vulgar!

However, lips also symbolized sensuality and glamour, right? I guess they fit a bimbo then. So I couldn't really blame Ortega for choosing them, could I? I mean, they were called bimbo upgrades for a reason.

"Good to see you like your tattoos, dollie." Justin called me back to the tattoo lounger. "Bet you'll love my upgrade then."

"You got tattoos from Mr. Ortega. So of course, I chose something else." He enticed me without telling me what he had selected.

Gesturing me over to some kinda tattoo chair, he made me sit down with the hemline of my white pencil dress pushed up to my hips. Sitting on the chair with my naked ass felt kinda weird. Sitting with my pussy exposed in front of a total stranger didn't really feel weird, though. After all, the beautician had already seen me totally naked before, right?

After cleaning and disinfecting the whole area around my pussy, it slowly dawned on my that Justin had decided to give my snatch an upgrade. But what would it be? Actually, the process was so quick I barely had time to think about it. The tattoo artist took a needle, pushed it through my flesh, and placed a jewel. Yup, as you might have guessed already, it was a piercing.

I sharply inhaled when the pain struck me. It hurt really badly! Everything went so quickly, however, the pain only lasted a few seconds. When the tattooist placed the barbell, though, it felt really uncomfortable.

Oh wow! I had just gotten my pussy pierced. I had gotten a horizontal clitoral hood piercing. So slutty! However, my gasp of pain turned into a groan of desperation when I saw the jewelry dangling off my clit.

Oh my fucking god! It was a shiny gold zipper! A fucking zipper with three rhinestones on the zipper slider! For sure, the most submissive piercing ever. Flashy to the max! Humiliating to the max!

"You see, it's the perfect bimbo upgrade." Justin exclaimed. "It keeps your clit stimulated at all times."

"What's even better, the zipper shows everybody that Mr. Ortega owns this bimbo." The slimeball further elaborated. "He can zip up your greedy cunt or zip it open whenever he likes."

Holy fudge! This time, my gasp of astonishment concurred with my groan of humiliation. So mean! So degrading! Even though my clit felt sore from the piercing, my pussy was throbbing. I couldn't tell if it was caused by the new sensations or the debasement, though. It didn't really matter anyways.

Of course, Justin let me pay for my bimbo upgrades. I guess I couldn't bring these expenses to account at the company, could I? Whatever! I had far different problems. Paying posed some serious problems 'cause I once again fumbled with my wallet thanks to my über-long, clunky nails. The tattoo artist didn't get peeved or something, though. I guess the unwieldy nails fit a slut that got lips inked onto her ass.

When we walked out of the tattoo parlor, I finally realized what had happened in its entirety. No longer was I a glamour doll tarted-up to the max with flashy accessories and swanky jewelry. Now, I was an owned bimbo marked with a super skanky piercing and super tacky tattoos forever. Gulp!

On our way to my sports car, I was definitely the star of the mall. Every head turned when I passed, which was hardly surprising as my shiny white dress and fire engine red porno nails were real eye catchers.

As soon as I had caught somebody's eye, there were only two reactions. Either a scornful head-shaking or a lecherous look. The disdain made me scoff all defiantly whereas the leers made me giggle all giddily. Anyways, both reactions aroused me. Gosh! I had cum a ton from Ortega's dick only a short while ago. Yet, I was already getting horny again.

Justin made me drive to my house without dropping him off at his home. When we arrived, he simply followed me inside and headed straight over to the couch in the living room. Okay, I guess he was staying over for the night.

I didn't really have to ask, 'cause I knew that it had been Ortega's order. Obviously, he didn't trust me an inch and had detailed Justin to keep me under guard. Oh wow! My personal chaperon! How nice!

The way the slimeball lounged on the couch, he wasn't much interested in me. He had already used my mouth to give him relief, so he seemed more interested in some lowbrow reality show running on TV.

That didn't mean I couldn't be of use for him. Instead, he excelled at making me serve him any other way. Soon, I found myself standing in my kitchen, preparing a sandwich for the rude intern. I chuckled to myself at what I was doing. Preparing dinner for a college-age dipshit who wouldn't be thankful for it at all. Not my usual after hours for sure.

For the rest of the evening, Justin continued watching TV and keeping me busy. He constantly made me bring him beer or snacks or whatever. It felt like a throwback to the frat party, only that I was the slimeball's personal serving wench this time around.

Apparently my archrival and his henchman had planned the whole scenario 'cause Justin had brought along a duffel bag. Of course, it was chock-full of dirty laundry that needed to be cleaned.

Can you believe it? He made me do the laundry for him while he didn't lift a finger and remained slouched on the couch drinking his beer. The business executive doing the laundry for a petty intern. Um sorry, I mean, Ortega's personal ass-istant doing the laundry for his special intern. Grrr!

Too bad, though, that my long clunky nails constantly got in my way. I tried my best to cope with the unfamiliar length, which hindered me lots. It wasn't so easy, though. They kept me from making quick progress, 'cause more than once, my porno nails slipped off and a clothespin dropped to the floor. It took great effort to picked it back up each time.

Oh dang! I couldn't really use my fingers for grasping stuff anymore. Instead, I had to use the tip of my nails to take thingies like the pegs and clothes, which made my work really slow and awkward. Gosh! I couldn't even do housework effectively anymore.

I had gotten this manicure to look more tarty and sexy for Ortega, not to render myself useless. However, my own clumsiness somehow aroused me. After all, I had voluntarily handicapped myself!

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byCathartico© 22 comments/ 46143 views/ 23 favorites

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