Subjugating Sarah Ch. 02

CHAPTER 2

It was Monday, 9am, and I was entering the office, fully clothed as I would usually be. Mark and Pete greeted me there. They were sitting at their desks, and tried acting like their gaze was locked on their computer screens, but it wasn't. They were throwing a few glances here and there, because they wanted to see.

It was now like a ritual. Twice a week, I'd come to the office wearing my... alternate uniform. They looked as I took off my pants and shirt, revealing my half naked body in lingerie. And so began the day.

This was the third week of me occasionally working in lingerie. At first, I did it only twice a week. Then, two times a week. Now I was starting to do three. I hated it.

Well, I didn't hate the lingerie part. I hated how much I liked it. It turned me on. A lot.

There I was, the only female in the office. Half-naked, sexualized, subject to the overwhelming, all present male-gaze suited in masculine authority all around me. At least that's what the overt contrast in clothing was implicitly symbolizing. And by implicit, I mean an implication so obvious, it was bordering on explicit. Explicit like my lingerie.

I loved walking around the men in suits while I wore almost nothing. All my life, I'd been a tomboy. And now, for the first time, I was playing into the role of the most old-school femininity one could imagine: being the vulnerable, sexy female surrounded by strong, powerful men of authority. My entire body language would transform when I was in lingerie. I had always had mannerisms leaning towards masculine, but now, with this embodying of classic femininity, my body language turned all girly.

I felt like a model, admired for her beauty and sexiness. I loved how slutty I felt, knowing my ass was pretty much mostly exposed, and it was all there to look at for the men as I walked by.

Every second of working in the office now felt exciting. Every single instant felt like my body was constantly receiving gazes from good looking men. And that constant feeling of looks felt like a tickling sensation, like a touch washing all over my body, never letting go. I could feel their eyes all over my bare skin like hands caressing me.

Sometimes, when I stood next to them, I'd fantasize about them bringing their hands to my ass and groping it. Every time, I'd remember to focus, and not go too crazy. It was hard to focus and act all nonchalant when I was constantly super turned on.

That's why I kept my stone-cold behaviour the whole time. To hide just how much excitement was bursting within me. Of course, I had always had this strong attitude ever since my career had begun. It was the only way to survive in a male dominated space as the only woman. But now I had to double down on it to hide the girly slut loving it all on the inside.

I couldn't get enough. I loved the team meetings the most. We'd sit down together, acting like we were all just a bunch of employees. No difference between any of us. Except that I was dressed like a total slut. I felt like a whore showing off to them. That turned me on too.

Every time we'd have team meetings, I'd go out of my way to get up for the tiniest of excuses. If one of the guys had to pass a paper to the others, I'd quickly get up and do it for them, even if they were right next to one another. It wasn't just an excuse to show off my body and feel that effect of countless gazes tickling my body, there was more to it.

Deep down, I really liked the feeling of... serving them. An act as small as being the one to bring papers. It felt like I was demoting myself to the status of the classic female secretary—doing the menial tasks while the men did the real stuff. I liked that slight sense of lowering myself in the hierarchy even more than the lingerie already did.

One day, Steve and James came to me as I smoked outside.

"Don't you mind the worker guys looking?" James asked, meaning the transportation workers who loaded stuff in and out of the trucks and into the warehouse adjacent to our office.

I shrugged, implying I was indifferent. I wasn't, I actively liked them looking. They offered me an alternative kind of masculinity to contrast my bared, girly femininity. That of the guys in the office was classy, suit-wearing, gentlemanly. That of the worker guys was rough and gruff. I'd always spend some time during my breaks talking to them, but now I started doing it in my new "uniform."

I had to deny and repress the fantasies I imagined when I stood around those guys half naked. Fantasies full of my lingerie getting torn off, hair pulling, situations rough and intense. I took a deep breath and repressed those thoughts once again. I couldn't admit to myself that I was such an easy slut: one who could literally fantasize about dozens of men I worked with. It was already hard enough to accept what I was doing in the first place.

"You know..." Steve said, barely hiding the fact that he was eyeing my mostly exposed breasts, "we've noticed how you've stopped wearing office clothes completely."

"I have," I said, putting the cigarette between my lips and puffing the smoke out seductively.

I looked Steve right in the eyes, letting him know that I knew he liked my breasts, and that I knew he knew. All of that without saying a word. I often found myself doing some very subtle, low-key flirting. It was like the lingerie was a superhero costume, one that turned me from my normal self into this slutty goddess of sensuality.

My normal self was the one who wore normal clothes. Yes. This lingerie wearing, half-naked slut who yielded to the male gaze and desperately wanted it wasn't the real me. She was a corruption, one that would probably get over this phase, and go back to her true self once I was done with this temporary phase. Yes. It was temporary.

Anyway. Steve had just remarked that I had completely stopped wearing normal clothes. For a week now, I just wore lingerie all the time. It had become the "norm," no matter how objectively abnormal it was.

"Bet you guys like it." I said.

"That's the thing. The original plan wasn't you wearing lingerie. It was you wearing nothing."

I scoffed. My smile was scornful and defiant, but part of it was because of my arousal. I liked how bad they were being. Every time they directly looked me in the eyes and said that I was supposed to be naked according to the original plan, it turned me on. Manly men telling me dominantly that I should be naked... how could that not turn me on?

"Keep dreaming." My response was cold and quick.

I threw my cigarette butt to the ground and walked away. I had my limits. Their little fantasy of me being naked wasn't gonna happen. Ever.

...

I came to work the next week and placed myself before Mark and Pete sitting at their desks. I was now used to this little ritual of me opening my shirt, and seeing their not so subtle looks stealing glances at my bra. Yet as I unbuttoned my shirt... their eyes were fixed on their screens. Huh, I thought. I guess they were working on something important.

Well, no biggie, I told myself. I knew how to get those eyes on me. I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down slowly, turning around so my ass faced them. I looked behind me.

Nothing.

They weren't looking at me.

What the hell? I was literally taking my clothes off, showing off my half-naked body in lingerie, and they weren't even looking? I was confused, to say the least.

After that, I met some of the guys gathered in the cafeteria.

"Hey guys," I said.

'Hey."

"We'll be working on last week's files today?"

"Yep." Dan began giving me instructions, but he was looking at his phone. Normally, he'd be looking at me, at my bra, stealing a glance at my legs or my butt if I was walking by. Now his eyes didn't even stare in my general direction.

I looked at the other guys gathered there. Same thing. They were looking at each other.

What the hell was going on?

The rest of the day was just that. Them ignoring me completely. They'd talk to me and acknowledge my existence, but never look at me. Not a glance. Not a look. It was starting to actively bother me.

I was actually feeling annoyed now. I wanted them to look. Badly. I was so used to their gazes constantly eying my quasi-nudity all day long... it felt weird to not have it anymore. I wanted to feel sexy, to feel a little powerless around them... Why wouldn't they give me that?!

I now realized that I had gotten so used to it... I couldn't do without it anymore. I was addicted. I wanted it. I wanted more. I was really starting to get desperate.

I spent the rest of the day wearing neither my panties nor my bra. Half-naked with only the sexualizing lingerie on my otherwise bared body.

I drove back home swearing that this was the last time. Sure. It was cool to experience that once. It was cool to experience the exhibitionist and submissive thrill of letting your long-time colleagues see your bare body. But it was the last time. I promised myself that.

Then, as soon as I entered my house, I threw myself on the couch and fingered myself to an orgasm unlike any I had had in a long time. And when the post-masturbation clarity entered, only one thing was clear to me.

It wasn't going to be the last time.