The Price of Embezzlement Ch. 03

Author's Note: Welcome back, folks! I really enjoyed writing this commissioned story, and I'm so grateful for the support of everyone!

A special thank you to all my beta-readers; you've vastly improved the story, collectively. I love all of you.

Also thanks to the buyer, who commissioned this story. I hope you and your wife love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I always respond to comments, so be sure to let me hear your thoughts!

As always, Enjoy!

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It always sucks getting your period. Unless you're in the middle of a pregnancy scare or something, it's rough no matter what your situation is. That said, I feel like I'm in a uniquely shitty position. Honestly though, while it isn't as bad as it could be, it's far worse than I would have hoped.

Sitting at my desk, I can feel my pulse quicken slightly every time a coworker looks my way. Subconsciously, I fold my arms across my chest, trying to cover my breasts as much as possible. I've been so distracted with my attempts to keep my thinly veiled tits under wraps that I feel like I'm going crazy.

Why is this office so cold? My nipples insist on staying hard and poking through my midnight-blue blouse. I'm wearing a black camisole underneath, but I can tell that it's barely doing anything to conceal the shape of my breasts. Working at the office without a bra is so humiliating, and, in its own way, it's worse than having no panties.

I thought I had a fantastic idea to improve my situation, but my clever plan completely backfired once again. For the briefest moment, it seemed as if I was going to gain myself a week of reprieve from my agreement with Brent, but my plot went entirely awry.

A little over a week ago, I met with Brent alone in his office. Speaking to him has become so damn difficult. I kept stumbling over my words like a nervous schoolgirl. "Sir... I'm worried because I'm about to have my... well... I mean, it's that time and... I don't want to risk getting..."

He held his hand up, silencing my futile stammering. "Ruth, are you trying to tell me that you're about to have your period?"

My face glowed bright red. "Y...yes, sir."

"Don't you wear tampons?"

Just talking about this topic with him was crushing my very soul, but I had to try. I shook my head. "No, sir. I've always worn pads... I just... I was hoping..."

I could see the gentle humor in his smile, and once again I considered jumping out of his window to my death. It didn't matter that the glass was reinforced; I would have found a way through. Just when I thought all was lost, he said, "Alright, Ruth. During your time of the month, you can wear your panties with your pad."

At the time, the lightness of the statement surprised me to no end. Hell, it still surprises me. I expected him to toy with me, to make me beg, but he behaved with so much kindness. I turned to go, but his voice stopped me before I reached the door.

"One caveat, though. During that time, you can't wear a bra. And I trust that you'll resume our normal arrangement at the appropriate time? Without micromanagement?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded and exited the room.

Going an entire week without a bra has been incredibly stressful. It seems like going around the office with a bare ass and pussy under my skirt would be the most embarrassing, but I couldn't have been more mistaken. Worst of all, I constantly feel like I've forgotten something; that idea has been gnawing at the back of my mind, although I can't make anything of it, to save my life. The feeling has been plaguing me, but I'm so busy trying to cover myself from the prying eyes of my coworkers, I can't focus on anything else.

"Ruth?" A soft voice from behind shakes me from my revelries, and I have to stifle a whimper. It's another woman's voice, and I'd recognize it anywhere. My heart sinks. This is not someone I was hoping to see today.

"Carol," my voice is as friendly as I can manage, but there is a deep sense of building anxiety hidden just below the surface. Looking into my coworker's face, I see her plastered smile and shifty, invasive eyes. "Good morning. Is there something I can help you with?" I cross my arms tighter, trying to hide my breasts a little better, but it is a nearly futile gesture. I feel like I'm only pressing them up and putting them on display even more.

Carol looks around the office to make sure that no one is paying attention. Instantly, the alarm bells begin sounding within my mind, and I swallow hard. She's ensuring that our conversation isn't overheard. Why?

A million things she might say bloom within my mind: 'Hey Ruth, why aren't you wearing a bra? Hey Ruth, It looks like you're sweating; what's up with that? Hey Ruth, why are you looking so nervous? Hey Ruth, every guy in the office told me to tell you that your tits look fantastic right now, and they want you to strip off your shirt too, like the office slut you are, and...'

"Hey Ruth, did you hear?" She leans in close, whispering conspiratorially. "There's some juicy gossip going around! It sounds like there might be some sexy hijinks going on here in the office. On this very floor!"

My pulse spikes immediately, pounding within my ears. It's us! Oh fuck, it's us, and she's just talking about it in third person to tease me. No. That doesn't make any sense. Surely, she can't be talking about me and Brent...? If it was me, wouldn't everything have come out already, and I'd be in jail? Oh God, please! No, wait... calm down... if she's telling me about it, that means she doesn't suspect me. Right? Everyone else might know about us, I have no idea - but at least Carol hasn't found me out yet. I pray that this logic is sound, but my head is spinning.

Somehow, I keep my voice even. "Oh, that's interesting. What did you hear?"

Her voice drops even quieter. "I heard that someone found a pair of panties in the supply room! Somebody hid them under one of the storage shelves! How scandalous!"

MY PANTIES!!! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!!! Oh God! Oh sweet Lord in Heaven, why!? How could I forget about my panties? I removed them before Brent finger fucked me, and I abandoned them because of the fire drill! I hadn't thought about them all this time! How!? How could I have possibly forgotten such an important thing? It's true, Brent's sexual advances have left me in a... distracted... state of mind. But I can't believe I would make such a grievous mistake! I'm such a fucking idiot!

I don't know what expression is plastered on my face, but Carol is staring intently into my eyes, seeking a response. In this moment, there is only one possible course of action I can take to save myself from complete ruin. A typhoon of emotions is buffeting my poor psyche, so I have to drown out my genuine feelings with something else, and it has to stand out enough to hide the legitimate horror which wracks my thoughts.

A loud, playful laugh slips from my lips. I place a hand over my mouth to stifle the noise. It is forced - so incredibly forced - but it's the best I can do. Somehow it actually sounds natural to my ears, although I have no clue how I manage that. I think my blood pressure is so high that the vessels in my eyes might burst; nevertheless, I continue to giggle. If I was hearing about this for the first time, I'd find it hysterical. It's hilarious even now, what an insane joke my life has become.

Allowing my chuckle to fade, I ask the question that has been threatening to explode from my brain ever since I heard the news. "Any idea whose it could be?"

Carol shakes her head - thank God! - and I resist the urge to sigh with relief. "I don't know, but I have some theories. Brandy's kinda skanky, don't you think?"

Brandy has a reputation as a skank? I honestly had no idea. She always seemed like a normal, decent employee to me. To be fair though, I have always minded my own business at the office, and I've ignored the gossip as much as possible. But that is a luxury I can no longer afford. Let the backstabbing begin. "Oooh, she's a slut then? So you think it could be her?"

Carol nods gleefully. "Or maybe it was Vanessa. I could definitely see her getting into some sexy shenanigans in the stockroom, couldn't you?"

Within the depths of my soul, I feel like a complete slime right now, but my sense of self-preservation supersedes all that. "Probably! I know she's always seemed like the kinda girl who is... you know... kinda easy. I could absolutely see her doing something like that." I'm so sorry, Vanessa!

She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Now the only question which remains is, who is she seeing? Who put her up to this? Personally, I think-"

"Excuse me, ladies. I don't mean to interrupt." Brent is standing behind Carol, and she turns to face him.

"Oh Brent, how is it going, sir?" Carol's voice raises an octave with genuine excitement. Why is she so happy to see him? Does... does she have a thing for Brent? I can see him gazing at her with the same cool, unreadable expression he always wears.

"I'm doing fine, Carol. I heard that your dog had puppies this weekend. Congratulations."

Carol squeals with girlish excitement and pulls her phone out of her dress pants' pocket and begins scrolling through photos to show him. The two continue discussing the topic, and they thankfully seem to momentarily forget that I'm here. For the first time, I realize how close she is standing to him. She's practically smothering him as they talk. He hasn't leaned in, but he isn't backing away either.

A maddening concept materializes within my mind. Does Carol have a flame for Brent? I've honestly never kept up with the office drama. It always seemed beneath me somehow. Yet here I find myself, deep in it - all the way at the bottom, I suppose. Oh, how far my life has sunk. A sudden vivid image pops in my brain of my escapade with Brent in the stockroom; except now, he's doing it with Carol.

In my mind's eye, she leans against his body, panting wildly as he drives his fingers inside her. Unlike me, she gives herself over to the act immediately, and they want each other so badly. She begins begging him for more, which he instantly grants. Their bodies press tightly together, and I can sense their growing heat. She's just like me in this instant, except she's infinitely more willing. He didn't have to coerce her into this. Carol wants him so desperately, and it's no surprise when she drops to her knees and unzips his pants-

I forcibly shake my head in an attempt to banish these thoughts. I'm so stupid! Brent isn't fucking every single girl in the office. Is he? The thought fills me with horror. If he had the opportunity, would he extend his reach beyond just me? I realize that I have no idea. We've never really spoken on the topic. I know that he's single, but if he's capable of using me this way, could he do it to other girls too?

The thought that he might be treating other women how he treats me... that very idea fills me with a dread that I can't fully comprehend. I never asked for his attention or his sexual interest, and yet now that I have it, a strange part of me wants to keep him for myself. Fuck. Why should I care? I shouldn't, and yet I can't deny that I do.

Brent raises a hand, and Carol stops babbling about her stupid dogs. "I'm sorry to stop you there, but I actually have some important matters that need attending."

That's right, Carol. Shut up about your dogs, you stupid bitch. The thought streaks through my mind, surprising me to no end. I've never had this kind of animosity for her before. What's gotten into me?

"Oh, I'll have to catch you later on and tell you more about Gypsy! She's my favorite one of the litter!"

Brent smiles and nods noncommittally, turning his attention to me. "I need to see you in my office momentarily when you get a free second. Thanks again for showing me those pictures, Carol. They were very cute." He turns and heads back to his office, offering a few friendly words of greeting to other employees as he walks.

Carol beams at him with an expression that I am suddenly interpreting as 'fuck-me-eyes'. Maybe I'm just paranoid. I know I shouldn't care, but damn it... something inside tells me that she's dying to fuck him. That slut. Smiling with a devious little grin, she turns back to me. "You don't think Brent could be involved with the work-place sex scandal, do you, Ruth?"

I scream internally, attempting to keep my face as neutral as possible. "I really don't think so, Carol. He doesn't strike me as that kind of guy." I can feel the walls closing in around me.

She shrugs. "Yeah, you're probably right. He seems too well balanced for stuff like that. But part of me sort of wishes he would cut loose. I don't need to tell you that he's a pretty hot piece of ass, now do I?"

I can feel my brain lurch. She doesn't need to tell me? Why not!? Does she think that I already know? If she thinks that I know, that means that I must have unique knowledge. Intimate knowledge! If I have intimate knowledge, then that means that I must have had a chance to get to know Brent better than the rest of the office... No, please! Anything but that...!

"I mean, you have eyes," she finishes the thought, and I let out an audible sigh.

I stand to my feet and step away from my desk. My brain is practically spinning. "I need to use the restroom. It was good talking to you again, Carol." I let the lie slip out easily.

Practically scurrying to the ladies' room, I enter one of the stalls. With a relieved sigh, I lower my panties, something that seems almost strange after hardly wearing them in this office for such a long time. After I relieve myself, I look down at the used pad still stuck in place to the fabric between my calves. I can see the very sight I've been dreading. The liner is perfectly clean. No blood. No residue at all. Fuck.

I roll off some toilet paper and wipe. Nothing. Damn it. Normally I'd be relieved, but my current situation is anything but normal. I have a critical decision to make. I can pull up my underwear, with the pad still in place, and pretend I don't know that my period is over, or I can leave them off, like Brent wants.

'Without micromanagement,' he told me, and I agreed to it. I stare off into space as I ponder the options. It isn't fair that I have to wear no panties and no bra! That's just not right! But I didn't think to bring a spare bra, and even if I did, it might be too conspicuous to put it on. There is no good option in this scenario... but by this point, I have learned better than to try to deceive my boss. He can read every expression on my face, and if I tried to trick him, I'd pay for it. Better to wear no undergarments at all.

Shaking my head with frustration, I decide to take one extra precaution. I reach into my purse next to my pads and pull out the small packet of wet wipes. I make sure to clean myself extra well down below. I'll have absolutely no insurance going forward, so I need to cover my bases now.

Just as I figured, the wipe is perfectly clean. Damn it, I should have brought a spare bra. Oh well, there's no sense lamenting over it now. What's done is done. I step from the bathroom, again subconsciously feeling all eyes fall on me as I step through the door. By now, I know for certain that the majority of it is paranoia, but it isn't something I can just turn off.

I have no idea what Brent has planned for me, but I need to get it over with. I move swiftly to his office, and as I step inside of his door once again, closing it behind me, I can feel my pulse accelerating. I try to force myself to relax, but my body refuses to comply. The events of the past month continue to taunt me, even as I strive to press them out of my head.

I can feel my resolve beginning to weaken as I simply look into his intense, dominant face. There is a cold look of determination, but it is warmed by an inkling of... is it lust? Desire? I want that to be true and not true simultaneously.

Internally, I fight to keep myself strong. His eyes are boring into me, but I know that I've kept his rules - all of them - so I shouldn't have anything to fear... and yet, somehow, I do. Part of me is terrified of where this conversation might progress. Maybe he'll just ask me if I'm honoring our agreement, and when I tell him that I am, he'll let me go. That's what I want, and yet it isn't. Fuck. I can't even make up my mind on this simple matter.

"Sir, you, uhh, you wanted to see me?" My breathing struggles to maintain a normal rhythm. My hands hang by my side.

Brent stares at me with an expression that I can't read. What is he thinking right now? "Ruth, I wanted to commend you. Last Friday, you caught that addressing error with the Waldrop account."

I blink in confusion. Out of all the things I expected from him, this was not on the list. "The Waldrop...? Oh, yes, sir, I just noticed that there was an inconsistency with the new listed address when compared to the previous one. It was nothing, honestly-"

Still gazing at me intently, Brent stands to his feet and the words fade from my lips. He hasn't presented a word of contradiction, and yet I can see that he somehow disagrees with me. I don't understand.

"It wasn't nothing, Ruth. It was an error that would have caused the company a fair amount of embarrassment. As a member of this firm, it would have been embarrassing to me directly." He steps away from his desk and closes the distance between us. "Your careful eye for detail saved me from a great deal of trouble, and I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it."

As he draws near, I look down at my shoes. I've been living under his gaze for so long now; I'm always prepared for his scolding, for his demands, and even for his soft abuse. Yet, within this moment, I am somehow unprepared for his praise.

"Thank... thank you, sir." The words are barely audible.

"You're welcome." Even without looking up, I can hear his smile through his words. "You know that I've been harsh with you for your indiscretions, but I also want to be fair."

"Sir, I..." words are failing me.

"I want to reward you for your studiousness," he says, as he places a hand on my shoulder. "But first I need to make sure that all other matters are properly tended to first." His hand runs down my arm in a casual gesture that carries so much weight. Sure, under normal circumstances, this might be considered sexual harassment, but we're far beyond that point.

Trembling slightly, I swallow hard. I know that I'm obeying his directives to the letter, and yet, somehow, I am terrified that I've forgotten something. Discreetly, I shift my hips, rubbing my thighs together to ensure that my panties are still absent. It's an absolutely insane reaction - of course my panties are still off - but a psychotic portion of my mind assures me that they've magically reappeared just to get me in trouble.

I feel the reassuring sensation of skin on skin, and I let out a shaky sigh; I'm not wearing any undergarments at all right now. I never thought that realization could bring me such relief. Beneath my blouse and my cami, my nipples feel so hard. I don't know if it's the room's temperature or something else; but deep down, I know that the room isn't even that cold. Nevertheless, I shiver.

"First, a question." Brent's calm voice is still full of terrifying authority, but I steel myself. I have nothing to fear. "Are you still on your period?"

The question is not an accusation, and yet somehow, I react as if it is. "No, Brent. I'm not... I bled a tiny bit last night, but nothing now."

I can tell that he's pondering the information, as he says, "You're still not wearing a bra, Ruth. I thought we agreed that as soon as your period ended, you'd go back to our normal agreement without micromanagement." His voice is calm and matter-of-fact. He isn't accusing me, but I know that he will judge me based on my response.