Five Days is one of 23 stories collected in my e-book Obey The Rules – Stories of Degrading Boundaries, available for only $3.99 USD from my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)


It was only a little indiscretion – some company money paid to a contractor who was a friend of a friend, without a valid request for tender – but it would be enough to get her fired, and maybe prosecuted.

Harris knew that, and while he didn’t *really* want to see Valentina fired – she was a talented manager – on the other hand, he wouldn’t be too sad if she was.

“If I found this,” he told her, visiting her in her office after work hours on a Friday, “others can too. It’ll be the end of your career.” He looked his attractive colleague up and down. “Or… I could vanish the evidence I found. You’d be free and clear.”

She frowned. “What do you want?” she asked bluntly.

“Your subordinates hate you, you know,” he told her. “They call you the Bitch-Cunt Pig. They make these little noises when you’re about to arrive in the morning to let each other know you’re coming – like this.” He made a snuffling, moaning noise, halfway between the snort of a pig and the wail of an orgasming woman.

Valentina’s face coloured with humiliation. “I’m a tough manager. I get results. That doesn’t always mean making employees happy. What’s your point?”

“Well, I just thought that it would be nice to give them a chance to learn that they’re right,” laughed Harris. “Just a chance, mind you. A game, if you like. Do you want to play?”

Valentina had no choice. She silently waited for him to explain.

“Next week,” said Harris. “Five days. Each day you’re going to arrive at your desk and find a task waiting for you. You’re going to do that task right here, in your office, with your door open, for as much of the day as you feel you can get away with. You can stop at any time, if you feel someone’s about to walk in on you. But I’ll put cameras in the office, and whenever you stop your task, a timer will start counting up. If the timer gets to two hours before it’s home time, you lose, and I forward my evidence to the senior partners.”

“What kind of tasks?” asked Valentina suspiciously.

“You’ll see on Monday,” he told her. “The first task will be on your desk. Whether you do it or not is up to you.”


When she came in on Monday, there was a new LED clock on her desk. It read “00:00” in glowing red numerals. 

Also, there was a piece of paper. It read, “Tits exposed. Panties around your ankles.”

Immediately, the clock ticked over to “00:01”.

Valentina blushed. She looked around, helplessly. She hadn’t thought Harris was serious. Her office was a glass-walled room at the end of an open-plan workspace filled with her subordinates. There were blinds, and when you closed them – as she immediately did – you couldn’t see into her office unless you were at the door, and the only reason to come to the door was if you intended to come into the room – it wasn’t on the way to anywhere. Most of the time, nobody could see her.

Most of the time.

The clock ticked over to “00:02”.

Valentina flushed, and made a decision. She reached under her skirt and pulled her white panties down her legs until they were collected around her ankles. Then she pulled up her shirt and bra to expose her tits, and sat down at her desk.

Immediately, the clock stopped counting.

She felt humiliated. She couldn’t believe she was at work with her tits exposed. She wanted to cover herself – in fact, she instinctively brought her hands up to cover her bare fuckbags, but immediately the clock counted to “00:03”, so she removed them again. She felt like such a whore.

Nobody could see her – until they came into her office. And with her blinds closed, she realised she couldn’t see anyone approaching until they were already in the doorway.

She turned on her computer and tried to work, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her whole body was straining for the sound of approaching footsteps, to give her enough time to cover her tits. Again and again, she was sure someone was approaching, and yanked down her shirt – only for no one to appear, and the clock to inexorably start counting again.

A few times a subordinate *did* come to her with a question. Each time she was lucky, and managed to cover herself in time – although one time only by a fraction of a second. She was sure the clerk who had come to give her a file had seen her hurriedly pull down her shirt. She flushed crimson as she took the file from him, unable to meet his gaze, pinned to her seat lest standing draw attention to the panties around her ankles.

And the thing was, the longer the day went on, the wetter and more aroused she got. This was humiliating all by itself. She’d never suspected she might be aroused by risk and shame – but apparently she was. Her pussy was proving her to be a total whore, and she hated it so passionately that when she finally got through the day – with only 00:50 on the clock – she went straight to her bedroom, spread her legs, and spanked herself viciously in her pussy until she orgasmed from the pain.

The next day, on Tuesday, there was a vibrator on her desk. The note read “in your pussy and switched on”.

She snatched up the vibrator, blushing. Had anyone seen it before she arrived? She was grateful she didn’t have to bare her tits today, though not thrilled by the thick plastic phallus. She pulled down her panties and worked it carefully into her pussy – it felt good – and then flicked the switch at its base.

Immediately, she gasped, and flicked it back off again. It was loud! The buzzing was clearly audible throughout the room – and possibly from outside. 

Silently, the clock counted upwards – “00:04”.

She rummaged in her bag and brought out her cold-weather jumper. She sat on her chair, stuffed the jumper between her legs, and reactivated the dildo. The jumper muffled it a little, but not much. Anyone in the room could definitely hear it. She clamped her legs together as hard as she could and tried to work.

Turning the vibrator off when people were coming turned out to be harder than covering her tits, because it involved her reaching for her pussy and feeling for the switch. The first two men who visited her office caught her with her hand still between her legs – although thankfully with the vibrator deactivated. Neither commented, but both looked at her oddly. When the third visited, asking her for some monthly stats, she almost screamed, because the constant stimulation of her cunt all day had almost brought her to orgasm, and she had been forced to shut the device off just as she would have cum. She nodded stupidly through her visitor’s questions, got rid of him as soon as possible, and eagerly reactivated the vibrator as soon as he was gone.

Ten minutes later, she was once again so close to an orgasm that she didn’t even notice her most hated subordinate, Trevor, enter her office. When he cleared his throat, she looked up in horror. She knew her face was flushed, her lips parted, her nipples erect. She knew she smelt of sex. And she knew the loud humming between her legs was clearly audible.

“Are you okay, Val?” asked Trevor, clearly astonished.

“I’m – I’m – – -” said Val, and then, to her immense horror and humiliation, she orgasmed, making a little squeaking slutty moan, doubling over, gripping the edge of her desk in her hands, and bucking her hips uncontrollably in her chair. She felt herself squirt into the crotch of her dress, and then felt the ejaculate pool in a warm puddle under her ass.

Trevor laughed in disbelief, and then made that little pig-slut noise Harris had described. Val blushed even deeper, unable to respond, wanting to die of shame, the vibrator still buzzing loudly within her.

“I’ll just leave you alone then,” said Trevor, backing out, grinning broadly.

When he was gone, Valentina pulled the dildo out of her pussy and turned it off – ignoring the clock beginning to count up – and used her jumper to dry her crotch and the seat. She went back to work without the dildo in her until the clock read “01:30”, and then, reluctantly, put it back inside her and reactivated.

Blessedly, no one bothered her for the afternoon, and she orgasmed again just before home time.

On Wednesday, there was a second dildo. The note read, “Cunt and ass, activated. No clothes below the waist.”

Tears of humiliation forming, Valentina worked the dildos into her anus and pussy and activated them. As she had feared, the new dildo was as loud as the old one. She pulled off her panties and skirt and sat in her desk chair, pulling it right up to the desk to cover herself as best as possible.

There was really no way, she discovered, to turn off the anal dildo in a hurry. After nearly getting caught twisting in her seat to reach her ass as a subordinate approached, she resigned herself to receiving her occasional visitors with the devices buzzing away loudly in her exposed holes. Her subordinates uniformly wore contemptuous smirks as they spoke to her – Trevor had clearly told them what he had seen – and their visits were more numerous now. Many openly stared at where her crotch would be, if the desk were not in the way.

She orgasmed in front of three different subordinates.

On day four, there was only one dildo – but also a baby’s pacifier. The note said, “Hair in pigtails, vibrator in ass, dummy in mouth, naked from the waist down, masturbating.”

There was no hiding this new instruction. Over the day, each of her subordinates filed in multiple times to view her new look and openly laugh at her. For the first half of the day she at least stopped masturbating and pulled the pacifier out when men walked in – but at lunch, Trevor pulled a desk into the room and announced his intention to work alongside her for the afternoon. As the clock ticked up to “01:50”, Valentina, sobbing, stuck the pacifier back in her mouth and resumed rubbing her pussy. 

Trevor got up, walked over to her, and deliberately pulled her chair away from her desk so he could see her pussy. She kept masturbating, looking up at him for mercy.

His only mercy was to take out his cock, point it at her face, and masturbate to ejaculation, bathing her eyes, cheeks, hair and lips in his cum. Then he returned to his desk and resumed his work, leaving her to keep furiously masturbating to another humiliating orgasm.

On Friday, at 9 am, there were no vibrators. Instead there was a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold, a gag, and three clothes pegs. The note said: “Pegs on both nipples and your clit. Blindfold on, gag on. Nude. Arms cuffed to your desk, ass facing door, bent at the waist, legs spread.”

Slowly, fearfully, she followed the instructions. She realised once she was cuffed that she had no key for them. She hoped Harris would uncuff her at 5 pm if she passed.

By 9.30 am, nothing had happened except her continued exposure, not knowing who might have seen her, and as a result she was dripping wet.

At 9.45, she heard the sound of someone unzipping a fly behind her, and a moment later the first cock pushed its way into her wet cunt.

Over the course of the day, her pussy and anus were penetrated a total of 24 times – far more than the number of employees she supervised. Some fucked her gently, and it felt good. Some fucked her roughly, and that was better. The pegs on her nipples and clit hurt, but it was a good hurt, and every couple of hours an anonymous hand would remove them, listen to her scream as the blood rushed back into her abused flesh, and then replace them. By lunch, semen was dripping freely from both holes onto the carpet of her office. 

By 3 pm she had been thinking of next week, of going back to trying to do her job normally, but with all her subordinates looking at her, knowing about today. She couldn’t bear it. Not just the humiliation of seeing their looks… but also the need to be normal, to not bare her tits, to not have a vibrator in her pussy all day. She had orgasmed harder and more often this week than ever before in her life.

Harris did come for her at five. She begged him to use all of her holes, and when he was done, she told him she was tendering her resignation, and asked him if he would like to have a new working relationship with her… As her pimp?


If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love my e-book A Woman’s Work – Stories of Workplace Degradation, available for only $3.99 USD from my creator site. Your purchase supports me to continue creating new, free content! (Click here to view in store.)


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