Pencil Skirt [F20sM30s] [dubcon, bdsm, kink, toys, public, office, humil]

I sit down at my small desk, open my laptop, plug it in, and get signed on. Another day in hell. Two months ago I graduated undergrad and got offered an internship at the highest paying law firm in the city; Mortson and Co. So lucky! Unfortunately, the job was unpaid. They did not inform me of this. They just told me it was an in, and my favorite professor put in a great word for me. In a few years, I could come back here with the great memory of how hard of a worker I was, and get the best law job in the city! I just had to be their office bitch a little longer.

Not just the office bitch, HIS office bitch.

Ryan Mortson is the head of the office, and I’m his “interning assistant.” He pitched the job as a chance to get up close and personal with cases, look at legal documents, and even help him analyze cases. Of course, I jumped at the chance, especially after Professor Stephens put in a good word. I wondered she was saving my ass! Turns out the “interning assistant” is just the girl at the tiny desk outside his office, who gets coffee and makes memorandums for the staff on big case wins. I haven’t seen a single case file since I got here.

Not only has that been a disappointment, but the guy also has a massive misogynist thing going on. He makes all the women wear pencil skirts, I’ve seen him send women HOME if they wear pants to the office. Even slacks! He also requires heels of at least three inches, some nerve! Heels are the bane of my existence, but I got around it with a little legal loophole: platform heels. He just said heel, not stiletto.

I tell myself every day as I tuck in for bed, that one day I’ll run Mortson and Co. If I can endure his shit down, I’ll give the whole company a run for their money. I can connect dots, I at all times discover good evidence, and I at all times trust my clients. Well, fictional clients from undergrad, but I still do well! I managed to win the case for Jafar, the woman kidnapping, person killing, and throne-stealing piece of shit from Aladdin! (Let’s just say, the prince of thieves had an accomplice to frame Jafar, and I found proof.)

Today would be different. I would not sit at my desk and be idle, today I get my hands in a case. If I’m not getting paid, I at least need experience! I open up Mortson and I’s joint calendar on Chrome and check our meeting schedule for the day. We have a meeting with a client at noon. I have about one hour to do my research.

Although I am an intern, Mortson tasks me with making the case memo for the team, finding any public documents on the case, and looking into the client’s background as much as is publicly available. I settle into my chair, sip my mocha cappuccino I picked up on my way here, and start to dig into the case online.

~

“Janine?” I look up, Mortson is standing at my tiny desk looking down at me. I panic, face fluttering.

“Yes sir?” I ask quickly, almost standing in fear but keeping myself sitting. His stare is terrifying sometimes. So domineering.

“Where is the Scott case Memo?” I blink and look down. It’s 5 till noon. I was supposed to have this done forever ago, but I got lost reading up on case details. This case is so interesting, and I need to be in on it!

“I apologize, sir, there were more public records than I expected. This case has been going on for a while, looks like we are just her new lawyers. Could I go in and give the memo verbally to the team, then type it up and send it out later?” He looks at me for a moment, pondering the question.

“Grab your laptop, meet us in boardroom C. Don’t fail me, Janine.” And with that, he leaves. I take a deep breath, stand from my desk, and roll my tiny office chair away. The plastic creaks as I stand, and I tuck my laptop under my arm. I leave my coffee, it will just give me something to fidget with and make me look ill-informed.

As I enter the board room, five men and one woman look up at me. The woman is the resident case secretary, she is only there to make notes about conversations for future reference. The men are Co-Counselors to Mortson, and they do every high-profile case with him. From what I read, he will need them.

I sit down at the long table and type a few case details in a document so I don’t forget them as I present the case. “Okay everyone, Ms. Tackett didn’t have a chance to write the memo before our clients arrived, so she will summarize what she had learned of the case so far while Mr. Jones goes and waits in the lobby for the client. Ms. Tacket will type one and email it at a later date. She informed me the case has been public for quite some time, so there must be good details in her research. Ms. Tackett, if you would?”

I stand carefully, unwrinkle my skirt and start to explain the case. It’s a high-stakes divorce case for a 45-year-old woman. She and her husband owned a yacht club and no one can decide who gets the estate. The two have destroyed each other in the media over the years, and there are multiple accusations of cheating or corruption. Because of this, a short-term divorce has taken two years and six law teams. We are her last hope to get justice.

As I finish up, Mortson dismisses me with a “Finish that memo and send it to the team please, Ms. Tackett.” I nod and head back to my tiny desk. The thrill of helping with a case was so fun, but I won’t get to help anymore. I start typing up the team memo when a postal worker stops in front of my desk.

“Where is Mr. Ryan Mortson?” He asks.

“He’s in a meeting, I can put that on his desk!” I offer a hand.

“Okay, can you sign? Please be sure no one else sees this, it’s confidential information.” The man requests.

“Of course. I’m his secretary, I will make sure no one touches it and he sees it right away.” I sign, and the man disappears. I tuck it under my laptop, type the last words of the memo, and hit send. Done with that, now I should probably take this into his office.

I step inside his office and the aroma of mahogany hits my nose. It’s such a lovely smell, it’s the only reason I like coming in here. The wood door clasps shut behind me, and I’m alone with the smooth jazz Mortson plays while he works. I walk to the back of his desk and begin to sit the file down when I notice it was “Scott Vs. Wilson” on the cover. That’s the case we were just looking at. It also says “financial records and PI photos.” Oh, so this just got more interesting. Before I know it, I’m bending down the metal flaps and pulling documents out, spreading them around his desk. There is so much to unpack, but all my energy lands on one piece of paperwork: the deed. I start reading the details, flipping and carefully looking through every line, just as my eyes see a photo on the desk that changes everything.

I don’t know how long I’m looking, but suddenly the door behind me opens. I spin around, documents in my hands, and see Mortson standing in the doorway. The door clasps behind him. We are alone in his dim office. I feel fear shoot down my spine.

“Mr. Mortson, I’m sorry I-”

“Are those the classified Scott case files?” I start to open my mouth “The classified files addressed to me, and only me, open on my desk and in your hands?” I stop breathing. That’s a felony, Janine. A goddamn felony.

“Sir I, please-” He cuts me off, abruptly coming over and shoving me into the corner of his desk. I feel my throat tightening. He’s gonna kill me for this.

“Why would open something addressed to me, Ms. Tackett?” He asks again, colder this time.

“Sir please, I found a connection here that changes everything I just-” he slams his hand on the desk just behind my ass, I whimper and somewhat crawl onto the desk backward to avoid his wrath.

“Janine Tackett this is easy grounds for dismissal, and so help me god if anyone finds out this firm is under so much legal action-”

“Mr. Wilson put his lawyer on the deed, and his lawyer is his girlfriend who broke the two of them up in the first place!” I squeak out, making Mortson stop his tirade in my face. He pulls back.

“Excuse me?” He asks.

“I-I-It’s in the files, sir. I did so much digging I needed to know more, and when I realized it was about this case I looked and couldn’t stop. The deed to their mansion? The only person on the deed is “Wilson.” But then the lawyer and Mr. Wilson started having an affair, you can see that in the photos provided by Ms. Scott’s PI. You wouldn’t know who it was based on the pictures, because you can’t see her face. But I remember finding an article about how Mr. Wilson pays his lawyer in Lubittons, so it only makes sense that the woman in this photo with red bottoms is the lawyer. If that’s the case, the lawyer is the one to blame for everything and probably write in extra clauses to make sure everything would be tied while up she attempted to live rent-free in Wilson’s home, the house from which Mr. Wilson just got evicted. Seemingly this was because of backpay, but looking at this photo that’s the lawyers’ car in the parking lot of the home. She played him to keep the house.” I am breathless after the last detail. Mortson stands straight.

“Ms. Scott never had money after leaving her husband, she just wanted compensation. So until now, her lawyers have been mid-level, but no lawyer will throw a case, they will however drop a client if convinced it’s not a good case. I bet Mr. Wilson’s lawyer paid them off hoping Ms. Scott would never be able to afford a real lawyer so the house would stay tied up and she could live there.” I nod in agreement.

“Exactly my thoughts, so all you need to do in court is prove that the lawyer is living in the home and there was no eviction due to backpay, then prove that as a Wilson, Scott should get her half of the home property in restitution at least. The club doesn’t have paperwork, but I think Ms. Scott would settle for half of their 3 million dollar estate. Especially if the lawyers’ truth could get out if not.” I add. He leans up, walks to the other side of the desk, collects papers, and tucks them into the envelope. He seals it but stops before exiting.

“If this proves to be helpful, I will not turn you in for tampering and mail fraud.” I sigh, trusting my evaluation of the case and knowing I’m all good. “However, you must still be punished for what you’ve done. Come into my office at 7 pm tonight. We will discuss your punishment then.” And with that, he leaves. I feel myself shaking. Will he fire me? Tell my professors? Ban me from the offices forever?

~

The rest of the day was spent with me on edge. I swear Mortson was doing everything efficient to make me flutter and panic. He called me into the board room, used a scary voice, but just asked for a few lattes. He came by me at the copier and insisted I was doing things wrong. During lunch, he entered the lunch area, walked up behind me, and said my skirt was too short today and to pull it down. I said yes sir but waited until he left to do it. It was so nerve-wracking having him watch my every move, knowing I was in deep shit. I’m sitting at my desk typing out some memos for other lawyers when walking up to my desk. “Ms. Tackett, please make sure no one is here for my 7 pm meeting. It’s a private client who wishes to not be disturbed, is that clear? Just me and the attendee.” I gulp. What is he gonna do to me that he doesn’t want other people around for?!

“Yes Mr. Mortson sir. I will be sure.” I say back to him, watching him go into his office and slam the door behind him. I’m shaking now, do I go home and never come back? Or endure the punishment? Should I record the interaction, this is a one-party state, and I’m allowed to do that. Would he do something bad to me? Also, I’m in the wrong, would recording even be worth my while?

Before I can process, Ms. James, the case secretary says goodbye to me as she opens the elevator. I and Mortson are alone now. I hear my heart beating in my chest, my lungs screaming, and my head pounding. I’m terrified. I pack up my belongings, place them in my chair, and head over to his door. I take a deep breath, press record on my phone (because it makes me feel a little safer), and step into his office. The overhead lights are off, smooth jazz is playing, and all his lamps are on. He works like this at night, but there’s still a peak of the sun behind the clouds in the distance.

“Mr. Mortson,” I say softly. He’s sitting in his chair, back to me, dress jacket draped over the back of his chair. My heart is still racing. “How can I make it up to you sir? I want to be a good lawyer one day, and I know opening the folder was wrong, but I had to see more details and I-” his hand raising cuts me off.

“What you found today is not going to help our case.” My heart drops to my feet. My career is over. “It won us the case.” I blink.

“I’m sorry, won?” I ask softly.

“Yes, Ms. Tackett. We called Wilson’s lawyer with a counter-proposal for the divorce. She got defensive, then said we could take her to court whenever. However, when I mentioned the details you caught, she was ready to split the cost of the home with Scott. We won the case thanks to you, Ms. Tackett.” I’m dumbfounded. “I think you do have an excellent law future ahead of you, but only if the right people show you the way.” I nod, and he turns around to face me. He props his head up on his hands and looks at me, his face is so dark. His face shape is a string and sculpted. I’ve never noticed with the fluorescents on. “Ms. Tackett, I have a proposal for you. Because I cannot allow an employee to get away with doing something like you did. I will need to let you go.” My heart drops again, I feel tears well up. “However, if you want to stay, you must be punished how I see fit. And it’s not a way most people would be okay with.” He explains.

“Can you tell me what that is before I decide?” He chuckles.

“Young Lawyers, always checking the fine print. I could tell you, but just remember, you committed a felony earlier today.” I gulp, and nod at him. He’s telling me what he says cannot be shared, because he has blackmail. “You either leave Mortson and Co forever, never to return. Or you become my office sex slave. You’d come into my office and do whatever I need whenever I need you to. I will be the only person touching you in the office, and it will not go outside the office building. Your pay is not connected to this, nor is your actual job. Those things will stay the same, actual I will likely rope you into more cases as you proved useful in the Scott case. I am interested in BDSM, rope bondage, wax play, pain, humiliation, sensations, watersports, and secret public play with you, and will call you humiliating names sometimes. If a particular thing is off the list, we can negotiate that now. Otherwise, you pack your desk and never return, but I also never tell your secrets and you do not tell mine.” My heart is beating loud now. I don’t have a boyfriend at home, and I have been wanting to discover someone to have sex with, but BDSM was not something I was expecting to get into this quickly. I’d seen it but never tried it.

“And what happens if you do something I do not like? Do I have to leave the office for good?” I ask.

“If you will still be my general sex slave, you may stay. But I think you will enjoy most of the things I do for you. I thrive off giving others pleasure, and controlling others.” He explains.

“And if I get a partner?” I ask.

“No one can know about this, I mean do you want people to know you’re a whore who sleeps with her boss to keep her job?” I blush and look down. “That’s what I thought. Your partners cannot know, but what you do outside this building is under your control. You’re just my office slut. Which option do you choose? Office whore, or unemployed?” I think through my options. If it’s too much, I can still quit and be fine. But I want to stay here, and he’s offering to let me sit in and work on cases. Can I refuse?

“You said things can be negotiated now?” I ask softly.

“Yes, is there something that is a limit for you you want off the table?” He asks.

“I cannot do urine,” I say quickly, thinking of my baby sister wetting our bed when we were younger. “I also will not be a home wrecker,” I add.

“Luckily for you, I am not married. You may look that up in our documentation history if you would like, I am an open book. I would not ask you to do that anyways. Watersports can be taken off the table, it’s not my proffered one anyways.” I nod. “So, is this a deal?” I think. Am I whoring myself out for a job?

“Could I try, to make sure I am comfortable with this before I decide?” I ask.

“You may, just remember the base deal stands. You helped with the case, and I will not tell your secrets if you do not tell mine. Don’t risk your career by opening your mouth to your girlfriends.” I shake my head.

“My career is the most important thing to me. I would never risk that.” He nods and stands up, pulling a client chair from the corner. It’s plush and bouncy, I sat in it for my interview.

“I knew you’d be a good lawyer just with how you fought at our interview for the job. I have a lot of faith in you, and I want badly to keep you in this office. But breaking rules cannot be tolerated. Take off your panties and unbutton your top to show off your breasts. Then have a seat in this chair.” I do as instructed, revealing my lacey bra in the light of the lamps and tossing my panties to the floor. I’m left in a pencil skirt and nothing underneath it. “I’m going to give you an all-around experience. Today, and in the future, if something is too painful or upsets you, say ‘red’ and it will stop. We can re-negotiate as we need in the future. Do you understand, slut?” I nod. “I need verbal verification every time I ask if you understand, slut.” He says quickly.

“Yes, I understand Mr.-”

“Call me sir. I am your sir.” I nod.

“I understand sir.” I agree. He rummages through a door in his desk and pulls out a metal bin. I’ve never seen him get items from this drawer, it’s at all times locked. I assumed it was case files.

“Good sluts shouldn’t see what’s coming their way, so put this on to blindfold yourself” He hands me a tie from his desk, the one he had on earlier I think. I do as I’m told, tying it behind my head. The room is now dark. “I’m going to touch your hands.” He grabs them and places them on the arms of the chair. “Do not move your hands, or you will be in lots of trouble, little slut.”

“Yes sir,” I say softly. I suppose he is done with polite formalities because he pulls open my top and pulls each of my breasts out of the bra I am wearing. They are sitting on top of the cups, the pressure pushing up on them making my nipples ache. That ache intensifies when something bites down on one of my nipples, I cry out and it happens to the other. I’ve never had my nipples played with, all my boyfriends just wanted to cum and move on. I’m not sure if I’ve ever even had an orgasm.

“Open your mouth.” He says demandingly and I do so. A cold chain is placed in my mouth. “Bite down on it.” I do so. “If you move your head, you’ll pull on your nipple clamps. Try it for me.” I pull my head back and immediately feel stinging on my nipples, I drop the chain as I cry out. He places the chain back in my mouth. “Don’t drop that chain until I tell you you can,” I mumble a yes sir around the chain, and he giggles. “Separate your legs, slut.” I panic, he’s about to fuck me. Is it my ovulation week? What if I get pregnant? I’m terrified of pregnancy before my career has a chance to start, I cannot lose this career it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I need to be a lawyer. But I cannot ask or I will get in more trouble. “You are still owed punishment for going through my papers, aren’t you slut?” I whimper as he smacks my tit hard. That does however feel better than expected. I nod. What is he gonna do to me?

NSFW: yes


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