Previous: Casual Friday, Act II: "The After Party"

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and does not, in any way, condone sexual assault or violence.

“The First Rule”

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. We’ve all heard that phrase at some point, and probably so often that it’s become ridiculously clichéd. However, at our office, we take it a little more seriously, at least when it comes to Casual Friday.

Management’s view on the whole affair is that knowledge of it ought to be contained via the classic non-disclosure agreement (NDA). After all, it’s a rather unorthodox social experiment that they’re running here — one that has the potential to fail spectacularly if not handled with great care.

Your imagination’s probably running wild with speculation right now. I know mine was, at first:

“Is this place some kind of sex cult? What other weird shit do these guys get up to, anyway?”

And, to a certain extent, you’d be right. I mean, I didn’t even know about Casual Friday until my probation was over. It was just a day that I assumed everyone got off. Well, it turned out that I was right — I was just misinterpreting the term “got off”.

Generally speaking, the people who work here don’t have a problem with this arrangement. The ones who do are usually weeded out when they “graduate” and are presented with the NDA that they need to sign if they want to continue their employment.

However, despite the concerted efforts of management to craft a carefully worded contract, this has not prevented certain, shall we say, issues from arising.

The last time this happened was during my probation, so I didn’t hear about it until I was fully initiated. My buddy George was there to see the whole thing, however, and regaling this rather juicy cautionary tale to the junior employees is one of his favourite pastimes. At this point, I’ve heard it so often that, sometimes, I feel as though I were there, as well.

Randy, one of the more senior employees, while he was initially reticent about signing the contract, was talked into doing so by Linda; his wife, of all people! After all, when you have a family to take care of, you don’t just quit a good job because you have moral qualms about something as harmless as Casual Friday, right?

Not only did his wife talk him into it, but she found the idea absolutely irresistible and wanted to satisfy her own curiosity. Management didn’t anticipate this sort of thing and, while they were initially hesitant, she eventually persuaded them to make an exception for her. And so, for several months, Linda came along, but just to watch — Randy had been very clear about that. However, as she got more comfortable, this was no longer enough for her. About a week after her fourth Casual Friday, she told him that she wanted to participate, as well. From there, things got a bit… awkward.

Later that night, they had an intense argument, after which he stormed out of their house, absolutely fuming. He got in his car, pounded the steering wheel with his fists, screamed at the top of his lungs and then peeled away, headed for his favourite bar, to drown his intense anger and jealousy. One drink led to two, then three, then six and, before he knew it, he had lost count. The rest of the night was a complete blur for him, and he didn’t even remember the cab ride home.

It didn’t take long for news of this indiscretion to make its way through the grapevine. For, you see, when Randy was blackout drunk, before he got kicked out, he let something slip — something that he shouldn’t have. When management got wind of this, Randy was pulled into the conference room for some “Damage Control.” Nobody could make out exactly what they were saying, but they knew it wasn’t anything good, on account of all the shouting.

When Randy left the room, everyone was staring at him. He was as white as a ghost and his walk of shame out the door seemed to last forever. It was later revealed that he had been stuck with a week’s suspension, without pay, followed by another two weeks of janitorial duties. His punishment didn’t end there, however — The Main Event was yet to come.

Three weeks later…

Molly wasn’t just the biggest slut in the office. Her specialty, and her main claim to fame, was her exceptional skill as a dominatrix. Management needed someone to administer the last part of Randy’s punishment, and Molly positively jumped at the chance. In George’s mind, she was a little too enthusiastic. Rapturous, even.

When the day finally came, Molly strolled in, swaggering a great deal more than usual, with two large, wheeled suitcases in tow. George was moving the heavier one for her, being the typical gentleman that he is. He parked it at her desk and then looked around the office, with a giant, shit-eating grin, at all the bewildered faces surrounding him. None of them had any idea of what was about to take place.

A few minutes later, Molly came out of the bathroom and was greeted by gasps and wide eyes, all around the office. She was decked out from head to toe in leather, complete with gloves, six-inch heels and a police cap — all in glossy black. Her top and bottom were adorned with shiny, stainless-steel spikes, which ran all the way from her ankles to her wrists. She had white makeup on her face with black highlights on her lips, eyebrows and eyelids. On the whole, her outfit resembled Morticia Addams but more punk rock.

“George, you wanna do the honours?”

“I’d be happy to.”

George was still standing next to Molly’s heavier suitcase. He laid it down and opened it to reveal a veritable treasure trove of sex toys and other loosely related… items.

He grabbed her riding crop and passed it to her, as if they had rehearsed all this beforehand.

“Hey, Randy!” Molly said, coyly, drawing out the vowel sounds with perfect, musical intonation. She even threw in some vibrato at the end for dramatic effect.

“Uh… yes?”

The initial shock and awe were starting to wear off for Randy, and the realization that his punishment wasn’t over was starting to sink in.

“Come out to play!”

The way Molly said this sounded almost exactly like that one line from “The Warriors”. You know, when the guy clinks the three beer bottles together? Her twisted, quirky sense of humour seemed to have no limits. She held her riding crop with her right hand, tapping the business end on her left palm, while smiling and licking her lips.

Randy muttered sheepishly, secretly praying that he could somehow weasel his way out of this.

“Uh… I don’t really feel like it today.”

Molly slapped the riding crop down loudly on the surface of her desk, demonstrating the full breadth of her alter ego’s depravity.

“Excuse me?! Did I give you the impression that you had a fucking choice here?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Now, get that pathetic, fat ass of yours over here right now!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

The entire office was captivated by this stunning display. Molly cleared her throat and, with her signature authoritative tone, bellowed out her intentions.

“Listen up, everyone! My name, for all those unaware, is Mistress Molly. I will be officiating the proceedings today and, as such, I’m afraid I must begin with some rather… unpleasant news. You see, Randy here has been a very bad boy! Thanks to him, this little soirée of ours has been making its way through the rumour mill.”

She paused for a few moments to let people collect their thoughts and talk amongst themselves.

“Now, that being said, our Damage Control team has been doing some very swift, diligent work for the last few weeks, so it will likely remain just that — a rumour. However, this does not let Randy boy… off the hook.”

She looked over at George and they both nodded. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to her.

“Get those hands behind your back.” Molly said, as she walked towards Randy. She clicked the cuffs together tightly. “Now, what are we going to do with you?”

“Please! Have mercy!” Randy pleaded.

“I will show you as much mercy as you deserve, which, at this point, isn’t as much as you think!”

“My wife is the one who wanted to break our marriage contract!”

“And you were the one who broke our contract, Randy.”

Randy stopped to think it over. It was difficult for him to deny his share of the blame.

“You’re right, Mistress. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry!”

Molly laughed, smacking her riding crop across George’s ass.

“Do you seriously think that a simple apology is going to make everything right?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!”

Molly paused for a few moments to let her audience collect themselves. There was laughter and murmuring.

“Randy, you’ve humiliated all of us. You’ve put our private business on display and now we’re going to… return the favour.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a favour to me!”

Randy was desperate. He was trying to paint Molly as the villain, but she knew better.

“I don’t really give a shit what you consider to be a favour, Randy. I am not the one on trial here!”

“Do you have any idea what being Linda’s husband is like? The pressure to perform, to provide, to do everything right?!”

“Randy… your compulsion to satisfy her every whim is no concern of mine. Right now, I am the one in charge here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now kneel down on that chair.”

Randy was somewhat hopeful that he would, at the very least, be able to get some enjoyment out of all this. However, that hope was quickly dashed when George passed Molly one of her… larger strap-on dildos. Randy threw up in his mouth a little bit. The idea of having a dick, or a dick-shaped object, anywhere near him made his guts churn.

Molly took her time, carefully fastening her toy around her waist. This particular one was double-ended, so she needed to penetrate herself, as well, if she wanted it to fit… securely. She softly moaned as she got it nice and tight. After all, Randy’s humiliation wasn’t the only satisfaction she was getting out of all this.

George passed her a couple more of her props: a ball gag and a pig’s nose. She strapped each of them onto Randy’s face and then pulled out a bottle of lube.

“Bend over.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Such a good boy!”

Molly patted Randy on the head, as if he were nothing more than a pet. George tossed her a bottle of lube. Molly carefully dispensed enough to get all the… essential areas ready.

At this point, you might be wondering if they were planning on taking this show on tour. Well, you can keep wondering, because any sex cult worth a damn doesn’t put on such reckless, public spectacles if they want to keep operating.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, Randy. I am enjoying myself right now. However, my pleasure is secondary to the greater good. We all know this, but you seem to have forgotten, so I am here to remind you!”

Molly started to push inside Randy. The dildo was gently tapered and ribbed for pleasure. All she had to be worried about was if she was moving too fast, and she was not particularly worried about that.

[Randy moans and yelps in pain]

“Randy, this is happening and you can’t weasel your way out of it. Not this time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Randy yelped as Molly pushed deeper and deeper. Finally, she buried her toy all the way in and began thrusting.

“Wow, Randy! You’re so accommodating! That’s one of the things I love about you, and I just know that Linda feels the same way. Now squeal, little pig! Squeal!”

George couldn’t help but observe, at this point, that Molly was pounding Randy with more than just silicone, but also backhanded compliments — three in a row, to be precise. He was impressed. He’d never met a woman who could match his dominant side and do so with such poise and grandeur.

Molly stopped thrusting for a moment and saw that Randy was hard, throbbing and dripping — as much as she’d ever seen. Management decided to exclude Linda from this particular event, but Molly couldn’t help but wonder how she would have reacted.

“Since you’ve been such a good boy, Randy, I’m gonna give something back.”

She poured out some more lube and started to stroke his cock, alternating unpredictably between going easy and hard. When Randy started to get close, she took her hand off his cock and just stood there, watching him twitch and moan, waiting for his pleasure to subside.

“You didn’t think that this was going to be easy or quick, did you?”

Molly laughed and then gave his cock a few slaps with the palm of her hand, each successive impact greater in intensity.

“Fuck! God damn! That fucking hurts!”

“But you liked it, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not even a little bit? I think you’re just embarrassed to admit it.”

Molly repeated this process a couple more times. She would bring Randy right to the edge of orgasm, stop to slap his junk and then ream his asshole a bit more. Finally, Randy cried out for mercy.

“Please, Mistress! I can’t take it anymore. I need to cum. Please let me cum!”

“Okay, Randy. I think you’ve suffered enough now. Flip over and sit down for me.”

Molly started jerking him off and fucking his ass simultaneously. This was a move she hadn’t tried on him before, so she didn’t know for sure how he was going to react. However, he liked it so much that even she was a bit distracted… as well as aroused. Once he started getting close, she remembered that she had a job to do.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

Molly had done all of this enough times to know that men give off certain… cues when they’re about to shoot their load. And she could read them like a book. Once Randy’s breathing and moaning reached a certain tempo and register, she knew when she had reached the point of no return — the point at which she could decide to give pleasure or take it away.

This time, she was taking it away.

When she moved her hand off of Randy’s cock, it twitched a couple of times, a small bead of cum already poking out of his tip. Then, suddenly, the first big rope shot out of him and went straight up his nostril. He gagged and coughed as his cock continued to spurt. Most of it landed on his chest, but some got in his hair and on the carpet, as well. Everyone laughed, Molly being the loudest. When her audience quieted down a bit, Molly asked George one last question:

“You need a tissue, sweetheart?”

“I need a shower, too!”

“You can shower at home! I was going to give you a tissue or two, but since you’re being snarky with me, you only get your nice dress shirt.”

“I paid $300 for this!”

“Well, that’s your own fault, Randy. Seems like you have a choice to make here.”

Randy cleaned himself up as best he could and then threw his shirt in a nearby trash bin.

“Does anybody have a t-shirt I can borrow?”

Everyone laughed and then looked back at Molly.

“Oh, I think I can do this one small… favour for you.”

George once again reached into Molly’s bag of tricks and pulled out the pinkest, tightest, sluttiest, most glittery tube top that Molly had in her possession. On the back of the shirt, the glitter was stitched to form the outline of one word: “Bitch”.

“I think this is going to be the perfect sendoff for you, Randy. How far away is your house again?”

“Six miles.”

Molly laughed for a moment.

“You’re gonna walk the whole way there, bitch!”

Randy stared at the floor as he slowly moped his way towards the elevator, the entire office pointing and laughing as he did so. When the doors closed behind him, he sighed, stared at the ceiling and tried to look on the bright side:

“At least I don’t have cum dripping down me.”

Next: Dana's Little Secret, Act I: "Power Play"

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