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Dress Code

Anne makes a poor choice of underwear.
“Miss Burlington, Mr. Slater will see you now.” The senior partner’s attractive secretary gestured Anne towards the door, with a knowing smile.

She hadn’t been told what it was about, just that he wanted to see her, and she had spent the morning until the 10 a.m. meeting time in a state of nervousness. She rose and approached the door. Her heart hammering, she entered the plushly appointed office with trepidation. It was her second day on the job, and Mr. Slater was known for being demanding and intimidating, not to mention distractingly handsome. The day before had gone uneventfully and even well, but Anne nonetheless felt nervous, as if another shoe had yet to drop.

Mr. Slater’s office was very traditional, which fit the nature of the firm. Slater, Mawhinney, & Davenport had catered to the old money of the city for generations. And it made sense that the old elite felt more reassured in such old-fashioned surroundings. Wood paneling, leather couches, thick oriental rugs, portraits in oil of the elder Mr. Slaters that had preceded this one, bookshelves with glass doors holding leather-bound tomes. A sense of solidity and continuity was what the office murmured softly. Had the decor been designed, it would have looked fake, a parody of what a partner’s office was supposed to look like. This office, however, was undoubtedly mostly unchanged since the early 40’s at the latest. It looked and felt right.

Anne stood nervously in front of her boss. Not only her boss, but her supervisor’s boss as well. Hell, who was she kidding, he was everyone’s boss. He was the name on the letterhead. He was good-looking, but there was something forbidding about him. Something about his manner made her, and most others, afraid to make mistakes in front of him.

She stood nervously in front of his desk as he looked up from his papers at her. Knowing her tendencies to fidget, she willed herself not to shift her weight back and forth. She put her hands behind her back and waited for him to speak.

“How have you found your first days so far, Miss Burlington? Settling in all right? Anyone treating you unkindly? Everything going well, I trust?” He looked at her appraisingly and not unkindly.

“Yes… yes, of course not, yes…” Anne stammered before realizing that the questions were mostly rhetorical.

Mr. Slater looked at her with an expression that revealed some amusement, although a severe one. “I’m told that you have been doing good work so far. And I am pleased to see that you seem to be in compliance with the firm’s dress code.”

Ah yes, the firm’s dress code, she thought to herself. Very detailed, and some of it, she thought, was utterly not the firm’s business. For the most part the provisions were reasonable business wear, and she had been able to comply with them with no difficulty. High heeled pumps, pencil skirt, silk blouse, minimal jewelry, and hair pulled back. She had substituted panty hose for the specified stockings, as well as one or two other changes where she felt the dress code was too detailed and intrusive. And it was not as if anyone would find out.

“Yes, sir.”

He paused as he looked her over, from head to toe, and then back up again. He smiled. “Yes, it appears you have done a good job following directions. Thank you for coming in. That will be all.”

That’s it? she thought as she turned to go. Maybe he just wanted to make sure to say hello? She felt his eyes on her as she left. When she reached the door, his voice stopped her. “Actually, Miss Burlington, since you’re so close to the shelf, would you be so kind as to get me the second volume of the OED? It’s there on the shelf near the door, on the bottom to the right.”

Anne looked down. The dictionary he had asked for was large and bulky. The shelf was on the same wall as the door, and it faced his desk. There would be no way for her to get the book without bending over, her derriere facing his appraising and penetrating gaze. She thought it unlikely that he really needed that particular book right now, but if this was the worst she had to put up with, it wasn’t too bad.

She decided to show him that she understood what he was doing. If he wanted to look at her ass, she would give him a show. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be ogled by such a handsome, successful man. Anne felt a frisson of arousal as she set about her task. The easiest way to get the book would have been to crouch down, but she bent at the waist instead, emphasizing her trim legs and superior posterior. She felt the skirt’s material stretch along her rear, and she could feel his gaze on her ass.

The dictionary in hand, she turned back to Mr. Slater’s desk. His expression had changed. He was frowning, but he somehow looked pleased at the same time.

“Miss Burlington, I am very disappointed,” he said as she laid the dictionary on the corner of his desk. “Are you not able to follow simple directions?”


“The dress code, Miss Burlington. Are you or are you not able to follow simple directions?”

“Yes, sir,” she stammered, her heart in her chest. Too late she realized her mistake.

“So am I to interpret your failure to follow the firm’s policies, on your second day no less, as willful disobedience or mere inattention to detail? Are you a rebel without a cause, Miss Burlington, or simply stupid?”

“Sir, I’m sorry, I was short on laundry, and I didn’t think that anyone would know.” The excuse was lame (and untrue), but it was the best she could do off the cuff. She hadn’t thought she could ever be caught out.

“I believe the guidelines make it perfectly clear that female associates are to wear thong underwear. You made it abundantly clear when you bent over that you were not, as I could see your panty lines.”

Anne felt a mixture of fear and anger. She needed this job; in this economy she couldn’t afford to face another long job search. But the firm’s dress code for women had infuriated her. The provisions pertaining to exterior wear were reasonable, but she had been angered by the detailed instructions pertaining to undergarments. Stockings. Thongs. Unpadded bras, preferably lace and sheer.

She estimated that her underwear drawer was perhaps 75% thongs in the first place, and she had a reasonably decent collection of thigh-high stockings. And to some extent she could understand the provisions pertaining to stockings and panties. Clearly the firm wanted a sleek, smooth silhouette for its female associates. But she couldn’t understand the need for the specifics for bra style. That provision had made the other ones seem even more inappropriate. They could no longer be simply explained away.

So, in getting dressed both on her first day and that morning, Anne had intentionally made choices that would violate the undergarments section of the dress code. Even though she wore thongs most of the time, she chose the biggest, most unattractive granny panties she owned, and had gone so far as to wear panty hose over them rather than the specified stockings. For her bra she had chosen a push-up model that was neither sheer nor lacy, but rather had smooth satin cups. It had seemed a small rebellion, and risk-free. How would anyone find out?

But now Mr. Slater had detected the panty lines of her offending underwear through her skirt.

“Miss Burlington,” he continued. “Your story is that you deliberately broke the dress code. The state of your laundry hamper is immaterial and irrelevant. Further, I don’t believe that this is the real reason for your violation. However, had you simply not known about that aspect of the code, I am confident that you would have simply claimed ignorance, showing inattention to detail or stupidity. Or perhaps even both. I am, however, pleased that you are not stupid. There is no place for stupidity at this firm. In fact, I am pleased to learn that you have some spirit, as I imagine that your choice of underwear was at least in some measure an act of rebellion.”

Anne’s agitated state started to calm slightly. The fact that she was in her boss’s office discussing her underwear had faded somewhat to the background, replaced by the more general issue of her ability to comply with the rules. Further, Mr. Slater’s approval, however minuscule, gratified her. It made her understand why he was such an effective boss. And he was certainly as handsome as everyone said. Brown hair greying at the temples. Brown eyes that were alternately severe and twinkling with humor. Broad shoulders and a trim figure. For a man in his early forties he was quite handsome. And he looked as if he’d get better with age.

As her mind wandered, she felt a moment of fear when she realized she had drifted off and missed the beginning of his next statement.

“... I will need to see the specifics of your sartorial indiscretion.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, stalling for time.

He did not seem taken aback at the question, which surprised her. What had he said? Was it so outlandish that he expected a demurral?

“Miss Burlington, I don’t like to repeat myself. Given that you have broken the dress code, it is incumbent upon me as your superior to ascertain the precise nature of the rule-breaking. I will need to see the specifics of your ‘wardrobe malfunction,’ so to speak.”

“You mean you want to see my underwe--”

“Exactly. As I said earlier, you are not unintelligent. Yes, I need to see your panties.”

The moment was surreal. Her boss wanted to see her underwear. Anne tried to think about her legal training. What precedents applied? Certainly companies could enforce dress codes. She didn’t think this dress code was appropriate, but it was clearly spelled out and was in the company guidelines. Could she be required to show him her panties, that is, prove that she was or was not in compliance with the company’s published rules? She didn’t think so, but she also didn’t need to be out of a job. Certainly any reason could be manufactured for terminating her, and she didn’t think anyone would believe her if she claimed that the named partner in one of the city’s most distinguished firms had asked to see her panties in his office. Perhaps that’s why he felt he could get away with this? The absurdity of the demand?

Her face burning, she faced Mr. Slater’s cool and appraising eyes. “I… I…” she cast about for something to say. Finally, she realized that she was out of options. “Yes, sir.”

Now there was the difficulty of how to accomplish what he had asked. Her skirt was tight, and she knew she couldn’t pull it up far enough her legs and hips for him to see without unzipping it and perhaps even taking it off. She didn’t want to do that, but she also couldn’t simply remove her panties from under her skirt, because of her decision to wear hose instead of stockings.

She gulped and fumbled for the zipper of her skirt. Anne realized that he would not be pleased at the panty hose either, but there was no way around it. She let the unzipped skirt fall to the floor. As she did, the bottom of her blouse covered her panties.

Mr. Slater gestured at her. “Pull that up please.”

Her cheeks on fire, matching her red hair, Anne lifted the bottom of her blouse to show him her panties. Oddly, she felt excited. Was it the situation? Or the fact that her boss was so damned handsome? Perhaps it was both.

She stood in front of him, holding up her blouse, feeling his eyes on her.

“Oh dear,” she heard him say, presumably in response to her pantyhose. And he went on, “Please turn around, Miss Burlington. Make one full revolution.”

She turned slightly, and now her embarrassment was augmented by the choice of underwear. Her panties were hideous. Why couldn’t she have worn what she usually wore anyway?”

In her embarrassment, she felt an increasing and surprising arousal. She was undressed in her boss’s office. What else was he going to want her to do?

“Miss Burlington, I am disappointed. I now see that there are two breaches of company guidelines. I am forced to ascertain whether or not there is yet a third. Please unbutton your blouse and show me your brassiere.”

Anne gulped. This would be in fact a third violation. Was this like baseball? Would it be strike three? She didn’t particularly want to undress further, but it seemed absurd to protest now, standing in front of her boss with her skirt pooled on his carpet.

With trembling fingers she unbuttoned the third button of her blouse and worked her way down. Without thinking she continued all the way to the bottom, even though only two buttons would have been enough to show him her bra. She looked up to see him looking at her not altogether unkindly.

“Please show me, Miss Burlington. Open your blouse.”

As she did, she saw how intently he was looking at her. Of course he was enjoying this, it finally occurred to her. He was making her strip in his office, and he clearly liked what he saw. Somehow, his intimidating presence had blinded her to everything but the issue of her clothes and adherence to company guidelines. But he definitely was enjoying the display. The realization, late as it was, pleased her. It also added a bit to her excitement, knowing that she exerted at least a tiny bit of power over him.

She opened her blouse, and impulsively shrugged it off, standing in front of him defiantly. His eyebrows went up and he steepled his fingers in front of him.

“Miss Burlington,” he began, looking her up and down both appraisingly and appreciatively, “You are in a difficult position. According to firm guidelines, you have amassed, in the course of two days, three dress code violations, which is usually enough for a written warning in your file. This is usually not in itself that serious. However, in your first month you are in a probationary period, and any such black mark almost always results in termination.”

Cold dread seized her, and Mr. Slater continued. “However, as the senior partner in this firm, I have certain leeway over the rules. I cannot, however, run completely roughshod over them. At the least, you may not be permitted to return to work in the offending garments. And there will also have to be other consequences. I will now ask you to step over to me in order that I may remove your inappropriate office wear.”

In a daze, she walked over behind his desk and stood next to his chair. He leaned forward and got his fingers under the waistband of her panties and hose. Rather than pull them down, however, he yanked her towards him, and she fell face forward across his lap. He couldn’t mean to spank her?!

He pulled her underwear down to mid thigh, and as he did, Anne realized that she was in fact about to be spanked by her boss, as if she were a recalcitrant schoolgirl. He rested his palm lightly on one bare buttock, and for that moment her world became just that one body part, exposed to the cool air and to his touch. She squirmed in his lap.

“I should offer you a choice, Miss Burlington. The letter in your file and almost certain termination at the end of the month, or my somewhat more tender mercies? Which will it be? A job search, or a spanking?”

Her voice caught in her throat. The choice was easy. It had to be the spanking. She couldn’t afford to be out of work. And she was unaccountably aroused. Could he tell? How much could he see? Was her pussy visibly wet? Nonetheless, she had to answer.

“The spanking, sir.”
She could sense his smile behind her, but before she had time to think about the situation further, he removed his hand from her pert ass. Almost immediately she felt a stinging slap on her right cheek. It was firm and hard, and it warmed her skin.

“Ohhh!” she said involuntarily.

He didn’t give her time to get used to the feeling or recover, and the first slap was followed closely by another, on her left buttock this time. Alternating between her cheeks he rained down stinging slaps on his new employee’s ass. The slaps hurt and stung, but not unbearably. Rather, they made her ass feel hot. She squirmed more to try to ease her discomfort, to try to soothe the feeling on her buttocks, and as she did, she felt the hardness of his erection beneath her.

Almost before she realized it, the spanking stopped. He placed his hand on the uppermost part of her thigh, perhaps a mere inch from her pussy, or maybe even less. “Delightful, Miss Burlington. You have an utterly delightful ass. Beautiful, and the flesh is so pert and firm. Spanking you is a true pleasure, as I’m sure you were able to feel from my reaction. Call it a gallant reflex. And if I am not very much mistaken…”

He let his words trail off, and his fingers, resting on her thigh, touched her outer lips. She started in surprise, but relaxed quickly. His hand on her labia felt good. They were slick with her arousal, and he finished his thought, “... the situation was not without its pleasures for you.”

Out of embarrassment at her arousal, she didn’t say anything. His fingers continued their exploring, and even over the burning she felt on her buttocks, she felt her cheeks (on her face) turn beet red as he penetrated her with a finger. When he added a second finger with no difficulty, Anne had to wonder if she was so wet that she was leaving a wet mark on his trousers. His erection beneath her was enormous and complete, and she couldn’t help but move against it with her hips.

He began to move his fingers in and out of her pussy, and the movement made a wet sound as he finger fucked her slowly at first but then increasingly forcefully. Her pussy was tight around his digits, but she was so wet that his fingers slid in and out fluidly and easily.

Just as she was relaxing completely, allowing the sensations to wash away all other thought, he added a finger to rub her clit. The feeling was electric, and despite how good it felt, she had a flash of worry. This would make her cum. The thought of losing herself in an orgasm on her boss’s lap was disconcerting, and then she wondered, would he expect her to pleasure him? In her mind, given the dynamic, she was thinking of it as “servicing” him. She found that she didn’t mind the idea. In fact she hoped--

But she couldn’t think of it too much. Mr. Slater was fingering her with all too much skill. He was able to trace little circles around her clit even as his fingers plunged in and out. And soon after he started playing with her clit, his other hand slapped her ass. Once. Twice. A third time.

The stinging sensation on her already reddened buttocks sent her over the edge. She caught herself trying to resist the orgasm, but it was no use. The waves of pleasure radiated from her pussy and buttocks, and rolled through her entire body. She stiffened in his lap as he continued to finger her through her orgasm. When she was done, he laid the hand that had been in her on her left cheek, soothing it with a gentle touch. With the other hand, he unhooked her bra.

“Get up, Miss Burlington. You’ve done very well with the first part of your consequences. But we still need to get rid of the offending items.”

She stood, her legs shaky, her bra loose around her breasts. It was an awkward stance, since her panties and hose were partway down her thighs, making standing difficult.

“Please remove all of those items, Miss. Burlington. None of them is acceptable, except for the shoes. You may retain those.”

Swallowing, she shrugged out her bra. She was proud of her breasts, and was pleased to see that Mr. Slater was looking at them with interest and appreciation. They were just the right size for her slender frame, or perhaps just a bit larger than you might expect. Almost miraculously free of sag, topped with small, pink, upthrust nipples, her breasts looked just the same as they had at eighteen. Right now her nipples were hard and erect.

Mr. Slater raised one eyebrow and looked pointedly at her bottom half. Anne stepped out of her shoes, as the feeling of unreality continued. Even though she had just been spanked and fingered to an orgasm, the fact that she was now standing in front of her boss, taking off her clothes while he watched her, his erection tenting his trouser front, made her feel as if it were all a dream.

She slid down her panty hose and underwear, and awkwardly (at least it felt that way to her) stepped out of them. Anne faced her boss with a combination of embarrassment and pride, along with nerves for what might come next. She knew she looked good. She worked hard for her body, and she had also been blessed by the genetic lottery. Stepping back into her heels, she tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes were examining her body.

She stood 5’4’’, with a slim, lithe, and perfectly curved body. Her hips were certainly not boyish, and everywhere that was supposed to be curved was. Toned muscles and skin. A flat tummy. She kept her pubic hair trimmed very small. Her pussy lips themselves were shaved, and she would have kept the rest hairless as well, but men seemed so fascinated by her red hair, and they begged her so often to keep at least some of it, that she usually left a small patch just above her lips. Sometimes a landing strip. Right now she had it trimmed into a tiny and neat triangle.

He was staring at her, and she didn’t know what to do next. She wanted to make him cum as well. Part of it was arousal. She liked making men cum and feeling that rush that said, “I did that. I made that happen.” Part of it was a sense of fairness, but some of it was also a sense that it would even the balance of power. Should she kneel between his legs and take out his cock? Would that be too submissive? What if she bent over in front of him and invited him to fuck her from behind? At this point she knew that she wanted him completely.

The fear that he might simply reject her offer and dismiss her, however, kept her frozen in place. That would be more humiliating, at least in some ways, than anything else that had already happened. She was on display. She stared at his pants, and his erection was making an obscene shape in the front. He clearly was large. She wondered about what it looked like. As she pondered, he reached out and touched a button on his desk and leaned towards it to speak.

“Miss Jones. Please come in at once. I have some items for you to dispose of.”

Without a hint of a pause she heard the door open, and she whirled around to see “Miss Jones” enter the room. Reflexively, she started to cover her breasts with one arm, and her pussy with the other hand, unconsciously making a pin-up pose. Ms. Jones looked at her with a smile that seemed to say, “It’s okay. We’ve all been there.” Suddenly, covering up seemed silly, and Anne dropped her arms to her sides.

As she came further into the room, Miss Jones looked at Anne with obvious interest. Her eyes explored her body approvingly. “Mr. Slater, she’s very beautiful. Well done.”

He replied, somewhat impatiently, “Of course, Miss Jones, I require nothing less. Please take her panties, hose, and bra and dispose of them.” He gestured at the mentioned items on the floor near Anne’s feet.

“Yes sir,” she practically purred, and she took her time as she leaned over to pick them up. She was so close that Anne could feel her breath on her legs as Miss Jones straightened up. She was taller than Anne, with longer legs and smaller breasts. Blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. It was somewhat exciting to know that beneath her professional clothes she was wearing stockings, a thong, and a sheer bra. In her excited state, Anne suddenly did not find the dress code objectionable.

Straightening completely, Miss Jones said, “I’ll leave you two, then.” Before she turned to go, she winked at Anne, licked her lips, and reached out and tweaked Anne’s erect left nipple, using Anne’s body as a shield so that Mr. Slater could not see.

Anne gasped but tried to cover her reaction. She watched, stunned, as the secretary left the room, her heels emphasizing her elegant legs and pert ass. As much as she tried, Anne could not detect a hint of a thong line. She found herself wondering what Miss Jones looked like without her skirt and blouse.

As she undressed her boss’s secretary in her mind and tried to resolve how she felt about the nipple tweak, Mr. Slater spoke to her. “Miss Burlington. Please turn around and come here.”

She was surprised but pleased to see that he had extracted his cock from his pants. She didn’t have to decide what to do any longer. His erection was gorgeous. He was so hard that it wasn’t easy for her to tell whether or not he was circumcised, and his cock was large and thick, with just the perfect amount of curve to it. A bead of precum formed at the opening, and Anne unconsciously licked her lips.

He opened a drawer and removed a small cushion. Tossing it on the floor between his feet, he said, “Miss Burlington, please continue to demonstrate that you have a modicum of intelligence.”

At this point all sense of the oddness of her day had completely left Anne’s mind. She was standing naked, in high heels, in her boss’s office, and she was about to give him willing and enthusiastic oral sex. She was amused by the fact that this must be a common enough occurrence for him to have a cushion at the ready to protect his employees’ knees.

She knelt on the cushion and grasped his cock in her right hand. She looked up at him, wanting to see what his expression said, but it was inscrutable. Her only hint was his massive erection, which throbbed gently in her hand, the head so tight that it was a shade of purple.

“Suck me, Miss Burlington,” he instructed, in a soft voice full of command.

She opened her mouth and took his large cock between her lips.

To Be Continued.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright "Oceanrunner" 2013-2017. All rights reserved. No reproduction without author's permission. If seen anywhere besides, the story has been ripped off.

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