She knew the exact moment it started. They were standing in a circle in the break room, Kyle was beside her telling another endless story about his son the football star. Kyle with the bad teeth, cheap cologne, and constant smell of cigarettes. Kyle the office asshole, bully, jerk. He was going on about how his kid was so much bigger than the others because he made sure his son always had meat at every meal, including breakfast, never mentioning that his kid has also been held back a grade. Twice. She had raised an eyebrow, and interjected. “Some people just develop at different rates.  Hormones have a lot to do with size in teenagers as well, you know.”

The glazed over with boredom eyes of her co-worker had swiveled to her, and she could hear Kyle swallow, and caught the sneer out of the corner of her eye. “Hormones? You wanna know how to make a nigger whore moan? Don’t pay her!” She started to say something back, scoff at his ignorance and remind him those sort of jokes were against office policy, then he slapped  her on the ass. She jumped, nearly spilling her coffee, and sucked in a deep breath of surprise and anger. His braying jackass laugh stopped just long enough to wheeze out, “Nigger Whore… moan. Get it?”  before resuming, sharp and shrill.

All eyes were on her, wide and suddenly interested to see how the black woman would react. Expecting her to defend herself, to lean in and confront him. Instead she had looked at her feet. Unable to think of anything but the warmth on her large round ass spreading to her cunt, she was a little girl again, in a conversation with grownups and she didn’t know what to do or say. She was the only woman in the office, the only black, and more than once she had to fight with men who insisted on stepping over the line, and she always had, tooth and nail. Except now, hearing the N-word, and being slapped on her ass, she couldn’t find words, just a warm flush creeping down her face towards her big breasts.

“Get it?” He slapped her ass again, this time harder, the slap resonated in the small break room like a firecracker….and she jumped again. The feelings in her cunt got stronger, and her breasts heaved once.

“Yes.”  She whispered the word, then walked away with tiny steps and her eyes locked on the floor, desperate to get away.

Things were almost normal for awhile after that. Kyle was in the boss’ office a lot, and she assumed the sexual harassment policy was being explained to him repeatedly and in no uncertain terms. He even seemed to be avoiding her, confining their interactions to leering glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. Then the monthly staff meeting was held, and things got worse.

So much worse.

They started off with the usual dumb jokes, people eating donuts and waiting for coffee to cool. Then Tom, the senior manager, fumbled through the laptop until his PowerPoint came to life. He flipped to the first slide, and cleared his throat. “Now, I want to start by saying that no positions are being eliminated, no one is being laid off, and no one is losing their job or even getting their hours cut. But we are doing some reorganizing to streamline workflows, moving some people around, switching things up a little to improve our processes.”

He droned on about business paradigms and the latest management fad, but her eyes were locked on the right corner of the screen, and the line extending from her name straight up to Kyle’s.  He was her direct supervisor now. She looked across the table and saw him openly leering at her. She flinched and he licked his lips, leaned back in his chair, and nodded at her. She looked down again, staring at her feet, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach and the twitch in her nigger cunt, yeah she knew that was what Kyle was thinking, and he had his own nigger cunt to boss around.

She had thought he might at least wait awhile, play it cool and try to catch her off her guard. Instead he looked over at her halfway through the meeting, just as they were discussing a project she had been working on for months, and held out his cup. “Hey Dessie, get me a refill would ya’?” She had looked from him to Tom, then shook her head. “This is my project Kyle, I think I should be here.” Kyle shook his head back at her. “Nah nigger, see, I’m taking it over. Been talking to Tom about it for a few weeks now, I was going to tell you in private to spare you any embarrassment.”  His grin said that her embarrassment was the least of his concerns, especially since he called her a nigger in front of the entire office!  She bristled at being called a nigger, but didn’t say anything, she spoke with short, clipped words. “Getting your coffee isn’t in my job description, Kyle.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in close, whispering. “Sure it is nigger, it’s called other duties as assigned.” His tone changed, like he was speaking to a child, this wasn’t the  first time he called her a nigger, but no one heard it so she told herself let it go, when in reality she didn’t have the nerve to confront him.  Besides this was about her job description. “So I can answer any questions while you fill this up.  Cream, two sugars. Right Tom?”

She had looked to Tom for support, but he just shrugged. She licked her lips and the awkward silence grew. Finally she stood up, reached across the table, and took his cup. Kyle smiled at her, and gave her a thumbs up. “Anyone else need a refill?”

Here

She spent the next few minutes writing down how everyone took their coffee, after Kyle insisted, that she was a dumb nigger… she would never remember it all. She clutched a half dozen empty mugs in her hands as she walked to the break room, filling them one by one. She tried to ignore the feelings in her cunt, her nigger cunt. The way her fingers twitched every time they got near it. The warm glow of humiliation each time she checked off someone’s name on her list. By the time she got back, the meeting was winding down, she moved around the table handing people their cups while Tom talked about his last vacation. They stood up to leave, and Kyle smiled his ragged tooth smile across the room. “Hey, Dessie, this is some great coffee. Thanks, I appreciate it. One other thing, I expect you to call me Sir from now on, you know protocol.”

She had stumbled into the bathroom, not sure if she would throw up or force her hands down her panties. So she’s to address him as Sir… Finally, she did neither, just stood in front of the mirror breathing and calculating out how many minutes until she could go home. When she got home, her fingers did go down her panties. She heard his voice as she jacked herself off, fingers working around her clit, sliding into her pussy. “Hey Dessie, this is some great coffee.”  Dessie replied,  “Thank you Sir, she felt her cunt twitch with the word Sir.” She’d spent years insisting it was Deshondra, not Dessie, correcting everyone around her, re-ordering business cards. Now she was Dessie again. Not Deshondra, not a black woman. Something less than that, a service whore, a nigger.  She wondered how far and how fast Kyle would sink her professional career for his own amusement.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The next day he was at her desk constantly, making suggestions on her work, pointing out errors that weren’t even errors, insisting she change things even though she knew he was wrong. He leaned in close over her, his smell repugnant. He was constantly pointing at things on the screen, his nicotine stained, oily fingers smearing across the monitor, his forearm brushing her breasts. She leaned away and he leaned further in, the contact becoming longer, more intimate, more blatant, his forearm rubbing and brushing her nipples.  His hands on her thighs, gripping them falsely for emphasis. Her nipples got harder and her pussy wetter.

Finally she forced herself to slide completely back from the desk, and he stood up, looking down at her. This little wretch of a man was looking down at her, his eyes obviously locked on her breasts. “Whoa, check out those headlights! You got the high-beams on baby!”

Every cubicle in the office suddenly went dead silent, except hers. Kyle was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, leaning against her desk, choking back sobs. Finally she had forced herself to stumble to the bathroom, standing there, looking at her dark brown face, waiting for her arousal to die down. It finally did, and in its place anger rose up. She wasn’t Dessie god-damn it, she was Deshondra, and she was good at her job and that misogynistic little twerp was getting a kick in the balls the next time he tried any shit like that.

She stomped from the bathroom into his cubicle, and glared at him as he looked up. She inhaled sharply, focusing her rage, and he spoke just as she was ready to go directly to screaming. “Hey, Dessie-Q, thanks for coming in, I was hoping you’d stop by.” She ground the words between her teeth, “I thought maybe you’d like to apologize, Sir.” He shrugged and gave her the same condescending smirk. “Nah nigger, see, I actually wanted to talk to you about the workplace dress code. The way you dress.”

She blinked and shook her head. “What’s wrong with the way I dress, exactly Sir?” Her script, her plan, her whole train of thought was derailed as she stared at his shirt with pit stains and his tie with mustard blotches on the end.

He waved a hand at her. “Well, I can see your underwear, your bra straps you know. It’s not very professional. Like everyone knows they’re there, I been trying to ignore it because of professionalism and all that but it’s just so obvious nigger. No one is going to take you seriously when it’s so apparent you’re walking around with those huge lumps on your chest nigger.”

She closed her eyes, and forced the words out of her mouth. “This is ridiculous, and if you think I won’t contact a lawyer-” She choked at the sudden pain in her left breast. “What the fuck?”

He leered at her and slapped her other breast. She clutched her arms to her chest and leaned over, trying to protect herself.  He simply took her arms in one of his hands, lifted them up, and began to swat her udders repeatedly, SMACK, SMACK, SLAP, SHWACK, over and over….he must have slapped her udders over 20 times!

“See what I mean nigger? You drag those ridiculous looking things around all day, that’s bad enough, but with those bra straps everyone knows it all the time. SMACK, SMACK, SLAP, SHWACK,  “Put your arms down nigger,” he was swatting them again, again and again….No one’s going to take you seriously when they can see your undies Dessie, and believe me, everyone can see them. We’re enforcing the dress code, starting now, so give me your underwear or pack up your things and leave.  And start acting like you know your place for fuck’s sake, you’re a nigger.”

She knew she should storm out right now, call a lawyer, hell, call the cops, but some part of her wouldn’t let her feet move. It was like she couldn’t breathe anymore, couldn’t think of anything but how it made her pussy clench to be treated this way, and called a nigger so casually.  She whimpered and turned her back to him, her breasts stinging from the slaps, still slumped over, and slid her arm up the sleeve of her blouse. The clasp came loose, and her pussy pulsed as she pulled the bra down off her shoulders, through one arm, then the other, and out of her blouse. She turned around slowly, and held it out in surrender.

He leered at her, and pointed. “Put it on the desk Dessie.” She folded the plain white bra carefully, then set it where he indicated. She could feel him looking at her breasts as she moved, and tried not to let the brown udder flesh shift and bounce. She stood there in silent surrender, then forced herself to straighten her back and look him in the eye.

He just leered back at her. “Well, come on, panties too.”

She didn’t fight this time. Just lifted her skirt up far enough to reach her panties, pulled them down her legs, and put them on top of her bra. The cold air shocked her went cunt, and a part of her was so embarrassed at the wet spot in the crotch. She couldn’t move, the scent of her cunt was wafting in the air.

“Good nigger. You can get them back at the end of the day. Wait, sniffing the air, “nigger is that your cunt?  I asked you a question nigger!” He looked down at her panties, picked them up and said, “Lookie here!! You like this… nigger your cunt is wet!!   Slapping those udders made your cunt leak,” he laughed at her utter humiliation.  “Well answer the question nigger Dessie, and from now on I’m Sir to you nigger!”

“OMG….yes Sir…my cunt is wet Sir.” That admission that she was aroused by the brutal abuse of her breasts, made her cunt start to leak…she was so thankful that her was dismissing her.  

“Well now  run along.”

She turned and fled, the familiar feeling of nausea and arousal filling her body as she stumbled out of his office. The rest of the day was a haze, spent at her desk sitting very still, not leaving her cubicle or even moving so nobody would see her tits bounce under her blouse, not talking to anyone, knowing they had heard everything across the cubicle walls. She thought about waiting until everyone had left to get her clothes back, but didn’t want to be alone with Kyle. Instead she silently walked to his office right at 5:00.

He looked at her standing there, then fished her bra and panties out of a drawer. “Here you go, don’t bother wearing any tomorrow. I’ll just take them away again, it’s really beneath both of us. And you should stick to dresses from now on. Be more feminine and shit, don’t be trying to dress like a man. It don’t fool anyone anyway, we all know you’re just a nigger bitch.”

She didn’t talk, just turned around and fled, her underwear in her hand. She stopped in the bathroom, determined to at least leave the building with her clothes on, not hidden in her purse like a cheap nigger tramp after a one night stand. She pulled her panties on, then took her blouse off and leaned over and pulled the straps of the bra up her shoulders and the cups up her body. She gasped as something warm and sticky hit her left breast, then pulled it back off. There, right in the middle of the cup was a puddle of semen. It had soaked into the cloth, and was starting to dry around the edges, but the sight was unmistakeable. And now it was on her tit as well. The slightest sheen of liquid on her skin.

She closed her eyes and lifted her nipple to her mouth, tasting it, rubbing her nipple around on her tongue and tasting his cum. She wasn’t sure if she could taste the cheap cologne and nicotine or it was just her imagination, but her fingers slipped down her panties as she licked his come from her tit and then the cup of her bra. She forced herself to come silently as her other hand pummeled her pussy, her knees jerking and her hips bucking. She struggled into her bra, shuffled to the car with the damp cup mashed against her tit, and drove herself home. She was barely in the door before her hands were down her panties again.

She kept telling herself she wouldn’t cry as she came into work the next day, the feeling of air on her pussy and her tits bouncing under the dress. Surprisingly Kyle just gave her a grunt of approval and a nod. And the next few days were almost normal. She fetched coffee for Kyle, and he came by her desk to check on her frequently, but there was no overt groping. She stumbled to work, stumbled home, and almost pretended she was just walking around with no underwear and wearing a dress every day because she wanted to.

Friday morning she came in to work, determined to make it through the day and into the weekend. Her breath caught in her throat as she walked in and saw her desk in the middle of the foyer, near the break room. Kyle was leaning against it, grinning, while the rest of the staff hung out in the background, trying to look like it was a coincidence they were there. He waved her over, and she reluctantly walked towards him, pushing her arms together and willing her boobs not to bounce.

“Hey Dessie, couple of things. We decided since you’re such a valuable resource, to make you a little more available. We figure if we put you out here, near the break room, you could get coffee for everyone. We just give you a call, you pick up the coffee, and bring it to us.”

She started to protest, and he held up his hand.

“I know, it ain’t glamorous, but it really makes the office run more efficiently. And speaking of which, because of all the help you’ve been lately, Tom agreed to make you employee of the month. Mind if we get a picture for the bulletin board? Great.”

John, the office twerp, was there with the digital camera they kept around for just this purpose before she could even say anything.  She had plastered on her best fake smile, forced herself to pretend she was getting this for her past accomplishments and not because she was fetching coffee, and blinked as the camera flashed.

Kyle nodded, and smiled. “Great, get that printed out Jonny, and we’ll put it up right away.”

They waited silently while she looked at her desk. Her old name plate was gone, this one just said “nigger Dessie.” Shocked that they would  go that far, but she played it off. She dropped her purse on the desk, and noticed her chair had been replaced as well. It was hard plastic on a swivel, with strange curves. “My chair is different.” The words were quiet and numb.

Kyle leapt around the desk. “Oh yeah, we got you one of those ergonomic chairs to help your back. You know, from lugging those ridiculous udders around all day, I know broads have back problems.” She flinched as he grabbed both of her tits and  squeezed them  for emphasis, and continued. “Here, try it out.” He pulled the chair out for her, and slapped her ass, the very picture of misogynistic chivalry.

She sighed and sat down, her body lurching at the odd angle. She was forced to recline in the chair as she settled her weight, and as she leaned her shoulders went back, and her tits popped out. Her legs naturally tended to splay wide around the contours of the chair, and her dress rode up. It also became immediately obvious why Kyle had chosen this spot. She closed her eyes as the cold air from HVAC in the celling poured down on her, and her nipples got hard. They poked through her dress, and she forced herself to breathe, knowing everyone could see them through the fabric.

John came to her rescue. “Um, here you go Dessie.” He held the sheet of paper out face down, and she forced herself awkwardly out of the chair. She took the picture and practically ran to the bulletin board, anything to get away from the lewd display that chair made of her body. She grabbed pushpins, and put the picture up on the bulletin board. Her thigh muscles twitched, and her pussy got damp as she saw the picture. It was just her tits. No sign of her face, no sign of her, just two ridiculous large udders obviously not wearing a bra, and her name “nigger Dessie”  in Comic Sans across the top, and “Employee of the Month” across the bottom.

She took a deep breath, and put it up. She turned around to see everyone looking at her, and gave a wan smile. “Thanks, guys.” Her pussy clenched again and again as she thanked her oppressors for demeaning her.

There was a brief cheer, and polite applause. Tom opened his mouth, started to speak, then shrugged and walked away. Even Kyle just grinned and shook his head, then walked away leaving her to return to her desk in peace.

She spent all weekend playing with herself, imaging what other indignities could be heaped on her. New nicknames piled up in her fantasies. “Jiggles Coon. Dessie-Q. Little nigger Dessie,  Creamcheese darkie. Udders.  Shakes.  Nigger Tits.” More and more degrading scenarios creeped into her mind as she played with herself. Office gangbangs, sucking cock, leaning over her desk as faceless co-workers slammed into her cunt from behind.

By the time she got to work on Monday, she was licking her lips and clenching her thighs every time Kyle came out of his office, waiting for new humiliations. He waited almost half the day before adding to her torment with a company  wide email, announcing she had been made head of the new Cleanliness Initiative  (“A Clean Workplace is a Productive Workplace!”), and was now responsible for cleaning the break room after every lunch. To make it easier, she could just take her lunch after everyone else had eaten, and do the cleanup then, and bring everyone their washed and dried dishes.

She had replied with a politely worded thank you, and almost ran into the bathroom to play with herself. From then on she ate lunch in hurried bites while she did everyone else’s dishes on her lunch hour. She couldn’t leave for lunch anymore, she ate alone, and she cleaned up for everyone else. And god her pussy loved it every time she bumped against the sink, practically dry humping it for an hour a day, teasing herself until she was a lust filled nigger hole.

Kyle seemed to know that something in her had broken, and after that her little humiliations were quick and never ending. She did the Christmas and birthday shopping for the staff, buying their wives and kids nice clothing and toys and presenting them with receipts and gift wrapped packages. Kyle always insisted on taking her out afterwards in acknowledgment of her being so helpful, but they went to the local thrift stores and she always emerged with the trashiest looking clothes they could find. These were her new work clothes and constantly gave glimpses of her tits or flashed her pussy across the room. A camera installed under her desk “to monitor workplace efficiency and time at desk” fed into a monitor in the break room, and gave tantalizing glimpses of her cunt as she swiveled in her chair. He sent her a racist audio file to help improve her focus, something called “nigger Mind Melter,”  and told her to listen to it at least twice a day. She could barely keep her fingers out of her cunt after that, but at least her humiliation was almost private.  Until it wasn’t.

He brought in coffee for everyone, what he always called “That European shit” before, and even got what she usually ordered when she splurged on it herself. She had downed half the large cup before getting up to go the bathroom. Yellow caution tape was stretched across the door, and a loud red “Out of Order” sign was taped there. She clenched her bladder and walked to Kyle’s cubicle. He made her wait outside, standing there, shifting from foot to foot as her bladder screamed in protest. He was talking about some sports team or another, and just as she turned to walk back to her desk she heard the phone slam down.

“What can I do for you Sweet Pea?” He drew out the word pea and leaned back in his chair.

She folded her hands in front of her. “Well, I was just wondering, do you know when the ladies room will be fixed?”

He shrugged. “Nah, not really. Tell you what, if you need to use the can, just tell me, and I’ll go into the men’s to make sure it’s clear, and stand guard for you. That way no one walks in on anyone. Okay?”

She nodded. He was actually being reasonable. “Okay, I could really use-“

“One sec!” He held up his hand and picked up the phone, punching in numbers. She stood there, waiting, while he dialed then cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. “Sorry Dessie, could you wait outside? This’ll just take a sec.”

She stepped out as he brayed a “Hey Tom!” into the phone. The pressure in her bladder grew as he talked and she stood outside his office like an errant school girl waiting on the principal. She was actually whimpering when he finally walked out, grabbed her by her butt  and started walking.

She almost sobbed in relief, but started when they turned towards the conference room instead of the bathrooms. “But Kyle, I really need-“

He slapped his forehead. “Ah Dessie, I’m sorry, but you really should have said something. It’s time for your presentation now.”

“Presentation? What presentation?” She stumbled along, fear suddenly taking her mind off her need to piss at last.

“You know, on your project. Since you complained about getting coffee at the staff meeting, I felt kind of bad and I figured I’d let you do the final presentation on it.”

She stammered and stuttered as he frog marched into the conference room and up in front of everyone. “Slides are ready, you just do your thing.”

He left her there at the front of the room, alone, the light from the projector blinding her. She could imagine them leaning forward, staring at her tits and the outline of her pussy through the thin, trashy, second hand dress. All of them, in their hard plastic chairs with their cheap shirts.

“Ahem, ready whenever you are Dessie.” Tom’s voice came out of the darkness.

She blinked back tears, trying to think of anything but the rush in her cunt and how badly she needed to piss. “I’m- I’m- I’m really sorry, I forgot my notes.”

“Well,  just use the powerpoint slides and walk us through it.”

She looked behind her. Meaningless figures, charts, graphs, she recognized them but couldn’t remember what they meant. She raised one arm to shield her eyes, and tried to make out faces in the darkness. “I- I- I- can’t. I’m sorry.” She looked down at the floor, and twisted her hands in each other.

Kyle was there, murmuring in her ear, then looking out into the audience. “Hey Tom, this is my fault, I been putting a lot on little nigger Dessie’s plate lately, I’ll handle this.” One of his hands was on his elbow, and the other suddenly on her side, pushing on her bladder.

The sense of relief and shock of sudden pressure was enough. She sobbed a “No!” and crumpled as she felt the warm, acid liquid shooting out of her, staining the front of her dress wet. The smell of piss hit her nose just as Kyle jumped back, and let out a barking laugh. “Whoa, hey, nigger Dessie, no need to go that far!” He barked another laugh and mugged for the audience. “Too bad it ain’t her time of the month or we could just tell people it was one of those abstract paintings on the floor!”

They were laughing at her, and she felt the warm rush of humiliation. She was on her knees, pissing herself in front of all of them, and she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to rip her dress off and roll around in it, playing with herself in a puddle of her own piss on the floor while they laughed at her. She wanted to jam her fingers in her cunt while they lined up to piss on her, opening her mouth, drinking it, feeling it hit her breasts and pussy, drowning in it and choking on it while she came.

Tom’s voice cut through the laughter, gasps, and chatter. “All right, settle down everybody. Nothing to see. We’ll take twenty, Dessie can clean this up, and Kyle can walk us through it when we get back.”

She just sat there as the lights came on and they filed out of the room.

Kyle came back in with a bucket of hot, soapy water and a brush and sponge, and she scrubbed the short beige carpet until it smelled of chemical pine and not her piss. He watched her silently, and then looked down critically. “You did a real good job, nigger Dessie.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the floor, the wet brush still in her hands.

“Hey look, you can’t be in here with your dress all soaked in piss. So why don’t you clean up in the alley out back?”

“Huh?”

He shrugged. “You already got the hot water and sponge. That dress is ruined. I ain’t having you in the office smelling of piss. So just go clean the alley out behind the back door. It’s filthy, and I’m sick of smelling it when I go out to smoke.”

She silently stood up, trying to ignore the way the wet dress plastered itself to her legs, the way everyone watched her as she trudged through the office. It was a hot, humid August day and sweat rolled down and off her tits as she crawled around, scrubbing an alley while Kyle took credit for her project. She worked the grit up with the brush, dumped hot water on it, and herded it towards the storm drain. Carefully scraping up years of ground in cigarette butts, dumped out coffee, dirt, and god knows what else on her knees with her tits hanging below her, her cunt dripping.

Kyle came outside to smoke a cigarette, staring down at her tattered, filthy form, her hair wet and plastered to her forehead as she faced away from him, forcing more detritus towards the drain, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. “Hey, sorry about that. I talked to Tom, the ladies is going to be out for awhile. We figure you can come out here though, use the storm drain.”

“The storm drain?” She looked back at him, some last shred of dignity rebelled at the thought of pissing and shitting in an alley, over an open drain.

“Yeah.” He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, a spot she had just cleaned, and ran the toe of his shoe up her dress, along her thigh until it reached her cunt. She gasped and moaned and whatever small part of her had started to object died. “Yeah, you just come ask me for permission, and if I’m not busy I’ll bring you out here to do your business. We wouldn’t want you out here alone, but don’t worry.” He paused, and pushed the toe of his shoe harder against her cunt. “I’ll watch.”

The muscles in her ass tightened as she gasped and nodded. He walked back into the office, the door thudding shut behind him. She scrubbed harder, horny and frustrated.

Time passed, and it was winter. She squatted awkwardly over the storm drain, her breath and piss steaming in the cold air as the yellow liquid arched from her cunt down the drain. She was beaten now, this was just part of her day. The bathroom was still out of order, and she had nowhere to even temporarily escape the endless humiliations that were heaped on her. This was just another of the indignities that left her cunt dripping and aching. She was used to exposing herself to Kyle now, and to everyone else in the office.

Some of the thrill had even worn off, and her fantasies had gotten more extreme lately. Images of being put on a dog leash and marched through the office on all fours, of doing bizarre gymnastics in a flimsy bikini as part of a company fitness program, of Kyle’s fist and arm sinking into her cunt, of having the company logo tattooed on her ass, of having nigger cunt on her pussy, of being summoned to the men’s room when the urinal wouldn’t flush, of being chained in the supply closet and left there among the paper clips and toner cartridges to be fucked whenever someone wanted a hole filled her head. She held out her hand, and thanked Kyle when he passed her folded squares of toilet paper.  As she wiped, a question popped out of her lips between her chattering teeth. “Why don’t you ever fuck me Kyle?”

“Huh?”

She looked up. He had been checking his phone. She had squatted there, humiliating herself, thanking him for allowing her to piss in an alley while he watched, and he had been checking his phone.

“Why don’t you ever fuck me?  You know you could have me…I’m your nigger now, you know that Kyle.” She reached down and worked the damp toilet paper between the bars of the metal grate. She stood up, shivering in the cold, and thrust out her chest. “I wouldn’t mind.” She licked her lips.

He laughed at her, an actual sound of pure joy instead of his usual braying. “Ah nigger Dessie, you kill me. I got a wife at home, and she’s good to me. Dumber than sled tracks, but what do you expect? She’s a broad. Why would I want to fuck a useless nigger hole like you?”

He turned around and left her in the alley. She leaned against the wall, and fingered herself, gasping out an orgasm in the cold air and licking her fingers before she stumbled back into the office.

Next Monday, Kyle was at her desk. She had barely noticed the young woman waiting at the front door as she marched around her, eyes down. She dropped her purse on her desk, her cunt clenching, hoping today was the day Kyle would finally just tell her to strip down and crawl from cubicle to cubicle, offering all her nigger holes to anyone who wanted them. Instead, he leaned over and gave her a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey  nigger Dessie, I been thinking, and I need to apologize.”

“Huh.” She splayed her body in the chair, shifted her hips to position them in front of the camera, and looked up at him. It didn’t sound like he’d be turning her into the office cum dump today, and she wanted to start up the Mind Melter file and lose herself in its delicious sounds.

Instead Kyle continued. “You got these needs, and it ain’t fair they ain’t being met, with all us old married bastards in this office. You know, the needs you were talking about in the alley.” He made a circle with two of his fingers and inserted another finger in the hole, making a grunting sound. “ nigger….You know what I mean.”

She blushed. God, she could still blush. She wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the sudden thoughts that maybe he would turn her into a public fuck toy, but it felt good to blush again. “Yeah Kyle, I remember.”

“Well,” he pointed over to the young woman, her large breasts carefully mashed down and hidden under her Navy Blue blazer, her conservative slacks and tasteful makeup, the slim leather brief case in her hands. “That’s our new intern, and I’d like you to take lead on this one. She’s got some fancy ideas and is getting a degree in business administration. Be a role model, show her how things are in the real world.” He leaned in close, his rancid breath washing over her. “And remember, if she quits, she flunks the class and all her financial aid and scholarships go bye-bye.”

She had leered back at him, imagining all the things she could do to the young woman. She already had a dog collar at home, just in case Kyle told her to wear one to the office some day, and a nice leather belt, and… so many other things she never got to use. Maybe she could finally take them out of their plastic packaging. “What’s her job profile?”

Kyle laughed his jackass laugh, and dropped a sheet of paper on her desk. There was a long list of competencies and goals, but it was the very bottom item that caught her eye. Highlighted in yellow was the sentence, “Other duties as assigned.”

I didn’t write this, I just changed the name of the characters to protect the innocent.