Marta adjusted her top as she walked down the aisle toward the break room. She glanced around, smiling and greeting anyone who made eye contact. Always important to do the rounds in the morning. Still, she felt weirdly nervous. Did anyone know about the writing?
It had been late Friday night when she’d learned about the words on her back. She’d taken a gorgeous man home from the bar and after some makeouts and a little heavy petting he was ready to go. Marta had turned around and bent over, but when she’d looked over her shoulder to tell him to fuck her, he’d been staring down at her and obviously trying not to laugh.
To give him credit, he’d been a gentleman about it, helping her scrub off the ink in the shower, and she’d let him cum in her ass to show her gratitude. But she still felt a little shaken. It had been a week since she’d gone on a real bender, and she figured maybe someone had done it then while she was passed out. But had she worn anything thin or low-backed since? She couldn’t remember. The thought that she’d wandered around with “I AM A BITCH” emblazoned across her back made her shudder.
Fortunately, nobody was giving her weird looks or avoiding her, so she was probably safe. Hell even Stevens gave her a smile, and he usually seemed to really dislike her. That really bothered Marta. Not just because it made it harder to get things done, but because she really hated letting someone dislike her, especially someone at all important. She wished she could get Jake in her corner, but it just wasn’t happening.
No matter, she thought as she poured her morning coffee. It wasn’t like he actively opposed her or anything. He just seemed weirdly immune to charm. But he’d smiled today. Maybe he liked her new skirt?
Marta wasn’t sure she liked this one. It was a pencil skirt, tailored to be very tight around the hips. She liked the way it showed off her figure; it was almost as good as a pair of leggings when she was walking. But it limited movement a little. And it sure seemed drafty in the office with the A/C on.
She ran her hands down her hips, smoothing the lines of the skirt, and picked up her coffee mug. Time to go by I.T. and-
Marta stopped. Looked around. She touched her hip again.
What the fuck?
There was no way. Just no way that she’d forgotten again. She was certain she remembered putting on her blue thong this morning. But she was equally certain that she wasn’t wearing it now. Just to confirm it to herself, she carefully slid a finger under the tight waist of the skirt, and found nothing but the bare skin of her hip.
Marta hurried back to her desk, sitting in her chair while she thought this through. Morning, shower, breakfast, closet… matching bra and panties today, and the white top with the low round neck. But definitely matching bra and panties.
She turned to her computer, opening her email to check the day’s schedule, but the inbox caught her eye. There was a message there… from herself. No body, just a single sentence in the subject:
“Subject: I see you got my message.”
Marta shivered, but not because of her missing underwear. This was just creepy. She deleted the email, but then another appeared.
“Subject: An attitude adjustment will be required.”
Marta opened the message. This one had a little more to it:
“Hello, Marta. This is your conscience writing. Or, what passes for one. You’ve been ignoring me for too long, so I need to take drastic action.
“I’m tired of us flaunting our body like a whore, teasing men to get attention and using them for favors. We should do our own work and let everyone else get to it.
“Consequently, I’ve decided to punish you. Don’t worry, I didn’t use anyone you know to get the writing on our back. But if you keep it up, you won’t like the consequences.
“Think it over. Just to prove my point, I’ll give you a present. Enjoy. -MC”
Marta stared at the screen in disbelief. This had to be a prank. It had to-
“Mmmmnnfff.”
It took Marta a second to realize that the moaning was coming from herself, and another to figure out why she was cumming. Her skirt was pushed up to her hips, and three fingers of her right hand were buried inside herself, pumping in and out entirely on reflex. She gasped and pulled them out, frantically pushing her skirt back down again.
Her jaw hurt. That was because of the piece of fabric stuffed into her mouth. She pulled it out, unthinkingly using her wet right hand and getting a taste of herself in the process, and unbunched it.
It was her blue thong. The one she’d put on this morning. She looked around, making sure nobody had seen what just happened, and shoved them in her purse, but when she pulled her hand back out there was a note between her fingers and the panties were gone. Shaking a little, she unfolded and read the note:
“I’ll just hang on to these. You don’t need them. -MC” Read more »