The last thing I remember, I was in the waiting room, in for my yearly physical. My boss had scheduled it. It was just a routine exam--temperature, blood pressure, ear, nose, throat. I had been with the company exactly one year, and the company insurance policy required the checkup.
The company was a wonderful place to work. Great pay, benefits, time off, and a boss who really seemed to understand me. Once I passed my physical, I would also receive a raise.
When I woke up, I was still at the doctor's office, but now I was lying back on an exam table, dressed in a flimsy paper gown.
Groggy, I called out "hello?"
A nurse approached, calling "Doctor, she's awake."
The door opened and a man walked in dressed in green scrubs, latex gloves, and a surgeon's mask and cap. His eyes were piercing blue. His look and demeanor scared me. I squirmed slightly and he motioned to the nurse and nodded slightly.
I was still groggy and felt extremely weak as my arms were lifted over my head and buckled into cuffs at the top of the table. My waist was belted down to the able, and my ankles were lifted into stirrups and buckled in securely.
Now a second nurse entered the room, dressed in a starched white uniform, nurse's cap and a surgical mask. Her eyes were familiar.
"Is this my physical," I asked, dazed and more than a little confused.
"No, dear," the first nurse told me, "it is more like your initiation." All three of them laughed. "We know about you, we read your email, log your online sessions, read your files. That is why we hired you in the first place."
The nurse continued, "We have a very strict hierarchy, which you are going to learn about now. Starting next week, you and your boss will be moving upstairs. And your life is going to change. For the better. We've been watching you, we know what you need."
The doctor took out a pair of shears, and cut the paper gown away from my body. The nurses pulled the shredded gown away and disposed of it. I blushed lying naked and bound before three strangers.
The table was adjusted, so my legs were splayed wider and a large exam light shone directly on my pussy. The second nurse held up a remote control and a row of curtains parted, revealing a gallery of seats. Sitting there were two dozen men and women, all dressed impeccably. I scanned the audience and slowly, I began to recognize faces, remember names. People who had left the firm throughout the year, fired, quit, hired away, they were all there and they were all smiling.
The nurse explained. "I know, you thought they all left. No, they were all promoted. They now work upstairs. The way you get promoted is to hire a secretary, well, like you."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell us?" the nurse asked, "or should I read this?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked, innocently, squirming slightly in my bonds, testing them.
She began reading, "Dear Master, My pussy is still aching from the sandpaper torture. . ." she looked at me, "should I continue?"
"We are all dying to know what the sandpaper torture is, precious. It sounds delightful. But first, do you want to tell us?"
I nodded weakly, feeling a wave of humiliation wash over me, "I am a submissive."
The gallery erupted in laughter. "I'd say you are a bit more than that, dear. I'd say you were a masochist, a slut, and very deeply into humiliation and role playing games. At least I hope so, or we've wasted years of our time and yours."
I nodded, blushing, "Yes, I am."
"Well," the nurse continued, "so are most of your friends at work. You can't see them," the nurse told me, "but all those secretaries you thought left? They are up in the gallery, most of them bound and gagged, kneeling at the feet of their masters or mistresses. Most are like you, a few are more extreme in their tastes. You remember Katie?"
I nodded. Katie was the cutest, most adorable little thing you could imagine. Sweet, innocent, Mid-Western farm girl, homecoming queen, butter would melt in her mouth.
"Katie," the nurse told me, "likes to be used as a toilet." The nurse motioned to the gallery. I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it. Katie stood up, naked and bound, blushing brightly. She mouthed the words "Hi, Kimber." I smiled back at her. Across her forehead was the word "TOILET" in big block letters. The man with her raised a large white funnel and held the small end to her lips. She opened her mouth, allowed him to insert the funnel and strap it on her, buckling it behind her head.
I thought of Katie as a human toilet and felt myself grow excited. All three of them noticed and commented upon it.
The nurse remarked to the others, "Happens every time. Now, poor Katie is going to have a tummy full of pee before your session is over. She looks so cute with her belly distended, all full like that. Oh, I forgot to mention, she has a locking catheter. She can only pee when it is released, which sometimes isn't for days. She loves it though."
The nurse looked at me, "And we know what you love too. We know how you need to be treated, what you yearn for, what you crave and we're going to give it to you."
"But, first," she continued, "you need to be initiated, in your own special way. Like all of our girls, you will get the rings and the injections."
The second nurse, placed small metal rings over each of my nipples. She pulled on them, flicking them gently until each was firmly erect, slightly constricted by the ring. She placed small plastic boxes over each, which had a switch and a small electric cord running from them. She flicked the switch down and I felt a slight suction, drawing my nipple in. She flicked the switch up and I felt a very slight tingling in my nipples. Slowly the tingling turned to a slight prickle and then pain.
"These little boxes are slowly piercing your nipples, dear," the voice said. Immediately I recognized the voice, Chrissy, who had been fired a day after I arrived, but who I had been going out with every Wednesday for drinks and dancing.
