The Modern Free Use Office

In spite of her stern expression, I couldn’t help but find the woman standing in front of my desk attractive. Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun but I bet it would have framed her face very nicely if she let it down. In spite of her conservative business suit, the subtle curves I could make out were quite impressive. Of course, she would have been even more attractive still if she wasn’t giving me the stink-eye.

I was glad I’d taken the liberty of demanding a blowjob from Danielle, one of our up and coming project managers, just before this meeting. She’d balked at first, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t have a thing for being eaten out by a couple of the junior guys on our sales team. It was an excellent opportunity to remind Danielle that even though she was technically management, she was still under the CEO. Literally.

You know the old saying about how shit rolls downhill? Around here, cum and pussy-juice flow downhill.

Given the recent repeal of certain troublesome employment laws, I had taken the liberty of transitioning our office to what might best be termed a ‘Free Use’ approach to employee management. It was exactly what it sounds like: the employees were free for management to use. We had Dildos mounted on most of the chairs, butt-plugs, vibrators -- the works. I loved watching my attractive employees work, knowing that as they went about their routine business they were

filled

in such an intimate fashion.

We weren’t too worried about lawsuits from employees, given they could quit if they didn’t like it (At will employment! Yay!). However, it seemed there was always another damned government organization hell-bent on shutting down productivity. The disdainful expression on my visitor’s face gave me the distinct impression that my little free-use experiment would be coming to an abrupt end.

“Mr. Johnson, I’m Margo Sanders and I’m here on behalf of OSHA, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration. We’ve been had some

very

disturbing reports, and I can tell you that there will be a

full

investigation.”

Ms. Sanders -- As much as I’d like to think of her as Margo, she was definitely a Ms. Sanders -- glanced down at the office chair beside her that she had elected not to sit in. A large red dildo was attached to the center of it. I probably should have moved it before she got here, but it’s not as if she wouldn’t have seen all the others, and we couldn’t exactly get rid of

all

of our chairs, could we?

She leaned down and ran a finger along the shaft of the dildo. It was more erotic than she probably realized. Then, to my surprise, she sniffed her finger. Her eyes briefly flicked over to the box of wipes that sat on my desk along with a little wooden plaque that proclaimed “Keep our office clean!” It was my little way of reminding my employees to clean off the dildo when they stood up. There were other similar signs throughout the office.

“Tell me, sir. Do you know what pthalates are?” Ms. Sanders demanded.

I shifted uneasily. “Uh, no. Can’t say that I do.”

She rubbed her temple in exasperation.

“Pthalates are a toxic class of chemicals. In fact, they are sufficiently toxic that there is a law in Canada against making chew toys out of them, for

dogs.

As such, they have no place in any objects designed for intimate use in humans. And yet, every imitation phallus I have seen since I entered your place of business has been one of these so called “jelly” items. You may wipe them down -- thank goodness for that, but that rubbery smell is a dead give away. As you might imagine Sir, OSHA takes a very dim view of workers being exposed to such hazardous items.”

I blinked. That was not quite what I expected. “So, I just need to get rid of the dildos? And, wait, are there some I can buy that are alright?”

“Steel, glass and platinum cured silicone,” she said matter-of-factually. “Fix it. Well that, and, everything else.”

“Right. Everything else.” I sighed. So, had she just been messing with me to start with?

“Next, let’s talk about your remote controlled vibrators. On my way to your office I saw a remote for a V-JAZ-M30. What other model numbers do you currently have in service?”

“Ummm.” I hesitated, before answering honestly. “I don’t know.”

“Unacceptable,” Sanders declared. “While this isn’t an industrial facility you do have some moderately heavy equipment on your second floor where you do your packaging and shipping. First, you must use a model such that the signal can be blocked within a fifteen foot radius of all heavy machinery, to avoid accidents due to unexpected activation. Second, you must use only remote models that are properly certified to use frequencies that will not interfere with the machinery that you have. V-JAZ products are consumer grade. They are appropriate only for your own home bedroom. For any commercial setting you will need to look at either the Business Adventures R-SEC line, or WorkHard Wi-NOW products. You will find them to be four to five times as expensive, but you’ll be able to find both certified signal blockers, and certifications of the units themselves for compatibility with your equipment. Finally, I expect

full

documentation of all such devices deployed in your place of business. If we don’t keep track of these things, poor quality substitutes sneak in and that’s how we get workplace accidents, isn’t it?”

“Now, speaking of documentation,” she went on. “Instead of doing this piece by piece, why don’t you show me your Office Free Use Policy manual, which I’m assuming every employee has access to, and which should be on file with your HR department. We can go over it to make sure everything is up to code.”

“Hold on,” I said. “You’re telling me that it’s just these little tweaks? Like we can keep on doing... this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “

This

is a highly unsafe work environment, as I’ve just been explaining. So, no, you cannot continue with

this.

Now, where is your written policy?”

“Just-- what I mean is, we can keep doing the whole free use thing?”

“What you’ve clearly been doing, has been a code violation,” She declared, “not a proper Free Use policy. Here.”

She thumped a large manual onto the desk, at least two inches thick. The cover depicted two couples standing in front of a typical corporate office. A stern man in a suit stood next to a woman wearing bunny ears and nothing else. Next to them, was a woman clad in a black business suit next to a man who’s sole item of clothing was his chastity cage. The title read “Your Guide to a Free Use Office: Safe

and

Satisfied”

“More and more offices are going Free Use, you know,” she explained. “It’s like open plan offices in the aughts and teens. They’re everywhere. Did you really believe OSHA couldn’t keep up with the times?”

“Uh, er, I didn’t... I didn’t realize,” I admitted.

“Well, now you do. So, are you going to quit stalling and show me your written policy, or am I going to have to assume it does not exist?”

“Er, it does, sort of,” I said. “Why don’t we go down to the nurse’s office? We do monthly STI screens at no cost to our employees, as well as anyone requests one or when they report a new partner outside the company. The policy really just centers around that screen every month. We do keep those records.”

She nodded. “That’s something at least, but of course, that too is terribly insufficient. The code says bi-weekly, with mandatory screening and notification to all external partners. However, the code also requires an opt-out system for those who refuse to expose themselves to disease, which -- I don’t think you have, do you?”

“Opt out?” I asked. “But I mean... The point is... Shouldn’t that be a decision for management?”

“Oh no,” she said, “you misunderstand, I think. I’m talking about chastity devices. Like the one this gentleman on the cover of the guide is wearing.” She pointed at the manual. “And you can put vibrators -- commercial grade devices mind you, inside the female models or in the anal cavity of the larger full male models. It’s fairly straightforward to minimize opt-outs to those who are sincerely worried about their health.”

“Um.. wow,” I said. “I hadn’t even considered that. That could be interesting.”

“Indeed. However, we need to further discuss this ongoing and, I suspect, ever-expanding safety hazard you have here. I will submit a list of changes after I complete my inspection, and I expect them to be implemented by the end of the week.”

I nodded rapidly. “Of course, of course.”

“Finally,” Ms. Sanders said, “There’s the matter of the required enforcement action. If I tally up the fines for all the code violations I see here, we’re looking at a fine in the range of several hundred thousand dollars.”

“What?!!” This had been going so well. “That could bankrupt us!”

“Hmmm,” The OSHA officer considered. “You have been in good standing up to now, so there may be some room for leniency on this. I may be able to wave the fine, but I’m going to need two things from you. First, both you and your head of HR will need to come down to OSHA headquarters in DC for a two-week training course on implementing a safety-first Free-Use office environment. I can let you off with a slap on the wrist for your first offense if you show a willingness to cooperate and fix your safety issues.”

“Of course,” I rushed to agree. “No problem. Just let me know when and where.”

“Ah, good, I thought so,” she said with a knowing smile. “Second, as I’m going to help you get this place in order, I’d like you to consider me part of the management team at your company. Perhaps you could point me towards a shy, but handsome and well groomed accountant or software developer you have on staff. I want to exercise my perks as part of the leadership team you have here.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that. “Uh, sure. Shy, you say?”

“Oh, yes,” she confirmed. “It’s not as much fun if he doesn’t squirm a bit. It’s not so much the sex, but the feeling of being in

control

. I bet you understand. You seem the type. It’s exhilarating, isn’t it?”

Wordlessly, I flipped to the employee directory and pointed out a couple of our software developers. She was highly intrigued by Wendel Eggleton, our relatively new User Experience specialist. To the best of my knowledge no one had taken any liberties with him yet, though Danielle, our resident man-eater had mentioned she was saving him for a special occasion. Looks like someone was going to beat her to the punch.

I called Wendel and informed him that the safety inspector we had on-site wanted to speak with him in conference room 1A in ten minutes. He was surprised but clearly didn’t suspect a thing.

Before leaving to have her fun with Wendel, the OSHA inspector reached into her briefcase and pulled out a curving jet-black dildo that had to be over ten inches long with a circumference that rivaled a soda can. It was attached to a strap-on harness. “Don’t worry, I brought my own toys. That’s medical-grade silicone. I would never subject anyone to any of the crap you have around here.”

“Ha,” I said. “I think that might be bigger than anything we have here, too. Wendel’s going to go home with a rather sore ass today, isn’t he?”

“Perfectly safe, though. He’ll be fine in a day or two. Though... I bet you’re wondering...” She trailed off

“Wondering what?”

“I bet you’re wondering why I didn’t ask to do you instead,” she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret.

“Well, Ms. Sanders, I am the boss. That probably wouldn’t be appropriate.” I declared. “And I suppose Wendel is more your type?”

Her grin was downright predatory. “Mmmm. I’m just putting off what I’m going to get anyway. OSHA headquarters has also gone free-use, you know. While you’re there for training,

you

will be

our

employees. I’ll be the instructor, and back in DC we have lots of instructive equipment far larger than the little thing I have here for Wendel. We’re going to get to know each other very well, so there’s no need for such formality. You can call me

Mistress Margo.

Training starts on the first of next month. See you then...”

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: The part about the pthalates present in a lot of “jelly” sex toys being toxic, and banned in Canadian dog toys is 100% true. There are a lot of toxic sex toys out there, because sex toy manufacture is not a regulated industry. Avoid that crap! Buy glass, steel or platinum cure silicone. The rest of the story is, regrettably, fiction. Thus concludes this public service announcement courtesy of many fine folks who have only your best orgasms, er, interests at heart.

This story was initially written on a different site in response to the writing prompt: “Dildos on the office chairs, vibrating panties in the work clothes, free-use policies - They implemented many such things. And OSHA caught wind of it.”