Workplace Strip Search

I sat across a gunmetal gray table from her. The worn table had chips along the edges and knicks on its top from long years of hard service, and it was not at all out of place amid the drab cinder block walls of the windowless basement office.

I looked right at her intently. Occasionally, she would look up and, finding herself locked in eye contact with me, she would immediately avert her gaze downward again. She was neither gorgeous nor hideous, and my libido was apparently satisfied with the look of her. She had a pleasing enough looking cherubic face, and had short tightly coiled hair that was dyed a shade of straw blond. She was uncomfortable with her weight, but it gave her nice natural heavy round boobs whose cleavage attracted the eye.

"Well..., you know why you're here?" I asked, mostly to get her to look up. It succeeded in that goal. While she did not maintain eye contact, neither did she look back down in her lap. This allowed her eyes to be attracted to a motion in their periphery and that instinctively made her look up. She looked up to see me pulling on a latex rubber glove of the sort worn by surgeons. I let it snap sharply at my wrist for punctuation before pulling on the other one.

"Y...Yes... well, I heard there was a chip missing, and the person who told me to report here said that it was lost from an area in which I was one of the few individuals with access. I didn't take it though. I don't even have access to the security codes necessary to get into the secure cabinets." She said.

In reality there was no missing chip, just a bored and horny employee (me) holding in my hand a signed employment agreement from her that authorized searches as a condition of employment as well as promising certain discretions regarding company matters. This was a high-tech industry and industrial espionage was a paramount concern. Still, I would not have dared such a bold stunt - almost certain to blow up in my face if done in a foolhardy manner - without having meticulously searched for a suitable subject and then taken great care in observation to confirm my profile of her.

After all, everyone knows these little agreements that one signs don't negate one's legal rights. In other words, the girl could walk right out of the room and there was not a thing I could do except threaten to fire her for breach of her employment agreement. Of course, if she complained to anyone higher up, the jig would be up for me. That's why I didn't just pick the prettiest girl in the company to try this on. The prettiest girl might not be smarter than the girl in front of me, but she would likely be a hell of a lot more confident and less concerned about finding another job. While I was no Adonis, I counted on my relative athleticism and clean-cut features to not only help me be confident, but to make her less likely to challenge me. I had read that masculine men who are relatively more attractive are more easily accepted as authority figures. That's why I picked a woman who was not the type to complain, who did not have a lot of confidence, and who had divorced over a year ago and was known to not have much contact with men due to a shyness problem. It didn't hurt that she was a nice looking lady.

Some have said that I have a bit of a gift for reading people and knowing how they will respond, but it just takes practice observing people and noting what motivates them. I was not so cocky about my abilities that I wasn't a bit nervous about the many ways in which this could all go wrong. However, I suppressed all those fears because I knew that the success of this whole undertaking hinged on me appearing completely confident and in control. I had thought out many of the things that could go wrong, and made contingency plans to mitigate their effects. Beyond that, I had to just hope that I could think well on my feet if it came down to it, but I was driven by the thrill.

"I'm sure you are telling the truth, but you understand that we have to verify these things so that we can eliminate you as a suspect. That's why I am going to have to conduct a strip search as per the policies you were informed of when you started here." I said matter-of-factly.

"Uhh... OK... Isn't a female employee supposed to do the search?" She said nervously.

This was an expected response, and I had developed a contingency plan for it that I hoped would work. Hopefully all the challenges would be this easy to anticipate. The company's policy was that the search be conducted by a security person of the same sex as the searchee, and that a second employee, of the same sex, serve as a witness. "Yes, of course. Sorry, I thought you might want to keep this delicate matter as quiet as possible. If you would like to proceed by the book, I need you to go to Margie Berkel's office and request that she do the search and ask her to send out an email requesting a female volunteer to serve as witness." I said, putting my prey in the dilemma of either being searched by a man without a witness or having the entire office know she was under investigation (Berkel was, conveniently for me, an office gossip.)

"Oh. It's OK. I think I'd rather do it as you suggested." She said in a low tone. "Thank you for being discrete."

"It's quite alright. I know this is uncomfortable for you." I said in a tone of faux-concern, and then abruptly switched gears. "Now, I'm going to need you to disrobe."

The shy woman began to do as I requested. When I didn't turn away, and gave no indication of giving her privacy, she turned around and faced the wall. She moved slowly, as if some force of nature might intervene to save her from this humiliating fate. This was fine with me. I had the afternoon open, and intended to make this last a while myself. I planned to take my time for my own reasons. On one hand, there was no better way to exert my dominance than to be completely unrushed. On the other hand, there was no better way to rattle her nerves than to take my time.

I could tell she was methodically unbuttoning each button down the front of her white blouse. She then untucked the blouse to access the last few buttons that had been below the waist-line of her business-like black skirt. She sucked in a deep slow breath of air when she was done before slipping the blouse off over her shoulders. From the waist up there was now only the white bra straps pressing into her alabaster flesh that stood between her and toplessness.

She seemed to pause a minute, presumably considering whether to jettison her bra. In the end, she decided to lose the skirt, but stay in her undies. She unzipped the short zipper at the side of the skirt, and let the garment drop before stepping out of it one leg at a time. As with the blouse, she nervously smoothed the garment and folded it before putting it on the countertop in front of her. It was a stall tactic to be sure.

"There. See. No microchip." She said trying to portray a confidence that would impose finality on the events at hand. She uncomfortably turned around to face forward, clearly embarrassed but determined to show me that she was not concealing anything on her front side. Her act was weak though. I could hear the little cracking in her voice.

"I'm afraid that's not sufficient. I need to do a full search before I can release you. I'm going to need you to lose the pantyhose, panties, and bra. I'm sorry, but, as you know, a microchip is rather small and can be hidden in a quite tiny space. Therefore, we need to be thorough and methodical. If you just bear with me, I can do a thorough search, and, if nothing is uncovered, you can be on your merry way with no one knowing you were ever here. I know this is tedious and embarrassing, but it's absolutely necessary." I said in an authoritarian tone.

She sighed and then began to reach around behind her back. She unhooked the bra strap and her impressive breasts heaved and rolled forward in slow motion as she eased them out of the bra cups. She set the bra aside, and, after kicking off a pair of pumps, she hooked her thumbs onto the sides of her panties and pantyhose and pushed them both down toward the ground before stepping out of them. She looked up at me and was dismayed to see that I was looking straight at her in the unflattering bent over pose. When she stood back up she put the pantyhose on the counter and then put one arm across in front of both breasts at nipple height and used the other in fig-leaf fashion over her crotch.

I just stood there quietly until she looked up. I wanted her to know I was taking my time, and that I would ogle her to my heart's content before I moved one iota forward. I was glad she couldn't seem to look at me for more than an instant without turning away nervously. I was not ready for her to notice the tenting that had developed in my trousers just yet. There would be a time for that.

"Can I get dressed now?" She asked, noticing that I was just standing there looking at her futile attempt to cover herself.

"As I said, I have to be THOROUGH." I said, making no attempt to disguise my irritation at her hopeful attempt to rush the process.

I then walked up and stood right next to her such that the front of my chest was touching her right deltoid. Beyond not being rushed, invading her space was the second part of my plan to exert my authority over her. I was sure she could feel my warm minty breath on the side of her face. I put my left arm around behind her and put my left hand on her left shoulder as if to steady her. However, I cupped and squeezed the shoulder a little more than was necessary. The act intimated that she was now in my physical control. I then used my right hand to feel under each of her breasts in turn. I moved slowly and was not surprised to see her areolas tighten and her nipples protrude as I man-handled her milk bags. I let my rubber-gloved hands occasionally glide over a nipple. I then began to roughly run my fingers into the tight curls of her hair first on the left side of her head and then on the right. It was at once an intimate and an oddly detached act.

"Actually, lift your breasts up so that I can look on the underside" I demanded, thinking that I would return to the lovely mammaries for another look and, thus, let her know that nothing was over until I said so. She dutifully lifted the heavy orbs, and I went to one knee to carefully observe the underside of each in turn. I took a ridiculous amount of time for my examination and I think her arms were trembling a little bit from the exertion of supporting the weight of the mammoth boobies when I finally signaled that she could let them drop.

I next ran the palms of my gloved hands all over her body slowly as if feeling for the slightest dip. I took a slow tight circling walk around her looking her up and down. I observed every birthmark, childhood scar, and vaccination mark, every imperfection on her milky white flesh was taken in by both my eyes and my hands. My hands roamed over her neck, shoulders, stomach, back, arms, pelvis, buttocks, and legs. I lingered behind her to let her wonder what I was looking at and why it was taking so long. I let her feel the warm of my breath on the nape of her neck as my hands wandered around apparently aimlessly.

Stopping in front of her, I squatted down so that I could run my hands over her legs. This put me at eye level with the neatly trimmed patch of brunette pubic hair above her pussy. I let my fingers rake slowly through that patch. For the sake of appearances, I even had her lift each foot in turn so that I could inspect her soles. Of course, this required me making her face the other direction. When she turned around, I was looking right in her crack.

She seemed to think we were about done, and she was clearly dismayed when I delivered my next statement. "So far so good. It looks like there're only two places left to check, but, unfortunately, they are the most awkward of all. Could you go over to that top drawer, and get me the tube that's in there?" I had prepositioned the tube of lube nonchalantly in the drawer so it seemed like it was there all the time, as if the corporation regularly literally anally reamed employees. Of course, it was only figuratively that the corporation anally reamed employees. I remembered my friend's father used to make his son get a belt whenever the young man got in trouble. The friend used to say that there was nothing more demoralizing than being forced to be complicit in one's own punishment. I hoped that that was true. That was why I asked her to get the lube.

The woman didn't seem to know how to react when she read that the tube's contents were lubricant for use in and on the human body. She brought it over to me meekly, and handed it to me wordlessly. I granted her the relative dignity of saying nothing about it. However, I did have to give her some instruction. "Alright, I need you to get up on the table on hands and knees." I said.

She slowly complied. Once she was on hands and knees up on the table, I set the lube down next to her calf, and spread her ass cheeks dutifully looking down the length of her crack. I then let go. I methodically applied the lube to my right index finger, and rolled index and middle finger around each other to get them both coated. I then used my left hand and the palm of my right to reopen her butt-cheeks. I used the thumb and fingers of my left hand to keep the cheeks spread and her sphincter exposed. I positioned the tip of my right index finger on her tight little bung. "This is going to present a little discomfort." As I said this, I pushed the solitary finger in up to about the middle knuckle. I worked it in a few times on the pretext of gently breaking in her ass and coating it with lube. However, I was not too gentle because instead of going straight in and out, I let my finger absentmindedly bounce around the sensitive nerve junctions on the periphery of her anus. It wasn't quite ringing the dinner bell, but it was a subdued version of it. After a few strokes I had worked the entire finger in up to its base. When I withdrew the finger, I did so for only long enough for her to think it was over before I eased in two fingers, the index and middle fingers, and began repeating the process.

"Sorry, I thought I felt something." I said in a half-hearted attempt to explain why I had re-breeched her. Of course, I didn't bother explaining why the second time the probe was twice as thick. After I withdrew from her butthole for the second time, I spoke again: "OK, almost done now. If I can get you to flip over onto your back, we'll be done shortly."

She gasped a little as she lay on the icy cold metal surface of the tabletop on her bare back. She didn't even have to be told to put her feet flat on the table with her knees pointed up in the air and spread sufficiently wide to grant me unfettered access to her cunt. She intuitively knew that that was what was next. It was, after all, the logical progression of events.

I stripped off the glove that had become soiled during the anal probing and tossed it into the trash. I then removed the other and put it in the trash as well. I leisurely washed my hands with hand sanitizer before putting on two fresh gloves. Then I stood at the foot of the table and just looked down between woman's knees as if admiring her pussy. I point of fact, I was admiring her pussy. I had a full-bore stiffy by this point, but she couldn't see it from her vantage point.

As I reached down between her creamy thighs with my gloved hands in order to spread her labia open for access, I realized that I was at a critical juncture in the process. What I would find next would determine how I proceeded, and how much fun I would likely be able to have. I was thrilled when I heard a moist almost smacking noise as I parted the woman's pussy lips. Her cunt was drenched with her own natural lubricant. The sight of the sickly florescent light shimmering off her clit was beautiful to me.

I looked up at the woman's face, and it was red with embarrassment. "Are you ashamed that your cunt is all sloppy from this ordeal?"

She looked up, shocked at what I had said, and then, locking eyes with me, looked down without saying a word.

"It's rude to ignore a man, aren't you going to answer my question?" I pressed.

She then nodded her head up and down in indication of the affirmative.

"Don't be ashamed. Embrace who you are. Look, I know what happened. You saw that I had grown a big boner in my pants [I stepped around the table at a distance that would allow her to see my uncomfortably restrained cock pressing a lump into my slacks] and you want to make me happy and satisfied. There is nothing wrong with existing to sexually satisfy others. So what if it makes you a whore. Embrace your inner whore. Now, tell me you want to make me cum." I said.

"I want to make you cum." She said weakly.

"Good girl. That's very good." I said as I unbuckled my trousers and let them drop to the floor. I then pushed my boxers down causing my cock to catch and spring up with an undulating bounce. "Stroke it." I said as I got close enough to the table that the woman could take my cock in hand and give it a few manual pumps. My cock head became dark purple as an impossible amount of blood rushed to my unit.

I crawled up on the table and straddled the woman's chest. I pressed my tip against her mouth and her lips parted yielding to the oral penetration. I began to thrust into her mouth and she began to suck me. Occasionally I went too far and left her gagging and gasping, but generally she did a good job of pleasuring me and satiating my meat without requiring me to be stern or punitive.

"You are a good little cock-sucker. Let me feel those nice soft titties." As I said the latter I moved down a little and dropped my shaft into the cleft between her bosoms. She pressed the two spectacular titties together to envelope my cock in warmth and softness. I proceeded to thrust, and each time my member protruded out the top it was darker and more engorged. Finally, I let my milky white load fly in a series of waning strands of viscous cum each ending in an irregular shaped globule. I had withheld climax for three weeks since I had come up with this idea, and, therefore, I had an unusual volume of jizm stored in my aching nuts. My shots went as far as her straw blond coils and ran across one of her eyes as well as her nose and her lips. The last of it was in a tiny puddle on her chest.

The nice thing about holding back for so long was that I didn't need much of a break to be ready to give her pussy a ride. "Lick your lips." I gave the command, and seeing her gathering my sauce into her mouth on her tongue gave me all the impetus toward erection that I needed.

I climbed down off the table and moved around into position where I had manually probed her moments before. This time, without asking, I pulled her butt to the very edge of the table by hooking under her knees with my forearms and wrapping my meaty hands around her waist. This allowed me to easily breech her cunt with my cock. I didn't object to her touching herself as I began intently thrusting into her so hard that the table creaked and shook and, occasionally, one of the metal legs made a maddening scraping noise on the linoleum floor. As I caught my rhythm I found the springiness of the table legs would send her rebounding back onto my shaft if I thrust hard enough to bounce the tabletop away in the right manner.

Soon she was beginning to climax. Her love spasms felt good on my shaft, but, having expended my first load already, I had the endurance to keep pounding away through the woman's orgasm such that her climax was extended out to what her reactions implied to be a maddening length. When she was no more than slightly trembling and quaking, I was still putting it to her with all my might. It seemed all too rare that one had the opportunity to fuck a woman as rough as one wanted with only concern for one's own pleasure, and so I took full advantage of the opportunity.