Woring 9 to 5

This is a satirical version of the movie 9 to 5, which very nicely satirized sexist male behavior. It's long, but it includes three distinct episodes. In this satire of the satire, the male is substantially more sexist and many of the woman appreciably more compliant. If that doesn't sound at all appealing, or if you don't like stories involving submission or spanking, you really should not read this. You won't like it. If you do find this satire to be too sexist or offensive, please do note that Mr. Hart does meet with his demise and I am working on a sequel, in which the roles are reversed. However, I realize that displeasure with this story could still reflect a more general distaste for submission or spanking, no matter who takes which role. Otherwise, I do hope that you enjoy it!

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This was the first day on the job for Judy Bernly. She had never held an actual job (other than homemaker), but she had to now as she was recently divorced. She was very nervous and wanted to make an excellent first impression. So, she came to her first day so very well dressed in a light blue conservative, nicely tailored, business suit with violet highlights, a matching silk violet blouse and scarf, a pink carnation in her collar, and rather tall heels. To top it off she was wearing a matching violet spring hat. She even had a hat pin to keep it nicely in place. Frankly, it was more like what one would wear to a church social than to work as one among many within a secretarial pool. However, she felt that it displayed how important she took this job. In actuality, it displayed her inexperience and naivete.

She was so anxious and preoccupied that she almost missed her floor on the elevator. She tried to leap through the door as it was closing, but didn't really make it. Her large round glasses that covered her strikingly pretty, large green-blue eyes were almost knocked off her face. She was fortunate that her delightful spring hat did not get crushed.

Violet Newstead would be in charge of her initial training, although at Consolidated Companies Incorporated it was more like an indoctrination.

"Norman, she has never even worked before," Ms. Newstead complained.

"I thought you would be sympathetic. She's recently divorced." Ms. Newstead's own husband had died a number of years ago.

"I am sympathetic, but why do I have to train her? Can't she be within someone else's section?"

"She's very willing. She is the type of secretary that Mr. Hart will appreciate."

"Oh, yes, I see. Alright, send her to me." Ms. Newstead knew what that meant. She didn't care much for Mr. Hart's behavior toward women within the office, but having someone who might in fact help keep Mr. Hart preoccupied and distracted, and out of her own hair, could be a helpful contribution.

Ms. Newstead met Miss Bernly at the entrance to the secretarial pool. She couldn't help but think that she would need a special locker for her hat.

"This is quite a day for me," Miss Bernly exclaimed, with excited anticipation.

"I bet it is."

"I was so nervous I left for work an hour early so I wouldn't be late but I still almost didn't make it. It took me forty-five minutes just to find a parking place!"

"Yes, well, tomorrow use the company parking lot, the entrance is off Kimberly Street."

"Oh, yes, of course, I'm sorry."

"Well, you'll catch on, I'm sure."

"Am I dressed alright, I mean, appropriately?"

"Well, if you have an outfit like this for every day of the week, I don't see why you need to work here."

"Oh, I know, Ms. Newstead, I am sorry. I just wanted to look good on my first day."

"Well, believe me, you will look plenty good to Mr. Hart." Ms. Newstead was sincerely impressed at Miss Bernly's attractiveness. She reminded her of a 30-year old, Jane Fonda, or at least Ms. Fonda dressed to look like a prim and pretty secretary. Mr. Hart would like that indeed.

"Oh, I'm so glad." Miss Bernly smiled with relief. She apparently did not get the particular meaning that Ms. Newstead was implying.

She took Miss Bernly to her desk to explain the various procedures of Consolidated Companies, Incorporated.

Mr. Hart did have a few quite special rules for the ladies, many of which were very familiar to his personal secretary, Doralee Rhodes. Doralee was a southern girl, with a very distinctive southern accent (Tennessean to be specific) and a tremendously pleasant and cheerful disposition. She always had something nice to say about, and to, everyone, unlike Ms. Newstead, who was considerably more realistic, aware, but also rather hard-edged, even cynical.

As they were approaching her desk, Doralee passed them in the hall. She greeted Ms. Newstead with a friendly hello. "Hi Violet, how's everything goin'?"

Ms. Newstead responded in her more businesslike, perhaps even curt, manner. "Hello, Doralee, Mr. Hart was looking for you. I think he wants more coffee." Mr. Hart was one of the many Vice Presidents of Consolidated Companies Incorporated.

Doralee pretended to complain, but still in a quite cheerful manner. "That's great. I just got back gassing up his car. If I'm not fillin' one tank, I'm fillin' another."

Ms. Newstead ignored the pleasant humor. "This is Judy Bernly. Judy's going to be working over in my section." She turned to Judy. "Doralee Rhodes," she said as her way of introducing Miss Bernly to Doralee in as brief a manner as possible. Before they could finish shaking hands Ms. Newstead had walked off and was waving at Miss Bernly to follow her.

Miss Bernly though hesitated, in part to at least shake Doralee's hand, but as well because her eyes went right to the blouse of Doralee.

Doralee was a short little thing, probably not more than five feet tall. She was wearing today a green pullover sweater with quite a sprinkling of small, sparkling rhinestones, along with a white blouse with flashy green and red splashes, stripes and spots. Doralee was a very pretty woman, with curvy and wavy blonde hair (maybe it was colored?) piled up a bit high, but not appreciably high (it was actually a wig).

Her most noticeable feature though, impossible in fact not to notice, no matter how she was dressed, were her breasts. They were quite large; in fact, they were huge. Best guess was 40-20-36. She usually denied that she ever had implants, but at one point she as much appeared to admit to it. Miss Bernly was impressed, or perhaps simply just shocked. "How do you do," she said, somewhat stiffly.

Doralee continued to talk to Miss Bernly as Ms. Newstead walked away. "Everybody been treatin' you real friendly? Showin' you around?"

"Everybody's been very nice, thank you."

Doralee bent over, her cleavage widening. "Good, listen, if there is anything I can do, just give me a holler, cause I know what it's like being the new girl in town."

Miss Bernly replied, "Thank you," appreciating the kindness but still rather uncomfortable, although she was uncomfortable the moment she got out of bed that morning to come to work. As she walked away she looked down at her own, nonexistent cleavage. She felt even a bit more insecure.

Mr. Hart called Miss Rhodes via the intercom from his office. He had already gotten the coffee himself, and was now simply wanting to dictate a letter. "Miss Rhodes, would you grab your pad and bring your pretty face in here please?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Hart."

Mr. Hart was waiting for her behind his desk. He watched her enter the room. She had left the sweater behind.

He always found her to be such a delight to the eye. Her breasts were extremely large, but her most attractive feature might in fact be her blue-green eyes, which truly seemed to sparkle beneath her long, fluttering lashes. She easily won the Miss Apple Blossom contest when she was in high school (the contest which determined the prettiest girl in Locust Ridge, Tennessee), with her rosy cheeks, becoming smile, and gorgeous figure.

She reminded Mr. Hart of this country western singer. As Doralee might say herself, she was a "spittin' image" of Dolly Parton. He wondered if Doralee had even gotten breast surgery to complete the match.

She smiled at him as she closed and locked the door. It was standard Consolidated policy for secretaries to lock the door when they entered the office of a Vice President, and at times even a manager.

As she approached his desk, he said, "Hold it right there."

"What?" she asked.

He spun a finger in the air. "Turn around a second."

Doralee turned to the right, providing him with a really nice profile view of those large breasts as she twisted back to try to get a good look at her bottom. Apparently she wondered if she had sat on something that caused a stain or smudge. Mr. Hart just appreciated that she was also drawing attention to her sweet bottom. "Do I have something on my dress?"

"There's nothing wrong," he replied. With a mischievous grin he added. "Matter of fact, I think everything is very, very right."

Doralee now understood. She gave him an exasperated but understanding smile, sat down (her breasts bobbling as she did), and said, "Shall we begin, Mr. Hart?"

"You know, Doralee, I was thinking precisely just that."

"Now, Mr. Hart, don't you think it's just a bit too early in the morning for something like that? Land sakes, the sun wouldn't even be above the Crawford barn up on the hill back home. I guess I'd have to say the Stratford Building here, but, no matter what place you're at, it's darn early."

"Well, I am sorry, Doralee," disappointment and sarcasm in his voice, "I thought we were a team here at Consolidated. I'm under a great deal of stress, as the leader, trying my best to get as much as I can for all you girls in the pool. It just seems that I should get a bit of consideration and comfort now and then."

Doralee knew he was right about that. "Well, alright sir, what is that I can do you for?"

Mr. Hart grinned. This was why Doralee was the top secretary in the pool. She was indeed a team player, and knew what that meant. "You know how I like to dictate my letters."

Doralee smiled at him. "Oh gosh, Mr. Hart, haven't I done that enough already?"

"I can never get tired of it, Doralee. You're such a pretty little thing. Now, you be a good girl and let me have a little look."

"Oh sir," she replied, the exasperation again in her voice, but she wasn't really offended. It was more like a silly inconvenience for her. She stood up, placed her pen and stenography pad on his desk, and carefully removed her blouse.

She smiled flirtatiously at him as she slowly undid button, after button, after button. With each one her blouse gradually opened. Mr. Hart grew impatient, but he knew the wait would be worth it. He never did tire of seeing her without her blouse.

When she finished unbuttoning, she pulled her blouse open and briefly held it there for him to gaze at the sight of those large, really huge, breasts, encased now in only bulging white lacy cups. She smiled proudly at the evident pleasure on his face as he marveled at her breasts. "Did you have to special order that?" He couldn't imagine that Walmart had that bra size on the rack.

Doralee smiled bashfully. "Now, Mr. Hart, don't ask a girl to tell you her secrets." She fully removed and then carefully folded her blouse. As she bent over to place it on the desk she made sure to bend way over so that he could have a good peek down the open cleavage. She even hesitated at the lowest point, turned up her head to look him in the eye, smiled, and asked flirtatiously, "What are you looking at, Mr. Hart?"

"How would you ever find anything that fell down there, Doralee?"

"Oh Mr. Hart," she giggled. "Now you behave yourself, sir."

"Well, that will depend on how well you behave."

She stood up straight, pushed out her cupped breasts, saluted him, and said, "Yes sir, Mr. Hart." "That's more like it, Miss Rhodes."

She did not wait for his instructions to remove her skirt, which she also carefully folded and laid on his desk. She was wearing matching white lace panties above a white garter belt holding up her white nylons. She stood in front of him, her hands on her cocked hips, smiling as she watched his inspection.

Her breasts looked even larger with her skirt removed. Her hips were so small, the disproportionately large "balloons" (the name Mr. Hart liked to use) appearing gigantic in comparison. "Do you approve, sir?"

"Yes, yes dear, very much so."

"Shall we get back to our letter now?"

"Absolutely Doralee, you're the boss."

She laughed. "Oh Mr. Hart!"

Mr. Hart then dictated a letter to Vernon Henshaw at Metropolitan Mutual. He watched as Doralee's "balloons" wiggled as her pen dashed across the pad. The pad was perched on her lap, her stockinged legs crossed, the top leg kicking as she tried to keep up with his fast speech. He even sped up his dictation to cause further boob bobbling. She didn't mind. She even occasionally looked up to give him an alluring smile, knowing how much he enjoyed watching her take dictation in her undies. She was not only quite fetching in her bra, panties, and nylons, but also an excellent stenographer.

She used John Robert Gregg's phonetic shorthand method, where vowel sounds are optional. She probably would have been hired even if her breasts weren't so large, or wasn't willing to take dictation in her unmentionables. Although, she probably would not have risen so far in the secretarial pool to become his own private secretary.

As he approached the end of the letter Mr. Hart rose from his chair and moved around to the front of his desk. He was displaying quite a tent pole within his dress slacks. He pretended not to notice as he moved up to stand directly in front of her, continuing to dictate.

"Mr. Hart!" Doralee exclaimed, pretending to be shocked.

"I'm sorry, Doralee, did I say something wrong, use some sort of poor grammar?"

"Gracious me, Mr. Hart." She covered her mouth, looking away but peaking back at the rod sticking out his slacks. She reached out with her hand holding the pen and tapped the end of his hard cock with her pen. "You seem to have quite the fishin' pole, Mr. Hart." Mr. Hart looked down and pretended to be surprised at what he saw. "Oh my, I am sorry Miss Rhodes." However, he made no effort to hide himself. "I certainly hope I have not offended you in any way. The last thing I would want to do would be to place one of my prettiest secretaries in an awkward situation."

"Golly, Mr. Hart, no. I wouldn't say that. I reckon it's at least mostly my fault, sitting here in my undies. What's a man like yourself to do? Goodness, I s'pose I would be offended if I hadn't gotten the little general a tad excited."

"Well, I do appreciate your consideration, Miss Rhodes. Some of the secretaries here aren't nearly so understanding. Yes, well, in fact that's why I have a little something for you."

"You do?!" She was sincerely pleased.

Mr. Hart went over to one of the drawers built into the wall shelves. He pulled it open and reached inside to remove a nicely wrapped gift box.

"I bought this for you. I picked it out myself."

"Well, thank you, sir." She liked getting presents, and it was always so very thoughtful and considerate of Mr. Hart to buy her things. "You didn't have to do that. You're so sweet."

She gleefully opened the package. She thought that perhaps it might be a nice scarf. He had previously bought her a very pretty red scarf, with blue and white coloring. This time, though, inside the box, was a pair of pink bikini, lace, see-through panties.

"Mr. Hart, they're so nice, but aren't these rather expensive?"

"It's really nothing, Doralee. It's a small token of my appreciation of your fine work and dedicated service. In fact, I've got a check book on that desk. You just say the word, and I'll write it for whatever you want."

"Oh I can do that right now, Mr. Hart. I can sign your name better than you do."

"But, I want to do this for you."

"Well that's mighty sweet of you, Mr. Hart, but I don't need any more gifts from you. You pay me plenty now as it is. I'm just right proud to be able to make you happy."

"It would make me happy if you tried these panties on, right now, here in my office?"

"Mr. Hart, you're such a scamp. But, I guess I should see if they fit."

Doralee smiled sweetly at Mr. Hart as she grasped the waistband of her panties in her delicate, feminine fingers. As she pulled them down she bent over toward him, her cleavage once again opening up broadly for him to look down. She stopped when the panties were half way down to raise her head up to give him a pretty smile. "Now, Mr. Hart, you're not going to watch me change, are you?"

"Well, I believe I should, Doralee. I do need to see how well they fit."

"But, Mr. Hart, I don't want you to get any more excited than you already are. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Now, don't you let such things worry that pretty little head of yours, Doralee."

"Oh Mr. Hart," she again pretended to complain. She wiggled her bottom as she drew her panties all the way down to her ankles. She then stood back up straight, but being careful to modestly place her left hand over her cunnie. She looked to her new panties draped over the back of the office chair. She realized that she would need both hands to pull them on.

Mr. Hart grinned at her dilemma. But, she grinned back when she realized that she could just turn her back.

However, in doing so she gave Mr. Hart a very nice look at her lusciously rounded bottom, and it was a very endearing set of white cheeks indeed. Doralee stayed in very good shape. The skin was quite smooth, the cheeks were firm, the crack a delectable invitation for pleasure. In all, a soft milky orb with an alluring crevice cut down the middle.

The sight became even more enticing as she bent over to put on her panties. In so doing, her sex came into view. Mr. Hart's eyes followed down the widening crack of her bottom to an even more delicate crack of her cunnie, so deliciously displayed. He squeezed his hard cock through his slacks as Doralee gave him an even better, more open view of her cunt as she stepped into her panties. He openly stroked his fingers along his erection as she again wiggled her bottom as she pulled the panties up her calves and thighs.

When she had them covering her fanny, she pulled and smoothed them so they provided the best possible fit. She then twirled around, spread out her hands, and asked gleefully, "Well, Mr. Hart, what do think?"

"My gracious, Doralee, I think that's the loveliest panties I've ever seen."

"Well of course you'd say that, Mr. Hart. You picked them out. But, I must say, I do agree, Mr. Hart, I think they're very flattering. You have such good taste in clothes."

"Well, I'm just glad you like them, Doralee. I do think they look very attractive on you. I believe I'm going to have to get you a full set, for each day of the week. We can't have you under dressed for the office now, can we?"

"Oh, Mr. Hart. You're just too good to me." She was looking down at her new panties, admiring their delicacy. She could see that they were awfully expensive. However, she did then notice something that concerned her. "Mr. Hart, I didn't realize how delicate the fabric is. You can't see my femininity through these, can you?"

"Oh no, no." Mr. Hart tried to reassure her. "Not at all. They're a bit lacy but still quite modest."

Doralee, however, wasn't convinced. She bent way over, the mouth-watering deep valley between her breasts once again opening up. She turned her face left and right. She could swear that she could see her cunnie lips through the material. She wished that she had a mirror to be sure.

Mr. Hart could see her concern. He sat down in one of the office easy chairs. "Here, you bring those panties over here and let daddy take a look."