--Week 4 - Tuesday--
"We have a high score for 'Compliant, Cum-drunk Cunt' here, indeed."
Those were the last words Ortega had said after dumping his cumload into my pussy. Since then, he had risen from the coffee table he had nailed me on, tugged away his cock, and returned to his desk to continue working. He acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary that a panting, fuck happy bimbo ass-istant was lying in his office. As if!
At least, he let me catch my breath 'cause I was so exhausted I could barely lift a limp. I had never gotten fucked like that before. Not only had my archrival managed to make me have a squirting orgasm for the first time ever, he had caused me to get off lots. Actually, I didn't even know how many times I had cum.
"Looks like you enjoyed your hiring party, Missy." Justin told me when he eventually stepped up to me.
The intern had acted as Ortega's taskmaster for the ass-essment center, and obviously he didn't deem his job finished.
"Tomorrow, your new job starts." He added impatiently. "Let's get you ready for that."
Grabbing my arm, the young henchman helped me off the coffee table. Standing on my sky-high white platform heels, I was really wobbly on my legs, so I had to lean on Justin's shoulder to prevent myself from tumbling over. Brushing down the hemline of my white pencil dress and zipping up the clunky golden zipper, he packed up my assets, basically dressing me up like a little kid.
With my outfit back in order, Justin walked me out of the office. On the way, I had to lean on his shoulder to keep upright, 'cause I was still so weak-kneed. The stairway went beyond the consultant floor to a private employee entrance leading straight to the parking lot. Fortunately, we didn't have to walk all the way through the main hallway again.
While getting to my sports car, I was still so occupied with regathering my strength that I didn't even ask where we were going. That became clear when we drove onto the parking lot of the shopping mall.
"Remember, dollie, Mr. Ortega wasn't convinced you'd make a good office bimbo." The intern reminded me. "You proved your job fit but still miss the look. We gotta improve on that."
Woah! Seriously? I stared at the slimeball in total disbelief. He had to be kidding! The fringe hairstyle and sculpted eyebrows? The fake orange tan and vajazzling? The 'LGZ' crown tantoo on my crotch and the bow tan stamp on my lower back? All of it screamed glamour doll, right?
"Mr. Ortega ain't doing half-assed stuff. He's all about shit or bust." Justin explained when he saw my surprise. "All or nothing, that's the stake for you now, yummy dummy."
"You passed two tests and failed one, remember Miss Bimbo?" He further elaborated. "So you get to choose two bimbo upgrades 'n Mr. Ortega chooses one."
Oh wow! That short address left me speechless. My previous slut upgrades hadn't been half-assed, had they? Fine, I had shied away from any permanent modifications. Still, they had totally changed my appearance! That was something, right?
Just when I opened my mouth to retort to Justin's presumption, the memory of the orgasmic frenzy I had endured at Ortega's hands assailed me. The sheer recollection made me groan. It took the wind out of my sails and stifled any kinda protest. Gawd! I needed to relive this sensual frenzy. I needed more of this sexual rapture. If I had to go all bimbo and get further slut upgrades for that, fine, I would do it.
With that debate settled, we walked into the shopping mall. On the way, my brain was running hot with thoughts about possible bimbo upgrades. What had been D-Rod's suggestions again? Oh righty, hoop earrings, dye job, manicure.
Everything I remembered had already been realized. Besides, it wasn't anything permanent. Duh! Everything else wasn't feasible, at least not until tomorrow. Dang! I couldn't come up with creative ideas. I couldn't come up with lotsa ideas, either. I couldn't think clearly at all. Shoot!
Anyhow, I knew I had to make a decision. Justin wouldn't grant me much more time 'cause we had run through half the mall already. That kinda pressure didn't really help so I made a hasty decision. I mean, a fateful decision.
"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm so outta ideas, you know?" I gushed apologetically. "It's so difficult to choose. It's so much difficulter to decide."
"What about this?" I quickly made a suggestion before the slimeball got angry. "I take care of the basics, you know, renewing my tan and manicure and stuff."
"In the meantime, I let you boys make the tough choices." I gushed out my suggestion. "Ortega gets to select two upgrades and you select the other one. Okie?"
Now, it was the intern's turn to look surprised. He quickly recovered, though, and nodded his agreement.
"That's definitely difficult-er than thinking for yourself." He chuckled in response.
Woah! The way he emphasized the wrong comparative, it was obvious he was doing it deliberately. Oh no! Just then, I realized that I had misspoken first. I hadn't even noticed it before. Duh!
Whatever! Obviously, the intern liked my proposition. Relief surged through me when I felt the burden of decision lifted off my shoulders. Yay! At ease with my choice, I turned and tottered to the beauty salon. I only just saw Justin fish his smartphone from his pocket and call Ortega. Oh goodie! He was putting my suggestion into action.
Entering the salon, it felt like a safe haven. Ridiculous, right? Actually, not so much 'cause I knew the place and the beautician. I knew what I wanted and what I had to expect. Going platinum blonde would have been the bimboy thingie but I had just been to the hairdresser a couple of days ago. Besides, I really liked my fringe hairstyle with the golden highlights. So I decided to keep my hair the way it was.
I know, I know. I had to make up for that. So I decided to get an extra layer of spray tan. However, I chose to keep the tan tattoos. It was my way of keeping D-Rod close. Ortega might have taken the charm bracelets off me but he couldn't take the tantoos away. As long as I was wearing them, there was still hope for my man's return. At least, that was what I talked myself into.
Stripping in front of the female beautician didn't feel awkward this time around. I even chatted with her about different beauty products while she removed the old splotchy tan and rubbed off my vajazzlings. A girl gotta take care of her body after all.
When the beautician was done, I checked my renewed spray tan in the mirror. It definitely looked darker 'cause I had chosen honey as color tone instead of regular bronze this time. It also looked way more fake. Kinda like a side effect, the white tantoos stood out way more prominently 'cause color contrast.
This time, I had added the crown to the 'LGZ' letters. I had also decided to go with a larger version of the bow tramp stamp that reached from one hip to the other. Gosh! It looked so cheap. It looked so skanky. My rival and his henchman would love it.
Off to the manicure then. Once again, I felt like I had to go the extra mile, 'cause in the end this was just a brush-up instead of anything new. Last time, I had endlessly looked at pictures of nail styles, until I had carefully chosen French nails that were only a tad longer than appropriate for a business lady.
However, I remembered a picture that had caught my eye the last time. Back then, I had instantly excluded it 'cause it looked so over-the-top. Now, it seemed like the perfect style. After all, bigger was better. That was kinda like a bimbo motto, wasn't it?
When I showed the beautician the picture, she raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word. So I ended up with acrylic nails. They were way thicker than natural nails. This alone was enough to make them look super fake. It also allowed the nails to extend way past my fingertips, so much that the tip was about as long as my nail bed. You could say, the tips were super long.
As style, I chose a square shape with ombré pattern that started out in fire engine red and slowly morphed into white tips. I kinda felt like I had to up the bimbo factor some more, so I let the beautician add sparkly rhinestones in between the red and white polish. It caused my nails to glitter with every move. OMG! My new fake nails were super flashy and super clunky. If that didn't sound like the definition of bimboy.
"No one's ever picked this style before, you know?" The beautician eventually couldn't keep her thoughts to herself. "Never would have taken you to be the first one. Didn't seem like your style, you know, the first time you came here."
The way the woman spoke made it clear that she deemed my new manicure totally tacky, although she had bleached blond hair and fake, pink fingernails herself. Hypocrite much?
"Actually, we made a bet at the salon." She exclaimed. "Sandy over there wagered a pornstar would pick that manicure. But I went with trophy wife."
It was clear that she thought she had won the bet. Obviously, she took me as some trophy bimbo. Probably, she thought D-Rod was some kinda gangsta rapper and I was his current squeeze living off his money. So wrong! So debasing!
"So what is it?" The beautician asked me.
"I mean, it's gotta be something like that, right?" She added when I didn't response at once. "Come on, who else gets away with nails that long? Anybody else needs their hands to do real work, right?"
