Working The Boss

This is my submission for the

2021 On The Job

Story Event.

Michelle and I were doing some late-night stocking. I had been forced to keep my doors closed for eight months, but the governor had allowed us to open at limited occupancy. From the first day, there was a line at the door, and after a couple weeks of open business, I was beyond relieved to have made enough profit to update my collection. We had just gotten all of the spring dresses in, and the two of us had been in the back adding them to the inventory for hours. Once that was finished, we were ready to go make some room for them in the store.

"Michelle! You left the damn gate up again."

"I locked the door."

"You know I get nervous being here at night. You're lucky we're friends, 'cause sometimes you can be a lousy employee."

"I didn't see anyone else back there helping you."

"Point taken."

"Alright, Boss Lady. You get the gate, and I'll flip on some lights."

We separated to do our tasks, but the silence of the room was shattered by a male voice, "Sorry Ladies, but I can't let you do that."

We both screamed and instinctively dove down behind racks of clothes.

"No, no, no stand up and raise your hands where I can see them, or I'll shoot you through the clothes."

I heard him say, "There's one," and knew that Michelle must have popped up. I was paralyzed with fear. We were two women in a store with someone who said they have a gun. My head was running through every episode of Forensic Files and Unsolved Mysteries. There probably wasn't anyone in the adjoining shops to hear us scream. Someone at the Applebee's across the street might have been able to hear a gunshot from the parking lot, but it wouldn't matter by then. So, I stood up and raised my hands.

He was standing about ten feet from the register. I was about to tell him that he was being recorded on security camera to scare him away, but when I looked at the camera it was pointed in the wrong direction. So was the one at the door. Someone must have come in during the day and created a blind spot.

Michelle looked to me and said, "It'll be okay, Emma." She seemed nervous, but unafraid, and I felt calmer after seeing her.

"Get over here and put your phones on the counter."

I walked slowly, but with every second I was still alive, I felt calmer. Really, I think it was just how together Michelle looked that soothed me. My eyes had adjusted to the dark well enough to see that she had actually rolled her eyes at how slowly I was moving. It was like she was just checking her watch for this to be over.

I put my phone on the counter. He told me to put my hands down and open the register. I said, "I'm sorry, but there's no money in there. We empty it at close and there's a timer on our safe. We can't get any money until 8:30 AM tomorrow."

"Shit!"

I tried to calm him, "I'm sorry. We're insured. I'd give it to you if it were there."

"Just show me the empty tray. How can I be sure you're not lying?"

Michelle chimed in with, "I'm sorry Emma."

"Sorry for what?"

"I didn't actually empty the register. I'm opening alone tomorrow, and I just didn't feel like messing with it."

I popped open the register and was relieved to see money in there. Something struck me as odd about it, but I couldn't quite figure out what. I was just happy that the man could get what he came for. Hopefully, he would leave, and leave us alone.

"Nice work ladies. Now you bring the money and your phones. Wait! Why is there only one phone?" He pointed the gun at Michelle. "Put your fuckin phone on the counter right now!"

"I can't. It's in the back. I can get it real quick."

"No you fuckin can't. I'm not letting you out of my sight much less with a damn phone. Empty your pockets. Wait, never mind. Take off your clothes."

"What!?"

"I don't trust you not to have stashed your phone while you were ducked down. You act too much like you know something. Look, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I want to go to prison even less. Get naked or get dead."

I was starting to think that Michelle was some kind of superhero. Even while being forced to strip, she didn't seem upset at all. If anything, I would describe her mannerisms as impatient. Until that is, she started taking off her clothes. Then she seemed something different altogether.

She dropped the blazer we wear as our uniform behind her on the floor revealing a spaghetti strap cami tucked into her pencil skirt. Then things got weird. Instead of pulling it over her head, she crossed her arms to slide her cami and bra straps off at the same time and began to slowly glide them down her arms. I assumed she was trying to seduce the criminal, but why? He was about to take the money and leave.

Then her eyes looked right into mine, her lips parted just slightly, and her breasts sprang free. They were full and heavy, her nipples ready to cut glass. Why was she looking at me? Was I supposed to do something while he was distracted? If I was, then I was failing, but I was frozen. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was my pounding heart, but seeing her hardened nipples made me aware of my own rubbing against my bra. More than that, my pussy was wet. I wished she'd stop looking in my eyes. What the hell was happening? Is that how people react to mortal danger?

Michelle was sliding all her clothes over her hips at once. Her top and her bra were joined by her skirt, hose, and underwear. As the clothes lowered, there was indeed something stashed in her underwear, but it wasn't a phone. Resting on her underwear, riding them down her legs like it was taking the elevator, was an egg shaped vibrator.

"Whoa, what is that?!" said the criminal who had no right to judge my friend.

"I like to wear it at work sometimes. Makes the day more interesting."

"It's really none of your business," I said confidently, defiantly even. I felt like Michelle could no longer be the assured one, now that she was vulnerable and exposed, but then I instantly regretted provoking him.

"Put it back in."

"Excuse me?"

"Put it back in. It isn't a question."

"Okay, okay, but I'm going to need it turned on. It has a remote in the pocket of my blazer." Michelle bent to reach for her pile of clothes but was stopped.

"No, I still don't trust you. Kick your clothes over to your friend, she can turn it on for you."

Michelle hooked her toes under her clothes and flung them over to me. I fished in her jacket pocket and sure enough, there was a simple remote with an on/off switch in the inside pocket.

"Good. Now, switch it on and take off your clothes."

"My clothes? Why?"

"I don't know what kind of gadgetry you might be hiding. Plus, it will buy me a little more time when I leave. Like I said, I'm not planning on hurting anyone. Do what I say, and everyone stays alive. Now take off your clothes and bring them to me with the cash and your phone."

"Emma?" Michelle said timidly.

"What?" I was so concerned for her, not only nude, but forced to perform.

"That remote has to be very close to the egg to work."

I closed the distance between us, surprised that the gunman didn't protest, and I asked, "Is it working now."

"No. Turn it off then on again."

I could hear it start to buzz quietly and wondered how many times she had had it inside of her when we were working, or even when we were talking to each other. Had it been on while we were sorting dresses in the back? I had the sudden crazy urge to go back to the pile of clothes and see if her panties were wet.

She started circling the buzzing toy on her clit and along her lips. We were so close I could smell her. I could smell all of her. I could smell the shampoo in her hair, the soap on her skin, and I could smell the excitement building in her pussy as I watched her work it with the egg. I should've looked away, but it didn't even occur to me in the moment.

"I told you to take off your clothes."

Suddenly, I was panicked, as panicked as I had been when I first heard his voice. I couldn't take my clothes off now. My body was betraying me. I was soaked, and the thought of being exposed was only making it worse.

"Take. Them. Off."

I heard a clicking sound come from the gun. I didn't know much about guns, but I knew that whatever that sound was, he was one step closer to killing me. So, I took my clothes off next to my friend while she slid a vibrator into her pussy.

I didn't want it to be erotic, but it was. There was a soft moan when she inserted it and she was clearly staring at my puffy pink nipples. Then, when I slid my bottoms off, her eyes grew wide seeing the glistening red hairs on my sopping wet pussy. She looked into my ashamed green eyes, but there was no shame on her face. There was hunger.

"Jesus Christ, are you two lesbians?"

"No," we both said in sit-com unison.

"Are you sure? 'Cause you two look down to fuck."

"Please don't do that. I'd rather die." I said it and I meant it.

"I ain't no rapist, but your friend there looks to be in a state."

"Well, you made her wear a vibrator. What do you expect?"

"I expect a good friend like you to give her a hand with her situation."

"We told you we aren't lesbians." Then I added, "I'm married."

"I'll make you a deal. Throw me the money, and then I'll leave right after you help her cum. She's already close. It'll be easy."

"You're disgusting."

"I won't lay a finger on you. I'll stay all the way over here and leave the fingering to you."

"That's not even how she...never mind."

"Not how she what?"

Michelle chimed in sounding weak and pitiful, and for the first time, ashamed, "I can only cum with tongues and toys. I've never gotten off on fingers." It was a fact I had learned less than a week ago. We were discussing our sex lives, the way friends often do, and it came up that she didn't have her first orgasm until she was 20, the first time someone went down on her.

"Well, this just got better."

I pleaded, "I don't know how...I'm married." I kept adding that part, like it would matter to this scumbag.

"It's not rocket science." He pointed at me. "You throw me the money." Then, he pointed at Michelle. "You drag that chair over from the dressing room and have a seat."

I grabbed the money to throw it over, then decided to put a hair tie from the counter around it first, so it wouldn't scatter everywhere. That was when I realized what was so odd about the cash register earlier. It was all bills. There wasn't a bit of change in the drawer. I should have figured it out then, but there was too much going on. I flung the money over to the gunman while Michelle pulled over the armchair and sat down, her legs spread obscenely.

The worst part was, I wanted it. I didn't know if it was the situation, the adrenaline, or just Michelle; but he was right. If he wasn't there, I might have already been on her. She was sitting in the chair with her glistening pussy scooted to the edge waiting for me. Her skin was flush, and her hair was down around her shoulders and breasts. She was breathing in heaves and staring into my eyes. The intensity in her eyes, in her whole person, was hypnotic.

I closed the distance between us and got on my knees before her. She licked her lips and I licked mine. Her hips rolled slightly, her body twisting, her pussy reaching for me, calling for me, begging for me. I could feel the gun behind me, but it was fading ever more into the background. I was not being pushed forward by him. I was being pulled forward by her.

An inch away, I could smell her again. It was all for me. I was wet because of her, and she was wet because of me. I could hear the low hum of the egg inside her, but that wasn't why she was flooded. It was because I was about to eat her pussy, and we both knew it. I wanted it to be because of the egg. I wanted to only be doing this for fear of death. I backed my face up a couple of inches, trying to be scared and angry instead of hungry and aroused.

The moonlight was streaming into the dark store and it made Michelle's shining pussy look magical. A bright reflection caught my eye. It was a single teardrop of arousal that had collected at the bottom of her lips. It swelled and filled like a raindrop ready to fall from the clouds. My tongue rolled in my mouth, wanting it. I could still smell her. Her scent filled my nose and mouth, pure femininity. It took me over, and I leaned forward, catching the precarious droplet on my tongue.

My life was never the same again.

Michelle moaned at the contact, and I slid my tongue inside of her. I pushed and reached until the tendons connecting my tongue screamed in protest. I could feel the egg inside of her as I curved my tongue, licking her walls tasting all that was within my reach. She tasted like everything. I tasted sweet, I tasted salt, I tasted savory, I tasted metal, I tasted life, I tasted Michelle, I tasted my future.

I had tapped her like a maple tree and the lubrication that had gathered around the egg ran across all sides of my tongue like pirates swinging from one ship to another. Her essence filled my mouth, my throat, my sinuses, and my brain. My nose was crammed into her folds and I began to suck on her for nourishment. I had never been so aroused in my life. I began to feel woozy, and when I opened my eyes for the first time, I could see black spots forming and growing. Some reflex pulled me away and I sucked in an enormous breath.

I was panting heavily trying to regain my breath and Michelle was looking at me again. That way. That intense stare. Her eyes were commanding me to finish the job, but I got scared. I had gotten so lost I forgot to breathe. It was too intense. I was aware again, like I had broken some spell, then...

She reached behind my head,

and smashed my face into her pussy, grinding up and down. My nose and mouth slid effortlessly across her wet lips. The contours of my face were only the textures of her sex toy. Her hand held me firmly against her and I caught breath when I could, while she fucked my face.

Then I felt it, just above her inner lips, a small, hard bud. It traveled down my face and pulled on my bottom lip before returning up to the bridge of my nose. On the next pass, I caught it in a kiss, sucking it into my mouth, and she froze. I could feel the electricity coursing through her when I started rubbing it with my tongue.

Her hand tightened around a fist of my red hair, pulling deliciously at a thousand roots. I released the suction and started lapping at it like a dog. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and lapped and licked and flicked and sucked. My tongue beat that nub six ways from Sunday before I found the way. I tilted my head to the right, flicking my tongue diagonally across her hood. She drew in a raspy breath, and I knew I had her. For the first time that night, I felt like I was in charge of something. I got to decide if, when, and how she came.

"That's right you slut." Her voice shocked me, but my tongue didn't dare lose its progress. "That's right. Eat it, Slut."

I thought maybe she Just needed dirty talk to get off, so I dismissed it. She was getting very close. I could feel it in her body and hear it in her voice.

I moved my right hand, and I started touching myself.

"That's right. You know what you are. You want to cum too, don't you?"

I managed a muffled "Uh-hu" around my tongue.

"You're not allowed to, yet."

I continued to touch myself. Maybe I was a slut. I was buck naked, eating pussy, rubbing my clit with a gun pointed at me, and I felt like it was the greatest moment of my life. If that's what being a slut feels like, then that's what I wanted. Oh well, but my right hand was my own and would do what I...

**SLAP**

"What the fuck Michelle?"

"Get back to work" She ordered, and I wrapped my arm back around her thigh. She tasted so good, I had tasted myself off of fingers and dicks, but I didn't taste like her. It was like heroin. I was an addict from the first hit. I would do what she said, as long as I could get my fix.

In less than a minute I had her teetering on the edge again, giving my all to push her over. Nothing mattered more than getting her to cum.

"He's gone you know. Oh, that's good right there, right there. He left a couple minutes ago, after you gave him the money. Oh, yes, don't stop. We're all alone, and I'll cum for you if you want it. Keep licking if you want it."

Was it still dirty talk? Did he really leave? Did she watch him leave while I was eating her pussy? No, he must have still been there. That's why we were doing it, right? Regardless, I was gonna make her cum like my life depended on it, because maybe it did.

"Oh, fuck, Emma, I'll cum for you. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma!"

Her hand twisted the fist-full of my hair. Her thighs squeezed my head. She bent in the middle lifting her back off the chair. A brief moment of deafening silence before a guttural, primal sound rattled through her chest. Her hips bucked and she cast me to the floor.

While she was catching her breath, I turned my head to check on the gunman. He was gone. I wasn't surprised. I tried to convince myself that it was dirty talk, but I had believed her. I thought I knew Michelle. We'd been friends for over a year. But this was like a whole different person living in her body. A person I did not know. A person that frightened me. A person I wanted to fuck so bad, I'd sell my soul for one more go.

"That's right Emma, he's gone. You ate my pussy because you liked it."

"You liked it, too." My best effort at a comeback, lying naked on my back with her cum on my face.

"You're right, Emma. I fuckin loved it. I knew I would. That's why I paid for it."

It all made sense. That's why the cash in the drawer wasn't right. It wasn't from the day's business; Michelle had put it in there as payment for the "robber". She had created the blind spot in the cameras. She had seduced me from the first article of clothing all the way through her orgasm. It occurred to me then, that the secret she had shared about only cumming on tongues and toys was probably just part of the set-up.

I was working up to some indignant complaint, but then she was on me. She pushed my shoulders down onto the carpet, and my thankful pussy welcomed two of her fingers. I bit my lip and moaned like the whore I must have been. I had been so wronged. I should have been furious, but I just wanted her to fuck me.

Michelle's fingers curved inside of me. The previously untouched region of my pussy was happy to be explored. Her fingers expertly stroked and massaged every part I never knew I needed to be touched. I felt an odd pressure building. It was like the whole inside of my pussy had swelled, increasing sensation around her fingers. It was an incredible set of new sensations. After a moment, she took her fingers out of me, I felt empty, abandoned, exposed, and manipulated. Her spell had broken again. It was like lifting my head above water for the final time before accepting my fate. Then, I felt the vibrating egg, still slick with her juices, slide into me, and I was her slave again.

She started lightly circling my clit with her fingertip while the egg danced inside of me. The pressure that had filled my pussy felt like it had expanded to my whole body. It was frighteningly intense, like I would explode. My head was swimming, I needed release.

"Do you want to cum, Emma?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want to cum." My whole body felt like it was floating on waves.

"Call me Mistress."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a rational voice was screaming about the absurdity, the audacity. My lips tried to form some salient point through all the moans, but all that I could manage to squeak out was, "Please."