Thanks for Donating, Part Two

Read the first part here: Thanks for Donating, Part One


On Friday afternoon, while the rest of the office was counting down the hours until a fun-filled weekend, I was counting down the hours until Beth was the boss of me.  I still didn’t quite get by what she meant by “silly girl stuff” and I knew that her vagueness was part of her own little way of being superior to me.  I was finishing up one last project before the weekend, and reading the last bits of email sent my way.  I always did my best to read the company newsletter, although this week, I was hoping for a bit of a mention:


Subject: Company Newsletter

Body: “...Finally, we would like to recognize Ashlyn Martinez for her remarkable effort for the local food bank.  She successfully raised over $5000, all from independent and small donors, and the charity could not be more grateful.  We would also like to recognize newcomer to the company Elizabeth Haustaff, who also raised an impressive $2300 with efforts earlier in the month.  Both of these ladies know the meaning of hard work and dedication, and we commend
both their achievements.”

I stopped reading after that paragraph.  That was it.  That was what I had sacrificed my weekend and possibly dignity for?  A tiny little mention in a corporate email.  I was seething a bit, when I saw Elizabeth saunter over to my desk.  The office was starting to empty out for the weekend, and I knew she had a vested interest in checking up on me.

“So, I guess the weekend just about starts now, huh winner?”


I sighed.  “Yes, I guess it does.  Still not telling me what’s in store?”

“Nope, but it starts right now.  First, do you have any pets or anything living that depends on you?”

I shook my head.  I hadn’t had a cat for a couple years now, and houseplants were never my thing.

“Good, can I take a peek in there?”  She glanced at my purse, sitting on the desk.

“My purse?” I asked, but she gave me a stern look.  I knew this was part of it, and I dutifully handed it over.

“No, medication or anything in here, huh?”

I said no, but then she fished out a small blue compact case.  “What’s this?” she asked, knowing full well what it was.
“Just birth control.”

“Well, we’ll need this then!” she joked.  “Can’t have you spontaneously reproducing on me!”

I laughed a bit.  Immaculate conception would be the only way I would ever be pregnant these days.  Over the past four years, after I had passed 33, I had hit quite the dry spell.  Men were either boys, immature and going nowhere, or they were already married with three kids.  It was like the whole world ran off to Vegas one day to elope, and forgot to invite me.

Beth slipped the case in her purse, and handed mine back to me.  “Ok, put this in your desk, and lock it.”

I did as I was told, and handed her the key.  She hadn’t asked, but I knew from the look she was giving me, that she shouldn’t have to.  “Good girl,”  she praised, “You may be a natural after all.”

“Was that a test?” I asked.

“I guess, you could see it as that,” she said.  “But it’s also an insurance policy for you.  Your keys, cards, identification, your whole life basically, is in that purse.  It’s locked away, even from me.  I can’t mess your life up too much now.”  I smiled a bit relieved, but a little more worried about what was to come.

The last of the women left, and she took my hand.  “Come on,” she instructed.  “We’re going to the silly little girl’s room.”

I walked in behind her, and she went into the stall.  “Wait here,” she instructed, and I dutifully waited as she used the stall.  When she was finished, she fixed her make up in the mirror, and I looked at her, not realizing I was staring.

“So, what are you?” she asked.  “Like ethnic-wise.  You look mixed?”

“I’m half black and half Mexican.”

She reacted with the same “aha” that most people do when I tell them, like it was just on the tips of their tongues.  “That’s quite a nice mix,” she complimented.  “It makes your skin so smooth and dark, such a delight.  In fact, that’s what I’m going to call you, Mocha Delight!”

She was pleased at this nickname and I smiled.  If it was just going to be some name calling and following orders, the weekend would be a breeze.  Things were looking up for me.

“Now, go into the stall and take off some things for me.  Your shoes, your stockings, and your underwear.”

Things were looking down.  I went into the stall to obey my orders.  I hiked my skirt up a bit, and grasped the waistband of my leggings and underwear, taking them down in one motion.  “My shoes too?”  I asked to confirm.   “Am I going to be barefoot?”

“A little more than barefoot by the end of the weekend, Mocha!” Beth retorted.  She was getting a little bolder in her predictions, knowing that my opportunity to back out was diminishing.  I thought about asking about the walk to her car, I assumed she would be driving me to her place, and about safety, but I assumed such talk would fall on deaf ears.

I passed the items to her under the stall and stepped out, my feet still getting accustomed to the cold tile floor of the women’s bathroom.  The only way out of the office building was through the lobby, which had a polished floor that I would have to be careful not to slip on.

“That’s better,” she said, slipping my shoes, stockings, and the last of my dignity into her oversized handbag.  “Let’s go!”

We walked down to the elevator and stepped inside.  We stepped out into the lobby and I did my best to avoid eye contact with the two security guards on duty.  While I was self-conscious because of my feet, I had a feeling that the eyes of the guards were all on Beth, as she sauntered past them.  “Have a good weekend, fellas,” she teased.  They probably didn’t even notice the barefoot woman that was dutifully following this young beauty.

In the parking lot, my eyes were on the lookout for anything dangerous that I could step on.  Thankfully, she had parked close in the garage, and the rest of the office complex had already gone home.  She unlocked her car, and told me to get into the back.  “Oh,” she said as though she had forgotten something, “when you sit down, be a lamb and remove your bra from under your blouse.”

I sat down and she held the door open to watch me struggle with that instruction.  I looked around to make sure the coast was clear, but I knew that even if it had not been, she would still have required me to do it.  I could see this as a constant ramp up, and I was a bit terrified to even think about what the end of Sunday would look like.  I eventually pulled out the garment, thankfully not losing any shirt buttons in the process.

Beth outstretched her arm, with an expectant look.  I sighed, and handed it over.  I had thought she was going to put in her purse again, but instead, she walked over to the nearby dumpster and put it in.  I stared with a shocked look as it was happening, knowing I was powerless to stop it.  This was her show of strength, stripping me of everything I own.

“Hope that wasn’t a family heirloom,” she teased.  I sat in the backseat, and buckled in, feeling especially strange with nothing on under my clothes and barefoot.  “Come on, kiddo, cheer up, why the long face?”

“Am I allowed to talk?”

She laughed as she backed up.  “Of course, this isn’t a mistress-slave thing we have going here.  You’re just my little toy for the weekend.  Who knows, you may have some fun yourself!”

We took to the road and had a fairly normal conversation.  I knew for Beth this was all part of her manipulation, but even I had to admit, her charm was endearing.  We talked a little office gossip, and she told me about the cooking classes she was taking.

“Tonight, I’m trying this recipe for risotto, to die for,”  she said.  “But, um, you may have something different for dinner.”

We got to her apartment parking lot, and I was relieved that she didn’t ask me to take off anything else.  As long as I could get to her apartment fully clothed, I would take that as a win.  She parked, and I reached to undo my seatbelt, but she stopped me.  “Don’t get out just yet, I have a little surprise.”

She bounced out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk.  She brought out a shopping bag, and I was getting ready for her to order more clothes off.  I looked around and panicked a bit.  It was still light out, and people were around to see!  Beth opened the passenger door, and I saw the shopping bag had the logo of Mill’s Pet Supply.

“See, I got rid of that one thing of yours, but I got you something else in return.  I’m so nice like that!”  She reached into the bag and pulled out a studded dog collar, and a leash.  “Ta da!”

My eyes widened as she took the collar and fitted it around me.  It was a bit loose, but it was still a dog collar, and internally, I was a bit mortified.  She then affixed the leash to the collar, and gave it a playful tug.  “Now, you can undo the seatbelt.”  She stepped back and allowed me to exit the car, collared and the leash dangling in front of me.

“Are you going to lead me, or something?”

“No,” she said.  “I have a reputation to uphold here, you’ll just walk with a neat little accessory.  Didn’t I tell you, silly girl stuff?”

She lead the way, but let the leash dangle.  It reached down to the ground, and I had attempted to hold it, to make sure I didn’t trip, but Beth knocked it out of my hand.  “No, bad Mocha!”  I walked the rest of the way keeping my hands off the leash, not wanting to know what awaited for me if I willfully disobeyed her.

We reached her apartment and I looked at my reflection in her window, as she fished for her keys.  I was quite a sight, with the leash dangling, and my dark skin very noticeable through my white blouse.  If you were looking, you would easily see that I wasn’t wearing anything to support my breasts, and I felt every slight breeze between my legs, reminding me that there was nothing underneath.  By now, my feet had also gained quite a bit of dirt, and I knew that the grime on my soles was probably significant by now.

With the door open, Beth entered and kicked off her shoes, and instructed me to wait.  She had also anticipated my dirty feet, and didn’t want me tracking in dirt, so she brought out a basin, filled with water and dishwashing soap, so I could give my feet a quick rinse.  “Now,” she said, “don’t tell me I never did anything for you.”

I soaked my feet and dried them on a towel.  To get them really dry I had to sit on the floor, in my work miniskirt, and rub the towel over my feet, which incidentally flashed my pussy to the world outside Beth’s apartment.  Nobody saw, that I could tell, but I quickly shifted to make sure I remained decent as I dried.  I was then allowed into the apartment, with my leash still dangling in front of me.

Beth had a fairly nice apartment, and I surveyed the place.  Like most people in their early twenties, home decor was limited, and there were lots of bare areas of the floor, but she did seem to have a nice couch, television set, and dining room table.  “So, what do you think?”

“Nice place, is this where I’ll be spending the whole weekend?”

“Tonight at least,” she said.  “I have no plans, so you have none.”  Beth then reached out to me and started undoing buttons with one hand.  I let her advance, one by one, knowing that each button was one step closer to spilling out and showing her everything.

“Do you want me to do that?  Do you want it off?”

“If I wanted it off, Mocha, I would tell you to do just that.”  Beth continued at a snail’s pace, until all the buttons were done and my shirt was open.  To my surprise, and dismay a bit, she did not brush the shirt away to stare, she just turned and walked away.

“I’m going to do some cooking now, you are not to rebutton that under any circumstances.  Ok, Mocha?”

“Yes,” I said.  “Um, should I continue to call you Beth?  Since you have a name for me, should I have a name for you, when I’m like this?”

“A very good point, Mocha Delight!”  Beth thought a bit.  “Just Miss is good.”  She then sauntered to the kitchen to start boiling some water.  I sat on the couch, and surveyed myself and my surroundings.  So far, so good, nothing too crazy.  I was sitting here, with a collar and leash around my neck, but at least I had most of my clothes on, kind of.  Just as I was about to reach over to the coffee table to get the remote, I heard a loud crash in the kitchen.  I stood and turned to the kitchen, to see that Beth had dropped a jar of pasta sauce, and the jar, mostly unbroken, was on the floor.  The sauce was dripping out onto the linoleum, evidently it was an already opened jar and it had slipped.

“Oh silly me,” Beth said.  “Mocha, be a dear and clean that up for me.”

I knelt down and picked up the pieces of the jar and threw it in the trash, scooping up the congealed mess of the tomato sauce in the process.  My shirt fell open in this process and my breasts dangled, as I served as maid for Beth.  When I rose to throw the glass in the trash, my shirt fell away, exposing my breasts to the cool air, but of course, I did nothing to cover myself up more.  I figured this was Beth’s goal, and why she dropped the sauce to begin with.

I reached for the paper towels to clean up the remains of the sauce, but my hands were met with another whack from Beth.  “No,” she said.  “Let’s not kill any more trees, you can use your skirt.”

I sighed a bit, but did not protest.  She looked at me, expecting a show, and I was bound to give it to her.  I knew this would completely soil my skirt, ruining it for the weekend, and that was the idea.  I reached behind my back and unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to my feet in a puddle of cloth.  I stepped out, and caught Beth looking at my pussy, smiling in delight.  I knelt on the floor, my professional outfit reduced to a rag, and pressed the fabric against the pasta sauce.

I scrubbed a bit, and was surprised at how well the sauce was soaked up by the skirt.  I didn’t think it would work well, but the sauce was refrigerated, and came up rather quickly.  My blouse fell open for a second time as I scrubbed, and my movements forced my breasts to sway rhythmically under me, like I was being fucked from behind.  I looked up at Beth cooking, and she looked at me, in the corner of her eye, loving every minute of reducing me to a cleaner that had no limits when it came to abject humiliation.

When I had scrubbed to her satisfaction, which was a few minutes after the raggedy fabric had stopped soaking up red sauce, she opened the trash can again, and told me to place the rag inside.  It was beyond cleaning at this point, and I was glad she wasn’t going to make me explain to the dry cleaner what happened.  

However, I was getting worried.  At this point, I only had my blouse left, and no other clothes to even go outside of the apartment in.  I could only hope she had something in my size, or would get something for me to wear at the end of the weekend.  I kept squatting on the floor, just to hide as much as I could from her eyes, but of course Beth had other plans.  She always has other plans.

“Up, come on, get up, let’s see you!”  I rose reluctantly, crossing my legs a bit as I stood, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, and mentally placing myself in a locker room, where this kind of exposure could be dealt with.  Beth shattered this illusion handily.

“Oh, look at you, being a little lazy, I guess your little delight hasn’t seen much action lately.  There’s a little bit of overgrowth.”  She chuckled at herself at that one.  “No problem, there’s time before dinner.  Get into the bathroom and fix it, all off!”