Cubicle Pet by Brittany Getsbone

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Cubicle Pet by Brittany Getsbone

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Ambitious junior executive Lucy Park stands at a career crossroads when her dominant supervisor uncovers her falsified expense reports. Faced with professional ruin, she accepts a secret internship that binds her to his every command, transforming the sleek corporate environment into a private arena of escalating power exchange and public risk.

Once a sharp-witted career climber, Lucy finds her confidence tested by Parler's methodical guidance. What begins as reluctant compliance slowly awakens a deeper need within her, blurring the lines between fear of exposure and an addictive craving for the very humiliation that once terrified her. As the demands grow bolder, moving from private obedience to daring office challenges, Lucy battles intense internal conflict between preserving her dignity and surrendering to the thrilling pull of total submission.

This slow-burn tale of workplace dominance and personal transformation delivers pulse-pounding tension, emotional stakes, and seductive intrigue. Readers will be drawn into Lucy's journey from defiant professional to eager participant in a dynamic that redefines power, ambition, and desire in the modern corporate world.

The Exposure

Lucy Park stepped into Parler Carol's office with her shoulders squared and her portfolio tucked under one arm, already rehearsing the numbers for the quarterly review in her head. The glass walls of the open-plan floor gave way to the solid oak door that clicked shut behind her, muting the low hum of keyboards and murmured conversations. Parler sat behind his wide desk, salt-and-pepper hair catching the afternoon light, gray eyes fixed on her with that same calm weight he always carried.

"Close the blinds," he said, voice low and even. Lucy hesitated for half a second before reaching for the remote. The slats lowered with a soft whir, sealing them in.

"You wanted to see me about the expense reports?" she asked, keeping her tone professional, the same sharp edge she used in meetings.

Parler didn't answer right away. He opened a folder on his desk and slid a single printed page toward her. "Sit."

Lucy took the chair opposite him, scanning the page. Her own initials stared back from three separate line items, each one inflated, each one signed off under her authority. The falsified receipts sat right there in black and white.

Her stomach tightened. "These are from last quarter. I can explain the discrepancies. There was a system glitch with the corporate card."

"No glitch," Parler said. He leaned back, the leather chair creaking once. "You adjusted the amounts after the fact. Three times. Each adjustment funneled an extra two thousand into an account that traces back to your brother's consulting firm. That's fraud, Lucy. Not a rounding error."

She felt heat climb her neck. "I was covering a shortfall. The client deliverables were at risk. I can fix it. I'll repay everything this month."

Parler shook his head once. "Repayment doesn't erase the paper trail. HR would terminate you by end of day. Legal would decide whether they want to press charges. You're looking at jail time and a permanent mark on every background check for the rest of your career."

Lucy's fingers tightened on the armrest. "Then what do you want? You didn't call me in here just to list my options."

A small, cold smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Correct. I have an alternative. You resign from your current role and accept a special internship directly under me. Title stays the same on paper for appearances, but your actual duties change. You follow every instruction without argument. In return, these documents disappear. No HR file. No investigation. You keep your salary and the promotion track we discussed last quarter remains open, provided you perform."

She laughed once, short and sharp. "An internship? I'm twenty-eight years old. I've closed seven-figure deals. I'm not fetching your lunch like some college kid."

"You will fetch whatever I tell you to fetch," Parler said. His voice never rose. "And you will do it exactly as instructed. Or you walk out that door and deal with the consequences on your own. Your choice."

Lucy stared at the folder. The numbers blurred for a moment. She thought of her brother's mortgage, the client presentation scheduled for next week, the mortgage payment that cleared only because of the extra cash she'd moved. Pride burned hot in her chest, but fear sat colder underneath it.

"What exactly does this internship entail?" she asked, voice quieter.

"Obedience. Public and private. You start by addressing me as Sir at all times when we're alone. You kneel when I tell you to kneel. You complete every task I assign without hesitation. If you refuse even once, the deal ends and the reports go to HR."

Her pulse thudded in her throat. "This is blackmail."

"It's an arrangement," Parler corrected. "One that keeps you employed and out of handcuffs. Decide now."

Lucy's mind raced through exits, angles, ways to negotiate down to something less humiliating. None of them held. She swallowed. "Fine. I'll do the internship."

"Sir," Parler said.

She met his eyes. The word tasted bitter. "Sir."

"Good." He stood and moved to the small side table where a fresh pot of coffee waited. He poured a single mug, black, no sugar, and set it on the desk in front of him. "First task. Fetch my coffee."

Lucy rose, reaching for the mug.

"On your knees," he added.

She froze. "You're joking."

"I don't joke about instructions. The blinds are closed. No one can see. Crawl behind the desk, bring the mug to me without spilling, and set it on the coaster. That's the task."

Lucy's face burned. She glanced at the closed door, then back at the mug. Every professional instinct screamed to walk out, yet the folder of reports sat open on the desk like a loaded gun. She lowered herself slowly, the pencil skirt riding up her thighs as her knees met the carpet. The wool scratched against her skin.

She crawled the short distance, the movement awkward and deliberate. Her ponytail swung forward. When she reached the side of the desk, she rose just enough to grasp the mug with both hands, careful not to let it slosh. Parler watched, expression unreadable. She backed up on her knees until she was directly in front of him, then lifted the mug onto the coaster.

The position forced her to look up at him. Shame flooded her, hot and sudden, tightening low in her belly in a way that made no sense. She hated the feeling. She also felt the first slick pulse of unexpected wetness between her thighs, the contrast so sharp it startled her.

Parler rested one hand lightly on the top of her head, fingers threading through her dark hair without pulling. "Good girl. That's how you begin."

Lucy stayed where she was, knees pressed into the carpet, skirt bunched, breathing shallow. The heat in her face refused to fade. She told herself it was only fear, only anger at being forced into this. The way her body responded said something else entirely, something she wasn't ready to name.

"Stand up," he said after a long moment. "Tomorrow the real work starts. For now, go finish your reports and come back at six for the next instruction. Don't be late."

Lucy pushed to her feet, legs unsteady for the first step. She smoothed her skirt with shaking hands. "Yes, Sir," she said, the words quieter than she intended.

Parler opened the folder again and closed it with a single decisive snap. "You're dismissed, intern."

She turned and walked to the door, every step carrying the echo of the carpet against her knees and the strange, unwanted throb that still lingered low in her body. The blinds stayed lowered behind her as she stepped back into the fluorescent light of the office floor.

The Meeting

Lucy arrived at the office early, her pencil skirt hugging her hips tighter than usual after the previous day's events. She had barely slept, replaying the way Parler had watched her crawl behind his desk. The word "intern" still stung, but she pushed it down. Today was the quarterly numbers presentation. She needed to stay sharp.

Parler summoned her to his office before the meeting started. He didn't waste time with small talk. "Lift your skirt," he said once the door closed.

Lucy's hands hesitated at her sides. "I have to present in twenty minutes. Can't this wait?"

"No. Lift it now." His voice stayed calm, but the command left no room for argument. She reached down and raised the hem of her skirt, exposing the black lace panties she had chosen that morning. Parler pulled a small, smooth device from his desk drawer. It was curved, discreet, and connected to a remote he kept in his pocket.

"Step out of those," he instructed. "Then put this inside. It'll stay in place during the meeting. I control when it turns on."

She stared at the vibrator for a beat. "You're serious? In front of the whole team?"

"I'm always serious about instructions. Do it, or the deal ends." Lucy swallowed hard. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties and slid them down. The cool air touched her skin as she stepped free. Parler handed her the device without another word. She pressed it against herself, feeling the smooth surface part her folds before it slipped inside. The fullness made her breath catch. She pulled her panties and skirt back into place, the toy seated deep and already warming to her body heat.

"Good girl," Parler said. "You speak only when presenting. No complaints. If you come without permission, you'll kneel under my desk right after the meeting. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir," she answered, voice tight.

The conference room filled quickly. Lucy took her seat near the head of the table, the vibrator shifting slightly with every movement. Parler sat across from her, the remote hidden in his hand beneath the table. Jenna Velmont settled into the chair beside Lucy, flipping through her notes with a sharp glance in Lucy's direction.

"You look tense," Jenna said quietly. "Big presentation nerves?"

"I'm fine," Lucy replied, forcing a smile. She opened her laptop and pulled up the slides. The room settled as the meeting began. Parler gave a brief introduction, then nodded to Lucy. "Lucy will walk us through the numbers."

She stood and moved to the front, clicking to the first slide. Her voice started steady. "Q3 revenue came in at twelve point four million, which puts us three percent ahead of forecast." The vibrator stayed quiet at first. She relaxed into the rhythm of the report, pointing out charts and explaining variances.

Halfway through the projections slide, the toy hummed to life inside her. Low and steady, it pulsed against her inner walls in a rhythm that sent immediate heat flooding between her legs. Lucy's sentence faltered for a split second. She gripped the edge of the table with one hand.

"The, ah, client acquisition cost dropped due to the new campaign," she continued, fighting to keep her tone even. The vibration increased in intensity, pressing right against that sensitive spot. A soft whimper threatened to escape. She coughed to cover it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Parler watched her without expression, thumb moving subtly on the remote. The pulses came in waves now, building then easing just enough to keep her on edge. Lucy's thighs trembled. She felt slickness gathering, her panties growing damp as her body responded without permission. The shame of it, standing there in front of eight colleagues, made her cheeks burn, yet the arousal coiled tighter with every throb.

"Lucy, you okay?" Jenna asked from her seat. "You look flushed."

"Just warm in here," Lucy managed. She clicked to the next slide and kept talking, voice thinner than before. "Operating margin improved to twenty eight percent." The vibrator surged again, harder this time. Her knees nearly buckled. A tiny moan slipped out before she could swallow it. Several heads turned.

She forced a laugh that sounded too high. "Sorry, dry throat. Moving on to expenses." Parler eased the setting back, giving her a moment to breathe. Sweat prickled at the nape of her neck. Her presentation dragged on for what felt like hours, every word a battle against the relentless pulses that started and stopped at Parler's whim. By the time she reached the final slide, her inner muscles clenched around the toy, desperate for more even as her mind screamed at the risk of someone noticing.

The room applauded politely when she finished. Lucy returned to her seat on shaky legs, the vibrator still humming faintly now, a constant reminder. Jenna leaned over. "You sure you're all right? You kept pausing like you were in pain or something."

"I'm fine, Jenna. Just tired." Lucy didn't meet her eyes. The meeting wrapped with a few questions, then everyone began filing out. Parler stayed behind, catching her gaze as the last person left. He clicked the remote off. The sudden absence of vibration left her aching and empty.

Lucy retreated to the small supply closet near the break room, needing a moment alone. She leaned against the shelves, breathing hard. Her body betrayed her completely. She was soaked, the vibrator still nestled inside, and the shame of almost moaning in front of her colleagues sent fresh heat pulsing through her core. She pressed her thighs together, trying to calm the throb, but the memory of the public risk only made the arousal worse.

"This isn't me," she whispered to the empty room. Yet her hand drifted down to press against the front of her skirt, feeling the damp fabric. The need for release warred with the humiliation of how easily Parler had made her body respond. She stayed there until her breathing steadied, knowing she had to return to her desk and face whatever came next.,

After-Hours Filing

Lucy stayed at her desk long after the rest of the floor emptied. The building felt different at night, quieter and colder under the dimmed lights. Parler had sent a message at six thirty instructing her to handle the end-of-month filing in the copy room. She knew better than to question it now. She gathered the stack of reports and headed down the hall, her heels clicking on the tile.

The copy room smelled of toner and warm paper. Lucy set the files on the long table and began sorting them into the correct drawers. She had just finished the first stack when the door opened behind her. Parler stepped inside and closed it with a soft click.

"You're efficient," he said. "But efficiency isn't the only requirement tonight."

Lucy turned to face him, smoothing her skirt. "What else do you need, Sir?"

"Bend over the copier. Hands on the top, feet apart." His tone left no space for debate. Lucy's pulse jumped. She glanced at the machine, then at the small black dome of the security camera mounted in the corner. Milo in IT had access to those feeds, and she wondered if he ever checked them after hours.

"Here?" she asked, voice lower. "Someone could walk by."

"No one is walking by. Do it now." Parler moved closer, his presence filling the small space. Lucy hesitated only a moment before turning and leaning forward. She placed her palms flat on the cool surface of the copier. The machine hummed faintly beneath her. Her skirt rode up as she spread her feet, exposing the backs of her thighs.

Parler stood behind her and rested one hand on the small of her back. "Good. Stay exactly like that." His other hand lifted the hem of her skirt higher, bunching it at her waist. Cool air touched the damp fabric of her panties. The vibrator from earlier still sat inside her, though it remained silent for now.

He brought his palm down on her left cheek in a light, controlled spank. The sound echoed softly in the room. Lucy gasped, the sting blooming into warmth that spread across her skin. Another followed on the right, just firm enough to make her shift her hips. She bit her lip to stay quiet.

"You've been thinking about the meeting all day," Parler said between strikes. "How close you came to making noise in front of everyone. Tell me."

"Yes, Sir," Lucy answered, breath catching on the third spank. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." Her face burned at the admission. Each light smack sent a fresh wave of heat through her, mixing with the shame of the position and the ever-present camera above them. She knew the footage would capture everything, her bent form, Parler's hand on her, the way her body responded despite her mind's protests.

Parler hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them aside. The vibrator shifted slightly as he pressed two fingers against her entrance, testing the slickness there. "You're wet already. Your body knows what it needs even if you fight it." He freed himself from his trousers, the sound of his belt unbuckling loud in the quiet room. Then he positioned himself and pushed inside in one steady thrust, filling her around the vibrator.

Lucy moaned, the sound escaping before she could clamp it down. The stretch and the added pressure of the toy made her legs tremble. Parler gripped her hips and began a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust rocking her forward against the copier. The machine's surface vibrated faintly under her hands with every movement.

"Look at the camera," he instructed. "Acknowledge what it sees." Lucy lifted her eyes to the lens. The red light glowed steadily. She imagined Milo reviewing the tape later, seeing her like this, and the thought sent another rush of conflicting heat through her core. She shouldn't want this. She shouldn't crave the risk or the degradation. Yet her inner walls clenched around Parler, pulling him deeper as her arousal built without mercy.

"This can't be what I am," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Parler leaned over her, his chest against her back, and spoke low near her ear.

"It is exactly what you are becoming. My pet who bends over on command and takes what she's given. Say it."

"I'm your pet, Sir," Lucy answered, the words tumbling out between thrusts. The spanking resumed, light and rhythmic on her already warmed skin, punctuating each movement of his hips. The camera watched. The door could open at any moment. Her body betrayed her again, growing wetter, the pleasure sharpening even as shame twisted in her stomach.

Parler increased his pace slightly, one hand sliding around to press against the front of her, finding her clit through the fabric. Lucy's breath came in short gasps. She fought the urge to push back against him, to beg for more, even as the conflict inside her grew louder. She wanted to hold on to her old self, the ambitious woman who wouldn't allow this. At the same time, the thought of stopping felt impossible.

He finished with a low groan, pulsing deep inside her. Lucy stayed bent over the copier, legs shaking, the evidence of their encounter warm between her thighs. Parler withdrew and adjusted her skirt back into place with surprising care before stepping away.

"Finish the filing," he said. "Then go home. Tomorrow brings the next lesson." He left without another word, the door closing behind him. Lucy remained where she was for a long moment, palms still on the machine, breathing hard. The camera continued its silent recording. She straightened slowly, the sting on her skin and the ache inside reminding her of everything that had just happened. Her mind replayed the words she had spoken and the way her body had answered. The shame burned hot, yet beneath it something new and insistent was taking root, pulling her further into whatever Parler had planned. She gathered the remaining files with unsteady hands, determined to complete the task even as the internal war continued.,

Stress Toy

Lucy stepped into Parler's office at the start of the afternoon, her stomach already tight with anticipation. He had texted her a single instruction that morning. Report to his desk before the client calls begin. She closed the door behind her and waited, hands clasped in front of her.

"Under the desk," Parler said without looking up from his monitor. "Kneel. You'll stay there until I tell you otherwise."

Lucy lowered herself to the carpet and crawled into the space beneath the wide desk. The wood felt cool against her back as she settled on her knees. Parler rolled his chair forward, trapping her in the shadowed space. His legs bracketed her on either side. She could already feel the shift in his posture as he prepared for the first call.

"You don't make a sound," he reminded her, voice low. "No matter what happens. Stay silent. Stay focused on your task. If you do that, I'll give you what you need."

The phone rang. Parler answered on the second ring, his tone shifting instantly to smooth professionalism. "This is Parler Carol. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly." He reached down and unfastened his belt with one hand, the sound deliberate. Lucy leaned forward and took him into her mouth without being told twice. The first time she had done this had felt forced. Now her body moved on its own, tongue working in steady strokes as she listened to his voice above her.

The call lasted twenty minutes. Parler discussed contract terms, pushed for better margins, and never once let his voice waver. Lucy kept her movements slow and quiet, matching the rhythm to the pauses in his speech. Her own arousal built with every passing minute. The scent of him, the taste, the risk of the open office just beyond the door, it all pressed against her senses. She pressed her thighs together, fighting the urge to touch herself.

When the call ended, Parler reached down and stroked her hair once. "Good girl. You're learning fast." The praise sent a warm flush through her chest. She didn't pull away. Instead she stayed in place, waiting for the next ring.

The second call came almost immediately. A bigger client this time. Parler needed to close the deal today. Lucy heard the numbers being discussed above her. She kept her focus on him, lips and tongue working in careful silence. Her jaw ached after a while, but she didn't stop. Every time she felt the urge to moan, she swallowed it down. The vibrator from earlier days wasn't even in play now. The simple act of serving him under the desk was enough to make her slick and aching.

Parler reached beneath the desk during a long stretch of listening and tapped her cheek. "Edge yourself," he murmured, so quietly the client couldn't hear. "Two fingers. Don't come. Just get close and hold it."

Lucy's hand slipped under her own skirt. She pushed her panties aside and found herself already wet. Two fingers circled her clit in slow, measured strokes. The sensation hit hard and fast. She had to fight to keep her mouth steady on Parler while her body climbed toward release. Every nerve lit up. She hovered right at the edge, breathing through her nose, thighs shaking. The call continued above her, Parler's voice calm and commanding as he negotiated terms that would secure the account.

"That's my pet," he said when the client couldn't hear. The words landed deep inside her. Lucy felt the association click into place for the first time. The obedience, the risk, the praise, it all fed the same tight coil of need. She edged herself again when he tapped her a second time, holding herself right at the brink until her vision blurred. She didn't beg. She didn't make a sound. She simply obeyed and waited for his next instruction.

The call wrapped with Parler securing the deal on favorable terms. He ended the conversation with polite thanks, then rolled his chair back enough to look down at her. Lucy's lips were swollen, her hand still between her legs, fingers glistening. She looked up at him with heavy eyes, waiting.

"You did well," he said. "Voluntary this time. No hesitation. That's new." He reached down and guided her mouth back to him for the final minutes. Lucy took him deeper, working until he finished with a low groan, his hand firm on the back of her head. She swallowed everything, then rested her cheek against his thigh, breathing hard.

Parler stroked her hair again, longer this time. "Clean yourself up and get back to your desk. But remember how this felt. Every task from now on is going to tie straight to that feeling."

Lucy crawled out from under the desk on unsteady legs. She straightened her clothes in the mirror near his door, noting the flush on her cheeks and the way her body still hummed with unspent arousal. The shame was still there, the old part of her that recoiled at what she had just done in an office during working hours. Yet something new had taken root. She had edged herself on his command without being forced. She had chosen to stay quiet and focused because the praise and the heat of it felt better than resistance. The association was forming whether she wanted to admit it or not. She returned to her cubicle with the taste of him still on her tongue and the knowledge that she would do it again when he asked.,

Happy Hour Flash

The company happy hour had already started by the time Lucy arrived at the lounge on the tenth floor. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, knowing it sat several inches higher than anything she would have chosen for herself. Parler had sent the instructions that afternoon. Short skirt. No panties. Serve the drinks when asked. She had followed every rule, her bare skin brushing against the fabric with every step.

Parler caught her eye from across the room and gave a single nod. Lucy moved to the bar and picked up a tray of drinks. The absence of underwear left her feeling exposed even before she started moving through the crowd. Colleagues laughed and chatted around her, glasses clinking. She kept her posture straight, but the knowledge that one wrong bend could reveal everything made her pulse race.

"Lucy, over here," someone called. She turned toward a small group near the window and bent slightly to offer the tray. The skirt rode up just enough. A quick flash of her bare ass caught the eye of two junior analysts. One of them coughed into his drink. The other stared for a beat too long before looking away. Heat flooded Lucy's face. She straightened fast, tray steady in her hands, and kept walking.

Jenna appeared at her elbow a moment later, voice low and cool. "Careful with that skirt. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about the new intern." Her words carried a sharp edge, but her eyes held something else, a flicker of interest that made Lucy's stomach twist tighter.

"I'm just doing what I'm told," Lucy answered, keeping her tone even. Jenna's subtle smile said she understood more than she let on.

Another round of drinks needed serving. Lucy crossed to the far side of the lounge where a cluster of managers stood talking. She reached across the table to set down glasses, and the skirt lifted again. This time the exposure lasted longer. Several heads turned. One man raised an eyebrow. Another grinned into his beer. Lucy felt their gazes like hands on her skin. The shame burned hot in her chest, yet her thighs grew slick with unexpected arousal. The public risk, the way anyone could see if they looked closely, sent a pulse of heat straight to her core.

She caught movement at the edge of the room. Milo stood near the door, arms crossed, glasses reflecting the low lights. He didn't approach. He simply watched, quiet and observant, his expression unreadable. Lucy wondered how much he already knew from the security feeds, how many of these moments he had seen before. The thought only heightened the throb between her legs.

Parler stepped in close during a lull and spoke without looking at her. "You're doing well. Keep serving. Let them see what they see."

Lucy nodded once. "Yes, Sir." The words slipped out soft and automatic. She carried the next tray back into the crowd, deliberately choosing paths that required her to lean and reach. Each flash drew more reactions, quiet murmurs, sideways glances, the occasional stifled laugh. Her face stayed flushed, but her body betrayed her completely. Every exposure tightened the knot of arousal low in her belly. She felt herself growing wetter with each step, the risk of discovery feeding something she couldn't name yet.

Jenna passed her again and murmured just loud enough for Lucy to hear. "Some of the guys are talking. You might want to slow down before it gets out of hand." The comment sounded helpful on the surface, but it carried a knowing tone that made Lucy's shame spike higher. Jenna enjoyed this, even if she only participated from the sidelines.

By the time the trays were empty, Lucy's breath came shorter. She stood near the bar, skirt still riding high on her thighs, bare skin prickling under the cool air. Milo had moved closer but stayed on the periphery, his gaze steady. The whole room felt charged with unspoken awareness. Colleagues who had seen her continued their conversations, but their eyes drifted back to her more often than usual.

Parler appeared at her side once more. "You've peaked nicely tonight. Go home and think about how that felt." He didn't need to say more. Lucy already knew the lesson. The public shame had mixed with arousal so thoroughly that she couldn't separate them anymore. She slipped out of the lounge without another word, the echo of their reactions and the throb between her legs following her all the way down the hall.,

Permission and Edges

Lucy sat at her desk with her thighs pressed tight together. The need to use the restroom had built steadily since mid-morning, but the new rule left her no choice. She had to ask. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for several long seconds before she stood and walked toward Parler's office. The open-plan floor felt louder than usual, every glance from a colleague making her chest tighten.

She knocked once on his doorframe. "Sir, may I use the restroom?" The words came out softer than she intended. Parler looked up from his monitor, eyes steady on her.

"Not yet," he said. "Finish the report you're working on first. Then ask again."

Lucy returned to her desk and forced herself through the remaining paragraphs. Every shift in her chair reminded her of the pressure. When she finished, she went back to his office. "Sir, please. I really need to go now."

Parler leaned back in his chair. "You can go, but report to me immediately after. And don't dawdle." Relief flooded her as she hurried down the hall. The simple act of asking had left her face warm, yet a low throb of something else stirred beneath the embarrassment.

Lunchtime arrived with another instruction. Parler messaged her to come to his office. When she entered, he pointed to the floor beside his desk. "Crawl under. You'll eat there today."

Lucy hesitated only a moment before lowering herself to her knees. The carpet scratched against her palms as she moved beneath the desk. She stayed on all fours while he ate from a takeout container above her, occasionally dropping a small piece of food for her to take directly from his fingers. The position forced her skirt higher, and she kept her gaze down, aware that the open office beyond the glass walls could catch glimpses if anyone looked closely. Her pulse quickened at the thought. When he finished, he tapped her head once. "Good girl. Stay until I say you can move."

She remained there, knees aching, the quiet command settling deeper inside her. The public element of it, the risk of someone walking by and seeing her under his desk, mixed with a growing heat that she no longer tried to fully deny.

By mid-afternoon Parler summoned her again. "Supply closet. Now." Lucy slipped into the small room at the end of the hall and closed the door behind her. Parler followed a minute later and locked it. He handed her the small remote-controlled vibrator she knew too well.

"Put it in and edge yourself. Don't come. I want to hear you beg before this ends."

Lucy obeyed without argument. She lifted her skirt, pushed the toy inside, and turned it on at the lowest setting. The hum started slow and steady. She leaned against the shelves, one hand braced for balance while the other worked between her legs. The first edge built fast. Her breath caught and she bit her lip to stay quiet. When the sensation peaked, she stopped just short, thighs shaking.

"Please," she whispered. "Can I come now?"

Parler shook his head. "Again. Slower this time."

She started the cycle once more, the vibrations pressing exactly where she needed them. The second edge came harder. Her free hand gripped a shelf so tightly her knuckles whitened. "Sir, please. I can't hold it much longer."

"You can and you will. Edge again." His voice stayed calm and commanding. Lucy obeyed, circling her clit with two fingers while the toy pulsed inside her. This time the denial left her whimpering. Her body strained toward release, hips rocking involuntarily against nothing. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck.

"Please, Sir. I need it. Just this once." The words tumbled out more freely than they ever had before. Begging felt natural now, almost necessary. Parler watched her with that same unreadable expression, letting the denial stretch until her legs trembled and her voice grew hoarse with repeated pleas.

"Turn it off," he said at last. Lucy clicked the remote with shaking fingers. The sudden absence left her aching and empty. She stayed leaning against the shelves, breathing hard, the shame of how easily she had begged mixing with the sharp throb of denied arousal. Parler unlocked the door and stepped aside.

"Back to your desk. You'll ask for permission again before you leave tonight." Lucy straightened her clothes and walked out on unsteady legs. The internal conflict still lingered, the old part of her that resisted clashing against the way her body responded faster each time. Yet the begging had come quicker today, more desperate, and she knew she would do it again when he asked. The association between these tasks and the heat low in her belly was settling in deeper, pulling her further into whatever came next.,

Office Pet Display

The company party filled the semi-private lounge with low music and the clink of glasses. Most of the floor had gone home, but a smaller group stayed behind at Parler's invitation. Lucy arrived wearing the short black dress he had chosen, her heart already racing. She spotted Jenna near the bar and Milo lingering by the door, both watching her with quiet interest.

Parler pulled her aside the moment she entered. He fastened a thin black collar around her neck, the leather warm against her skin. "This stays on for the rest of the night. You're my office pet tonight. No hiding it."

Lucy's fingers brushed the collar. The word "pet" landed heavier than before. "Yes, Sir," she answered, voice soft. Already her body responded, a familiar heat building low in her belly at the public claim.

He led her to the center of the lounge where a low table had been cleared. "Up," he said. Lucy climbed onto the surface on her hands and knees, the dress riding high on her thighs. The collar felt tight with every breath. Parler addressed the small group. "She performs when told. Watch if you like."

Jenna stepped closer first, her expression cool but her eyes bright. "Crawl the length of the table. Show them how well you move." Lucy obeyed, moving slowly on all fours while the fabric of her dress slipped higher. Milo stayed at the edge, quiet as always, but his gaze never left her. The shame washed over her in waves, hot and sharp, yet it twisted straight into arousal that made her thighs slick.

Parler circled the table. "Good pet. Now sit back on your heels and spread your knees. Let them see what's under that dress." Lucy shifted position, knees wide, the collar pulling slightly as she lifted her chin. Her bare skin caught the light. A murmur ran through the small audience. The exposure, the eyes on her, the collar marking her as owned, it all pressed down until she could barely think past the throb between her legs.

"She's soaked already," Jenna observed with a faint smile. "Your little stress toy gets off on this, doesn't she?"

Lucy flushed deeper. The words hit like another layer of degradation, pushing her further. Parler placed a hand on her head. "Answer her. Tell them what you are."

"I'm your office pet, Sir," Lucy said, the phrase coming easier now. "I get off on being displayed like this." Her voice trembled, but the admission only made the arousal spike higher. Milo spoke from the side, soft and technical. "The collar suits her. Fits the footage I've seen."

Parler nodded. "Stand and face them. Hands behind your back. No touching yourself until I say." Lucy rose on shaky legs, the collar visible to everyone. She clasped her hands behind her, chest forward. The group watched openly now. Shame burned across her face and down her neck, but her body betrayed her completely. Without a single touch, the pressure built inside her, fed purely by their eyes, the collar, and the crude labels they used.

"Look at her," Parler continued, voice low and commanding. "My collared pet, dripping in front of her colleagues. She used to fight this. Now she begs for it." The degradation washed through her. Lucy's breath came faster. Her knees threatened to buckle as the humiliation alone pushed her toward the edge. She didn't need fingers or the vibrator. The words, the exposure, the knowledge that Jenna and Milo were participating in her fall, it all coiled tighter.

"Please," she whispered, the begging slipping out without thought. "I can't hold it. I'm going to come just from this." Parler stepped closer, one hand resting on the collar.

"Then come. Show them what an eager office pet looks like when she breaks from shame alone."

The command tipped her over. Lucy's body convulsed, a sharp cry escaping as the orgasm ripped through her without any physical contact. Her thighs trembled, wetness sliding down her legs, the collar tight against her throat. The overwhelming mix of shame and release left her gasping, vision blurring. She stayed upright only because Parler held the collar steady. Jenna's light laugh and Milo's quiet observation barely registered past the aftershocks rolling through her.

When it finally eased, Lucy sank back to her knees on the table, breathing hard. Parler stroked her hair once. "That's my pet." The party continued around them, the small group settling back into conversations, but Lucy remained where she was, collar on, the conflict inside her louder than ever. The shame still burned, yet the way her body had responded proved how completely she had changed. She craved it now, the degradation, the display, the way they all saw her. And she knew she would do it again when Parler ordered.,

Permanent Collar

Lucy stood in Parler's office with the collar still around her neck from the night before. The party had ended hours ago, yet the weight of it hadn't left her. She had spent the morning replaying every moment, every pair of eyes on her, every degrading word that had pushed her over the edge without a single touch. The old resistance had faded completely. All that remained was the need.

She stepped forward and lowered herself to her knees in front of his desk. "Sir, I need to ask you something." Her voice stayed steady even though her heart pounded. "I want to stay your office pet. Not just for tasks or meetings. Permanently. I want the collar every day. I want you to own this part of me for good."

Parler studied her for a long moment. "You've come a long way from the woman who tried to negotiate her way out of consequences." He opened a drawer and placed a folder on the desk. "There's an internal promotion waiting for you. Senior analyst role with a raise and direct reporting line to me. The board already approved it. But the position comes with conditions. You keep the collar. You keep the rules. No going back to your old life."

Lucy looked up at him, the folder blurring at the edges. "I don't want to go back. Please, Sir. Let me be your office pet for real. I'll take the promotion and everything that comes with it. Just don't take this away."

Parler nodded once. "Then it's settled. The promotion is yours. The collar stays on." He reached down and clipped a small silver tag to the front of the leather. The engraving read simply "Pet." Lucy felt the click echo through her chest. Acceptance settled over her like warm water. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his knee for a brief second, breathing in the scent of him and the finality of the moment.

The board meeting started at nine the next morning. Lucy arrived early, collar visible above the collar of her blouse. She didn't try to hide it. Parler had her kneel under the long table before the others filed in. She crawled into place on the carpet, the short skirt he had chosen riding up as she settled on her knees. The tag on her collar caught the light whenever she moved. Colleagues took their seats around the table, some glancing down, others pretending not to notice. Jenna sat two chairs away and offered a small, knowing smile. Milo lingered near the projector, adjusting settings with quiet efficiency.

Parler took his place at the head and rested one hand on Lucy's head beneath the table. "Stay quiet and ready," he murmured. The meeting began with quarterly figures and strategy talk. Lucy remained in position, the collar tight around her throat, her body already responding to the public display. She could feel the weight of the tag against her skin. Every time someone shifted or spoke, the risk of discovery sent another pulse of heat between her legs. She didn't fight it anymore. This was her role now.

Halfway through the presentation, Parler tapped her shoulder once. Lucy reached up and freed him from his trousers with steady hands, taking him into her mouth in slow, silent strokes. The board continued above her. Voices discussed numbers and timelines while she focused on her task. The collar pressed against her neck with each movement. Arousal built steadily, fed by the knowledge that anyone could look down and see the tag, see her collared and serving under the table in full view of the room.

She didn't need commands or edging this time. The simple fact of the collar, the promotion granted alongside her permanent place at his feet, the eyes that might catch her at any moment, it all pushed her higher. Lucy came with a soft tremor, thighs clenching around nothing, the orgasm rolling through her from the humiliation and acceptance alone. She kept her mouth working, swallowing everything he gave her without missing a beat.

When the meeting ended and the room cleared, Parler rolled his chair back and looked down at her. "Good girl. My permanent pet." Lucy stayed on her knees, the collar warm against her skin, the promotion folder waiting on his desk. She felt no shame left, only the deep, steady thrum of belonging. This was what she had become, and she wanted nothing else.

Cubicle Pet by Brittany Getsbone

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