quite a morning

Wednesday morning was certainly a thing in my slave life.

My work project for Amanda at her office finished up a week ago Wednesday, and I’d handed in my report. My Monday/Wednesday routine of going to work with her has ended, and I didn’t go to work with her Monday. But Wednesday this week Amanda wanted me to come in one more time to attend a meeting with her financial advisor and talk through some of my report’s recommendations. (For those who don’t know, this has to do with real estate, which was my career in my previous life.)

As is my requirement, I was standing in the breakfast nook at 7:30 bearing a tray of coffee mugs and a freshly brewed carafe at my side. I had already showered, done my makeup, and dressed for work — conscientiously prepped to go to the office — but, as is the standing order, without a top, which was draped over a chair in the drawing room.

Master K entered, poured himself coffee, reached around my tray and fondled my breast. I said, Thank you, Sir.”

Amanda entered shortly after, asked me to pour her a mug of coffee while she checked for something in her briefcase. Coffees poured, I started to pour myself a cup, when Master uttered, “Maura.”

Reflexively, I squatted before him at the breakfast table. He had me sit to the side not under it. Amanda, still riffling through her briefcase, said, “Kevin, have her take off her skirt so it doesn’t get it dirty. She’s going to work with me.”

He nodded to me, so I took off my skirt and draped it over a chair. So I squatted, naked, and unzipped him. He read the newspaper, making my work trivial, intentionally diminishing the value of my newfound skill of 2019. He was slow this morning, and it took some twenty minutes, but when he came, it was in two big mouthfuls, and I couldn’t swallow fast enough. It drooled on my breasts. I apologized for spilling, but Master waved it off.

By now, Amanda was waiting for me in the car. The meeting was scheduled right at 8:30, we were late, and it was important.

I put my skirt back on, slipped into my wedge sandals, and grabbed my blouse. I pulled one of the microfiber dish towels from the kitchen drawer, wet one side of it, and stuffed it in my purse. I finally walked out, topless per rule, to the driveway, and climbed into the car with Amanda.

I could tell she was miffed at the delay, not upset with me, but with Master K for taking so long with me and doing me so late. I was out of breath from rushing around, and I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

Amanda, driving, said, “You have it on you.”

“Oh, right.” I pulled the towel out of my purse and, with the wet end, wiped my breasts, which had caught droplets of Master’s cum from my mouth. Once they were cleaned, I dried my breasts with the other end of the towel.

Fifteen minutes later, Amanda looked right to change lanes to exit the interstate. In doing so she saw something on me. “You have some more, right in the nook of your neck.” She pointed to her own neck to show me where..

I sighed, pulled out the towel again, and this time, using the visor mirror, wiped my neck, upper chest, between my boobs, under my boobs, and my abdomen — to make sure I was clean before walking into a business meeting.

“He got you everywhere,” she said.

“I couldn’t take it all,” I replied, apologetically.

“I know. It’s OK.”

Normally, she drives us around the back way, down an access road around the back of the office park — all to avoid traffic while I am topless in her car. But this time, because we were running late, she took the direct way.

She pulled into the parking lot, and drove down the back row of parking spaces. Our routine and timing were off, and I had yet to reach for my shirt in the backseat. I did so, but we were parking before I got it on.

My top was a button-down shirt that I kept buttoned except for the top two buttons, so as to allow me to pull it over my head in one motion, quickly. So as I was searching for the bottom of the shirt to climb into, Amanda had already parked in a spot directly facing another car pulling in to the space opposite.

It was Megan. She saw us, and waved at Amanda, then looked over through her windshield at me. She saw my state of undress, my naked boobs, and her eyes opened wide.

I quickly slipped the shirt over my head and pulled it down over me.

We were late for the meeting, and Amanda rushed inside. I followed, passing Megan. She said with a smile, “Looks like quite a morning.”

I replied, walking past her, “You have no idea.”

Our financial advisor was already in the sitting area. Amanda was apologizing to him as I hurried in. He looked at me a little oddly, and I wondered if somehow I still had cum on may face. No — I realized my shirt was on, but disheveled and not entirely buttoned.

I apologized for my lateness too, and followed them into the conference room. Along the way, I managed to tug my shirt down and button my middle and upper buttons. I had no idea what my hair looked like.

I recovered. His first question was why we weren’t locating in Denver’s Tech Center. I said we weren’t catering only to the tech startups, although that’s a big opportunity. My idea, I said, was that we could locate our business office farther west where it would be cheaper, then rent meeting space on a day- or week-basis in various of the business neighborhoods as we needed to.

Despite being in my real estate element, I was fully aware of my slaveness. I was still tasting Master K on my tongue. Because of the rush-rush, I hadn’t had any water or coffee since the mouth cum. (Master K was happy to hear later his man-cum coated my mouth during the meeting.) And then too, I was sitting in a conference room without any underwear, my constant state, barely having donned a top minutes before.

I reminded our advisor that we are a virtual service. Businesses looking for an online solution don’t expect us to have an elegant building. Also, the startups who need what we offer have modest office spaces themselves. They are impressed by our own startup roots. Additionally, I said, Denver is a matrix of under-valued business neighborhoods that we should serve. This approach gave us flexibility.

Mistress had not required me to wear a collar today. I could have handled it, of course, but she knew my presence in the meeting with an outsider would be distracting if I did.

The meeting went well. Another step toward something. At around 11:00 we were done, and Amanda and I walked him out to the lobby. He left.

Walking back, Amanda lifted my skirt and squeezed my ass cheek from behind. “How’s about some coffee?”

My first sip was heaven. We debriefed, and Amanda was very pleased. She was suddenly relaxed and playful, and I wondered if she was going to do something with me. I was feeling a kind of high too, after the ridiculous morning and the good meeting.

But nothing happened. Amanda is in control of herself and properly aware the the needed propriety in the workplace. But I know she wanted to.

It became noon. Amanda had a lunch appointment. I had forgotten to pack a lunch for the day, but I went to the lunchroom where I could get a water.

Megan was there, and we talked. “You don’t have to explain.”

I said, “Thank you.”

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