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High heeled things tapping down a hall. [/i]\n\n[i]It barely seemed real. [/i]\n\n[i]the hallway was beige with white tile floors, bland, devoid of decoration. Yet on she walked. How did she get here? Where was she going? The door opened, and one answer unraveled into more questions. People in business suits milling about, eyes forward. Vacant, smiling faintly as they typed on computers, collated paperwork; a dull and dreary work place.[/i]\n\n[i]Stormwave shook her head for a moment. There was no memory of how she got here, but it was difficult to even remember what led up to this point. Was there a fight? Was she kidnapped? Was she undercover? Her feet took her to the office kitchen, and the thought of coffee came to her mind. Her hands moved automatically to whip up a brew, dismissed as a muscle memory whenever she was tired. That's probably why she was making her coffee with more milk and sugar than she normally took. She blinked. This wasn't her kind of coffee, was it? [/i]\n\n[i]Something was holding her here. compelling her. She glanced at a fridge with a glossy finish, enough to show a funhouse mirror version of her body. She looked like a call girl. her ears and tail perked in a blend of shock and embarassment, but her hands were as even as always. She placed the drink down and shook her head again. The haze never let up. At least that was the case until a delicate coo disrupted her train of thought.[/i]\n\n[i]\"Oh! Hello Secretary Stormy.\" It was Latch. but something was wrong. Her expression was vacant, staring off at a space far behind Stormy's head. A polite half smile on her lips. As if her face was trapped experiencing something close to a pleasurable daydream. She was wearing the same 'fuck me' caricature of a uniform that Stormy had the misfortune of knowing intimately. [/i]\n\n[i]\"L-latch? W-what's...\" Stormy's words drifted off between blinks. Each slow flit of her eyelids was like passing through a doorway that incurred a twinge of forgetfulness. [/i]\n\n[i]\"Remember to clean the coffee maker between each pot. Be courteous to your fellow employee~.\" Latch's voice sounded like an informational announcement. Stormy set down the coffee mug and managed to grip Latch's shoulders and shake her.[/i]\n\n[i]\"S-snap out of it. H-hhh.... how did we get here?\" Stormy implored to Latch with increasing desperation.[/i]\n\n[i]\"Miniskirt hems should be kept no longer than 3 inches. It is vital you ensure fellow secretaries adhere to uniform protocol.\" was her response.[/i]\n\n[i]\"Th....Be sure to groom your fur before work every day an-nh! wh-what?\" Stormwave found herself reciting something from memory, despite having no recollection of when she learned it. [/i]\n\n\n[i] Stormy realized she wasn't really there. Just prattling off protocol like she was a living employee manual. The longer she stood around her, the harder it was going to be to resist.[/i]\n\n[i]She pushed her friend away, leaving her to absent mindedly stack some papers near the copier. Running to the elevators, Stormy had to slow her gait to accustom for the thin high heels she was given, as if it was designed to slow her down. No time to slide them off. For all she knew, bending over would make her tail rise up and fill her brain with pleasant eThere was no telling what this place was meant for other than a den of torture for her. She could get out. Regroup, set the place on fire and burn it to the ground. But she had to leave first. She neede to recuperate. She needed-[/i]\n\n[i]*BING BONG*[/i]\n\n[i][b]\"Good Morning. It is now 8 AM. Mr. Darkwitt has arrived in his office.\"\n[/b][/i]\n[i]Her ams slid to her sides, delicately still holding the steaming cup of coffee with impeccable balance. She about faced with a near perfect pivot. Her hips rocked subtly as she stepped to the elevator. The brown furred secretary was at her side, but there was no reason to talk or make eye contact. [/i]\n\n[i]The doors slid open, and two sexy secretaries strode into his office with pastries and coffee in hand. [/i]\n\n[b][i]\"Good Morning, Master Darkwitt.\"[/i]\n\n[/b]____________________________________________\n\nGift art from Stormwave and Latch of their two lovely ladies completely dominated and trapped as sexy secretaries. Perhaps they'll escape. Perhaps they'll be left with sleeper triggers to fall again someday. For now, Darkwitt can enjoy their company without so much as a twitch of disobedience.\n\nCharacters are: @Stormwave and @latch\nArt by @Jsalkov", "description_bbcode_parsed": "She woke to the feeling of boots tapping on tile. High heeled things tapping down a hall.

It barely seemed real.

the hallway was beige with white tile floors, bland, devoid of decoration. Yet on she walked. How did she get here? Where was she going?  The door opened, and one answer unraveled into more questions. People in business suits milling about, eyes forward. Vacant, smiling faintly as they typed on computers, collated paperwork; a dull and dreary work place.

Stormwave shook her head for a moment. There was no memory of how she got here, but it was difficult to even remember what led up to this point. Was there a fight? Was she kidnapped? Was she undercover? Her feet took her to the office kitchen, and the thought of coffee came to her mind. Her hands moved automatically to whip up a brew, dismissed as a muscle memory whenever she was tired. That's probably why she was making her coffee with more milk and sugar than she normally took. She blinked. This wasn't her kind of coffee, was it?

Something was holding her here. compelling her. She glanced at a fridge with a glossy finish, enough to show a funhouse mirror version of her body. She looked like a call girl. her ears and tail perked in a blend of shock and embarassment, but her hands were as even as always. She placed the drink down and shook her head again. The haze never let up. At least that was the case until a delicate coo disrupted her train of thought.

"Oh! Hello Secretary Stormy." It was Latch. but something was wrong. Her expression was vacant, staring off at a space far behind Stormy's head. A polite half smile on her lips. As if her face was trapped experiencing something close to a pleasurable daydream. She was wearing the same 'fuck me' caricature of a uniform that Stormy had the misfortune of knowing intimately.

"L-latch? W-what's..." Stormy's words drifted off between blinks. Each slow flit of her eyelids was like passing through a doorway that incurred a twinge of forgetfulness.

"Remember to clean the coffee maker between each pot. Be courteous to your fellow employee~." Latch's voice sounded like an informational announcement. Stormy set down the coffee mug and managed to grip Latch's shoulders and shake her.

"S-snap out of it. H-hhh.... how did we get here?" Stormy implored to Latch with increasing desperation.

"Miniskirt hems should be kept no longer than 3 inches. It is vital you ensure fellow secretaries adhere to uniform protocol." was her response.

"Th....Be sure to groom your fur before work every day an-nh! wh-what?" Stormwave found herself reciting something from memory, despite having no recollection of when she learned it.


Stormy realized she wasn't really there. Just prattling off protocol like she was a living employee manual. The longer she stood around her, the harder it was going to be to resist.

She pushed her friend away, leaving her to absent mindedly stack some papers near the copier. Running to the elevators, Stormy had to slow her gait to accustom for the thin high heels she was given, as if it was designed to slow her down. No time to slide them off. For all she knew, bending over would make her tail rise up and fill her brain with pleasant eThere was no telling what this place was meant for other than a den of torture for her. She could get out. Regroup, set the place on fire and burn it to the ground. But she had to leave first. She neede to recuperate. She needed-

*BING BONG*

"Good Morning. It is now 8 AM. Mr. Darkwitt has arrived in his office."

Her ams slid to her sides, delicately still holding the steaming cup of coffee with impeccable balance. She about faced with a near perfect pivot. Her hips rocked subtly as she stepped to the elevator. The brown furred secretary was at her side, but there was no reason to talk or make eye contact.

The doors slid open, and two sexy secretaries strode into his office with pastries and coffee in hand.

"Good Morning, Master Darkwitt."

____________________________________________

Gift art from Stormwave and Latch of their two lovely ladies completely dominated and trapped as sexy secretaries. Perhaps they'll escape. Perhaps they'll be left with sleeper triggers to fall again someday. For now, Darkwitt can enjoy their company without so much as a twitch of disobedience.

Characters are: @Stormwave and @latch
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