Chapter Text
“Oh, umm, hi Madeline! I didn’t know you worked here too!”
Dev fidgets with the paper temporary nametag on his button-down. It marks him as new to the office, but anyone probably could tell that from his one-size-too-big dress pants and the wrinkled shirt over his stiff binder. The pressure from his clothing cuts into his ribs. He looks over at Madeline again and does a quick double-take. No, no mistaking it, that’s definitely her. Taller than him, in a black suitjacket and round glasses, with her hair tied up in a bun behind her head. She looks different than everyone else at the office. She looks different than how she looked last weekend at the dungeon.
But the slight glimmer of irritation in her eyes is the exact same.
“You two know each other?” Randy, Dev’s supervisor, is also sitting in the break room. He’s the tallest of the three, although sitting down means his head is at eye level with the other two coworkers. His big mustache covers up most of his face.
Dev gets excited, his hands gesturing. “Yeah, we met a couple weekends ago at—”
“—a party. Superbowl watch party with some mutual friends. Go birds.” Madeline’s voice sounds different than it did at the dungeon. It’s more quiet, more cautious. She stumbles over words. Dev couldn’t imagine the domme who spent three hours whipping his pussy talking like that.
“Go birds! Wow Calvin, I didn’t know you had friends.” Randy laughs and the microwave goes off. Madeline looks at Dev with an expression of pure malice.
Dev tries to figure out what’s going on. Madeline is standing differently than she did at the dungeon. There she was a confident dominatrix, but here she’s slumped forward and clearly nervous. He looks down at Madeline’s outfit, her work pants, her khaki-colored tie, her nametag…oh. Duh.
Calvin Albright
he/him — Product Engineer
Randy stands up and turns his back, grabbing the popcorn. Madeline snarls, raising her lip slightly at Dev. A miserable pit settles in his stomach. His hands turn cold and his vision goes murky. Madeline puts her hand on the break room’s table.
“Have you shown the new kid the warehouse?” Madeline’s face is cold.
“Oh, nah. I figured she could see it on her own. Uh, they. Sorry.” Randy stumbles over Dev’s pronouns, and he winces.
“Why don’t I take care of it? It’s important to have some hands-on experience.” With every sentence from Madeline, Dev shrinks further and further into his button-down. His head is swimming. He’s hardly paying attention as Madeline pulls him from the break room and drags him down a long drywall corridor illuminated by flickering fluorescent bulbs. Turns a corner, slams a door, and sudden — darkness. The smell of old office supplies and rat poison lingers in the air. The feeling of shelving behind Dev tells him he’s in an office supply closet.
“You useless fucking mutt, what’s your problem?” Madeline hisses, her voice inches from Dev’s ears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I just assumed—”
“What? What the fuck did you possibly think that would make this appropriate?”
“Well…” Dev struggles to swallow. “I guess I just thought, considering the office’s reputation for queerness, and the way they were so chill about my pronouns, that you’d…if you worked here you’d be out too.”
Madeline laughs in his face. It’s a sharp, pointed, slightly forced laugh. She steps away from him, and when she speaks her voice is more relaxed. “Oh you dumbass. You really fell for all that marketing? You really are a liability.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Madeline walks to the corner of the closet and turns the light on. Now that Dev knows what’s going on, her boymoding is obvious. In the sallow light of the closet and the humid warmth of the unventilated room, her face looks like dough. Without any of the context of femininity, but with only the poorest performance of masculinity, she looks like…nobody. A far cry from the woman who made him swear fealty at the Iron Pig, Dev thinks to himself.
“My salary here supports both of my girlfriends. I can’t risk anyone working here knowing about my secret. They’d get rid of me.”
Dev is extremely skeptical of this, but the look in Madeline’s eyes stops his argument. Instead he clears his throat and says, “I can keep a secret.”
“No you can’t, you clueless welp. It barely took me an hour to break your brain wide open last weekend. The office is a far more grueling mistress. You won’t survive a month, and you’ve already threatened my position. You’re going to go to Randy this afternoon and tell him you quit.”
Dev’s eyes nearly fall out of his head. “Are you fucking kidding me? Absolutely not. I need this job too, okay?” He doesn’t dare admit that this is his first job after hundreds of applications.
“Then I’ll get you fired.”
Dev thinks of the look on his mom’s face, the scorn, the ridicule. The nausea in his chest collapses into a single sharp point. “Good luck. I know your secret, remember?”
Madeline’s eyes widen. She smirks and takes off her glasses. “Little dog has some bite in him after all. Maybe I underestimated you.”
Dev looks away. “I told you. I can learn.”
When Dev looks back, Madeline is next to him. Something in her eyes is different than earlier. There’s a hollowness, perhaps. The kind of look a cat gets when it’s going to eat its owner’s corpse. Madeline pulls a box-cutter out of her pocket and calmly presses its open blade against Dev’s neck. Dev’s eyes open wide and Madeline smiles.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Madeline traces a line along Dev’s neck, stopping when she reaches the collar of his button-down. “Here’s my one time offer. Accept it now or we’ll never talk again. You’re going to do everything I say, starting now. You’ll trust me with complete and unwavering obedience. You won’t say a single word at this office to anyone, including me. You’ll clock in, do your job, and go home — silently. Until such time as I believe you won’t blab my secret. And you’ll prove it to me. Do you understand?”
The metal is so cold against Dev’s neck. He gulps. “I…I…”
“ One time offer, Devon.”
Cold metal. Hungry eyes. Binder against ribs. Fluorescent lighting. Sudden clarity. “Yes. I do. I agree.”
“Good boy. Now strip for me.”
Dev can’t breathe. It’s his first day at work, and he’s got a knife against his throat and is being told to strip naked. He fidgets with the paperclips on the shelf behind him. “Are…are you sure?”
“Strip now, or the deal is off.”
Dev slowly and reluctantly unbuttons his shirt, revealing his black binder. He reaches down and undoes his belt, revealing his boxer-briefs underneath his dress pants. His packer bulges against the underwear. This morning it felt empowering. Right now it feels embarrassing. Madeline taps the knife against Dev’s binder. He’s aware of how his body looks shivering in the strangely hot room, the pudge on his stomach and the awkward curve of his hips.
A sudden urge to cry comes from nowhere and hits him in the gut. Dev pulls his binder up over his shoulders. His tits push out, small and unfamiliar as they are, and with his binder gone air rushes back into his lungs. This entire situation is nothing like the dungeon. He was basically naked then too, but he was surrounded by other naked people, and he felt sexy. Now Dev is nearly naked and entirely alone in a deeply unsexy way with an unhinged woman holding a knife to his neck.
Madeline drags her knife along Dev’s chest, lingering for a moment at the red line from his binder. The cold boxcutter wanders down to his hips, and she stares at his underwear for a moment, frowning only slightly. The cold metal shelves dig into Dev’s back. He reaches his hands to his sides and slowly pulls his underwear down, hoping against hope that the packer disguises the wet spot that has formed between his legs.
Madeline picks up his underwear and wordlessly inspects it. She presses the boxcutter against Dev’s bush, and he almost screams. She sniffs his underwear and sets it down on a nearby shelf before turning back to Dev with her phone. “Now pick up your name badge and put it back on.”
Dev starts sniffling. Madeline stares at him like a statue. He kneels down and grabs his badge from the clothes on the ground, and puts it around his neck as he stands up. The ribbon falls right between his tits and above his bellybutton. Click!
The flash from Madeline’s phone camera causes Dev to almost fall over. He instinctively goes to cover his tits and crotch, and only stops when Madeline digs her knife into his shoulderblade.
“No flinching.”
Dev gulps. Another photo. Another, this time a close-up of his badge.
“Show me your ass.”
Dev turns around, pressing his face against the supply cabinet shelf. He’s crying now. When Madeline was domming him at the dungeon, she was gentle and firm — everything he wanted from a woman. Now she’s treating him like a hunk of meat. Dev feels something against his back and yelps.
“Calm down, it’s just a sharpie. Now turn back around and kneel.”
Dev scrambles to follow Madeline’s instructions. He kneels in the pile of his own clothes, his shoe heels digging into the back of his thighs. He looks up at her with pathetic, red-rimmed eyes.
Madeline takes his packer off the shelf and shoves it into Dev’s mouth. Packers don’t feel like dildos. They’re squishier and flaccid, and Dev chokes on the unexpected silicon in his mouth. The packer’s balls dangle against his chin. Madeline cups his face with her hand and smiles with slight affection before clarity comes back to her. She grabs a pair of zipties and binds Dev’s wrists to the metal shelf behind him, in just the right position to push his back forward and twist his shoulders. He struggles and tries to protest, but his words get swallowed by his own flaccid cock in his mouth.
Madeline pulls out the sharpie again and writes notes all over Dev’s body. She acts quickly and surgically, and in the strange light and strange angle, Dev struggles to read them. He catches bits and pieces — OFFICE SLUT, BOYTOY, RAW MEAT. He feels a puddle of drool form against his lip and slowly tangle from the edge of his packer onto his extended sharpie-covered tits.
Madeline caps the sharpie and shoves it into Dev’s soaked pussy. He flinches, and she grabs a box of pens from the shelf. Each pen pushes in uncomfortably — it is clear to Dev that Madeline doesn’t care about his body. The pinch points between the pens pick and stab at his insides, but each one fills up his cunt more and more, until his legs are shivering with desire. Dev doesn’t know how long it takes Madeline to push him to his cunt’s limit, but it seems to take at least one box of pens. His hips can barely move and he can feel the lips of his pussy straining against the pressure. His clit pushes out into the air, and Madeline flicks it a couple times, giggling at the way Dev’s body convulses.
After an eternity of preparation, Madeline stands up. She grabs a roll of duct tape and brings it to Dev’s face. He tries to scream, to stop her, to move his arms or legs or something, but he can’t. Madeline wraps his face in the duct tape — first the packer, pressing it into his mouth even deeper, and then covering his eyes. His muffled screams sound more like moans to his half-covered ears. Dev struggles to hear what Madeline says to him next in the darkness.
He hears the click of her camera again, and feels the tip of her work shoe press against his clit. He moans in pleasure, hips writhing to touch her, and he hears her laughter. She presses down more firmly, and the pens push against his cervix. It is incredibly painful, but Dev can’t stop his body from gushing with pleasure. He grinds his clit uselessly against her shoe for several minutes, right up to the edge of orgasm. A pressure builds above his cunt, and he can smell his pussy’s drool fill the room. Madeline slams her shoe into his clit, causing him to spasm even more, before she pulls her shoe away.
“Your first task is to stay here until I retrieve you. I hope no one needs any pens.”
Dev screams and slams his twisted back against the steel shelving. He can hear Madeline’s shoes click across the linoleum floor. He hears the click of the light switch, the opening and shutting of the door, and then nothing. Just the distant hum of some forgotten printer, the steady drip-drip-drip of his cunt, and his struggling breath in the darkness.