The required video training all set. The play button hit and the office became a mass mind control project.
Wednesday morning and Jacob was heading into the office early once again. The aftermath of closing the deal last week was just as hectic as gearing up for the proposal. He had a bunch of paperwork to finish before the mandatory staff meeting at the end of the day.
He had to walk through the maze of cubicles on the way to his office. Surprising Maria was at her desk. “Getting an early start,” he questioned as he came to her desk?
She jumped as she had her head down and earbuds in. “Jacob, you scared the shit out of me.” Her hands went to her heart which was now beating feverishly. She smiled up at him in her wicked Latina grin. “Why do you do that to me?”
“Oh you love it,” he joked back. “You like how I get that heart pounding.” He let those words hang in the air. Was he just flirting with Maria? He never really has done that before. Not that he would not be happy to have a night with her. She is sexy and he would bet she was a whole lot of fun in bed. She looked real sexy today in that tight black top and pink mini skirt.
All these thoughts came racing into his head. Wait, why is he having these now. No problem as long as he keeps it to himself. He just sat down and turned on his computer when Maria came into the office. “Should I put out the headphones for the meeting this afternoon now or give them to everyone when they come in?”
His eyes looked up and locked onto the gorgeous woman standing in his doorway. Taking a moment to think. “Do it now. Then you don’t have to track them down later. Follow up with an email so they remember that it is a 4:30 start time sharp.” She turned and headed back to her desk to start placing the headphones on everyone’s desk. “Fuck,” Jacob said in a low voice. He turned and started to answer his emails.
The day flew by. It was midafternoon before he knew it. His mind felt conflicted about this new software training. He knew there would be some problems. George, Mary and Tarek would bark at having to learn something new. He was surprised they didn’t call out. He just hoped it went smoothly.
On the other hand he was excited. Like, really excited for it. He could not place his finger on it but he knew it would be a great move for his company. Help it grow and provide new services with its new owner. Owner, what the hell. Why did he think that? New partner, that is what he thought he meant.
Fifteen minutes until go time. There was a knock on the door. He knew it was Maria. Anyone else and she would have called him. “Come it,” he called out with some volume in his voice. Soundproof rooms were great until they were not.
The door swung open and Maria entered with Robbie. “Good afternoon Sir,” the man said in a nervous voice. “We are ready for the program to start. I installed all the data as your partner instructed.”
“Do we know what this program does,” Maria questioned? “Seems a lot.” Her hands on her hips, which were positioned just off centered to her right. Where the heel on her left foot was raised at the heel.
“The note said just trust the process. It is getting close to time. You think we should go watch and make sure they take this seriously,” Jacob asked. At that moment, 4:20, each of their phones buzzed. They all looked at their screens within moments of each other. It was a message from the Doll House app. Each clicking the button and then saying,” yes Mother. I will obey,” in a dreamy voice.
Mr. Steel was the first to shake the haze and said,” Robot, tell me again how we know they will really watch the programming.” As he asked the question his eyes mentally undressed Puta Girl. He licked his lips as he thought of the naughty stuff he still wanted to do with her.
“I put a subliminal message on the server yesterday. As they worked the last two days the message told them that this training was the most important. They had to do it.” He could not help himself but he needed to look at Puta Girl again. His lust brewing.
Mr. Steel stood and said,” let’s go watch the show.” Puta Girl and Robot follow behind him as they leave his office. The large open floor plan let him look over his staff. All were sitting and waiting. Two more minutes and it should start.
“Do you want to say anything,” Puta Girl asked in a low voice.
“No, I don’t want to distract them at this point.” A few of the closer people looked over at the three of them. He thought there would be a question, but none came. He didn’t know if it was because the program came on or nobody had the courage.
They could see the screen and it was different from their enlightenment. Theirs started off right away with the spiral and the conditioning. This had a very attractive woman in an office space. He could not heard anything so to the noise canceling headphones the Doll House supplied.
“It is a different program,” Mr. Steel asked Robot. Turning to look at the short nerdy man.
“Yes it is. Completely different. It is going to take close to two hours this way but we couldn’t sedate the whole office beforehand. It takes a bit longer but they will all come out loyal to the Doll House.”
“Well done.” Just then the intern came out from the file room. She is a short platinum blonde with a bubbly bounce in her step.
“Hey boss guy, secretaria, IT guy,” she greeted them as she saw them. “I’m late for the training?”
“Jessica, you were scheduled for a half day today. You should not be here,” Pita Girl responded. Mr. Steel looked over his sexy intern. Standing at 5’-6” with her pink pumps. Her legs were bare from them up to the short pink skirt. The tight white top didn’t leave how big her chest was to question. Long hair framing her perfectly done face.
“But everyone was so excited. I just wanted to be trained also.” Her gaze pulled from the three of them to the closest screen. Gone was the attractive woman. It was replaced by a pink spiral for the woman Sara sitting there. She looked over and saw a blue spiral at Thomas and a green one for Mary. “Is your training hypnosis? If so, that is hot. I love hypnosis. My ex and I used to try it. Can I do it too?” Her finger twirling the front curls as she speaks. Her body language tells them she would do anything.
“I guess I can take an eager subject back to my office for an one on one session,” Mr. Steel said, not needing much more urging.
“No fair,” Puta Girl blurted out. “You get all the one on one training.”
“That is why I’m the boss,” he said with a chuckle.
“If I’m reading the room right,” Jessica chimed in,” you both can come put me in trance.” She winked at Puta Girl.
“Maybe later. This is kind of a one on one thing. Shall we go,” he questioned the young blonde bombshell as he gave his arm to her. (See Doll House - Intern)
“Maybe I can lick your pussy again,” Robot said as the two of them walked down the hallway.
“Better than nothing. On your knees bitch boy.”
Robot’s heart hammered as Puta Girl stepped closer, her dress already hiked up to her waist. He knew what was coming—she never wore panties, always bare-bottomed and ready. The sight of her smooth, exposed pussy made his mouth water.
She grabbed his hair and yanked his face forward. "Lick it. Lick out that gooey goodness."
Robot didn’t hesitate. He opened his mouth wide and pressed his tongue flat against her wet slit. The taste hit him instantly—salty, musky, thick with her arousal. He groaned and dug in, dragging his tongue from her entrance up to her clit.
"Oh, fuck yeah," she moaned, grinding against his face. "That’s it. Use that greedy tongue."
He lapped at her like a starving animal, slurping up every drop of wetness that dripped down her thighs. Her pussy was soaked, glistening under the fading light, her bare ass fully exposed to anyone who might wander by. But she didn’t care. She wanted to be seen, wanted to be devoured.
Robot’s tongue circled her clit, flicking hard and fast, then dipping down to stab into her hole. She gasped and bucked her hips, shoving more of herself onto his face. "Yes! Tongue-fuck me. Fuck me with that dirty mouth."
He obeyed, burying his face between her legs, sucking her lips into his mouth, licking every fold until she was trembling. Her juices coated his chin, his nose, his whole lower face. He couldn’t get enough. The taste of her—pure filth, pure need—drove him wild.
"You like that, don’t you?" she breathed, her voice ragged. "You like licking a bare-bottomed slut in public."
He pulled back just long enough to gasp, "God, yes. Give me more."
She grabbed his hair again and shoved him back onto her cunt. "Then keep eating. Don’t stop until I tell you."
Robot’s tongue dove into her again, fucking her open, lapping at the gooey cream that seeped out. He sucked her clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip, and felt her whole body tense. Her moans echoed off the nearby trees, loud and shameless.
"That’s it, that’s it," she chanted, her fingers twisting in his hair. "Make me cum with that nasty tongue."
He redoubled his efforts, licking faster, slurping louder, his hands gripping her bare ass to pull her closer. The wet sounds of his mouth on her pussy filled the air—sloppy, greedy, obscene.
Puta Girl threw her head back, her dress still bunched around her waist, her mound completely exposed. "Oh fuck, I’m gonna—keep going, don’t you fucking stop—"
Her climax hit hard. Her pussy pulsed against his tongue, flooding his mouth with her release. He drank it down, sucking and licking through every wave, not letting up until she finally pushed his head away.
She stood there, panting, her thighs shiny with her own wetness. Her eyes were half-lidded, satisfied. "Good boy," she said, her voice low. "But I’m not done with you yet."
Robot looked up at her, his face slick, his cock straining in his pants. He was ready for whatever she commanded next.
Her knees wobbled, barely holding her up. Another orgasm like that, standing, and she'd collapse. She grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and barked, "Lay on your back."
Rob scrambled to obey, dropping flat on the tile floor. The late shift cubicles buzzed with low moans as the program weaved into their minds. Fucking perfect. A crowded office, right in the middle of it.
"Good worm," she muttered as she dropped to her knees, straddling his head. Her wet, bare pussy hovered over his mouth, then she slammed down, grinding hard. "Lick. Eat."
His tongue shot out immediately, desperate and greedy, stabbing into her slit. She groaned, rolling her hips, facefucking him with her cunt right there in the open cubicle aisle. If anyone walking by could see her bare ass bouncing, her dress bunched around her waist, his head between her thighs, but they were all being mindfucked at the moment. The thought made her clit throb.
"Yeah, fuck my pussy with that mouth," she hissed, grinding harder. "Show all these office workers what a slut you are."
Robot bucked his hips wildly, his cock straining in his pants. But he didn't dare touch himself—he just lay there, moaning into her soaked cunt, his tongue flicking and lapping at her clit. The vibrations of his muffled groans buzzed straight through her, making her wetter.
She leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs, and looked down along his body. His back arched just a little, frozen mid-thrust, and then she saw it—a dark, spreading wet spot in the front of his pants. Creamed. He'd fucking creamed his pants like a horny teenager.
"Did you just cum in your pants?" she snarled, but her hips never stopped grinding. She dug her nails into his thighs. "What a pathetic fucking worm you are. Can't even last two minutes with my pussy on your face."
Robot's only answer was a frantic, moaning cry into her cunt. His tongue worked faster, trying to please her, trying to earn more of her contempt.
She laughed, low and cruel. "I guess my pussy makes boys cream in their pants or all over their face. Either way, you're a mess."
She rode him harder, slamming her hips forward, her clit rubbing against his nose and upper lip. Every impact sent a jolt of pleasure through her. Her wetness smeared across his cheeks, his chin, his fucking glasses—she didn't care. She wanted to drown him in it.
"Look at you," she panted, sweat beading on her forehead. "Lying there, covered in my juice, your dick throbbing in your ruined pants. And you're not even done yet. You're going to eat me until I cum again, and then maybe I'll let you suck your own mess off my pussy."
His tongue plunged into her hole, fucking her deep, and she gasped, arching her back. The office faded from her thoughts. All she could feel was his greedy mouth devouring her, his desperate need to please her.
"That's it," she growled, her pace quickening. "Eat me. Eat that dirty cunt. Make me cum again, you pathetic piece of shit."
Her orgasm built fast, electric and raw, coiling in her gut. She clamped her thighs around his head, pressing him deeper, and rode his face like a wild animal. The pressure, the heat, the humiliation she was dishing out—it all crashed together.
"I'm fucking cumming!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the cubicle walls.
Her pussy clenched, flooding his mouth with a fresh gush of cream. He drank it all, sucking and licking, not stopping until she pushed off him, panting, dripping, triumphant.
Puta Girl slid like a wet noddle off of Robot’s face. Her breathing heavy, coming in great gasps. Her legs slick with a combination of mostly her own juices but mixed with his salvia. She collapsed next to his used form. They both laid there quietly for a while. Their peaceful bliss was broken by the moans coming from their coworkers.
Robot pushed himself up from the office floor, his short frame unfolding with a submissive stretch. The tight tan pants clung to his thighs, the front darkened by a thick, dry cum stain that spread across his crotch like a badge of his earlier release. His cock twitched inside, already stirring back to life from the hypnotic pull of the spirals still flickering on all the monitors. He glanced down, smirking at the evidence of his load, knowing it screamed his raw need to anyone looking.
Puta Girl's eyes locked on that stain from where she lounged nearby, her tight Latina body coiled with eager tension. She bit her lip, her gaze hungry, tracing the outline of his thickening bulge. The office air hummed with soft moans escaping from every corner, a symphony of building lust that made her pussy ache. Rob caught her stare, feeling a rush of power surge through him. "They should be getting close," he said, voice low and commanding, stepping toward the maze of desks.
Marcus, the fifty-three, silver-haired, and clad in a tailored navy suit that usually commands respect in board meetings. Now his tie is loosened, top button undone, sweat beading along his temples as his eyes lock onto the glowing spiral on his monitor. The graphic design software he was using is long forgotten—the screen has become an abyss of pulsing, rotating hypnotic lines that drill into his consciousness.
His right hand, still clutching a fountain pen, trembles before dropping it with a clatter. The sound barely registers. His fingers slide up his thigh, kneading the expensive wool of his trousers. A low, gravelly groan escapes his lips—deep and resonant, the sound of a man who hasn't touched himself in public since adolescence. His palm presses flat against the growing bulge in his slacks, massaging in slow, circular motions. His hips twitch involuntarily, rocking forward into his own grip.
"Ahhh... fuck..." The words slur from his mouth, drool gathering at the corner of his lips. His cock strains against the zipper, visibly tenting the fabric. With clumsy urgency, he fumbles with his belt, unbuckling, unbuttoning, pulling down the zipper with a harsh zzzzip. His hand dives inside, wrapping around his shaft through his boxer briefs. The first stroke makes him moan louder, head lolling back, eyes never leaving the spiral.
He strokes himself with increasing desperation, precum soaking the cotton, a wet spot spreading as he groans the spiral's rhythm—each rotation of the design pulling another shuddering moan from his chest.
He strode past the rows, his stained pants would be drawing glances that fueled his exhibitionist high, but all his coworkers were being enlightened at the moment. Monitors glowed with spirals spinning faster now, black-and-white swirls pulsing like a heartbeat, dragging every viewer deeper into obedience. At the first desk, Sarah—blonde analyst with perky tits straining her blouse—had her skirt hiked up, thighs spread wide. Her fingers plunged into her shaved pussy, slick sounds mixing with her whimpers as juices coated her hand. Her eyes locked on the dancing colors on the screen with, not stopping, her face flushed with desperate need.
Over in the corner cubicle, Chloe, barely twenty-two, slumps in her mesh office chair. She was tracking data spreadsheets before the spiral appeared. Now her glasses are askew, her plaid skirt hiked up around her hips, panties dangling from one ankle. Her blouse is unbuttoned, bra pushed up under her chin, exposing her flushed breasts.
She's completely nude from the waist down, thighs spread wide, slick fingers buried deep inside her pussy. Her other hand pinches and rolls her left nipple, tugging hard enough to leave red marks. The soft, breathy moans she makes are punctuated by sharp gasps each time she curls her fingers inside herself.
"Please... please... more..." She doesn't know who she's begging. Her hips grind against her own palm, her juices dripping onto the chair's fabric, making a dark, wet stain. Eyes locked on the spiral, pupils blown wide, she adds a second finger, then a third, stretching herself open, a lewd squelching sound filling the quiet office.
Robot’s cock hardened fully, pressing against the cum-crusted fabric, precum leaking anew to darken the stain further. The thrill hit him hard—watching his coworkers unravel in public, their professional shells cracking under the spiral's command. He paused by Mike's station, where the stocky sales guy had yanked his zipper down, fat cock in hand, stroking slow and deliberate. Precum beaded at the tip, dripping onto his keyboard as he groaned, eyes glued to his screen.
In the server room, bathed in the cool blue glow of blinking lights, Keith leans back in his rolling stool. He's thirty-four, lanky, wearing a faded band tee and cargo shorts. Earbuds dangle around his neck, forgotten. The spiral fills the secondary monitor he uses for network diagnostics.
Keith's hand is wrapped around his thick, uncut cock, which stands fully erect, tip glistening with a shiny pearl of precum. He jerks slowly, methodically, the same rhythm as the spiral's rotation. His balls are tight, drawn up, and a low, continuous moan vibrates through his throat—almost like a hum, wordless but animalistic.
His free hand cups his balls, squeezing gently as he strokes from base to tip, thumb smearing the precum down his shaft. His thighs are tensed, spreading wider on the stool. "Unnngh... yeah... that's it..." The words are barely coherent, lost between grunts and heavy breaths.
He shifts, planting his feet on the floor, and fucks up into his fist, pace quickening. The chair rocks with each thrust of his hips. Sweat darkens his shirt, and his moans grow ragged, louder. His eyes are glued to the hypnotic lines, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate, as the spiral demands more.
"Fuck, look at you all," Robot growled, his voice carrying over the rising moans. His own excitement was building. Puta Girl trailed him now, her hips swaying, one hand slipping under her short skirt to rub her clit through damp panties. She pressed close, whispering hot against his ear, "Look how your little perked is pushing on that stain... makes me want to lick it clean right here." Her words sent a jolt straight to his balls, his submissive side roaring to be claimed by her amid the chaos. “But there are packages I need to deliver to a few of our lucky ones.” She turned back to her desk where she had the boxes. As she walked away, Robot turned to watch the sway of her ass.
Tina’s moans next to him pitch higher as she works her clit with her thumb, circles frantic and rough. "Oh god yes yes yes..." Pre-cum and pussy juice smear across her fingers, her thighs trembling. She's on the verge, but the spiral keeps her teetering, never letting her fall, just endless, aching arousal. Robot stood over her, rubbing his cock from over his pants.
Puta Girl moved around the perimeter of her desk, the sharp click of her heels marking a steady, deliberate rhythm against the floor. She gathered the small, brown-wrapped packages, checking the names scrawled on the labels with a critical eye. The air in the office was recycled and cool, but she carried her own atmosphere with her—the scent of dark, crushed petals and heavy florals of her perfume. She smoothed the fabric over her hip, ensuring it lay perfectly before lifting the sleek black bag from the corner to slide the first parcel inside.
The heavy oak door to the inner office swung open with a sudden, well-oiled click. Puta Girl didn’t start, but her hand paused mid-air, hovering over the stack of packages. Mr. Steel stepped out first, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with a casual, practiced flick of his wrists. Just a half-step behind him followed the blonde intern, a flash of platinum hair and the confident stride of someone who had just received exactly what they wanted.
Mr. Steel’s gaze swept across the room before landing on her. He offered a curt, distracted nod. "Puta Girl," he said, his voice carrying the easy authority of the floor. "How’s the programming coming along?"
She finished tucking the package into her bag and straightened, turning to face him. "It’s going well, Mr. Steel," she replied, keeping her tone professional, though her eyes flicked briefly to the open door of his office. "The code is compiling cleanly. However," she paused, letting the silence hang for a beat, "Robot’s being a bit of a pervert again."
Mr. Steel barely reacted, offering only a noncommittal hum. Puta Girl let her gaze slide past him to the woman standing in his shadow. The blonde was striking, her dress immaculate, her heels high enough to command attention. Puta Girl tilted her head slightly, the movement shifting the dark perfume around them. "How did it go with… her?" she asked, the emphasis on the pronoun subtle but sharp.
The blonde shifted her weight, the movement fluid and predatory. She stepped around Mr. Steel, bypassing the boundary of the doorway to enter the main office area. She didn’t stop at a polite distance; instead, she walked directly toward Puta Girl’s desk, invading the established workspace with an audacious lack of hesitation.
"Her has a name," the blonde replied. Her voice was smooth, lacking any defensiveness, sounding instead amused by the omission. She moved closer, stepping around the edge of the desk until she was fully inside Puta Girl’s personal space. "I’m Barbie Doll."
Puta Girl stood her ground, though her posture tightened, her spine straightening against the back of her chair. She looked from the blonde’s smiling face to Mr. Steel, searching for some sign of reprimand or explanation. "Barbie Doll?" she echoed, one eyebrow arching slightly.
Mr. Steel leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "She named herself," he said with a casual shrug, as if they were discussing a new software plugin rather than a person’s identity. A slow smile began to grow across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "And the enlightenment went very, very well."
Barbie Doll let out a low, throaty laugh, the sound vibrating in the quiet office. She took another step forward, closing the remaining distance between them. "So fucking well," she purred, her eyes locking onto Puta Girl’s with an intensity that bordered on aggression. She didn't lower her voice, letting the crude words hang in the air. "Did you get a chance to take his big fucking dick?"
Puta Girl’s breath hitched, the sudden shift in the conversation catching her off guard. She opened her mouth to speak, to deflect or to object, but Barbie Doll didn't wait for a response.
"My pussy feels well used," Barbie Doll continued, the words rolling off her tongue with a shameless satisfaction. She pressed forward, her body closing the gap until she was flush against Puta Girl. The heat of her was palpable through the thin layers of their dresses, a stark contrast to the cool office air. Puta Girl could feel the curve of the other woman’s hips against her own, the deliberate pressure of her chest, and the overwhelming scent of her perfume mixing with the floral darkness of her own.
Puta Girl’s hands hovered at her sides, unsure whether to push away or to grip the edge of the desk for stability. The blonde’s presence was overwhelming, a physical force that demanded acknowledgment, leaving no room for the professional distance that had existed only moments before.
Puta Girl’s fingers finally curled into fists—not to strike, but to anchor herself against the sudden, overwhelming proximity of the other woman. The sharp bite of her manicured nails digging into her palms was the only thing keeping her grounded as the scent of Barbie Doll’s perfume—something cloying and sweet, like overripe fruit—invaded her senses, clashing violently with her own dark, floral signature. She felt the heat radiating from the blonde’s body, a physical weight that pressed against her personal space like a velvet curtain dropping to cut off the exit.
Then came the breath, hot and damp, ghosting over the sensitive shell of her ear. Barbie Doll’s lips grazed the skin there, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity racing down Puta Girl’s spine, tightening her nipples against the fabric. The whisper was barely audible, yet it resonated in the quiet office with the force of a scream. "You’re next, sweetheart."
The words hung in the stale air, dripping with a promise that felt more like a threat. Barbie Doll pulled back slowly, a deliberate movement that allowed Puta Girl to see past the blonde’s shoulder. Her gaze landed on Mr. Steel, who had not retreated to his office but remained leaning against the doorframe. His earlier detachment, that bored corporate indifference she had grown accustomed to, had evaporated. In its place was something far more predatory, a dark, unreadable amusement that crinkled the corners of his eyes and sharpened the line of his jaw. He wasn’t just watching; he was feasting on the tension, his eyes tracking the microscopic distance between their bodies with the focus of a hawk spotting movement in the grass. The realization hit Puta Girl with the force of a physical blow—this confrontation, this collision of perfume and ego, hadn’t just happened; it had been orchestrated. She was a player in a scene she hadn’t auditioned for.
Barbie Doll wore a smirk of absolute victory, certain she had cowed the dark-haired woman with her crude bravado and physical audacity. But the expression faltered for the first time, cracking like porcelain under pressure, as Puta Girl’s hand snaked out from her side. Her movement was a blur, fueled by a sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the thrill of the hunt. Her fingers clamped around Barbie Doll’s wrist, not with a weak, trembling grip of submission, but with the iron strength of challenge. She dug her thumb into the soft pulse point beneath the blonde’s skin, feeling the rhythm of her blood accelerate beneath the pressure.
The air in the office seemed to thicken, charged with a new kind of static. Puta Girl stepped closer, invading Barbie Doll’s space right back, refusing to yield an inch. She tilted her head up, her eyes locking onto the blonde’s with a intensity that could burn. Her voice dropped, low and rough, a velvet growl that vibrated in her throat. "If you’re so well-used, darling, let’s see if you can keep up."
The words hung between them like a dare, heavy and explicit. It wasn’t just a rejection of the blonde’s dominance; it was a counter-offer, a gauntlet thrown down that promised to test every inch of Barbie Doll’s stamina and composure. Puta Girl didn’t blink, her gaze boring into the other woman, watching the pupils dilate, seeing the flush rise on her neck. The power dynamic hadn't just shifted; it had exploded, fragmenting into something jagged and dangerous.
A low, rich chuckle rumbled from the doorway, cutting through the thick silence. Mr. Steel pushed off the frame, the sound of his expensive shoes on the floor echoing like a gunshot in the sudden quiet. He looked like a man who had just found the evening’s main course after being served appetizers for hours. His eyes danced between them, gleaming with a sadistic delight that suggested he was already imagining the various ways this could play out.
“Ladies, ladies, let’s not fight,” Mr. Steel said, his tone smooth and mocking, as if he were breaking up a playground scuffle rather than a high-stakes sexual standoff. He took a slow step, closing the distance to the desk, his presence dominating the room instantly. “I think you have to get those packages to the right Dolls before you start unwrapping each other.”
He let the innuendo land, his gaze sliding over the brown-wrapped boxes on the desk before returning to the women, his expression shifting from amusement to a command that brokered no argument. The office was no longer just a workplace; it was a cage, and he held the key, watching with rapt attention to see which predator would strike first.
“You are right Mr. Steel,” Puta Girl answered. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Barbie Doll and said, "Help me drop these off and then we can finish this conversation.” The two of them glared at each other and picked up the brown wrapped boxes. They both passed him with a huff. They split apart to drop the packages to each coworker.
“Those two are going to be trouble,” Mr. Steel said to nobody.