Kat Dress Code

Description:

My employee, Kat Snow, sauntered into the office on Friday morning, poured into a web of nylon bodysuit that left little to the imagination. Her skirt clung to her like a second skin, and her boots— gleaming patent leather—hugged her calves. She was perched in her office, a queen bee in her hive, when I darkened her doorway to discuss the blatant infraction of the company dress code. Kat merely rolled her eyes, her lips a tight, defiant line. She saw nothing wrong with her ensemble, she declared, adding that she had plans to go to the club after work. The final straw was her dismissive shrug, and my patience shattered. It was high time someone taught her a lesson.

I crossed the room in three swift strides, a rope and bandana in hand. Before she could protest, I had her secured to her chair, the bandana tightly knotted behind her head. Her eyes flashed with fury as I informed her that this would be her reality until the day ended. I warned her that this would be her punishment each time she broke the dress code. She strained against her bonds, her face a shade of crimson that clashed with her fiery hair, but it was clear that escape was not an option.

Kat was left with no choice but to sit there, a captive audience to the parade of coworkers who filed past her office. They pointed, they laughed, their eyes wide with disbelief and amusement. Her humiliation was complete, her defiance reduced to impotent glares.