Law Firm Mind Control

All characters are over 18. 

"Emily," called Mr. Jarvenson, the senior partner, from his corner office. "Could you step in here for a moment?"

I adjusted my blouse, noticing how the fabric seemed suddenly tight against my chest. Had my breasts grown? I shook off the absurd thought and walked toward the office, my heels clicking on the polished marble floor. The other women in the office – Rachel, Jenna, and the rest – barely looked up from their screens, their movements oddly synchronized, almost robotic.

As I entered Mr. Jarvenson's office, I felt a strange warmth spread through my body. The room seemed to shimmer, the edges of my vision blurring slightly. Mr. Jarvenson sat behind his massive desk, his expensive suit perfectly tailored to his powerful frame. Two other partners, Mr. Black and Mr. White, sat opposite him, their expressions unreadable.

"Close the door, Emily," Mr. Jarvenson said, his voice smooth and commanding.

I complied, my fingers fumbling slightly with the handle. When I turned back to face them, my heart raced for no discernible reason. The three men watched me with predatory intensity, their eyes scanning my body in a way that would have made me uncomfortable weeks ago, but now sent a strange thrill through me.

"You've been doing excellent work," Mr. Jarvenson continued, steepling his fingers. "But we think you could be even more... efficient."

My mind felt fuzzy, like trying to think through a warm fog. I nodded automatically, though I wasn't quite sure what he meant. "I want to be the best associate I can be," I heard myself say, the words sounding distant.

Mr. Black chuckled. "Oh, you will be. You'll be perfect for what we have in mind."

The room seemed to spin gently. I reached out to steady myself against a bookshelf, my fingers tracing the embossed spines of legal volumes. "I... I feel a bit dizzy," I admitted, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth.

"That's quite normal," Mr. White said reassuringly. "Just let yourself relax, Emily. We're going to help you become your best self."

My blouse definitely felt tighter now, restricting my breathing. Without thinking, I unbuttoned the top two buttons, revealing the swell of my breasts pushing against the lace of my bra. The men's eyes darkened with desire as they watched me.

"You have such potential," Mr. Jarvenson said, standing and walking around the desk. He stood close to me, so close I could smell his expensive cologne and something else, something musky and masculine. "Such beautiful potential."

His hand brushed against my breast, and instead of flinching away, I found myself leaning into the touch. A strange warmth spread through my body, pooling between my legs. "Oh," I breathed, my nipples hardening against the fabric of my blouse.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my breast. "You like being touched."

My mind screamed that this was wrong, that this was sexual harassment, but my body betrayed me. I nodded slowly, my gaze locked with his. "Yes," I whispered, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

Mr. Black and Mr. White stood up and approached, forming a triangle around me. The three of them moved with practiced coordination, as if they'd done this many times before. With them, I realized with a start. With other women from the firm.

"Strip for us, Emily," Mr. White commanded. "Show us what you're working with."

My hands moved as if with a will of their own, unbuttoning my blouse and letting it fall to the floor. Then my skirt, my bra, my panties. Soon I stood naked before them, my body flushed and responsive. My breasts felt heavier than I remembered, fuller and rounder. I cupped them in my hands, my thumbs brushing against my nipples.

"Beautiful," Mr. Black breathed. "Just beautiful."

Mr. Jarvenson circled me, his eyes appraising every inch of my body. "Turn around," he ordered. "Bend over."

I complied without hesitation, presenting my ass to them. My pussy was wet, my juices trickling down my thighs. A wave of shame washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper, more primal need.

Mr. Jarvenson's fingers trailed down my spine, then between my ass cheeks. "You're wet already," he observed, sliding one finger into my pussy. "You want this, don't you?"

I moaned as he worked his finger inside me, hitting just the right spot. "Yes," I gasped. "Oh god, yes."

"That's what I like to hear,"...