Equality of outcum

“Excellent presentation Elke. One question on slide two, can you explain where the depreciation is taken into account”. 

“Apologies for the small text. It is in cell c1 right at the top”.

“Where?”

“Right,” turning around and straining to point at the top of the slide, “here”.

“512”.

“No,”, standing on tiptoe and straining even more, “here”. Muffled snickers. 

Realising what he was up to Elke’s attention snapped back to the front bringing her hand down sharply to cover her crotch. Too late. The sudden movement flipped up her ultra-short skirt giving everyone a flash of what she wore underneath. Whoops of joy and congratulatory high-fives followed. For the nth time, she cursed the short pleated skirt. Learning to control her orgasms turned out to be her toughest personal objective this quarter. Every time she failed she lost a centimetre of skirt length and if she did not improve she’s been warned the total number of allotted clothing items would be reduced. With the skirts getting so short she had to become more vigilant in how she sat and moved for fear of flashing her panties. It caused her to constantly tug nervously at the hems of her skirt, conscious of her attire. It wasn’t long before a new game started: “Guess the panty”. Every day bets would be placed on what colour panties she was wearing that day. As an incentive for Elke she was allowed to take the pot if everyone guessed wrong. After several accusations of foul play and cheating a new method for settling the bets was instituted. At 5 every day there was a short unveiling ceremony where she removed the panties in front of a live audience. Given that some bets now involved guessing several days in a row, the panties were pinned to a notice board every day and stayed there as a permanent record. To add some spice to the game she started wearing ever smaller g-strings and found creative ways to hide them. 

With the meeting now concluded everyone got ready to leave the room. As the last to leave after gathering her laptop, she had to shimmy past a line of men at the door all gallantly holding the door for her. Walking the gamut of groping was now almost routine but today there was more intent to the casual groping of her ass and pussy as she wormed her way through the crowded doorway. Her panties had become so small and so transparent that even her current audience wasn’t sure what they’d seen. Some believed she wasn’t wearing any at all. For once, she had the trump card. It felt nice to have one over all of them. Today’s unveiling was going to be spectacular.

The small auditorium was already full as she walked in. Dave, not one to give up an opportunity for showmanship, said with an announcer's voice: “The star of the show has arrived. What shall it be today? Peach. Mahogany. Eggshell. Or maybe some old favourites, pink, red or yellow.” Dave said gesturing at the large collection of panties adorning the notice board. 

“The stakes today are unusually high. There has been speculation. There have been,” dramatic pause for emphasis, “Rumours!”

“Lights, camera action. The moment of revelation is upon us.” Dramatic countdown music that has been playing softly in the background now raises intensity and volume. Elke sways her hips with the beat, sensually swaying her hips slowly moving her hands first over, and then under her skirt. Making a show of fishing for the elusive piece of cloth she slowly brings her hands down her thighs to reveal: nothing! With a flourish, she whips her hands to the sides leaving no illusion that nothing was ever there. There was the usual noise and celebrations until someone shouted over the crowd. 

“Hold on. I am sure I saw a flash of something black earlier. How can we be certain there is really nothing there?”

Elke wanted to object. But she also wanted to cash in on her substantial stake. Ah well, she thought, nothing that they hadn’t seen before. So without further ado, she hoped on the podium, legs open while some of the biggest losers could do a close inspection to ensure there was nothing hidden there at all. Of course, they probably could have done it without rubbing her clit, searching inside her vagina and ass with probing fingers. Maybe the inspection didn’t strictly need to be video recorded and displayed on a special website but her staff was nothing but thorough. On some level that made her quite proud.

After this Elke dearly wanted the game to stop. The excitement was over and just the humiliation remained. She spent an awful amount of money on panties and, given her sleeping schedule, keeping track of her clothes became a herculean effort of logistics. She resolved to never wear panties again and attempted to become so predictable there would be no fun in the game. This probably would’ve worked if it wasn’t for Angie.

Elke didn’t like Angie and the feeling was mutual. Arch enemies since university the two girls were always in competition. Each trying to outsmart, out prank and out-humiliate the other. She really, really did not want to hire Angie and nearly resigned when the idea was proposed. It took several private sessions with Dave to get her to finally see the light. Given her now prolific and extremely time-consuming role of de facto chief social officer (Chief sex officer in most eyes), it wasn’t fair to neglect the HR responsibilities. After herself, Angie was the second-best thing. Second best. She made sure Angie understood this very well. 

Feeling that she finally scored a decisive victory over her erstwhile opponent she relented and the new roles were made official. It was a decision Elke regretted ever since. Angie was a gifted bureaucrat with a special interest in managing one of the company's main assets, Elke. She was so good at garnering consensus with her new policies that she almost had carte blanc in making up new procedures and systems. Thus the informal rules agreed between Elke and the original founders quickly became formal policies in the company's HR system, IT incident systems and project management systems. Elke’s goals and performance objectives (as well as copious photographic and visual documentation) were formally tracked. Where every other employee's name in the organisational chart could be found with a professional headshot and formal title, Elke had a topless photo with the title “Chief Sex Officer” proudly displayed. Where every other organisational chart forms a tree with the CEO at the top, Elke’s company had a unique structure with the CEO at the top, but Elke at the bottom of every branch. The software had to be specially altered to display Elke as the direct report for every employee in the company. Elke’s biography page had a count of every person she had sex with, how many times, and how often she came. When Elke wanted to cum or go to the toilet she had to raise a formal request through the company's service management system that had to be signed off by other employees. 

So it was that Angie helpfully provided a procedure to keep the “Guess the Panty” game alive. The company would take over sourcing of the panties and “manage” those assets through its formal systems. Every time Elke lost her access card Angie had to deal with security on issuing and paying for new cards. Putting the relationship to good use she recruited trustworthy staff into the company's equality of outcome program in exchange for providing the service of fitting Elke with her newly assigned “company asset” every morning as she arrives at the office. Elke herself would not know the colour or even the type of the garment ensuring she could play the game too. She was not allowed to touch the object with her own hands. The guard took care of the proper installation. To keep costs down Angie found the cheapest scraps of material she could. She couldn’t bulk buy as there had to be variety, in both colour, size, cut and material. This really opened up the betting market and all kinds of new bets evolved, including, most embarrassingly,  a bet on the moisture content of the final displayed object. As Elke didn’t own these “company assets” and merely used them, there was a formal IT process for managing them. If Elke had complaints about the product she had to raise these through a formal system. And complain she certainly did. She suspected Angie was specifically buying coarse, dry fabrics to irritate her skin and cause incredible itching or burning. She suspected some materials included fibreglass or some other itching agent as she constantly itched. To make matters worse, as she was not allowed to handle the company assets. She wasn’t even allowed to scratch. She had to raise a service request for someone to scratch her pussy. For some mysterious reason, these requests often had to be fulfilled by Angie. Thus she could be found standing with spread legs, lifting her skirt up with her hands, next to Angie’s desk. Angie would be casually rubbing Elke's pussy whilst she was on the phone or talking to someone. Of course, the release was always temporary and the itch tended to return with even more vigour shortly after. This brought a pronounced change to Elke. Where in the past she passively endured groping she now actively encouraged it. She would do anything to get a temporary respite from the indomitable itching.