“Good morning, Donna,” Mister Messina said, greeting his employee with a cheerful wave as she let herself into the coffee shop through the side door and went around behind the counter. “And how’s my property today, mm?” Donna froze for a moment, her eyes glazing over as his question slipped past her conscious mind and connected with a portion of her personality carefully sequestered away from her waking awareness. It found a response that she was supposed to give to a question like that, and prompted her mouth to open and reply without ever stirring any of the inconvenient thoughts that might disrupt her blissful sense of fulfillment with her boss.
“Property doesn’t wear panties,” she said, her waking self instantly dismissing the phrase as a nonsense in-joke between her and her employer. She’d been working for Mister Messina at Grounds for Action for almost two years now, opening the store with him before the first customer walked in and staying late to close, and they’d developed a number of little private sayings and playful banter that none of their upscale clientele would ever understand. That was why she only ever said them when it was just the two of them like this, and why she dismissed them from her mind as quickly as she said them. She had important jobs to do, after all, like stocking the cups and sweeping the floors and grabbing the counter with both hands before thrusting her ass as far out as it would go so Mister Messina could inspect his property.
Her eyes glazed over again, and then again and again as she felt him flip up her skirt and inspect her slick, sopping cunt with his fingers. Every time, Donna went through the same cycle of recognizing the pleasure, becoming slowly aware of the source, realizing she was hypnotized to forget, and emptying her mind of all knowledge of what was currently happening to her below the waist. The repeated loops of astonished awareness and obedient vapidity fractionated her consciousness in mere moments, so that after only a few minutes of being groped and fingered Donna stared straight ahead in blank, fascinated rapture. She didn’t know she was being touched. She didn’t know anything.
“That’s my good property,” Mister Messina purred, pulling his cock out of his fly and pushing into her from behind. Donna never thought twice about how early she arrived in the morning for her shift, or about why it always took them so long to get ready. She only knew she was happy to come to work each day and do her best for the boss she adored so much. The half-hour he spent before the coffee shop opened railing her wet pussy simply slipped past her waking awareness and into the deep, blissful void of pleasure at the bottom of her mind. Donna let it tumble away. She didn’t need to think about it, not when forgetting made her cum so very hard. “Is my property ready to work hard for its owner?”
Donna grunted, drool dripping on the counter as she stared out onto the empty street outside without really seeing it. In a few minutes, she’d wipe up that same drool without ever considering its source. “P-property obeys,” she moaned, grinding back on Mister Messina’s cock until he spurted a load of thick, sticky jizz into her needy cunt. He pulled out, she straightened up, and without even a casual awareness of the semen leaking down her thigh, Donna’s day finally began.
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