It was going to be another late night. Thanks to a last minute rush, and a refusal to start key shut down processes early, Ryan was running way behind closing down store. The only problem with Quickburger’s “Eat Late” promotions was it worked—plenty of people raced from the local factories on their 3rd shift lunch to get their fast food fix before it closed.
Ryan refused to stop serving customers while there was still a line, which led to the actual closing coming almost fifteen minutes after the posted time. This didn’t slow the crew down nearly as much as it did Ryan—while cars waited on fries to cook, and burgers to be flipped, the team was able to wash dishes and turn off appliances not in use. They weren’t concerned with building sales, hitting the bonus threshold, or the budget. They just wanted to go home as fast as possible after a long night.
So by the time the signs were shut off, the drive thru windows locked, the grill and fryer finally cooling, the only stuff left to do was manager work—counting the cash, running the reports, recording key business items. It was a common problem for Ryan to get stuck late in his drive to improve sales. It hadn’t quite sunk in that “perfect” would always be the enemy of “good.” So, like many nights before, Ryan refused offers from the crew to hangout with him and locked the door behind them.
Pulling out his phone, Ryan shot a text to his girlfriend. Skratt was off the next day, and had hoped to go out tonight. He smirked as usual when he pulled up her name in the contact list—a curvy blonde with striking looks, the name seemed too harsh for such a lovely creature. He’d brought it up once, but she just shrugged and vaguely blamed her Swedish parents.
<<Me: sorry babe did it again. Wont be out in time to go out L>>
Ryan started working through his routine, not particularly rushing. The place was closed, and he could only speed things up so much by racing. Better not make mistakes and have to redo anything. The slow and steady style is one of the reasons Ryan looked at his phone when it buzzed, instead of just ignoring it.
<<Skratt: you work too hard :-p i think we should play a game…>>
Despite himself, Ryan felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. He forced himself to carefully finish closing the register before answering. Ryan had an idea what Skratt had in mind.
<<Me: and what sort of game should we play huh?? you want me driving home with my clothes in the trunk again? ;-)>>
Ryan cursed himself, realizing he forgot to count the walk-in freezer before close. The one thing he could have done earlier…and no cell reception. He flew through the bags of chicken and cases of beef, and after stepping back out of the metal box a text was waiting for him.
<<Skratt: thats a good idea too J but first you should mop the floors naked :-D>>
Ryan bit his lip, and had to adjust his fly. Skratt was pretty ruthless at exploiting his exhibitionist kink.
<<Me: at work??? no way you know theres cameras :-p and julio already mopped>>
Ryan had most of the reports run out onto the receipt tape by the time Skratt texted back. He almost dropped the phone in his haste to flip it open and read it.
<<Skratt: you told me no one ever checks those without a reason and you know the floors could stand to get done twice :-p>>
In the middle of typing another protest, Ryan’s phone buzzes again.
<<Skratt: i DARE you to mop those floors naked>>
“That is NOT fair!” Ryan actually stamped his foot. Skratt had figured out early on Ryan couldn’t refuse a dare, no matter how foolish. As far as trump cards go, it’s a pretty hefty liability. He hurried back to the office, hoping to get the last of the manager work squared away before Skratt started having other ideas.
<<Me: fine. ill mop the floors naked. lemme finish paperwork…>>
<<Skratt: clothes folded neatly in the office way out of reach. i want a pic of them 🙂 start in back work to the dining room>>
<<Me: ugh that means stuck naked in front of windows till everything dries!>>
<<Skratt: if your cock isnt rock hard right now ill let you off the hook…>>
Ryan cursed again. He was pitching a circus tent in his khakis. He briefly considered lying, but decided to send her a pic of it instead.
<<Skratt: 😀 😀 😀 i know you. now strip and get to work ;-)>>
Sighing, wishing he could just stop and jerk off instead of seeing the fantasy through, Ryan peeled off his uniform and undershirt. He sat down and untied his shoes, rolling his socks off and tucking them into the shoes. Ryan paused a moment to consider his lime green toenails—the product of another dare Skratt gave him. Somehow showing off the polish job at work made the situation seem absurd, even more than being bare-assed in the kitchen.
Once he was naked and everything folded neatly on the desk, Ryan snapped a picture of the pile and went to fill the mop bucket. He checked the phone one more time before getting to it—Ryan obviously had no way to carry the phone once he started mopping.
<<Skratt: good boy!! 😉 dont take too long or the opener is gonna catch you :-p>>
Grumbling to himself, Ryan got to work, mimicking the same pattern the crew would take on mopping, working from the breakroom corner outward. Being naked in the kitchen, and mopping with his privates flopping around making him feel ridiculous well before reaching the front counter—where anyone driving by would be able to see him.
Stopping to stroke himself a few times for courage, Ryan rolled a fresh mop bucket past the counter. Nervously he glanced out the windows, but didn’t see anyone the parking lot or near enough on the street to worry about. A glutton for punishment, Ryan followed the normal procedure—start with the bathrooms, work out. It made sure the escape route back to Ryan’s clothes was wet as long as possible, something he was sure Skratt would approve of.
There was only one moment while waiting on the floor to dry Ryan had to dive for cover—a car swung through the lot, no doubt hoping dining room lights mean the place was still open. Ryan thought it slowed down, but since he was hiding couldn’t be sure. He shook it off, and gratefully realized the floor had dried. When he made it back to the office, Ryan saw a text.
<<Skratt: just carry your clothes out and toss them in the trunk 😉 if you can avoid cops long enough to get home you wont need them>>
Ryan was closing the next night, and it was with some nervousness he approach the general manager who had opened. Ryan hadn’t set the alarm code till close to 330 that morning, but Leslie didn’t seem too worried about that.
“This better not be drugs, jackass.” She tossed a small cardboard box to Ryan with a smirk, knowing Ryan could never cut it as a drug dealer. “Don’t make a habit of having stuff delivered here, ok?”
“Yeah, definitely, sorry. Rare case, I promise.” Ryan shook it curiously—either empty or well packed—then set it down on the desk.
A quick turnover—pertinent supply details (low on large cups till truck gets in), verifying the safe, and Leslie was ready to go. An attractive, no-nonsense woman, Ryan may have had unpure thoughts about receiving “corrective action” from Leslie from time to time. Being around her too long brought on nervousness, and Ryan waited somewhat impatiently for her to go home.
“By the way, Ryan, I don’t know what you said to Julio—but the floors looked amazing today. Even Jenny said something.” Jenny was the district manager, notorious for never being satisfied with a store’s floor.
Ryan felt sure his face turned red, and he laughed nervously. “I don’t even remember. Probably felt sorry for me trying to explain “DM is visiting tomorrow” in Spanish.”
Leslie held Ryan’s gaze, then smiled. “Who knows. But good work. I’ll see you Sunday—I traded with Rick for tomorrow.”
Ryan nodded and said his goodbyes, wondering if this morning was the morning Leslie spot-checked the security tapes. That would be his luck…
Noting the restaurant was calm for the moment, Ryan cut open the box, sure Skratt had left some gag gift to remind him of the dare. Inside, however, was a plastic tube and a folding ring—Ryan knew from the internet he was looking at a chastity device.
Heart racing, Ryan moved the packing material around. He found a tiny, open padlock and a folded note. He opened the note, curious, knowing he and Skratt had talked about things like this…
“I noticed last night everything kept swinging out of control, and you had to keep playing with yourself. This should help keep you focused tonight—lock it on before dinner rush.” It was typed, and unsigned. Ryan found himself needing to adjust again, then pulled out his phone.
<<Me: chastity device? delivered to work? youre pushing the line, now, missy>>
<<Skratt: wtf are you talking about? sounds like a not so subtle hint to me>>
<<Me: come on the box you left at work with the cock cage and the key? dont play>>
<<Skratt: …you quit playing. i didnt drop anything at your work and you know i like sex too much to lock it away>>
A little scared now, Ryan sent Skratt a picture of the device and the note.
<<Skratt: OMG. i dont know if thats awesome or fucked up. someone knows what you did last night :-p>>
<<Me: so what do i do now?? this is how horror movies start>>
<<Skratt: LMAO whatever. i bet its leslie fucking with you.>>
Ryan thought about that, about how awkward Leslie was before leaving. And how she traded shifts…if she was off tomorrow instead of opening, Leslie could easily try to catch him in the act of…whatever she saw on the video. It was almost a sexy thought, if you could ignore how many reasons Leslie now had to fire him.
<<Skratt: i dare you to lock it on O:-)>>