Susan's Promotion

[Richard]

Hello folks,

I’m not sure who I’m addressing but Uncle Richard (oops, I forgot, I’m supposed to call him Sotonude), asked me to write this account of a recent adventure. I know that he’s been posting my letters on the internet, dirty old sod, and now he has asked me to tell you what I’ve been doing since he last told you about me. So, here goes.

No doubt you remember that I work in an office and my boss is called Peter. The senior partner, Robin, has finally retired and Peter is now in full charge. He needed someone to be the line manager and be in charge when he wasn’t around and he chose me, goodness knows why. All of the other girls are still here and they seem to accept me as their senior.

Soon after my promotion, Yvonne suggested that we had a girly bonding session to celebrate my good fortune so we had a discussion and decided on an old fashioned messy session like we used to do when we were all juniors, mad and fancy free. Mary found a company who specialises in such events and can offer accommodation as well as facilities for slapstick fun so we booked a Saturday afternoon, followed by a meal and beds for the night.

It’s unusual for me to work on Saturdays but at the last minute Peter said that he had something urgent and could I help. I was a little annoyed but agreed to go in till midday. It meant that I had to wear my office suit but I figured that if I took my old stuff in the back of the car I could change when I joined the rest of the girls at the arranged place. Peter insists that, as his representative I should be smartly dressed so I had invested in a pale grey suit, with a knee length skirt, quite tight but with a pleat at the back to allow me to walk comfortably. The jacket was elegantly styled, with slanted pockets and a narrow waist to emphasise my figure. I wore a white blouse with a piece of black ribbon at the high neck to finish it nicely and, not that it concerns you but, a pair of satin directoire knickers underneath. I don’t like wearing a bra and I certainly wasn’t going to do so on this occasion, after all the blouse was perfectly decent and opaque.

At first I couldn’t understand why Peter had asked me to come in to the office as all he did was keep me hanging about while he made phone calls in his office. Then I had to get sandwiches for us both and he didn’t let me go until about 2pm. That was the time we had booked to start our fun afternoon so I had quite a rush to get there and arrived only about an hour late. The other girls’ cars were already parked so I left mine alongside and went off in search of the rest of the gang.

There was a passageway between two buildings with an ‘entrance’ sign so I went through, only to be hit by two buckets of water, one from each side, as I emerged into a courtyard! Naturally I was surprised and very annoyed to have my lovely suit soaked, but that was only the beginning. My so called friends and colleagues descended upon me armed with lots of eggs which they inserted into my pockets, breaking the eggs as they did so. More eggs were then broken over my head and rubbed into my hair, also smeared over the back and front of the jacket and skirt. The eggs were followed by custard pies in several colours until my face and my suit became completely covered.

I was unable to see properly but someone must have produced a pair of scissors as I felt the sleeves of my jacket being cut open then torn right up to the shoulders. The lapels followed as did the back seam until the ragged remains were finally torn away completely. The water had made my blouse slightly see-through but then it was covered with paint, initially applied with brushes then poured over me by the bucketful.

Now, I’m not stupid, so I had worked out that Peter was in on the plot and had deliberately delayed me so that the others could get prepared and give me a reception appropriate to my newly exalted position so that I wouldn’t get too far above myself. I therefore felt justified in retaliating; I had discovered where they were getting their ammunition from and made a dash for the pile of pies and paint pots. This move took them all by surprise and by the time they had turned to follow I was ready for them. I caught Mary with a huge pie, right in the face then threw a pot of red paint over Jackie and another over Helen. Yvonne received a volley of eggs which stopped her in her tracks and for the moment I seemed to have the upper hand.

Not for long though as they advanced on me from all four directions at once and while I was defending myself valiantly against Sally and Helen, Mary and Yvonne attacked me from the rear and I felt my skirt being ripped asunder and my bottom being pied. My knickers received a bucketful of paint, which immediately ran out down my legs but it was sufficient to allow them to grab my arms and legs and wrestle me to the ground. I was spread out on my back whilst they gave my knickers a thorough work over with paint and custard. They then took my ankles and held me upside down in order to fill my knickers with bowlfuls of eggs and baked beans poured in through the leg holes and held in place by the tight waistband.

I was actually quite relieved when they finally cut my knickers and blouse to shreds and allowed me to stand up. More humiliation was to follow though as someone turned a hosepipe on me and my naked body was washed clean with icy cold water. As if that were not enough, they conducted me to the main building where the staff were waiting to greet me. The manager, a man in his fifties with a scruffy black beard, shook me by the hand and introduced me to a young man who had just retrieved my bag of spare clothes from my car. I had dropped my keys during the skirmish and they had been picked up so that he could get into my car. Neither of these two men made any secret of the fact that they were examining my bare body very closely. I suppose it was a perk of the job for them; it’s a good thing that I am not shy in such circumstances.

There were several young girls also present, who I surmised were waitresses and chambermaids, they were giggling at the bulges in the trousers of their male colleagues and I wondered if there was as much fornication in their establishment as there was in ours. We were all taken upstairs by one of the young ladies and shown where the showers were, also the dormitory bedroom with three king sized beds which we were to share.
As well as my bag from the car, there were six suitcases by the beds and I recognised one of them as mine! I questioned Yvonne and she eventually told me that my boyfriend Brian had been recruited to pack some more of my clothes which would be needed for the weekend. Apparently he had got my mother to help him to choose some appropriate stuff while Peter had me trapped in the office all morning. I began to wonder if the whole world was conspiring against me!

The evening was to start with a few drinks in the bar before sitting down for the meal so I searched through the suitcase and found a suitable dress. It was a pale cream above the knee and with a strappy top, not one of my favourites and I had been considering giving it to the charity shop, but still, it would have to do. I also found some lacy white panties and matching suspenders to wear with my stockings.

When we had all got tidied up and changed, we wandered down to the bar, only to find that we were not the only party there for the weekend. There were half a dozen young men there already and we found that they were members of a sort of sploshing forum on the internet who got together occasionally for face to face meetings. Usually they met in a London pub but on this occasion they had decided to have a proper sploshing session just like us. They were planning to have their messy session the following morning and were all very interested to hear about my experiences during the afternoon.

After a couple of cocktails we were called into the dining room but I was rather disappointed to find that it was more like a canteen than the posh establishment I had been expecting. All twelve of us were seated round a single long table and the two parties mingled together to continue our socialising. The waitresses were, as expected, the young ladies who we had met earlier; this time they were all dressed as French maids, in ultra short dresses which displayed their frilly knickers whenever they bent forwards. The men were very impressed and couldn’t take their eyes off the girls’ bottoms.

The food supplied was adequate but nothing special and we were all soon satisfied. For a sweet course I chose Black Forest gateau but to my surprise the waitress served it straight into my cleavage followed by a jugful of cream. Taken unawares I just sat there in stunned silence but the guy next to me went into paroxysms of laughter. When the girl smeared his shirtfront with a blackcurrant tart, followed by a jug of custard over his head, he was even more amused and retaliated with a dish of trifle pushed into her bum as she bent over the table. She was obviously expecting something of the sort as she gave a broad smile and turned to me, handing me a creamy concoction to push into the guy’s face.

Similar scenes were occurring all around the table and I saw the manager encouraging his girls to escalate the mayhem by giving and receiving more and more sticky treats, so this was obviously all part of the service! Before long, the sploshing forum boys were ganging up on the waitresses and filling their knickers with anything they could find; the manager and his male assistant meanwhile were wheeling in trolley after trolley loaded with a variety of items, including eggs, bowls of baked beans and sloppy spaghetti in tomato sauce.

Soon the waitresses began to lose their mess sodden frilly knickers and the first to become completely naked was greeted with a huge cheer, led by her colleagues and she was carried shoulder high by them all around the room. Us office girls were occupied meanwhile by trying to destroy as much of the men’s clothing as possible, well, after all, they were doing the same to us! I lost my dress quite early but was able to retain my gunge filled panties almost until the end when everyone collapsed in an exhausted heap on the floor. Helen, the youngest member of our party was not so lucky and I saw her with legs apart having cream eclairs rubbed over her pussy by two of the boys.

After such a brilliant conclusion to the day, we all decided to have an early night so said adieu to the men of the sploshing forum, hoping we would meet again someday. I was somewhat surprised that there was no bed sharing between the two parties but the men insisted that they were only interested in sploshing; most of them had partners at home to whom they were absolutely faithful, Their wives and girlfriends were tolerant of them enjoying sexually stimulating episodes like we had just had but would not stand for infidelity.

The following morning I had a brief chat with one of the ‘waitress’ girls and asked if the mayhem of the previous evening was a normal occurrence. She said that it had been one of the best times as everyone had been so uninhibited, sometimes they had to work really hard to get things going. She also told me that they did various other prearranged scenarios, for instance sometimes guests would wake up to find that the bedroom was being redecorated by the messiest female workers one could imagine and that everyone soon became covered in paste and paint.

She explained that the reason the weekend was so expensive, apart from the cost of the food and other gunge, was partly because she and the other girls were so well paid to create such chaos and be stripped every time by the guests. If real sex with them was required it became even more expensive and so it very rarely happened.

[Squelch]

Water, pies, paint, gunge and ripped clothes. Enjoyed it