Probation Day 2 – 3: The Garden Information Desk (Names Changed, No Content Altered)
I rode to BD Group Headquarters in Dana's car. It was a Sunday morning, so even Gangnam's roads weren't badly congested. Dana said, working the wheel with practiced ease,
"If you need anything at all, feel free to call me anytime."
"Wouldn't that get in the way of your work?"
"Not at all. The most important part of my job is supporting you, Juhan."
"Yeah, got it. By the way—is there anything in the Garden I should be especially careful about?"
"Not that I can think of... Ah! Most of the women inside the Garden are yours to do with as you please, but anyone who has an owner—that is, anyone belonging to another Farm—you mustn't touch carelessly.
"Depending on the Farm's owner, some will freely let others enjoy their A's, but that's far from the norm."
"That's something you can configure?"
"Of course. By default, you need the owner's permission to touch a Farm's A. Usually you can tell that a girl has an owner from various marks, but since you don't know them well yet, Juhan, please be careful around women who are accompanying men.
"That said, there's no need to worry too much. A girl with an owner will make her refusal known on her own, so as long as you don't force anyone, you're free to do as you please."
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."
"And if there's anything you're curious about, just grab anyone and ask—they'll explain everything kindly."
"Got it. Then let's keep in touch—whichever of us finishes first."
"Yes, understood."
Our conversation carried us all the way to the BD Group Headquarters building. We cleared one checkpoint and descended underground through the vehicle entrance of Building B, the road spiraling down a fair depth before passing a second checkpoint and opening into a vast parking lot.
The lot was mostly empty, and the few cars scattered across it were all expensive ones.
"I'll drop you at the entrance. For entry you use your palm, then take the elevator up to the first floor and go in from there. The Garden can only be entered through the first-floor entrance first—you move on to the other levels afterward."
"Okay. Got it."
Dana pulled up in front of the glass doors.
"Enjoy yourself to your heart's content. See you later~"
"Yep, take care~"
After getting out of Dana's car, I waved off the departing vehicle and walked to the door, pressing my palm against the scanner mounted on the glass.
-Beep! Whirrrr~
The door slid open automatically. I stepped inside and walked a short way down a clean, bright corridor until I came to a space with eight elevators, four lined up facing four more. When I rested my hand on the cylinder at the center, one of the elevators lit up.
Judging by the B5 displayed above the elevators, we were on basement level five. A moment later an elevator arrived, its doors opening onto a luxurious, spacious car that was completely empty. I stepped in and looked over the buttons: B5 through B8, and then—only the first floor. Just as Dana had said, the only way in was through the first floor. I pressed 1, waited, and the doors whispered shut.
The elevator moved swiftly and soon reached the first floor. Stepping out, I was met with bright light and soaring ceilings, the interior done in white tones throughout. A glance at the time showed it wasn't yet ten, leaving me plenty of leeway before my reservation.
I stood for a moment and looked around. People were arriving from the other elevators and from outside, and their attire wasn't particularly unusual—enough to leave me, who'd been expecting otherwise, a little disappointed. The men looked ordinary, and while some of the women wore eye-catching outfits, it was nothing you couldn't see out on the street. What stood out were the many women in long coats. Women did outnumber the men, but there were plenty of men about as well.
Following the flow of the crowd, I came to a wide space walled off by a white barrier with several doors set into it. People were lining up along guide lanes running from each door and filing through in turn, while men in black suits stood before every door, checking arrivals and waving them through.
I deliberated over which line to join, but they all looked much the same, so I simply went to the nearest one. As I stood there scrolling through the news on my phone, a strapping man in a black suit and black sunglasses approached. Stopping before me, he dipped his head slightly.
"Pardon me. Wouldn't you happen to be an O, sir?"
"Huh? Oh... yes. I'm still on probation, but I'm O-class."
"Then allow me to escort you this way."
With both hands, the man gestured to the right. There was a door on that side too, but only men in black stood by it—no one was going in. I'd noticed it myself, of course, but I'd assumed it was some special entrance and hadn't given it a second thought.
"Oh! Yes."
Feeling the eyes of the people in line on me, I stepped out of the queue and walked toward where the man had pointed, and as I walked he fell in half a step behind me. I turned my head slightly.
"By the way, how did you recognize me?"
"The device on your wrist and the phone you carry are provided exclusively to O-class, sir."
"Ah~."
"Please scan your palm here, and you may go in."
As I approached, the men in black suits bowed their heads and stepped aside. I felt, for once, like someone who mattered. When I held my palm to the scanner mounted at waist height beside the door, it opened.
"Enjoy your time, sir~"
"Thanks. Keep up the good work."
Under the ninety-degree bows of the strapping men, I stepped inside.
With its open, soaring ceiling and escalators running up and down, the place felt like a giant shopping mall. The space was so vast that it never quite felt crowded, yet there wasn't a single corner without people. As at the entrance, women were more numerous than men, and the men's clothing was no different from outside—but the women's clothing was another story entirely.
Below the waist, exposure was the baseline: micro miniskirts short enough to be called ass-skirts, hot pants that left more than half the cheeks bare. There were plenty of what were called 'hole outfits' as well—thin, clinging garments that left nothing of the figure to the imagination. A few women even wore leggings, which at least technically hid the skin, but the material was so thin you could see every ounce of jiggle as they walked. Many of the leggings had a seam pressed into the center of the rear, putting both cheeks on full display, and up front the camel toe showed brazenly—not one woman bothered to cover it. On top they wore halters, sheer see-throughs, or things that looked outright like underwear or swimwear, the top-style shirts thin and tight enough to show the nipples and the exact shape of the breasts beneath.
If we'd been outside, these would have been the kinds of outfits that had me averting my eyes, worried about other people's stares. The disappointment I'd felt at the entrance vanished without a trace.
Turning my head again and again to take in the women as I walked deeper inside, I came upon a round information desk. It differed from the one in the Gate Wing I'd seen on my first visit to BD Group Headquarters in that it was transparent, revealing everything within—but the far bigger difference was what the women inside were wearing. They had on navy suits, yes, but nothing like the ordinary kind.
The desk staff wore heels, but even so they were tall—easily over 170 centimeters—with heavy makeup. Their hair was combed neatly back into buns, and white scarves circled their necks. The first oddity was the name tags. Even from a distance I could tell the tags were attached to their nipples, and I could tell that because their breasts were exposed: full, heavy tits hanging out in the open with nothing covering them. Both the jackets and the blouses beneath were cut away at the chest, serving only to cradle the breasts from below.
Because the desk was transparent, I could see below as well—and the skirts were far too short. Black panties peeked out from under them. They were tight H-line skirts, but with the panties showing, it was almost too embarrassing to call them skirts. Black garter belts emerged from beneath the hems, clipping into black stockings that ran up to mid-thigh. Both women inside the desk wore the identical outfit.
As I walked toward the desk, one of them turned to face me, hands folded over her navel, and as I drew nearer she bent into a crisp ninety-degree bow.
"Hello and welcome~ How may I help you?"
As she bent, the skirt rode up, and when she straightened the panties showed even more—yet she didn't so much as touch the skirt, her hands returning exactly to their post. Bent over like that, her large tits hung downward under gravity; I had to drag my eyes, which had settled right there, up to her face.
"Ah... is that name tag attached with a piercing?"
My original plan had been to ask where the waxing salon was, but what popped out instead was whatever I happened to be curious about in the moment. The instant I said it I winced—yet the receptionist didn't miss a beat, answering with a smile.
"There are some who do that, but I'm not one of them. I wear my tag by binding it to my nipple with a tightening ring. If I show you, it looks like this."
She leaned her upper body toward me, took the name tag in her hand, and lifted it to show me the part connected to her nipple. Just as she'd said, the tag bore a rubber-like ring, cinched tight around her stiffened brown nipple.
"The employee beside me wears hers with a piercing."
The other woman turned toward me as well and drew her tag downward, showing where tag met nipple. Hers had a metal pin on it, pierced straight through the nipple itself.
"Ah, I see. Then... are the panties below part of the uniform too?"
With her answering so graciously, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I found myself asking whatever else came to mind. The panties, now showing a little more, were black cotton—ordinary except for how narrow they were. Wrapped around that thick mound, the fabric looked quite substantial.
"Yes, they are. Allow me to show you in detail."
Before I could say a word, the woman lifted her skirt and showed me the entire pair of panties. As I'd expected, the panel across the center was narrow, the sides in string form. Then she turned around to show me the back—it was a thong with the whole of her ass bare, the string buried between her cheeks, invisible except where it vanished into her crack. Her springy, lifted ass looked positively succulent.
Turning back to face me, she went on.
"We're meant to wear pretty lingerie for the Omniscients' eyes, but given that our duties require standing all day, we wear thick cotton panties instead. This is to prevent the juices flowing from our aroused pussies from overflowing and soiling the floor. I ask for your kind understanding."
Listening to her explanation, delivered with a slight bow of the head, my lips felt dry for no reason at all, and I flicked my tongue across them. Every instinct told me this woman would accept whatever I chose to do to her right now. A stunning receptionist who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, dressed obscenely, ready to submit to my commands—no man alive could afford to let such a moment slip away.
"Miss Park Da-gyeong, then... are your panties wet right now?"
I asked, reading the name off her tag. Outside, that question would have gotten me hauled off for sexual harassment; Da-gyeong simply kept her smile.
"Yes, sir. My panties are soaked through with the juices that have been flowing without pause from my lewd pussy since this morning. I'm meant to change them when my morning shift ends, and frankly I'm worried whether they'll hold out until then."
"They look fine from here. Would you mind if I checked for myself?"
"Of course not. Then I'll step out for a moment."
Da-gyeong came out through the passage on the right side of the round desk and stood before me. She'd left the hiked-up skirt exactly as it was while walking, so it had ridden up even further, now no more than a thick band around her waist. Standing in front of me, Da-gyeong spread her legs to shoulder width.
"I'll take them down and show you."
"One moment—I'd like to take them down myself."
Seeing Miss Park Da-gyeong reach for her panties, I raised a hand and hurried to speak. At my words she drew back the hands she'd set on the waistband and folded them once more in front of her belly. That, I supposed, was the receptionists' default posture.
I swallowed hard, stepped closer to Da-gyeong, and crouched down, reaching out with both hands to grip the sides of her panties. My fingertips brushed her bare skin and I flinched, but Da-gyeong didn't so much as stir. I slipped my fingers beneath the string and hooked it, then slowly drew it downward. Since she wore her panties outside the garter belt, nothing caught as they came down.
Bringing my face close to the panties as they turned inside out on their way down, I caught the scent of laundered cotton laced with a faint fishy musk. As they slid lower, the smell of pussy grew stronger. First came her neatly groomed pubic hair, grown only above the mound—everything below was perfectly smooth. Next appeared her erect clitoris, its hood peeled back, standing stiff and bared like a cornelian cherry. Below it, the inner lips poked out in a clumped cluster beside the plump outer lips. Drops of juice beaded on the inner lips, webbing between flesh and panties like spider silk. When I drew the panties down past her crotch, I could take in the soaked pussy and the soiled fabric in full detail. Where her pussy pressed against the cloth, the juices had dried into pale stains, and above them fresh wetness, not yet dried, had soaked in abundantly.
"Shall I spread my pussy so you can see it in detail?"
"Uh? Uh, sure."
Her pretty, immaculately kept hands came down, gripped the outer lips, and pulled them apart. The clumped inner lips spread open, revealing the urethra and the entrance beneath. Though the lips parted, her juices stayed strung between the two sides for a moment before slowly dripping down.
"Ahhn~"
As I stared at her pussy, a soft moan reached my ears. Along with the moan, the pussy twitched, and a blob of nectar pushed its way out.
"Don't tell me you get off just from being looked at?"
"Ahhn~ I'm sorry, sir. My shameless little pussy gets excited and leaks juice from being displayed alone."
"Mmgh~"
I brought my nose even closer and inhaled her scent deeply, then gave her clitoris a light brush with my finger.
"Aah~"
Even that slight touch sent another surge of juice sloshing out of her pussy.
-Sluurp~
"Haaahn~~"
Unable to hold back any longer, I covered her pussy with my mouth and sucked. Da-gyeong's moans grew louder still—loud enough now for everyone nearby to hear.
"Tch. And here I wanted to properly savor your juice."
I pulled my mouth away and said it, glancing around. Even with what I was doing, the people nearby paid no mind, going about their business. Still, in a bright open space with sightlines running in every direction, I didn't have the nerve to go any further.
"Ahhn~ If you would do me the honor of enjoying my pussy, sir, you may use the rest area nearby."
"Rest area?"
As I stood and asked, Da-gyeong pointed to one side with both hands.
"A rest area is a facility fitted with a bed and simple shower amenities. There are ones all throughout the Garden, so please use them at your leisure."
Where Da-gyeong pointed, a bed pictograph had been drawn beside the restroom sign.
"You're on shift, though. Is that really all right?"
"During my shift, attending to your sexual needs, sir, is my highest priority."
"Is that so? Then let's go."
I took Da-gyeong by the wrist and led her toward the rest area. With her skirt still hiked up and her panties still down, her pussy left bare, Da-gyeong was dragged along, her juices trailing and dripping the whole way.