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Walking Alison to her office and unlocking the door didn’t take long. Once she was inside, he said, “Give me your skirt.”

“Why?” she said.

His face darkened. “I thought you actually wanted my help,” he said. “But I can start that investigation if you want.”

“No!” she squealed. “I’m sorry!” And she took off her skirt and handed it to him, standing blushing, bare cunted, in the middle of her office.

He smiled. She really did need to learn not to question his orders.

“Take a seat,” he said. “No one wants to see your disgusting cunt, Alison.”

She hurried, mortified, to her tortuously cruel office chair, and sat, feeling the bumps in the seat immediately press into her pussy and anus.

“You have a lot of work to catch up from yesterday,” he said. “I don’t want you leaving your seat for the rest of the day, and this should keep you in place. You can have it back at the end of the day.”

Then he reached down and scooped up her handbag. “I’ll look after this, too,” he said.

Then he left her there, trapped, with no phone, wallet, keys, or clothes below her waist. He locked the office door on the way out, which was doing her a favour, really, as she wouldn’t want anyone walking in on her like that.

Once he was down the corridor, he got out his phone and dialled Harry Bentham – one of the men who had humiliated Alison at the meeting yesterday.

“Get Dave, Vijay and Nikki from reception, and meet me in the parking lot,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”

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Nikki was blonde, with big fake tits, and she was one of Ciaran’s favourite people at the company. She was a bimbo, through and through. She *liked* being patronised by men. She thrilled at being groped and ogled and called pet names. The days when someone dragged her into the toilets or the supply room to fuck her without asking for her consent were the best days of her week.

When Ciaran had mentioned to her that he wanted to get revenge on the new “workplace culture” bitch, she had practically creamed her panties with eagerness to help. It was Nikki who had spilled water on Alison on her first day, and she had been bugging Ciaran for updates on the project ever since.

She was driving the men now to their destination – Alison’s house.

“Oh my god,” giggled Nikki. “That video! When you mad her show you her cunt in the meeting room! I got so wet! She’s such a silly bitch!”

There was laughter among the men.

“Okay, everyone,” said Ciaran, getting serious. “I’ve got the keys to Alison’s house. When we get there, I’ll open the doors, and we’re going to prioritise finding any other keys, remotes, or access devices in the house. Dave is going to take those away in the car and have copies made for each of us.”

Dave saluted sarcastically.

“Then Nikki, you’re on wardrobe. Vijay, you’re doing the cameras. And Harry, you’re going to work on the electricals. I’m going to search for intelligence.”

Alison’s house was a small but expensive two-bedroom place in the suburbs, tastefully decorated in shades of blue and grey. Frames on the wall displayed Alison’s educational credentials, along with photos of her with her role models, such as feminist icon Regina Swift. A display cabinet held awards and trophies, including the “Swift Award For Feminism In Business” – a silver statuette in the shape of a standing woman.

“All right, everyone,” said Ciaran. “Get to it.”

And they did.

Vijay’s job was simple. He was installing discreet cameras and surveillance devices throughout the house, to give them a clear view of every aspect of Alison’s life – her bedroom, her shower, her toilet, and everywhere else. He would put monitoring programs on home computer. He would also create a secret panel in the wall in the lounge, and hide within it a medium-sized packet of cocaine and a hard drive of illegal kiddie porn – just further insurance, in case Ciaran ever wanted to have Alison raided by police.

Nikki was working over Alison’s wardrobe. She started with a quick inventory of Alison’s underwear, confiscating anything that she thought was insufficiently sexy. She couldn’t go overboard – Alison would notice if too much was gone – but she could limit Alison’s choices. Then she went to work on the rest of the clothes. For some dresses and skirts, she altered the hemline, making them subtly shorter and slightly inappropriate. Other clothes she took in, making them tighter and smaller, with the intention of making Alison insecure about her body and her weight. For most of the clothes, she simply weakened the stitching, making 80% of Alison’s wardrobe liable to rip or fall off her in the middle of the day. She couldn’t finish all the work in a single day, but with the key copies, Nikki would be able to return every day that Alison was at work – and do the same alterations on any new clothes that Alison bought.

Harry went to work on Alison’s electrical appliances, with the aim of sabotage. He was a skilled electrician, and knew how to damage everything in the house so that it wouldn’t start a fire or hurt Alison – but it *would* almost certainly fail within the next month. Alison would soon find that all her household appliances were breaking on her, requiring expensive repairs or replacements, reinforcing the feeling that she wasn’t managing her life, and putting strain on her finances.

He also did some work on her toilet – making it likely to frequently block or back up – and her water piping – priming it to burst.

Ciaran did everything else. He examined her medicine cabinet – nothing surprising there. He replaced her birth control pills – both in her handbag and in her cabinet – with a different but similar-looking drug, a variant of Rohypnol that would make her stupider and more suggestible. He went through her documents and papers, taking photographs of anything he might use to impersonate her identity or otherwise embarrass her. He located with amusement Alison’s vibrators – a Hitachi massage wand, and a surprisingly large internal dildo – but had no immediate use for them.

He found her photo albums, which showed her as a gangly and insecure – but still attractive – teen, and took copies of those too, more on the principle that Alison deserved no privacy than for any real use for them.

When Dave returned with the key copies, they all gathered in Alison’s lounge room on the sofa, and Ciaran played a video on the large TV screen that he was calling “Best of Workplace Whores”. It was a mix tape of Ella’s abuse and rape, several other girls that the men had molested in the last year, and video of Alison masturbating in her office and exposing herself in the meeting room.

The men unzipped their pants and began to masturbate to the video. Nikki undressed, exposing her slutty bimbo body, and crawled on the floor in front of the men, alternately masturbating and licking their cocks. She mewled kittenishly several times – the noise she tended to make when she wanted her pussy fucked – but the men ignored her, focusing on the video. Dave eventually grabbed her hair and pulled her head back down to his cock, where it belonged.

Ciaran had brought several large beer steins from Alison’s kitchen, and as each of the men reached orgasm, they ejaculated into one of those steins. Nicole then brought Alison’s remaining panties out from the bedroom. The men each wiped their cocks clean on a different pair of Alison’s underwear, then Nikki lay on the floor and pushed the entire wad of panties up into her spread cunt. 

She had done this display before – at Dave’s buck’s night, in fact – and the men knew what to do next. They stood, and took turns kicking Nikki in the cunt with their shoes, until she orgasmed. When it came to Nikki, the more objectified and demeaned and in pain she felt, the harder she came.

Then Nikki pulled the panties out of her cunt and put them back in Alison’s underwear drawer, soaked with her pussy juices and bearing traces of the men’s cum.

The remaining steins were then filled with the men’s piss – and Nikki’s – as they emptied their bladders into them. This was in preparation for the final work. They went to Alison’s kitchen and looked in her fridge and cupboard. Every time they found an item of food with a milky or white complexion – mayonnaise, milk, yoghurt, pasta sauce – they opened in, and stirred in a generous helping of their sperm from the steins. 

Once the sperm was mostly distributed, they opened the remainder of Alison’s liquids – soda bottles, fruit juices, and so forth – and tipped piss into them.

There was still a little piss and cum left when they were done, but Nikki had an idea. She went to Alison’s bathroom, opened the bottom of her tube of toothpaste, and squeezed most of the toothpaste into the sink. Then she refilled the tube using the remainder of the cum. Ciaran was fairly certain that between the Rohypnol-like drugs he had replaced her birth control with, and the effects of the hypnosis, Alison might not notice she was brushing her teeth with cum every day.

Likewise, Nikki tipped out Alison’s green antiseptic mouthwash, and filled the bottle with piss instead. A little green food colouring made it look almost exactly the same.

Ciaran had some worry that Alison might be freaked out enough by one of their alterations to the house to snap out of her haze and do something that would spoil his plans for her. But he didn’t think it was likely. And in a worst case scenario, he could just cash in all the leverage he already had on her, and likely destroy her life, her career, and send her to jail.

And as they left the house, laughing, Alison had no idea that any of this was happening. She was sitting locked in her office, naked from the waist down, spacing out every time her wristwatch flashed pink, absorbing its hypnotic messages, looking at the footage of Ella’s rape, and masturbating.

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