Emma’s Division is a sequel to Emma’s Policy, which you can now buy in e-book format for only $3.99 USD! Purchases fund the creation of new, free content. (Click here to view.)

Previous parts:
| Two | Three


There were two men in Tim Bolland’s office. Bunny assumed the one behind the desk was Tim. The other was a large man, with a salt-and-pepper beard, who was telling a ribald story punctuated by frequent chuckling.

“You should have seen her struggle,” the man was laughing. “Big tits flopping around everywhere, making these girly useless slaps at me. She sounded pathetic – ‘Please, no, sir!’ But damn, if her pussy wasn’t soaking wet for my cock despite everything.”

Tim chuckled. “You know these sluts,” he said. “They say one thing, but when their legs get spread, they’re ready to go.”

“She made these little piggy sounds as I fucked her,” said the bearded man. “Oink! Oink! She’s fucking ridiculous. And then after I jizzed inside her, I used a folder clip to clamp her pussy lips shut, to help her get pregnant.”

“Damn, Dave,” said Tim. “Do you want a baby with this bitch?”

The bearded man – Dave – laughed again. “No, she can tell her husband it’s his, or that she works as a whore after hours, or whatever. Pregnancy is her problem, not mine, right?”

Neither of the men had shown any awareness of Bunny’s presence. She was standing awkwardly near the entrance to the room. She coughed, discreetly. They still ignored her.

“So tell me about your productivity stats,” said Tim.

Dave wiggled his hand. “So-so,” he said. “It’s those damn bitches letting us down. Too many toilet breaks. If you want my advice, HR should just close the women’s toilets, put a litter box on every floor. If the bitches have to piss in public, they’ll take less breaks, and be faster when they do.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Tim. “I’m not sure we’re quite ready for it yet – but soon. I’ll get Sugar-Tits to do some preparatory work on it.”

Bunny coughed again. They still ignored her.

Their conversation turned towards recent sports scores. Neither men showed the slightest sign of finishing their discussion, or acknowledging Bunny’s existence. Bunny felt more embarrassed and awkward with every second. She looked at the door – still standing open from where she had come through – and felt an irrational surge of guilt. She had *known* she should use the pet door, and she hadn’t, and now everything was wrong.

The conversation continued.

Finally, Bunny scampered back outside the office door, closed it – and then crawled back in on all fours, through the pet door.

She got a response immediately. “Ah!” said Tim, standing to get a look at her. “This must be Fuckbunny Penrose, our new Female Resources hire.”

Dave looked at her too, and grunted. “Nice tits on her,” he said. “She has potential.”

“What brings you to my office, Fuckbunny?” asked Tim.

“The employee evaluation you asked for, sir,” said Bunny, passing him the printouts. She blushed a bit, saying “sir”, but it was clearly called for, given how much deference everyone seemed to show to this man.

“I should get back to work,” said Dave, and rose, leaving through the door behind Emma. Meanwhile, Tim paged through the document Bunny had provided him – and as he did so, his smile changed into a frown.

“What the fuck is this?” he said, finally.

Bunny shifted nervously. “The employee evaluation…” she said.

“I asked for the women to be sorted by the quality of their tits,” said Tim. “And yet you’ve got Lana Curran in the top five percent. She’s got an A-cup, Fuckbunny. She hasn’t posed topless for the company, she hasn’t changed her name, and she’s got two records of complaining about sexual harassment on her file. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just…” began Bunny. She was beginning to realise that her little act of rebellion was neither little, nor wise.

“There’s only two reasons I can think of for you bringing me a document this useless, Fuckbunny,” said Tim. “Either you deliberately disobeyed my instructions – or it’s just that all women are stupid cunts, including you. Which is it?”

Bunny’s mouth fell open. She didn’t know what to say.

“I asked you a question, Fuckbunny,” said Tim. He was standing now, and he looked angry. “Did you deliberately disobey my instructions, or are all women stupid cunts, including you?”

She wanted to cry. She *had* been stupid to complete the task in the way that she had. And now she was going to get fired, probably. She would *certainly* get fired if she said she had been disobedient.

“All women are stupid cunts, sir,” she said, in a small voice. “Including me.” She felt like a traitor as she said it – a traitor to her values, to her mother, to herself. But she couldn’t get fired. Not like this.

“Now, there’s two ways we can handle this fuckup, Bunny,” said Tim. “The first is that I can fire you. Do you want that?”

“No!” exclaimed Bunny. She definitely didn’t want that.

“And the second is that we can discipline you,” said Tim. “You can ask me to slap you, and spank you, and then you can go back and do the list properly.”

“Ask you to…” Bunny trailed off. She wanted to say she didn’t understand – but she did understand. She just didn’t want to.

“You heard me,” said Tim. “I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.”

Bunny dithered, and shifted awkwardly on her feet. She couldn’t believe she was in this position. She couldn’t believe what this man wanted her to do. She should just quit, she knew – leave, and retain her dignity, and find someplace to work that wasn’t a misogynistic hellhole.

But she would be doing it in poverty. The terms of her trust fund were clear. If she made a sexual harassment complaint, or left a job over sexual harassment, or got fired, the money that paid for her house would vanish overnight. 

“Please, sir,” said Bunny quietly. “Could you slap me, and spank me, and give me another chance?”

Tim nodded – and then, before Bunny could prepare, his hand lashed out and slapped her hard across the face. Bunny squeaked, and fell to her knees, clutching her face – but Tim’s hand was already reaching down and seizing a handful of her hair. He pulled, and Bunny had no choice but to be dragged to his office chair. Tim sat, and then he pulled Bunny up and over his lap, ass up, as though she were a child.

“No – wait – “ began Bunny – but Tim ignored her. He flipped up her business skirt – and then smoothly pulled her panties down her legs, to her knees. Bunny squeaked again. Her ass was fully exposed to Tim’s gaze – and her pussy too!

“Keep telling me you’re a stupid cunt,” said Tim. “You can take your time with it – but the spanking will continue until I believe you.”

And then he began to beat her ass with his hand.

She had expected that it would hurt – but at first, it didn’t. Instead, it was a solid, almost pleasant thud, that vibrated through her ass and into her groin. He struck again, and again, each time sending that pleasant wave through her ass and pussy – and she felt herself beginning to grow wet again. Just like she had that morning in the elevator, being molested.

She blushed. Why was her pussy acting like she was a slut? Why couldn’t it just behave itself?

The blows came again and again, across both ass cheeks, and she felt herself beginning to descend into a pleasant space where the only sensations were the warmth in her buttocks and the wetness in her cunt. She forgot what Tim had told her to do, and instead, the only sound she made was a slutty moan.

But eventually Tim stopped using his hand. “I think you’re warmed up enough,” he said – and took out a long, black leather implement. He brought this down over Bunny’s ass – and Bunny shrieked. It hurt! It stung!

WHACK! It struck her again, and she began writhing desperately, trying to get away. Tim had a firm hold on her, though. WHACK! WHACK!

She felt herself starting to cry. This implement was agonising – and yet, her cunt was still wet, and getting wetter. A part of her wanted this pain – but the larger part really, really did not.

“Stop!” she wailed “Please stop!”

“You know how to make it stop,” growled Tim. WHACK. WHACK.

“I’m a dumb cunt!” said Bunny hurriedly. “I’m a stupid dumb cunt. I’m so stupid. Please, sir, I’m a stupid cunt.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Tim, and continued to brutalise her ass. She felt sure she must be bruising – and meanwhile her pussy was so wet, she was sure she was leaving a wet patch on Tim’s trousers.

“Women are dumb cunts,” wailed Bunny. “We’re stupid bimbos. I’m just a dumb bitch. Please sir, I’m sorry I’m so stupid. I’m sorry I’m so dumb. Please. Please.”


“I’m just a stupid woman,” gasped Bunny. She could barely think straight, through the pain and arousal. “I’m a cunt. I’m a dumb cunt. Please, sir, I’m so sorry I’m a stupid woman.”

And at that, Tim finally took mercy. He raised the leather paddle – but rather than strike her with it, he instead pushed the handle against Bunny’s exposed pussy. She felt it slip into her well-lubricated fuckhole, and gasped with surprise and violation. Tim pumped it into her cunt once, twice – and on the third stroke, Bunny felt herself orgasming, powerfully, violently.

And for a moment, it all came together for her. Here she was cumming on a strange man’s lap from being abused, violated, and treated like a child. She *was* a dumb cunt. It was the only way this made sense.

And then the orgasm was over, the slutty brain chemicals washed out of her brain, and she was left with nothing but shame and guilt.

Tim pulled the panties off her legs. “I’m keeping these,” he said. “Now, let’s walk you back to your desk.”

He led the blushing, flushed Bunny back to the elevator, then down to level 7, and the Female Resources department. When they arrived, he walked over to the board that tracked the standings of the female “factions” – and deducted 15 points from the Bunnies, bringing them down to 525.

“Bunny here has been disappointing,” Tim said simply.

Pumpkin was staring at Bunny with wide eyes from her workstation. Bunny could feel the raw hatred radiating off her. “You stupid *cunt*,’ the woman hissed quietly – and Bunny found it hard to disagree, seeing as she had been saying the same thing about herself only minutes before.

“I want the proper version of that list,” said Tim, to Bunny. “Don’t go home until I’ve seen it.” And then he left, returning to his office.

Bunny went to sit at her desk, avoiding eye contact – but as soon as her butt touched the seat, she yelped. Tim *had* bruised her – badly – and it would be hard for her to sit on *anything*, let alone the spiky texture of the chair.

She thought about standing at the desk – but it wasn’t quite high enough for her to do that without hurting her back.

She looked around at the other women, kneeling at their demeaning primary-school desks – and, with a sigh, she picked out an empty one, and knelt in front of it.

She turned on the computer. “My name is Fuckbunny Penrose,” she told the verification screen, reciting the vocal password that Emma had given her. “I deserve to be raped.”

And right now, kneeling like a child, her pussy wet, her ass sore, the memory of calling herself a dumb slut looping in her brain – she felt like those words might actually be true.


If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy my e-book A Woman’s Work – Stories of Workplace Degradation, available for only $3.99 USD from my creator site. I rely on your purchases to continue creating new content! (Click here to view.)


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