The look in Sarah’s eyes when Lachlan told her she’d been caught in another misdemeanour was wonderful. It was a mixture of fear, anxiety, panic, desperation and guilt – but what was best of all was the acknowledgement that she was at his mercy, that something terrible was going to happen to her and that she was absolutely powerless to stop it.
“Trying to circumvent administrator restrictions on your work computer is serious misbehaviour, Sarah,” he told her. “Not as serious as your embezzlement, but…”
She whimpered. She wanted to ask him to make this slow hypnotic surrender of her identity stop – but he had already told her that it would not – could not – because he had no power to reverse the hypnotic programming she had been given.
He passed her a piece of paper. “Here’s the list, Sarah. What are you giving up?”
She stared at the list of 25 options.
- Your bladder
- Your body shape
- Your career
- Your comfort
- Your diet
- Your emotions
- Your ethics
- Your family
- Your finances
- Your friends
- Your heart
- Your history and life story
- Your intelligence
Your interests and hobbies
- Your name
- Your opinions
- Your possessions
- Your privacy
- Your reproductive system
- Your sexuality
- Your style
- Your vocabulary
- Your willpower
“Hobbies”, “Transport” and “Workplace” were crossed off the list, Sarah had already surrendered them.
Sarah stared at the list, unable to choose, but knowing that she *would* choose – or else the Securo-System conditioning would choose for her.
Lachlan imagined what was going through her mind. She appeared to be most terrified of losing her identity – of losing track of what made her *her* – and so she would likely avoid choosing her life story, or her intelligence, or her ethics, or her name, or her heart, or her opinions.
She would also still be trying to plan a way to get out of this ongoing humiliation, and so she would try to avoid choosing items that would limit her ability to fight back – such as surrendering her willpower, her privacy, her finances, or her possessions.
And she still thought that she *would* get out of this – or at least that she would avoid surrendering everything on the list – and so she would avoid options that implied permanent and/or irreversible changes to her life, such as surrendering her body shape, her career, or her reproductive system.
She probably didn’t know what surrendering her family or friends would mean – but she was likely scared to find out.
That didn’t leave her with many options – and they all sounded either humiliating or painful. But she had to choose one.
“My diet,” she said, finally. She sighed. “I suppose I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway.”
Lachlan did *not* think Sarah needed to lose weight – she was fine the way she was – and that wasn’t what he intended to do with this newly surrendered item. But what she had said gave him pause.
“You haven’t ever had an eating disorder, have you?” he asked her.
She laughed. “Oh, no, nothing like that.” And the tone of her voice reassured him that she was, in fact, telling the truth.
Which was good. The last thing he wanted to do was trigger a health issue that might upset his other plans.
“Very well,” he told her. “Go have a time out for being a naughty girl with your computer, and I’ll go get your new diet ready for you.”
She pouted – but obediently went to sit at her plastic children’s table, and started arranging coloured building blocks.
Sarah certainly would have been happier if her new diet plan had merely been aimed at losing weight. What Lachlan prepared was – at least in Sarah’s opinion – much, much worse.
She knew it was going to be terrible when Lachlan returned to her office carrying not just a sheet of colourful laminated paper, but also a pink plastic dog bowl, which had “SARAH” written on the side in white letters.
“No,” said Sarah. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” said Lachlan. “In fact, you know I want you to eat out of this bowl, and therefore you’re eager to do it, aren’t you?”
She was. She had surrendered control of her diet. Lachlan made the decisions around her eating now. He could see the resistance draining away behind her eyes.
She nodded, unhappily.
“Good girl,” he said. “Here’s your diet plan. It’s a bit simple for now but we can always edit it later if the need arises.”
He passed her the laminated sheet.
1 x handful of dry cat food
Use “Purrfect Pet” brand – edible for humans and contains all the nutrients a pretty pet needs for a glossy coat!
1 x large cucumber (well washed)
Fuck yourself with it until you’re about to cum, then eat it.
Whatever you choose…
… but flavour it with one condom of sperm, and make sure to eat it all!
Send Sir a video of you eating it, and make sure to tell him where you got the sperm!
Be a good kitten and eat your breakfast and dinner out of the bowl!
The bowl should be on the ground, and Sarah should be on all fours. No using your hands or utensils!
No cheating – you must eat everything on the list, at the correct time of day, and eat nothing else in between. (Prescribed medication or extra sperm are okay.)
Stay hydrated – drink at least 4.5 litres of water per day!
Sarah is a messy girl! When eating at home, remove ALL clothes before eating, so you don’t get food on them!
Sarah looked like she might cry as she read the sheet.
“I can’t eat cat food,” she told him, her eyes shimmering through a haze of incipient tears.
“I assure you that you can,” he told her. “Or at least, this brand you can. I’ve done the research. A handful is barely anything, anyway. We need to keep you nice and hungry for your lunchtime cunt-cucumber, and by dinner-time you should be desperate to eat something cum-flavoured.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she objected. “Where am I supposed to get sperm?”
“That’s up to you,” he told her. “But if you get stuck, I’m happy to help.”
She said nothing for a moment, and she realised she was thinking – testing her mind to see if her programming *required* her to ask for his sperm. It didn’t.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thanks anyway.”
“If you say so,” he laughed. “Oh, and I brought you this as a present.”
He passed her a cucumber – the largest he had been able to find at the supermarket.
“Enjoy,” he said.
At lunchtime, Sarah closed her office door.
Once again, Lachlan would have liked to watch her humiliation – but there would be plenty of chances for that later. For now, he could simply picture what she was going through – because he knew she was powerless to do anything else.
She would be staring at that cucumber, wanting to ignore it, but knowing that she *was* going to eat it, in exactly the way that Lachlan had specified, and there was nothing she could do to avoid that fate.
Despite her most fervent wishes, her hand would reach out and take the cucumber, and she would become suddenly aware of her pussy.
Would she pull down her panties? Or just push them to one side? Probably just push them to one side, instinctively thinking it would be easier to conceal her activity that way if someone caught her. She wouldn’t yet realise that that was a false instinct – that she *had* to prepare her lunch, and so while she might be able to delay her masturbation briefly, she would ultimately have to resume, even if someone was right there in her office staring at her.
She would bring the cucumber to her cunt, and press it against her pussy lips. Would she be wet for it? Lachlan thought so. There was nothing in the hypnosis that would guarantee that fucking a vegetable made her wet – but Lachlan believed that Sarah Rose truly was a slut at heart, and that the sheer humiliation of what she was doing would make her pussy embarrassingly eager to be penetrated.
She would fuck herself quickly. The longer this took, the more chance there was of being caught. She needed to keep masturbating until she was ready to cum – and so she would genuinely do her best to reach that state, thinking of whatever slutty erotic ideas would get her there fastest.
And when she reached the edge of orgasm, she would pull out, and stop. She would take a small knife from her desk and slice the cucumber into small parts. She would put them in her new pink pet bowl. Then she would get out of her chair, place the bowl on the ground, get down on all fours, and eat the slices of cunt-flavoured cucumber like an animal.
And would she finger her cunt as she ate? Lachlan didn’t know. He had wanted to tell her that after edging, she wasn’t allowed to cum without permission until dinner, but that was pushing the limits of “controlling her diet”, and he didn’t want to give her any command that she would be able to disobey. So she *would* be able to reach her orgasm, once she had pulled the cucumber out of her pussy and prepared it. And he genuinely couldn’t guess whether she would masturbate at work without being forced to, or instead remain horny and unsatisfied all afternoon.
Whatever she did, it took her about a half hour. Then she opened her office door again. She gave no sign that she had just fucked herself with a vegetable in the workplace, and refused to give Lachlan the satisfaction of talking about it. She simply returned to work, struggling with her frustrating new computer setup.
In the afternoon, Lachlan had his weekly “Men’s Leadership Group” meeting. It was a small catch-up he had arranged with a few of the other men who worked in or adjacent to the Department of Women, theoretically to share mentoring advice and career support.
In reality, they used it to bitch about the women they worked with.
“What’s going on with Sarah Rose?” asked Trent Halmer. Trent was a senior executive in project management, twenty years older than Sarah Rose and forever resentful that he had been passed over for promotion in favour of a younger woman. (Although Lachlan didn’t know what he had expected, given the nature of their department.)
“What do you mean?” asked Cameron. He was a younger guy, near the start of his career, who was mostly responsible for going out into schools or workplaces to liaise on policy implementation. He wasn’t in the office much, and hadn’t seen the changes to Sarah’s office.
“She’s gone pink,” said Trent. “All her office stuff is pink – and her car, too! The licence plate says ‘BIMBO’.”
Lachlan laughed. He had considered telling these men exactly what he was doing to Sarah – but he didn’t trust them quite that far. And nor did he want to share his control over her – at least, not just yet. But he could still share his enjoyment with them.
“Some women just have a bimbo era,” he said. “They spend their whole lives deliberately avoiding things they might enjoy because they feel it’s anti-feminist – and then they get a taste of it, and they go all in. Particularly if they weren’t very smart to start with. I guess Sarah just discovered that being a pretty pink princess can feel really good.”
“With tits like hers, I’m surprised she didn’t realise it sooner,” said Vivaan. His rich English accent was a reminder of his doctorate in economics, which had landed him his role at the head of Finance, but he still held the conservative values of his Indian parents, and firmly believed that a woman’s place was in the kitchen and the bedroom. (Although he was wise enough to not widely express those thoughts while working at the Department of Women.)
There was laughter at Vivaan’s statement.
“If she keeps going down this path, there’ll be questions,” said Trent. “The Secretary of the Department of Women can’t be a bimbo. The optics are… problematic. She could be fired.”
“You sound like you want her to be fired, Trent,” said Lachlan. “But you know you wouldn’t get her job, right? A man is never going to be the Secretary of the Department of Women.”
Trent made a grunting sound of reluctant acknowledgement.
“We should really be trying to cover for her,” Lachlan continued. “After all, we’d rather have a bimbo for a boss than a bitch, right?”
And, reluctantly, the other men agreed that they would.
When Sarah went home that evening, Lachlan wondered if he would get a call for help from her. After she drove home in her pink bimbo car with the dildo in her pussy, she would watch her mandatory rape porn, and then she would turn her thoughts to the concept of dinner.
And to make dinner, she would need some sperm.
But to his surprise, it wasn’t until nearly 10 pm that he received a message on his phone. And when he did, it was a video of Sarah eating dinner.
It had been recorded with her phone in a position propped up on the ground, and it showed her naked, on all fours approaching her bowl. He could see her beautiful tits swinging beneath her as she crawled. She was crying with humiliation, and that just made her prettier.
As she reached the bowl, she reached out and picked up the phone, and used it to show the bowl contents. It was a piece of cooked chicken schnitzel, chopped into chunks, with a visible glaze of sticky white liquid on it.
“Are you happy?” Sarah demanded, in a furious, humiliated voice. “I didn’t want to do it, but I just kept getting hungrier and hungrier, and my thoughts just kept fixating on having dinner, until I couldn’t think of anything else. I went to my neighbour’s house and asked if I could jerk him off into a condom. I didn’t undress or anything, but now he thinks I’m a complete slut. That’s his cum on the food. Okay?”
It was a pre-recorded video. Lachlan didn’t have to answer. He just stroked his own cock as he watched Sarah’s degradation.
Still crying, she put the phone back on the ground, and the leaned forward and began to eat the cum-flavoured schnitzel from her bowl.
She was clearly doing her best to get through the ordeal. And that just amused Lachlan more. Because she was acting like this was a one-time thing, and that when she finished eating the spermy chicken it would all be over.
But it wouldn’t be. Because she was going to do it again tomorrow. And the day after. And for as long as he wanted it to continue.
And that was the least of her problems.
Because she had just sent a nude video of herself to a co-worker. And he was pretty sure that was a breach of the employee code of conduct, whether done consensually or otherwise – and therefore Sarah was soon going to have to surrender something new.