Previous parts:
 | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | 
Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen


Bunny was naked but for her high heels, and bent over the large central table of Meeting Room B. Eric Elton from procurement was standing behind her, his hands on her hips, and his cock balls-deep in her pussy, as he vigorously raped her.

This was Bunny’s scheduled 12 noon breeding session, and Eric was doing Bunny the “favour” of attempting to put a rape-baby in her womb to fulfil her role as a “good little breeding bunny”. 

Bunny was still having trouble reconciling the violation of being raped and the fear of impregnation with the feelings of addictive pleasure coming from her wet little sluthole every time Eric jammed his cock into her. But she knew the best option was to not think, just feel, and let her pussy make her decisions for her.

Luckily, she had something to take her mind off her rape. Emma had made it clear to Bunny that her new breeding program shouldn’t detract from her overall office productivity, and that she was to find ways to be helpful around the office while being bred. She had mentioned this to Eric, and he had obligingly brought a range of stationery products to the meeting room for Bunny to test as she was being fucked.

“We’re doing a new procurement on a range of these items,” Eric had told her. “So I need to know which ones work best. Test them on your tits as I fuck you.”

The first box Eric had given her contained a range of stamps, of both the self-inking sort and the variety that needed to be dipped in an inkpad. Each of these samples bore the word “SLUT”, “COW” or “BIMBO”.

Bunny tried to gingerly stamp the word “SLUT” onto her left udder as Eric fucked her, but the movement of her body with each thrust left nothing but a blurred mess of ink on her titflesh.

“That’s not how we use stamps,” Eric told her as he raped her. “You need to really smash it down there. We sometimes stamp dozens of documents a minute.”

Bunny used a tissue to wipe the ink off her breast, and then tried again. Her breast was flat against the surface of the table, and she literally punched her boob with the stamp. She squealed at the sudden burst of pain – but now the word “SLUT” was clearly stamped in purple ink on her bosom. 

“Good girl,” said Eric, his cock pushing deeper into her fucktunnel. “Now test the rest.”

There were over 20 stamps in the box, and each one required Bunny to punch herself in the breast with it, marking her with the words “COW” or “SLUT” or “BIMBO”. She found the tit pain perversely made the rape more enjoyable. 

In the end she decided that a self-inking stamp that read “BIMBO” was the most reliably effective of the set, and she passed this back to Eric, who used it to stamp both of her ass cheeks.

Next were document clips. Eric provided her with no instruction on how to test these, but she intuited that if she disappointed him in her testing method that there would be consequences – and in any case she knew exactly how Tim would want her to test them.

She tested the clips in pairs, clamping one on each of her nipples. They ranged in grip strength – the weakest were nothing more than a light pressure on her tits, while the most powerful were so agonising she feared they may crush her titflesh permanently. Then, once they were on, she began to slap at her breasts with her hands, to determine how easily the clips could be dislodged.

Again, the breast pain only served to make her rape more arousing, and she felt her brain going foggy with the stupidity of lust. When she found the most powerful and reliable clamp, she passed it back to Eric – who promptly clipped it onto Bunny’s clitoris. She had to stuff her fist into her mouth to stifle her scream of excruciating pain – but at the same time she also felt herself orgasming powerfully around Eric’s cock, her body shuddering, the muscles in her legs trembling with sudden weakness.

But Eric wasn’t done yet, and there was more stationery to test.

There were elastic bands to test. These went around the base of her tits, constricting them and making them bulge lewdly. There were pens to test, and at this point she was barely thinking, so she just let her cunt decide what to write, and the words it chose to scrawl on her tits were slut-babble such as “I’m a dumb bimbo”, and “I deserve rape”.

And there were staplers. And testing these on her tits was hardest of all. The staples were small, and didn’t even draw blood. She felt little more than stinging pinpricks in her tits as she pushed the stapler into her udders to discharge the staples. But the knowledge that she was doing something so perverse – stapling her own tits, just because a man had implied that she should – flicked some final degradation switch in her brain, and she found herself cumming again.

And this time Eric was cumming too, filling her with his sperm, possibly impregnating her. She thought about bearing a baby to term, and raising a child, knowing for all its life that it had been conceived as she was stamping “BIMBO” on her tits and firing staples into them to make herself more enjoyable to rape for a man she barely knew. 

She didn’t want to think about it. She concentrated on her cunt feelings – and they told her to turn around and lick her rapist’s cock clean and thank him for raping her. If she was lucky, he would give her permission to take the elastic bands off her tits and the clip off her clitoris.

She *was* lucky. He *did* remove the stationery – but then the clamp went right back on her pussy lips, to trap his sperm inside her. 

And he gave her a “BIMBO” stamp and a “SLUT” stamp to take back to her desk with her, so she could stamp her tits with them each morning.


If you’re enjoying this story, you’ll love my e-book Office Nights – Stories of Workplace Submission, available for only $3.99 USD from my creator site! Your purchase lets me pay the bills and keep creating new, free erotica. (Click here to view in store.)


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