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

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“You don’t really want to get pregnant, do you, Fuckbunny?” asked Tim.

Bunny shook her head. She was currently completely naked in Tim’s office, straddling his lap as he sat in his office chair. Her hands were bound behind her back with Tim’s necktie, and his cock was in her unprotected pussy. She was bouncing up and down on his groin, trying in equal parts to get Tim to ejaculate into her, and to reach her own orgasm.

It was true that she didn’t want to get pregnant. Every time her arousal faded, and the state that she had once thought of as “rational thought” asserted itself, she began to panic at the thought of destroying her life with a pregnancy. But she was being “bred” daily in the office, and impregnation seemed more and more likely, and the only way she was dealing with those feelings was by rubbing her pussy and staying aroused and stupid.

“You may already be pregnant, you know,” he reminded her.

Bunny moaned. The thought terrified her – but in her horny state it also made her pussy pulse with eagerness. Her reproductive system seemed to long for pregnancy, even as her brain feared it.

“I could get you out of it, you know,” said Tim.

Bunny stared into his eyes with interest. Speaking was too hard – when she opened her mouth she just made slutty moans – but she wanted to know what he was proposing.

“We have an award,” said Tim. “A trophy. It’s the ‘Cunt of the Year’ trophy. Last year we gave it to your boss, Sugar-Tits – or ‘Emma’, as she used to be called. It’s given to whichever slut in the company is most productive and enthusiastic in the task of treating her fellow sluts like the subhuman fucktoys that they are. A kind of anti-feminism trophy, if you will.”

It sounded awful to Bunny – demeaning and disgusting and immoral. She wished it didn’t also make her cunt squeeze Tim’s cock so eagerly.

“It’s about due to hand the thing out again, and I have to make the decision on who to give the trophy to next week,” Tim continued. “It could be you, if you made an effort. And if you win the trophy, I’ll take you off the maternity program.”

The maternity program was what the company called their forced breeding initiative. Bunny definitely wanted out.

She found words. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

“Well, it’s entirely in my discretion who I give it to,” said Tim. “And I was thinking of giving it to Sugar-Tits. But she doesn’t really care whether she wins it or not. If anything, I think she’d prefer not to. It embarrasses her. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ve got three criteria for you to fulfil, and if you meet them all by next week, I’ll give you the trophy, and get you out of the maternity program.”

“Please, sir,” gasped Bunny. “I want to win it.”

“Good slut,” said Tim. “Number one, I want you to come up with a female resources proposal to improve the company. Something that makes our sluts more productive, while treating them like the sluts they are. You’ll know you’ve come up with a good one because the other bitches we employ will really hate it, and *you’ll* really hate it too.”

She nodded. She didn’t dare let herself *think* about such a betrayal of her gender. She just listened to her cunt feelings, and they were currently feeling very good.

“Second,” Tim said, “I want to see you betray one of your fellow bitch employees. Do something that will get a woman raped, who otherwise wasn’t going to be.”

“Yes, sir,” breathed Bunny, not daring to say any more.

“And third,” said Tim. “I want to see your commitment to the company. If you’re not going to bear a child for us, then I want to see some other permanent impact on your life. Something that means you’ll be forever unemployable by any company that respects women. Get creative.”

She rebelled at this, and stopped bouncing on Tim’s cock for a moment. Tim grabbed her nipples and yanked them downwards, and Bunny gasped, and resumed bouncing.

“I can’t…” she moaned.

“That’s okay,” said Tim. “Then you can get pregnant. Your body, your choice, right? You can choose pregnancy, or you can choose unemployability. It’s up to you.”

And with that, he shuddered, and ejaculated into her pussy.

And her traitorous cunt responded with an orgasm of its own.

===

She got her chance to complete the second of Tim’s three conditions that very day. Emma assigned Bunny an exit interview with a woman by the name of Cally who had been a personal assistant to a manager in the Asset Services division.

Cally was pretty, with long red hair, high cheekbones, and a petite figure, but she was obviously distressed as Bunny sat down across from her in the small meeting room.

“Can I ask what your reason for wanting to quit is?” asked Bunny, ready to take notes on the office laptop that had been provided to her.

“It’s Mr Hathton,” said Cally. She seemed on the verge of tears. “He’s always so inappropriate to me. He calls me ‘sweetie’ and ‘pet’. He gropes my ass whenever he can, and he always stares at my tits. Every day he suggests I’d be more attractive if I got a boob job. And today he asked me ‘which hole I preferred taking cocks in’ – and that was the last straw. I’m leaving, and he’s lucky I don’t report him.”

Bunny stared at the pretty secretary. Part of her knew she should let this girl go – she would be better off outside Kavenagh & True. Quitting was the right decision. Any sensible woman who valued her dignity and rights would quit this place.

But at the same time, she was angry at Cally. This silly little strumpet had the nerve to get weepy because a man had fondled her ass and given her a pet name, when Bunny has been trapped in a forced breeding program and spent her days licking her manager’s cunt. She should count herself lucky. She should be *grateful*.

But of course, Bunny didn’t have to be in that breeding program. Tim had made her an offer, after all.

Bunny got up and moved her chair around to the same side of the table as Cally. Cally looked at her nervously, unsure what was happening. Bunny sat next to Cally – and then very deliberately reached up and put her hand on Cally’s thigh, between the redhead’s knee and the hem of her miniskirt.

“Cally,” she said. “I’m sorry to see you go. I’m particularly sorry because it’s clearly going to be very hard for you to get a job, given what’s on your employee file here.”

Cally’s eyes scanned Bunny’s face for a clue as to what Bunny meant. “Why?” she asked. “What’s on my file?”

“Well, there’s the report I’m going to write,” said Bunny. “About how you’re lazy, and stupid. How you never get your work done, and you flirt with all the men. And of course, it will mention how you’re always masturbating in the female toilets when you’re supposed to be working. I don’t think prospective employers will be very impressed by a reference that mentions those things.”

Cally’s eyes widened. “But that’s lies! I’m not lazy, and I – I don’t… do *that* in the toilets.”

Bunny shook her head. “Oh, Cally,” she said. “You’re not so stupid that you haven’t seen some of the things that happen in this building. Do you *really* believe that Kavenagh & True doesn’t have candid footage showing you with your panties down in the toilets?”

She watched Cally. Honestly, Bunny had no idea if such footage existed. But she could believe it might.

And, clearly, so could Cally.

Cally’s eyes were wide with horror. “Why would you do that?” she asked.

Bunny’s hand shifted up Cally’s leg, pushing the hem of her skirt slightly towards her waist.

“Because you’re thinking with your bitch instinct, Cally,” said Bunny. “You don’t really want to leave. You should think with your tits. Your tits want to please men, even though they’re so small. They want you to stay here and keep working for Mr Hathton.”

“No!” protested Cally. “I don’t…”

Bunny’s hand moved an inch higher on Cally’s leg. Her skirt was beginning to bunch around her waist now.

“I want you to imagine,” said Bunny, “what it would be like for Kavenagh & True to make a formal announcement that you didn’t quit – you were fired. You were fired for fingering your cunt on work hours. And maybe they release a photo of you doing it. You know that you’ve touched your pussy in the toilets, Cally. So you know that the firm has a photo of it. I want you to imagine them posting that on your social media timeline, for all your friends and family to see.”

A tear welled in the corner of Cally’s eye. “This isn’t really happening,” she said.

“I assure you that it is,” said Bunny. She felt like a traitor to her gender for doing this. She felt like a villain. But at the same time, the feeling of holding such *power* over this silly spoiled redhead was addictive. It felt amazing. The thought of what she was going to do to this girl was horrible – and yet the fact that she could make it happen thrilled her.

Bunny pushed the girl’s skirt up to the waist, and then slid her hand between the girl’s thighs, to rest against her pussy. Cally was wearing thin cotton panties, and Bunny could feel the heat of the girl’s cunt against her hand. Cally squeaked, and clamped her thighs shut, but that only trapped Bunny’s hand tighter against her fuckbox.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Bunny. “You’re going to withdraw your resignation and go back to work. And when Mr Hathton gropes your butt, or your tits, or whatever, you’re going to giggle like a good girl and say thank you. Do you understand?”

Cally just looked at Bunny, wide-eyed, and Bunny had to squeeze her pussy to make her nod.

“Good girl,” said Bunny – and it felt odd to say those words, rather than hear them. She suddenly understood why men liked saying them to her so much. 

She continued. “And if Mr Hathton asks you which hole you like having a cock in, you tell him you like it in all of them, okay?”

Cally nodded again.

“And Mr Hathton’s right,” said Bunny. “You *would* look prettier with larger tits. I want you to ask Mr Hathon how large your boobs should be, and then go off and get them upgraded to match his tastes. The company offers a very generous loan arrangement for employees who want bigger tits.”

Cally shook her head. “I can’t…” she protested.

“Yes, you can,” said Bunny. “You can either make yourself pretty and desirable with big, sexy tits, or you can spend the rest of your life unemployed with a reputation as a lazy stupid masturbator.” She used her free hand to cup her own enhanced bosom. “You won’t regret the upgrade, trust me.”

That was a lie, too. Bunny was humiliated every day by the size of her fake round porn-star fuckmelons, but she was hardly going to admit that to Cally.

“Get your pussy hair laser-removed, too,” she added as an afterthought. “And when it’s all done, show Mr Hathton your tits and cunt, and ask him if he approves.”

Cally was trembling and weeping with fear and humiliation – but Bunny thought she would do as she was told.

“Are you going to do that, Cally?” asked Bunny. “Or should I file my report?”

“No,” said Cally. “I mean, yes. I mean… I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” said Bunny. She had no illusions as to what she had done. Cally was going to stay at the firm, and turn herself into a bimbo, and then Mr Hathton was going to rape her. Probably rape her on a regular basis, and turn Cally into his own personal cum-socket. Because of Bunny.

She should feel guilty, but mostly she felt pleased. There was no doubt that Tim would like what she had done. She would get credit towards the trophy, without a doubt.

Her hand was still resting against Cally’s pussy, and Bunny suddenly realised that her *own* cunt was wet and pulsing. It wanted… something.

No, she should be more specific. It wanted Cally.

Could she? 

Of course she could. Cally would do as she was told. Cally was already going to be raped. What was a little more sexual service? It wouldn’t hurt her more than what was going to happen to her anyway, now. 

And Bunny’s cunt was *so* wet…

“One more thing, sweetie,” said Bunny – deliberately using the pet name that Cally had complained of. She rose from her seat, pulled her panties down to her ankles, and kicked them off. Then she raised her skirt to her waist to expose her nude, wet pussy.

“No…” said Cally, shaking her head.

“Yes,” said Bunny. She reached out, grabbed a handful of Cally’s hair, and pulled her down, off her chair, to kneel on the ground, before drawing her head inexorably in towards Bunny’s fuckhole.

As it turned out, Cally was only moderately talented at licking cunt – but it was enough for Bunny. She kept Cally there for only ten minutes – and yet, in that time, Bunny orgasmed on five separate occasions, and each one was to a very specific thought.

The first was as she realised Cally’s body was shaking as the girl unwillingly licked Bunny’s pussy, and that there was a warm wetness against Bunny’s thighs.

She’s crying, Bunny thought. She’s crying into my cunt as she licks it.

(Orgasm.)

I’m raping her. I’m actually raping another woman. I’m forcing her to lick my twat against her will. I’m a rapist. I rape women.

(Orgasm.)

God, it feels so good. It feels even better than when Emma does things with me consensually. I *like* forcing her. Maybe women really *are* made for raping. Maybe *I’m* made for raping.

(Orgasm.)

She really will look better with fake tits. Not just to look at, but because she’s going to be humiliated by them. She looks so much sexier when she’s embarrassed and vulnerable. I want her to look like that all the time. God, why am I thinking that? It’s so evil. Tim was right. Women aren’t human. Women are just animals. *I’m* just an animal.

(Orgasm.)

I hope her manager gets her pregnant.

(Orgasm.)

And when it was over, Bunny knew she should have felt guilt.

But the only thing she felt was pride, in meeting one of Tim’s conditions – and sense of eagerness to discover whether there were *other* girls she could get away with raping at work…

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