The educational aids company advertised positions in batches; applicants would apply generally, and the company would offer them any positions that matched. Cassie sent a cover letter which read, “I am excited to work with your company. I hope you can see exactly what I am good at. (See attachment).” The attachment was intended to be her resume, but a slip of the finger led to her instead emailing a selfie of herself in underwear. She never noticed the mistake.
The photo was passed around the company’s HR area, and then into management, and it was agreed they definitely *could* see what she was good at. She was offered a position in “product testing” in short order, and Cassie, excited to be employed, signed the employment contract without even reading it.
The company’s new product was a signal that would make teen girls docile. It could be played over PA systems in all girls schools or in same-sex classes. The conscious mind didn’t register it, but over time it would make the subconscious obedient, calm, and receptive to new information. Schools would have reduced discipline problems, and girls would learn faster and test better.
They sat Cassie at a desk and gave her headphones to wear while she worked. They said they were noise-cancelling, to eliminate distractions, but instead they played the signal, non-stop, directly into her brain.
The make-work they gave her, to make her think she had a real job, involved a constant stream of pictures. Her task with each one was to come up with something a girl could learn from the picture. At first they were scientific diagrams, maps, and charts, but over time they began to include pictures of pretty fashion models, romantic couples, and ads targeted at women. Cassie duly noted that they could teach girls how to be pretty, how to please a man, and what things they should like.
Each day, after lunch, Cassie would be called to an “employee orientation” session, supposedly to teach her the values of the company. She would sit at these sessions, wondering why she was the only new employee present, while a manager would instruct her on how to work at the company.
Each day she would be told to do something just a little beyond what she saw as normal, to test the signal. On the first day, she was told to greet men at the company by hugging them and nuzzling her face into their necks. Cassie did it enthusiastically, not seeing anything wrong with the proposal. On the second day, she was told that the company dress code for women was to “dress so that men will want to have sex with you without asking for consent”. Cassie duly turned up to work the next day in stripper heels, a tiny pleated skirt that she had trimmed so that the bottom of her pussy was visible, white lace panties, and a semi-transparent white shirt tied off under her tits with no bra. Her face was red with embarrassment, but from that point on no one was looking at her face.
On the third day she was told there were already enough women in the company called Cassie, so to reduce confusion her name would be Cuddletits. She was told to go around and introduce herself to her co-workers by her new name, and a name-plaque was made for her desk bearing it. She nearly died of shame doing it, but the thought of saying “no” didn’t occur to her.
Meanwhile, the stream of images she was annotating was growing more pornographic. She blushed to look at them, but she would obediently write that each image could teach girls how to suck a cock, how to crawl on all fours, how big their tits should be, how to spread their legs. Under the signal, she was learning these things for herself even as she wrote.
From the fourth day, they started getting her to test other “products”. “Cuddletits, we want to see if girls learn better when they have nipple clamps on, so you’ll have to wear these from now on.” “Cuddletits, we think girls will be happier and more receptive if they have a vibrator in their pussy, so we’ll need you to stuff this up your cunt.” “Cuddletits, we think a condom full of cum mixed into your lunch every day will improve your ability to multi-task.”
On the Friday of her first week, they told her that she was now to masturbate whenever she felt ashamed or degraded, but at no other time, and that she was not allowed to orgasm for any reason without first making up a degrading act she would perform in exchange for being allowed to cum and then begging for permission from the closest man. She went bright red at the instruction. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t form the thoughts. She had to obey, no matter how humiliating, because good girls obeyed. As the shame rushed through her, she felt her hand slip into her panties and begin rubbing her cunt.
They increased her shame as she sat there masturbating in front of them. “By the way, Cuddletits,” they told her, “people have been complaining that no one recognises you from your ID, because no one ever looks at your face anymore. So we’re going to take some pictures of your pussy later, and we’ll put them on your ID. And guess what? We’re going to make you Employee of the Month, so we’ll also put a picture of your pussy up on the awards wall, with your name, as an inspiration to all the other women, and publish it in our corporate newsletter. Won’t that be nice?”
Cuddletits moaned and masturbated harder. She needed to cum. She desperately tried to think of something she could trade for an orgasm. “Please, may I cum?” she whined. “Please. I’m sorry, I’m such a slut. I’ll be a good girl. You can… fuck me. In my cunt. Or in my ass.” Was that degrading? Was it degrading enough? She couldn’t think, because she needed to cum so badly. ”You can cum on my face and I’ll go back to my desk with it on my face,” she suggested.
She was barely aware what was happening now, so when she was lifted from the chair, pushed over the desk in front of her, and felt the cock slip into her cunt from behind, she began to babble with gratitude. She barely heard her manager’s voice, talking to someone else in the room.
“I’d say the signal is a success,” he said. “Let’s get Lisa from Catholic Girls’ Education over for a meeting. But… maybe keep her waiting in a room by herself for an hour when she gets here, and play her the signal until I’m ready to see her…”
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