The consulting firm had a very unique method of performance management for its female employees, and a large part of it was the annual Halloween Trick or Treat.
The female employees would gather in the parking lot of the office at midnight on Halloween – inevitably shivering, because they were required to be in costume. The requirements for the costumer were very specific – they must look like a fucktoy, and their tits must be bare.
Attendance and costuming were mandatory, and failure to comply would result in dismissal, but few girls balked, no matter how nervous or scared they were, as most of those prepared to stand up for themselves had already been weeded out by the firm’s requirement for female staff to get breast enhancements. (Their target industry was male dominated, and data showed that women with big tits received more contact from the clients, which meant more billable hours, and were invited to more events where they could network.)
At a quarter to one, a trio of black vans arrived, and the girls were ushered into the back. They were driven to a farmhouse they’d never seen before, and taken into the barn, where they were lined up against one of its wooden walls, their hands restrained against the wood so as to thrust their tits forward. Women who had attended before, and were trusted, were told to look up at the ceiling. The others were blindfolded.
One by one, the men of the office came in. The women couldn’t see who was who (by dint of blindfold, or by averting their eyes) but some wore masks in any case. Each man was invited by the firm’s partners to do anything he liked to the tits of any woman present. Grinning, the men would disperse among the women, and begin dispensing “tricks” and “treats”. Sometimes the women would be told to kneel, or forced down on their knees. Other times they would be made to stand again.
“Treats” might take the form of gentle stroking of the breast and teasing of the nipple; licking and sucking at the breast; rubbing the palm of the hand across the nipple and areola; or forceful but pleasant milking motions. Later, as the men became more aroused, a “treat” might be the warm, surprisingly soft feel of a man’s erect cock pressing against the girl’s fuckbags; the moisture of his pre-cum smearing across her titflesh; the rubbing of his penis back and forth between her cleavage, and the eventual warm spatter of sticky ejaculation on her face and melons. This last feeling was particularly welcome, because all the women knew there was a $3,000 bonus paid for each man who ejaculated on you during the event – a very particular performance bonus.
“Tricks” were far less pleasant. Hard pinching of the nipples. Painful squeezing of the tits. Men would slap the girl’s tits with their hands, bouncing the huge fake orbs around, or whip them with their leather belts. Some men had brought canes, to really make the women they disliked scream. One man had picked out all the women who had been a bitch to him over the year, and was progressing around administering the same punishment to each – affixing agonisingly heavy weighted clamps to each of her nipples, and then beating her tits with his hand, making the weights bounce up and down excruciatingly, until the clamps lost their grip and fell off.
Through it all, the girls could hear the sobs of Stacey from accounting, who had a habit of being a complete cow when she was PMSing, and was now receiving her deserved punishment as a man slowly and carefully tattooed the words “RAPE SLUT” across her tits using tattoo needles.
The effect on office morale – at least for the men – was incredible. The women were very attentive to the men all year round, keen to please, careful to not offend. The more ambitious ones actively cockteased their co-workers, hoping to make a small fortune come October by getting bathed in the cum of multiple men. None of the girls wanted to be offensive, and it was not uncommon if a girl accidentally snapped at a male co-worker in a moment of stress to see her later in the men’s bathroom, desperately fellating the man’s cock by way of apology. The manager made Stacey wear low-cut tops these days, so all the girls could see her tattoo every day and be reminded to be a good girl – and if that failed, there was nothing like leaving a little cut-out paper pumpkin on a girl’s desk to get her dressing more attractively and acting more submissively…
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