Story: Compelled Courtesy, Part 2

Previous chapter:
One

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When morning came, the Compelled Courtesy process no longer seemed real to Tahlia.  Surely she hadn’t been hypnotised into thinking strange erotic thoughts about a taxi driver’s arms?  Hypnosis couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, and Tahlia was a lesbian.  It was ridiculous.  

She had probably *thought* it had worked, because she had been anxious and desperate, but really it was just quackery.  If hypnosis worked for things like quitting smoking, everyone would use it.  Ergo, it was a fake.

She dressed professionally for the office, and ate breakfast with Junko, and then they set off for the office.  They travelled separately, so that no one would see them arrive together and realise they were a couple.  Junko drove the car, and Tahlia walked.  It wasn’t far – they lived in an inner-city apartment, and the offices of BJX Engineering were only a few blocks away.

The morning sun was just warm enough to be pleasant, and it put Tahlia in a good mood as she walked.  The mood lasted until she reached the block where the new apartment tower was being built.  It had been under construction for some months, and it would be for many months more.

As she stepped onto the block, she heard the sound she had been bracing for – the sound that she heard every day when she walked past: a wolf whistle.

“Hey, baby, I love them tits,” called out a crude male voice.  “Hang around a bit, show them off.”

She responded the way that she did every day – by refusing to look in the direction of the catcaller, extending a firm middle finger in his direction, and walking faster.

And as soon as she did, she felt her brain rearranging herself.

The middle finger?  What a bitch of a thing to do.  The man was only being nice to her, complimenting her on her tits.  She was acting like a complete cunt.

If I’m not going to stop so the man can see my tits, I should at least give him *something* to look at.  I should jiggle them a little for him.

Yes, that’s right.  When men are looking at my tits, I should jiggle them.

She felt her hands go to her boobs, lifting them up from underneath and bouncing them a little. She put a little extra spring in her step to give them extra lift and bounce.

Her face went bright red.  She couldn’t believe she was deliberately jiggling her breasts for construction workers, out here on a public street.  What was wrong with her?

“Oh yeah, baby!” came a different male voice from the construction site.  “I like that.  Work it, bitch!”

“Stop it!” Tahlia called in distress.  “Stop looking at me!”

Her mind shifted again.  What business of hers was it to tell a man where he could look?  She didn’t own his eyes – and she *was* on a public street – and she *had* jiggled her tits specifically to please men.  She was being a bitch again.

She needed to humiliate herself.  That would teach her a lesson.  Something to remind her not to tell men what to do.

She would take off her panties, right here and now.  And she would throw them as far away from her as she could.  And she would do that any time that she told a man what to do.

She felt herself stopping and reaching under her skirt.

“No!” she whispered to herself.  “No!  Stop it!”

But she wasn’t stopping.  She was pulling her panties down her legs.  

All the men on the construction site were watching her.  There were cheers, and whistles.  Someone called her a slut.  Someone commented on how she was probably a stripper.

She stepped out of her panties, picked them up, and threw them towards the construction site.  A worker caught them, and brought them to his nose, and laughed.

She felt so humiliated.  Now she was wearing a miniskirt and no panties.  She could feel air against her cunt.  What had she done?

She started to run, as best she could in her high heels, desperate to get away before she heard any more sexual comments.

At least one followed her – “Come back and take the rest of it off, whore!” – but she didn’t reply.  

She accepted it.  Like a good girl.

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When she got to BJX Engineering she headed straight for her office, doing her best to avoid seeing anyone – but she was unlucky.  She bumped straight into Angus Corville in a corridor.

“Hey, what’s the rush, baby?” he said.  “Take the time to show yourself off.  You’re looking fine today.”

His eyes weren’t looking at her face.  They were looking at her tits.

With horror, she felt her hands going to her breasts – lifting them, and bouncing them, directly in front of Angus.

His eyes widened.

“Oh, feeling flirty today, are we?” he said.  “Well, it just so happens that I am too.”

He advanced on her, pushing her towards a wall.  

She should accept it.  She should let him do whatever he was about to do.  But Angus was a toad.  He wasn’t just going to make lewd comments.  He would actually grope her tits – or worse – if she allowed him to.

She couldn’t help herself.  She lashed out.

“Fuck off, Angus,” she said.  And she pushed him away, physically.

He was surprised – at her mixed messages, if nothing else – and allowed himself to be pushed.

Tahlia’s brain was already rearranging itself, but she was storming full-speed down the corridor as it did, and by the time it settled on a response, she was in her office, with the door closed behind her.

What a bitch, she thought.  What a bitch I am.  I *pushed* him.  That’s assault.  I could get in trouble.  

I need to apologise.  Yes, that’s right.  Wherever possible, when I’m a bitch to a man, I should send them an apology, explaining why I was wrong and they were right.

Tahlia kept spare clothes in her office, including underwear, and she had intended to replace her discarded panties as a priority, but this new idea took priority.  She sat down at her computer and composed an email.

“Dear Angus,

I am so sorry for our interaction in the corridor this morning.  I was a stupid bitch and I acted like a cunt.  You had complimented me on my appearance, and I responded by jiggling my tits with my hands like a brainless bimbo.  This cockteasing behaviour was completely inappropriate in the workplace and you would have been within your rights to report me to HR.  Instead, you continued being nice to me, and in response I physically pushed you.  This is unacceptable.  My behaviour stems from being an uppity spoiled brat, and the natural difficulty with controlling emotions that all women have.  I will try to behave myself better in future.

Honestly, your confidence is sexy.

I sincerely hope you accept my apology,

Tahlia Foxheather.”

She tried to stop herself pressing “send”, but she couldn’t.  The email vanished into the network.  

She had felt her mind choosing the words that would make Angus happiest.  She knew he would enjoy her calling herself a cunt and a bitch.  She knew he would love the bit about the “natural difficulty of all women”.  

And as for his confidence being sexy – she needed to compliment a man if she was a bitch to him.  And then believe it.  She had moved away too quickly to say it to his face, but it fit nicely here in the email.

And besides, his confidence *was* sexy.  How had she never noticed that before?

Still, she hated herself – and she hated that Angus was going to read what she had written.

At least she was free now to put on new underwear.

She had barely pulled them up to snug against her groin when there was a knock at her office door.

Scared that it was Angus, she had some trepidation in her voice as she said, “Yes?  Who is it?”

“It’s Trent,” said the person knocking, and she sighed in relief.  Trent Boyce was a junior staffer who reported to Tahlia.  He was no threat.

“Come in,” she said.

Trent stepped into the office, and adjusted his spectacles.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.  “You look a little flushed.”

That was a blush.  She ignored it, and got to the point.

“What do you want, Trent?” she said.

“Oh, uh, I just wondered whether we should go ahead with sending out the new specification estimate,” said Trent.   “Or whether we need to work on it more.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to send it out – and then stopped.

If she told a man what to do, she would have to take off her panties again.  Here, in front of Trent.

“Uh… what do *you* think we should do, Trent?” she asked.

“It’s really your decision, Tahlia,” he replied.

She took a deep breath.  “I’d like to give you the lead on this one,” she said.

“I don’t mind,” said Trent.  “Just pick one.”

She bit her lip.  

“Trent,” she said, “I want to choose what the right path is.  Please.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Trent.

“I’m just… not very good at making decisions today,” said Tahlia.  “I trust you to get this right.”

“Oh, okay,” said Trent.  “Then I think we need to work on it more.”

It was the exact opposite of what Tahlia thought, but she couldn’t contradict him now.

“Good,” she said.  “Let’s do that.”

Trent nodded, and turned to leave.

Tahlia realised that this wasn’t going to work.  She couldn’t do her job if she couldn’t give instructions to men.  She needed to get rid of these stupid rules.  What had the technician said she needed to do?  *Encourage* sexual harassment – and then she could delete two rules.

“Trent,” she called out.

He turned.  “Yes?”

Her blush deepened.  “Do you… uh… do you think my breasts look good in this blouse?”

Now it was Trent who was blushing.  “I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question,” he said.

“It’s okay, Trent,” she said.  “You can tell me honestly.  Do you like my breasts?”

She hated this.  She was *flirting* – with a *man*.  She was encouraging him to judge her tits.  The fact he was her junior didn’t make it any better.  

He was looking at her boobs.  She jiggled them a little for him, which made him blush deeper.

Trent took a moment to reply – but eventually he said, “You have… really great tits.  And they look good in that top.”

She felt a rush of relief rush through her – and the sudden certainty that she could abandon two of her rules.

“Thank you, Trent,” she said.  “You can leave now.”

Once he was gone, and the door was shut behind him, Tahlia immediately let her brain relax – and two rules were just gone.

The rule about taking off her panties.  And the rule about jiggling her tits.

She sighed with relief.

She had two rules left now, and they both triggered when she was a bitch to a man.  She had to compliment him – and believe that compliment.  And she had to apologise.

There was an email in her inbox.  God, Angus had replied quickly.  How had he gotten back to his office so fast?

“Tahlia sweetie,

Gotta say I’m surprised to see this email, but I think we both always knew you were a cunt, and it’s good that you admit it.  If you really want to apologise to me, how about dinner tonight at 7?  Give me your address and I’ll pick you up.  Wear something slutty.

Yours, Angus.”

Tahlia panicked for a moment, thinking that she needed to accept Angus’ invitation – but then she remembered the “once per day” rule.  She had already punished herself for rejecting Angus once today – rejecting him again was free.

But still, turning him down was bitchy.

She typed quickly.

“No thanks, Angus.  I think you got the wrong idea.  I’m not interested.  I know I’m sending mixed messages.  I guess that’s just because I’m a stupid cunt, and I’m very sorry.  But that’s a hard no to dinner, now and in the future.  Please keep it professional in the office.  But I have to say, the way you pay so much attention to me is really hot.”

And she sent it.

Fuck.  One moment she was apologising for mixed messages, and then she was creating more of them.  She found it hot that he harassed her?  Really?

But she did.  And she was wondering what he would think when he got the email.  Probably he would be thinking about her all day.  Thinking about how she thought he was hot.  Thinking about her tits.

And to Tahlia’s shame, the idea of that was making her cunt wet.

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