Tag: emma’s division

Bunny couldn’t believe it had come to this.  She surely wasn’t going to go through with it, was she?  She wasn’t going to say these horrible misogynistic things, out loud, in a room full of people, in a way that suggested she believed in them?

And wearing nothing above waist but a bra, for that matter – a bra that showed off a lot more of her large surgically-enhanced tits than she was comfortable with.

But nothing had changed in her situation.  If she was fired from this job, she would lose access to the sizeable trust fund that supported herself and her mother.  Her job was in “Female Resources”, and one of her duties was providing training, and she had received a clear direction to present training on “Women in the Workplace”, drawing directly from Tim Bolland’s patronising and degrading book.

Going to the training hall had required using the lift again.  Her panties had still been there, lying on the floor from her encounter with Mr True.  Blushing, Bunny had put them back on, promising herself that she wouldn’t lose them again.

The large training hall was arranged like a lecture theatre, with a lectern and whiteboard at the front, and tiered seating rising backwards towards the entry/exit doors.  Bunny was standing by the lectern, and already the seats were filling with women – primarily the youngest and newest recruits of the company, whose attitude needed the most adjustment.

Several seats up the back were occupied by men.  Bunny didn’t recognise them, but she had no doubt they were here to make sure she presented the material properly.  They were staring at her tits with lustful, amused grins on their faces.

As the last women seated themselves, Bunny picked up the microphone and addressed the room.

“My name is Fuckbunny Penrose,” she said, blushing as she used her embarrassing full name.  She hadn’t wanted to, but Tim’s book was very clear that a woman should introduce herself by the most demeaning version of her name, and she was expected to model the behaviours she was about to teach.

The book also specified other information that a woman should provide in her introduction.

“I have E-cup breasts,” she declared, “and my…”

She paused, blushing bright red.  Was she really going to say this?

She was.

“My last orgasm was last night, while masturbating to rape porn,” she said, quickly, her face burning with humiliation.

There were some gasps from the audience – women who hadn’t quite realised the extent of the patriarchal culture at Kavenagh & True.

“We are here today to talk about women in the workplace,” said Bunny.  “But actually, we can’t do that.  And this is the reason why.”

She went to the whiteboard, and wrote a simple phrase on it.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A WOMAN.

“Woman is the word for a mature person of the feminine gender,” said Bunny.  “But the truth is that, in comparison to men, our brains never fully mature.  While men are able to make decisions based on logic and evidence, people like me have brains that are driven by emotions, arousal, pain, fear, and our instinctive desire to breed.”

This was wrong, she knew.  It was a disgusting thing to be saying.  It was traitorous to all her feminist education.  And yet she had to say it.

And as she heard herself saying it, she experienced a strange sensation.  Once again, her traitorous cunt was becoming wet.

She thought she knew why.  Saying these things was giving her cognitive dissonance.  She couldn’t reconcile the words she was saying with the person that she knew herself to be – and so her body was reacting with arousal as a way of dealing with the disconnect.  It was a natural reaction to crisis and trauma.

And yet, wasn’t it exactly what she had just said?  Her brain wasn’t operating rationally, but was instead being driven by her emotions and her cunt.

She felt a wave of confusion, and had to pause for a moment, before going on.

“Instead of saying woman,” Bunny said, “say ‘girl’.  We are all girls – all nothing but children at heart – and we can only flourish in the presence of a father figure.  Our brains are simply not fully developed, and we need male input in order to avoid becoming confused and distraught.”

There were mutterings and frowns in the audience.  Many of the women didn’t like what Bunny was saying.  

She took a note of them.  They would be tested on the material at the end of the training, but they would require some further male assessment, with a quick trip to unemployment for those who didn’t take what Bunny was teaching to heart.

“I see some of you are confused and upset already,” she said.  “That’s happening for two reasons.  The first is that girls are stupid.  It’s just a fact.  We just don’t think very clearly, because there’s too much noise from our pussies and wombs and tits getting in the way of our brains.  And that’s making it hard for you to understand what I’m saying properly.”

There was more muttering.

“And the second is that you have been told a lie by society,” she said.  “Society told you that you were not stupid, and that naturally makes you feel upset and insecure when you feel you should be able to think like a man, but are unable to because you are a girl.  The first step to feeling happier is to let go of that idea, and just accept that you are stupid, because you are a girl.”

Her cunt was so wet.  She couldn’t believe how horny she felt.

“Now, I want you all to do an exercise for me,” she continued.  “Take a piece of paper, and I want you to write on it ten times, ‘I am a stupid little girl’.  Don’t worry about spelling.  The idea is to embrace your stupidity.  If you make mistakes, just leave them.  But do try and make it look as cute and feminine as possible.  Maybe dot the I’s with love hearts.  And then sign your name at the bottom.”

The women in the room – or rather, the girls in the room – looked down at their writing surfaces as they began to complete Bunny’s task.  No one was looking at Bunny – except the men at the back of the room. 

Her cunt was so wet.  Could she…

Standing behind the lectern, she gingerly lifted her skirt with one hand, and pressed a hand against her pussy.  The pressure felt good, and she couldn’t help but gasp.

She raised her eyes and met the gaze of the men at the back.  They were smiling even wider now.  They knew what she was doing.  They could tell.

They approved.

She was so humiliated.  And yet, she was so wet.

She held the gaze of the men, and worked a finger inside her panties.  Slowly, she began to stroke her clit.

It felt so amazing that she almost doubled over at the waist.  She had to hold onto the lectern for balance.  Standing up in these high heels was hard enough without trying to masturbate at the same time.  

She rubbed her clit urgently, furiously.  She was so aroused.  She needed to cum.  It wasn’t ideal that the men were watching her, but she no longer cared.  If she could just cum before the girls finished writing…

She was so, so close to orgasm when the first girl looked up from her task.  Hurriedly, Bunny yanked her finger away from her pussy…

.. but in doing so, she pulled on her panties.  And a moment later, as she smiled in what she hoped was an innocent fashion at the early-bird girl, she felt her panties began to slip down her thighs.

There was nothing she could do about it.  A moment later, they fell away entirely, and caught around her ankles.  The lectern hid it from the gaze of the class, but if she tried to take a step – or even lifted a high-heeled shoe enough to step out from the panties – everyone would see.

All the girls had done writing now, and were looking at her.

Suddenly, an idea came to her.

She bent down, stepped out of her panties, and then picked them up and lifted them to a height where the whole room could see them.  She was embarrassed, of course – but she had seen an opportunity to lessen her humiliation by making the whole room share in it.

“And now we’re going to follow up with a practical exercise of deferring your judgement to the more intelligent brain of a man,” she said.  “I want every girl in this room to take off her panties, and put them next to the paper you’ve just written on.”

There was a stir at this.  The girls didn’t want to do it.

One girl up the back spoke up.  “Are you joking?” she asked.

Bunny took a note of her.  She would likely be fired after the training ended.  “No,” she said.  “If you don’t take off your underwear, you won’t pass the training, and if you don’t pass the training you can’t be continued in your job.”

With many blushes, the girls in the room reached under their skirts and worked their panties down their legs.  Soon most of the girls had their underwear sitting on the writing surface in front of them.

One girl, a pretty blonde on the right side of the training hall, had done nothing, and was sitting there awkwardly, her face red.

“You there,” said Bunny.  She peered at the girl’s name badge.  “Tania.  Why haven’t you taken off your panties?”

The girl said something.  It was too quiet for Bunny to hear.

“Speak up,” said Bunny.

The girl blushed deeper, and then spoke louder.  “I’m not wearing any,” she said, her face crimson.

Bunny didn’t know what to do about that.  But one of the men up the back suddenly spoke.

“That’s fantastic initiative, cunt,” he said.  “See me after the training, and we’ll arrange for you to get a pay rise or promotion.”

Tania was so relieved to not be in trouble – and so excited about the possibility of a reward – that she raised no objection to being called “cunt”.

“For the rest of you,” said Bunny, “I want you to hand your panties to your most immediate male supervisor after leaving here, along with the paper you’ve just written on.  Tell him that it’s his decision whether you get your panties back, or whether you’re allowed to wear panties in future, because you’re too stupid to decide.  I’ll be checking in with your managers, and if I don’t get a good report, you *will* fail this training.”

There were further blushes at the thought of this humiliating task.  Bunny herself felt proud.  No one had acted like *she* was a slut for taking off her panties, because they were all too focused on themselves.

Bunny now turned, and wrote a new phrase on the whiteboard.

MEN HAVE THOUGHTS, WOMEN HAVE FEELINGS.

“This, by the way, is the title of an upcoming book from our own Tim Bolland,” said Bunny.  “Men have thoughts, but women have feelings.  That’s because our brains aren’t developed enough to have actual thoughts.  Our brain activity is derived from our hormones and endorphins and instincts, like an animal.  So we should never say ‘I think’ – we should say ‘I feel’.”

She drew a crude picture of a brain on the whiteboard.  On the left she wrote “GOOD FEELINGS” and on the right she wrote “BAD FEELINGS”.

“Where do a girl’s feelings come from?” she asked the lecture hall.  “Well, girls have good feelings and bad feelings.  Good feelings come from our cunt, and our tits, and from men.  Our cunt gives us arousal and pleasure, and our instinct to breed.  Our tits are designed for making milk, so they give us our desire to serve and please, and our general sense of happiness from doing so.  And of course, a lot of every girl’s ‘thinking’ actually comes from outside of us, from men, who are our source of logic, safety, direction and approval.”

Most of the women were so shocked by the misogynistic things Bunny was saying, they were just staring at her.  That was all right.  It was best for them to accept how Kavenagh & True worked now, rather than be difficult into the future.  But some were nodding – maybe not even aware they were doing so – as if everything Bunny said was making sense, and explaining things they had never previously understood.

“So,” continued Bunny, “when I say I am feeling happy, that is a thought that is coming from my tits.” And she cupped her tits and bounced them a little for emphasis – and, surprisingly, it actually did feel kind of good.

She turned to the other side of her drawing of the brain.  “And where do bad feelings come from?”  

On the board she wrote, “BITCH INSTINCT”.

“The bitch instinct is the part of us that has been tricked into thinking that we are the equal of men,” she said, “and so when it encounters the reality that we are more like animals than men, it gives us bad feelings.  It can lead us to argue with men, and pout, and have tantrums, and generally be unpleasant.”

Underneath it she wrote “HEAD NOISE”.

“The bits of the brain that produce logical thought for men just produce nonsense in women,” she said.  “We call this ‘head noise’.  It can seem like thoughts, but if you pay attention to it you will just end up confused and sad.  It may cause headaches.  The key to happiness is to tune out your head noise as much as you possibly can.”

And lastly she wrote “STOMACH”.

“The stomach is the cause of your inconvenient needs, like hunger and toileting,’ she said.  “and also the source of most unhappiness caused by illness.”

She pointed to the diagram as a whole.

“So what we want to do is maximise your good feelings – by concentrating on your cunt, on your tits, and on men – and minimise your bitch instinct, your head noise, and your stomach.”

She pointed at woman in the front row who was frowning.  “You there – Kelly,” she said, reading the woman’s name badge.  “What are you feeling right now?”

“I’m feeling this is hugely insulting, and I can’t believe that the company is authorising this as training,” she said.

“That’s a good example,” said Bunny.  “And what part of you is making that feeling?  Make sure you get it right, or you’ll be cleaning out your desk by the end of the day.”

Kelly flushed, and was silent for a moment before finally answering.  “My bitch instinct,” she eventually admitted.

“Good girl,” said Bunny.  “Now give me an example of a good feeling you have about this training.”

It took Kelly a while to think.  Finally, she blushed and said, “I want to do this training because my manager Emilio wanted me to do it, and I need to keep him happy, and he’ll probably think it’s funny when I give him my panties and this paper.”  She paused again, looking at the diagram on the whiteboard.  “And that feeling is coming from my tits, because it’s about wanting to please a man, and it’s coming from a man, because it’s giving me direction and approval.”

“Excellent!” said Bunny.  “Now I’m going to hand around a test.  It has thirty examples of feelings, and you have to identify where those feelings are coming from.  Then it asks you for five examples of feelings you’ve had that have come from your cunt, and then there’s a short essay section where you describe how you feel you should be punished if you act on your bitch instinct.”

By the time Bunny had handed out the test, she could hardly think straight.  Her thoughts (her feelings, she corrected herself) were so confused.  They were just… well, head noise.  She felt so guilty for teaching this horrid misogynist course.  And at the same time, her cunt was so wet – responding to her guilt and trauma with arousal.  She wanted to confess that what she was doing was disgusting – that *she* was disgusting.  She wanted to cry.

She looked at the whiteboard again.  Bad feelings and good feelings.  Maximise the good and minimise the bad.  Could it be that simple?  

She stood behind the lectern, and furtively lowered her hand to her cunt.  All the girls in the room were writing.  Only the men were looking at her.  And they were… approving.  A contemptuous, degrading kind of approval, sure, but they certainly didn’t object to her masturbating.

And when she touched her pussy, it felt so good that it was hard to think of anything else.

Maximise the good, minimise the bad.

She began to fingerfuck herself, right there in front of entire class of girls, and almost immediately she could think of nothing but how good it felt.  The head noise and the – well, the bitch instinct, the part of her that was feeling guilty – were completely tuned out.  They didn’t matter.  And when she looked up into the eyes of the men at the back of the room, and saw them watching her, somehow it was even better.

She let her cunt do her feeling for her.

And she wondered how many times she could cum before the girls finished their tests.

===

You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division right now for only $7.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Support the writing of this story by buying your copy today!  (Click here to view in store.)

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(Click here to view the Emma’s Division e-book in store!)

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

===

It was humiliating for Bunny to crawl into her workplace on all fours, with her bra exposed and her panties missing, yes – but at the same time it felt like she was more fully joining the community of her co-workers.  Many of the women in Female Resources already worked close to the ground at child-sized desks, or crawled on all fours across short distances.  And of course, the only way for women to enter or exit Emma’s office was on all fours.  

Her co-workers approached her as Bunny crawled into the office space, and Bunny remembered the new policy – the one that was her fault – about kissing her female co-workers to greet them.  They mercifully didn’t make Bunny stand, instead sinking to their knees in front of her as Bunny rose to her own knees.  One by one, Bunny tongue-kissed each of the woman in the office, as her new way of saying “hello”.

Her bitchy colleague Pumpkin still didn’t like Bunny, of course.  “Dumb bitch,” hissed Pumpkin immediately before giving Bunny an aggressive and forceful kiss on the lips.  Pumpkin’s hand snaked down to between Bunny’s legs and under her skirt, and Bunny squeaked into Pumpkin’s mouth as she felt the other woman pinch her pussy lips cruelly.

She didn’t intend to take such abuse from a cunt like Pumpkin without retaliating, of course, so she raised her hands to Pumpkin’s tits and grabbed them.  She squeezed each nipple as hard as she could, and felt wetness against her fingers – she had just squirted milk from Pumpkin’s lactating udders, soaking the front of Pumpkin’s dress.

“Dumb cow,” she said as she broke off the kiss, smiling at Pumpkin’s look of pain and embarrassment.  Maybe Pumpkin would think twice about messing with her in future.

And then it was her turn to kiss Gwen, the pretty redhead.  Just like yesterday, Gwen didn’t want to take part in the slutty lesbian display.  She knelt in front of Bunny when Bunny asked her to, but her eyes were downcast and ashamed, her face turned to one side.  Bunny had to reach out and take a handful of her hair and *force* Gwen to kiss her.

She was once again surprised by how good it felt to kiss another woman non-consensually, and how erotic it felt to use her physical strength to dominate and subdue a pretty girl.  It was for Gwen’s own good, of course – the silly girl would be fired if she refused to play along with the new policy – but Bunny couldn’t ignore how her cunt pulsed needily as she pushed her tongue between Gwen’s unwilling lips.  

She took the opportunity to go further and place her hand on Gwen’s breast.  Gwen tried to pull away, but Bunny used her grip on the girl’s pretty red hair to hold her still.  She squeezed Gwen’s tit tightly, enjoying its soft roundness – but also, to her surprise, enjoying Gwen’s tense, humiliated refusal to respond in kind.

She found herself wanting to do more with Gwen – to place Gwen’s hand on her pussy, as she had done yesterday, or push Gwen back and down, onto the office floor, and put a knee between her legs, and kiss her, and…

But that was Bunny’s cunt talking.  What she had said to Mr True that morning was correct – her pussy *did* make it hard for Bunny to think properly.  

She blushed, and broke off the kiss with Gwen.  But before she pulled away entirely, she whispered to the other woman: “You need to play along, Gwen, and be a good girl.  Otherwise you won’t last here very long.”

And then the kissing was done, and Bunny was free to crawl across the floor and through the dog-door that led to Emma’s office, to make her morning report.

But as she emerged from the dog door into Emma’s office, Bunny froze.  Emma wasn’t alone in her office.  Tim Bolland was here.  And Emma was kneeling in front of him, her head bobbing…

Bunny blushed.  Emma was giving her supervisor a blowjob, right here in the office, and Bunny was watching it.

Tim sighed softly, and Emma’s throat and cheeks began to pulse frantically.  Bunny realised with embarrassment that Tim had just ejaculated into Emma’s mouth, and Emma was swallowing it.  

Then Emma was backing away, and Tim was tucking his cock back into his pants, and Emma was standing.  She motioned for Bunny to stand, too, and Bunny did, tottering precariously on her too-high heels.  Emma approached Bunny – and then pushed her.  Bunny hit the wall of the office hard, and then Emma was on top of her, pressing her firmly against the wall, opening her mouth, *kissing* her…

Bunny’s eyes widened and she struggled briefly, until Emma grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall.

Emma’s mouth wasn’t empty.  There was still cum in it – Tim’s cum – and she was using her tongue to push that cum into Bunny’s mouth.

Emma’s knee was between Bunny’s legs, forcing them apart, and then Bunny could feel the warmth of Emma’s thigh pressing against her bare, wet cunt.  She struggled again – less at the intrusion, which felt very good against her needy pussy, and more at the thought that she was going to leave smears of sticky cunt juice across her boss’ leg.

But despite her struggles, there was no escape – and after a moment, Bunny no longer *wanted* to escape.  Emma pressed her thigh hard against Bunny’s cunt, and her big fake tits pushed against Bunny’s own enhanced fuck-balloons, and her lips were warm and soft against Bunny’s mouth.  And cum didn’t taste so bad, really – kind of salty, and sexy….

She moaned, and felt Emma smiling even as the kiss continued.  Bunny’s hands were still pinned against the wall, and somehow it felt *good* to have so little control, to just let Emma do what she wanted – especially when what Emma wanted felt so pleasurable.

She swallowed the cum in her mouth, and then sucked more of it off Emma’s tongue, all while subtly humping her pussy against her boss’ leg.

Suddenly the kiss was over, and Emma pulled away, leaving Bunny horny, flushed and gasping.

“Thank you,” whispered Bunny, even though she didn’t know what she was thanking Emma for.  The cum?  The kiss?  The feeling of being helpless and dominated?

All of the above?

“That was very attractive, Fuckbunny,” said Tim, from the corner of the room.  “You’re fitting in very nicely at Kavenagh & True.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Bunny, blushing.

“You seem to enjoy working for Sugar-Tits here,” said Tim.  “Would you like to work with her more closely?”

Bunny looked at Emma, and blushed even deeper red.  What was Tim asking?  Did he want her to…

But Tim mercifully explained, before Bunny’s thoughts could wander further.  “Sugar-Tits needs an executive assistant, Fuckbunny,” he said.  “I was thinking you might like the role.  It’s technically a promotion, and it comes with a payrise.”

Bunny’s thoughts were confused and incoherent.  (“Because of my cunt”, she found herself thinking.)  An executive assistant was like a secretary, basically – and she hadn’t studied all those years just to be a secretary.  But Tim said it was a promotion, and a payrise – and it would give her a chance to be closer to Emma, and maybe fix whatever had turned Emma into this brainless bimbo…

“Yes, sir,” she heard herself say.  “I’d like that very much.”

“Well, then, I suppose I should do a formal interview,” said Tim.  “But let’s make it easy.  I’ll ask you three questions, and as long as I like and approve of your answers, you’ve got the job.  Do you like that idea, Fuckbunny?”

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny.

“First question,” said Tim.  “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Bunny opened her mouth, to explain about not being able to walk, and Mr True, and her shirt falling off – and then paused.  It was almost impossible to explain that story without criticising Mr True, a senior partner at the firm.  But also – was that really what Tim wanted to hear from her?  Was any man at this company really interested in hearing a woman whine about her misfortune?

No.  She knew what Tim wanted to hear.

“I’m not wearing a shirt because I’m a stupid dumb cunt, sir,” she said, blushing and looking at the floor.

“That sounds about right,” said Tim.  “I don’t think I’m going to give you a replacement today.  You’ve lost too many shirts.  Your bra is perfectly attractive, and you can just stay like that for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny unhappily.

“Second question,” said Tim.  “Why are you wearing those ridiculous high heels?”

Once again, Bunny almost launched into a story about Leroy, and how he had *forced* her to wear the heels – but again, she stopped.  It just seemed wrong.  It seemed whiny, like she was blaming Leroy for it – and she knew Tim didn’t want to hear her blaming men for things.

So instead she said, “I’m wearing them to help me get raped more often, sir.”

Tim laughed.  “All right, then – last question.  Why do you deserve to be raped?  Give me three reasons.”

She flushed.  She disagreed with the whole premise of that question.  The part of her that was a feminist wanted to shout at him, slap him, and storm out of the office.  She even looked briefly at Emma for help – but there was no help coming from that quarter.

But also – was Tim really wrong?  She had come to Kavenagh & True thinking she was a firm, upright feminist who was ready to start a professional career – but since she had gotten here, she had let men (and women) humiliate her and degrade her.  She had kissed other women – some without their consent.  She had called herself a cunt.  She had masturbated to footage of a real rape.  She has asked two different men to spank her bare ass.  She had sucked cum off her boss’ tongue.  And through it all her cunt had been sluttishly, gushingly wet.

Was she really that nice girl who didn’t deserve to be raped?

Or had the office shown her that she was something else?

It didn’t matter.  Tim needed an answer.

“I deserve to be raped because I’m stupid,” she said, her face still red with humiliation.  “And… because my pussy is wet.  And…”

She paused, not wanting to say it – but knowing it was the answer that would guarantee she had pleased Tim.

“And I deserve to be raped because I’m a woman,” she concluded.

Tim gave a deep, genuine smile.  “Good girl,” he said.  “You’ve got the job.  You can get set up when you come back from the training presentation you’re giving this morning.”  Then he held up his phone, and pressed something on the screen.  Immediately, Bunny’s recorded voice played, loud and clear, from the phone speakers.

“I deserve to be raped because I’m a woman,” Bunny heard her voice repeat.

“I like that answer,” said Tim.  “Set it as your voicemail on your work and personal phones, Fuckbunny.  I’ll be calling to check, so make sure that you do.”  He paused.  “Oh, and from now on, I expect you to show proper respect to the woman you’re working for.  Call her ‘Mistress’, understand?”

And then he left the office – by opening the door, like a person, instead of crawling through the dog flap like a woman.  

Emma was looking at Bunny.  “I’m glad you’ll be my assistant,” she said, and there was a strange look in her eyes – almost hungry, and yet at the same time sad and guilty.

“I’m glad I’ll be your assistant too… Mistress,” said Bunny, blushing.

Emma smiled.  “You’d better hurry along and give that presentation now,” she said.  “Hop along like a good little fuckbunny.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Bunny.

And even though Bunny tried to hide how shockingly, whorishly *good* it felt to use that word – Mistress – she knew that Emma could tell.

And, honestly, that felt good too.

===

You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division right now at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  157 pages of erotica for only $7.99 USD – and your purchase supports me to keep creating new erotica! (Click here to view in store.)

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

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Andrea White was pretty, in a small-titted kind of way.  She had a cute face, and long silky light-brown hair, and she dressed well.

But none of that had been enough to save her.

“Andrea,” said Bunny, standing nervously beside the woman’s low desk in the Accounting section, “you’re being fired.  You have 15 minutes to clean out your desk and leave the building.”

Andrea, whose workstation required her to kneel to use it, looked up at Bunny in horror.  “What? Why?”

“Your performance has been unsatisfactory over several months now,” said Bunny.  That was a lie – Andrea was fine at her job, but on Tim’s instructions Bunny had spent the morning altering Andrea’s personnel records to paint a picture of ineptitude and incompetence.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” demanded Andrea.  “Whose decision was this?”

“It was my recommendation to Tim Bolland,” said Bunny.  “I recommended that your position should be reviewed because your tits are so pathetically small and disappointing.”

She blushed as she said this.  She couldn’t believe she was saying something so misogynistic and vile.  But her instructions from Tim were clear – and if she got fired herself, she would lose access to the trust fund that sustained both herself and her mother.

There was some sniggering from the men at nearby desks as Bunny commented on Andrea’s tits.  Andrea was the only woman working in this section, working at her demeaning kiddy desk while the men all around her had proper workstations.

“You cunt!” spat Andrea.  “This is bullshit.  I’m good at my job.  And I need this pay – I have debts…”

“You should have thought of that when you chose not to upsize your tits to a less disappointing size,” said Bunny, primly.

She was completely unprepared for Andrea’s response.  Andrea snarled – and threw herself at Bunny, tackling her around the legs.  Surprised, Bunny fell to the floor – and then Andrea was on top of her, clawing at her flesh, ripping at her clothes.

There were hoots and hollers from the men of Accounting, who now gathered round to watch the catfight on the office floor.  Bunny heard bets being placed as she desperately tried to ward off Andrea’s frenzied attacks.  She thought someone might be filming the fight on their phone.

Andrea grabbed a handful of Bunny’s blouse, and pulled.  Bunny heard it rip, and the buttons pop off from the front, exposing the blue fabric of her bra.

“You BITCH!” squealed Bunny.  That was the second shirt that had been destroyed in the office in as many days.  She pushed Andrea off her, hard, and when the other women fell on the ground beside her, she moved on top of her, pinning her down.  Her knee was between the other woman’s legs, and her hands moved to pin Andrea’s wrists to the floor.  Bunny’s chest was heaving with exhaustion, which she knew was emphasising her partially-exposed tits, but she couldn’t help it.  

Part of her mind was working out how she could slap Andrea across the face without letting go of the woman’s wrists.

“All right, break it up,” said a male voice, and the crowd around the two women parted.  It was Jake Hanset, the head of Accounting.  “What’s going on here?”

Bunny wasn’t quite ready to move off Andrea.  She was worried the other woman would attack her again if she let go.

“I was notifying Andrea that she had been fired,” said Bunny.  “And she attacked me.”

“Well, it’s about time someone fired that bitch,” laughed Hanset.  “Can you believe she made a harassment complaint against me last month?”

Bunny could believe it.  She had read the report.  There was, in fact, no doubt that Hanset had tried to rape Andrea in his office, and Andrea had resisted him.  It was one of the chief reasons that Bunny had rated Andrea as having “disappointing tits”, leading to her dismissal today.

“You can’t do this!” protested Andrea, struggling against Bunny’s hold on her.

“Absolutely she can,” said Hanset, looking down at Andrea.  “I want you gone as soon as you get up.”  He paused.  “But before you do, I think you two girls should end this fight by kissing and making up, don’t you?”

Bunny blushed.  “I’m sorry for fighting with you,” she said to Andrea.

Andrea looked at her with disgust.  “That’s not what he means,” she said.

“Then what…” said Bunny.

“Kiss,” said Hanset, sternly.  “And make up.  And it had better be sincere, Andrea, or else you’re not getting your last two weeks of pay.”

He wanted them to actually *kiss*.  In front of all these men.

She didn’t have to, did she?  She didn’t report to Hanset.

But she thought about what Tim Bolland would say.  He would be disappointed.  He might spank her (even if the thought of that wasn’t quite as de-motivating as it maybe should be).  He might deduct points from her faction.  He might fire her.

And besides, Hanset was a man – and Bunny had come to understand that if there was one rule at this company, it was that women obeyed men, no matter what the circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered – and then, still pinning Andrea’s wrists, she leaned down and kissed Andrea on the mouth.

Andrea must have needed her pay desperately, because she kissed Bunny back passionately, even going so far as to stick her tongue into Bunny’s mouth.  Bunny felt weird, kissing another woman – especially with all these men watching – and even weirder when she heard one of the men say, “Fucking lesbian sluts,” provoking laughter from the other men.  But even as her face coloured with a pretty blush, she felt her pussy throb inexplicably with a needy wetness.

Experimentally, without really meaning to do so, she moved her knee up harder between Andrea’s legs, pushing into Andrea’s pussy – and she felt Andrea moan into her mouth in response.

Then the kiss was over, and Bunny was releasing Andrea and standing up, Bunny’s hair was a mess, and her shirt was ruined.  In addition to the buttons being missing, there was a large rip down the back.  

“I’ll take care of this bitch,” said Hanset to Bunny, pointing at Andrea on the floor.  “Why don’t you run about your business, sweet-tits?”

“Thank you, sir,” said Bunny – and as she walked away, she heard Andrea beginning to cry behind her, long sobs of humiliation and despair.

===

She had four more women to fire, but instead of going to the next name on her list, she went to see Tim.  She got down on all fours and crawled through the dog door of his office, to find him alone, reading a report on his computer.

“Good morning, Fuckbunny,” he said, as she stood.  “How can I help you today?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Bunny.  “I was firing the first woman on my list, and she damaged my shirt.  Is there any chance you have another spare?”

Tim gave her a long, considering look, and Bunny blushed – not just because her bra was exposed, but because she felt like she was disappointing Tim, and despite everything that actually made her feel guilty.

“I’m going to have to discipline you for losing your clothes again, Bunny,” said Tim.  “Take off those ruined clothes, and come and lie on my lap, and when we’re done I’ll give you a replacement.”

Bunny stripped off her shirt, and started to move towards Tim, but he stopped her.

“All of them, Bunny,” he said.  “Take them off.”

“The other clothes aren’t damaged, sir,” objected Bunny.

Tim stood, and walked over to her – and then slapped her across the face.  Bunny gasped, and staggered backwards.

“Take off all the damaged clothes, Fuckbunny,” he told her.  “And don’t ever contradict me again.”

She whimpered – and obediently began to strip.  She supposed Tim had seen her tits before, when she had borrowed a shirt from him last night.  And he’d definitely seen her ass and pussy when he’d spanked her – and brought her to two orgasms.  This was nothing new.

But still, standing completely nude in a man’s office was humiliating.

Tim had returned to his seat.  “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.  Bunny walked over, and awkwardly laid herself across his lap, ass up.  She could feel the tent of his erect penis in his pants, poking against her groin as she lay there.

“Tell me what you are,” said Tim.

“I’m a dumb cunt,” said Bunny quietly.  “I’m a stupid dumb cunt, sir.”

“Good girl,” said Tim.  “Keep going.”  And with that, he took the black leather paddle out of his desk drawer, and began to spank her.

Bunny’s ass was still bruised from yesterday, so each strike of Tim’s paddle hurt even more than it had the last time – and yet, it was better, too.  Each time he hit her, it was a solid thud, that reverberated through her whole groin, sending waves of impact through her cunt that had a deliciously erotic effect.

“I’m a dumb slut,” she whispered. “I’m a stupid cunt.  All women are stupid bitches.  I’m such a dumb bitch.”

WHACK.  WHACK.  WHACK.  The world was reduced to her degrading statements, the fire in her ass, and the wetness in her cunt.  Each blow hurt so much – but it was a good hurt, and she found herself moaning like a whore with each impact.  

“Please let me cum,” she heard herself gasp.  “I’m a dumb cunt.  Please finger my cunt.  Please.  I’m so stupid.”

And then suddenly the paddle wasn’t striking her.  Instead, Tim was pushing the handle up into her twat, and Bunny felt herself bucking against it, and then beginning to deliciously, whorishly, humiliatingly orgasm on Tim’s lap.

And then it was over, and Bunny felt the guilt and shame rush back.  She had come to this firm with such high hopes for a professional career – and in her first week she had already orgasmed from letting a man spank her at the office not once but twice.  What kind of slut was she?

Her mind supplied the answer.  She was a stupid dumb cunt.

She blushed, and pushed that thought away.

“Get up,” said Tim, and Bunny obeyed.  Tim stood, and extracted two items of clothing from the same cupboard he had gotten the shirt from yesterday.  He passed them to Bunny.  “Wear these.”

Bunny quickly put on the clothes, eager to dress herself before someone walked into the office and saw her naked.  But once they were on, she realised the clothes weren’t much of an improvement.  The white blouse was semi-transparent, and the shape of her tits and the dark circles of her areolae were clearly visible through it.  The black skirt was tiny, and its hemline only barely came down further than her pussy.  There was no underwear provided, and Tim had made no offer to give her back the clothes she had been wearing previously – which appeared to have vanished back into the cupboard these new clothes had come out of.

“Sir…” said Bunny nervously.  “I can’t wear these.  People can see my breasts.”

Tim shrugged.  “Then take them off.”

Bunny looked at the cupboard that had swallowed her old clothes, but Tim ignored her, and it was obvious no alternative clothes would be offered if she chose to strip.  She whimpered.

“Here,” said Tim, “have a lollipop.”  And he passed her one of the sugar-free lollipops he had given her last night.

Bunny blushed, because she knew what she was expected to do with it.  Her cheeks flaming bright red, she took the lollipop from Tim – and then pushed it into her wet cunt.  The skirt was short enough that accessing her pussy was easy.  Then she pulled it out, covered with her fuck honey, and popped it into her mouth, tasting the mix of sweet candy and salty cunt juices.

“Run along now, Bunny,” said Tim.  “You still have four bitches to fire, don’t you?”

She did.  She got down on all fours – knowing that the posture fully exposed her bare ass and pussy to Tim’s gaze – and crawled out the dog door.

As Tim said, she had bitches to fire.

====

You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division right now for only $7.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Better yet, your purchase supports me to keep creating hot new erotica! (Click here to view Emma’s Division in store.)

===

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

===

Leaving Emma’s office meant crawling back through the dog door.  Emma went first – and Bunny blushed as she saw that Emma, too, was wearing no panties.  Her naked ass and shaved, nude, pussy wiggled back and forth as she crawled.  Bunny tried to look away until Emma was through the pet flap and standing on the other side, and then she got down on all fours and followed.

She wanted to ask Emma why she had a dog flap on her office door – but she remembered the book Emma had given her – “Humans Have Cocks: The Case For Treating Women As Animals” – and suspected she could already guess the answer.

Emma surveyed the Female Resources office floor.  “Where would you like to work?” she asked.

Almost all of the desks in the area were child-sized, like the ones found in a primary school, but there were a few normal desks – all of them currently unused.

“That one,” she said, pointing at one of the normal desks in the centre of the office.

Emma frowned.  “That’s a man’s desk, Bunny,” she said.  “Don’t you want one of the women’s desks?”

“I’m not kneeling on the ground like a child,” protested Bunny.  “I want to sit at a real desk.”

“Okay,” said Emma.  “But I think you’ll regret it.”

She led Bunny over to the desk.  The seat in front of it was hard plastic, with a textured surface.  Bunny sat on it and grimaced – it wasn’t comfortable, and it felt like there were little spikes pressing into her buttocks.

“That’s left over from the last woman who tried to sit here,” said Emma.  “It’s our special ‘big girl’ chair.”  She turned on the computer on the desk, and passed Bunny a piece of paper.  “It’s a spoken logon.  We use voice ID for security.  Read this out, then destroy the paper – you’ll get fired if you’re found keeping a written copy of your password.”

Bunny looked at the paper, and blushed.  “I can’t say this,” she said, quietly.

“Sure you can,” said Emma brightly.  “It’s just a password.  IT will change it for you every couple of weeks.  Just say it out loud, for the computer.”

Bunny looked around – but there was no way out.  It was do as she was told, or cause a scene – and maybe get fired, losing access to her trust fund in the process.

“My name is Fuckbunny Penrose,” she said, blushing.  “I deserve to be raped.”

The computer beeped happily, recognising her voice, and a moment later she was staring at the Kavenagh & True home screen.

Bunny looked at Emma.  “Why do you allow all this?’ she asked.  “It’s so… demeaning.  And wrong.”

Emma looked around, and then leaned in close to Bunny.  “Think about all the things you’ve done when your pussy is wet,” she said, “and all the fantasies you’ve had just before cumming.  Then imagine that everyone knew about them.  Would they think you were a woman who deserved equal rights to men?  Or would they think you were a disgusting slut that should have to crawl on all fours?”

Bunny blushed.  She hadn’t expected such a direct – and explicit answer.  But Emma’s words made her remember some of her own fantasies – the thoughts she’d had sometimes, while masturbating, that had taken her over the edge to orgasm.  Thoughts that she’d denied, afterwards.  Thoughts that didn’t represent her normally, but…

Emma saw the brief pause, and the look of doubt on Bunny’s face, and nodded.  “Exactly,” she said.  Then she straightened, and spoke at a normal volume again.  “Your first task is from Tim himself.  You’re lucky!  He wants a list of all women employed by the company, ranked in order of the quality of their tits.”

“The quality of…” said Bunny, not sure she’d heard right.

“Of their boobs.  Their fuckbags.”  Emma pouted a little.  “Just use the employee files, and make sure the girls with the best udders at the top of the list, and the ones with the most disappointing tits are at the bottom.”  She paused.  “Make sure you do a good job.  If Tim disagrees with your rankings, he *will* punish you.”

“But…” said Bunny, dismayed.  How could she possibly be expected to rank women based on their tits?  This wasn’t even real work – was it?

“He asks for this list every month or so.  The girls at the bottom of the list – with the worst tits – get fired.”  Emma looked at the clock on the computer screen.  “He wants the list by 2 pm,” she added.  “I’d get started, if I were you.”

And with that, she returned to her office – crawling through the dog door – and leaving Bunny to work.

Almost immediately, a blonde woman left her low desk nearby, and came over to Bunny.  The woman had large breasts – and was visibly pregnant.  “Hey, new girl,” she said.  “You chose to be in the Bunnies?”  She was pointing at Bunny’s velvet collar and Playboy-bunny charm.

“Emma recommended it for me,” said Bunny, lamely.  “Ah – my name’s also Bunny.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Pumpkin,” said the woman.  “I scored 30 points for the Bunnies when I changed my first name to Pumpkin, and another 30 when I changed my last name to Babymaker, and another 30 after that when I got knocked up.  That put us into second place on the board.”

She pointed to a whiteboard decorating the nearby wall.  It listed the four “factions” – Bitches, Cows, Kittens and Bunnies – with a number next to each.  The Bunnies were indeed in second place, with a total of 540 points.  First place was apparently held by the Bitches, on 610, with Kittens and Cows both trailing behind in the high 400s.

“You changed your name to… Babymaker?” asked Bunny, horrified.

“All the men used to laugh that I was born to be a babymaker,” said Pumpkin, “so I just changed my name to reflect what they were calling me anyway.  It made Tim in HR very pleased.”  Her face hardened. “And I don’t need some new girl fucking it up for the Bunnies,” she said.  “Just smile, and let the men stare at your tits, and behave yourself.  With a little work, we can get to number one – and you *don’t* want to end up in last place on the board.”

“Why?” asked Bunny.  “What happens to last place?”

“Just be a good girl, understand?” hissed Pumpkin.  “Keep your head down and don’t make trouble.”

And with that, Pumpkin was gone, back to her desk.

Bunny felt unsettled by the strange conversation – but she had work to do, and a deadline to do it in.  She accessed the “female resources” app on her screen, and soon had a list of the 500-odd women employed by Kavenagh & True.

Each woman’s employee file contained one or more pictures of the woman.  Some – such as Bunny’s – showed a simple, professional headshot.  But on many files, she found picture of women exposing their naked tits for the camera, eagerly presenting their tits for inspection.  Some even had photos of women’s naked pussies, or of the women engaging in explicit sexual acts.  

Many files contained data on the woman’s cup size, “vaginal tightness”, “anal readiness”, or notes about her sexual history.  A lot of files contained information on the woman’s menstrual cycle, including all the women who held the rank of “executive with udders”.  Some files held notes, added by anonymous men, such as “cries during anal sex, but doesn’t struggle”, or “makes a cute expression if you cum on her face during work hours”.

Bunny felt sick.  Kavenagh & True was misogynistic and abusive right down to its core – and her one-time hero, Emma, was aiding and abetting those vile behaviours.  

But what could she do about it?  If she refused to work here – or got fired – she would lose access to her trust fund, and she and her mother would be out of a home.  In addition to which, Kavenagh & True was influential – if she got fired from here now, she might find it hard to get work at a more normal company.

So she began to sort the female employees by the quality of their tits.

She had no clear idea of how she was supposed to rank the women.  Just by cup size?  She could do an auto-sort on the data and produce that ranking in minutes, so she couldn’t see how that would take her until 2 pm.  Clearly some finer judgement was called for.

She felt a spark of rebellion flare inside her, and decided that she wouldn’t buy into the misogyny that the company was pushing on her.  She began to rate the women as *she* thought they should be rated.  Girls who hadn’t exposed their breasts for the camera went to the top of the list.  Women who’d had boobjobs went to the bottom.  Remembering what Emma had said about the bottom girls being fired, she was careful to place herself in the middle of the list – and she generously did the same for Emma.  

Meanwhile, “Pumpkin Babymaker” – and the files confirmed that *was* her legal name now – went right at the bottom.  Bunny didn’t appreciate being threatened on her first day.

She printed the document, as she had no idea what the email address of this “Tim Bolland” might be – and then realised she had no idea where his office was either.  She stopped to ask a brunette at a nearby desk – avoiding Pumpkin – and received succinct directions.

Human Resources was on the 9th floor, which required another elevator ride – blessedly free of groping, this time – but as soon as she arrived on the 9th floor, she felt the presence of male eyes on her, sizing her up, staring at her tits and ass.

Tim Bolland’s office was easy to find – he was the head of HR, and had the most prestigious space, at the rear of the floor.  Like Emma’s office, he had a small pet door installed in the bottom of his regular door.  She could hear two male voices talking inside.

Bunny knocked.

“Come in,” said a voice from inside.

Bunny paused.  She had been about to open the regular door – but was she expected to instead use the pet door, as she had with Emma?  Why was it even there, if women weren’t required to use it?

She shook her head.  She was damned if she was going to crawl on all fours, when no one had even told her to.  She turned the regular doorknob, and stepped into the room.

===

You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division right now for only $7.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Plus your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

===

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

===

The Female Resources Division at Kavenagh & True was like no workplace Bunny had ever seen.

It was pink.  All of it.  The walls were a girly pastel pink, the carpet as a pink so pale as to be almost white, and the desks were all made of pink wood.  It was like walking into a tween girl’s bedroom.

The desks themselves looked wrong, and it took Bunny a second to realise why.  They were far lower than any office desks she was used to.  They almost looked like primary school desks. The women sitting at them were using very low-to-the ground chairs – which were also pink – and at this height their heads were only barely higher than a standing person’s waist.

The stationery was wrong too.  Where another office might have had pens and white A4 office paper, each woman in the Female Resources Division instead had a pack of children’s crayons, and a notepad of lined pink paper with a love-heart watermark.

And the women themselves!  Almost everyone she could see was platinum blonde, which made the women look like iterations of a single, pretty doll, each interchangeable with the next.  Likewise, almost every woman was either naturally buxom, or sporting a pair of fake plastic tits like Bunny’s own.  The very few non-blondes in the office – the brunettes and redheads – had the biggest tits of all, as if to compensate for their hair.

As she watched, a blonde working nearby sent a document to the printer, and rather than stand to walk to the printer, she instead crawled on all fours along the ground.  It made sense, in a way – the printer had been placed on the floor, rather than a raised stand, and it wasn’t far from the girl’s desk, and the girl was very low to the ground in her sitting position anyway.  It was just easier than standing.

The girl was wearing a very short skirt, and as she crawled, Bunny caught a look beneath it.  The girl wasn’t wearing any panties. 

Bunny blushed and looked away.

On the wall was a large poster.  It showed a blonde woman dressed in the manner of an executive – only her blouse was unbuttoned all the way down, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her large plastic tits were about to spill out into view.  She was looking up at a man, taller than she was and dressed in a way that suggested he was in a relatively junior position.  Despite the difference in their apparent ranks, everything about the woman’s posture suggested submission and desperation to please – and one of the woman’s hands was actively massaging the man’s cock through his pants.

The text on the poster read “SUCCESSFUL WOMEN SEEK MALE ATTENTION”.

Next to it was a smaller poster, which only showed text.  It read, “MEN KNOW BEST.  Sign up to the Female Mentoring Program and get the benefit of a man to help you manage your professional and personal life!”

Bunny crossed the work floor to the door to the manager’s office.  The door, too, was pink, set into a clear glass wall.  Inside, she could see a managerial desk, and behind it was a big-titted brunette in a tight white blouse.  Bunny recognised this woman – it was Emma Cooper.  She had been a feminist icon in the business world – advocating gender diversity policies while climbing the corporate ladder at Kavenagh & True – and it had always been a goal of Bunny’s to work with her.  But she had gone quiet over the last couple of years – there had been vague articles about how she had “transformed workplace culture at Kavenagh & True with the approach called ‘Emma’s Policy’” – but Bunny wasn’t aware of the details.

The nameplate over the door didn’t say “Emma Cooper”, though.  It said “Sugar-Tits – Executive-With-Udders, Female Resources”.

The woman within the office made a “come in” gesture.  Bunny tried to open the door – but it was locked.

There was a swipe pad beside the door.  It read “swipe male employee card to access”.

Bunny didn’t have an employee card, of any type.

The woman in the office pointed downwards.  Bunny let her gaze follow the motion.

There was a large dog flap installed in the foot of the door.  Large enough for a woman to crawl through.  Surely Emma didn’t mean for Bunny to…

But she clearly did.  She was motioning at the dog flap insistently.

Bunny tried the door again.  Still locked.

There was nothing for it.  At least other women in this area were crawling.  She got down on all fours – tugging at her skirt to try and make it cover her panties – and crawled like a dog through the dog flap and into Emma’s office.

It was the first time that Bunny had crawled like an animal in a professional office – but it would not be the last.

Inside, she got to her feet, and took a chair opposite Emma.

The office was as strange as the space outside it was.  The decorations on the wall included a certificate proving that “Emma Cooper” had legally changed her name to “Sugar-Tits”; certificates attesting that “Sugar-Tits” had “Grade A Udders” and was a “barely acceptable fuck”; and a certificate of attainment from the third grade of primary school that suggested that Emma had “struggled with reading comprehension”.

What had happened here?  How had the famous Emma Cooper come to… this?

Emma smiled, and leaned forward in her chair.  “You must be Fuckbunny,” she said.

Bunny blushed.  “I generally just go by Bunny,” she said. Which was true – but was technically a violation of the conditions her father had placed on her trust fund.  If she was called Fuckbunny, she was supposed to answer to it.  But she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot here.  She may have had to write her full name on her employee paperwork, but she didn’t have to reveal it to *everyone* at Kavenagh & True, did she?

Emma laughed – and Bunny thought that the laugh was a little off-key, a little forced, like Emma didn’t really think it was funny, but had to act like it was.  “No, it’s okay,” said Emma.  “It’s a good name.  It shows initiative.  A lot of girls here end up changing their names to something more feminine to help them get a promotion – the girl with the red hair just outside my office legally changed her name from Rebecca to Sweet-Lips just yesterday – but you’re starting from ahead.”

Bunny just blushed.  Girls changing their names to get a promotion?  What exactly was going on here at Kavenagh & True?

She cleared her throat.  “So, I’m supposed to be starting in a position in Human Resources.”

Emma blushed for a moment – and a look of intense shame and guilt went across her face – and then she said, “Oh, no.  Human Resources is up the corridor.  Tim runs that.  This is *female* resources, and you’ll be working here.”

It took Bunny a moment for the significance of this difference to sink in.  Her face flushed.  “Female resources aren’t human resources?  Surely you don’t mean…”

Emma passed Bunny a thin, brightly coloured book.  The title was “Humans Have Cocks: The Case For Treating Women As Animals”.  The author was “Tim Bolland”.

“Our own head of Human Resources wrote this,” said Emma.  “A lot of it is about me, and what a stupid slut I am.”  She giggled – a stupid, humiliated sound, that it seemed like she was forcing herself to make.  “It’s really embarrassing to read, but I have to read it every night for my job, so Tim told me I should put a vibe in my pussy while I read it, and he was right, it makes it much easier.  You should read it too.”

Bunny stared at Emma in horror.

“That one’s a special ‘women’s edition’ that they had printed for female resources,” added Emma.  “That means it has pictures, and they’ve replaced all the long words with easy ones.”

“This is… misogyny,” Bunny spluttered.  “This is disgusting.  This is a joke, right?”

“Tim says all women are a joke,” said Emma.

“Is someone making you say this?” asked Bunny.

“Yes,” said Emma.  “Tim is.  Tim says it’s very important that none of my employees have any respect for me, so I have to make sure they see the real me at our first meeting.”  There were tears in the corners of her eyes, but she was still smiling.

“I can’t believe that the women here are putting up with this kind of attitude!” said Bunny.

“Kavenagh & True is very prestigious,” said Emma.  “Women are very keen to work here.  And we offer… other incentives, too.  And it pays well, by women’s standards.”  She paused.  “You sound like you don’t want to work here.”

“I don’t!” declared Bunny.

“Oh,” said Emma.  “Does that mean you want to back out of the job, then?”

Bunny did want to.

Only… she couldn’t, could she?

The humiliating terms of her father’s trust fund were very clear.  If she ever made a complaint of sexual assault or harassment, or supported the complaint of another woman, or left a job due to those reasons, her money would vanish.  Not just her own money – her mother’s as well, and the house her mother lived in.  Just one of his awful, misogynistic restrictions on his daughter’s life – much like her name and her fake tits – designed to humiliate her out of nothing but spite against Bunny’s mother.

But there was another thing.  Emma Cooper was someone Bunny had respected and looked up to.  And here she was, looking like a fuckdoll, in humiliating surroundings, with tears in her eyes as she told Bunny what a sub-human bimbo she was.

Emma needed help.  She needed to be rescued.  In fact, *all* the women here at Kavenagh & True needed to be rescued.  And Bunny wanted to provide that rescue.

“No,” said Bunny, in a small voice.  “I’ll do the job.”

“Excellent!” said Emma.  “Well, I’ll get you set up and show you around.”  She went to stand, and then something dawned on her.  “Oh, wait, I almost forgot!” she said.  “We need to choose you your spirit animal!”

“My spirit animal?” asked Bunny.

“Yes,” said Emma.  “It’s one of my ideas.  We encourage every girl at Kavenagh & True to have an aspirational animal.  It’s kind of like your “house” at a private school.  We have competitions between the animals, and you can earn points and prizes.”

Emma brought out a square of cardboard with four pictures on it.  She tapped the first picture.

“You could be a Cow,” she said.  “Cows are quiet, calm, and obedient, and they focus on producing value to men.  Our cows like to make sure their breasts are big and lactating, and they always do as they’re told.”

She tapped the next picture.  “Or you could be a Bitch,” she said.  The picture was of a dog.  “Bitches are driven by their cunts.  They’re high in energy, and always desperate to be fucked, and they’ll do anything to please their masters.  They require frequent discipline and training.”  

She tapped her neck, and Bunny saw that Emma was wearing a velvet collar.  Two silver charms hung from it, one below the other.  The first had writing on it, that read “Sugar-Tits”.  The second was the silhouette of a naked big-titted woman on all fours, being sexually mounted by a large dog.  

“I’m a Bitch, for example,” said Emma.  She giggled again, that same forced, humiliated sound, and then turned back to the cardboard square.

The third picture was of a cat.  “Or you could be a Kitten,” Emma continued.  “Kittens love to be touched and stroked and cuddled.  Their favourite place is on a man’s lap, and they like to be affectionate with other Kittens while men watch.”

Emma then came to the fourth picture, and stopped.  “Oh, of course,” she laughed.  “I forgot your name!  This one’s easy.  You’re a Bunny!”  She tapped the image of a rabbit.  “Bunnies are driven by their biological urges.  They are always wanting to breed, and don’t feel right unless a man is cumming inside them!  Most of our Bunnies have sworn off birth control and never looked back.”

“I’m not…” said Bunny, overwhelmed and humiliated.  But actually, wasn’t she a Bunny?  It was her name.  And one of her father’s cruel rules was directly applicable – no birth control, ever.  Bunny had gotten around it thus far by simply never letting a man cum inside her.

“Of course you are!” said Emma.  She opened a desk drawer, and brought a velvet collar and two charms out of it.  “We had the nameplate made for you in advance, and I have a spare Bunny ready to go.”  She attached the charms to the collar, and passed it to Bunny.

The first charm read “Fuckbunny”.  The second was a Playboy-bunny logo.

It was better than the “woman being fucked by a dog” charm that Emma was wearing, Bunny supposed.  

Emma clearly was waiting for Bunny to wear the collar.  Blushing, Bunny lifted it, and fastened it around her neck.

“Do you need to throw out your birth control right now?” asked Emma.

“I, uh, don’t use any,” said Bunny, muttering in an embarrassed voice.

“Oh, excellent,” said Emma.  “Good girl.  You know, we have very excellent maternity programs.”

Bunny felt a shudder of horror go through her, but said nothing.

“Well then,” said Emma.  “Let’s go and get you started in your job, shall we?”

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If you’re enjoying this story, you can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division – all 26 chapters, plus exclusive bonus content – for only $7.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  (Click here to view in store.)

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