alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titsy, Part 16

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen

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When Titsy returned downstairs, still holding Cameron’s cum inside her cunt with one hand, Elody was waiting for her.

“Titsy!” Elody exclaimed.  “Why on Earth are you *naked*?  Do you think I want to *see* your fat cow udders?”

Alexandria was so confused.  Elody had made her strip, and taken away her clothes…

“No, mistress,” she said.  “I’m sorry for letting you see my oversized fuckbags, mistress.”

“And why are you fingering your cunt like some filthy trollop?” asked Elody.

Alexandria froze.  Was she allowed to say that Cameron had ejaculated into her, and that she was trying to hold his cum in her pussy so it wouldn’t drip out and make a mess?  Would Elody mind that her husband had fucked Alexandria?

But she could think of nothing else to say.  Though she could at least try and make it seem like Cameron hadn’t intended to cheat on Elody.

“Your husband was punishing me, as I deserved, mistress,” she said, “and I… I made him… I mean, I rubbed my pussy against him, and he…”

“What are you trying to moo at me, you silly cow?” asked Elody.

“Cameron came inside my pussy,” said Alexandria, blushing.  “I don’t want it to drip out and make a mess.”

Elody walked up to Titsy and slapped her across the face, hard.

“Ewww,” she said.  “As if my husband would have intentionally ejaculated into a cow. This is clearly all you fault, Titsy.  Here, plug your disgusting smelly cunt with this.”

She passed Alexandria a piece of thick paper.  

“This… is my diploma from business school,” Alexandria said, in shock.

“I don’t *care* what it is, Titsy,” said Elody.  “It’s just some rubbish piece of paper from your file that my husband is working on.  It doesn’t even have your name on it.  See – it says ‘Alexandria Everton’, which is some ridiculous made-up person, but *your* name is Titsy McMelons.”

“I studied for two years for this,” said Alexandria.

“Stop mooing, Titsy,” said Elody, “or I shall slap you again.  Hurry up and push that up your awful stinky cunt before my husband’s sperm runs out of you and makes a mess.”

Alexandria didn’t want to.  But she also didn’t want to find out what worse torture Elody would invent if she resisted.  And it was just a piece of paper.  She could always apply to the school for another one – although she would have to get it reissued in the name of Titsy McMelons, she supposed…

Blushing bright red, she crumpled up her business diploma, and shoved it up her twat.  The paper was hard and stiff, and it was uncomfortable wedged into her pussy, but it blocked the entrance to her fuckhole sufficiently to stop Cameron’s cum leaking out.

“Now, I’ve laid out clothes for you in the laundry, Titsy,” said Elody.  “Go dress.  We are having a guest for dinner tonight and I will be marginally less ashamed of having you in my house if you make an effort to look basically fuckable.”

The clothes in the laundry were as embarrassing as anything else that Alexandria had worn since coming here.  High heels.  A tiny black-and-white maid skirt.  No panties.  A tight black corset that stopped beneath her breasts.  The dog collar that they had bought for Titsy that day.  A black-and-white maid headband.

And for her breasts, Elody had provided something that wasn’t quite clothes, and instructions on a sheet of paper.  

The top of the paper read, “Your disgusting bloated udders are garbage, Titsy.  No one wants to see them.  Put them in the bin.”

And there were two small bins, of the size used for sanitary products in a bathroom, each with a white plastic bin liner inside it.  One bin appeared to contain a banana peel, some used cling wrap, and a couple of bottle caps.  The other contained what appeared to be a used condom and some potato peelings.  Beside the bins was a pile of elastic bands.

Elody had helpfully included a crude drawing which showed a bin liner covering a woman’s breast – with the rubbish still inside it – and an elastic band wrapped tightly around the base of the tit to hold it in place.

Titsy blushed.  No normal woman would do what Elody was asking.  It was pure degradation for the sake of degradation, intended to make Titsy disgusted and ashamed.

She could go back out and protest to Elody.  And then what would happen?  Elody would beat her tits or cunt, and then Titsy would obey anyway.  Or Elody would find something worse.  She would fill the bags with thumbtacks, or biting ants.  She would make Titsy literally get into a garbage bin.

It was better to obey.

Titsy extracted the bin liner with the condom in it and slipped it over her right tit.  The condom was wet and slimy against her skin.  The bin liner was small, and pressed tightly against her titflesh.  It was semi transparent, and when her nipple pressed against the plastic you could see it clearly.

She took an elastic band and wrapped it once, twice, three times over the base of her breast.  In order to get it tight enough to hold the bin liner in place she had to constrict her breast to the point where it hurt, and it caused her titflesh to bulge lewdly within the liner.

Then she repeated the process with the other one, cringing as the cold wet banana peel pressed against her boob on one side and the hard edge of a bottle cap dug into it on the other.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she hated herself.  The way the elastic bands caused her breasts to bulge made them look even bigger than normal.  They were huge and obscene.  No wonder Elody was so disgusted by them.  Titsy found it hard to believe she had ever looked at herself in the mirror before and thought her breasts were an okay size.  If only they were smaller, maybe all these things wouldn’t be happening to her.

She went back out to make dinner, with her breasts in garbage bags.

She prepared three plates.  Elody off-handedly explained that Titsy would eat the left-overs out of the trough in the backyard, as she had done the night before.  

“Our guest, Katy, will be here soon, Titsy,” said Elody, as Titsy cooked.  “When she arrives, I want you to be sure to introduce yourself as a stupid big-titted cow, and apologise for your breasts.  Use your own words and explain why you needed to apologise.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress,” said Titsy unhappily.

She went to the kitchen and began preparing a dinner with the bin bags over her breasts.

And soon afterwards, the front doorbell was ringing, and Titsy was hurrying to answer it.

She didn’t want to be doing this.  She didn’t want to be opening the door to a stranger with her tits in garbage bags, with elastic bands around their bases.  But she didn’t seriously think of doing anything other than what she knew Elody wanted to do.

Except when she opened the door, it wasn’t a stranger.

The guest was Katy O’Riordan.  Titsy had gone to school with her.  Titsy stared at Katy’s long red hair, her lithe body, her small (appropriately-proportioned) breasts which rested beneath a light gown that spoke of taste and wealth – and for a moment Titsy didn’t know what to say.

The worst thing was that Katy clearly didn’t recognise her.  She just stood, staring at Titsy – and her breasts – clearly wondering what was happening.

Titsy – or rather Alexandria – had shared classes with this woman.  She’d been on the cheerleading team with her.  She’d once stolen her boyfriend, and – unless she misremembered – she may have mocked Katy once or twice in public with the name “Katy No-Tits”.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Titsy said, in a small voice.  “My name is Titsy, and I’m a stupid big-titted cow.  I’m very sorry for my bloated ugly fuckbags, which are disgusting to look at and make me behave like a slut.”

Katy burst out in laughter – a high, trilling cruel sound.

“Oh my God,” she said, “Elody said she’d found a new cow, but you’re so *pathetic*.  You’ve even got your tits in garbage bags.  How darling.”

A *new* cow.  Once again the implication that Elody had had a plaything prior to Titsy.

Katy pushed past Titsy into the house.

“Elody, are you there?” she called out.  “I love what you’ve done with the pig-woman.”

Elody can gliding down the stairs, and she met her guest in the lounge.  They embraced.

“Katy, sweetie,” said Elody.  “You look *hot*.  Cameron’s eyes will practically spin.”

Katy giggled.  “For the last time, Elody, I am *not* fucking your husband just because you can’t keep him satisfied.”

Elody pouted, but it was an amused pout.  “No woman can satisfy a man, Katy.  They think with their dicks, they really do, even one as lovely as Cameron.  Do you know, today he put his dick into the household cow?”

They both turned to look at Titsy, and Katy wrinkled her nose.

“Ew,” she said.  “It would be like fucking an *animal*.”

“I know!” said Elody.  “I don’t know how he can even get it up for something with udders that grossly oversized.  I suppose he closes his eyes.”

“At least she has them covered,” said Katy.

“That was Titsy’s idea,” said Elody.  “It was quite insistent that its fuckhandles belonged in the bin.”  She paused, and then added, “Did you know, it used to think it was *people*?  A businesswoman, no less.  Some whore named Alexandria Everton.”

Titsy cringed, and her face blushed bright red, as Katy’s eyes widened with recognition.

“Alexandria Everton?” she said.  “Oh, fuck me dead, it *is* you, isn’t it?  Alexandria Bitchboobs, the Queen Cunt of Morton High.”

Before Titsy could reply, Katy took out her phone and took a picture of Titsy.

“Did you know it’s the high school reunion in a month?” she said.  “People are going to love seeing this picture, Alex.”

“Please, no!” said Titsy.  “Please!  This is just… temporary.  Just until I get out of a tough spot.  Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Its name isn’t Alex,” said Elody.  “Its name is Titsy.  We have the paperwork and everything.  It’s really quite a disgusting slut.  Do you know, after my husband put his cock in it, it was desperate to keep his cum in its fuckhole, presumably because it wanted to get pregnant with a calf?  So it scrunched up its own business degree and used it as a cunt plug.  Can you believe it, Katy?”

“Oh, this is so good,” said Katy.  “This is like a personal fantasy.  This is just the funniest thing I’ve seen in years.  Elody, you are a *goddess*, I swear.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetie,” said Elody.  “Perhaps a demi-goddess, though.  I had no idea that you *knew* the cow.  Do you want to have some fun with it, before dinner?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Katy.  “What is it called?  Boobsy?”

“Boobsy was the last one, sweetie,” said Elody.  “This one is Titsy, but you can just call it slut or cow if it suits you.  Go wild – just leave it in suitable shape to serve dinner.”

“All right, Titsy,” said Katy.  “You don’t want me to tell people at the school reunion about how the Supreme Skank Alexandria Everton is running around with garbage bags on her tits, do you?”

“No, ma’am,” said Titsy desperately.  “Please.”

“All right,” said Katy.  “Then you need to tell me how I should punish you for the way you acted at high school.  You stole Jim Galish from me.  You acted like an absolute cunt.  You made fun of my friends and you called me – what was it?”

“Katy No-Tits,” said Titsy, in a small voice.

“That’s right,” said Katy.  “Because you had giant mutant fuckbags from basically the second you hit puberty, and they were so large it was literally impossible for boys to look anywhere else.”

In Titsy’s memory, they hadn’t been *that* big – she had thought herself buxom but not overdeveloped – but if she had had normal tits, then it was hard to explain why they were now in garbage bags, so Katy’s argument seemed persuasive.

“I’m sorry,” said Titsy.

“Well then, show it,” said Katy.  “I want you to tell me how I should punish you for being such a whore-bitch.  You get one chance to propose a punishment, and if it’s not severe enough then I’ll share this picture at the reunion.”

At school, everyone had loved Alexandria.  Everyone except the girls she bullied.  It had been a source of constant satisfaction to have graduated knowing that everyone wanted to either be her, or fuck her.  At the thought of the entire school seeing her as she was now – degraded, submissive and humiliated – she died a little inside.  

She had to keep this a secret.

“You should slap my face,” she said, “as many times as you want to.  And… you should hurt my oversized fuckmelons.  Mistress likes to beat my deformed tits with a shoe.  And you should kick me in the cunt.  And then… you should make me lick your pussy… like the disgusting lesbian I am.”

Was it enough?  Would Katy keep her secret?  Or should she have offered to let Katy walk her around the block nude on a leash as well?  Maybe she should have suggested that Katy torture her cunt…

But Katy was laughing.

“Oh, Alex,” she said.  “I would have settled for a bare-bottomed spanking.  Elody really has taught you your place.  It’s incredible.”  

She caught her breath, and then said, “Yes.  Yes.  That will absolutely be sufficient.”

And then she stepped forward and slapped Titsy across the face.

===

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Titsy caters for one of Elody's female friends.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titsy, Part 15

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen

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When Elody and Titsy got home, Elody told Titsy to strip.

“Those clothes will need a wash, Titsy,” she said.  “You’ve got your sluttiness all over them.”

Titsy reluctantly undressed in the hallway of the mansion, and passed her clothes to Elody.

“Very good, Titsy,” said Elody.  “Now, run upstairs and apologise to Cameron. And ask him to punish you.”

Titsy felt herself blush, because she didn’t understand.

“Apologise for what, mistress?” she said.

“Really, Titsy, you are stupid even for a cow,” said Elody.  “You are going to apologise for your oversized mutant tits.  And for being a stupid animal.  And for making me waste my day on saving you from the police and then registering you under an appropriate name.”

She passed Titsy her new identification documents.

“Give him these too,” she said.  “Oh, and Titsy?  Don’t just repeat my words like some trained parrot.  Find your own words to apologise for what’s wrong with you.  Make it sound sincere.  When you’re done you can come downstairs and prepare the dinner.  Remember to carry those oversized milk balloons with your hands, Titsy – I don’t want to hear the disgusting noise of them flopping around as you walk.”

Titsy realised that she couldn’t carry the documents while also cupping her tits, so she put the documents in her mouth, lifted one of her naked tits in each hand, and went up to the stairs to Cameron’s office.

“Ah, there you are,” said Cameron, as she entered.  “I was just about finished for the day.  I was wondering where you and Elody had gotten to.”

He took the documents from her mouth and looked at them.

“A change of name?” he said.  “Titsy McMelons.  It suits you.  Well, I’ll see about making this change in the work I’m doing for you.  Was there anything else, Titsy?”

Titsy paused before replying.  And then, finally, she said:

“Cameron, this is all getting out of hand.  Your wife treats me… like an animal.  She has me *naked*, for heaven’s sake.  Please, I know I’m in trouble, but I deserve some dignity.  Can’t you talk to her?”

Cameron sighed.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Titsy,” he said.  “If you don’t want my help, I suppose I’ll just call the police now and say they can pick up your financial documents from my house.”  

He reached for his mobile phone.

Titsy’s eyes went wide.  She couldn’t go back to the police!  Especially not after today!

“No!” she said.  “No!  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.  It’s really humiliating but – I guess it’s just for a little while.  I’m sorry.  Pretend I didn’t say anything.  Please.”

Cameron looked at her, his phone still in his hand.

“Titsy, you have to understand I love my wife a great deal,” he said.  “I’m very grateful to have a young, fit, beautiful wife like Elody.  Otherwise I might have ended up with a big-uddered bankrupt bitch like you.  Can you imagine, if I’d been married to you?  I’d be in trouble with the police now as well, and I would have had to spend every day of my life looking at those giant fuckbags and listening to the bitchy mooing noises that come out of your mouth.  Would that have been fair, Titsy?”

Titsy was shocked at the insulting things he was saying – but it was hard to argue with them.  If she had had a husband, she *would* have ruined his life.  Cameron *was* lucky to have married Elody instead of her.

“And since you came into my house, Titsy,” continued Cameron, “you have done nothing but displease my wife and piss on my floor.”

Titsy wanted to once again complain that it was squirt, not piss, but Cameron seemed in no mood to appreciate that difference.

“So I will be nice to you on this one occasion,” Cameron concluded, “and pretend you did not say the things you just said, which I *know* my wife would not have wanted you to say, and let you try again.  Does that sound fair?”

Titsy bowed her head.

“Yes, master,” she said in a small voice.

“Good cow,” said Cameron.  “Now, what did you come up here to say?”

“I… wanted to apologise for my giant cow-udders,” said Titsy.  “They’re deformed and unnatural and really gross and I’m sorry you have to look at them.  And I’m sorry I’m such a stupid cunt who… who pisses on your floor and doesn’t get anything right.  And I’m sorry that I tried to run away today like an ungrateful bitch, and got stopped by the police because I look like a whore, and I’m sorry that Elody had to waste her time on rescuing me from the consequences of my own stupidity.”

She paused, and then added, as Elody had instructed: “And you should punish me.”

“I don’t accept your apology, Titsy,” said Cameron.  “You should continue feeling guilty about those things.  And as for punishment, come into the bedroom.”

He stood, and led her down the corridor to the master bedroom.  Titsy followed, still holding her tits in her hands.  Holding her tits like this made her think about how *heavy* they were.  Was Elody right?  She had always thought she was a normal level of buxom, but now she couldn’t help but feel that her tits *were* monstrous and oversized.

Cameron entered the bedroom.  Then he unzipped his fly and took out his cock, which was erect.  Titsy’s eyes immediately locked onto it, with fear and anticipation.

Cameron sat on the bed, his cock sticking up from his lap.

“Come and lie across my lap, Titsy,” he said.  “Ass up.”

She nervously did as she was told.  When she first took the position, she could feel Cameron’s dick poking against her belly, but Cameron shifted her body with his hands until her pussy was directly over his cock.  Then he reached underneath her and used his fingers to part her cuntlips, so that the tip of his cock was between her labia, nestled against the entrance to her fuckhole.

Titsy whimpered.  She knew that this was sexual abuse.  She could see what was about to happen.  Cameron was going to rape her.  But she was so scared of being thrown back to the police, or naked on the street, that she was eager to please Cameron.  And the truth was that, after all the sexual activity and humiliation and degradation today, her pussy was wet, and throbbing eagerly at the touch of Cameron’s dick.

“Say you deserve this because of your disgusting tits, Titsy,” said Cameron.

“I deserve this because of my disgusting tits, master,” said Titsy obediently.

And, as she did, Cameron hit her on the ass with his hand.

WHACK.

The blow drove her cunt down, directly onto Cameron’s dick.  She gasped as she felt it slide into her fucktunnel – and then immediately back out again.

“Again,” he told her.

“I deserve this because of my disgusting tits,” said Titsy.

WHACK!

And again his cock fucked its way into her cunt, and out again.

She didn’t need to be told what came next.

“I deserve this because of my disgusting tits.”

WHACK.

“I deserve this because of my disgusting tits.”

WHACK.

“I deserve this because of my disgusting tits.”

WHACK.

And on each whack, Cameron’s dick drove deep inside her.

The spanks hurt – but they felt good, too, a deep thuddy vibration that travelled through her buttocks into her groin.  She was moaning on each penetration of Cameron’s penis.  She was being spank-fucked, and it felt good.

After twenty spanks, Cameron said, “Just say that you’re a cunt and a cow.”

“I’m a cunt.”

WHACK.

“I’m a cow.”

WHACK.

“I’m a cunt.  I’m a cow.  I’m a cunt.  I’m a cow.  I’m a cunt.  I’m a cow.”

Somewhere in that, she felt herself orgasm, and orgasm again.  She didn’t know if she squirted, but she thought not – Cameron surely would have reacted if she’d bathed his pants and bed in a shower of cunt-juices.

The pain accumulated in her ass, and she thought if it went on much longer she might cry.  Surely her ass was bruised by now.  But she deserved this, because of her disgusting tits, and because she was a cunt and a cow.

And then, suddenly, Cameron stopped, and his body shook, and Titsy realised that he was cumming into her pussy.  

“Thank you, master,” she said, unbidden, and she didn’t know if she was thanking him for forgiving her earlier stupidity, or punishing her, or for using her as his masturbation aid.  Maybe all three.

Cameron didn’t acknowledge her thanks.  Instead, he roughly pushed her off his lap, so that she fell to the floor in an undignified heap.  Then he took his cock in one hand and wiggled it at her.

Titsy didn’t need to be told what her duty was.  She climbed back to her knees and immediately took his cock in her mouth to clean it off.  With one hand, she held her pussy, trapping Cameron’s cum inside her so it wouldn’t drip on the bedroom floor and make a mess that she would no doubt be required to clean up.

Kneeling here with Cameron’s cock in her mouth, Titsy reflected that she was not without stress right now.  She was stressed about whether she would please Cameron, about whether Elody would punish her for something else.  She was stressed about her financial situation, and about how long she would be trapped and degraded in this house.

And yet, at the same time, there was something so *simple* about kneeling and cleaning Cameron’s cock with her tongue.  His cum tasted good, and his dick was so reassuringly warm and hard in her mouth.  It was far easier to suck his cock than to make business decisions, or court investors, or file regulatory paperwork.  It was easy – and because it was easy, it felt good.

“Good cow,” said Cameron softly, stroking her hair as she sucked.  And then, finally, when he decided his cock was clean enough, he put his hand flat against her face and pushed her off his dick.

She looked up at him, seeking further approval, but he was already zipping his pants and standing.

“On the bed there, you will find some paperwork, Titsy,” said Cameron.  “It’s a list of social media platforms and other websites.  I want you to fill it out with your account names and login details.  I’ll need to go through and align them with the story that we’re telling about your financial difficulties.”

“I could just post what you want…” offered Titsy.

“No, it’s best if I do it,” said Cameron.  “Don’t leave any out.  I’m not sure if I’ll have time to punish you if it you get it wrong, but I’m sure Elody will be very creative in my place.”

Cameron left the room, and Titsy crawled to the paperwork.

It would be her entire online presence that she was turning over to Cameron, so that he could – what?  He hadn’t really said.

And yet she had no choice.  She could do it, like a good little cow, or she could refuse, and then Elody would torture her, and she’d end up doing it anyway.

Still holding Cameron’s cum in her pussy with one hand, she used the other to fill out the form.

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Titsy receives a punishment from Cameron.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titsy, Part 11

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

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Alexandria binned the diaper, soaked as it was with her squirt, and nervously headed naked to the back yard.

Cameron and Elody had blessedly high fences, but their house was a mansion on a block of mansions, and neighbouring houses on all three sides were high enough to overlook the yard.  Alexandria had been so confused and humiliated when she had been out here yesterday washing the windows with her tits that she hadn’t considered whether she might be watched – and anyway, she had had her breasts pressed against the glass – but now she looked up at the neighbouring windows nervously, wondering who might be looking.

The sunlight reflected brightly off the windowpanes.  If there was anyone there, Alexandria wouldn’t be able to see them.

There was nothing for it but to hope for the best.

She took the garden hose and turned it on.  She didn’t want to wash herself with a hose in the back yard – like an animal – but disobeying Elody never seemed to go well.  She just had to do this until Alexandria gave her some clothes, and then she could escape this humiliating nightmare she had found herself in.

She splashed some water from the hose on her body, and squeaked.  It was cold!  She felt her nipples hardening as goosebumps broke out on her skin.  But she had to endure, so she closed her eyes, and turned the hose directly on her body, soaking her face, her shoulders, her tits, her stomach, her arms and her legs.  She rubbed at herself with her hand, trying to rub off any hint of sweat, of sex – and, in the case of her tits, of milk.

Then she had to complete the other part of Elody’s instruction.  She looked at the hose nozzle.  It was unusually thin and tapered for a garden hose, with a rounded end.  She realised it would fit very easily into her cunt and, with a bit of work, into her anus.  She wondered if the nozzle had been bought specifically for that suitability.  Did Elody ever use it on herself that way?

Or… Alexandria remembered Elody’s passing reference to “the last cow”.  Had there been other girls here before?  Girls who Elody had mistreated in the same ways she mistreated Alexandria?

She put those thoughts aside, turned the hose down to a more modest flow, and then pushed the hose into her cunt.  She immediately found herself squealing.  It felt so strange, her cunt being forcefully filled with water.  After a few seconds she couldn’t bear it anymore, and pulled the hose back out.  Water gushed from her cunt.  She had to hope that would be clean enough for Elody.

Then it was time for her ass.  She turned the hose off completely, then bent over at the waist and slowly worked the nozzle into her anus. Alexandria had rarely had anal sex, and it took some work to convince her sphincter to relax and admit the foreign object.  Once the tip was lodged inside her, it felt humiliating and *wrong*.  She struggled not to cry.

With one hand, she turned the hose back on, just a little.

Immediately she felt her rectum begin to fill with water.  Alexandria had never given herself an enema before, and never felt this sensation.  She whimpered, feeling her full rectum pressing against her bladder, and when she could take it no more she pulled the hose out of her ass.

The resulting flush of water was hardly clean, and so with humiliation Alexandria repeated the procedure.  Her anus had never been so clean before, she realised.

Once it was done, she re-entered the house.  She found a towel waiting for her in the laundry, along with a set of clothes.  She gratefully dried herself off, and then examined the clothes on offer.

At first she thought it was the same uniform as yesterday.  A maid outfit, crotchless panties, a bra lined with cruel tacks, a bonnet, and locking high heels.  But when she put it on – wincing as the tacks bit into her tits, agonisingly painful even though they were in no danger of drawing blood – she discovered this version had a slightly different cut.  The hem was a little higher, showing off her butt cheeks and the lowest part of her groin even when she was standing straight.  The bodice was a little lower and deeper, showing off more of her titflesh.  And there was a thin black collar, with the word TITSY picked out on the front in silver.

How had Elody had a collar with her name on it prepared so fast?  There was no point in speculating.  She put the collar on, and was surprised by how comfortable its interior – lined with a thin, soft fur – felt against her neck.

Elody had also provided a makeup kit and a brush, with the helpful note, “Make yourself look less ugly, Titsy.  I want you to look vaguely fuckable.”

Alexandria blushed, but did as she was told.  She made herself up as if she were going on a date with a man she very much wanted to fuck – bright red lipstick, shadowed eyes, rouge.  It wasn’t appropriate makeup for a workplace, but she knew that was exactly what Elody wanted from her.

She had thought she had looked like a “porn maid” yesterday, but when she looked at herself now in the mirror on the laundry wall she saw nothing but a big-titted fuckdoll.

A fuck-*cow* she corrected herself.  That was what Elody would call her.  A disgusting big-uddered fuck-cow.  A grotesque whore with oversized mutant fuckbags.

And as she stared at her tits in the mirror, entirely without thinking about it, her hand went to her pussy.  With the high skirt hem and the crotchless underwear, she didn’t even have to adjust her clothes to find her wet slit, and sink her finger into it, searching for her clitoris, rubbing it eagerly…

She jumped.  What the fuck was she doing?  Masturbating in the laundry?  Getting off from being dressed up in a humiliating outfit for the amusement of a cruel woman?  Was she *insane*?

She hurriedly jerked her hand away from her crotch and re-entered the main part of the house.

She knew she should find Elody now, to report.  Or just get started on making breakfast, which was the next task that Elody had set for her.

But if she did that, she’d just get caught in another cycle of demeaning tasks, cruel punishment, and domination.

She had to act now, while she had the chance.  She was dressed like a slut, but it was better than being naked.

She ran for the front door of the house, opened it, and escaped out onto the street.

The last time she had been out here, it had been night, and she had been cycling on the demeaning child’s tricycle.  Now it was daylight, and she was free to run, so she ran.

It was run that lasted precisely half a block.  There were still seven-inch stripper heels buckled to her feet, and Alexandria had very little practice in walking in them, let alone running in them.  She tumbled to the grass, bruising her knees.

Her first instinct upon landing was to crawl.  She was sure that Elody or Cameron would be chasing her, and she wanted to get away from their house as quickly as she could, by any means she could.  

But she told herself she was being silly.  She dusted herself off, stood, and continued onwards – walking now, as far as she could safely manage in the ridiculously high heels.

She wasn’t sure where she was going.  Not back to her house – it wasn’t hers anymore, since the government had seized it.  But surely she must have other friends – friends who would let her stay with them, without requiring her to be their maid, slave and sex-puppet.  Friends who wouldn’t be repulsed by her oversized tits.

She set out vaguely in the direction of the local shops.  There was a payphone there – although Alexandria hadn’t quite thought through how she would pay for a call.

In the end it didn’t matter, because she didn’t make it anywhere near the shops.

About five blocks from Cameron and Elody’s house, there was a brief whoop of a police siren from behind her, and a moment later a police patrol car with two uniformed officers inside pulled up alongside her.

“Hey there, sugar,” said the cop on the passenger side, leaning out the window.  “Where are you off to this morning?”

“The shops,” said Alexandria, truthfully.

“Uh-huh,” said the cop.  “Banking some money from a john, are you?”

Alexandria didn’t understand what he meant.

The car pulled to a stop, and both officers got out and approached her.

“I think you’d better face the car and put your hands behind your back, sugar,” said the cop who had been the driver.

“What?  Why?” asked Alexandria.

“Don’t play dumb with us, sweetie,” said the first cop.  His name badge read “RAMONE”.  “We know a streetwalker when we see one.”

“No!” protested Alexandria.  “I’m not…”

But the second cop – whose badge read “BOSKIN” – grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around, and slammed her against the door of the police car.

“I’d encourage you to comply, sweetcheeks,” he said, as he pushed her hard against the cold metal.

“You don’t understand!” protested Alexandria.  “I’m a maid.”

“Sure you are,” said Ramone.  “A fuck-maid.  All dressed up to clean the fuck-mansion.”

Boskin pulled on Alexandria’s hands, and she heard a click as he cuffed them behind her back.  Then his hands began to wander up and down her body – squeezing her tits briefly, then patting her stomach and sides, before moving down over her butt, her sides, her groin…

She squeaked as his fingers found her bare pussy, spread her pussy lips, and then slipped into her fuckhole.

“Crotchless panties,” reported Boskin.  “Definitely a whore.”

“You probably had a rich john last night, honey,” said Ramone, “but he should have sent you home in a taxi.  Rich folks around here don’t like seeing whores on their streets.  It brings down the property values.”

“I’m not a whore!” wailed Alexandria.

Boskin fucked his fingers in and out of her pussy, and then pulled them out and showed them to Ramone.

“Jesus, she’s dripping with fuckhoney,” he said.

“Check her ass,” replied Ramone.

Boskin worked his hand under Alexandria’s panties and shoved a finger, lubricated with cunt juices, into Alexandria’s anus.  She tried her best to resist, but when she felt it penetrating her sphincter she gave an involuntary slutty moan.

Both the cops laughed.

“She’s a whore, all right,” said Ramone.

Boskin pulled his finger out of her ass, then lifted his hand to her face and pushed it against her lips.  

“Clean me off,” he demanded.

Alexandria had no choice but to open her mouth and let his fingers in.  She blushed at the mixed taste of her pussy and ass, but obediently sucked her juices off the cop’s fingers until he was clean.

“What’s your name, sugar?” asked Ramone.

Alexandria opened her mouth to say “Alexandria” – and then paused.  They hadn’t recognised her – but if they realised they had Alexandria Everton, business tycoon, dressed up as a slutty maid, who knew what they would do?  Tell the press?  And besides, there were those ongoing investigations of her business, and the threat of criminal charges.  Did she want those investigators to know that she’d been arrested for prostitution?  Did she want to fight the charges from a jail cell?

So instead she gave them another name – and in her confused, humiliated state, she used the first one that came to her mind.

“Titsy,” she said.  And then blushed, realising what she had said.

The cops laughed.

“Titsy, huh?” asked Boskin.  “Did your mother give you that name?”

Well, obviously not.  No woman would name their daughter that.  But she couldn’t admit to giving a false name, so…

“No,” she said.  “I had it changed.”

“Why?” asked Boskin.

“Because…” – she struggled to think of a reason, but there was only one that made sense.  “Because of my big tits.”  Her blush deepened.

“Last name?” asked Boskin.

And now that she had told them she had deliberately had her name changed to Titsy, she was stuck for a last name.  She couldn’t say “Everton”.  And if she had changed her first name to Titsy, then…

“McMelons,” she said.  “Titsy McMelons.”

The cops laughed uproariously.

“That’s priceless,” wheezed Ramone, slapping his knee.  “Titsy McMelons.  I love it.”

“Hey,” said Alexandria, “shouldn’t you be reading me my rights or something?”

Boskin shoved his fingers back between her legs.  They found her clitoris, and he pinched it, hard, making her yelp.

“Whores don’t have rights, sugar,” he said.  “Best you learn that, if you’re going to whore in this town.”

“What are you talking about, Boskin?” asked Ramone.  “Sure they have rights.  They have the right to be raped.  They have the right to be treated like fucktoys.  They have the right to be slapped.  They have the right to swallow when I cum in their whore mouth.  Right?”

They both laughed.

“Listen, Titsy,” said Boskin.  “Here’s how it works.  We take you down to the station.  We have a little fun with you, and you show us how you’re sorry to be a whore, and how much respect you have for a man in uniform.  Then you get your phone call.  Your daddy or your lawyer or your pimp or whatever can come pick you up, and we drop charges, and you make sure you’re not caught in the rich folk district again.  Understand?”

Alexandria understood what they were saying.  They were going to take her to the police station and… rape her.

But afterwards they would let her go.  And not charge her.

“Yes, sir,” she said.  “I understand.”

“Good bitch,” laughed Boskin.  “Get your sweet ass in the car, and let’s go have some fun with you.”

Alexandria did as she was told – and soon the car was rolling away, with “Titsy McMelons” cuffed in the back, on her way to a police gang-rape.

===

Want more All These Roadworks at the cheapest possible price?  Check out the Collector’s Bundles, each of which brings you ten books – over 600 pages of red-hot erotica – for only $29.99 USD! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Alexandria attempts her escape from Elody - only to run into unsympathetic police.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 21

(Click here to view the 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

===

“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 Hathton 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…

===

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.)

=== 

Bunny betrays a fellow female employee.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Workplace Culture, Part 16

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen

(CW: Piss)

===

Ciaran waited until he received the report from Alison before taking his next step.

But soon enough, there it was in his inbox – an official report, on Horrocks, Clinton & Quayle letterhead, signed by Alison, in which she recontextualised the sexual assault she had been subjected to on the morning train as something she had initiated and enjoyed.

He read her description of how she had sluttishly pushed her ass into a stranger’s face, removed her panties in public, and basically forced him to rub her clit until she had orgasmed, and how she had rewarded him by giving him her skirt and then stood there whorishly bare-cunted on the train until Ciaran had forced her to get dressed again.

It was enough to ruin Alison’s life all by itself, let alone in combination with the stack of other damning paperwork and images he had compiled of her.

And the best thing was that he knew she had masturbated while typing it – rubbed her cunt while remembering how she had been sexually abused in public.

When he was done reading, he prepared Alison a tuna sandwich.  He laid out the bread, and the tuna, and then masturbated while thinking of Alison’s humiliation, until finally he ejaculated onto the bread and tuna.  He used the top slice of bread to wipe his cock clean, and then closed the tuna-and-cum sandwich.

Next he took out a long, tall glass, and pissed in it, until it was nearly full of his urine.  He added a small amount of orange juice to it from his office fridge.  Then he took a pill and crumbled it up into the pissy drink.  The pill was basically just a painkiller, but one that clouded thinking and judgement.

Then he took the sandwich and drink to Alison.

He didn’t bother to knock, of course.  He just walked in, and was pleased to catch Alison with her hand on her pussy.  She jerked it away as soon as he entered, blushing.

He passed her the food and drink.

“Have these,” he told her.  “And then I’ll take you to your appointment.”

“What appointment?” she asked.

“Have you forgotten already?” he said, shaking his head.  “You really are a dumb big-titted baby.  It’s a good thing you have a man to help you, or else you wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

She opened her mouth, intending to object to this misogynistic statement – but it echoed so strongly with the words that were already in her head.  It felt *right*.

So instead she just said, “Thank you.”  

And then, after a moment of silence, she said, “I’m sorry, sir.  I know I’m dumb.  What appointment?”

“The one for your pissing problem,” said Ciaran.  “You know – the way you keep wetting yourself and pissing in public like a whore?”

It didn’t feel fair to Alison.  Before this week, she hadn’t wet herself since she was a child.  And it was Ciaran who had told her to piss in public. 

But… she had done it.  Normal women didn’t piss in public just because a man told them to.

“I’m taking you to a specialist to help you,” he told her.  “Eat the sandwich, then drink all the drink.  It’s got electrolytes in it for hydration.  The specialist will want you to have a full bladder.”

Alison didn’t like this at all. She didn’t want to see a specialist.  She didn’t need a specialist.  But she was aware that Ciaran was already doing her a huge favour by not reporting the way she had wet herself in the office.  She would be sent packing, humiliated, if that information got out.  So she needed to do what Ciaran was suggesting.  

“Thank you,” she said.

Anyway, she could explain to the specialist how this was all confused, and that she didn’t need any help.

“Eat up,” said Ciaran.

And Alison did, eating the cum-soaked sandwich.  She didn’t even wrinkle her nose.  She was becoming used to the taste of cum in her food, without knowing that was what it was.

“And the drink,” said Ciaran.

This was a test.  The drink was mostly piss.  Alison would definitely taste it.  She would definitely think it didn’t taste good.  Would she know what it was?  Would she dare to challenge him over it?

She took a sip.

“It tastes funny,” she complained.

“It’s not meant to taste good,” he told her.  “It’s for hydration.  Just try to swallow it all.”

And she did.  She wrinkled her nose, and drank an entire glass of Ciaran’s piss without further complaint.

It was what she deserved.  Before he was done with her, she would be his toilet.  He would see that all of his piss ended up inside the sexy little bitch, one way or another.

“Come along now,” he told her once she was done, and she was forced to scurry along after him, in her too-small skirt with no panties, through the office, down the elevator, to the parking garage.

Once again he was parked in an isolated corner of the parking basement.  He didn’t unlock the doors, so that Alison was forced to stand awkwardly outside the car.

“Wear this,” he told her, and handed her a large bulldog clip, of the sort used for bundles of paper.

Alison felt stupid again.  “Wear it where?” she asked.

“On your cunt,” he told her.  “Clamp your cunt closed.  I don’t want you pissing in my car.  This won’t stop you from wetting yourself by itself, but it will help.”

“But… it will *hurt*,” complained Alison.

By now the drug in her glass of piss was taking effect, and she could feel her head becoming clouded.  It was harder to think.

“You are *not* pissing in my car,” reiterated Ciaran.  “Put it on.”

And Alison obeyed.  She reached down and grabbed her cunt lips, pulling them forward and together, and then she clamped them with the clip as if they were a thick pile of photocopying.  She squealed as the clamp went on.

“Now take off your clothes,” he told her, “and pile them on the passenger seat.”

Alison was tired of not understanding what Ciaran wanted – and scared to keep asking for explanations.  She fidgeted awkwardly.

“For heaven’s sake,” said Ciaran.  “You’re going to sit on your clothes.  If you lose control of your bladder in my car, your clothes will soak it up and protect my seat.  It’s insurance for me, and an incentive for you to control yourself until we get to our destination.”

She fidgeted some more.

“NOW, Alison,” he snapped, in a sharp tone, “or I’ll show your reports on your sexual misbehaviour to my managers.”

She squeaked, and began to undress.  Soon she was nude except for her high heels, with her clothes piled on the passenger seat.

Ciaran unlocked the car and let Alison get in.

“Sir,” said Alison nervously, “it’s day-time.  People will *see* me.”

Ciaran took his own seat on the driver’s side.

“Lie down,” he said, “so you’re below window level.  Put your head on my lap.  I’ll drive carefully.”

She wiggled into that position, her ass on the passenger seat, and her body laying across the gap between chairs, behind the gearstick, her shoulder beside Ciaran’s leg, and her head in his lap.

Almost immediately, Ciaran’s cock stiffened and pressed against Alison’s face through his pants.  She instinctively pulled away, but Ciaran grabbed her hair and pulled her back, until her lips were pressed against his hard dick, with only the fabric of his pants and underpants between them.

“Don’t wiggle,” he warned her.  “This is a little dangerous, and I’m only doing it to protect *your* modesty.  So work with me, and stay still.”

He used his hand to press her face a little harder against his cock.  And then he started the car.

He deliberately took a long route to his destination, to enjoy Alison in her helpless, submissive position.  He deliberately flexed his cock regularly, so she could feel it twitching against her face.  He could feel the pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock.  He knew it was soaking through his underwear.  

Soon it would soak through the front of his trousers, too, leaving a wet patch.  He would have to change his pants when he got back to the office, but in the mean time, Alison would feel it – and taste it.  A wetness against her lips.  She might think it was just the moisture of her own slobber, given how her mouth was pressed against his crotch.  Or she might know what it was – and know that it was her fault, that she had caused it, that it was a natural consequence of her having to lie nude with her head in his lap because she couldn’t control her bladder.

He talked to her – both to pass the time, and because when she replied, he could feel her lips moving against his dick, and he could press on the back of her head so that the tent in his pants could push inside her mouth slightly, and he could feel, through the fabric, the pleasure of her lips closing on the very tip of his dick.

“So when was the first time you raped someone?” he said.

She squeaked.

“I mean, today wasn’t the first time, on the train, right?” he said.  “You looked like you knew what you were doing.  Do you do that often?”

“No!” she objected.  (He pushed his cock into her mouth as she opened her mouth to say this, and didn’t pull it out until he felt her lips on it.)

“Did you plan to rape that guy?” he asked, “or were you just too horny to think straight?”

“I didn’t…” Alison said.  She was so confused.  The clamp on her cunt hurt…

“You didn’t what?” asked Ciaran.  

“I didn’t…” she said again.  She wanted to say she didn’t rape him.  But she had confessed that she had, at length, in writing.  “I didn’t plan it,” she finished lamely.

He pushed his cock back into her mouth as she said this, and held her down on it until he was sure she was tasting his pre-cum as it soaked through his pants.

“You didn’t plan it?” he said.  “So you just lost control and started thinking with your cunt and raped a guy as a result?”

He didn’t let her answer that, holding her down on his dick to prevent her speaking.

“Tell me,” he said, “is it all women who think with their cunts, or is it just you?”

He released her so that she could answer.

She didn’t answer, though.

“It would be pretty embarrassing if it was just you, right?” he said.  “You’re supposed to be protecting women in our workplace, but actually you’re this weird rapey slut who thinks with her cunt.  That would be very humiliating, if it was just a problem with you, if you were just, by yourself, the worst possible woman.”

She made a moan of distress.

“It’s okay,” he said.  “You can say it’s all women.  You don’t have to be politically correct here.  I’m not going to report you.  It’s all women, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Sorry,” he said, “I can’t hear you.  Use your words, Alison.”

“It’s all women,” she said quietly.

“All women what?” he asked.

“All women think with their cunts…” whispered Alison.

He stroked her hair.  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said.  “Say it again, but louder.”

“All women think with their cunts,” said Alison, louder.

“Again.”

“All women think with their cunts!” said Alison, slightly louder than a conversational level.

“Good girl,” said Ciaran.  “So what I want you to do, from now on, whenever you’re making a decision, I want you to think to yourself, am I thinking with my cunt?”

He looked down at her.  “And if you are, or if you don’t know, what do you do?”

The answer came to her automatically, and she was saying it before she had even thought.

“Get help from a man.”

Ciaran smiled.  “That’s right,” he said.  “Good girl.  I think that will help you, Alison.  Now, we’re almost at our destination.  Apologise for cockteasing me with your mouth while we’ve been driving.”

She jumped.  “I don’t – I didn’t…”

“Alison, you’ve been slobbering over my dick since you got into my car,” said Ciaran.  “You’ve made my pants wet.  It’s disgusting.  Apologise, and clean me up.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alison.  “I… how do I clean it?”

“Take your blouse and rub it against my pants,” he told her.  “Then unzip my fly, and do the same for the underpants beneath that you’ve soaked.”

She obediently wiggled her blouse from under her ass, and began rubbing the white fabric against his crotch.  It felt so good that Ciaran had to struggle not to moan.  He parked the car, given they had arrived at their destination.

Then she tentatively unzipped his fly.  His dick immediately poked out, swathed in grey underwear.  

She began to rub at at that too, and now Ciaran was *definitely* breathing heavily.  Luckily Alison was focused on his cock and didn’t notice.

After a few minutes of this, he said, “Now clean me… underneath the underwear.  I’m afraid your slobber has soaked all the way through.”

He knew he was pushing faster than he should, but at this stage he was so aroused he couldn’t bear to stop her.  And to his delight, Alison didn’t argue.  She pulled down his underwear to reveal his hard cock, and stared at it for a few moments, her face flushed, before she finally wrapped her blouse around it and began to “clean” it.

Whether intentionally or not, her idea of cleaning it seemed to be to pump it with her fist.

Ciaran couldn’t help it.  For the second time that day, he orgasmed, flooding Alison’s blouse with his cum.

“You SLUT,” he spat, as his body jerked and his semen pumped into Alison’s blouse.  “I said *clean* me, not *give me a handjob*.  Oh, god, you disgusting whore.”

She jerked away, her face pale with shock and humiliation.

Ciaran took the blouse from her and made sure it caught all of his cum, and then wiped it along his dick to clean it completely.  Then he threw the blouse at her.

“Put it on, you perverted little slut,” he told her. “You can apologise to me later.  We’re here.”

“But…” said Alison.  “It’s wet…”

“I know,” he said.  “You *made* it wet.  But you can hardly go to an appointment in nothing but a bra.  So put it on.”

As Ciaran stuffed his cock back in his pants, Alison reluctantly put the blouse on.  The entire front of it was visibly soaked in cum, and it pressed wetly against her skin.  Her eyes looked like she was about to cry.

In other words, she looked pretty.  Ciaran smiled, and got out of the car to lead Alison to her appointment.

===

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===

Allison takes a car trip with Ciaran on the way to a humiliating appointment.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 16

(Click here to view the 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

===

Employee Evaluation – Fuckbunny Penrose, Female Resources

Evaluation conducted by CJ Hannover, Product Development

Note: The employee file for Ms Penrose, provided by her manager Sugar-Tits, specifies that Ms Penrose’s preferred gender identity is “cunt”, that she goes by her full name “Fuckbunny” but prefers to be called by the nicknames “Slut” or “Whore”, and that she feels uncomfortable when men make eye contact with her and prefers them to look at her breasts or groin.  This advice has been followed throughout the evaluation process.

Background

The cunt crawled into my office on all fours at around 4 pm.  She was wearing a short skirt, high heels, and a bra, with no shirt over the top.  Even in the bra, her large fake udders were swaying provocatively back and forth beneath her as she crawled.  She was blushing, and had traces of liquid on her face that suggested she had been licking the cunt of another girl, possibly her manager.  She said that she had been sent by her manager Sugar-Tits to “do whatever I wanted”.  I judged her to be showing clear signs of sexual arousal at this time.

I instructed the cunt to stand and remove her clothes so that I could conduct a full inspection of her employee potential.  She was hesitant to do this, and slow to obey, but did not need to be told twice before complying.

Evaluation of body:

The cunt is overall fit, attractive and projects a general attitude of sexuality that would encourage an average man to want to rape her.

She has shoulder-length dyed blonde hair, and an attractive face.  She uses make-up appropriately to emphasise her sexual availability, and her mouth seems suitable for kissing or fucking.

The cunt’s udders have been surgically enhanced – she claims they are an E-cup – and look obviously artificial to the naked eye – what might be called “porn star tits”.  Their size and shape appears to be a source of some embarrassment to her and she blushes when attention is directed to them.  They have appropriate sensitivity, and she gasped when I squeezed them.  She does not appear to be lactating.

Her ass is curvy, but toned.  Her pussy is hairless and puffy, and at the time of inspection it was so wet that her arousal juices were dribbling down her inner thigh.  She confessed to having been masturbating prior to attending my office, thinking about  “what I might do to her”.  I made her spread her pussy lips so that I could inspect her clitoris and fuckhole, and this seemed to cause her intense embarrassment and humiliation.

She continued to wear the high heels even after undressing, despite obviously having difficulty balancing or walking on them.

I told her that her body was “marginally acceptable”, noting it is company policy to never let a woman feel confident about her appearance.  I noted that her tits could be bigger, and that I could “overlook her obvious defects”.

Interview

There were no visitor chairs in my office at the time, so I had the cunt kneel at my feet.  I gave her permission to masturbate, which she accepted.  I told her I would ask her a series of questions, and her answers would form part of her employee evaluation.  If she failed to answer a question, or took too long to answer, it would be held against her.  I further informed her that if her answers didn’t satisfy me that she had absorbed the company’s ethos and values, it could result in the termination of her employment.

She looked a little frightened, but nodded that she understood.  

My questions and her answers follow:

Me: What value do you feel you bring to this company?

Fuckbunny: (pause, then, blushing) Large tits and a wet pussy.

Me: How would you rate your intelligence and competence?

Fuckbunny: (deeper blushing, signs of anger and humiliation)  I am very stupid and silly, sir.  (pause)  Because I am a woman.

Me: What are your career goals in this organisation?

Fuckbunny: (arousal visibly intensifying, but also looking like she might cry)  I hope… to be raped.  (pause) Regularly.

Me: And what outcome are you hoping for from this employee evaluation?

Fuckbunny; (quietly) I want you to rape me, sir.

Assessment One

At this point, the cunt’s cockteasing behaviour overrode my self-control, and I was provoked into sexually assaulting her.  I was unable to resist unzipping my fly, exposing my cock, pushing her backwards onto the floor, and then climbing on top of her to fuck her.

The cunt made some struggle against my actions, presumably to further cocktease me.  She pushed at me in an erotic manner, and said, “No, please, I didn’t mean it,” in a sultry, slutty voice intended to arouse me.  There were some tears in her eyes, presumably because she knew she looked prettier when crying, and that it would make her completely irresistible to fuck.

Her pussy was still extraordinarily wet and offered no resistance to my cock, showing how much she wanted to be sexually assaulted in the office.  I slapped her across the face as I fucked her, to punish her for her inappropriate cockteasing behaviour, but it only made her gasp and buck, and I believe she may even have orgasmed.  I gave her a couple of slaps to her oversized udders, too, and while these intensified her tears, they also seemed to deepen her arousal.

I asked her if she was on birth control, and she told me she was not.  I informed her that I would ejaculate into her pussy anyway, and that any resulting pregnancy would be her problem, not mine.  This appeared to drive her into a kind of hysteria.  Her struggling intensified, but again she appeared to orgasm during this struggle.

I told her also that I needed her to confirm she consented to this intercourse, otherwise she would be disciplined for attempting to lure a supervisor into a compromising situation.  I made her repeatedly say, “Rape me, rape me,” as I fucked her, and she continued to chant this until I finally reached orgasm and filled her womb with my semen.

I found her overall sexual performance to be quite enjoyable, and I rate her as a Grade A fuck, with potential to reach an A+ with proper training.

Assessment Two

Following her fucking, the cunt still appeared distraught.  She was shuddering and shaking, possibly as a result of her orgasms, and there were still some tears.  She also seemed intent on cleaning my cum from her pussy, possibly to lower her chance of pregnancy, which I found to be rude and disrespectful.  I slapped her hands away from her cunt twice, telling her to leave it alone, and eventually had to use a large bulldog clip from my desk to clamp her pubic mound and trap the cum inside her.  This caused her some pain, but it was, of course, the direct consequence of her own misbehaviour.

I left her there on the floor for a while to gain control of her emotions, but a half hour later she was still there, and the provocation of her nude, slutty body was causing me to become aroused again.  I got her to stand up, and removed the clip from her pussy, then had her sit on my lap as I sat at my desk, with my cock inside her cunt.

I then instructed her to perform my work for the next hour.  I mentor several young bitches within the company who were identified at various stages as having “attitude problems”.  I assist them with these difficulties by regularly sending them “practice emails”, where I insult them, objectify them, and degrade them.  They are required to respond to these emails politely and constructively within a half-hour of receiving them.  They are to answer any questions posed to them and not dispute the truth or underlying assumptions of anything in the email.  The regular receipt of these emails keeps their mind focused on pleasing managers and clients, and helps prevent them from developing an “uppity” or “bratty” attitude at work.

I had Ms Penrose write several of these emails for me as she bounced on my cock, and she showed a remarkable aptitude for this work, which is commendable in a female of such limited intellect.

Here are a few of the example emails she drafted, with some of the replies I subsequently received.

Fuckbunny: “Ellen, I’ve been thinking about how you’d look if you were decorated with my cum.  Do you think you’d look prettier with my cum on your face, or on your tits?”

Bitch: “I think I would look prettiest with your cum on my face, sir.”

Fuckbunny: “Tanya – why are you such a dumb cunt?”

Bitch: “I am sorry, sir, it is because I am a woman.”

Fuckbunny: “Kay, settle a bet for me, you stupid slut.  Which one of your female co-workers would you most like to be raped by?”

Bitch: “If I had to be raped by one of my female co-workers, I would most like to be raped by Jenna, because she is pretty and has gorgeous hair.”

Ms Penrose showed some initiative by immediately forwarding this last answer to the relevant Jenna so that she could read it.  I was so impressed by this that I reached orgasm again, and ejaculated another load of sperm into her womb.

I judge her performance in this task to be excellent, and recommend her for further responsibilities keeping the company’s female resources in line.

Summary

While Fuckbunny Penrose is clearly a dumb slut, she shows aptitude as both a fucktoy and a traitor to her own gender, and I give her a grade of “somewhat acceptable” on her evaluation (being the highest grade available to a female resource).

As a reward for her performance, I assisted her to achieve her professed career goal of “being regularly raped” by confiscating her clothes and dismissing her for the day, to allow her to travel home completely naked but for her high heels.  

Signed, 

CJ Hannover, Product Development

===

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===

Bunny receives an employee evaluation.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 15

(Click here to view the 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

===

“I can’t lick your pussy!” protested Bunny, blushing.  “I’m not a lesbian… I mean, I don’t do that with girls.  I mean…”

“Sssh,” said Emma, and put a finger across Bunny’s lips.  “Those feelings are coming from your bitch instinct.  Don’t listen to them.  Your cunt has your true feelings.  That’s why it’s always so wet around me.”

As she spoke, Emma used her free hand to caress the back of Bunny’s head – and then grip a handful of her hair.

Bunny whimpered.  Not from having her hair pulled – that actually felt good.  But from the truth of what Emma was saying.

“Now come along, Fuckbunny,” said Emma.  She pulled Bunny by her hair, and Bunny had no choice but to crawl along the office floor.  Emma pushed back her chair to reveal the space beneath her office desk, and Bunny crawled in obediently, still nude from the waist up.

Then Emma sat in her office chair, rolled it back to its position at the desk, and spread her legs.

She was wearing no underwear beneath her skirt.  Bunny was staring at her boss’s wet, naked cunt.

She stared at what she was seeing.  “Mistress,” she said, tentatively, “there’s something on your clitoris.”

It was a small metal object, the size of a car key, clipped to Emma’s clit.

Emma giggled.  “Oh, that’s my pager,” she said.  “Tim makes it vibrate when he wants me, and uses it to shock me when I’ve been bad.  Except that good girls learn to cum from having their pussy shocked.”  

She reached down and unclipped it from her clitoris.  “I’ll put it on my nipple until you’re done,” she said.  “Now be a good Fuckbunny, and lick me.”

The smell of cunt was overpowering.  Emma had clearly been wet for hours.

Bunny couldn’t believe she was here – half-naked beneath her boss’ desk, expected to lick her female supervisor’s pussy to orgasm.  She had come here to begin a career in business – but right now she was little more than a sex slave.

It occurred to her again that any normal woman would rebel.  A nice girl would yell, and complain, and quit.

But Bunny couldn’t afford to do that.  So she supposed she was neither normal or nice.

And besides – she couldn’t hide from herself that she *wanted* to lick Emma’s pussy.  She wanted to make Emma happy.  She wanted to make Emma pleased with her.  She wanted to *taste* Emma, and swallow Emma’s cunt juices.

She leaned in, resting her cheek against Emma’s inner thigh, using her fingers to spread Emma’s pussy wider, and began to lick.

Emma giggled when she felt Bunny’s tongue against her fuckhole – a brainless, bimbo-ish sound.  “Ooh, that’s good,” she moaned.  “You know, I used to have a secretary to be my cunt-slave – a pretty girl called Honeybee.  Tim gave her to me for being a good little bimbo.  I used to rape her every night.”

She paused to gasp as Bunny’s tongue flicked over her clit, then continued.  “But then one of our business partners saw her, and wanted to fuck her, so Tim loaned her out, and then she got pregnant.  The other company offered her a position as a full-time breeder, so Tim let her leave to pursue that opportunity.  The last time I saw her, they were keeping her naked in the board room, with a gag so she could never speak, and her belly was big and round and her tits were leaking milk.” 

She sighed.  “I bet her milk would have been really tasty.  I miss her.”

Then Emma looked down at Bunny.  “I guess I’ll just try *your* milk when *you* get pregnant.”

Bunny’s eyes widened, and she went to back away from Emma’s cunt to explain that she wasn’t going to *get* pregnant – but Emma grabbed her hair, and forced her back down on Emma’s groin, and Bunny had no choice but to lick obediently.

She couldn’t deny that something about this felt *good*.  She was so far from the empowered career-woman she had wanted to be – little more than a sex-object or slave – and yet it felt so *comforting* to be here.  She was trapped in a space only just big enough to contain her, with literally nothing to do except lick her boss’s pussy, and no one to please except for Emma.  She had no options, no choices, no significant responsibilities – and somehow that made her feel relaxed and happy in a way that she hadn’t felt – well, possibly *ever*.

And she also couldn’t deny that licking Emma’s pussy was erotic.  Her boss’ cunt tasted divine.  She couldn’t get enough of it.  After a while, she shifted her free hand – the one that wasn’t spreading Emma’s pussy lips – to her own groin, and began to surreptitiously squeeze and rub at her wet, needy fuckhole.  And once she started doing that, her last remaining worries fled.  She was letting her “cunt feelings” take control – and they made her feel happy.

She actually brought Emma to orgasm fairly quickly – but Emma just held Bunny’s head tight against her pussy, so Bunny kept licking.  She was only doing small kitten-licks now, and kisses.  After all, her tongue wasn’t used to this, and had started to tire quickly.  But Emma didn’t seem to mind, and appeared to enjoy just the feel of Bunny’s lips against her private parts.

After a while, Bunny heard the door to Emma’s office and a man enter.  (No woman would use the door, Bunny knew – they would be required to crawl through the pet flap.)  Bunny raised her head to stop licking, but Emma grabbed her hair again, and Bunny blushed as she realised that Emma intended to hold a conversation with her visitor while having Bunny continue to lick her cunt.

“Good afternoon, Sugar-Tits,” said the man.  Bunny didn’t recognise his voice.  “How’s your day?”

Emma giggled, and said, “Better for seeing you, CJ.  How can I help you, sir?”

The man – CJ – took a seat opposite Emma’s desk.  “I see you have a new cunt on the floor.  A pretty one.  How’s she doing?”

“She calls herself Bunny,” said Emma, and Bunny jerked against Emma’s hand again as she realised the conversation would be about her.  “But her real name is Fuckbunny,” Emma continued, “and she blushes if you call her that.”

“She’s changed her name already?” asked CJ in surprise.

“Oh, no,” said Emma.  “That was her name before she was hired.  And she already has fake tits, too.  She’s a real prodigy.”

“Oh, she already knew a woman’s place?” asked CJ.

Emma giggled.  “No, she thinks she’s a feminist,” she said.  “She’s got a complicated history.  But she learned to crawl faster than almost any woman in Female Resources, and she was getting wet from letting Tim Bolland cum on her tits just earlier today.  I think she’s a born fucktoy, but she just doesn’t know it yet.”

Bunny’s face was bright red.  She couldn’t believe that Emma was frankly discussing her sexual activity with a stranger, while she was right here – as if she were an object.  She was tempted to bite Emma’s clit in protest – but it would almost certainly reveal her humiliating half-naked state hidden under the desk, and she didn’t know what consequences might follow from Emma.  She just blushed furiously, and kept licking.

“I saw that presentation she made where she said that women are basically just stupid animals that don’t have real brains,” said CJ.  “Are you telling me she said all that while still believing she was a feminist?”

Emma giggled again.  “I know, right?  She’s such a silly.  And now she’ll probably never work with feminists again.  If they see that lecture, they’ll lynch her on the spot.”

In all the shame of having to give the lecture in the first place, Bunny hadn’t thought about what it might mean for her future.  Now she felt the full shock of realising what she had done.  She made a little gasp – muffled by Emma’s cunt – and felt tears well in her eyes.

She couldn’t cry down here.  She couldn’t cry into Emma’s pussy.  If she sobbed, this man, CJ, would hear her.  And anyway, she didn’t want to think about humiliation, or the fact that she may have ruined her future.  She wanted those thoughts to go away.

She remembered the lecture she had given.  Bad feelings were “head noise” – just meaningless chatter rolling around in her empty girlish head.  She could tune them out, by listening to her cunt, and her tits.  She used her free hand to give her left breast a little squeeze – and honestly, it *did* make her happier.  Lowering her hand back to her pussy and continuing to masturbate was even better.  The shame began to recede, and the urge to cry faded.  She just focused on being happy as Emma’s obedient cunt-slave.

CJ coughed, awkwardly.  “So, Sugar-Tits…” he said.  “When do you think I might get a turn with this Fuckbunny?”

“Whenever you like, really,” said Emma.  “She’s naturally submissive.  A lot of men have already groped her and degraded her, and she hasn’t uttered a word of complaint.  I suspect you could just rape her, and she wouldn’t protest at all.”

Bunny tried to tune out the horrifying things Emma was saying.  She focused on her cunt feelings and tit feelings.  And she tried to ignore the fact that being talked about, like an object, in such demeaning terms, was making her even more wet than she had been to begin with.

“Is she going to be alone somewhere soon?” asked CJ.

“I’ll send her by your office before she leaves for the day,” said Emma.  Then Emma paused.  “But, please, sir,” she added, “be gentle with her.  She really is a very *good* Fuckbunny, and she’ll juice up for you and give you a good time if you show her a little mercy.  I know you like it when they cry, but I’d be very” – she paused, and then continued in a suggestive tone – “*grateful* if you’d let her enjoy it.”

CJ laughed.  “Fine,” he said.  “This one time.  You’ve been very accommodating as always, Sugar-Tits.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Emma, and giggled again.  

And after that, Bunny heard CJ get up and leave the office.

When he was gone, Emma pushed her chair back, and looked down at Bunny, who was still half-naked, with Emma’s pussy juices shining on her cheeks.

“I know you heard that, Fuckbunny,” said Emma.  “I’m going to send you to see CJ in half an hour.  Until then, I want you to rub your pussy while thinking about what’s going to happen to you.  I don’t want you to cum – just stay right on the edge, so you’re horny and stupid, like a good girl.  Understand?”

Bunny whimpered, not believing that Emma was really going to ask this of her.

But she was.

“If you don’t want to do this,” said Emma, “you’ll be fired. It’s up to you.  And I’m going to get CJ to file an official report on your behaviour, to go on your permanent record, so make sure you give him a good time, all right?”  She smiled.  “But while you’re masturbating, you may as well keep licking my pussy.”  She pushed her chair back against the desk, and used Bunny’s hair to pull Bunny back against her cunt.

Bunny masturbated obediently, and thought about the fact she was going to walk to the office of a man she had never met and allow him to rape her.  She thought about how this was apparently part of her *job* now.  She thought about how she would be assessed on her performance.

And despite all the horror and fear that she knew she should be feeling – that she was *obliged* to feel, as a woman and a feminist – her true shame was knowing that the hardest part would be masturbating to those ideas for a full half-hour without accidentally cumming.

===

Buy the e-book of Emma’s Division now for only $7.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of hot new erotica like this!  (Click here to view in store.)

===

Bunny learns to lick Emma's pussy.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 14

(Click here to view the 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

===

When she returned from giving her presentation, Bunny stopped by Emma’s office, crawling once again on all fours through the dog-door to enter, before standing, doing her best to balance in the ridiculously high heels.

“I’m back,” she said.  “What would you like me to be doing?”  And then she remembered how Tim had told her to address her boss, and added, belatedly, “Mistress.”

It felt strange to call Emma “mistress” – but also strangely good.

Emma smiled, rose from her chair, and came over to where Bunny was standing.  She leaned forward and kissed Bunny on the lips, 

Bunny knew she was going to have to get used to this policy-mandated “female greeting” process – but kissing Emma still made her melt.  She felt her knees go weak, and stumbled, and Emma caught her by moving forward towards her so that Bunny was pressed up against the wall, with the office partitioning supporting her back.

She let herself enjoy the kiss, and ignore the fact that her cunt was getting wet again even though she had just masturbated to orgasm at the front of the lecture hall less than fifteen minutes previously.

She thought back to the lecture she had given, about “where girls’ feelings come from” – “feelings” because girls didn’t really have “thoughts”.  She supposed that Tim Bolland would say that her current feelings were coming from her cunt, which made them good feelings, and the part of her that was telling her to stop being a slut in the office, that normal girls didn’t get wet from tongue-kissing their boss, was her “bitch instinct”, which was best ignored.

She hated those ideas – but she couldn’t deny that letting her cunt do her thinking was making her happy right now, and if she were to give in to her bitch instinct instead, it would be difficult and unpleasant, and Emma would be upset at her and Tim would be upset at her, and she’d probably end up being punished and crying.  Maybe cunt feelings *were* the ones she should focus on.

Emma finished the kiss, and pulled away, leaving Bunny gasping, flushed, and open-mouthed.

“Tim thought you did a good job on the lecture,” said Emma.  “He called you a good girl.”

Bunny was confused.  Tim hadn’t been at the lecture – but then she realised of course that there *had* been cameras in the room, and of course it was possible that Tim had watched over the office intranet.  She wondered how many *other* people might have been watching – and whether the camera angles had caught her masturbating like a slut behind the supposed concealment of the lectern.

And then there was a blush of embarrassed pride.  Tim had called her a good girl?  She didn’t really care what a sexist pig like Tim called her, of course – but he had been so disappointed in her so often that she couldn’t help but glow a little at the news that she had finally pleased him.

“Thank you, mistress,” she breathed – although she knew it really wasn’t Emma she should thank, but Tim.

“In fact,” continued Emma, “he wants to give you a reward.  Go and see him in his office.”  She then looked down at Bunny’s feet.  “If you’re going to have to crawl, you’d better get moving.  He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Bunny blushed – and immediately dropped to all fours.  “Thank you, mistress,” she said again, and then crawled out of the dog door.

She was acutely aware of the position she had come to.  She was wearing nothing above the waist other than her bra, and she was crawling through the corridors of Kavenagh & True on all fours like a pet.

And as she crawled, she suddenly became aware it was worse than that.  She felt a draft on her ass cheeks as she wiggled her way towards the elevator, and realised that she wasn’t wearing panties.  She had never put them back on after they had fallen off during the lecture.  In fact, they were sitting there, right now, on top of the lectern, for anyone to find!

She thought about diverting back to the lecture theatre to get them – but Emma was right, that Tim Bolland didn’t like to be kept waiting.  And also she had a strong suspicion she would discover the panties were already gone.  So she just kept crawling.  Her skirt was long enough that she wasn’t *completely* exposing her ass and pussy as she crawled.  She would just have to move quickly and hope that no one noticed.

She reached the elevator and got in.  She thought about standing while she was in the lift – but she would just have to crawl again when she got out, and if anyone was in the lift with her, the process of getting back down onto all fours might call attention to her bare-cunted state.  So she remained kneeling as the elevator took her to Tim’s floor.

When she eventually reached Tim’s floor, she crawled into his office, and waited for him to acknowledge her.  After a moment, she remembered how she had gotten his attention previously – kneeling, hands like paws in front of her tits, and mouth open.

Tim looked down at her from his desk.  “Good cunt,” he said, smiling, and threw her a kitten treat.

Emma caught the small piece of pet food in her mouth – feeling traitorous pride at her dexterity in catching it – and swallowed obediently.

“You’ve been a very good girl today, Fuckbunny,” said Tim.  “I liked your presentation a lot.  Would you like another kitten treat?”

He pushed his chair out from his desk, and held out his hand, with another piece of the dry pet food in the palm.

Bunny still didn’t want to eat pet food – but she felt herself blushing at his praise, and in any case she knew that “no” was not going to be an acceptable answer.

“Yes, sir,” she said, nodding her head.

“Then come and get it,” said Tim.

Bunny crawled across the floor, and looked at his palm.  The way he was holding the treat, the implication was clear.  He didn’t want her to take it with her fingers.  He wanted her to eat it from his palm, like an animal.

She lowered her head, and licked the kitten treat off his hand, swallowed it, and then looked up at him for approval.

“Good cunt,” said Tim again.  “I have another reward for you, too.”  

And with his other hand, he unzipped his fly, and pulled out his stiff, erect cock.

Bunny blushed.  She didn’t know what to do.  She knew that in any normal office, this was completely unacceptable – sexual harassment at least, possibly an actual crime.  You couldn’t just take out your penis around a co-worker.

But this was no normal office, and Bunny was no normal girl, and she knew she wasn’t going to raise a ruckus over this when she had just crawled to Tim’s office in nothing but a bra, skirt and high heels and licked pet food out of his palm.

“Take off your bra,” said Tim, and began to stroke his cock, while pointing it at her.

This was too much for Bunny.  “Sorry, sir?” she said, hoping she had misheard.

“Take off your bra,” said Tim, “otherwise you’re going to get cum on it, and everyone will see.”

Tim was going to masturbate in front of her.  He was going to masturbate until he came, and he was going to ejaculate on Bunny’s tits.  She had a choice – to get the cum on her bra, or on her naked breasts.

She had never felt so humiliated or objectified.  She looked at the door, and considered just running away, and leaving all this, no matter the consequences.

But of course she couldn’t run in these heels.  She would have to crawl…

She whimpered, and reached behind her back to uncinch her bra.  The cups fell away, exposing her breasts to Tim’s gaze.

“Thank me for this reward, cunt,” said Tim.

Bunny paused, and then said, “Thank you for rewarding me, sir.”

“And tell me all the things you’ve learned in this company,” said Tim.  “Keep telling me until you receive your reward.”

Bunny couldn’t believe she was doing this.  But what choice did she have?  She told herself she just had to get through this, and it would be over.

“I’m a cunt, sir,” she said, in a quiet voice.

“Louder,” demanded Tim, still masturbating.

“I’m a cunt, sir!” Bunny said, louder, her face red.  “I…. I deserved to be raped because I’m a girl.  I’m a stupid dumb cunt. I’m a cum-toilet and a whore.  I don’t have thoughts, only feelings, because my brain isn’t fully developed.  I need a man to tell me what to do.  I deserve to be raped because I’m stupid, and my pussy is wet.”

As she repeated the humiliating, degrading phrases, she stared at Tim’s cock.  It was almost hypnotic, watching him pump it.  And the thought came to her that, for some reason, her pussy was wet.  The thought?  No, the feeling.  She didn’t have thoughts.  It was a cunt feeling, and that meant it was good.  And the things she was saying, what were they?  They were things men had told her, and that meant they were good, too.  

And when she accepted those ideas as good, it was less awful to be here, being used as a masturbation aid by a man she worked with.  Feeling bad about it was – well, it was her “bitch instinct”, wasn’t it?  And her “head noise”?  Not real thoughts, not like men had, but just a kind of static that would make her unhappy if she paid attention to it.  

She could just… tune it out.  And focus on how her cunt was getting wetter and needier.  And stare at Tim’s cock.  And when she did that, she found that she was actually looking forward to Tim cumming on her.  It showed that he liked her, that he found her sexy, that he approved of her.  It *was* a reward, really.

And a moment later, Tim came.  Bunny felt hot cum splatter on her tits, and she flinched briefly.  There was more of it than she expected.

And then Tim was grabbing her hair, and pulling her close.  “Clean up your mess, Fuckbunny,” he said, and then Tim’s cock was poking at her lips, and Bunny opened her mouth and took it in.

It only required a few moments for her to lick his cock clean.  In her horny, happy state, she would have liked to suck on it longer.  His salty cum tasted good, and it felt so *right* to be here at his feet, suckling on his dick.  But all too soon, Tim pushed her away, and tucked his cock back in her pants.

“Good cunt,” he said again.

Bunny looked down at her tits, which were covered in wet sperm.  She looked around for something to wipe them clean.

“No, leave it,” said Tim.  “It’s your reward.  Just put your bra back on over the top.  You can ask Emma how you’re allowed to clean them when you get back to your division.”

Bunny found it hard to think.  Her pussy was still so wet, and everything was so strange.  Having chosen to tune out her “head noise”, she now felt spacy and disconnected.  She stared at Tim – and at Tim’s crotch, where his cock was now hidden in his pants.

“If you’re a very good girl, Fuckbunny,” said Tim, “then in future you might be allowed to have my cock in your pussy.  Would you like that?”

Bunny blushed – but she couldn’t hide the truth that she felt at that moment.  She nodded, eagerly.

“Good cunt,” said Tim.  “Put your bra back on and crawl back to your division.”

Bunny did as she was told, putting her bra back on over her sperm-wet tits, and then crawling back to Female Resources.  The bra hid the cum very well, albeit that the sperm was soaking into the bra itself in the process.

She eventually made her way back to Emma’s office.

“Welcome back, Bunny,” said Emma, smiling at the crawling girl.  “How did you do with Tim?”

Bunny blushed, rising into a kneeling position.  “He… ah…”

Emma came and knelt beside Bunny.  She reached out and stroked Bunny’s cheek.  “You can tell me, Bunny,” she said.  “I know how this company works.”

Bunny went brighter red, avoiding eye contact.  “He ejaculated on my breasts, mistress.  As my reward.”

Emma’s eyes widened.  ‘You’re so lucky!” she said.  “He must really be pleased with you!”

“He, ah… he said you could tell me how I was allowed to clean it off, mistress,” said Bunny, awkwardly.

“Absolutely,” said Emma.  “Take off your bra for me.”

Emma’s office had a glass front.  Anyone in Female Resources could see in.  But nobody was looking.  She removed her bra, baring her tits to Emma.

“And your skirt,” said Emma.  But she didn’t wait for Bunny to comply.  Instead, she reached out and uncinched Bunny’s skirt – and suddenly Bunny was completely naked, bar for her high heels.  

Bunny squeaked, and tried to snatch the skirt back from Emma, but Emma had tossed it away, behind her desk.

“Ssh,” said Emma.  “This is what girls are for.”  And then she leaned down towards Bunny’s cum-coated tits, and began to lick.

Bunny shuddered, and moaned.  The touch of her boss’ tongue felt so erotic – and yet so humiliating.  Anyone could look into the office and see this happening.  It was like she was putting on a staged lesbian display – for her workplace, no less.  But the way she was positioned, and with Emma licking at her breasts, she could no longer easily check to see if anyone was watching her.

And then her eyes widened further – because Emma had moved her hand to between Bunny’s legs.  Emma was cupping Bunny’s throbbing, engorged pussy – and then two of her fingers pushed between Bunny’s cunt lips, and began to gently stroke Bunny’s clit.

Bunny no longer cared if anyone was watching.  Her body shook, and she heard herself moaning like a slut.  Emma carefully and thoroughly licked Tim’s cum from Bunny’s breasts until they were clean – and then moved her mouth to Bunny’s nipple, and began suckling on it, even as she continued to stroke her subordinate’s clitoris.

And then she was cumming.  Again.  She had lost count of how many times she had orgasmed today.  She didn’t care.  She needed it. 

She threw her arms around Emma, holding the woman’s head tight against her tits, as her hips bucked and her legs shook, until finally she lost her balance completely, and fell to the carpet, dragging Emma down with her, and both women lay there until Bunny had recovered.

And when it was over, Emma raised her head, and kissed Bunny on the lips, and said, “And now you’re going to return the favour, Bunny.  I’m going to let you have your skirt and bra back – and in return you’re going to kneel under my desk while I work, and learn how to lick a girl’s cunt.”

===

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

===

Bunny receives a reward.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 11

(Click here to view the 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

===

Bunny was so confused when she returned to the Female Resources division.  She had come to Kavenagh & True to learn from her feminist idol, Emma Cooper – but had instead found Emma transformed into a submissive bimbo heading up a team of degraded sluts.  And just today alone, Bunny had been forced to kiss her female co-workers, been fed cat-food by a male superior as though she were an animal, been slapped and spanked by a younger man until she called herself a cum-toilet and a cunt; forced to masturbate to orgasm in public, and been made to offer suggestions on how to cause herself to be raped more frequently.

And no one treated this as strange.  Everyone just acted as if this was what a pretty girl should expect in a modern workplace.  

Had Bunny been a different woman, with a different life history, she would have quit.  She *should* have quit.  She knew this.  But her lifestyle – and that of her mother – was dependent on the sizeable trust fund created by her estranged father, and that trust fund in turn required that Bunny never quit a job due to sexual harassment.  

So she would continue on, and hope to find a way to maybe end this nightmare, or convince her hero Emma to fight back against this humiliating culture.

But she had no idea how.  And it was so hard to think, amidst all the degradation – and, she had to admit, also so hard to think because of how traitorously wet her cunt kept getting.  No woman could think straight while horny – and Bunny felt like a slut, because she was getting horny more and more often at work.  What kind of a whore had a wet cunt at work, she wondered?

A whore like her, apparently.

As she walked back across the open-plan portion of Female Resources to Emma’s office, she intended to re-open the question of why Emma was behaving like such a bimbo, and what could be done to resist the misogyny in the office.  But when she entered Emma’s office, Emma immediately stepped towards her, wrapped an arm around Bunny’s back, and kissed her deeply on the lips.

Bunny melted.  Her mind went blank.  She felt her tits pressing against Emma’s oversized bosom, her thighs against Emma’s thighs.  Her arms went instinctively around the small of Emma’s back, and her lips parted to allow Emma’s tongue into her mouth.  Her cunt throbbed urgently and it was all she could do not to try and grind her pussy against Emma’s leg like an animal in heat.

This was Tim’s “female co-worker relationship policy”, intended to transform and improve the relationships between the women in Female Resources – and it was working.  With one kiss, Emma had forced all the fight and resistance out of Bunny’s body, and now all Bunny wanted to do was please her beautiful superior.

Emma broke off the kiss.

“Um…” said Bunny, dazed, her mind blank.  For a long moment, she couldn’t remember why she had come here, or what she had intended to say.

“I’m glad you’re back,” said Emma.  “I want you to go over this, and prepare it for tomorrow.”  She handed Bunny a binder full of documents.

“What…” asked Bunny, still dizzy.

“One of the responsibilities of Female Resources is to present training to the girls of the company,” said Emma.  “Tomorrow we’re doing a presentation on ‘women in the workplace’, based on Tim Bolland’s writings.  I want you to go over the material in the binder, and organise it into a presentation for tomorrow.”

Bunny opened the binder and looked at what was inside.  Her face immediately coloured with embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t present this!” she objected.

“Of course you can,” said Emma.  “Tim personally asked for you to be the presenter.  It’s an honour.  You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”

Bunny didn’t.  If she disappointed Tim, he would spank her – or worse.  But still…

“Just be a good girl, and make Tim happy,” said Emma.  “You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

There was something electric about those words – and doubly so when Emma said them.  Bunny *did* want to be a good girl.  She wanted to be a good girl for Tim – and she *really* wanted to be a good girl for Emma.

“Yes,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Excellent,” smiled Emma.  “Then hop along, little Bunny.  Get to work!”

And Bunny retreated obediently, and spent the rest of the day preparing for her new assignment.

===

She asked Emma permission to leave work half an hour early.  She needed to buy new heels on the way home.  Emma kissed her – and once again Bunny melted into a brainless, wet-cunted mess as her boss held her and forced her tongue into Bunny’s mouth – and then agreed.

Soon Bunny was on her way home with a pair of the highest heels she could find.  She was not at all sure she could walk in them without something to hold onto – but that was exactly what Leroy had asked for, and she feared what would happen if she didn’t do as Leroy had asked.  He would punish her, certainly – maybe with another bare-assed spanking, and maybe with something worse – and he might complain to Tim, who would *also* punish her… and then possibly fire her, which would be the end of her trust fund, her lifestyle, and her mother’s house and financial security.

At home, she queued up the next of Leroy’s “rape videos” and watched it  It depicted a woman being beaten and raped by a co-worker in an office, as depicted from the point of view of a security camera.  Bunny watched it and stroked her pussy and tried to decide if it was staged or not.  It still felt strange to masturbate to something that might be a real-life non-consensual rape.  Was she a traitor to her gender for doing this?  Or just a woman choosing from between bad options in a world run by men?  

By the time the woman in the video was crying, and the man was ejaculating in her asshole, Bunny no longer cared, because she herself was orgasming, gasping and moaning with her whole body shaking as she stared into the woman’s traumatised eyes and pictured herself receiving the same treatment.

===

It turned out that Bunny *couldn’t* walk in the high heels.  She avoided putting them on her feet until she arrived in the office’s underground car park, because she certainly couldn’t drive in them, but after stepping out of her car on the vertiginous heels she immediately had to put a hand on the roof of her car for support.

The angle of the shoes left her feet almost vertical, as though she were standing on her tiptoes.  Her calves felt unnaturally taught, and she had to keep her back almost completely rigid to avoid the weight of her large tits causing her to topple forward.  She blushed, and wondered if she could get away with taking the shoes off until she was inside the building.

“Do you need help there, cupcake?” asked a male voice.

Bunny turned, and her heart sank when she saw William True, the son of the firm’s founder, standing nearby in a suit and tie that must have cost more than Bunny’s car.  This was the man who had watched as she was molested in the elevator on her very first day at the company.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Bunny.  “I’m just having some trouble in these heels.”

“I understand,” said True.  “Balance can be very hard for the female brain, especially for someone with sex-melons as ridiculously huge as yours.  Allow me to help.”

It was an instruction, not an offer.  He moved next to her, picked up her arm and put it over his shoulder, and then wrapped his own arm around her back.  It curled around her torso and came to rest on her tit, which he squeezed – not in a subtle way, but hard, with genuine force, enough to make Bunny squeak.  It wasn’t a caress, it was a grip, and Bunny realised that if she fell over, Mr True would likely hold her up by her breast, with all the pain and humiliation that would bring.

“Thank you, sir,” said Bunny, blushing.  She couldn’t believe she was thanking someone for squeezing her tit and commenting on her “sex-melons”, but she didn’t want to piss off someone as influential as William True.

“No trouble at all,” said True.  “Fuckbunny, wasn’t it?  It’s genuinely a pleasure.”  And with that, he began to walk her across the car park towards the elevator leading to the upper floors.  He moved at a swift pace, and Bunny honestly couldn’t keep up.  She found herself flailing with her feet as True half-dragged and half-carried her across the car park.  Her weight was half supported on his shoulder, and half supported by his painful vice-grip on her breast.  The hand holding her breast was squeezing her tit in distracting pulses, as if trying to squirt milk from it, and her traitorous pussy was once again becoming wet.

“How are you finding the work, Fuckbunny?” asked Mr True as they worked.  “I know that most women who work here find it very hard to perform their work, because of how a woman’s cunt interferes with the operation of her brain, but I imagine for someone with udders as big as yours, your breasts must also have an impact on your intelligence.  Which would you say makes you stupider, Fuckbunny – your cunt or your tits?”

The question was humiliating, but she was in no position to argue while being effectively dragged across the car park by her breast.  Besides, there was a clear and truthful answer to the question – as embarrassing as that truth was – and there was no point in telling Mr True anything he didn’t want to hear.

“My cunt, sir,” she breathed.  “It’s definitely my pussy that makes it hardest to think.”

Mr True nodded.  “Next time you see Tim Bolland, ask him to give your cunt a taste of discipline.  You’ll find it clears up your mind dramatically.”

Bunny moaned.  She didn’t want to tell Bolland anything of the sort – but she couldn’t tell how serious Mr True was, or whether he might check in on whether she’d obeyed.

They were nearing the elevator now, when Mr True stopped, and released her.  Bunny tottered on her ludicrously high heels.

“This is taking too long,” said Mr True.  “Let’s try this instead.”  And before Bunny could object, he had picked her up bodily, lifting her right off the ground, into the air – and then draping her over his shoulder, ass up, so that her legs were against his chest, and her head and arms hung down towards his buttocks.

She wiggled slightly, instinctively trying to escape – but two things immediately became apparent.  The first was that he had a surprisingly strong grip on her, and that she was in no danger of falling accidentally – and the second was that if she *did* escape that grip, she would fall quite painfully onto her face.  

She held still, blushing.

“Please,” she said.  “There’s no need for this.”

“Nonsense,” said Mr True.  “You’ll take all day to get to your office in those heels.  I’ll just carry you.”

Mr True carried her across the parking lot.  As he walked, she realised with dismay that her shirt was falling down towards her head.  She tried to lift it back up and tuck it into her skirt – but moving her arms just enabled the shirt to fall the rest of the way down, over her head, down her arms, and drop to the ground.

She wiggled with dismay.  She was now wearing nothing above the waist but her lacy lavender bra!

“Please…” she said.  “My shirt…”

They were already leaving her shirt behind.  But Mr True paid no attention to her, and soon the shirt was lost out of sight as they rounded the front of another parked car.  Bunny could do nothing but allow herself to be carried, upside-down and half-dressed.

Soon they reached the elevator, and Mr True pressed the call button.  The doors opened on an empty carriage, and True carried her inside.

Bunny felt humiliated.  She was being carried like an object, or a piece of meat, as though she was incapable of walking.

“Please, you can put me down,” she said.  Only he couldn’t, because she *couldn’t* walk in these heels, and she was only going to embarrass herself again when the doors opened.

“It’s okay, Fuckbunny,” said Mr True.  “You could stand to lose a little weight, but you’re not too heavy.”

At the ground floor the lift stopped, and to Bunny’s further humiliation two more men got in.  She couldn’t see their faces – all she could see in her current position was Mr True’s ass – but she thought from her voices they might be the men she had shared a lift with on her first day – including the man who had stuck his fingers into her pussy from behind.

They laughed as they entered, and the doors closed behind them and the lift began to move again.  

“What have you got there, Will?” asked one.  “Go hunting this morning?”

“I found her lost and confused in the parking lot,” said Mr True.  “Poor thing needed a man to help her to the elevator.  She says her cunt makes it hard for her to think.”

One of the men sniffed.  “Smells like she’s wet right now,” he said.

Bunny’s face flared with embarrassment.  She *was* wet – but the idea that someone could *smell* her made her want to die of shame.

“I think you’re right,” said Mr True.  “Can you check?”

And before Bunny could do anything, one of the other men in the elevator had flipped up her skirt, and pulled down her panties to expose her ass and pussy.  Then she felt a finger press against her pussy lips, and then slide between them into the warm, tight wetness of her cunt.

She struggled.  “What are you doing?” she protested.

“Yep, she’s soaking wet,” said the man with the finger in her cunt.  He pumped it in and out of her a few times – making Bunny moan involuntarily – and then pulled it out and wiped it clean on her ass.  “It’s a wonder these bimbos even know their own names.  They’re basically just life support for a wet hole and a pair of fuckbags.”

“Let me see,” said the other man – and then he, too, was pushing a finger into Bunny’s pussy.

Bunny wailed and struggled.  It was useless against Mr True’s strong hold on her – but it did make him slightly adjust his grip on her legs, and when he did, Bunny’s panties fell the rest of the way down her legs, and over her high heels, to fall to the elevator floor.

The man was sliding his finger in and out of Bunny’s fuckhole.  Bunny couldn’t think straight.  She was being finger-raped, in public, right here in the elevator, and no one was stopping it.  In fact, they thought it was funny.  One of the men laughed at Bunny’s futile wiggles.

“Pinch her clit,” said the first man to the one with his finger in her.  “That always makes them squeal.”

“No!” said Bunny weakly – but to no avail.  She felt the man spread her pussy lips, and then – OW! – pinch her clit.  She bucked her body violently.

“Hold still, Fuckbunny,” said Mr True, “or else I’ll drop you.”  It sounded like a threat.

The other man pinched her clitoris again.  Bunny squeaked, and tried to hold still.

Finally the elevator dinged, and the doors opened.  It was her floor – Female Resources.  And Mr True finally walked forward, and lowered her to the ground.

“There you go, Fuckbunny,” he said.  “It’s your home.  Run free.”

She blushed, and looked back at the lift.  The two men who had molested her pussy were smiling at her with smug, arrogant expressions.  She was now wearing nothing but a skirt, a bra, and high heels.  Her panties lay at the men’s feet.  She wanted to go back for them – but the doors would close soon, and Mr True was looking at her expectantly.

She knew what was expected.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Good girl,” said Mr True.  And then the doors closed, and he was gone.

Bunny turned and prepared to walk towards the Female Resources offices.  But almost immediately she felt herself losing her balance on the heels. She staggered towards the wall and put a hand against it for balance.

Maybe she could walk using the wall as support?  But the wall was smooth and slippery, with no handholds, and it still wasn’t enough to let her walk steadily.

She whimpered.  She didn’t know what to do.  She could take off the shoes – but if anyone saw her like that, and told Leroy, she would be punished, and maybe lose her job.  She could wait here for another man to find her – and the idea of male help was attractive in many ways, but she wasn’t sure she could bear another humiliation like her experience with Mr True.

And then she realised what she needed to do.  She had seen other women doing it in the office, and had wondered why any self-respecting woman would behave that way.

But now she knew.  And she had no choice but to do it herself.

Slowly, she got down on her knees, then put her hands on the office carpet.  

And, like the good girl she was, she started to crawl.

===

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Bunny struggles to walk in high heels - and gets unexpected and unwelcome assistance.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Surrender, Part 28

Previous 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 | Twenty-Seven

===

Sarah’s brain was getting progressively more confused with each new surrender.  Lachlan was a little worried about it.  When Sarah eventually broke completely – as he was sure would soon be the case – he intended to tidy up a little, and make her lusts and urges simpler, with less distracting guilt and crossed purposes.  But for now the stress served him well, as it pushed Sarah down the final spirals of her descent with increasing speed.

The false memories he had given her of begging him to adopt her as his surrogate child had cleared her of the crippling guilt of thinking she had seduced her own parents – and yet she was still visibly conflicted about her extreme and lewd sexual feelings for a man that she now called “daddy”.

And part of her desired to get a boobjob with all her heart, because she knew that giving herself over-inflated porn-balloon fuckbags would please Lachlan, and yet a good part of her remembered her feminist feelings and was terrified of this humiliating and demeaning permanent change to her body.

Rather than confront and pick apart these confused feelings – which her hypnotic programming prevented her from doing – she instead dealt with the conflict by leaning into her two greatest obsessions: her work, and her cunt.

Sarah masturbated constantly, wherever she could get away with it, desperate for the chemicals of arousal to turn off her brain and stop her from thinking about complicated and distressing things.  She fingered her twat in her office, in the toilets, and – once Lachlan gave her permission – in Lachlan’s office while she talked to him.  

She had even started surreptitiously masturbating in meetings and presentations, surrounded by men who weren’t privy to the secret of her slut transformation.  The meeting would start, and Sarah’s hand would move beneath the table, and for the rest of her time at the meeting she would be slowly, secretly rubbing her pussy through her panties while pretending to pay attention.

She didn’t have much else to do during these meetings, because Lachlan had begun to ritualise keeping Sarah silent during such gatherings.  Unless it was absolutely necessary for her to speak at a meeting, or unless Lachlan had some viewpoint he wanted her to argue for, he would call Sarah to his office before each meeting and have her suck his cock.  When he ejaculated into her mouth, he would make her hold it without swallowing – and continue to hold it for the duration of the meeting, giving her an excellent incentive to not open her mouth or express any opinions.

To enhance the effect, Lachlan liked to unbutton Sarah’s blouse down to the first button below her tits before these meetings, so that she displayed a copious and entirely work-inappropriate amount of cleavage.  This further reinforced the general perspective that Sarah was a brainless fuckdoll who had accidentally been invited to a meeting of important people, and dissuaded anyone from asking for her opinion on anything that mattered.  And Sarah would blush, and finger her twat, and taste the cum in her mouth, and come to think of all of this as normal and appropriate.

When masturbation wasn’t enough, Sarah would summon the poor blackmailed Faith – either to her office or to her home – and engage in epic sessions of nude, writhing, slutty lesbian sex.  She would always film these and send the film to Lachlan for his enjoyment, and in these sessions she rarely cared for Faith’s consent or enjoyment, instead using the poor woman as an object for her sexual pleasure – humping her cunt against Faith’s face, chewing cruelly on Faith’s clit, smearing her cunt juices over every inch of Faith’s body.

At the same time as Sarah was clouding her mind with masturbation, sex and arousal, she was also developing her new anti-women policies.

She briefed him on some of it one Wednesday afternoon in his office.  Before Lachlan allowed her to talk, he had her strip naked and masturbate him until he ejaculated on her face.  Then he allowed her to explain her work with his sperm still dripping off her cheeks and chin.

“We’ve been commissioning science on women, daddy,” Sarah told him, showing him several files.  “All the grant money has gone to very misogynistic research institutions – extremist churches, men’s rights groups, et cetera.  And we’ve privately made it clear that we’re looking for very specific results, which we’ll then give respectability to by publishing them through the department.”

She pointed to certain papers within the files.  “Look, this one has found that the brains of women don’t mature the same way that men’s do.  It concludes that in terms of basic reasoning and decision-making capacity, women are basically children for their entire lives.  It went on to find that women are more often happy with the results of decisions made for them by men than they are with the results of their own decisions.”

She identified another paper.  “This one finds that the cognition of women is closer to that of certain animals than it is to men, and it went on to find that animals outperformed women in a range of intelligence-based scenarios.”

“This one shows that women experience significantly less long-term trauma from rape if they are told that rape is normal and appropriate and inevitable rather than something that women should be scared of and ashamed of,” she went on.

“And this one shows that 92% of all women became aroused from some variation of fantasies of being raped, forced, enslaved, dominated or abused,” she said finally.

“So what are you going to do with all that?” asked Lachlan.

“Well, we’re currently lobbying to have being female listed as a recognised mental disability,” said Sarah.  “Women will be required to notify potential employers that they are mentally impaired by reason of being female.  They’ll be able to seek government funding to pay for a man to help them with their decisions, but they may be found mentally incompetent to enter into contracts or make important decisions without the agreement of such a man.  It’s our hope that we may even be able to stop them from voting at elections unless they have a man to sign off on their vote.”

“Very good, Kitten,” said Lachlan.  He reached out and stroked her hair affectionately.

“We’re going to run a campaign against the word ‘woman’,” said Sarah.  “We’re going to do that partly on a feminist front, because it’s just a derivation of ‘man’.  But also on a scientific front, because it means a mature woman, and the science says there’s no such thing.  We want the formal word to be just ‘girl’, but in legislation and formal communication we’re going to describe women as ‘bitches’ – because they’re a female animal – or ‘cunts’ – because of their anatomy.  I haven’t decided which is better yet.”

“A female animal,” said Lachlan.  “I like that.”

“Oh, yes,” said Sarah.  “One of the endgame moves I’d like to see is for all our legislation to have women taken out of the definition of ‘people’ and ‘humans’, and have women instead classed as a kind of animal.  The science supports that.  That will have all kinds of effects – they’ll be property, and their owners can make decisions for them, and they can be caged and kenneled…”

She paused and gasped.  Her hand was between her legs, fingering her cunt.

“God,” she said.  “I get so hot at that thought – rows of naked women in dog cages, their tits hanging down, their pussies exposed, waiting to be bred…”

“Good Kitten,” said Lachlan approvingly.

“And we’re going to do some work on normalising rape,” said Sarah.  “Ads like ‘Your rape doesn’t have to be traumatic!  Ten tips to enjoying your violation.’  Or ‘It’s normal to enjoy being raped.’  I’m still debating whether to keep referring to ‘rape’ or rebrand it to ‘surprise sex’.”

All of this pleased Lachlan.  He was beginning to feel that it was inevitable that Sarah would eventually be fired from her job, as she became sluttier and sluttier and found it harder and harder to hide her perversions.  The more that she accomplished before that fateful day, the better.

“There is one more matter I need to discuss with you, Kitten,” he told her.  “And it’s another breach of the Code of Conduct.”

Her eyes went wide and she went very still.

“It’s your side-job at Melons,” he told her.  “You know it’s against department policy for someone at your level to take a side-job.  It represents a conflict of interest.”

Her lip trembled.  He could see her going through the usual round of responses in her mind – that Lachlan had made her do it, that she hadn’t known, that Lachlan should grant her mercy – and dismissing them one by one.  She knew how this went.  She knew she was caught.

“So, Kitten,” he said.  “What are you going to surrender?  Play with your pussy for a bit to get your mind in the right space, and then tell me.”

There were only nine things left that Sarah had not surrendered:

  • Her bladder
  • Her heart
  • Her intelligence
  • Her name
  • Her opinions
  • Her possessions
  • Her privacy
  • Her reproductive system
  • Her willpower

He could see her considering them as she fingered her cunt, her face flushed, her breathing shallow.  The obvious answer was her possessions – Lachlan already controlled her finances, after all, and it didn’t make much additional difference.  But when she was horny her mind didn’t let her take the easiest answer.  It made her answer like a slut.

And so, as her orgasm drew near and she began gasping for breath, she said, “My bladder, sir.”

He laughed.  He had told her what he would do if she ever surrendered this.  He intended to be more merciful than she believed, but he did need to follow through on his original threat.

“Good Kitten,” he told her.  “I control your bladder now.  From now on, while you are outside your house, you will never use a bathroom or toilet without getting permission from a man.  That man should be your boss, friend or family member if one is nearby, or otherwise a co-worker, or otherwise the man in your field of view who you think is least likely to give you permission.  Do you understand?”

“What if I don’t get permission, sir?” she asked.

“Then you wet yourself,” he told her.  “And if it is at all possible, you make sure that you’re where people can see you when you wet yourself.  And if you make a mess on the floor as a result, you take off your skirt and panties to wipe it up.  Do you understand?”

She made a little noise of horror.  “Please, sir,” she said.  “I can’t take off my clothes in public.  I’ll be arrested.”

He considered that.  “Very well.  You can judge whether you’ll be arrested, and if you think you will you are excused.  But only arrest.  Any lesser consequence – including extreme humiliation – is acceptable.”

She nodded.

“I also want you to print out a couple of thousand pictures of yourself naked,” he said.  “I’ll send you some of my collection, but maybe take a couple of extra pictures of yourself too.  About 10 different pictures, repeated a hundred times each, should be fine.  Print them on the lowest quality paper you can find, and take them home, and use them as toilet paper.  I like the idea of you wiping your cunt or your ass with your own face.”

She nodded.

Lachlan looked at his computer, and typed for a bit, leaving Sarah kneeling beside him, waiting.

Finally he said, “And I’ve booked you a meeting with some of the men from the office,” he said.  “You’re due to attend in two hours.  You’re going to give a short talk about why women are inherently sluts who deserve to be raped, do you understand?”

She had a worried expression.

“Just men in this meeting, Kitten,” he told her.  “And ones that will be receptive to your topic.”  

In fact it would be Vivaan, Trent, Armin, and a few others, who not only knew what a slut Sarah was, but had fucked her at her gang-rape party.  They would enjoy this show.

“And while you are speaking, Kitten,” he told her, “you are going to wet yourself.  And then clean it up as I have told you.”

He had promised her he would do this to her.  He needed to follow through on the promise.

And to his delight, even as she looked horrified, part of her expression was of lust.  She was so fucked up now – so guilty, so confused – that she craved this degradation, this humiliation.  Her pussy had probably been throbbing with desire as she deliberately chose this exact surrender.

“You might need to do something special for the men so that they don’t report you wetting yourself in the office,” said Lachlan.  “Why don’t you let them play with your tits – their last chance to play with this version before the upgrade – and then fuck you?”

===

Lachlan didn’t need to attend the meeting.  He had other things to do, and in any case Vivaan filmed it, and sent him a copy, as well as distributing it amongst some of the other men in the office.  Sarah did indeed look absolutely gorgeous, in the full flower of her humiliation, as she released her bladder in public in front of men, and she looked even hotter as she scampered to clean up her mess using her skirt with her ass and cunt exposed.

He stayed late to watch what she did before heading home – and, as he had suspected, the silly little slut used the work photocopiers to create her thousand nude images, after everyone else had left.

Pissing on the floor at work was definitely a Code of Conduct violation.  Using the photocopiers for personal use was another.

Sarah was falling quickly now.  Soon every last piece of her would belong to Lachlan.

And then he could remake her into whatever he chose.

===

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Sarah's descent into surrender accelerates.