alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 8

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

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Bunny spent the afternoon at her desk in Female Resources.  Emma had forwarded her nearly 20 emails, with the instruction, “Process these.”

She looked at the emails.  Each was from a male employee of Kavenagh & True, and each described a sexual interaction with a female employee.  There were reports of receiving blowjobs, of fucking women in the pussy or the ass, of cumming on women’s faces.  Most of them included photos of the relevant women naked or semi-naked, sometimes with cum on their skin or dripping from their cunts.

Bunny went to see Emma, crawling through the dog door into her office.

“What are these emails about?” she asked Emma.  “They look like rape confessions.”

“They’re just regular reports of sexual interactions between co-workers,” said Emma.  “It’s company policy that all activity that results in male orgasm has to be reported to Female Resources.  What I want you to do is update the women’s files with the pictures and the commentary on their sexual performance, and then send them an email asking them to confirm they consented to the interaction, and seeking their plan on how they will respond to the feedback from their partner.”

Bunny wrinkled her nose.  “What if they didn’t consent?” she asked.

“Then they’ll be fired,” said Emma.  “Non-consensual sex is illegal, and Kavenagh & True doesn’t employ criminals.  Their file will be amended before departure to note their participation in a sexual assault.”

“But what about the men?” asked Bunny.  “Aren’t they the ones to blame?”

Emma’s eyes widened.  In a hushed voice, she said, “Bunny, in Kavenagh & True, the men are never the ones to blame.”  Then, in a louder voice, she said, “The men in those incidents are referred to a training course to improve their skills in gaining consent. Male employees at Kavenagh & True are generally better educated, more reliable and more productive than women, and the company is prepared to make a greater investment in retaining them.”

Bunny spoke in a whisper.  “Emma – you used to be a feminist icon.  Why do you support such a sexist company?”

Emma’s eyes flashed with alarm.  “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Fuckbunny,” she hissed.  “If you can’t keep your stupid bitchy thoughts to yourself, you’ll get us both in trouble.  Just do as you’re told.”

Bunny pressed her lips together in frustration.  But clearly Emma wasn’t willing to talk about this.

“Fine,” she said.  “But what’s this business about feedback?”

“We value good employee relations,” said Emma.  “If a man gets a blowjob from a woman, and says she wasn’t submissive enough and she didn’t swallow, we want to hear a solid plan from the woman as to how she will be more pleasing in future.  And it goes into their file, and we check from time to time that they have followed through on that plan.  Just a basic quality improvement process.”

===

Bunny carefully entered each sexual interaction on the file of the relevant woman, and uploaded the pictures to the Female Resources database.  She found that many women in the company had such pictures on their files, showing them pre- or post-fucking.  Some looked happy and eager to be fucked.  Some did not.  Most had comments and tips from their sexual partners.  “Gets wet when called a cunt.”  “Squeals like a pig when you slap her tits.”  “Not on birth control – begs you not to cum in her pussy, goes wild when you do it anyway.”


 She sent an email to each woman asking them to confirm their consent, and including the feedback of their sexual partners.  “Daryl says your tits are too small.”  “Evan was disgusted that you didn’t swallow his cum.”  “Mark is unhappy that your cunt wasn’t wet even after being slapped across the face five times.”

She received replies in every case with surprising speed.  Every woman confirmed she had consented to her treatment, and offered a surprisingly submissive plan for improvement.  “I’ve booked myself in for a breast enhancement.”  “I’m going to listen to a sleep-training tape to teach me to love cum.”  “Each night this week I’ll watch porn of women being slapped while I masturbate, until it turns me on.”

One report puzzled Bunny, though, because the woman who was described didn’t appear to be an employee of the company.  The girl in the photo was a pretty blonde teenager.  She looked like she was drunk.  She was naked, and her legs were spread, with cum leaking from her cunt onto the couch she was sprawled across.

“Who is this?” she asked Emma, shortly before 5 pm.  

“Oh, that’s Rhia, the daughter of Molly, who sits at the next row over from you,” said Emma.  “Rhia’s 18 now, so Molly’s been encouraging the men up in corporate to make use of her.  But it looks like she’s forgotten to make a Female Resources entry for her first.  Can you create one?”

“But… she’s not an employee,” said Bunny.

“We have database entries for lots of non-employees,” said Emma.  “Wives and daughters and sisters and mothers of our employees.  Plus some women who work at rival firms, and a few politicians and celebrities.  Basically any woman whose sexuality we know anything about.  Molly wants a payrise, so she took her daughter to a party with corporate, and got her drunk, and it looks like Julian Caruso ended up fucking her.  Molly will convince her daughter that being raped by Julian is normal and that she deserved it, and Julian will see that Molly gets that pay rise.  Presumably some of that money will trickle down to Rhia, so everyone benefits.”

“But why do we keep this file on her?” asked Bunny.

“Firstly because Molly needs to get her daughter to confirm her consent,” said Emma.  “Otherwise Molly will be fired.  But also because those photos of her lying on her back nude with Julian’s cum on her are valuable.  Firstly, a lot of men and women in the company will enjoy looking at them.  But secondly, they might eventually encourage her to come work here at Kavenagh & True.  Or if she ever ends up working somewhere else – like as a police officer, or a lawyer, or a journalist – they might convince her to do her job in a way that benefits the men who run our company.”

Bunny felt sick.  But when she went back to her computer, she discovered Emma was right.  Kavenagh & True kept files on nearly a thousand women who weren’t employees, and each one contained some compromising sexual secret on the woman involved.  Many had been raped by a man who worked for Kavenagh & True – with accompanying photographs – but some were merely notes of women who had had affairs, or who were closeted lesbians, or who had embarrassing kinks.  Each was more than sufficient to provide a foundation for blackmail.

Bunny made a file for Rhia, and emailed Molly asking for the consent documentation.  Molly had it ready to go – a video of her own daughter, naked from the waist up, looking miserable as she said, “I cockteased Mr Caruso into fucking me.  He didn’t want to do it, but I made him.  It was all my idea, and I orgasmed when he ejaculated into me.”

Emma made Bunny send a copy to Julian Caruso.  “For his enjoyment,” she explained.

===

Bunny came back to work the next day in a new set of her own clothes.  She was determined that today she wouldn’t rip or misplace her outfit.  She could surely get through a whole day without having to borrow clothes from Tim.

But her first job still turned out to be visiting Tim in his office.  Emma had a folder of documents that she wanted Bunny to deliver to Emma’s supervisor.

Bunny headed up to the 9th Floor, and then crawled through the dog door into Tim’s office.  He didn’t immediately acknowledge her, and Bunny thought about standing, but was worried Tim would be angry at her if she did.  She remained on all fours for a while – until a new thought came to her.

Carefully, she rose to her knees, and then raised her hands in front of her tits like paws, and opened her mouth.

Tim finally looked over at her.  “Good cunt,” he said, and threw a small brown object into Bunny’s open mouth.  Cat food again.  But Bunny swallowed obediently.

“I have files for you from Emma, sir,” she said, once the kitten treat was in her belly.  She held out the folder.

Tim looked puzzled.  “From who?”

“Emma, sir,” said Bunny.

“Try again,” said Tim.

Bunny was confused – and then suddenly understood.  She blushed.  “I mean, from Sugar-Tits, sir.”

“Thank you, Fuckbunny,” said Tim, and took the folder from her.  “Do you need a spanking today?”

Bunny opened her mouth to say, “No” – and then had a sudden premonition that Tim might tell her she was wrong, and explain why she *did* need a spanking.  But she didn’t want to say yes either.

A clever compromise occurred to her.  “Not yet, sir,” she said.

Tim smiled – apparently appreciating her answer, and how she had arrived at it.  “Good to hear,” he said.  He passed her a different folder.  “Take this to Sugar-Tits, would you?  It’s a new team-building policy that I want her to implement immediately in Female Resources.”

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny.  “Thank you, sir.”  And she crawled back out of his office.

===

Emma frowned as she looked over Tim’s new policy, with Bunny waiting nervously on the other side of her office desk.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said.

“What do you mean?” asked Bunny.

“It’s a ‘female co-worker relationship policy’,” said Emma.  “It’s because of that catfight you had with Andrea White yesterday.  Tim says he doesn’t want to see female resources being bitchy like that to each other in public anymore, and so he’s instituted this new policy.”

“What does it say?” asked Bunny.

“We have to kiss,” said Emma.

Bunny was confused.  “What do you mean?”

“When two female resources are initiating a conversation with each other, or entering an area to use it as a shared workspace, they have to kiss each other,” said Emma.  “It’s going to promote better relationships between female resources.  Tim recommends that women start the day by kissing each of the co-workers in their workspace.  He suggests that kisses should involve the tongue, and involve some sort of hug or caress, to demonstrate sincerity.”

Bunny’s mind rebelled.  “I can’t…” she sputtered.  “I mean, that’s…”

“It’s your fault,” said Emma again.  “And either you can be a model employee and lead the culture on this new policy, or I can let all the other girls know that you’re to blame for it.  Which is it going to be, Fuckbunny?”

Bunny blushed.  She looked at the ground.

Emma stood and walked over to Bunny.  “Are you going to be a good girl, Bunny?” she asked.  “It took me a long time to learn to be a good girl, and fighting it only made me miserable.  Don’t make my mistakes.”

Bunny looked up into her boss’ eyes.  She *was* miserable.  She had somehow become stuck in this horrible misogynistic nightmare, and she didn’t know how to get out.

She opened her mouth to say something – and Emma kissed her.

Her boss’ lips were soft and warm.  Emma wrapped one arm around the small of Bunny’s back, and tangled her other hand in Bunny’s hair.  Bunny felt Emma’s tongue push between her lips, entwining with her own tongue.

Bunny felt herself melt into her boss’ arms. Despite the humiliation of being forced to do this, by a man, at work…. It felt good.

It felt too good.

And suddenly, for the first time, a part of Bunny wanted to be a good girl.

===

You can get the complete e-book of Emma’s Division right now from AllTheseRoadworks.com for only $7.99 USD!  All 26 chapters, plus bonus content – and your purchase supports me to keep writing!  (Click here to view in store!)

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Bunny processes reports of sexual interactions within the company.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 1

(You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Division by clicking here.)

=== 

Bunny Penrose was nervous, arriving for her first day of work at Kavenagh & True.  She had obtained excellent marks in college, and she knew that she deserved the job at the prestigious firm.  She had graduated from her bachelor’s degree at the age of 21, and she knew she was smart, motivated and ambitious.  And yet, she suspected that she had gotten the job not because of her qualifications, but because of the size of her lewd, embarrassing fake tits – the E-cup plastic boobs that she hated, that made her look like a sex-doll in even the most concealing clothing.

If she had had the choice, she would never have gotten the plastic surgery.  But Bunny’s circumstances were somewhat unusual.

She had arrived for her first day dressed in a smart, well-tailored business suit, and was reassured to find that she was clearly better dressed than the lobby receptionist, who appeared to be wearing a rather tight evening dress.  

She was also wearing a dog-collar, with a little name-tag hanging from it that read “Sweet-Cheeks”, and beneath it a silver charm in the shape of a Playboy logo.  Bunny, who had been raised in a very feminist household – albeit under some unusual conditions – felt herself tense up at the self-demeaning outfit.  Didn’t this woman have any dignity?

“Ah, Miss Penrose,” said the secretary, checking her computer.  “You’re expected in Emma’s Division.  Seventh floor, through the door in front of you, and then the office at the far end of the building from the lifts”

“Thank you,” said Bunny.  She unconsciously ran a hand over her honey-blonde hair – still pulled back in a ponytail – and headed towards the elevators that the secretary pointed at.

The elevator arrived promptly, and Bunny stepped in.  Two men got in with her – both older than her, and dressed in expensive suits.  They moved to the back corners of the elevator carriage, leaving Bunny to stand awkwardly near the doors.

As the doors closed, and the lift started to move upwards, Bunny jumped.  Someone had just touched her ass!  She had felt fingers on her upper thighs, just below the bottom of her short business skirt.  She cast a shocked look over her shoulder, and took a half-step forward towards the doors – but she couldn’t tell which of the men had touched her.  Both looked innocent.

She looked forward again, blushing intensely.  The harassment was wildly inappropriate – but she didn’t want to start an argument on her first day on the job if she didn’t need to.  Surely they wouldn’t dare do it again.

On the first floor, the doors opened, and another man stepped in.  She recognised this one – it was William True, the son of firm founder Balthazar True, now himself in his forties.  He was distinguished, and radiated power and wealth.  Bunny backed up towards the two men in the rear of the carriage to give him room.  Mr True accepted the space as his due – but continued to stand facing Bunny, rather than looking at the doors.  It felt strange and awkward.

“Ah,” he said, looking down at Bunny – or rather, she realised, looking at her large tits.  “You’re the new hire, I believe.  What was the name?  Fuckbunny Penrose?”

Bunny blushed, as she always did when someone used her full name.  “Yes, sir,” she said.  “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Unusual name, don’t you think?” asked Mr True, smiling.

Bunny opened her mouth to reply – but instead, she yelped.  The hand was back on her ass – and it was sliding up under the hem of her skirt, moving up her inner thigh towards her pussy.

“Something the matter, Miss Penrose?” asked Mr True.

Bunny’s eyes were wide.  Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, trying to hold it down as the hand went up between her legs.  She didn’t dare look over her shoulder.  She knew that making a sexual harassment allegation on her first day was a great way to lose her job – or be doomed to being given the garbage jobs, and talked about behind her back.  From the angle of the hand, whichever man was molesting her had to be bending over, or squatting.  Couldn’t Mr True see what was happening?

“No, sir,” squeaked Bunny, trying to pretend everything was normal.

The hand slid further up between her legs, moving with irresistible force, parting her legs slightly even as she tried to clamp them together.  She felt a finger brush across the lacy crotch of her panties.

“I asked about your name, Miss Penrose,” Mr True repeated.

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny.  “My mother and my father divorced when my mother was still pregnant with me.  My father was quite rich, and my mother was not.  My father agreed to establish a sizeable trust fund for me, on several conditions, and my mother accepted rather than leave us both poor.”

Bunny broke off, and gasped.  The hand between her thighs had just twitched her panties aside, and she felt one finger begin to tease gently at her cunt lips.  Traitorously, her pussy was beginning to respond to the molestation by becoming wet, and she knew that soon the finger would discover the moistness of her arousal between her pussy lips.  She fought off the urge to reach behind her and slap at the hand, and just tried – in vain – to clench her legs together tighter.

She went on.  “One of the conditions was that he got to choose my name, and that I keep and use it for as long as I wanted access to the trust fund.  My mother was a feminist, and my father hated her, so he named me Fuckbunny just to spite her.  We went to court over it, and the judge ruled that I could go by a shortened form of it in casual situations – like, Bunny – but I had to use the full version in formal contexts.”

She whimpered suddenly.  The finger had made its way past her cunt lips, and was now pushing up into her fuckhole – which was becoming progressively wetter and better-lubricated with each second.  It was becoming hard to think about anything except her pussy.  She heard a cruel snicker from behind her, but still wasn’t sure which man it was.

“And the other conditions, Fuckbunny?” asked Mr True.

“I had to get a… breast enhancement on my 18th birthday,” said Bunny – and then stopped.  The other conditions weren’t ones she liked to share with people.  Mr True didn’t need to know about them.

The finger began to pump slowly in and out of Bunny’s cunt.  She was unable to stifle a slutty moan – and then she did something that filled her with shame: she parted her legs slightly, to give it better access.  The guilt of doing so was almost overwhelming, but if she struggled further, she might fall over, or otherwise cause a scene – and besides, it felt so good…

“Well, you have fantastic sex-melons, Fuckbunny,” said Mr True enthusiastically.  “I think you’ll fit in here just fine.”

Bunny blushed at the backhanded compliment – and took a half-step backwards to allow her molester a greater ability to finger her fuckhole.  The fingers inside her felt so good.  She wished he would finger-rape her faster.  She felt like she might be able to cum…

There was a “ding” – and the doors opened.  She was on the seventh floor.

“I believe this is your stop, Fuckbunny,” said Mr True, smiling.

The hand vanished from between her legs so quickly she wondered whether it had ever been there.

Her face flushed, her mind dazed, Bunny took a couple of tottering steps forward, exiting the lift.  “Thank you,” she said, not entirely knowing whether she was thanking Mr True for his compliment, or thanking her abuser for letting her go – or thanking him for abusing her in the first place.

She briefly thought of finding a toilet, and masturbating, and finishing the job her molester had started – but that was crazy, wasn’t it?  She was about to start a new career in a prestigious firm.  She had to get it together.

She straightened her skirt, and took a deep breath.  Behind her, the elevator doors closed, and Mr True and the two men were whisked away to some destination on a higher floor.

She was in a small lobby area.  No receptionist here – just a couple of chairs to wait in by the lifts.  And ahead was a door, leading to a wide open-plan office area, staffed almost exclusively by women.

And above the door was a sign that gave her pause.  In firm Helvetica script at the top of the sign it read “FEMALE RESOURCES DEPARTMENT”.

Beneath that, in pink crayon, someone had written “EMMA’S DIVISION!” in curly, flowing letters.  The dot over each of the Is was a love heart.

And beneath that – and this was clearly part of the original sign as printed, which was somehow the worst part of all – was the stylised silhouette of a nude big-titted woman, ass up, tits down, crawling like a dog.

Bunny briefly considered turning and leaving immediately – going back down the horrible elevator and fleeing the building.  

But she didn’t.  Because she was a capable young woman who didn’t give in to her fear.  So instead, she stepped through the doorway, into the female resources department…

… and into a life that would soon make the harassment she had received in the elevator look like nothing more than a handshake between colleagues.

===

You can get all 26 chapters of Emma’s Division in a single premium e-book for only $7.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store!  Plus your purchase helps me to keep creating hot new stories like this! (Click here to view in store.)

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The sequel to Emma's Policy! Bunny Penrose takes a humiliating new role at Kavenagh & True in the division that Emma helped create.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 13

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

(Click here to buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

Emma stood in front of the board of Kavenagh & True, in her ridiculously whorish outfit, with wet cum on her face and tits.

“As you can see, gentlemen,” she said, “women are delivering outstanding value to this company.”

She had never been more nervous in her life.  Behind her, on the large screen, was a graph reconstructed as best as she could remember from the figures she had seen on Tim’s desk.  It showed that her diversity policy, which prioritised the hiring and support of women, was finally delivering palpable value to her company.

The twelve men of the Kavenagh & True board shifted uncomfortably in their seats in the opulent boardroom.

“What was your name again, sweetie?” asked Bill Truman, an older gentleman with a thick white moustache.

“Sugar-Tits, sir,” said Emma.  “I used to be called Emma.  I used to work on the seventh floor, but now I work to Tim in HR.”

“Can’t say I recall you,” said Truman.  “Do you really work for the company?”

“Yes, sir,” said Emma.   “I’ve worked here for years…”

“I don’t remember an Emma,” said another man – Terrence Smith, overweight and wealthy.  “But I remember seeing some slutty little cunt running around half-naked in the last few weeks.”

Emma paused, not wanting to reply – but seeing the entire room staring at her sceptically, she said, quickly, “Yes, sir, that was me.”

“Hmm, was it?” asked Smith.   “Hard to tell with all that mess on your face, girl.”

Bill Truman chuckled.   “You don’t remember women’s faces anyway, Terry, just their cunts.”

“True, true,” said Smith.   “Do you really work here, girl?”

Emma was frantic.  This scenario had never occurred to her – that she might have changed so much that the board didn’t even believe she had a right to be there.  Were their memories really this bad?  Or were they just playing with her?  It didn’t matter – she could see that they were seriously considering telling her to sit down or leave the room.

“Maybe you’d remember if you saw my… pussy… sir,” said Emma, blushing.

“Hmm?” said Smith.  “Very well, show it to us.”

Emma went bright red – but she turned away from the table, and bent forward at the waist.  Her skirt rode up to expose her entire ass and pussy to the board.

There were murmurs.  “It’s a nice fuckhole,” said one man.

“Is she wet?” asked another.   

Terrence Smith grunted.   “I can’t see it properly, girl.  Spread it open for us.”

Emma whimpered – but reached behind herself, and used her fingers to spread open her pussy lips for the board to inspect her.

She wanted to cry – and the realisation that she was soaking wet, that her pussy was literally dripping with arousal in front of all these men, made it even worse.

“Yes, that rings a bell,” said Smith.  “Very well, Sugar-Tits.  Go on with what you were saying.”

“Well,” said Emma, beginning to straighten up.

“Stay put,” said Smith, sharply.  “No one said you could move.”

Emma took a deep breath, and remained in position, spreading her fuckhole to the men as she faced away from them.  

“As you can see,” she said, “women bring important assets to this company.  The true value of women is demonstrated by what you can see in front of you.”

There were chuckles from the board – and then, for no reason Emma could tell, loud laughter.

Emma looked up.  The view on the screen had changed.  It no longer showed her graph.  Instead, it was footage from her phone camera – footage she had filmed for Tim – of Emma and Bianca, both nude.  Emma was straddling Bianca’s face as Bianca licked her pussy, and with her free hands she was using a belt to whip Bianca’s pussy.

Emma straightened up, ignoring the disapproving noises from the board.  Tim was standing in one corner, grinning broadly.

The image on the screen changed again.  It was Emma again, and she was kneeling, cupping her naked tits.  

“Hi, I’m Emma!” said the bimbo on the screen.  “I find that women in the workplace are stupid and lazy.  Smart companies institute proper discipline for women.  I’d like to demonstrate what I think should be done to disobedient women in the workplace!”

Emma watched with horror as, in the video, Tim began to whip Emma’s breasts with a belt.  She had forgotten filming this, in amongst everything else that had happened since.  She watched as Tim abused her breasts until she was crying – and then blushed as the Emma in the video began to masturbate frantically, whorishly, until Tim began whipping her again.

Then she watched as Tim began to beat her sopping wet cunt with a wooden ruler – and on each agonising blow to her pussy, Emma visibly orgasmed.

At the end, Emma turned to the camera again, and said, ““I deserve everything that just happened to me,” said Emma, “because I’m a dumb bimbo who doesn’t produce as much value as a man.  I think with my tits and my cunt, and punishing them is the best way to correct my behaviour.  I urge the board of Kavenagh & True to apply this discipline program to every woman who works here, because after all, the only way that a slut will learn is if you hurt her.”

There were approving noises from the board.

“Tim, what are you doing?” hissed Emma.

“Yes, Tim, what is this about?” asked Truman.

“Thank you for asking,” said Tim, walking to the front of the room.  “As you are probably aware by now, Sugar-Tits here is fundamentally incompetent at her job and, in fact, barely literate.  The graph she has just shown you, with the upward trend – stolen from my office, I might add – does not relate to female productivity, but rather to male productivity in my unit.   And the sharp upward trend you can see doesn’t date from the start of the diversity policy, but rather from when I took control of Emma’s work unit and had her start working out of my office in her new uniform.”

Emma’s eyes widened.  The graph she had seen had certainly not been labelled in the way Tim suggested, and she realised now it had been a trap.  She had been *meant* to see that document, to keep her playing along with Tim up until today.

The screen changed to show a new graph.  This one was a clear downward slide.

“Here are the real numbers for the diversity policy,” said Tim.  “As you can see, the more respect and power we have given women, the more office conflict we have seen, and productivity has declined.”

He changed the screen back to a view of Emma and Bianca fucking.

“The natural inclination of women is not to work, but rather to jiggle their tits, suck men’s cocks, and rape other women,” said Tim.  “They can only be induced to do anything else by firm discipline applied painfully to their tits and cunts.  Once we realised these simple truths in my work area – that women are nothing but accessories and supports to male workers – we began to make gains that I think you will be very impressed by.”

He showed a series of further graphs – and Emma realised that she had been so divorced from real executive work over the last few months that she genuinely had no idea what these graphs showed, or what they meant.  She felt stupid – like the brainless secretary that Tim made her out to be.  But the men of the board were nodding approvingly.

The screen changed again.   It now read “EMMA’S POLICY”, and beneath it were a list of her rules – “Good girls call men sir”, “Good girls know that sexual interest is a compliment.”

“As you may be aware,” said Tim, “the contracts of women employed by this company allow us to specify any code of behaviour or uniform that we see fit.  I propose we implement my discipline and uniform plan throughout the company.   Any woman that refuses to follow our guidelines would be dismissed, without references, and we can see to it that she doesn’t get another job in our industry ever.  There will be some dissatisfaction, but the profits will speak for themselves.”

“No!” protested Emma.   “This is all wrong!  You can’t!”

Tim walked over to her and slapped her across the face.  “This is why cunts need discipline,” he said to the board.  

“I like it,” said Truman, and the rest of the board murmured their approval.  “Emma’s Policy.  Yes, we can call it that.  It will play better if it sounds like it’s coming from a woman.”

“No!” objected Emma.  “It’s not my policy!  I don’t agree with any of this!”

Tim slapped her again, and then pushed her back down so that she was showing her cunt to the board again.

“And you’ll head this policy up, Tim?” asked Terrence Smith.

“Well, at the top level I will,” said Tim.  “But I think there’s someone better to be in charge of actually implementing it.”

“Who’s that?” grunted Smith.

Tim patted Emma’s ass.   “Sugar-Tits.”

Emma squealed with rage, and struggled to stand, but couldn’t.

“If we put a woman in charge, it looks like change from within,” said Tim.  “It looks like what the women here want for themselves.  We can send Sugar-Tits to talk with all the business magazines to explain the benefits of the policy, and why women are basically nothing but cocksockets for male employees, and why they need their tits beaten by a man.”

“Are you sure she’s going to do this, Tim?” asked Truman.

Emma growled.  She absolutely was not!

“She absolutely will,” said Tim.  “Because it will be an executive position.  Oh, we’ll create a new *kind* of executive, for women, that’s paid less – call it something like ‘executrix’ or ‘executive with udders’ – but it will be the leadership role that she craves.  All the women in the company will be answerable to her.  Whereas if she doesn’t want to take the role, she has a choice between staying as my secretary, or being fired and having her repeated rape of her subordinate reported to the police.”

Emma froze with horror.   Not just at the consequences of refusing to accept – but at the realisation that she *wanted* this job.  She wanted her authority back.  She wanted to be an executive again.

She felt something penetrate her pussy – something cool and plastic – and realised that Tim had shoved one of the big fat whiteboard markers into her cunt, and was idly fucking her with it in front of the board.  She moaned, unable to stop herself.

“Well, Sugar-Tits, do you want the job?” asked Truman.

She moaned again.  She realised now that this was never going to be over – that the degradation she had been put through over the last three months was going to be her life, now and forever.  She hadn’t been playing the role of a big-titted bimbo – she had become one.  Emma was gone.  She was Sugar-Tits now.  It was her own fault – and the fault of her diversity policy.  She had tried to champion women, and women had let her down.

‘Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice.

“Well, if you want it, you should at least convince us you deserve it,” said Truman.  “Tell us why it should go to you.”

Sugar-Tits moaned again.   It was hard to think about anything but her cunt, and the feel of Tim fucking it with the whiteboard marker.  On the screen, the video again showed her raping Bianca.

“Sir, I’m a stupid big-uddered fucktoy,” said Sugar-Tits.  “And I’m one of the few women in the company who truly understands that.  I know that women deserve to be objectified, and humiliated, and raped, and have their tits and pussies beaten until they behave themselves.  I have demonstrated I can be an obedient little fuckpuppet for Tim, who is better than me in every way because he is a man, and I have been practicing raping other sluts and cumming from abusing them.  I am sure I can be a good little decoration for this company and help all the women who work here accept their new place as brainless sex-dolls.”

There was laughter throughout the entire boardroom at this.

“She’s crying,” said Tim, who was the only one who could see her face, “but also she’s sopping wet.  Watch this.”  And with that, he jammed the marker all the way into her cunt, and at the same time reached down and pinched Sugar-Tits’ clitoris hard.

She orgasmed.  She squealed, her knees went weak, and she fell to the floor, trembling and sobbing.

“Congratulations, Sugar-Tits,” said Truman.  “You’ve got the job.”  There was more laughter, and then the sound of chairs being pushed back as the members of the board rose to their feet.

Sugar-Tits knew what was coming – and sure enough, Tim was picking her up, removing the rest of her skimpy outfit until she was nude, and bending her over the boardroom table.  And shortly afterwards, she felt Truman’s dick slide into her pussy from behind, as he began to fuck her.

Each member of the board was going to rape her.  She knew she would cum from it – many times.  She wasn’t on birth control, so it was quite likely she would be pregnant by the time she left the room.  Tim was filming it all, his camera fixed on the traumatised, degraded, lustful look on her face, and she knew he would make her masturbate to the footage of her own rape later.

She would lead the new taskforce to reform the women of Kavenagh & True.  She would be the face of Emma’s Policy – a policy of misogyny and objectification.  Her whole career had been leading to this – a role organising the humiliation and rape of her fellow female professionals.

But at least she would still be an executive.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and she wasn’t sure whether she was thanking Truman for violently raping and impregnating her pussy, or thanking Tim for blackmailing her, abusing her, and ruining her life.

But either way, with her tits squashed against the mahogany of the board table, her face covered in cum, and a cock violating her fuckhole…

… she meant it.

===

That was the final chapter of Emma’s Policy!  If you’ve loved the story, then grab a copy of the e-book for only $4.99 USD in the ATR store! (Click to view Emma’s Policy in the ATR store!)

But the story doesn’t stop there!  It continues in the sequel, Emma’s Division – a longer and more extreme tale – that you can get for just $7.99 USD right now in the ATR store! (Click to view Emma’s Division in the store.)

===

The final chapter! Emma defends her policy - and faces the consequences!

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 12

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

(Click here to buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

Today was the day.  Emma’s long saga of degradation was about to be over, and she would have her revenge on Tim, and set the world back to the way it should be.

The final week had been hard.  Tim had raped her twice every day, and beaten her tits and cunt with his belt for infractions, real and imagined, in the mornings, afternoons, and at lunch.  

Only three days ago, he had held a little office party for his team, where Emma had been made to openly masturbate in front of her former subordinates while Tim had set fire to her university degrees.  

She had cried and orgasmed as she watched her Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts go up in smoke.  They were just paper – she could order replacements from the university – but deep down she knew that she didn’t deserve them anymore.   She was a stupid little bimbo secretary slut masturbating in public, not a university graduate.

Tim had replaced them above her desk with a framed copy of her legal change of name to “Sugar Tits”, and certificates that he had made himself asserting that she had “Grade A Udders” and was a “Barely Acceptable Fuck”.  He had also somehow found a copy of her report card from grade 3 at primary school, complete with her teacher’s notation that she “showed a positive attitude but struggled with reading comprehension”, and had that framed and hung as well.

Where another person might have a photo on their desk of their spouse or sweetheart, Tim had placed a photograph of Emma tongue-kissing her subordinate, Bianca.  Both girls were nude in the photo and their bare tits, crushed against each other, were clearly visible.  In the equivalent position on Bianca’s desk was a close-up photo of Emma’s naked cunt, with the caption “Sugar Tits” to help people identify it.

During the day, Emma and Bianca took turns kneeling under Tim’s desk to suck his cock.  When he ejaculated, the lucky girl who was sucking him would emerge with the cum in her mouth, to share it with her manager / subordinate in a slutty lesbian kiss while Tim watched.

By night, Emma took Bianca home with her.  Raping Bianca was the only time Emma felt like she was in control of her own life anymore, and she took pleasure in venting the humiliation and violation she endured every day at work on the unfortunate little slut.  The defiance and brattiness that the girl had originally shown had melted away entirely, and now she was proactive in pleasing both Emma and Tim in the hopes of avoiding another slap, spanking or pussy-whipping.  Emma judged that Bianca was becoming a very talented cunt-licker, and took some pride in her role in that process.

Neither of the women were sleeping well.  Tim had bought both girls “pagers”, which were not pagers at all but rather evil little devices that clipped to a girl’s pussy lips near the top, sitting so as to be in contact with her clitoris.  They gripped lightly enough that they could stay on all day long, but strongly enough that they didn’t come loose without being manually released.  Tim could activate the devices remotely via the internet, and when activated they delivered a sharp electric shock, followed by several minutes of sustained vibration.  When the girls felt their “pagers” go off, they were supposed to ring Tim immediately for instructions.  

Tim had mostly been enjoying setting the pagers off in the hours between midnight and 5 am.  When the girls rang him, they would hear a recorded message telling them to send Tim photos of themselves kissing nude in Emma’s front yard.   The girls, sleepy and confused, would lez off on camera in public in the cold night air, while Tim slept soundly, having scheduled the pagers to not let the girls get more than a couple of hours’ sleep per night.

The pagers had an extra side effect, because the long vibration of the pager against their clits was confusing the sexuality of the girls.  Both Emma and Bianca were coming to associate sharp electric shocks to their pussy with arousal, and also associating Tim giving them instructions with arousal.   Emma knew it was happening, and she hated it, but she was powerless to stop it.  The last couple of nights she had woken up before her scheduled shock, already wet, moaning and massaging her tits as she waited to receive the painful zap to her twat.

But today was the day.   She was due to make a presentation to the board on her diversity policy – the policy whose apparent lack of success had led to her humiliating blackmail by Tim.  But she had seen the report he had tried to hide from her.  The numbers had turned around.  Her policy was working.

She hadn’t been able to see the full documentation, of course.  In her new position as Tim’s secretary she didn’t have the authority to request any of the relevant information.  But she could call for it, in front of the entire board, and Tim would have to provide it.   He would be expecting her to admit that she was a stupid cow and that her policy had been a disaster.  He had no idea she knew the truth.

That morning, she dressed in her humiliating porn secretary outfit for what she assumed would be the last time.   Her tiny black skirt went on, without panties.  Tim had clipped another half-inch off the bottom last week, and now the bottom of her pussy was visible even when she was standing up straight.  She wore stockings, and heels – now increased to seven inches, and she could barely walk in them.  Her giant fake tits went into an uplifting half-cup bra whose fabric stopped short of covering her nipples, and a mostly transparent tight white blouse went on over the top.   And she completed it with the velvet kitten-collar with her name-tag hanging from it – “Sugar-Tits”.

Bianca accompanied her, similarly dressed, having spent the night in Emma’s bed licking her pussy, and they both set out for the office in Emma’s car.

The meeting was first thing in the morning, and Emma had intended to head straight there, but she was stopped in the lobby of the office building by Tim.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sugar-Tits?” he asked her suspiciously.

“To the board meeting,” Emma said.  “My policy is on the agenda.  You can’t stop me attending.”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing.  “You’ll do your morning duties first,” he said, finally.

“Fuck off,” said Emma, trying to push past him.

“You’ll do your duties,” hissed Tim, grabbing her arm, “or we’ll discuss with HR how you’ve been sexually harassing little Honeybee.  What was it she used to call herself?  Bianca, was it?  Have you just been harassing her – or have you been actually raping her?  Slutty little rapist Sugar-Tits, is that what we should call you?   Should we bother with HR, or just go straight to the police?”

Emma’s face flushed, and she looked around to see if anyone had heard.  “I only did what you made me do!” she whispered.

“Come now, Sugar-Tits, we both know that’s not true,” said Tim.  “Now come do your duties, and if you’re a good slut, I’ll let you go to the meeting.”

Emma was defeated, and she knew it.  She followed Tim meekly to his office, and crawled under his desk to perform her “duties” – a thorough blowjob.

But when she had sucked Tim’s cock to orgasm, he didn’t cum down her throat like he usually did.  Instead, he pulled her head off his cock by the hair, and then ejaculated messily across her face and tits.  Emma recoiled in disgust, and went to wipe herself clean.

“Leave it,” said Tim.   “You can go to the meeting – and avoid a call to the police – if, and only if, you leave that mess exactly where it is.”

“I can’t!” wailed Emma.   “I look disgusting!”

“You’ve always looked disgusting, you little slut,” said Tim.  “Nothing has changed.  Now are you going to the meeting dressed like the cum-whore you are?  Or are you sitting this one out?”

Emma couldn’t miss the meeting.  It was her last chance to end this nightmare of degradation.  To go like this would be humiliating – but all that mattered was the numbers, right?   Her policy was a success.

“I’ll go,” she said, climbing out from under the desk.

“There’s a good little Sugar-Tits,” said Tim, approvingly.  “Now let’s all go down to the board meeting, and hear you apologise for being a dumb slut with an idiotic diversity policy, shall we?”

The numbers would prove her right.  She just had to hold onto that.

“Yes,” said Emma, smiling through the glaze of cum on her face.  “Let’s do that.”

===

You can get the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy in the All These Roadworks store right now for only $4.99 USD!  Plus your purchase supports the creation of hot new content!  (Click here to view in store.)

===

Emma prepares for her final make-or-break presentation on her policy.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 11

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

(Click here to buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

Emma passed Honeybee the phone.

“Sir?” said Honeybee in a quavering voice.  “May I have permission to remove my clothes so that Sugar-Tits can hit my cunt with a belt?”

“Yes, sweetie, you have permission,” came Tim’s voice down the phone line.  “But you only have permission to put them back on again if you cum from something that Emma does to you before work starts tomorrow, understood?”

The girl who had once been known as Bianca looked like she might cry.  “Yes, sir,” she squeaked.

Emma took the phone from her.  “Strip, you little bitch,” she said.  She had received her own permission to undress moments earlier, and had quickly stripped naked.  Tim had given her the same admonition as Honeybee – she could only put her clothes back on if Bianca made her cum.  She had never considered herself a lesbian, and part of her was already planning for travelling to work tomorrow completely naked.  But her pussy was wet, and nothing was certain, and anyway this little redhead skank needed to be punished.

They were at Emma’s house. It was evening, and Emma had informed Bianca that she was required to attend an after-work training session, that was to mostly consist of punishing Bianca for being a slut in the now-traditional office manner – having her cunt beaten mercilessly.

Bianca had been working for Emma for four days, since Monday, and now it was Thursday night, and the girl’s attitude had definitely turned around.

She had confronted Bianca in the women’s toilets on the first day (after securing permission from Tim to piss).  She had told Bianca that she would be expected to call Tim “sir” from now on, and act in a way that helped him picture raping her, along with following the rest of Emma’s rules.   

Bianca, not believing Emma was serious, had laughed in Emma’s face, and turned to leave the toilets.

Emma’s tits had still been on fire from the whipping she had received when Bianca had last failed to call Tim “sir”, and she was frantic at the idea of the little bitch causing Emma to receive further punishment.  She had grabbed the back of Bianca’s blouse, intending to pull her back into the toilets, but the blouse had ripped, and Bianca had turned around to fight Emma, her clothing falling away from her bare tits, and suddenly Emma found herself slapping the girl hard across the face, and then slapping her again.

“Listen, you little slut,” Emma had hissed.  “My life is bad enough right now and you are not going to fuck it up further.  Tim is your god now, and you will show him respect, or else I will beat that whorish little cunt of yours until you scream.  And if you don’t like that, I’ll tell Tim you’re disobedient, and he’ll call the police about those drugs you were caught with.  Understand?”

Bianca’s face had gone white.  Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Emma had reached out and deliberately ripped the girl’s skirt, too.  The bitch was wearing cute underwear – lacy and blue.  “Understand?” she said again.

“Yes,” said Bianca.

It sounded wrong to Emma’s ears.  It was missing a “sir” – but of course, Emma wasn’t a sir.  She searched for what she wanted to hear.

“Yes, mistress,” corrected Emma.

Bianca’s eyes bulged, but she had obeyed.  “Yes, mistress,” she said quietly.

Afterwards, Bianca had been basically half-nude.  She endured a humiliating walk back to Tim’s office, in front of half the employees on the floor, where Tim graciously offered to let her spend the rest of the day hiding under his desk where no one could see her.

“Thank you, sir,” said Bianca, defeated, and crawled into the space beneath Tim’s desk.

When Tim moved his chair back into position to trap Bianca under the desk, and then took his stiff cock out of his fly, Bianca finally realised what her new job really was.

To her credit, she didn’t need to be told what to do, and it took her only a few minutes to take Tim’s cock into her mouth and start sucking.

Thereafter, Emma had set herself on a process of breaking Bianca down.  On Tuesday, she had introduced Bianca to her rules requiring her to seek permission to use the toilets or adjust her clothes – and then ensured that no one on the floor would give Bianca that permission.  The poor girl wet herself a little after lunch.  In Emma’s estimation, there was nothing quite like pissing yourself in front of everyone you worked with to make you understand you were nothing but a disgusting little slut.

That was the last time Bianca wore panties, ever.  Emma threw the ones the girl had pissed in into the bin, and the next day she made the girl bring in all the underwear she owned, and then feed it into the paper shredder, one pair of panties at a time, in front of the whole floor.  When Bianca balked at the idea of permanently destroying her panties, Emma ripped off the girl’s skirt and fed that into the shredder first.  Bianca had at least obeyed her instruction to not wear panties to work, so the girl was now nude from the waist down, bare-cunted and humiliated.  By the time she had destroyed the last of her panties, with a crowd of men hooting and cat-calling, Emma could see she was a defeated woman.  

But of course, she wasn’t done yet.  Bianca then had to go to each man who had made lewd comments as she shredded, and thank them for their sexual interest in her, and help them picture raping her.

Emma would always remember the precise moment when Bianca had realised she was about to be gang-raped.   It was while she was kneeling in front of Harry Tuffle from the third floor, gently stroking his cock through his pants as she thanked him for speculating on whether he could fit a bottle of champagne up her fuckhole.  The other men she had already thanked were crowding closer, and they all had erections, and one of them had just looked briefly at Emma and Emma had nodded – yes, this was okay.   

Bianca felt something bump against the back of her head, and turned to see what it was, only to discover it was a naked, hard cock, exposed from a man’s pants, and now it was bumping against her face, smearing pre-cum on her.  And then she heard Harry unzipping *his* pants, and suddenly she knew she was going to be raped, right here, at work, by a gang of men.

Emma remembered it very clearly because she had, herself, orgasmed, from the look on Bianca’s face and nothing else.  She didn’t know why.  Partly it was remembering her own gang rapes.  Partly it was envy, wanting to be raped again.  Partly it was anticipation of the erotic sight of this cute little bitch becoming a plaything for this group of men.

And partly it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone.  When she had been raped, it had been special – just her.  She was the only slut in the office.  Nice girls didn’t get gang raped, just Emma.

But now it was happening to another girl.  She wasn’t alone.  She wasn’t special.  Girls just got raped in this office, and that was that.  She didn’t have to feel bad about it.  It was a special kind of sisterhood.

Bianca had opened her mouth to scream, and then a man had plugged it with his cock, and that was the last coherent sound that Bianca made for quite some time thereafter.

Now Bianca and Emma were alone, in Emma’s house, and Bianca was removing the last of her clothes, as Tim had given her permission to do.

“Lie down on my bed, and spread your legs,” said Emma.  “Don’t even think about closing them, no matter what happens.”

Bianca – Honeybee – did as she was told, her eyes already teary in anticipation of what was to come.  “Yes, mistress,” she squeaked.

Emma had intended to stand next to the bed to discipline Honeybee, but now she saw that would give her an awkward angle, and anyway, her cunt had become distractingly wet from remembering Honeybee’s rape today.  So instead she climbed onto the bed, and knelt with one leg on either side of Honeybee’s face, facing down towards the girl’s cunt.  This put her pussy directly over Honeybee’s face.

She felt a rope of thick, sticky arousal-juice drool down from her cunt lips and land on Bianca’s lips.   She felt Bianca flinch, pressing her face into Emma’s thigh to escape the drip, and it felt so immediately erotic that she got even wetter.

She took up the leather belt, laid it between Bianca’s legs to find her aim, then raised it, swung, and belted Honeybee’s cunt with it.

Honeybee squealed, and tried to close her legs.  Emma forced them open, and in leaning forward to do so her pussy was pressed hard against Bianca’s mouth.  The little bitch’s squeal turned into a muffled moan, and Emma’s own mouth opened wide with sudden pleasure.

It felt so *good* to have Bianca’s mouth against her pussy.  Not just for the physical sensation – although that was intense and amazing – but for the psychological feeling of having made the spoiled little slut just *shut up*.  

She kept her pussy against the girl’s mouth as she straightened, and even began to hump it a little.

“Lick,” she commanded, and sighed happily as she heard Bianca make a muffled “Yes, mistress” into her cunt, and then begin tongueing her clitoris.

“This is the only stimulation I’m going to give your cunt tonight,” said Emma, as she wiggled her groin against the girl’s mouth.  “I’ll keep whipping your cunt until you close your legs.  When you close your legs, we’re done.  You don’t get another chance to cum, and you go to work nude tomorrow.  If you want to cum, you have to do it from having your sluthole whipped.”

Bianca squealed with horror against Emma’s pussy again.  Emma liked the feeling.

“If you do a *very* good job licking me, then after every five strikes I’ll kiss your pussy,” added Emma, feeling generous.

Bianca’s only response was to begin licking much more vigorously.  Emma smiled.   Then she raised the belt, and brought it down on Honeybee’s fuckhole again.

The way the girl jumped was intensely pleasing.

As Emma whipped, she thought to herself that she was being very slutty.  She was going to have to tell Tim what a whore she was, so that he could punish her cunt exactly as she was now punishing Honeybee’s.

The thought just made her wetter.  And when she gave Honeybee’s pussy its first kiss – because Bianca was being a *very* good cuntlicker, after all – she discovered just how good another woman’s twat could taste, and after that her kisses weren’t so much kisses as long explorations of Honeybee’s fucktunnel using her tongue, and extended sessions of sucking on Bianca’s clitoris.

Bianca never did close her legs.  It took her 37 strokes of the belt to cum, and in the end she orgasmed not from Emma’s mouth, but from the pain.

“There there, Honeybee,” said Emma, to comfort the crying girl, stroking her abused clitoris.  “It’s not so bad.  It turns out you’re a very good twat-sucker.  I think you made me cum twice.  See?  You’re not completely talentless after all!”

Bianca tried to say something, but Emma pushed her cunt down harder on the girl’s face.

“No one said you could stop licking,” said Emma forcefully.  “In fact, you’re going to keep licking me all night long, even while I sleep.  There’s a lot of overtime in your new job, and I don’t think you really need a full night’s sleep, do you?”

She kissed Bianca’s clit again, making the girl buck with pleasure and pain – her cunt had been *quite* thoroughly bruised by the belt – and then added, “But of course, it’s very slutty to lick another woman’s cunt, so we’re probably going to have to go through this all again tomorrow morning.  Sluts need to be punished, after all…”

===

Love this story?  Show your appreciation and support its creation by buying the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy, available for only $4.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Emma plays with her new toy Honyebee.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 10

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

(Get the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy by clicking here!)

===

Emma was certain that she had ruined her life.  Or rather, she had let Tim ruin it.

Her plastic surgeon had been very good, really – her new fake tits hadn’t needed anything like the healing time that the internet had led her to expect.  But they were huge, and obvious, and none of Emma’s clothes fit properly anymore.  They bulged lewdly against the thin cloth of her blouse, and they hurt – all the time – because of how tightly crammed into her undersized bra they were.

Tim had already raped her three times since she had come back to work with her huge new fuckballoons, taking care to ejaculate in her pussy every time.  Since Emma had given up birth control on Tim’s instructions, she was in a state of constant panic about this, but Tim wouldn’t let her take a pregnancy test.  “I feel that pregnancy should be an interesting surprise for a woman,” he told her, and that was the end of that.

And today the first of her bank cards had arrived in her new name.  She had legally changed her name to Sugar-Tits – first name Sugar, last name Tits – and she felt a sick, humiliated arousal every time a new letter arrived for her, with a letter inside politely addressed to “Miss Tits”.

Tim had been there when the bank card arrived, because he had let himself into her house last night using her own keys – which he kept now for “safe-keeping” – to give her a “surprise raping” in the middle of the night.  Emma had never been more frightened than when she woke in darkness to find a man on top of her, his cock in her cunt – and to her shame, the fear had made her cum no less than three times, while Tim had ejaculated into her unprotected womb.

He had slept over, in her bed, telling her to sleep on the floor, and in the morning she had made him breakfast, without even having to be told, sucking his cock docilely as he ate.  When she brought in the mail from the letterbox, he made her give it to him, and he opened each of her letters, confiscating the bank card when he found it and telling her she could ask for his permission if she wished to use it.   She still didn’t know what had been in her other mail – Tim had simply said that she didn’t need to know, and kept the letters.

But on the Monday morning of Emma’s eleventh week of subjugation, just when she was thinking about giving up, a spark of hope arrived.

Emma had been delivering the documents that Tim had asked her (a photocopy of her own tits) for to his in-tray, while Tim had been out of the office at a meeting upstairs.  There, in the middle of his desk, were the most recent HR financial stats – including the stats on her own diversity policy!

Emma couldn’t help herself.   She picked up the papers and skimmed through them.  Understanding them was hard – she hadn’t had to look at any serious information in weeks, and everything that was happening to her made her feel stupider.  Her brain didn’t feel as complex as it once had.

But she got enough.  The numbers were turning around.  There was evidence that her diversity policy was beginning to yield quality, productivity and financial benefits for the company – at least, in every division other than the one that Tim was charge of.

She might yet win this.   She might be able to defend her policy, and get out from under Tim’s thumb.

There were only two weeks left till the company would be forced to formally assess her policy.   In a fortnight, her fate would be decided one way or the other.   Was there enough time for these numbers to reach the point that they needed to reach?  

She thought there was.

She carefully put the papers back where she had found them, and returned to her desk, lowering herself onto the dildos on her tiny stool and resuming work at her child-sized workstation.

===

When Tim returned, he had a girl with him.  She was pretty, in an innocent small-titted way, with long red hair and a cute little outfit that made her look attractive but unthreatening.  She was clearly distressed, and her makeup showed signs that she had been crying recently.

“This is Bianca,” said Tim, turning the girl to face Emma.  “Up until just now, she’s been working reception downstairs.  This morning, a random search turned up party drugs in her desk.  Her immediate supervisor wanted to call the police, but I’ve convinced them to give Bianca one last chance.  She’ll be working for me, now, as a second assistant.”

He turned to the girl.   “Honeybee, this is Sugar-Tits.  She’ll be your direct supervisor now.  You’ll be taking her duties of bringing me coffees and meals.  I expect you to follow any instruction she gives you, no matter what it is.  If I hear even a single complaint, I will not hesitate to call the police after all.”

He turned back to Emma.   “Sugar-Tits, I expect our little Honeybee here to follow the exact same protocol that you do.  If I’m unsatisfied with any aspect of her performance, you will receive an appropriate punishment on her behalf.”

“Yes, sir,” said Emma, already struggling to think through what this meant.  She had to get the girl to follow all her demeaning rules?  She couldn’t, could she?

“Honeybee, go fetch me a coffee, would you?” asked Tim.

“Absolutely,” said Bianca immediately.

Emma flinched at the missing “sir” in Bianca’s response.  “Maybe I should come with you,” she said quickly.  “Show you the ropes.”

Bianca looked at Emma, and couldn’t help a sneer of disgust at Emma’s big fake tits and childish workstation.   “I know how to make coffee,” she said, and set off for the coffee machine before Emma could stop her.

===

Emma cringed as Bianca returned and gave Tim his coffee.  

Tim took it in good grace, and then said, “Honeybee, go take a break, would you?  I want you back in an hour.”

“Sure, Tim!” said Bianca brightly, and Emma winced again, watching her leave.

Afterwards, Tim just looked at Emma.  Emma felt herself shrinking down.  She knew what he wanted.

“Sir, you need to punish me,” she said.  “I’m so sorry for being a stupid slut who didn’t make Bianca do things right.  You need to slap my face six times because she kept not calling you sir.  You need to whip my fuckmelons with a belt sixty times because of all the times she was disrespectful…”

Emma’s voice quavered and trailed off.  “Sir,” she said, “I don’t think I can *take* sixty hits on my udders…”

Tim was silent.  He just waited.

Eventually, Emma continued.   “And you need to spank my pussy, because I was sitting there with dildos in my holes like a dumb bitch while she was disrespecting you,” Emma finished, quietly.

“Good girl,” said Tim.   “Strip.”

“Sir?” asked Emma.  “My tits…”

“It will hurt a very great deal, Sugar-Tits,” said Tim.  “I suggest you begin masturbating to help with the pain.”  He was smiling.

As Emma undressed in front of Tim, and then knelt on the ground, cupping her tits for him to abuse, she thought back to when she had joined Kavenagh & True.  She had been a bright, innocent young woman just like Bianca, eager to do a good job and afraid of fucking up.  

Back then, an older woman had taken her under her wing.  Lindy Kavenagh, wife of firm founder George Kavenagh, had showed Emma the ropes, given her good advice, told her she could succeed if she worked hard and didn’t take shit from men.   It was literally because of Lindy’s help that Emma had become the executive who had championed the diversity policy that had gotten her into all of this.

Bianca needed a mentor just like Emma had had.  She needed someone to build her up, and tell her to be proud of herself.

And then Tim started whipping her.  Hard, without mercy.  Emma tried not to scream, but after the third strike Tim had to stuff her panties into her mouth to keep her quiet.

As Tim brutalised her new plastic tits, and Emma started to cry, she knew she would do anything – *anything* – to avoid feeling pain like this again.  She couldn’t believe that Bianca had been such a disrespectful little skank and gotten her into this position.  The girl would have to be taught.  She would need to learn to answer to the name “Honeybee”, and go without panties, and accept sexual molestation as a compliment.  

Tim had said that Bianca had to do anything Emma said.  Emma could slap her.  Emma could undress her.  Emma could whip the girl’s tiny little inferior tits, and pass on every bit of pain that Tim was giving her.

She just needed to get through two weeks of this.  Then her policy would show its true merit, and she could have revenge on Tim, and get back all of her status.  It was unfair for Bianca that she would have to spend these two weeks learning to be a good little slut like Emma had, but it was a sacrifice in the name of a greater good.   It wasn’t a betrayal of her ideals to turn Bianca into a brainless little sex-muffin – it was really very feminist, a step on a path to a higher victory.

It was with these thoughts in her head that she orgasmed on the fortieth blow to her tits, and the fifty first, and then again on the sixtieth, and when Tim got out his cock afterwards, she began to suckle on it eagerly, a pacifier to soothe the agony in her fuckbags.  She knew that after Tim came, it would be her cunt’s turn to feel the belt, and so she was careful to give Tim an excruciatingly long, pleasurable oral servicing.

After all, she wanted Bianca to return while she was still sucking Tim’s cock.  She wanted Bianca to see her nude, kneeling with a mouthful of her boss’ dick.

Because if there was one thing that was obvious, it was that the girl needed a role model.

===

Support the story and read it in a premium format by buying the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy – available for only $4.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com now! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Emma is given a new female assistant, to join her in degradation.

alltheseroadworks Audiobook, News, Products

New Audiobook: Emma’s Policy, Narrated by Ruan Willow

I am delighted to announce today that you can now listen to classic workplace humiliation novella Emma’s Policy in a new audiobook format – narrated in a female voice by professional voice actress Ruan Willow!

(Click here to get the Emma’s Policy audiobook in store.)

This opportunity comes about entirely by the initiative of Ruan Willow, who did the recording work up-front for free, in return for 70% of sales of the finished product. (And you can find more of Ruan’s projects at her Linktree by clicking here.)

The price for this audiobook is $7.99 USD, representing the time and effort involved in preparing this premium product. The audiobook shop page includes a free sample audio so you can hear what you’re purchasing.

If you want to see more audiobooks of this sort, then please support this one with a purchase!

===

Summary:

Emma is a beautiful, successful executive. But when her signature policy fails to yield results, she finds herself blackmailed into being the test subject for an entirely different kind of policy – one where she is forced to submit to men, and finds her power and dignity being stripped from her, day by day.

First she is forced to call men “sir”. Then she is required to wear more provocative outfits, and receive disciplinary spankings in the office.

She realises that her days of authority are over, and before long she will be little more than an office decoration.

Will Emma escape her fate? Or will she accept her new role in her male-dominated office?

Find out in this full-length novella of office humiliation from the master of female-submissive erotica, All These Roadworks.

===

Emma’s Policy contains themes of non-consent, humiliation, bimbofication, gender degradation and MF and FF sex.

Upon purchase, the audiobook will be delivered to you as digital goods via email.

Please note that the audio files will be contained in a ZIP file and you will need software such as WinZIP to unpack them.

Please not also that this is a 295 MB download.  Ensure you have an appropriate internet connection and data allowance before downloading.

(Get the Emma’s Policy audiobook now!)

The classic tale of office humiliation is now available in a female-voiced audiobook, narrated by Ruan Willow! Get your copy today!

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 8

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

(Click here to buy the full e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

Emma crouched nude in the cavity beneath Tim’s office desk, sucking submissively on Tim’s cock, her tits and pussy aching from their recent abuse.

It was dark down here, with privacy shields on all sides, so she could see nothing except Tim’s groin, and (she hoped) no one could see her.

Which was good, because no sooner had she tasted Tim’s pre-cum than she heard the door to his office open.

“Ah, Gareth, come in,” said Tim.  “Excuse me if I don’t stand – my knee’s playing up today.  Take a seat.”

“Good to see you, Tim,” said the newcomer, and Emma could hear him settle himself into the seat opposite Tim’s desk.

Gareth Bridge was the head of Finance at Kavenagh & True.  It was Gareth who Emma had spent the most time convincing to let her try her diversity hiring policy – the policy which had now landed her in so much trouble, and put her under the control of Tim.

“You wanted to talk to me about Emma, I hear,” said Tim, gripping Emma’s hair beneath the desk and forcing her face down on his cock.

“Yes,” said Gareth.  “I’ve been hearing really disturbing things about her, Tim.  Spending all her time in the toilets.  Having sexual encounters right here in the office.  In fact, I even heard she was spotted running completely nude through the office while she was supposed to be at the whole-of-office meeting this morning.”

“Well, as you’ll recall, I did say last year that it was a bad idea to promote women into any executive roles,” said Tim.

“You did,” sighed Gareth.   “And I should have listened to you.   I thought she had what it takes, but it turns out she’s just – well, a bimbo.”

Emma’s face flushed, as she sucked on Tim’s dick.  There was a time when she had cared about Gareth’s opinion, and had worked hard to earn his respect.

“Women are basically just children, Gareth,” said Tim.  “The only thing that changes when they grow up is their tits get bigger and they can make babies.”  He paused.   “But it’s not all bad. In many ways she’s actually a model employee.”

“How so?” asked Gareth.

“She hasn’t been the subject of one disciplinary complaint over the last few months,” said Tim.  “And for all the sexual attention she appears to be receiving, there hasn’t been the slightest hint of her making a workplace harassment claim.  Do you have any idea how much time and money it costs the company when women get uppity about men enjoying their natural assets?  Plus the morale among the men in her area is through the roof.  For every hour of productivity she’s not producing directly, her men are working twice as hard.”

“Well, that’s very interesting,” said Gareth.  “Very interesting indeed.”  He appeared impressed.  “But we can’t have a senior executive keep acting like this, surely?”

“No, I agree,” said Tim.   “We need a certain standard of behaviour from women in this company.  In fact, I’m preparing a whole new code for women at Kavanagh & True that I think will increase productivity immensely.  They’ll be required to call men ‘sir’, dress a certain way, accept compliments in the spirit they’re offered.  I intend to present it to the board next month.”

“Well, you’ll have my vote!” said Gareth.  “So what do we do about Emma in the meantime?”

“Well, it may just be a phase she’s going through,” said Tim.  “Or it might persist until we can get my new proposal up.  How about we just… lighten her load of responsibility?  Give her something less demanding to do?”

“Do you have anything in mind?” asked Gareth.

Emma tensed.  She didn’t like where this was going.

“Well, I could use a new secretary,” said Tim.  “Let’s fold her entire division into my branch, and she can be a direct report to me.  Her desk can be in my office.  Then I can keep an eye on her.”

Emma tried to raise her head to object.  She couldn’t help herself.  A secretary?   After all she had done to earn her position?  But Tim kept her head pinned against his groin and all she could do was fume impotently around a mouthful of Tim’s cock.

“Excellent idea!” agreed Gareth.  “You’ll let her know, I assume?”

“Oh, she’ll be told,” agreed Tim.  And then he reached down, pulled Emma’s face off his dick, and orgasmed.  Cum spurted from Tim’s cock and coated Emma’s face, dripping down onto her tits.  When he was done cumming, he pushed her back down to lick his cock clean.  And all this happened without Gareth noticing anything.

When Gareth had left the office, Emma exploded out from under Tim’s desk, pushing his chair back and getting to her feet.

“No!” she said.  “Not in a million years!  I am not being your secretary!”

Tim was laughing.  He took out his phone and took a photo of her, then showed her the photo.  She looked ridiculous, standing nude in his office, cum splattered across her face and tits, her fists clenched like a little girl.

“Try again,” he said.

“No, sir,” said Emma.   “I’m not being your secretary, sir.”

“Sugar-tits,” said Tim, “you just let me whip your breasts and cunt and then rape your mouth in public, rather than let me release the information I have about you, your slutty behaviour and your diversity policy.  Are you really going to draw the line here?”

Emma’s face was red.  “It’s too humiliating.  Everyone will know I’m unfit for my job.”

“You *are* unfit for your job, sweet-cheeks,” said Tim.  “Because you’re a woman.  Now, if your diversity policy somehow turns around its stats, you’ll be able to fix all this and get your division back.  But if it doesn’t, you’d better get used to the idea of being a sweet submissive secretary, because that’s the only kind of job we’re going to have for women in this company.   Understand?”

Emma was silent for a long time.  Then she said, “Yes, sir.”

“What else?” asked Tim.

“Thank you for realising I’m too stupid and slutty to do my job, sir,” she said, her face flaming with humiliation.

“Good girl,” said Tim.   “Now go tell your team that you’re going to be my secretary because you’re too stupid and slutty to do your job.  Use those exact words.  You should wear your new uniform, by the way – it’s on the chair in the corner.  Oh, and Sugar-tits?”

“Yes, sir?” she asked.

“Don’t bother cleaning your face or breasts first.”

===

A short while later, Emma found herself in front of the men and women of her team.  She had never been more humiliated in her life, even when she had been gangbanged in the office or had to ask for permission to piss.  

Her new uniform was part of it.  She *looked* like a secretary now.  She wore a short black business skirt with no panties beneath it.  She knew that if she bent forward at the waist, it would reveal her ass and cunt.  She stood uncomfortably in six-inch high heels, and long lacy black stockings held up by a belt at her waist.  She wore a peek-a-boo bra that lifted her tits up into a tight cleavage, but with missing front panel that exposed her nipples.  Over this she wore a tight white button-up shirt – too tight – unbuttoned down to below her breasts.  Most of her titflesh was visible, and in addition the shirt was tight enough that her nipples made visible bumps in it, and thin enough that it was mostly see-through anyway.  The whole outfit was completed by a black velvet choker around her neck, only a small step from being an animal’s collar, from which hung a silver name-tag that read “Sugar-Tits”.

She wasn’t just a secretary – she was a porn secretary.

On top of that, she was kneeling, even though everyone else was standing, as it was one of the few ways she was allowed to present herself when talking with men.  And her hands were cupping her tits, forcing them even further upwards, emphasising her fuckability with her body language as Tim had required her to do.

And, of course, Tim’s sperm was visibly drying on her face and udders.

“Hello everyone,” she said, gazing up at the people she had once had authority over.  “I have some bad news.  It has been decided that I’m…” – she swallowed and blushed – “too stupid and slutty to continue managing this team, so this area is going to be folded under the control of Tim in HR, and going forward I’m going to be Tim’s personal secretary.”

There was a shocked silence, and then some chuckles.

Nolan, one of her direct reports, raised his hand.

“Yes, sir, do you have a question?” said Emma.

“Yes,” he said.  “What do you mean ‘too stupid and slutty’?”

There were more chuckles from the team.

Emma wished she was dead.   “Well, by ‘too stupid’ they mean that I’m a woman, sir,” she said.  “And by ‘too slutty’, they probably mean the way I let men have sex with me at work.”

“And the way that you have cum on you right now?” asked someone else.

“Yes, and the way that I have cum on my face and breasts right now, sir,” said Emma.

“And the way you’re showing us your tits?” said someone else.

“Yes, sir, and the way I’m showing you my tits right now,” agreed Emma.  She wanted to cry.

Nolan said, “Didn’t you come to all of us here in the team, just the other week, and ask us to spank your cunt if you were being a slut?”

Tim had made her do it.   “Yes, sir,” she admitted.  “I did.”

The members of the team looked at each other.  “I think we should have a party,’ said Nolan.  “An ‘Emma Gets What She Deserves’ party.  Just a little team gathering for lunch.  Brett, how about you get some champagne?  And Mandy, find us something to eat.”  He looked down.  “And Emma, I think you should get up on the bench, lie on your back, and spread your legs for your punishment.”

She did start to cry then.   “Yes, sir,” she said.  “Thank you, sir.”

“Now,” said Nolan, moving to stand in front of her, his groin inches from her face, “do you think that you can have your cunt spanked and suck a cock at the same time, without accidentally using your teeth?”

She kissed his crotch, as she knew he wanted, and said, “Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better,” said Nolan.

===

As it turned out, not only was she able to suck cock and have her cunt beaten with a ruler at the same time, but she was actually able to cum from the pain and humiliation.

And when she realised she was actually *proud* of that achievement, the shame made her cum a second time.

===

You can buy this complete book right now for only $4.99 USD from All These Roadworks!  Emma’s Policy contains the complete saga of an executive’s slide into workplace submission – and your purchase will support me to keep the lights on and keep creating new stories! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Emma services Tim's cock as Tim plans a humiliating demotion for her.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 7

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

(Click here to buy the full e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

Emma was completely nude at work.  She wasn’t wearing anything except her high heels, and she was walking through the corridors of Kavenagh & True, the firm at which she was still theoretically a senior executive – but where more and more she was coming to realise she was nothing but a sextoy.

She wasn’t so much walking as scuttling – moving frantically from cubicle divider to cubicle divider, trying to keep herself out of sight.  One arm was clutching her tits, trying to conceal her nipples, and the other was clenched between her legs.  Theoretically she was trying to cover her pussy, but her traitorous fingers, now in the habit of regularly pleasuring her cunt, kept worming their way between her labia to fingerfuck her rapehole, which still contained traces of cum from the workman who had raped her in her house that morning.

She was humiliated to be nude, of course, and scared to death of being seen – but somehow that wasn’t quite enough to stop her masturbating as she moved.

She was lucky, as it turned out.  Almost everyone at Kavenagh & True was at a whole-of-office meeting discussing priorities for the quarter ahead.  Having arrived late, Emma had missed it, and as a result there was almost no one at their desks to see her.  She would possibly get in some trouble for missing that meeting – but her contributions to meetings recently had been saying “Yes, sir”, focusing the attention of men on the idea of raping her, and generally trying to pretend that she didn’t exist and that she wasn’t acting like a brainless sex-cow.

Those few people with permission to skip the meeting DID see her.  The worst thing was how unsurprised they were to see Emma running nude through the workplace.  Word had gotten around about Emma.  Everyone knew she had been gang-raped by the HR department, and orgasmed from it.  Everyone knew that she liked being called “sugar-tits” and “cunt”.  Everyone knew that she gave blowjobs to the guys in IT.  Everyone knew that she had asked all the men in the firm to whip her tits or spank her if she was a bad girl.

People just thought of her now as the kind of woman who *would* walk around the office naked while masturbating.

She heard Brendan from the Future Projects team laugh at her as she scurried past.  She heard Dionne from Marketing yell out, “You’re a slut, Emma!”   She ignored them and made a beeline for her office.

Inside, she disconnected the cable from her computer monitor.  Tim had asked her to bring it to him so he could whip her tits with it, and these days she didn’t dare disobey anything Tim told her to do.  She grabbed it, and hurried back to Tim’s office again.  She didn’t even realise she was still masturbating.

When Gary from HR called out, “Look at those udders bounce!” as she ran past, and then mooed at her like a cow, she orgasmed.  It took her completely by surprise, and she tripped and fell onto all fours.  There was more laughter, and she thought she heard the sound of a camera from behind her, taking a photo of her ass and cunt.

It took her nearly a minute to get up.  Her body shook from the orgasm.  Her pussy spasmed.  She could think of nothing but her shame and humiliation and degradation – and it just kept making her pussy clench more.  A second orgasm hit her, just from thinking about what a whore she was, and she moaned in abject shame.

Eventually, though, she got up, her face flaming red, and hurried back to Tim.

“Very good, sugar-tits,” said Tim, taking the cable off her.  “Now kneel.   Cup your tits and offer them up to me.   Tuck your thumbs underneath so they’re not in the way.”

Emma did as she was told, terrified of what was about to happen, but powerless to resist.

Tim took out a phone and pointed it at her.  In his other hand, he held up a card.  “Read this, and smile as you do it,” he said.

Emma focused on the card.   “Hi, I’m Emma!” she said brightly – still cupping her naked tits.  “I find that women in the workplace are stupid and lazy.  Smart companies institute proper discipline for women.  I’d like to demonstrate what I think should be done to disobedient women in the workplace!”

“Good girl,” said Tim – and whipped her across the tits with the monitor cable.

Emma screamed, and almost let go of her tits.  The cable lashed across her right breast and the metal end impacted on the titflesh of her left breast.

“One,” said Tim, and hit her again.  “Two.”

By the end of ten strikes, Emma was crying.  Tears were running down her face.  Her tits were on fire with pain.  There were long red welts forming where the cable had struck her.

“You now have two minutes to masturbate,” he told her.

She looked up at him in confusion.

“Endorphins will dull the pain,” he explained.

He was right.  Frantically, Emma began to rub her pussy.  She had almost reached orgasm when Tim said, “Time’s up.”   He grabbed her hair, pushed her down until she was on all fours, and then began to whip the cable across her buttocks.

The pain wasn’t as bad as on her tits.  In fact… it was sort of pleasurable.  A switch flipped in her head, and suddenly the punishment felt good – sexual.  She moaned.

Twenty strikes with the cable to her buttocks, and then Tim pushed her, forcing her to roll over and lie on her back.

“Another two minutes to masturbate,” he said.

Emma eagerly began fingerfucking herself, not caring what she looked like, not caring that she was degrading herself in front of a man she hated.  She was so close… so close…

“Time’s up,” said Tim.   He kicked her hands away, then knelt across her chest, one leg on either side of her, facing her cunt.  He forced her legs apart, and then raised a new implement – not the cable, but a thin wooden ruler.

Emma squealed, and tried to close her legs.  Tim wouldn’t let her.

“One,” he counted, and brought the ruler down on her pussy.

Emma opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.  She had never felt such pain in her life.  She had had her cunt spanked by Tim before – but in the past he had used his hand.  The ruler was worse – so much worse that Emma couldn’t believe it.

And then she orgasmed.

“Two,” said Tim, and hit her again.

Emma orgasmed again.

On every one of the ten strikes to her pussy, Emma orgasmed.  And when it was done, she was incoherent.  Tears streamed down her face.  Her tits, cunt and ass were bruised and she couldn’t think of anything but the pain.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, reflexively.  

Tim held up another card, and his camera.  Emma tried to focus on it.

“I deserve everything that just happened to me,” said Emma, “because I’m a dumb bimbo who doesn’t produce as much value as a man.  I think with my tits and my cunt, and punishing them is the best way to correct my behaviour.   I urge the board of Kavenagh & True to apply this discipline program to every woman who works here, because after all, the only way that a slut will learn is if you hurt her.”  Emma tried to smile as she finished reading the card.

“Good girl,” said Tim, and turned off the phone.  Then he grabbed her by the hair, dragged her across the floor and pushed her under his desk.   He sat down in his executive chair, rolled the chair up to the desk, and unbuttoned his fly, extracting his stiff cock.

“Suck,” he commanded, and Emma, bruised, confused, and humiliated, instinctively obeyed.  She took a kneeling position, hidden under the desk, and began to obediently suckle on Tim’s penis.

“Good cunt,” said Tim.   “Now stay put.  I have a very important meeting.  In fact, it’s with the head of Finance… and it’s about you, and your slutty recent behaviour…”

===

Enjoying this story?  You can buy the complete e-book of Emma’s Policy right now for only $4.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store!  Plus your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of new, free erotica! (Click here to view in store.)

===

Emma is completely nude at work.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Policy, Part 4

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three

(Click here to buy the full e-book of Emma’s Policy.)

===

It was the start of the eighth week since Tim had discovered just how much money Emma’s feminist diversity policy was costing the firm of Kavenagh & True.  Each week she had agreed to a degrading rule from Tim, to buy his silence on the failure of her policy, hoping that the numbers would turn around.

The numbers had not turned around.  Tim had summoned her to his office.  He had asked her to bring him a report – a summary of the progress of *his* policy, which appeared to be a policy of turning Emma into the company slut.

She looked down at the report she had prepared as she walked carefully towards Tim’s office in her eight-inch stripper heels.

===

REPORT ON DUMB SLUT WORTH UPGRADE by Emma Cooper

To increase my value to the company, I am required to obey the following rules

  • Address all men as “sir”.
  • Respond to demeaning names like “sugar-tits” as if they are my name.
  • Dress for work in sexy underwear, short skirts, high heels, and cleavage-emphasising tops.
  • Don’t resist or complain when men sexually harass me – it’s a compliment!
  • Only sit in one of two ways – kneeling in front of the man I am talking to, or in a chair with my skirt pulled to my waist and my legs spread.
  • Ask permission from a male to (a) use the toilets; (b) take a break; (c) go home; or (d) put on, remove or rearrange my clothing while in the office.  If I am refused permission, I must wait at least 10 minutes before asking another man.
  • Call attention to my fuckability.  My body language must emphasise my slut-tunnel and my rape-balloons.  My spoken conversation must put the thought of raping me into the mind of any man I speak to.

In addition, the company has graciously made renovations to my office.  The walls are glass, allowing men to observe me at work.  There is a dildo on my chair, which I must insert into my pussy in order to use the seat.  There are pornographic photos on my desk, and my computer desktop background is a series of pictures of myself, showing me masturbating, with educational phrases overlaid.

Further, my male subordinates are helping me learn to write my work communications so they use language more appropriate to my gender, such as referring to my udders as “rape-balloons” instead of breasts, and referring to my gender as “dumb sluts”.

So far the program is very successful and represents a stroke of genius by its originator, Tim.  I fully endorse the indefinite extension of the program and feel I would benefit from having the restrictions on my behaviour expanded.

===

Emma absolutely did NOT endorse any continuation of these rules, but Tim had asked for the last paragraph specifically.  It was going to go in his files, which would all be presented to the board if the stats on Emma’s diversity program didn’t turn around by the end of the quarter.  She only had five weeks left before that deadline.

She entered Tim’s office, and closed the door behind her, grateful that Tim, at least, had some privacy in his workspace.  She crossed the floor to Tim’s desk, placed her report in front of him, then knelt at his feet, cupping her breasts in her hands, and waited for him to acknowledge her.

He pretended to ignore her for a few moments, and then swivelled his chair with a sigh to face her.

“Good morning, cunt,” he said.

She flushed.  She hated that, even after several weeks, the casually degrading names everyone now used for her still made her blush.  She knew that men enjoyed seeing her embarrassment, and wished she could avoid giving them the satisfaction – but she couldn’t.  Each insult was like a little kick to her soul – and, even more embarrassingly, ever insult produced an eager little throb in her cunt.

“Good morning, sir,” she said.  “Do I look sufficiently fuckable today?”  She had to put the thought of raping her into his mind at some point in their conversation, and she preferred to get it out of the way early – although she was sure he didn’t need any help from her to turn his mind to sexually degrading her.

“You’re adequate,” he said.   “Your fuckbags could stand to be bigger.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.   “I’m sorry they’re not larger.”

“I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that your ridiculous pro-female policies still show no sign of being profitable,” said Tim.

It wasn’t really any surprise, but it was bad news regardless.  She bit her lip anxiously.  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

“I assume you’re still not ready for me to tell the board what a failure you are?” he asked her.

She wasn’t.  She’d come this far.  If it was going to show results, the last month of the quarter was when it would happen.  She still had hope.  “No, sir,” she said.

“Do you want to tell me about the other thing that happened this week?” he asked.

She did not.  She pursed her lips and remained silent.

“I’m told that you seduced six men in the Human Resources section into having sex with you right there in the public workspace,” said Tim.  “I’m told you encouraged them to ejaculate in your pussy, anus and mouth.  I’m told that you orgasmed.  And all this after spending an entire day begging men for permission to masturbate in the toilets.”

The shame was intense.   Emma looked downward, unable to make eye contact, her face flaming, wishing she was elsewhere, wishing she was dead.

It wasn’t entirely true, of course.  She hadn’t seduced them.  They had raped her.  The whole HR area had gang-raped her.  Only – had they?  She had been so wet *before* they started.  And she hadn’t been wearing panties.  She’d left them in the toilet, because she’d taken them off to masturbate and been so horny she’d forgotten to put them back on.  And she *had* orgasmed.

Whenever she thought about it, it threatened to blot out all other thoughts.  She had once been a feared, respected junior executive in this firm.   She had been far above any of the men who had just fucked her.  The idea that she had been raped by multiple cocks, right in the middle of the open-plan office, by co-workers, and that she had not only let it happen but *orgasmed*, was so overwhelmingly shameful that it caused a discontinuity in her thoughts.  Surely the woman that this had happened to was not the same woman who had been on top of the world only a couple of months ago?  Either the rape wasn’t real, or the memory of being a professional woman wasn’t, surely.


 She knew that they were both true – but it wasn’t a comforting thought.  It wasn’t one she liked.  

“What do you think would normally happen to a woman who had public sex with co-workers during work hours?” asked Tim.

Emma felt like she might cry.  “She’d be fired, sir,” she said.  “And she wouldn’t get a good reference.”

“Well, not good in the areas she wanted, anyway,” laughed Tim.  “But don’t worry, Emma, you’re not going to be fired.”

She felt a surge of relief.   “Thank you, sir,” she said, and the gratitude was genuine.

“But you are going to need to be disciplined, and it will go on your formal file,” said Tim.  “I want a formal description of what happened in my inbox by the end of the day.  It should indicate the truthful position that it was all your fault, and absolve your co-workers of any responsibility.  Make sure to include clear pictures of all the parts of your body that they used.”

Emma blanched.  But she knew she was lucky.  If Tim hadn’t wanted to play his cruel game with her, she really would have been fired for what had happened.  In a perverse way, she was fortunate to be the subject of his abuse right now, and she knew that now was not the time to object or argue.

“As for your rule for this week,” said Tim, “it’s clear that you need a more direct kind of discipline to keep your wanton whorishness in line.  From now on, if a man believes that you have been a slut, he may, of his own initiative, give you ten spanks with a ruler or his hand to your exposed cunt.  If he thinks you have been insufficiently respectful or pleasing to a man, he may give you either an immediate slap across the face, or ten blows with a belt or his hand to your exposed breasts.  And if your work performance has been poor, or you’ve just been generally difficult, stupid, or disobedient, he may give you twenty spanks to your buttocks with any implement of his choice.”

Her eyes were wide with horror.  The idea of exposing her breasts or pussy to a man on command was bad enough – letting him *hit* her there was worse!

“Oh, don’t look like that, sugar-tits,” said Tim.  “You’ll only be disciplined if you’re bad.  All you have to do is please men without being a slut, and perform your job well, and no one will have cause to punish you.”

She whimpered.  She wanted to beg for mercy, but feared that would make it worse.

“Oh,” said Tim, “and you’re probably wondering how men will *know* to do this to you.  That’s a good question for such a dumb cunt.  I thought about how much fun you’d have if I just sent out a company-wide email…”

She pictured it, and quivered with shame.

“… but then I came up with a better idea,” he said.  “You’re going to go to every man in the company, one at a time, and beg them to do this to you.   Not tell them they can.  Not ask.  Beg.  Like your career depends on getting them to agree to punish you.”  Tim paused.   “Because it kind of does, sugar-tits.”

She didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to think about doing that.  “May I go, sir?” she asked.

He sighed – and slapped her across the face.  She gasped.

“No,” he said.  “You may not go.  And the slap is for thinking that it’s your place to ask, instead of my place to dismiss you.  You haven’t thanked me for doing this to you yet.”

She was not so far degraded that she couldn’t feel anger at this idea, but she suppressed it, gritting her teeth.  “Thank you, sir,” she said, quietly.

He shook his head.  “No, that’s not right,” he said.

“Thank you for making me beg my male co-workers to spank my fuckhole, ass and rape-balloons,” she said.

Tim laughed.  “That’s better,” he said – and then unzipped his pants, and took out his thick, erect cock.  “But I want you to *thank* me.”

She stared at his cock, then looked up at him, hoping for a reprieve that she knew wasn’t coming.  Tim only waited.  And so, resigned, she leaned forward and began to suck on Tim’s cock.

“There’s a good little cocksleeve,” cooed Tim, stroking her hair as she sucked on him.  She did her best to please him.  When he neared orgasm, he reached out and grabbed her hair, and began using it as handles to violently face-fuck her, pumping into her throat as she coughed and gagged and tried to pull away, until eventually he ejaculated hot sperm into her mouth.

She felt a little pride that she managed to swallow it all.  Not so much as a drop drooled from her mouth onto her dress or breasts.

Tim nodded as he pulled out of her, then said, “Take off your panties, lie on my desk, pull up your skirt and spread your legs.”

“What?” asked Emma, surprised.  She had just pleased him, surely.  Wasn’t her ordeal temporarily over?

“You just sucked my cock like a slut,” said Tim.  “You need your slut punishment, remember?”

“Please, no!” she begged – and gasped when he slapped her again.

“I can keep slapping you,” said Tim, “or I can tell the board how much money you’ve cost this company, or I can have you fired, or you can get up on the desk and do as you’re told.  Which is it going to be, fuckpig?”

She blinked back tears, and took a deep breath.  Then – “The desk, sir.  I’m sorry, sir.”  She stood, pulled down her panties, and climbed up on the desk as she had been told.

The position confirmed her humiliation, because with her cunt exposed to Tim’s gaze it was clear that her pussy was very, very wet – as it always was when she was degraded.  Tim didn’t comment on it, and neither did Emma.  

“Ask for it,” said Tim.

“Please spank my rapehole ten times because I acted like a slut, sir,” said Emma.

Tim complied.  He showed some mercy – he used his hand.  Emma had been eyeing the wooden ruler lying on one side of Tim’s desk with apprehension, but he never reached for it.  It *hurt*.  Emma wasn’t sure how much was pain, and how much was shock.  She had never been deliberately hit in her naked cunt before, and the fact she was lying here spreading her legs for it, not trying to defend herself, did something strange to her mind.  

Each slap was a little like being fucked.  Each slap was a little like when her father had spanked her naked bottom as a girl.  Each slap was a little like masturbating.  Each slap was a little like being called a cunt and a bitch and a fuckpig.

She got wetter on the first slap, wetter still on the second.  By the third slap, she was so soaked that each impact made a wet squelching sound.  She started to moan on the sixth slap, because she knew what was about to happen, but Tim showed no mercy, and so on the eight slap she was powerless to stop herself – she orgasmed.  

And then orgasmed again on the tenth slap.

When she climbed down from the desk she was crying, not from pain – for the pain hadn’t been *that* bad – but from the shame of knowing what a slut she was.

Tim kept her panties.   She didn’t even notice.

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Emma feels herself sink deeper into Tim's workplace control.