alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 12

Emma’s Division is the sequel to my novella-length story Emma’s Policy – An Executive’s Slide Into Workplace Submission, which you can buy for only $3.99 USD from my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of the above?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny.

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

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

No. She knew what Tim wanted to hear.

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

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

“Yes, sir,” said Bunny unhappily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t matter. Tim needed an answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mistress,” said Bunny.

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

And, honestly, that felt good too.

===

If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love my e-book A Woman’s Work – Stories of Workplace Degradation, available from my creator site for only $3.99 USD. (Click here to view in store.)

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Bunny is offered a new position working even more closely with Emma - but the job interview is a humiliating ordeal. - (Read it here.)

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 8

Emma’s Division is the sequel to my novella-length story Emma’s Policy – An Executive’s Slide Into Workplace Submission, which you can buy for only $3.99 USD from my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)

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

===

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 Emma. “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 pay rise, 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.

===

If you’re enjoying this story, you can get your hands on Emma’s original adventure in Emma’s Policy – An Executive’s Slide Into Workplace Submission, available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site. (Click here to view in store.)

===

Bunny updates the humiliating details of the company's "female resources" database. - (Read it here.)

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 2

Emma’s Division is a sequel to the novella-length e-book “Emma’s Policy”, but also works as a standalone read. You can buy “Emma’s Policy” as an e-book from the All These Roadworks e-shop for only $3.99 USD – and support the creation of more great stories! (Click here to view.)

Previous parts:
One

=== 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny blushed and looked away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny tried the door again.  Still locked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny stared at Emma in horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t!” declared Bunny.

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

Bunny did want to.

Only… she couldn’t, could she?

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

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

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

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

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

“My spirit animal?” asked Bunny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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New story! Bunny continues her first day in "Emma's Division" - and meets Emma herself. - (Read it here.)

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Emma’s Division, Part 1

This story acts a sequel to the novella-length e-book “Emma’s Policy”, but also works as a standalone read. You can buy “Emma’s Policy” as an e-book from the All These Roadworks e-shop for only $3.99 USD – and support the creation of more great stories! (Click here to view.)

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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”. 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 your 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.

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New story! In this sequel to Emma's Policy, new hire Bunny finds what has become of Kavenagh & True now that Emma is director of "female resources". - (Read it here.)