“Congratulations,” Dennis tells me, although his eyes are cold and his mouth is set in a grim smile. “You’re now my new manager.”
I blush and tilt my head, understanding that it’s probably really weird for him to have a twenty-two year old girl promoted to lead him (a forty-something year old man) and the fiscal team (all men at least ten years older than I am, other than the intern—but Victor doesn’t really count), especially when I was an underling for the past few months while I finished up my MBA degree.
“I’m very humbled and pleased that I was the most fitting candidate,” I say, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll do my best to make this transition as smooth as possible.”
Mr. Roscoe, their former manager, retired about a month before I started on at the Department of Human Services, and I know he was both beloved and respected by the team, whereas I’m a new, unwanted and youthful face. (And a woman, at that.)
Dennis scoffs. “If I had a degree I’d be in your shoes, but oh-no, experience doesn’t count for jack shit.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing, trying not to squirm under his harsh, dark gaze. He looks me up and down, his eyes sticking on my large chest and curvy hips. “Although I think we all know how you landed the position,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Excuse me?” I say, forcing my tone to be polite.
“I’m sure you’ll do very well, Miss Violet,” he answers with a smarmy smile.
“Miss Pearl,” I correct him; my first name is Violet, and I’ll be damned if he thinks he’s going to address me rudely by my first name, especially when he’s accentuating the ‘Miss’.
“Right. I always confuse your flowery names.” He tilts his head in mock apology and then stalks off to chatter about me with the rest of the team.
I close myself into my new office, trying to appreciate the airy brightness and large, paneled windows that line the back wall. It’s been nerve wracking to come up from a nobody (that secretly modeled at a corrupt ‘art studio’) to a respectable young woman with a degree—and I knew that there might be some backlash applying in a male dominated field for the government entity I currently work at, but I still don’t like facing it. Honestly, I should have applied elsewhere, where the people didn’t know me as an underling, but I couldn’t resist taking over here, not only because all of my co-workers lack the necessary degree to move upwards, but also because the location is only minutes away from my house (bought and paid for with my earnings ‘modeling’) and the building is in such a beautiful area. I can take long, leisurely walks around the building, exploring the gardens to the South or the small forest and rivers to the North side. It also pays incredibly well, and has amazing benefits.
It's worth pissing a few people off to get a gig like this, I console myself as I sit down at my luxuriously large, cherry-wood desk, and start to look at the expense reports on my high-end computer.
Maybe I can even fire Dennis if he gets on my nerves, too much. I know it’s hard to do with the union that protects State workers, but I could make his life miserable with a performance improvement plan (also known as a ‘PIP’). The shame that comes from being forced into a PIP makes me smile meanly as I envision Dennis squirming and sweating as I tell him the bad news.
Don’t get on his bad side unless he really deserves it, I tell myself—even though I already know I’m on his shit list, and even though I really think he deserves it. Dennis has always treated me like crap, and I definitely can’t afford it now, unless I want to risk my reputation and respect as a manager. The other men on the team have always grudgingly accepted me, but now that I’ve risen above them, I think that Dennis’ catty words might spur them into a mutiny.
“Maybe it’d be better just to head this whole thing off with HR,” I murmur to myself, glancing at the clock and deciding that 4:45 PM is the perfect time to broach the subject; it’s just when everyone’s preparing to go home.
My meeting with HR goes surprisingly well. Not only do the women who work there listen to me, but they insist that they’ll sit down with Dennis and approach the performance improvement plan with him, as well as make him take several harassment and discrimination classes, since I’ve felt he’s acted sexist towards me.
I go home in a happy daze, thinking that everything will work out splendidly. Soon Dennis will realize he’s messed with the wrong lady, and soon everyone else will want to toe the line to get along with me (and really, I’m not so hard to get along with, so I’m not asking much).
I roll up to the office Monday morning in fuck-you pink lipstick and a fuck-me pink dress. My heels are several inches high, and I enjoy the way they clack as I walk, sounding authoritative and sure, as well as the way they show off my slender, toned legs. Femininity shouldn’t be something that’s discouraged, I think to myself, striding into my office while noticing the appreciative glances from Ryan and Tom, the lead accountant and payroll analyst.
Dennis is nowhere to be seen, although I don’t think anything of it until much later, when he storms into my office red faced and out of breath.
“You reported me!” he yells.
“Mister Smith! I’ll ask that you lower your voice!”
“A PIP, Violet, really?” he snarls, slamming his hands down on my desk. “What did I do to deserve a PIP? My work is both thorough and precise—and I’ve never missed a deadline!”
“It’s your attitude,” I hiss at him.
He’s technically my second in command, the lead budget analyst who’s supposed to both prepare and proofread my final work, but I can already tell that this is going to be a big problem.
“You don’t deserve this position! You’re nothing more than a pretty face and a ladder-climbing whore!”
I gape at him in shock, wondering if anyone outside of my office can hear his tirade; I certainly can’t tolerate such disrespect, but I also don’t want anyone to know of it either (because it brings an uncomfortable and heavy shame down upon me)—even if it would get him fired immediately. The other guys would talk about it . . . and I definitely don’t want that.
“That’s enough—” I start, but Dennis growls so loudly that my voice freezes in my throat, and then he says something that chills me to the bone, “I know all about you, Violet Pearl. I know that you posed for Natural Submission Studio—I know that you’re a complete whore—and I know your trigger words, if you seem so hellbent on crossing me.”
My mouth goes desert dry, making me cough and splutter.
“No, you don’t,” I rasp out.
Because there’s no way, after all this time together, that he would have waited to use my past against me. Right? There’s no way in hell—but no, he brought up where I worked by name, and the sinking feeling dawns on me slowly as I gape up at him in terror.
“You know that I know,” he continues, his face morphing into something predatory.
A flood of memories assault me: me posing nude with my huge tits and bare pussy on full display, me all chained up and being whipped, me orgasming uncontrollably while Jean Paul made me blow him….
(All recorded, all on the darkweb for perverts to find.)
“Yes, fine,” I agree, my voice shaking. “What is it that you want?”
My heartbeat pulses in my throat; I don’t want to give into any of his potential demands, but I also don’t want him telling the entire office about what I’ve done in my past. Obviously, if he’s kept it to himself for this long, he’s been waiting to use it against me. Waiting to blackmail me.
“Oh, there’s a few things that I have in mind,” he whispers, his eyes deadly sharp and his lip quirking into a terrifying smirk. “First, I think you should reconsider my PIP—although you’ll need to do it slowly so that it doesn’t look suspicious. Perhaps tell them that my behavior has noticeably improved after a couple of weeks.”
“O-okay,” I stammer, heat rising to my face; I can’t believe he’s already weaseling out from the one punishment I could give him! The bastard. But worse, I know he’ll have more awful demands than these by the way he’s staring at me.
“Second, I think you should show me your tits.”
“N-no….” I whisper, my face burning.
He grins. "And third, I think you should stop calling yourself Miss Pearl. We’ve always called you Violet, and it’s demeaning to us that we now have to address you as though you’re some sort of authority, when really you’re just a little tramp. A little tramp that better show me her tits right now, or I’ll show everyone around the office videos of you completely naked, with a buttplug up your ass while you lick some other dumb bitch’s cunt…."
My pupils blow wide, shock and humiliation going through me like a lightning bolt. Has he really seen that? I’m definitely not a lesbian, but I know of the video, even if I don’t have any memory of actually doing it. I’ve seen it. Seen me all dressed up like a pussycat, little black ears attached to my dark hair and a black tail hanging out of my ass. The other girl had been dressed up as a cat, too—and I don’t know exactly what my old boss, Jean Paul, had fed me to get me to do it, but there I was on camera, slurping away at some brunette’s bare pussy, tonguing her clit like my life depended on it. Like I liked it.
“Do it Violet, or I'll send everyone you know a copy of the video," he whispers, leaning forward to place his hands on my desk. “Our boss. Your social media contacts—”
“Okay, okay,” I stammer, waving my hands out to stop him; I definitely can’t afford for anyone else to see that video—my parents would be absolutely crushed, and my job might be at risk (despite the union)—I know for damn sure my reputation would be trashed, at least. “Just shut up and I’ll show you.”
My shaky hands rise up to lower the top of my red dress, slowly exposing my black, lacy bra to the leering man before me.
“Bra down too,” he instructs, cooly and casually, as though we are discussing the weather.
“Fine,” I bite out, quickly dragging it down so that my large tits pop out over the front; my face burns in complete embarrassment; I can’t even look at him, staring past his shoulder at the door, and praying that no one walks by to see me exposing myself in such a lewd fashion.
“Even better in person,” he says silkily. “Such ripe, pink nipples, like little berries ready to suck—”
“I don’t want to hear what you think!”
“Temper, temper,” he teases, reaching out to squeeze one, and glaring at me as I flinch away.
I yank my bra and dress back up, snarling, “I’ve done what you’ve asked, Mister Smith. I’ll rescind the PIP and the team can call me Violet if that would make this transition easier. Anything else?”
“I think that’s all for now,” he says woodenly, his eyes cold. “But see to it that you address me with a warm smile from now on.”
“I’ll try,” I say, swallowing hard before I force a smile onto my lips.
He gives me a smug look, knowing that he’s won, but thankfully says nothing as he casually turns around and leaves. I stare at the invisible wake of him, at my closed office door, feeling sick to the bone because I know it’s not over between us. Dennis Smith has the upper hand here, and now I’m under his thumb, just as pathetic and cringing as he wants me to be.
I try to ignore the way that Dennis stares at me every day, but I can't help but notice the way that his gaze lingers on my breasts—and as the next week goes by, I can’t help but notice the way the rest of my team is always staring at my breasts, too. They all call me Violet, like they’ve held a secret meeting of some sort, and I never correct them even though it makes me want to scream.
They're also talking about me behind my back, whispering in their cubicles whenever I walk by, and it takes me a while to finally speak up, but I regret when I finally do.
“Guys, I think we should have a team meeting to discuss any issues that are arising,” I tell the clump of them one morning.
“Certainly got something rising up,” I hear Ryan mutter under his breath, and then the rest of them laugh, making my face flush a violent shade of pink.
“Let’s all take a walking break together,” Dennis chimes in before I can stammer out something weak and pathetic, as though he’s trying to save me from some office embarrassment. “It’ll be nice to get outside and enjoy the sunshine.”
I sigh heavily, unsure of why he wants us to go out together, like we’re all friends, but I don’t argue because I know that arguing will only make my situation worse. So I follow his lead, and soon enough, we’re all making our way out into the parking lot, my heels clicking across the cement, as everyone makes small talk about the good weather we’re having, and wander casually towards the trails leading off into the forested area, on the northside.
“I don’t mean to complain,” I start softly as the small talk dies down, “because all of your work has been exemplary, but I just want to be sure that you’re happy with my leadership.”
Dennis has the nerve to scoff, but the other men smile at each other and shrug, before nodding at me.
“Just sucks that you play favorites, is all,” Ryan murmurs.
My breath stutters a moment, coming out weird as I ask, “What do you mean by that?”
“Dennis said you showed him your tits for encouragement,” Tom pipes up.
I glare at Dennis, wanting to immediately turn back towards the office, but we’re already halfway down a trail, and it would look stupid if I tried to rush away in my heels.
“Mister Smith!” I say loudly, trying to make my angry voice sound like a denial.
“Come off it, Violet,” he answers. “We all know you’re a cockslut. They’ve all seen the video. Multiple videos, at that….”
Angry tears spring to my eyes, my entire body seizing up so that I can’t walk anymore. “W-what?”
“That’s right, and we all want a piece of you—isn’t that right, gentleman?”
My head whips around as they all hum in agreement, taking in their hard, leering faces, and the way they suddenly seem to encircle me. “N-no!”
“Don’t argue, miss priss,” Dennis says, almost lazily. “Always be a good girl….”
I’m instantly pulled under a warm, golden wave of nothingness. I sink deep into an ocean of utter darkness. I don’t see the men laughing and ribbing each other, or truly hear the excited comments that they make (“God, she’s a hot little piece—can’t wait to bust in her….” and “Those red lips are going to look real good around my cock.”)
Rough hands tug at my dress, pulling it down and off, so that it hobbles around my high-heeled feet. “Nice when the little bitch can’t argue, isn’t it?” Dennis says, and then he yanks my bra off, whispering to me, “You’ll let me touch your big tits all I want now, huh?”
I gurgle something, vaguely recognizing the question; I feel as though I’m floating—especially when a hot, wet mouth envelops my left nipple, sucking deeply. There’re no room for thoughts, no room for anything but the pleasurable sensations that are assaulting me. Large hands stroke my face, pulling at my neatly done-up hair to pull it down over my shoulders, caressing my slim waist, gripping my hips, and tearing down my red panties. Fingers toy with my clit, the folds of my smooth, bare pussy, someone saying huskily, “Look how wet she is already” and another answering him, “What a perfect little slut….”
Rough hands push me to the ground, and then someone knees my legs apart before someone else sinks down to grasp my shoulder, groping my tits in turn.
“You gonna fuck her raw, Dennis?” Tom asks, just as a thick cock presses against my wet folds, parting them, pushing hard inside me as a roughened voice answers, “Uh-huh.”
A choked cry escapes me as Dennis starts to fuck me so hard he’s slamming me into the ground, but I don’t really feel or think anything, my mind warm mush, my pussy squeezing in hot, eager clenches around the rapid intrusion. Juices run down my ass as I’m fucked violently, Dennis rasping out curses and slurs, “You fucking bitch—think you’re better than me? Nothing but a stupid cocksleeve. A filthy, cumdump, whore….”
He groans low and deep, his thrusts momentarily stilling before going jerky. Hot cum floods my pussy, bathing my cervix in wet, unprotected spurts.
“Oh fuck,” he pants, pulling out to drag his still dribbling cockhead against my swollen clit; he gets up and steps aside, only to be replaced by another man who slams into me without a moment's hesitation.
"Damn, she’s soaking wet,” Tom murmurs, and then he grasps my chin and says, “Open up. Suck my cock while Ryan shoots another load in you.”
I open my mouth wide, a warm mantra going through my head: Good girls love to have their mouths fucked. Good girls love to deepthroat. Good girls love to swallow cum.
Tom slowly eases his veiny cock into my throat, groaning as I eagerly suck and tongue at him, one of his hands gripping my long hair, the other gripping my breast hard enough to leave marks. Ryan leans over to moan in my ear, his voice rough as he says, "That's it baby, take our cocks like the slut you really are….”
The words are indistinct, but the meaning is clear: I'm fulfilling my true purpose, my body is made to be violated and used by these men, all I’m good for is their pleasure.
“Cum for me, slut,” Ryan hisses, and I moan around Tom’s cock as ecstasy rips through me like a bullet, my pussy spasming and making Ryan groan, his hips rolling against me, and the warm gush of his cum flooding my already soaked insides.
My orgasm flutters into golden aftershocks, my mouth still sucking obediently, Ryan pulling away as I feel the twitch of Tom’s cock inside my tight throat. “Christ,” he rasps, pulling my face into his gut, so that he can cum hard and deep, draining his balls straight into my waiting belly.
I feel a pair of rough hands push my face away after I’ve greedily swallowed it all down, and then I'm being tugged up onto my knees, to kneel on my ripped, ruined dress. Another man kneels down behind me, pressing his cock against my asshole.
“Even the intern wants to punish your ass,” Dennis says with a laugh. “Fuck her until she splits, Victor! I don’t want her to be able to sit for a week!”
I’m shoved face first into the dirt path as a heavy body pins me down, moaning sluttily as my ass is stretched open, then pummeled by eager thrusts.
“Think she likes it,” Victor grunts. “She’s squeezing the shit outta my cock….”
Dennis presses the toe of his dirty boot against my cheek, grinding it slightly into my panting mouth. “Cum for the kid then, fucking whore.”
Dizzy bliss rolls over me in waves, and my cries ring out through the trees, drowning out Victor’s low groans, drowning out Dennis’ soft command, “From now on you won’t be able to cum unless it’s by getting filled by one of us….”, drowning out the whoops and hollers of the other men watching my ass get filled by salty sperm; Victor slumps heavily on top of me, panting and sweaty.
I’m vaguely aware of the others standing around, probably trying to figure out which hole they want to fuck next, and then I pass out completely (Dennis whispering, “Time to sleep, bitch….”).
I wake up in the middle of the night, shivering from the cold, my head aching, my ears vaguely registering the echo-sound of two quick finger-snaps. Blackness greets my eyes; I can’t see a damned thing.
“Guess I got to keep you in my basement for the weekend,” Dennis says, sounding smug. “Jean Paul told me it takes a little while to fully break a hypno-slut in, but with your prior training and all, it should go fairly quick for us if I keep putting you under….”
I try to scream, but my voice cracks, and I can only stammer, “W-what?”
“That’s right. You’ll be my good girl all weekend and then you’ll be everyone’s good girl at work. Can’t exactly get you demoted in title, but from now on, we’ll all know that you’re really just our little figurehead cumslut.”
“Please,” I beg, complete horror washing over me, especially as I realize that I’m chained to something solid in the dark, my body sore and completely nude. “Please let me go—”
“Nah. That’s no fun.” Dennis chuckles. “Always be a good girl….”