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.

 

(THE END)