Emma's Policy

Part 5

by All These Roadworks

Tags: #cw:noncon #D/s #dom:male #f/m #humiliation #office #sub:female #bimbofication #blackmail #exec2sec

Emma’s Policy, Part 5
Story by All These Roadworks (2021).
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Emma walked nervously into the IT department of Kavenagh & True.  She still had trouble balancing on six-inch heels, and her neckline was low enough that she was worried her tits would pop all the way out of it if she moved too fast.
She approached Cory, the junior IT support worker here.  Technically, he was so far below her in the corporate hierarchy that she should never have to visit his desk.  She wouldn’t even send him an email - she’d have a *subordinate* send him an email.
But things had changed for Emma.
“Hello, sir,” she said nervously.
He turned away from his computer screen to look at her.  “Good morning, bitch,” he said.  “That blouse makes you look like a whore.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.  She paused.  She had to draw attention to her fuckability in every conversation - but she tried to avoid actually inviting men to fuck her, because she knew there was a real risk they’d take her up on it.  “It makes my pussy wet when you say things like that,” she said, finally.  And to her shame, it was actually true.  She couldn’t believe what a slut she had become.
But she had come here for a reason.  “Sir,” she said, “my computer seems to have lost its connection to the printer.  Could you please fix it for me?”
Cory thought for a moment, then stood up - and slapped Emma across the face.
She gasped in shock, and reddened with humiliation.
“That’s for not being respectful enough,” he told her.
This was her own fault, in a way.  Only yesterday, she had gone to every male employee in Kavanagh & True, and begged them on her knees to discipline her.  They could spank her cunt if they thought she was being a slut.  They could spank her ass if her work performance was poor.  And if they thought she was being disrespectful, they could slap her across the face, or whip her tits.  Really, she was lucky that Cory had chosen to slap her.  She should be grateful.
Admittedly, it hadn’t been entirely her idea to do this.  The humiliating request had been ordered by Tim, as part of the continuing price for not revealing how much money her diversity program was costing the company - a revelation that would get her fired.  And also, of course, it was now the price for not publicising the various slutty things she had done since the blackmail began.
Emma let the stinging pain spread through her cheek, and tried to think.  She had displeased Cory.  She hadn’t been respectful enough.  What had she missed?
She didn’t know.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “How should I be more respectful?”  She felt genuine shame at having fucked up, even though she didn’t know how she had fucked up yet.  She recognised with alarm that this was not normal for her - that she was slowly being conditioned to a place of inferiority and submission - but it didn’t stop her feeling it.  She wanted to please Cory - both to feel the warm glow of male approval, and to prevent him slapping her again. 
“You were talking to me like you were my work colleague,” said Cory, “instead of talking to me like you’re a worthless fuckpig that worships male cock.”
She flushed - and she was not so far gone that there was not a little anger in that flush - but she said, “I’m sorry, sir.  How should I do better?”
Cory said, “Before asking me for something, whore, maybe try kissing my cock respectfully.  And covering your cunt while you’re talking to me, as if you have a right to conceal it, is just bitchy.  Would you like to try again?”
Emma became aware that the whole IT section were watching her.  There were some chuckles.  She wanted to become invisible.  She wondered if maybe being fired wouldn’t be better than putting up with this.  It might be - but being fired for the official reason of being a whore, and having Tim’s films of her masturbating in the toilets and sucking his cock made public?  No, she had to obey.
She sank down to her knees, leaned forward, and kissed Cory’s cock through his pants.  She made it a firm, forceful kiss, almost fellating him through the cloth, because she worried that if she didn’t please him he would either slap her again, or make her take his cock out and give him actual oral sex, right here in front of everyone.
“Good cunt,” said Cory.
Then she stood and, blushingly, reached under her skirt to pull down her panties.  They fell around her ankles, and then she lifted her skirt to show him her bare - and very wet - pussy.
“Please, sir, can you fix the computer of this worthless cocksleeve?” she asked.
Cory sighed.  “I’ll go look at it,” he said.  Then he looked up at two of the other men in IT.  “God, can you believe this slut?” he said.  “Didn’t she come around yesterday and ask to be disciplined if she behaved like this?”
Emma’s eyes widened - but before she could do anything, the men had grabbed her and pulled her onto a nearby desk, her back against the wood, her legs in the air.  One man pulled her panties the rest of the way off her legs, and then pulled them wide apart, baring her snatch to the entire office.
Then the other man - she thought his name was Ben - began to beat her cunt with her hand.
Cory chuckled as he walked away, but Emma barely noticed.  She was wailing with each blow to her cunt.  And the men were right.  She had asked them to do this.  She had *begged* them to.  And didn’t she deserve it?  She had just kissed a man’s cock and exposed her pussy in the middle of the workplace.  It was disgusting.  *She* was disgusting.
The men exchanged places.  Now the first one was holding her legs and the second was spanking her pussy.  She had only asked them for ten spanks per incident of sluttiness but they were now well past that.  Maybe they were giving her ten spanks per person.  And another ten on behalf of Cory.  That was only fair.  She deserved this pain.
On the twenty-second spank, she orgasmed.  She couldn’t believe that she was cumming from the pain and humiliation of having her vulva beaten in the workplace, but that was what was happening.  She moaned with shame.  There was laughter from the men watching, and one suggested that she needed another ten blows to punish her for her slutty orgasm.  The men abusing her agreed.
On the thirty-fourth spank she came again, but thankfully no one suggested further extending her punishment.  It was clear to everyone now that she was in an incoherent space, rendered insensible by the pleasure and pain.  On spank number 40, they stopped, and just left her there on the desk, her legs splayed open, her naked cunt drooling its arousal into a puddle on the desktop. 
She knew she should get up and cover herself, but it took her fully 15 minutes to gather her self-possession enough to move, stand, and stumble away in shame and degradation.
Over the course of the week, Emma became used to men randomly disciplining her.  It became normal to be slapped across the face by men in conversation.  Sometimes she would know why it happened.  Sometimes she wouldn’t.  She became more and more eager to pre-emptively please men, to avoid being slapped, and became very creative at degrading herself and emphasising her fuckability.
When she wasn’t slutty enough in interacting with them, men would slap her face, and sometimes expose her tits and beat them.  And then make her try again, until she was sufficiently slutty.  And then afterwards they would bare her pussy and spank her cunt for being a slut.
She managed to make deals with the men she talked to most often.  She would be appropriately respectful when talking to them - kiss their cock, kiss their shoes, show them her pussy, or other degradations (each man had his own favourite) - and they would save their abuse of her cunt until the end of the work day.  She might get forty or fifty open-handed slaps to her pussy before going home, from a variety of men, until her pussy was throbbing with pain - but the intensity and continuous rhythm was enough for her to cum, and it didn’t interrupt her work as much.
Because, after all, if she didn’t do her job, she would have her ass spanked.  (And this happened regularly too, but not as much as she might have expected, because the men generally seemed to prefer abusing her breasts and pussy rather than her buttocks.)
A part of her was still trying to remember that she was a powerful, self-possessed executive, who deserved respect and dignity.  It reminded her that when the tables were turned, all these men would pay for what they had done to her - that it was abuse, humiliation, and completely undeserved.
But another part of her had started to flinch when she approached a man and realised that she wasn’t crawling on all fours, ready to kiss his cock.  It was anticipating the slap, and knowing that she deserved it, for being stupid and disrespectful.
That part of her had stopped thinking of the pussy spankings as something that shouldn’t happen, but rather as something that was inevitable and normal, and instead of trying to work out how to avoid them, it was working out how to please the men she worked with so that they wouldn’t hurt her too badly, and so that they would let her cum from the pain.
It was a part of her that had stopped fuming with anger when she was called “bitch” or “sugar-tits” or “whore-udders”, but which was instead already preparing to say, “Thank you, sir,” in her chirpiest and most enthusiastic voice, so that the man who had degraded her would feel respected.  It felt worried when men didn’t grope her tits or ass as she walked by, worried that she had offended them somehow.
It was a part of her mind which was always thinking at the back of her mind for new ways to make men picture fucking her while she talked to them, creating new ways to emphasise the fact that she was a set of holes for men to ejaculate into.  She felt a little surge of perverse pride every time she thought of a good one, and felt stressed if her supply of ideas started to run low.
Every day she sat at her desk, her skirt around her waist, impaled on the dildo on her office chair, and stared at the desktop background that reminded her that she was a disgusting slut who masturbated in the toilets, and wrote documents that referred to women as “rape-pigs” and disparaged their ideas and their competence.  She wanted to rub her pussy almost all the time, but didn’t dare do so without permission.
When she needed to use the toilet, she would beg a man to let her piss, kneeling in front of his cock and looking up at him with big, pathetic eyes.  Sometimes they would let her.  Sometimes they wouldn’t.  She hadn’t wet herself in the office yet, but she thought it was only a matter of time, and she knew that when it happened that she would deserve it, for not being able to hold it in like a good bitch, for not asking a man nicely enough for permission.  She would get her cunt slapped for that, she was sure, and she already felt the shame of knowing that *nice girls* didn’t wet themselves and need to have their pussy spanked, it was just her, Emma, the disrespectful office whore…
And at the end of the week, her diversity program still wasn’t delivering results, and she knew she would have to go back to Tim and accept yet another “improvement” to her behaviour…

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