As soon as Sarah arrived at the office on Monday morning, Lachlan knew he had gone too far.  In his head, and in video chats with Sarah, the clothes he had picked out for her new outfit had seemed embarrassing but defensible.  But now he saw her in the cold light of day, Lachlan knew that he had not been nearly as subtle as he thought.

 

Sarah tottered into the office on six-inch pink high heels.  White stockings led from her feet up her thighs, stopping just short of her tiny pink miniskirt.  Her white dress shirt was far too tight, exposing a hint of stomach, and stretching lewdly across her tits.  Her soft brown hair was in blowjob-handlebar pigtails, and her makeup made her look like an aspiring teen prostitute.

 

Beneath it, Lachlan knew she would be wearing the lingerie he had ejaculated into the night before.

 

Everyone was staring at Sarah in disbelief as she hurried across the open workfloor to her executive office.  Everyone was thinking that Sarah looked like a slut - like a bimbo.  Sarah knew what they were thinking, and her deep humiliated blush would have aroused Lachlan, had he not been terrified that he’d exposed his abusive game before it had even really started.

 

Sarah closed her office door once she was inside, and Lachlan’s first instinct was to go in after her and tell her to change.  But what would she change into?  And if Sarah’s slutty new bimbo persona was about to be exposed, it was best that Lachlan stay as far away from it as possible.

 

So he went to his own office, and waited, and tried to work.  And at 11 am, his worst fears came true - an email invitation arrived, directing him to attend a meeting with the Minister for Women.

 

“A discipline matter has been raised against the secretary, Ms Sarah Rose,” said the email.  “Ms Rose has requested you be present as her interview friend.”

 

The Minister for Women was Mr Matthew Hartfield MP, a junior member of the governing conservative party.  The appointment of a man as Minister for Women was an unsubtle expression of the role the government saw for women in society, and it was generally thought that the government would defund women’s programs entirely, including the Department for Women, if they thought they could get away with it without forever losing the support of female voters entirely.

 

He was also notable for a scandal early in his career, in which a young female staffer in his office had accused him of rape.  The police had refused to investigate the matter, his party had publicly backed him, and the young woman in question became the subject of weekly editorials in the major conservative news outlet which painted her as a slut, a liar, and a whore.  Since then, Mr Hartfield had continued to rotate a succession of pretty young women through his office, all of whom ended up leaving suddenly for unexplained reasons, but there had been no further accusations of rape.

 

The Minister was also Sarah’s direct superior, and the only person who could address discipline matters relating to her actions.

 

The Minister’s office was normally a few blocks over, but it seemed he was attending the Department personally, as Lachlan’s invitation was to a meeting room on one of the upper floors of the building.

 

When Lachlan arrived, the minister was already there, seated behind a large mahogany table in an immaculate blue suit.  Sarah was also there, dressed like a bimbo and agonisingly aware of how she looked, her arms crossed defensively over her tits and her face flushed with humiliation.

 

Lachlan noted that the minister had no aid or assistant or secretary.  It was an unusual choice for anyone holding a disciplinary meeting - but then Matthew Hartfield was an unusual minister, and one who was not known for always making the wise choice.

 

“Ah, Mr Garvey,” said the Minister.  “Have a seat.  We were about to discuss the unprofessional clothing of Miss Rose.”

 

Sarah was fuming with anger.  “You cannot be serious,” she said.  “Are you really, as a man, going to tell the Secretary of the Department of Women what she can and cannot wear?”

 

“You cannot be serious, *sir*,” corrected the Minister, and waited.

 

Sarah looked like she’d eaten a lemon.  But the term of respect *was* the appropriate way to address the Minister, even without the submission that Lachlan had been slowly training her in.

 

“You cannot be serious, sir,” she parroted, with a pout.

 

“I absolutely can be serious, Miss Rose,” said the Minister.  “You’re supposed to be the leading light of feminism in our public service, and today you have turned up to work dressed like a stripper aspiring to be a trophy wife.  Would you care to tell me what is happening?  And I will remind you that your professional code of conduct requires you to be honest.”

 

Sarah looked over at Lachlan in a panic.  She couldn’t tell the Minister what Lachlan was doing to her, certainly - but any other “honest” answer about her situation would sound ridiculous.  It was clear from her face that she thought she was about to be fired in disgrace.

 

But Lachlan had been making his own calculations.  He had been thinking about the background of this particular minister, and the way he seemed to be taking a cruel pleasure in Sarah’s embarrassment and discomfort - and the way that he had been staring at Sarah’s tits since Lachlan had first walked into the room.

 

This was a time to be bold.  Lachlan decided to wager everything.

 

“Sir, if I may,” said Lachlan, “I’ve been close to Miss Rose professionally over the last few weeks, and she has confided to me that she has been… exploring a new relationship with her feminism.”

 

The Minister’s eyebrow went up.  “Oh?  And what is that relationship exactly?”

 

“Well,” said Lachlan, “for example, Miss Rose used to have a range of seminal feminism texts on the shelf in her office.  And many of those have gone missing in recent weeks.”

 

The Minister looked at Sarah.  “Yes?  And where have those books gone, Miss Rose?”

 

Sarah was trapped.  There was no way she wanted to tell the truth.  But if she lied, she would have to surrender something else to Lachlan - and it wouldn’t even solve her problem.  The Minister wasn’t going to stop questioning her if she evaded this question.

 

She looked like she might cry.  She turned to Lachlan again, and the knowledge that she was turning to him for aid, when she knew him to be the author of all her woes, made his cock hard.

 

“Tell the truth, Sarah,” he whispered.  “Trust me.”

 

She did cry then - a single tear running down her cheek.  She looked down at the floor, and spoke quietly.

 

“I ripped them up,” she said.  “And used the pages to wipe my ass in the toilet.”

 

There was a long silence.  The Minister was clearly shocked and surprised by her answer.

 

Another tear ran down Sarah’s cheek.

 

“Tell me, Miss Rose,” said the Minister finally, “do you actually believe that women deserve equal rights to men?”

 

There was only one truthful answer that Sarah could give.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

“What do you think women *are* good for, Miss Rose?” asked the Minister.

 

There was a silence again, and then Sarah spoke.

 

“Rape,” she said.

 

“I see,” said the Minister.  He turned to Lachlan.  “Tell me, Mr Garvey.  What is your true relationship with Miss Rose?”

 

“She’s been coming to see me about her conflicted feelings about feminism,” said Lachlan.  “She’s felt guilty and hypocritical working in this role when her genuine belief is that women are inferior to men.  She’s been offering me blowjobs - she’s really quite addicted to swallowing men’s cum - and asking me to punish her for being a slut.”

 

“Fascinating,” said the Minister.  “Are you aware, Miss Rose, that that behaviour is a serious breach of your professional code of conduct?”

 

Sarah was certainly aware, though neither Sarah nor Lachlan were about to volunteer that she had already been punished for the breach.  Sarah merely nodded.

 

“You understand that everything I have heard today would fully justify me not only in firing you, but in going to the media to report your misbehaviour in detail?” asked the Minister.

 

Sarah was really crying now.  Tears of shame and humiliation were rolling down her cheeks.  She hadn’t seen what Lachlan had seen, and she really thought she was about to be fired, and revealed to the world as a cum-swallowing slut and a traitor to her gender.

 

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

 

The Minister nodded.  “Good,” he said.  “Now, that said, I do not *have* to fire you today - if we can come to an accommodation.”

 

Sarah looked up in surprise and hope.

 

“As you have pointed out, the choice to dress like a bimbo is itself a feminist choice,” said the Minister, “and it could be seen as inappropriate for me to police your wardrobe, no matter how infantile and whorish your choices make you look.  But I need you to own this choice, Sarah.”

 

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Sarah.

 

“I want you to run it as a public campaign through your office,” said the Minister.  “‘It’s okay to dress like a slut,’ or something similar.  Publicise the idea that dressing like a fuckdoll is in some way a feminist option.  High heels are empowering, cleavage shows confidence, that kind of thing.  Can you do that for me, Sarah?”

 

She blushed.  She had once believed that such choices - when freely made by a woman - *were* consistent with feminism.  But to promote them because a man had told her to, with the intention of encouraging women to dress to please men, was about as far from feminism as she could imagine.

 

“Yes,” she said.  “I can do that, sir.”

 

“And you should encourage the women in your Department to dress that way,” said the Minister.  “Not all of them, maybe, but enough so you don’t stand out as much when you come to work dressed like that.  In the meantime, though, I think you’d better go home after this meeting and change into something more normal.  We can let your new sense of style come through more gradually, don’t you think?”

 

Sarah looked at Lachlan.

 

“Consider it a costume, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “A business suit that doesn’t represent you, to hide the bimbo slut inside.”

 

She blushed at the insult - but was also grateful for the permission to hide her new sense of style.  And he knew that it *would* be a costume for her, and that with her underlying sense of style rewritten by the discipline program, that every day she would chafe at her professional suit, longing to change into the shorter skirts and revealing tops that better suited her identity.

 

“I think this could be the start of a good relationship, Sarah,” said the Minister.  “The government has a range of policies for women that we’ve faced resistance on implementing - but with the aid of a Secretary for Women who doesn’t truly believe in equal rights, we can finally make headway on them.  Programs encouraging women to be less litigious about sexual harassment and assault.  Programs encouraging women to be traditional wives and breeders.  Programs encouraging women to be pretty, obedient, and submissive.  Would you like to help implement those programs, Sarah?”

 

Sarah made a distressed, confused noise, half consent and half choked, humiliated sob.  

 

The Minister clearly took it as a yes.

 

“And of course, there’s one more thing, Sarah,” he said - and adjusted his pants.  “Lachlan says you have a strong interest in swallowing cum.”

 

She looked at him in despair, and then looked at Lachlan.

 

“I know it’s against the code of conduct to suck the Minister’s cock, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “But the alternative is to be fired, so I really think you should do what the Minister wants.”  He smiled at her.  “And we can discuss the consequences later.”

 

“Exactly,” said the Minister.  “Now, come over here, Sarah, and be a good woman.”  He looked up at Lachlan.  “You’re dismissed, Mr Garvey.  Thank you for your assistance.”

 

“Any time, sir,” said Lachlan.  He rose, and headed for the door.

 

Behind him, Sarah got out of her chair, and began to crawl underneath the mahogany desk, her eyes fixed on the Minister’s exposed, erect cock.

 

“Oh, Sarah,” said Lachlan, as he opened the door to leave, “when you’re done here, I’ll expect an email about your next choice in our little… project.  Don’t make me have to ask.”

 

“Yes, sir,” murmured Sarah, and then she said nothing more, as she took the Minister’s cock into her mouth.

 

“Good girl,” said Lachlan.  And he left Sarah to whore herself out to her boss.

 

He had feared this meeting, going in.  But now there were so many interesting new possibilities available.

 

He couldn’t wait to see what Sarah would surrender next.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)