Sarah burst into tears when Lachlan told her she had to surrender something new - already, so soon after the last time.

 

“Please, sir,” she begged, “please, stop.  I will… I will be your sex slave.  I know I’m ugly and disgusting and my tits are too small and… and my cunt smells.  But I’ll be your pet.  You can… own me.  But please stop making me surrender things.  It’s getting harder and… soon there’s not going to be any of me left.”

 

“Oh, of course there will,” said Lachlan.  “Not any of the original Sarah Rose, the one who was a bitch, perhaps - but there’ll be plenty of Sarah the Gender Traitor, who gets off on getting her fellow women raped.  And I *like* that Sarah.”

 

“Please,” begged Sarah.  “Don’t make me.”

 

“We’ve already had this talk, Kitten,” said Lachlan.  “I’m not making you do anything.  You’re doing it all to yourself.  Because you know you deserve it.  I could tell you that you don’t have to surrender anything, and you’d still feel compelled to do it anyway.  And besides, if you became my property, you couldn’t work here anymore, and you don’t want that, do you?”

 

Sarah moaned - and slowly shook her head.  The compulsions Lachlan had given her about her career meant that she had to keep working, to destroy the rights of her fellow women.  She was eager and driven to see it happen.

 

“And you want to please me, don’t you?” he asked her.  “And what will please me?”

 

“When I get giant porn tits,” whispered Sarah.

 

“And when will that be?” he asked her.

 

“When I surrender three more things,” she whispered.

 

“Two more things, after the one you’re about to give up,” said Lachlan.  “So you see?  You have to keep playing, so you can fuck up two more times, and get your giant fake fuckballoons.”

 

Sarah shuddered with horror.

 

“You look pretty when you’re crying, Kitten,” said Lachlan.  “Still disgustingly ugly, but prettier than normal.  Do you like being pretty for me?”

 

“Yes,” gasped Sarah.

 

“Then why aren’t you being pretty?” he asked her.

 

Sarah frantically began undressing until she was nude.  Then she took a position on all fours, with her tits hanging down, like a dog.  She looked up at him.

 

“Please, sir,” she said.  “Cum on my face and tits and make me pretty.  Or cum in my pussy to make it clean.”

 

Lachlan laughed and took a seat in front of her.  He took out his cock and began to masturbate, pointing it at Sarah.

 

“Tell me what you’re going to surrender, Kitten,” he told her.

 

She was silent - thinking.  Her options were increasingly poor with each surrender.

 

This was the list of things she still hadn’t given up:

 

• Her bladder
• Her family
• Her finances
• Her heart
• Her history and life story
• Her intelligence
• Her name
• Her opinions
• Her possessions
• Her privacy
• Her reproductive system
• Her willpower

 

To Lachlan’s mind, the correct choice for her was “her bladder”.  Sure, it would be humiliating for her to wet herself in executive meetings, to piss on Faith’s face whenever Faith licked her to orgasm, to not be able to relax her bladder at work except in a special kitty litter he would set up for her in the open-plan area. 

 

But it was just a humiliation.  The rest of her options involved giving something up forever - her money, her possessions, or her identity.

 

But either the thought of peeing her panties in public held a special and deep dread for Sarah, or else she was “thinking with her cunt” as he had taught her to do, and deliberately self-sabotaging herself.

 

“My finances,” she breathed.  “I surrender my finances.”

 

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” said Lachlan.  “Once I’m done with you here you will, of course, transfer all your bank accounts into my name, along with any other way you have of receiving money.  And I’ll see my lawyer about the paperwork necessary for me to make financial decisions and commitments on your behalf.  Do you have any significant debts, Kitten?”

 

She shook her head.  “No, sir,” she said.

 

“You will,” said Lachlan.  “I’m going to sign you up to buy something expensive that you can’t afford - something humiliating.  Maybe a giant nude statue of a woman being raped - we’ll see.  So that you’ll be saddled with a nice big debt that you have no way of paying off.  You won’t be able to use your wage from this job, because it’s going to go straight into my account.  You won’t be able to use your savings or equity, because I control them.  If you want spending money, you’re going to have to come to me and beg for pocket money.  And if you want to pay off your expensive new artwork - you’re going to need a second job.”

 

“A second job?” said Sarah.

 

“That’s right, Kitten,” said Lachlan.  “It’s up to you what it is.  It can be anything.  Only… if it’s not a job that demeans you and humiliates you and trades on your sexuality and the size of your tits, then I’m going to keep that money too, and you’ll be right back where you started.  So make sure that it’s a job that you couldn’t get if you were ugly and had small tits, and where you’re reminded of that every day that you work there.”

 

A flush of humiliation spread across Sarah’s face as she remained nude on all fours in front of him.  Lachlan pumped his cock harder.

 

“Oh, and Kitten?” he said.  “We can’t have anyone knowing that it’s the Secretary of the Department of Women working this new job.  So I want you to find a sexy wig that doesn’t look like your real hair for this new job.  And I want you to call yourself ‘Tits McSlut’.”

 

Sarah’s face showed a trace of defiance.  “That’s a ridiculous name, sir,” she said.

 

“I know,” laughed Lachlan.  “And you’re going to insist with a straight face that it’s your real name, your only name.  Don’t answer to anything else.  Understand?”

 

She pouted, and was silent.

 

But, after a moment: “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good Kitten,” said Lachlan.

 

And with that, he felt himself orgasming.  He grabbed Sarah by the hair to lift her head up, so that he could spray her face and fuckbags with his cum.

 

“There,” he said, once he was done.  “*Now* you look pretty.”

 

===

 

Sarah’s finances were transferred into Lachlan’s control in due course, and Lachlan had take a deep breath looking at his new financial statements, because Sarah was *not* poor.  She’d been drawing executive-level salaries for years, and investing the vast majority rather than spending it.  

 

As best Lachlan could tell, if he sold Sarah’s existing apartment and combined it with her finances, he could buy himself a pretty impressive mansion, with more than enough room for a pretty cage to hold Sarah in when he wasn’t using her.

 

But of course he didn’t have her house yet.  He had her finances, but not her possessions.  But it would come soon enough.  

 

He found the perfect item for her new debt, and made Sarah sign the necessary forms to make herself liable for its cost.  It was an indoor fountain, so big that it took up most of Sarah’s living room.  The basin featured a live-sized sculpture of a nude woman, lying on her back, her large fake tits pointed up, her legs and arms chained into place.  And above her stood the sculpture of a muscular naked man.  He gripped his semi-erect penis in one hand and held it over the woman’s body.

 

When the fountain was turned on, water spurted from the male sculpture’s cock to splash onto the face and tits of the chained woman below him, so that it looked like he was continually pissing or cumming on her.

 

It was crude and it was tasteless and Sarah would never be able to explain why she owned it to anyone who saw it.  It also cost over $200,000, with monthly repayments.

 

Lachlan had arranged to give Sarah a small fortnightly allowance, in cash.  It was enough to cover fuel for her car, and modest meals, and not much else.  He would take care of her power and water bills and suchlike himself, using her money.  If Sarah wanted anything else for herself - such as clothes, or medicine, or for that matter tampons - she would have to beg him to buy it for her.

 

Which meant that she absolutely did have to find a second job in order to service the loan on her appalling new fountain.  And because Sarah was a motivated, driven women, she managed to find such a job within four days.

 

As soon as she told him about it, he knew that he absolutely had to see it.  He headed to her new workplace straight after work, and waited until she came on shift.

 

It was the local franchise of “Melons”, a restaurant and bar known for only employing female waitresses with generous busts.  Even among exploitative restaurants of this sort, it was an employer of last resort.  It was well known that it paid its waitresses less than competitors - leaving them more reliant on tips - and it treated them worse.  And the word was that waitresses who complained about sexual harassment or handsy customers got fired, so it was common knowledge that you could casually grope the big-titted waitresses of Melons without repercussions.

 

Sarah looked amazing in the Melons uniform.  A tight white-and-green top, cut off at the midriff, showing generous cleavage, with no bra beneath.  The fabric was thin and Sarah’s erect nipples could not have been more obvious.  And a pair of tight booty shorts, again with no underwear.  Most of Sarah’s ass cheeks were visible, and the crotch was molded so tightly to her vulva that Lachlan could see every curve of her pussy lips in explicit detail, with a visibly wet patch in the fabric right in the centre of her crotch.  It was even more revealing than the average Melons waitress, and Lachlan suspected that Sarah had been given clothes that were one size too small.

 

She was wearing a wig, like he had asked - a bright pink thing, with pigtails, that made her look like a baby clown.  And the name badge pinned to her bosom read, “Hi!  I’m TITS.”

 

And… there was a kind of glossy shine across her cleavage, and part of her cheek.  It was cum.  Someone had ejaculated on her, and instead of cleaning it off, she had rubbed it in, and was now working with cum visible on her face and tits.

 

To make herself look pretty.

 

The restaurant wasn’t full, but nor was it empty, and every second or third table had a couple of men at it, and Sarah’s curvy form attracted obvious interest as she walked across the restaurant floor towards Lachlan.  Her face was bright red.  She was obviously humiliated by every second wearing these clothes and working this demeaning minimum-wage job.

 

“Hello, sir,” she said as she approached.  “My name is Tits, and I’ll be your waitress today.  How can I please you?”

 

“Hello, Tits,” said Lachlan, smiling.  He reached out and groped her crotch, gripping her whole pussy mound in his hand, making her gasp and jump.  His thumb pressed at the material of her booty shorts, pushing it upwards, into the cleft between her pussy lips, shoving it into her wet fuckhole and soaking it in her juices.

 

“I hate you,” hissed Sarah, closing her eyes to blot out her humiliation.  “I hate this.”

 

“I didn’t make you do this, Tits,” said Lachlan.  “This is how you chose to service your debt.  You could have gotten work as a model, you know.”

 

“I’m too ugly to be a model,” whispered Sarah.  “You know that.  My giant whorish fuckbags are disgusting.  No one would want to look at me.”

 

“Can I tell you a secret, Sarah?” said Lachlan.  “When you dress like this - when you objectify yourself, so nobody can look at you and see a woman with rights, but only something for them to fuck - you look a lot prettier.  The less you look like a person, and the more you look like a set of holes connected to a giant pair of udders, the prettier you are.”

 

Sarah took a deep breath as this change to her perception of her body set in.  And then she smiled, delighted to discover she had become prettier.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she blushed, apparently having forgotten temporarily how much she hated him.

 

“How did you get this job so quickly?” he asked her, still pushing his thumb up her fuckhole, through her shorts, gently fingerfucking her pussy in public.

 

Sarah looked around to see if anyone was looking at her.  They were.  Several tables were watching Lachlan fingerfuck the big-titted waitress with interest.

 

Sarah lowered her voice into the barest whisper.

 

“I sucked the manager’s cock, sir,” she said.  “And I let him fuck me before each shift and cum on my face and tits.”

 

“Did he ask for that, Tits?” said Lachlan.

 

She shook her head.  “No,” she said.  “I offered, because I knew I wasn’t pretty enough to get the job otherwise.”

 

Lachlan had to struggle not to laugh.  Clearly, with her beauty and tits, Sarah could have gotten a job here anyway, but she had prostituted and degraded herself for no reason because of her false body image.  It was delightful.

 

“It must be embarrassing for you, an executive with a university degree, to be working as a Melons waitress,” said Lachlan.

 

Sarah looked like she might cry.  “The manager didn’t believe I had a degree,” she said.  “Or that I had experience as an executive.  He said I wouldn’t be applying for this job and offering to such his cock if I had those things.  He wouldn’t give me the job until I admitted that I lied, and that I was clearly too stupid and big-titted to have a degree, or be an executive.  And then he… he spanked me.  On my bottom.  For lying.”

 

“You deserved that, Tits,” said Lachlan.  “Because you *are* too stupid to be an executive or have a degree.”

 

At that moment, a male voice yelled out, “Hurry up and take his order, Tits.  We have other customers,” and Sarah jerked back away from Lachlan’s hand as if she had been slapped.

 

Lachlan laughed.  “I’ll have a beer, and a chicken parmigiana, Tits,” he said.

 

“Yes, sir,” said Sarah.  “Thank you, sir.”

 

As Lachlan waited for his food, he watched other customers interact with Sarah.  One man reached out and grabbed her left tit as she was talking to him, and squeezed it.  Another fondled her ass.  He heard one table call her “cunt” as they placed their order.  At a group of teens who must have been only 18 or 19, one boy reached out and pulled both her breasts out of her top, exposing them to the gaze of the room, and Lachlan watched with pleasure as Sarah thanked him for doing it and asked for permission to cover herself again.  As she turned to walk away, they grabbed her booty shorts, and pulled them down, so they fell around her ankles.  Sarah was carrying a precarious pile of dishes on her arms, so she couldn’t reach down to pull up her pants, and so she had to waddle, bare-cunted and bare-assed, back to the bar so she could put down her load and fix her clothes, as the teenagers laughed.

 

When Sarah eventually returned with his food, Lachlan immediately grabbed her cunt again and began violating her fuckhole with his thumb.

 

“Be honest, Tits,” he said.  “Does it feel more right to you to be working at the Department?  Or working here?  Where do you belong?”

 

Sarah went bright red - but she was trapped by his command to be honest.  Lying was against the Code of Conduct.

 

She was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “Here.”

 

“Why is that, Tits?” said Lachlan.

 

“Because the clothes I wear to work are a costume to hide the real me,” she said.  “But here I dress like the person I really am.  And I look prettier here.  And people treat me in the way that sluts with big udders deserve to be treated.  And I’m embarrassed and humiliated all the time here, which is how women deserve to feel for being women.”

 

“Very good, Tits,” said Lachlan.  “I think you’re going to learn some very valuable lessons here.”

 

===

 

After the meal he left her a very generous tip, because he was feeling kindly, along with a note that she had earned it because “your udders were enjoyable and your fuckhole was wet”.  

 

And when he went home he immediately drafted an email to a group of men from the office - men who he knew were conscious of Sarah’s ongoing degradation, and enjoyed it, and approved of it.

 

“You guys have to go to Melons after work tomorrow,” it read.  “You’ll never guess who’s working there - and how much she enjoys it when you grope her tits and pussy…”

 

And then he leaned back and enjoyed the knowledge that taking an unauthorised and undeclared side-job was another breach of the Code of Conduct, and Sarah would soon be surrendering something new to him… when she had so few things left to surrender.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)