Sarah’s brain was getting progressively more confused with each new surrender.  Lachlan was a little worried about it.  When Sarah eventually broke completely - as he was sure would soon be the case - he intended to tidy up a little, and make her lusts and urges simpler, with less distracting guilt and crossed purposes.  But for now the stress served him well, as it pushed Sarah down the final spirals of her descent with increasing speed.

 

The false memories he had given her of begging him to adopt her as his surrogate child had cleared her of the crippling guilty of thinking she had seduced her own parents - and yet she was still visibly conflicted about her extreme and lewd sexual feelings for a man that she now called “daddy”.

 

And part of her desired to get a boobjob with all her heart, because she knew that giving herself over-inflated porn-balloon fuckbags would please Lachlan, and yet a good part of her remembered her feminist feelings and was terrified of this humiliating and demeaning permanent change to her body.

 

Rather than confront and pick apart these confused feelings - which her hypnotic programming prevented her from doing - she instead dealt with the conflict by leaning into her two greatest obsessions: her work, and her cunt.

 

Sarah masturbated constantly, wherever she could get away with it, desperate for the chemicals of arousal to turn off her brain and stop her from thinking about complicated and distressing things.  She fingered her twat in her office, in the toilets, and - once Lachlan gave her permission - in Lachlan’s office while she talked to him.  

 

She had even started surreptitiously masturbating in meetings and presentations, surrounded by men who weren’t privy to the secret of her slut transformation.  The meeting would start, and Sarah’s hand would move beneath the table, and for the rest of her time at the meeting she would be slowly, secretly rubbing her pussy through her panties while pretending to pay attention.

 

She didn’t have much else to do during these meetings, because Lachlan had begun to ritualise keeping Sarah silent during such gatherings.  Unless it was absolutely necessary for her to speak at a meeting, or unless Lachlan had some viewpoint he wanted her to argue for, he would call Sarah to his office before each meeting and have her suck his cock.  When he ejaculated into her mouth, he would make her hold it without swallowing - and continue to hold it for the duration of the meeting, giving her an excellent incentive to not open her mouth or express any opinions.

 

To enhance the effect, Lachlan liked to unbutton Sarah’s blouse down to the first button below her tits before these meetings, so that she displayed a copious and entirely work-inappropriate amount of cleavage.  This further reinforced the general perspective that Sarah was a brainless fuckdoll who had accidentally been invited to a meeting of important people, and dissuaded anyone from asking for her opinion on anything that mattered.  And Sarah would blush, and finger her twat, and taste the cum in her mouth, and come to think of all of this as normal and appropriate.

 

When masturbation wasn’t enough, Sarah would summon the poor blackmailed Faith - either to her office or to her home - and engage in epic sessions of nude, writhing, slutty lesbian sex.  She would always film these and send the film to Lachlan for his enjoyment, and in these sessions she rarely cared for Faith’s consent or enjoyment, instead using the poor woman as an object for her sexual pleasure - humping her cunt against Faith’s face, chewing cruelly on Faith’s clit, smearing her cunt juices over every inch of Faith’s body.

 

At the same time as Sarah was clouding her mind with masturbation, sex and arousal, she was also developing her new anti-women policies.

 

She briefed him on some of it one Wednesday afternoon in his office.  Before Lachlan allowed her to talk, he had her strip naked and masturbate him until he ejaculated on her face.  Then he allowed her to explain her work with his sperm still dripping off her cheeks and chin.

 

“We’ve been commissioning science on women, daddy,” Sarah told him, showing him several files.  “All the grant money has gone to very misogynistic research institutions - extremist churches, men’s rights groups, et cetera.  And we’ve privately made it clear that we’re looking for very specific results, which we’ll then give respectability to by publishing them through the department.”

 

She pointed to certain papers within the files.  “Look, this one has found that the brains of women don’t mature the same way that men’s do.  It concludes that in terms of basic reasoning and decision-making capacity, women are basically children for their entire lives.  It went on to find that women are more often happy with the results of decisions made for them by men than they are with the results of their own decisions.”

 

She identified another paper.  “This one finds that the cognition of women is closer to that of certain animals than it is to men, and it went on to find that animals outperformed women in a range of intelligence-based scenarios.”

 

“This one shows that women experience significantly less long-term trauma from rape if they are told that rape is normal and appropriate and inevitable rather than something that women should be scared of and ashamed of,” she went on.

 

“And this one shows that 92% of all women became aroused from some variation of fantasies of being raped, forced, enslaved, dominated or abused,” she said finally.

 

“So what are you going to do with all that?” asked Lachlan.

 

“Well, we’re currently lobbying to have being female listed as a recognised mental disability,” said Sarah.  “Women will be required to notify potential employers that they are mentally impaired by reason of being female.  They’ll be able to seek government funding to pay for a man to help them with their decisions, but they may be found mentally incompetent to enter into contracts or make important decisions without the agreement of such a man.  It’s our hope that we may even be able to stop them from voting at elections unless they have a man to sign off on their vote.”

 

“Very good, Kitten,” said Lachlan.  He reached out and stroked her hair affectionately.

 

“We’re going to run a campaign against the word ‘woman’,” said Sarah.  “We’re going to do that partly on a feminist front, because it’s just a derivation of ‘man’.  But also on a scientific front, because it means a mature woman, and the science says there’s no such thing.  We want the formal word to be just ‘girl’, but in legislation and formal communication we’re going to describe women as ‘bitches’ - because they’re a female animal - or ‘cunts’ - because of their anatomy.  I haven’t decided which is better yet.”

 

“A female animal,” said Lachlan.  “I like that.”

 

“Oh, yes,” said Sarah.  “One of the endgame moves I’d like to see is for all our legislation to have women taken out of the definition of ‘people’ and ‘humans’, and have women instead classed as a kind of animal.  The science supports that.  That will have all kinds of effects - they’ll be property, and their owners can make decisions for them, and they can be caged and kenneled…”

 

She paused and gasped.  Her hand was between her legs, fingering her cunt.

 

“God,” she said.  “I get so hot at that thought - rows of naked women in dog cages, their tits hanging down, their pussies exposed, waiting to be bred…”

 

“Good Kitten,” said Lachlan approvingly.

 

“And we’re going to do some work on normalising rape,” said Sarah.  “Ads like ‘Your rape doesn’t have to be traumatic!  Ten tips to enjoying your violation.’  Or ‘It’s normal to enjoy being raped.’  I’m still debating whether to keep referring to ‘rape’ or rebrand it to ‘surprise sex’.”

 

All of this pleased Lachlan.  He was beginning to feel that it was inevitable that Sarah would eventually be fired from her job, as she became sluttier and sluttier and found it harder and harder to hide her perversions.  The more that she accomplished before that fateful day, the better.

 

“There is one more matter I need to discuss with you, Kitten,” he told her.  “And it’s another breach of the Code of Conduct.”

 

Her eyes went wide and she went very still.

 

“It’s your side-job at Melons,” he told her.  “You know it’s against department policy for someone at your level to take a side-job.  It represents a conflict of interest.”

 

Her lip trembled.  He could see her going through the usual round of responses in her mind - that Lachlan had made her do it, that she hadn’t known, that Lachlan should grant her mercy - and dismissing them one by one.  She knew how this went.  She knew she was caught.

 

“So, Kitten,” he said.  “What are you going to surrender?  Play with your pussy for a bit to get your mind in the right space, and then tell me.”

 

There were only nine things left that Sarah had not surrendered:

 

• Her bladder
• Her heart
• Her intelligence
• Her name
• Her opinions
• Her possessions
• Her privacy
• Her reproductive system
• Her willpower

 

He could see her considering them as she fingered her cunt, her face flushed, her breathing shallow.  The obvious answer was her possessions - Lachlan already controlled her finances, after all, and it didn’t make much additional difference.  But when she was horny her mind didn’t let her take the easiest answer.  It made her answer like a slut.

 

And so, as her orgasm drew near and she began gasping for breath, she said, “My bladder, sir.”

 

He laughed.  He had told her what he would do if she ever surrendered this.  He intended to be more merciful than she believed, but he did need to follow through on his original threat.

 

“Good Kitten,” he told her.  “I control your bladder now.  From now on, while you are outside your house, you will never use a bathroom or toilet without getting permission from a man.  That man should be your boss, friend or family member if one is nearby, or otherwise a co-worker, or otherwise the man in your field of view who you think is least likely to give you permission.  Do you understand?”

 

“What if I don’t get permission, sir?” she asked.

 

“Then you wet yourself,” he told her.  “And if it is at all possible, you make sure that you’re where people can see you when you wet yourself.  And if you make a mess on the floor as a result, you take off your skirt and panties to wipe it up.  Do you understand?”

 

She made a little noise of horror.  “Please, sir,” she said.  “I can’t take off my clothes in public.  I’ll be arrested.”

 

He considered that.  “Very well.  You can judge whether you’ll be arrested, and if you think you will you are excused.  But only arrest.  Any lesser consequence - including extreme humiliation - is acceptable.”

 

She nodded.

 

“I also want you to print out a couple of thousand pictures of yourself naked,” he said.  “I’ll send you some of my collection, but maybe take a couple of extra pictures of yourself too.  About 10 different pictures, repeated a hundred times each, should be fine.  Print them on the lowest quality paper you can find, and take them home, and use them as toilet paper.  I like the idea of you wiping your cunt or your ass with your own face.”

 

She nodded.

 

Lachlan looked at his computer, and typed for a bit, leaving Sarah kneeling beside him, waiting.

 

Finally he said, “And I’ve booked you a meeting with some of the men from the office,” he said.  “You’re due to attend in two hours.  You’re going to give a short talk about why women are inherently sluts who deserve to be raped, do you understand?”

 

She had a worried expression.

 

“Just men in this meeting, Kitten,” he told her.  “And ones that will be receptive to your topic.”  

 

In fact it would be Vivaan, Trent, Armin, and a few others, who not only knew what a slut Sarah was, but had fucked her at her gang-rape party.  They would enjoy this show.

 

“And while you are speaking, Kitten,” he told her, “you are going to wet yourself.  And then clean it up as I have told you.”

 

He had promised her he would do this to her.  He needed to follow through on the promise.

 

And to his delight, even as she looked horrified, part of her expression was of lust.  She was so fucked up now - so guilty, so confused - that she craved this degradation, this humiliation.  Her pussy had probably been throbbing with desire as she deliberately chose this exact surrender.

 

“You might need to do something special for the men so that they don’t report you wetting yourself in the office,” said Lachlan.  “Why don’t you let them play with your tits - their last chance to play with this version before the upgrade - and then fuck you?”

 

===

 

Lachlan didn’t need to attend the meeting.  He had other things to do, and in any case Vivaan filmed it, and sent him a copy, as well as distributing it amongst some of the other men in the office.  Sarah did indeed look absolutely gorgeous, in the full flower of her humiliation, as she released her bladder in public in front of men, and she looked even hotter as she scampered to clean up her mess using her skirt with her ass and cunt exposed.

 

He stayed late to watch what she did before heading home - and, as he had suspected, the silly little slut used the work photocopiers to create her thousand nude images, after everyone else had left.

 

Pissing on the floor at work was definitely a Code of Conduct violation.  Using the photocopiers for personal use was another.

 

Sarah was falling quickly now.  Soon every last piece of her would belong to Lachlan.

 

And then he could remake her into whatever he chose.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)