The next day, Sarah was topless, her tits on display to the entire floor, before the office clock even showed 10 am.

 

Three men had cornered her in a corridor.  They had all seen her being fucked in her office the day before.  They wanted to see her “udders”.  Sarah had tried to comply, but she hadn’t been fast enough for them, so they had pulled off her blazer, and then her blouse, and then yanked on her bra so hard that the catches had ripped out of the fabric and ruined it entirely.  

 

They had all grabbed for her breasts, gripping them, pulling them in different directions, pinching her nipples, while marvelling at how huge and plastic and whorish they were.  Sarah, her back trapped against the wall and her mind trapped by the rules of her surrender, had only been able to quiver with fear and lust and let it happen.

 

And then the final humiliation - one of the men had pushed Sarah to her knees, taken his dick out of his pants, and pushed it into her mouth.  Right there in the work corridor.  The other men had laughed, and then taken out their cocks as well and begun to masturbate.  Sarah had no choice but to suck submissively.

 

Three men and two women walked past in the corridor while Sarah’s employee raped her mouth.  They all saw what was happening.  None of them commented.  None of them stopped it.  Sarah saw the looks of mixed disgust, contempt and fear on the faces of the women, and she knew what was happening right now: she was setting an example.  She was being a role model.  She was showing these young women how their gender should behave in the office.

 

The first man ejaculated in her mouth, and the other two came shortly afterwards, spurting hot cum over her face, hair and tits.  When they walked away, laughing, they took Sarah’s clothes with her.

 

Sarah went straight to Lachlan, hoping that he might give her a replacement shirt.  She made no attempt to clean the cum off her.  She knew it made her look prettier.  The only way she could be more attractive is if she were crying.  

 

“No, Kitten,” said Lachlan, when she arrived in his office.  “I don’t think you need to cover up.  This is who you are now.  A big pair of fake tits, covered in cum.  That sums up everything relevant about Sarah Rose perfectly.

 

She shivered, and knew it was true.

 

“And what are you going to surrender, Kitten?” he asked her.  “For walking around the office with your udders out?”

 

She moaned in despair.  It had been less than 24 hours since her last surrender.  She was still dealing with the humiliation of having pissed nude on her front lawn that morning with the neighbours watching, before eating nude from a dog bowl on all fours and dressing with that same audience.

 

“You can think about it while I breed you,” said Lachlan.  “Bend over my desk and raise your skirt.”

 

Sarah, hating the idea of being pregnant but nonetheless desperate to have Lachlan’s baby inside her, obeyed, presenting her cunt to him, and sighing with embarrassing lust as she felt his cock slide into her.

 

By the time he was cumming inside of her, some minutes later, she knew what she was surrendering.  She only had five options left, and there was only one of them that wouldn’t give Lachlan completely control over her mind.

 

“My name,” she choked, as she felt Lachlan’s hot sperm dripping from her cunt.  “I surrender my name, sir.”

 

“Good girl,” he said.  “You know, when I first planned this, I was going to change your name to Kitten when you surrendered this.  But I don’t think I will.”

 

She tensed, his cock still in her cunt, waiting to hear what he would do instead.

 

“I don’t think you need a name, Kitten,” he said.  “I think a name only encourages you to think of yourself as a person rather than as a big-uddered cum-dumpster.  I think when people ask for your name, you can just tell them that you prefer to be called ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ or ‘sweetie’ or ‘hey you’.”

 

She shuddered, as these words became her truth.

 

“And remember how you used to feel, back before all this, when someone called you a whore or a bitch?  How you’d be offended, shocked, humiliated, embarrassed, degraded?  How much you’d hate it?  That’s how you’re going to feel now when someone calls you Sarah.  It’s going to feel like a slap.  You don’t want them to do it.  Except you’re not going to get the sexual thrill you do now from being degraded - it’s just going to be unpleasant, and nothing else.  You don’t *deserve* to be called Sarah.  If someone calls you that, they’re being cruel to you, or else you’re a horrible person because you’re letting them believe you’re a person, not a fuckhole.  Do you understand?”

 

“I do, sir,” she breathed.  She did.

 

“Good girl,” said Lachlan.  “Tonight, go visit your parents and tell them you don’t want to be called Sarah anymore.  Tell them to call you ‘cunt’ or ‘bitch’.   Dress like a slut and make sure to wet yourself while they’re looking at you.  Afterwards, come straight to my house.  I want to breed you while you’re crying.”

 

She was crying already, just at the thought of it, and that gave Lachlan one further cruel idea.  He used his control over her sexuality to impose it on her.

 

“Oh, and Kitten?” he said.  “From now on, any time you’re crying, if you don’t have a cock in your pussy, I want you to masturbate.  It doesn’t matter where you are or who can see.  Don’t let yourself cum.  Just keep edging until you stop crying.  I want to see if we can train you to get aroused by your own misery.”

 

===

 

If anyone in the office had had any remaining doubts about Sarah, she removed them that afternoon, sitting in her office with her tits bare, cum visible on her face and udders, her legs spread, masturbating openly as she cried, thinking about how her life was ruined and how sluttily she would behave in front of her parents that night.  For the few who came to ask if she was alright, she told them not to call her Sarah, and that ‘bitch’ and ‘skank’ were appropriate ways to refer to her.

 

A female employee came to Sarah at one point and told Sarah that she had been raped by two male co-workers in the women’s toilets.  Sarah told her that she deserved it for acting like a slut and that she had better go thank her rapists by kissing them on the lips and inviting them to do it again, or else she would be fired.

 

===

 

Sarah was a delicious crying mess when she got to Lachlan’s house, dressed in skimpy pink clothes like a slutty princess, her panties wet from where she had pissed herself in front of her parents.  She tried to explain the *disgust* she had seen in her parents’ faces when she had tried to get them to call her a cunt, but Lachlan wasn’t interested.  He simply pulled off her panties, gagged her with them, ripped off the rest of her clothes, and went to work trying to impregnate her.

 

He fucked her four times that night.  He hoped that he might have actually knocked her up - he would love her to remember *this* night, of all nights, as the night that her baby had been conceived.  He didn’t use her name once, and he even avoided calling her Kitten, doing his best to treat her like a nameless object.

 

Sarah’s mind was clearly breaking - the surrenders, the endless parade of new ideas he was forcing her to believe, the objectification, the rape, the humiliation - all of it was overloading her ability to think rationally, to have control of her own life, to do anything other than masturbate to her own abuse as Lachlan transformed her into a helpless degraded sex toy.

 

And in the early hours of the morning, he began listing her further violations of the Code of Conduct.

 

“Lack of personal hygiene in the office, due to having cum on your face all day.  Refusing to answer to your proper name in the office.  Telling an employee bringing an HR complaint that she deserved to be raped.  Sucking a co-worker’s cock in the office corridor.  What are you going to surrender now, Sarah?”

 

She only had four options left.  Her heart, her opinions, her intelligence and her willpower.

 

None of them were good answers.  She was done.  She had lost.  They were going through the final minutes of her life as a free-thinking woman who was anything but a sex-robot under Lachlan’s control.

 

He expected her to offer her heart, or her opinions.

 

But Sarah was tired of thinking. She was tired of knowing what a stupid slut she had been to let this happen to her.  She was tired of understanding how she was betraying her gender and her beliefs with every word she spoke and every action she took.

 

“My intelligence,” she said.  “I surrender my intelligence, sir.”

 

===

 

The magic of the hypnotic Securo-System was that Lachlan didn’t actually have to choose between making Sarah “stupid” or “smart”.  He could actually be very selective about her intellectual capacity.

 

He didn’t want to make her completely helpless, because that would be irritating and place a lot of responsibility on him.  She could find her way from home to the office by herself, for example.  She could dress herself and put on make-up.

 

But he told her that she could no longer work out how to put on a bra without male help.  He told her that she couldn’t open food or drink packets without male help.  

 

Likewise, he let her understand some fairly complex ideas.  She could still turn on a computer and operate it.  She still could actually read most books.  But when she encountered certain kinds of idea, her brain would immediately tell her she was too stupid to understand them and she shouldn’t try.

 

Any idea which suggested that women were anything but sub-human fucktoys, for example.  She would simply stare at words like “feminism”, her mind blank, and feel stupid, and giggle.  

 

He told her that she was too stupid to have any kind of disagreement with a man.  If a man told her something, then inevitably anything she said to question it or disagree with it would be nothing but the incoherent babblings of a child, and she shouldn’t try.  She should simply believe and accept anything that men told her without question.

 

He even convinced her that she literally didn’t have a brain - that her thoughts came from her pussy and her tits, and that if she needed to think about something then she should squeeze her tits and finger her cunt to help them to process.

 

He gave her access to the idea of Basic English, a simplified version of English that uses only 850 words, and told her that over time she would reduce her vocabulary to only those words - although the version he gave her had a few additional colourful words for describing anatomy and sexual behaviour, for his own amusement more than anything.

 

At this point, of course, the Sarah Rose who had first stepped into the Securo-System was basically gone.  What had replaced her was a brainless cum-receptacle.  

 

But one part of her intelligence he kept intact - the very part she had most wanted to lose.  He told her that part of her brain was still processing everything that was happening to her with the full force of her former intellect - entirely for the purpose of feeling shame, guilt, humiliation and degradation.  He wanted her to keep experiencing her abuse, even as she became a brainless fuckdoll.

 

Under these new conditions, Sarah simply stopped doing her job.  Instead of trying to answer the confusing and complicated emails in her inbox, she just sat on the floor in the part of her office that had the kid’s table and the crayons, and drew crude pictures in bright colours depicting big-titted women kneeling at the feet of men or being fucked.  Sometimes she would cry, and when she did, she would masturbate.

 

Several times a day an employee or group of employees would come into her office to fuck her face, or masturbate over her, or just generally rape her.  And three times a day - morning, lunch and after work - Lachlan would fuck her and ejaculate into her unprotected womb.

 

Lachlan knew the end was coming for Sarah.  Her final surrender was approaching - and, at about the same time, the Minister’s plan to transfigure society would come to fruition.

 

So he organised one final outing for Sarah - something for her to remember, and to mark her final transition.  

 

A very special departmental retreat…

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)