Sarah was already starting to cry when Lachlan walked into her office in the morning.  She didn’t know what she had done wrong, but she knew from the look in her eyes that she had done *something*, and that it meant that she would be surrendering another part of her identity.

 

“For fuck’s sake, get a tissue, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “Crying at work is unprofessional.  Do you want people to think you’re more of a cunt than they already do?”

 

Her face twisted in a look of anger.  If she had used language like that towards Lachlan, she would have been disciplined for a breach of the code of conduct - but apparently if Lachlan called her a “cunt”, he could get away with it.  But there was nothing she could do about it, so she got a tissue, and dabbed her eyes, and tried not to sob.

 

Lachlan could see it was hard, though.  He knew she had started the day by eating a handful of dry cat food, naked and on all fours, out of a pet bowl.  It wouldn’t have satisfied her, and she would be dealing with the realisation that by the time lunch came, and she was obliged to fuck her pussy with a cucumber, she would genuinely be hungry to eat the cunt-flavoured vegetable when she was done.

 

But she was doing her best.  “What have I done wrong?” she asked, flatly.  “How did I mess up this time?”

 

Lachlan enjoyed Sarah’s recognition that “doing things wrong” and “messing up” was a thing that she did now, and that Lachlan was the arbiter and authority of her behaviour.  

 

“Last night you sent me a pornographic video,” he told her.  “Of you naked, on all fours.  That’s completely inappropriate, Sarah.”

 

Her expression was one of disbelief.  “You TOLD me to!” she exploded.  “You MADE me!”

 

His face went cold.  “Do NOT raise your voice to me, Sarah Rose,” he hissed.  “Not unless you want to surrender even more than you’re about to.”

 

She was fuming, wild-eyed.  She clearly wanted to scream, or hit him, or throw something.  And yet, she wasn’t going to.  She was scared to.  And Lachlan loved that most of all.  

 

He gave her a moment to deal with her emotions, loving any second of her impotent powerlessness.

 

Finally, she got control of herself enough to speak in a quiet, semi-respectful voice.

 

“It’s not fair,” she said.  “I had to.  I didn’t have a choice.  You can’t discipline me for breaking the code of conduct by forcing me to break the code of conduct.”

 

“I told you to send me a video of you eating your dinner,” Lachlan told her.  “How you cropped it was up to you.  Arranging the video so that I could see your slutty whore udders was entirely your choice, Sarah - and it’s a choice you need to be disciplined for.  You can’t just go around sending nude videos of yourself to co-workers.”

 

Her arms twitched.  Lachlan almost flinched - she really looked like she was going to punch him.  

 

But she controlled herself.  “This isn’t fair,” she said again.  But that was fine, because it contained an implicit admission that it was happening anyway, and that Lachlan had the power to do unfair things to her.

 

“It’s clear that being a whore is something of a problem with you, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “And it’s not a problem we’re going to solve easily.  So after this, I’m going to give you a pass on any further sexual disclosures you need to make to me, whether in writing, or as images.  We’ll call it a kind of… behaviour management plan.  But you *will* need to be disciplined for this first breach.  And you know what that means.”

 

The anger suddenly drained out of Sarah, replaced by defeat and despair.  She looked almost childlike in her vulnerability.  “I have to surrender something,” she said.

 

“That’s right,” said Lachlan.  “You have to surrender something.  What will it be, Sarah?”

 

There were no good choices left on the list of things to surrender.  There was nothing left that wouldn’t fundamentally change her identity, or have permanent consequences for her.  

 

“Please…” she whimpered.  She sounded pathetic.

 

“You’re going to have to choose, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “You know that.  It’s your own fault for being a slut.  And you know I can’t stop this from happening to you.  You’re going to do it anyway.”

 

“But… you could be nice, once I surrender it to you,” said Sarah.  “You don’t have to be cruel.  Please.”

 

“The first step is to surrender it, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “And then we’ll decide how it should best be managed.”

 

The hypnotic programming had her in a vice grip.  Lachlan was right.  She *did* have to choose.  She couldn’t put it off.  Would she give up control of her bladder - and learn to wet herself at the office?  Would she give up control of her possessions - so that Lachlan could send everything she owned to the trash heap and leave her poor and vulnerable?  Or would she just cut to the chase and surrender her willpower - making everything else irrelevant, and making her his slave forever?

 

She chose none of them.  “My vocabulary,” she said, in a trembling voice.  “I surrender my vocabulary.”  And then, immediately, in a desperate voice, she added.  “Please!  Please be kind to me.”

 

“Why should I be kind to a rule-breaking embezzling slut like you, Sarah?” he asked her.

 

“Because…” - and then she paused, looking at him warily.  “No,” she said.  “If I offer you something, you’re going to say that’s unethical, and make me surrender something else as well.”

 

Apparently she was learning.  He sighed, and waved a hand.  “Fine,” he said.  “This is just between us.  You can offer whatever you want, and we’ll say it’s hypothetical.  I promise there’ll be no discipline for either your offer, or any action you take on that offer.”

 

She put on her best flirting face - and honestly, it was pretty hot.  Made hotter, of course, by the fact that Lachlan knew that Sarah hated him, and was being forced to try and seduce him anyway.

 

“I could give you a blowjob,” she said, in a cute little voice.  “With a condom on, of course.  After all, I need some…. stuff… for my dinner tonight.”

 

What a selfish bitch, thought Lachlan.  Even desperate, powerless and humiliated, her mind was still focused on getting something that *she* needed.

 

“Okay, first change to your vocabulary,” said Lachlan.  “You call me ‘sir’.  Doesn’t matter if we’re alone or in public.  Try it again.”

 

“I could give you a blowjob, sir,” said Sarah - and there was a surprised expression on her face as she found her mind *forcing* her to add that “sir” at the end.

 

“Good girl,” said Lachlan.  “All right.  Let’s do this.”

 

He moved to close the blinds on Sarah’s office window, shutting them off from the world.  He took out his wallet from his pocket, and extracted a condom from it.  Then he unzipped his pants, took out his erect cock, and rolled the condom down over first the tip and then the length of it.

 

Sarah was taken aback by the speed of his acquiescence - but she was also pleased to have gotten what she wanted so easily.  She jumped from her office chair, hurried over to him, and knelt in front of him.  She gazed up at him, and the sight of her made his cock twitch in appreciation.  She looked divine in her attractive gray office blouse (which showed a tempting expanse of cleavage in this position), and her big soft eyes eager to please him.

 

And when she opened her mouth and took his cock between her lips, he couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure, even with the sensation softened through the medium of the condom.

 

Only a month ago, the idea of Sarah Rose sucking his cock had been nothing but a fantasy to Lachlan - but now here she was, eager to please, desperate to secure his mercy.  He was fucking her face, right here in her own office, and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

The eroticism of it was overwhelming, and he felt himself quickly nearing orgasm.  

 

But he had no intention of cumming into a condom for Sarah to take home and eat at dinner time.  She didn’t deserve anything quite so easy.

 

As he approached his climax, he suddenly pulled out of Sarah’s mouth.  He pulled the wet condom off his cock, dropping it into Sarah’s cleavage, and then pumped his cock swiftly with his hand.  After only a few pumps, he was cumming - spurting semen all over Sarah’s face.  He made sure to get some in her hair, and also aimed low to leave several large spurts on her tits and her blouse.  

 

Sarah recoiled in horror, raising her hands too late to protect herself.  The sight of her disgust was so funny that Lachlan gave an involuntary chuckle.  He took out his phone and took a picture.  The image of queen bitch Sarah Rose with her face splattered with his cum deserved to be preserved for posterity.

 

“What the fuck?” spluttered Sarah.

 

“Say thank you,” said Lachlan.

 

Sarah had no intention of saying any such thing - except that Lachlan controlled her vocabulary now, and he had told her to say something.  Her mind gave her no choice.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she heard herself say.

 

“You’re welcome, cunt,” said Lachlan.  “And if you’re wondering why I did this, it’s because you’re a bitch.  I gave you an invitation to give me something I wanted in exchange for my mercy, and instead you came up with a plan to get your dinner.  If you expect to get something from me in future, I expect you to focus on *my* needs and *my* entertainment - understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” whimpered Sarah.  She was starting to cry again.  She clearly wanted to clean the cum from her face, but his cold tone left her afraid to break eye contact.

 

“Nevertheless, I will show you mercy,” he said.  “Instead of a wholesale restructure of your vocabulary, we will take it slowly, and introduce changes one by one.  I’ll have your first major change for you later today.  Send me a message when you’re eating lunch, and we’ll discuss it then.”  

 

He tucked his cock back into his pants.  “Now clean yourself up,” he told her.  “You look disgusting.”

 

===

 

He saw Sarah a few times over the course of the morning, doing her normal errands around the office.  She had cleaned the sperm from her face, but there were still white stains on the front of her blouse she had been unable to treat, and, to his amusement, there was a visible gob of cum in her hair that she hadn’t noticed.  None of it was likely to attract attention from someone who wasn’t looking for it, but he loved seeing her with visible proof of her degradation in the workplace environment.

 

At a quarter to one, he received a message in his inbox.

 

“I’m about to have lunch, sir.”

 

He arrived in Sarah’s office soon after, and the deep crimson blush in her cheeks was enough to bring a smile to her face.

 

She had already closed the blinds, and once he closed the door they had privacy.

 

“You wanted to talk to me, sir” said Sarah, bluntly.

 

“You were going to eat lunch,” said Lachlan.  “Go ahead.”

 

Her blush deepened.  She didn’t want to do this.

 

“I can wait all day,” said Lachlan.

 

“Fine,” said Sarah, her face red, her eyes averted from his face.  She stood, reached under her skirt, and tugged her panties down her legs, until they fell around her ankles.  She stepped out of them, and placed them on her desk.  Then she opened the desk drawer and took out a large cucumber.

 

“Make sure to give me a good view,” smirked Lachlan.

 

Sarah sat in her office chair - and sulked a moment, trying to think of a way to avoid this humiliation.  But there was none.  Her hypnotic programming was powerful, and Lachlan’s instructions were clear.  Slowly, she spread her legs, and pulled her skirt up to her waist, giving Lachlan a clear view of her shaved pussy.  

 

“Go ahead,” said Lachlan.

 

Her lips pressed together in anger and humiliation, Sarah pressed the tip of the cucumber against her pussy lips, and pushed.  The thick green vegetable slid easily into her lubricated cunt, and Sarah gave a little gasp.  Then she began to slowly fuck herself with it.

 

“Good girl,” said Lachlan.  “Now, let’s talk about your vocabulary.”

 

“You were going to be merciful, sir,” Sarah reminded him.

 

“I will be,” said Lachlan.  “Clearly I could restructure your entire understanding of the English language into something more appropriate for a bimbo like you, so that you can barely string a sentence together and no one will ever again believe you have more than three braincells in your empty little bimbo head.  But I’m going to be merciful, so today we’ll just discuss a single word.”

 

Sarah whimpered.  She still had so many things on her list to surrender - and yet Lachlan already had the power to destroy her life, if he so chose.  And she had to sit here and fuck her cunt with a vegetable while she listened to him.

 

“The word we’re going to talk about is ‘breasts’,” said Lachlan.  “And it’s a word that you’re not going to say again - ever.  Women don’t have breasts.  They have udders, or fuckbags, or rape-handles, or slut-balloons.  You are never again going to describe breasts by any word that might be deemed respectful or appropriate in an office.  You can’t say ‘bosom’ or ‘mammaries’.  You can’t even say ‘tits’ or ‘boobs’.  Do you understand?”

 

Sarah’s eyes were wide with horror - even as she continued to masturbate with the cucumber.  

 

“No!” she protested.  “We’re currently doing a public awareness campaign for…”  Her face reddened, and now it wasn’t just with embarrassment, but with effort.  She was trying to say a word, but her brain would no longer let her.

 

Finally, it came out.  “Fuckbag cancer,” she said.  “Ugh, no!  I can’t say ‘fuckbag cancer’.  I can’t tell women to get their slut-balloons checked.  I’m going to get fired, sir!”

 

“That feels like a problem for you,” said Lachlan.  “Allegedly, you’re a smart, savvy executive, Sarah.  You’ll work it out.  And I expect you to demonstrate a wide and diverse vocabulary, Sarah.  Come up with lots of appropriate names for your udders.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Sarah, with an expression which made it clear that what she *wanted* to say was, “Fuck you.”

 

“And one last thing, Sarah,” said Lachlan.  “When you’re describing your *own* udders, you will always use a demeaning adjective.  So they’re not your fuckbags, they’re your *whorish* fuckbags.  They’re not your milk-sacks, they’re your *oversized* milk-sacks.  Understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” pouted Sarah.  She was breathing heavily now from the stimulation of her pussy.

 

“Let’s try it out, shall we?” asked Lachlan.  “Tell me why you like having men cum on your udders.”

 

“But I don’t like that, sir,” protested Sarah.

 

“Do I look like I give a shit?” replied Lachlan.  “Just do it, or we’ll move on to fixing another word in your vocabulary.”

 

“Uh…” said Sarah, trying to come up with something.  “I like it when men cum on my giant whore-melons, because it feels so good to have my slutty bitch-lumps shiny and sticky with wet sperm.  I think my ridiculous chest decorations look pretty when they have cum on them, and I know it pleases men to splatter their semen all over my giant cow udders…”

 

Suddenly she stopped, and moaned, and pulled the cucumber from her cunt.  Her next words were muffled because she was stuffing the cucumber into her mouth, simultaneously licking and chewing on it, desperate to eat the cunt-flavoured vegetable.

 

Her instructions from Lachlan had been to masturbate to the edge of orgasm with the cucumber.  She was eating it so suddenly because she had been about to cum - about to cum from degrading her own breasts in front of Lachlan.

 

“Good girl,” whispered Lachlan.  He stood, and took out his cock again, and rolled a fresh condom down over the tip.  “I think you’re learning your new vocabulary very well.  And as a reward, I’m going to let you come earn your dinner…”

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)