Chapter Three

The break room door swung inward with a soft push, and Emma stepped inside on those unforgiving locked boots, each movement forcing her weight forward onto the balls of her feet. She had just finished struggling through another training session, during which she had to assert her dominance whilst unable to speak and teetering on the most extreme footwear. She wore a black rubber catsuit with cutouts for her breasts, the rest of the outfit covering her torso, crotch, ass, arms, and legs. However, a unique feature of this catsuit made the material increasingly transparent as it heated. Emma’s natural body heat throughout the morning had turned the formerly opaque attire into a completely transparent garment, showing off the slave trainer’s entire body, including the two black plugs that had been filling her lower orifices since she started her shift. The new uniform policy dictating that she must wear company-issued attire, as directed by her nominated handlers, was wearing on the young brunette, and she tottered into the room with a furious expression in her eyes.

Gareth Olsen sat at the table with his legs stretched out in front of him, tearing into a thick sandwich piled high with roast beef and melted cheese. His colleague, Luke Daniels, sat further along the long table, sipping a bottle of soda while he scrolled through his phone. Both men glanced up as she entered, and their expressions shifted into matching smirks that lingered on the way the transparent latex revealed every inch of their boss’s skin.

Gareth took a slow bite, letting the juices from the beef drip onto the wrapper as he chewed with deliberate enjoyment. “You look like you could use a break, boss,” he said, his voice carrying a familiar hint of mockery. “All that hard work must have you starving.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and turned her head away as she headed to an empty spot at the table, far away from them. She didn’t want to be anywhere near those bafoons, but needed to find somewhere to rest her feet before the afternoon’s activities. The large black ball gag from the Smartgag ensured she complied with the company’s new rule of female employees being gagged at work at all times. It stretched her jaw and turned any attempt at speech into useless, wet sounds. The young slave trainer was also aware that she couldn’t eat or drink while the gag was locked in place, which was likely why Gareth was taunting her with his tasty sandwich.

Her confident subordinate set his sandwich down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as his gaze slowly traveled over the transparent latex that left nothing to the imagination. His choice in today’s attire was pure genius, he thought to himself.

After a moment of the woman ignoring her colleagues, Gareth lazily stood up, taking his sandwich with him. He planted himself on the chair directly beside her, edging it even closer to ensure he was uncomfortably close to the gagged employee. He glanced down at the woman’s locked heels and smirked. “My, those must really be uncomfortable to wear all day, every day,” his comment sparked a stifled laugh from Luke.

“Here,” he continued. “Have a bite.” Gareth lifted his sandwich and pushed it against the woman’s gag and lips, eliciting a furious grunt from the humiliated woman. “That’s a shame. The gag is blocking it, but we can’t let you starve.”

Gareth pulled the sandwich away and took another large bite himself, chewing slowly directly in the gagged woman’s face. Emma bit against the large gag with fury and slapped her subordinate across the face. He may have control of her attire, but she was still in charge around here.

The man rubbed his cheek slowly, a red mark from her palm blooming beneath his fingers, yet the sting only widened his grin into something more dangerous. He let the silence stretch for a moment, his eyes locked on hers while the taste of beef lingered on his tongue. “You know, luckily, the company created a way to keep its gagged slaves fed,” he said conversationally. “We can’t have you working all afternoon on an empty stomach.”

Gareth tapped his control watch with an eerie calmness, and the device beneath Emma’s tongue hummed to life once more. The wide black ball shrank away in moments, before being replaced by a wide metal O-ring, locking the brunette’s jaw open in a perfect, vulnerable circle. However, this was no ordinary ring gag. A cool metal arm from the bottom of the ring extended inside Emma’s mouth, angled downward to ensure it compressed against the bottom of her mouth and kept her tongue out of the way. The center of the ring contained a small twisting connector, currently unattached to whatever its purpose was. Emma bit against the metal exterior of the uncomfortable gag, but stopped when she felt her resistance push the plate on her tongue down even further.

The man stood up from his chair and crossed the room to a tall wall-mounted cupboard. He opened it with a casual tug and reached inside, pulling out a hard, transparent plastic bottle filled with thick brown slush that swirled lazily as he gave it a light shake.

Emma’s eyes widened the instant she recognized the device, and she shook her head wildly in protest. “Aghh unghhh!” she gurgled out with her forced-open mouth, her garbled protests spilling out.

Gareth returned to her side in slow strides, enjoying the anxiousness in his brunette boss’s eyes. He knelt and cupped her chin firmly with one hand, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze, his thumb tracing the edge of her lower lip where it stretched around the ring.

“I can tell you know exactly what this is,” he murmured gleefully. “And from now on, this is how you’re going to eat whenever you’re at work.” With deliberate care, Gareth aligned the threaded end of the bottle with the connector protruding from her gag and screwed it on tight, the click echoing softly as it locked into place.

The device was a feeder attachment explicitly designed for the SmartGag’s O-ring feeder configuration. This clear plastic reservoir forced the nutritious contents directly into the wearer’s mouth at a controlled pace. The feeder attachments were available in many flavors, and catered to every nutritional requirement, but the one Gareth picked out was not known for its rich, favorable taste. The brown mush inside carried a heavy, savory flavor deliberately formulated to mimic cheap canned dog food, thick enough to coat the tongue and throat with every forced swallow.

A soft mechanical hum started from the bottle as the feeder activated, and the thick slush began to pump steadily into Emma’s waiting mouth in slow, deliberate pulses. She brought her hands up to the attachment and attempted to unscrew it, but a safety feature would ensure the bottle was locked in place until it had been completely emptied.

The first wave of the mush hit Emma’s tongue like a thick, salty paste, the flavor exploding across her senses in a way that made her stomach churn. It carried the unmistakable tang of low-grade meat mixed with greasy fillers, clinging to every surface of her mouth as she instinctively swallowed to avoid choking.

Gareth settled back into his chair, picking up his sandwich again and taking another satisfied bite. He watched her throat work with each forced gulp, the transparent latex letting him see the subtle shift of the plugs inside her as her body reacted to the humiliation and foul taste.

“See how easy that is,” he said, his voice casual as he chewed. “No fuss, no mess, and you get everything you need. We don’t need to risk ungagging you and receiving a warning for not following company procedure anymore.”

Emma’s hand dropped to her lap, her fingers curling into fists while another pulse filled her mouth, and there was nothing she could do about it. The mush coated her tongue more this time, the dog-food taste lingering no matter how she swallowed, prompting a gentle gag. Her eyes burned with rage, but the feeder showed no mercy, pumping steadily as if determined to empty every last bit.

Luke casually set his soda down and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the way her exposed tits rose as she panicked. He grinned, clearly enjoying the show. “You should thank Gareth for thinking of your nutrition, ma’am,” he said teasingly. “Being put in charge of someone like this is a stressful job. Most handlers wouldn’t bother keeping you fed.”

The bottle gurgled softly as it pushed another thick load past her lips. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to gag as the flavor overwhelmed her again. When she reopened them, Gareth was still watching, his expression one of pure enjoyment.

Luke chuckled as he enjoyed the show, before glancing down at his phone as it buzzed. An automatic entry was placed on his calendar. “Ohh, look here. It looks like we’ve got something interesting coming up,” he said to Gareth. Gareth glanced down at his own phone, reading the synchronized invite. “There’s an extended board meeting this afternoon. All board members and department heads are required to attend.”

Gareth raised an eyebrow as he began reading for himself. “Why are we invited? We’re neither of those things.”

Luke chuckled as he finished reading. “Take a look at the bottom. The invitation extends to all handlers of female department heads.” He softly licked his lips as he watched the very last remnants of the tube empty into Emma’s mouth. “Emma here is the Chief Trainer, and we’re her handler. I guess we’re invited, too.”

“Well, would you look at that,” Gareth smiled widely as he glanced at Emma. “It looks like we’ve got a very important meeting to prepare for.”

The feeder gave one final push, emptying the last of the thick mush past her lips. Emma swallowed hard, her throat working visibly to down the contents with a humiliating gulp. Gareth reached forward and twisted the empty tube free with a soft click before tossing it on the table.

He tapped his watch again, and the feeder connector retracted, the O-ring transforming back into the familiar large black ball that had filled her mouth earlier, the straps snapping tight around her head.

Gareth patted the furious woman’s cheek lightly. “Better get moving, boss,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve got a board meeting to attend. I know you can’t wait for all those powerful men to see you like this.”

Luke stood and stretched, already heading for the door. “I’ll see you both at 2. We’ll head up together.” The door swung shut behind him, and Gareth followed his friend out, leaving Emma alone in the break room with the taste of dog food on her tongue and the massive gag stretching her jaw painfully wide. She sat there for a long moment, breathing hard through her nose as she tried to calm herself down and prevent the plugs from moving inside her. Surely they didn’t expect the top slave trainer in the company to address the board like this. There had to be a mistake, but there was only one way for Emma to find out.

❖

Gareth held Emma’s upper arm in a firm grip and guided her through the spacious corridor into the executive board room, his fingers pressing just hard enough against her skin to remind her who controlled her pace. Luke followed close behind, his eyes drawn to the sway of her ass beneath the transparent latex as it moved side to side with every forced mincing step in her ballet boots.

The large room appeared unusually busy and cramped despite its generous size, with dozens of board members and supervisors crammed around a long glass table and along the walls in extra chairs brought in for the occasion. Suits filled every available space, shoulders brushing as men shifted to make room, the air thick with the low murmur of conversation as they all waited for the meeting to start.

The chatter dropped to a sudden hush the instant Emma tottered into the room, dozens of eyes turning toward her with open curiosity and approval. The room felt even smaller under that collective gaze, the heat of so many bodies making her sweat, the transparent suit clinging tighter to her skin while her bare breasts drew stares from every direction. Emma had previously clashed heads with at least ten men in this room, and now she stood, gagged and on display for their amusement.

Emma felt the weight of every stare pressing against her exposed body, the latex leaving her plugs visible and her breasts entirely on offer. She was practically the only woman in the room, surrounded by a sea of suited men who now watched her with undisguised interest. Her cheeks burned above the gag. Still, she forced her chin higher, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny.

Her gaze swept the table until her eyes landed on the blonde near the head of the table. Mia Kayle, CuffTech’s Assistant HR Director, sat beside Oscar Payne, the HR Director and Mia’s boss. Mia’s arms were locked behind her in a tight red armbinder that matched the color of her short latex dress, the fabric clinging to her curves while a bright red ball gag stretched her lips wide. The blonde assistant HR director was the daughter of a prominent banker in the city, but even his influence couldn’t shield her from the company’s new uniform policy. The blonde’s eyes met Emma’s for a brief moment, a flicker of shared humiliation passing between them before Mia looked away.

The only other women in the room were the four slave secretaries who knelt between their Masters’ legs, naked, gagged, and collared. These women were already slaves before the new policy came into force, meaning the new mandate had little effect on them.

Carlos Mendez, the new Director of Slave Improvement, Emma’s boss, and the man who first forcibly implemented the uniform policy on the young woman, spotted the trio near the door and waved them over with an enthusiastic gesture, his bright floral shirt standing out among the dark suits.

Gareth steered Emma forward without loosening his grip, carefully guiding her between the crowded chairs until they reached Carlos. The director stood and greeted Gareth with a firm handshake, his other hand immediately sliding to Emma’s bare breasts, his fingers kneading the soft flesh openly as if it were the most natural thing, eliciting a grunt from the gagged woman.

“Perfect timing,” Carlos said, extending a hand to Luke as well before giving Emma’s nipple a casual twist and gesturing to the two vacant seats beside him. “I saved you some seats, although space is at a premium. You’ll just have to sit on my lap, Ms. Duke.” Carlos sat back in his own chair and tugged at the gagged brunette’s arm without warning, prompting her to lose balance on her extreme heels and fall directly onto his lap with a thud. “Eager, aren’t you?” he mocked her before looking up to the head of the table. “The meeting’s about the start.”

Kyle Francis, CuffTech’s CEO, rose from his seat at the head of the table, his presence commanding immediate attention as the last whispers faded completely. He adjusted his cufflinks with care before addressing the room, his voice smooth and authoritative.

“Good afternoon, and thank you all for making time for this extended session at such short notice,” he began, his eyes sweeping across the crowded table. “We have significant updates to share regarding our product strategy and future direction. I am a big believer in us all singing from the same hymn sheet, so I wanted to address as many of you at once as possible.”

The CEO clicked a remote in his hand, and a large projection appeared on the wall behind him, showing color-coded charts highlighting the company’s performance over the past year.

“Our research and development team has delivered exceptional results in recent months,” he continued confidently. “We plan to expand our most popular offerings while scaling back on items that have not met our expectations.”

He paused for a moment, letting the words settle before moving to the next slide, which showed the SmartGag line in bold green with a sharp upward trajectory. “The SmartGag has demonstrated extreme popularity in both testing phases and closed trials,” he said, his gaze briefly landing on Emma before moving to Mia with a knowing grin. “Its effectiveness is being proven right here without our own company, and the data supports full commitment to this product.”

Several men around the table nodded in agreement, a few casting appreciative glances toward the gagged women present.

Kyle advanced to another slide, this one focused on upcoming updates to the SmartGag. “The great thing about this technology is the constant updates to improve the product and rid ourselves of any unwanted bugs. Take tonight, for example. The activated SmartGags will remotely connect to our update server and automatically install a major patch that introduces paired gag usage, allowing you to program several gags to work together, and the bespoke training function, which permits you to use generative AI to create bespoke training programs and rules. It’s all exciting stuff.”

The CEO clicked forward again, the slide shifting to a sleek render of a collar device gleaming against a black background. “We are also fast-tracking the companion model,” he announced, his tone carrying a sense of pride. “The SmartCollar is already in alpha trials, and the early results are nothing short of revolutionary. This device will integrate seamlessly with the SmartGag ecosystem, and while I can’t leak its core features just yet, believe me when I tell you that this device will be a game changer.”

Carlos gave Emma’s breast another possessive squeeze, his thumb circling her nipple slowly. She tried to edge away from him, but the large Latina kept his grip strong.

“Our goal is simple,” the CEO continued. “By next Christmas, every household in the country will have access to at least one SmartGag unit, and potentially the SmartCollar too. These products will not only drive revenue but reinforce the standards we all believe in.”

The room filled with murmurs of approval, several executives exchanging glances while their eyes drifted back to the gagged women, including Emma perched on Carlos’s lap.

Kyle clicked to a final slide highlighting the upcoming challenges. “We have secured unprecedented support for our future launches,” he told the packed room. “However, stricter legislation has meant that approval won’t be granted until the product has been rigorously tested. A small loophole in the legislation allows us to fast-track the process by nominating a respected ‘Product Tester’ who will happily test our R&D inventions when required and provide feedback on their use. This will allow us to cut six months off our release timeline.” The CEO smiled widely as he scanned the room. “Now, do we have a volunteer who will take up this valued position in addition to their current role?”

A brief silence settled over the table, broken only by the soft, muffled sounds from the gagged secretaries kneeling beneath it. Emma felt Carlos’s hand tighten on her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple harder, eliciting an unintended high-pitched squeal in pain. Everyone turned their attention to the couple.

“I think my fiercest Chief Trainer has just volunteered herself, Mr. Francis,” Carlos grinned as he looked over at the CEO. “That was some enthusiastic squeal, which is as close to a confirmation as we can get since she’s gagged.” He absently rubbed her bare breast. “Gareth and Kyle beside me have done a wonderful job in handling her since the introduction of your uniform policy, sir, and they would love the opportunity to help Emma test whatever new products you have in the works, isn’t that right, boys?”

Gareth leaned forward with an eager nod, his hand sliding to rest on his boss’s latexed thigh. “We would be honored to assist with the role,” he said smoothly, giving her thigh a light squeeze that made her body tense against Carlos’s lap. “Emma had already shown remarkable adaptability to the current products. I’m confident she’ll provide invaluable feedback on whatever new inventions you guys come up with.” Luke nodded his head in silent agreement.

Kyle Francis regarded the group for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before a faint smile curved his lips. “Excellent,” he said, his tone decisive. “Then it’s settled. Ms. Duke will serve as our primary Product Tester for the upcoming SmartCollar alpha and any future R&D creations. Those two young men will continue as her primary handlers to ensure consistent data collection.” He said, not knowing Gareth and Luke’s names.

A ripple of approving chuckles spread across the table, several executives raising eyebrows or exchanging glances while their attention lingered on Emma’s exposed form perched uncomfortably between the two men. To them, she had always been the fierce bitch who was an invaluable asset to the company, and who was eternally protected by the former CEO. She looked nothing like that these days.

Carlos gave the woman’s breast one final appreciative pat before releasing it, his hand settling instead on her waist to hold her steady. “You should feel proud,” he whispered near her ear, loud enough for Gareth to hear. “You’re going to help shape the future of this company.”

“Mmphhh!” Emma’s angry muffled protest came out as a strained whimper, her body rigid with barely contained rage as she was forced deeper into degradation. She was a free woman, and she shouldn’t have to put up with this.

Kyle clicked off the projection and addressed the room once more. “With that decided, we’ll move to distribution timelines and marketing strategies,” he said, retaking his seat. “But first, let’s give our new Product Tester a round of applause for her commitment.”

The space erupted in polite but enthusiastic clapping, the sound filling the space while dozens of eyes fixed on the practically naked Emma. She sat frozen on Carlos’s lap, the large black ball gag swallowing any sound she tried to make, her skin burning under their gaze as she processed what she had just gotten herself into.

❖

Towards the end of the day, Emma sat behind the narrow desk in her small office, the large gag still stretching her mouth wide while the transparent latex clung to her body. The plugs inside her remained a quiet but constant pressure, shifting faintly whenever she moved in the chair. She stared at her computer screen without seeing it, her mind replaying the board meeting in furious loops, the applause and Kyle’s calm announcement ringing in her ears.

The door opened without a knock, and Gareth stepped inside, closing it behind him. He carried a casual confidence that made the chief slave trainer’s blood heat instantly, the man’s eyes traveling over her exposed tits before settling on her gagged face.

“So,” he said, leaning against the wall beside her desk, “what did you think of the meeting? Pretty eventful, right?”

Emma shot to her ballet-heeled feet, the chair rolling back as she leaned forward over the desk, her hands planted firmly on the surface. “Whag thh fck wff thg Grrth?” she garbled furiously, the words mangled around the plastic gag into wet, incoherent sounds. “Yuu bsthrgh, yuu ltht mmm hngmph!”

Her subordinate tilted his short, brown-haired head, his expression one of exaggerated confusion. “Sorry,” he said, cupping a hand behind his ear. “I didn’t catch a single word of that. Could you repeat yourself?”

Emma groaned deep in her throat as frustration boiled over. She knew the asshole was messing with her, but she was determined to put her point across. She straightened and tried again, slower this time, forcing the words out with deliberate emphasis. “Yuu rr trah-trr,” she managed, spittle gathering at the corners of her stretched lips as she pushed on. “Yuu dnmpnt ackf mmm upp!”

Gareth burst into laughter, the sound mocking as he watched his boss struggle with the gag. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the way her bare breasts jutted when she was speaking. “I really have no idea what you’re trying to say,” he told her with amusement. “You sound like you’re drowning or something.”

Emma’s chest heaved faster, her nipples tightening against the cool air while fury continued to burn in her eyes. She snatched a notepad from below her monitor and scribbled furiously, the pen digging hard into the paper. When she finished, she slapped the note onto the desk and shoved it toward him.

The man picked it up and held the yellow paper at arm’s length, squinting as if the handwriting were foreign.

“What the hell is your problem?” the note demanded in block capitals. “Why didn’t you back me up in the meeting when I was being volunteered as a fucking tester?”

Gareth turned the paper sideways, then upside down, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “Nope,” he said finally, setting the note back down. “Unfortunately, I can’t read written English. I still can’t make heads or tails of what you’re trying to say. You’re going to have to spit it out.”

The chief trainer let out a long, frustrated groan that turned into a muffled growl. She leaned over the desk again, trying once more to force coherent words past the gag. “Whh dghh yuuph lgh fmm ddd thagh?” she garbled desperately. “Yuu knwwgh I ddngh wngh thaghh!”

Gareth paused for a moment before shaking his head, his grin never fading. “Seriously, boss,” he said, “you’re going to have to work on your enunciation if you want anyone to take you seriously.”

Emma slammed her fist on the desk and sat back down in her chair, the impact making her breasts bounce while another angry sound escaped the gag.

Gareth pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Oh, before I forget,” he said, his tone shifting to casual business. “I got an update from HR just now. Your new role as official Product Tester starts Monday, and the department stresses that this will run concurrently with your current duties as Chief Slave Trainer.”

Emma’s eyes widened above the gag, her body going rigid as the words and her new reality sank in.

The man tucked the phone away and gave her shoulder a light, condescending pat before turning toward the door. “Remember, that gag will deactivate automatically at 5 PM,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning, boss.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Emma alone again with the taste of rage in her throat. She wanted to throttle that smug son of a bitch, but everything about her situation reminded the free woman just how little control she truly had left.

Emma stared at the closed door for a long moment, breathing hard through her nose while the gag kept her silent. The day had stripped away another layer of her authority, and Monday loomed with the promise of worse. She needed a way out, someone who understood the tech deeply enough to fight it.

The brunette’s hand moved to the top drawer almost on instinct, pulling out her phone. She opened a new message to a number she hadn’t thought about for years. She began to type.

‘I know we haven’t spoken in years, but I need to see you. Can we meet tomorrow night?’

Emma hit send before doubt could stop her, then set the phone face-down on the desk and waited, the gag stretching her mouth wide. With her father dead and her dad’s best friend no longer in charge of the company, she was on her own, and she needed to act soon. Hopefully, this text message was the start of things looking up, she thought to herself.

❖

That evening, Emma stepped through the private elevator doors into her Mom’s luxury penthouse apartment, where they parted with a soft chime, the familiar scent of jasmine greeting her in the hallway. She wore a loose band t-shirt that hung comfortably over her slim frame, paired with faded jeans and simple white sneakers, a deliberate choice for casual comfort after shedding the day’s humiliating uniform.

Emma’s mother, Vivian, stood waiting just beyond the threshold, her arms already open for an embrace. The older woman’s purple string bikini left almost nothing to the imagination, the thin straps barely containing her obviously enhanced curves, while matching platform heels lifted her posture alluringly. Emma hated seeing her mother dressed like that, but she caught herself thinking that she would kill for heels that modest at work these days. A delicate pink metal choker circled the auburn-haired woman’s neck, the item catching Emma’s eye in alarm.

The young woman hugged her mother briefly, the press of enhanced breasts against her own body making her pull back sooner than usual. “You’re wearing a bikini again,” she said, her voice edged with concern as her gaze dropped to the slutty garment her mother adorned before rising back to the choker. “And what is that thing around your neck? It looks like one of those starter collars the government issues to convicted females.”

Vivian absently touched the metal band lightly, her fingers tracing its smooth surface before she offered a small smile. “It’s just a necklace Gregory bought for me,” she replied softly, turning to lead the way deeper into the apartment, as if she was trying to avoid the topic. “Come into the living room. Everyone is relaxing in there.”

Emma followed her mother through the wide hallway, making a mental note not to let her mother dodge her questions any longer. When she had Vivian alone next, she would interrogate her parent to find out what was really going on here. The living room opened before them, the city lights glittering through the tall windows as Emma stepped into the bright space.

Gregory sat in his favorite armchair, an almost-empty beer bottle in one hand, while he scanned the newspaper spread across his lap. Tristan sprawled on the floor nearby, his attention fully occupied with Poppy.

Gregory’s ex-wife, now reduced to human puppy status, lay on her back in the pink latex bitchsuit that folded her arms uselessly. Her exposed tits rose with quick breaths while Tristan worked a thick beer bottle slowly in and out of her open pussy, the glass glistening with the puppy slave’s juices as the young man twisted it with casual indifference.

Gregory glanced up from his paper and folded it neatly, setting it aside. “There’s my favorite stepdaughter,” he said, his voice warm but laced with that familiar condescension Emma hated so much. “It’s always good to see you pop by. To what do we owe the pleasure tonight?”

Emma forced a tight smile and moved further into the room, her eyes avoiding the scene on the floor. “I just wanted to check on Mom,” she replied evenly. “We haven’t talked much since the other night.”

“She’s doing great, as you can see,” Gregory answered on his wife’s behalf, showing her a knowing grin. He gestured to the couch opposite him. “Take a seat,” he continued. “Make yourself comfortable.”

The patriarch of the household lifted his empty beer bottle toward Vivian without looking away from Emma. “Another one, darling,” he told his wife.

Vivian nodded and reached for the bottle, but Tristan perked his head up and spoke from the floor. “I’ll take that one, Dad,” he said with a grin.

Gregory handed the empty bottle down without comment. His son accepted it eagerly and shifted his position, pressing the neck of the second bottle against Poppy’s ass. The puppy slave whimpered louder as he pushed it inside alongside the one already buried in her vagina, working both with slow, firm motions.

Vivian turned and headed toward the kitchen to fetch a fresh beer, her heels carrying her away while the wet sounds from Poppy filled the brief silence.

Tristan eventually pushed himself up and dropped into the armchair beside his father, resting his feet casually on Poppy’s latex-covered belly, the bottles still wedged inside her orifices. The puppy slave panted softly beneath the weight of his feet, her body trembling from the dual intrusions. Tristan absently pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his messages, a low chuckle escaping him after a moment.

Gregory raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, boy?” he asked.

Tristan turned the screen toward his father, showing a series of photos clearly taken at the supposed private board meeting at CuffTech earlier. Emma appeared in each one, transparent latex revealing her entire body while she sat on Carlos’s lap, the large black ball gag stretching her mouth wide.

“One of my executive buddies was at the big meeting today,” Tristan said, glancing at Emma with amusement. “He snapped some great shots of the entertainment.”

He flashed his phone toward Emma, zooming in on one particular humiliating image where Carlos’s hand cupped her bare breast. “I think we know how Emma earned all those promotions now.”

Emma stared at the screen, her cheeks burning with humiliation and anger as she recognized the exact moment captured, the memory of Carlos’s fingers on her latex-clad skin still fresh. She clenched her fists at her side; she was furious. “Delete those. Now!” she demanded, her voice sharp and authoritative.

Tristan chuckled and leaned back further in his chair, his foot pressing harder against the puppy’s belly and drawing another muddled whine from the woman beneath him. “No, I don’t think I will,” he replied casually, scrolling through the following image with deliberate slowness. “These are amazing. I’m wondering which ones I’m going to have sent out to print.”

Gregory tapped his fingers on his lap, glancing at the door as he wondered why his wife was taking so long with his beer. He paused for a moment before speaking up, changing the subject before Emma lost her temper. “You know, Emma, we were talking about marriage the other night,” he said. “Have you given any more thought to what I said? It’s the only real way to secure your long-term freedom, especially if these work photos are anything to go by.”

Emma crossed her arms tighter over her chest, her posture stiffening as she met Gregory’s gaze. Why was he carrying on with this bullshit? She had made her position clear the last time he brought it up. “I have no interest in marriage, Gregory,” she replied firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “And I definitely have no interest in sexual relations with men currently.”

Tristan snorted from his chair, his foot shifting against Poppy’s belly as he looked at his stepsister. “Seriously? So you’re some kind of dyke or something?” he asked crudely, his voice thick with mockery.

The brunette woman’s eyes flashed with immediate anger, and she leaned forward on the couch. “No,” she snapped. “Shut your fucking mouth, and mind your own fucking business, you lazy piece of sh—”

The words cut off abruptly as the SmartGag activated beneath Emma’s tongue without warning. The young woman’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake, but it was too late to take her words back now. A thick black sphere swelled rapidly, forcing her jaw wide and sealing her mouth behind solid plastic. Straps snapped tight around her head, locking the massive ball in place, and her eyes remained wide with shock and fury.

Emma’s hands flew to the straps, clawing desperately at the tight restraints, but the gag held firm, turning her protest into a strained, muffled moan that echoed comically around the room.

Gregory and Tristan exchange quick glances before both men burst into deep, genuine laughter, the sound filling the space as Emma helplessly tried to remove the mouth invader.

Vivian returned from the kitchen at that exact moment, a fresh beer in hand for her husband. She paused in the doorway, confusion crossing her features as she took in the sight of her daughter suddenly gagged on the couch.

“What on earth is going on here?” she asked, looking between the laughing men as she handed Gregory his drink.

The older man accepted the bottle with a grin, wiping a tear from his eye as he caught his breath. “Nothing, darling,” the man said, pulling his wife onto his lap and gently squeezing her breast possessively. “Emma is just showing off a new accessory. You know how young women are these days.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and let out a furious, muffled grunt, her fingers still tugging uselessly at the straps while the two men continued laughing. Even away from work, her speech was being controlled. Something had to change.

❖

The following evening, Emma strolled into a quiet Midtown coffee shop, the warm glow of pendant lights casting soft shadows across the wooden tables. Men dominated the space, as most public areas did these days, and Emma noticed the subtle grin from some of the patrons as they spotted her bare neck. She hated being out in public like this, where every man looking for a slave thought he could claim her before she handed him her exemption license. She wore a simple navy blouse tucked into high-waisted black pants, the fabric loose enough to feel like armor after a day trapped in latex. The female barista took her order without a second glance and waited for her decaf almond latte, the rich scent of roasted beans filling the air as she scanned the room.

In a corner booth sat a slave whose silver metal collar caught the light with every slight movement. Blonde hair fell in smooth waves to her shoulders, framing green eyes that flicked up from a half-empty cup. Her lips carried a slight plumpness, high cheekbones giving her face an elegant structure, while the tight red dress she wore hugged a slender body enhanced with full D-cup breasts and a narrow twenty-four-inch waist. The material stretched over super smooth, hairless skin that shone faintly under the warm lighting, the dress revealing yet far more modest than most slaves were permitted to wear in public.

Emma collected her latte and walked over carefully to the young blonde woman she recognized. “Hello, Caitlin,” she said, her voice steady despite the years that had passed since the two last spoke.

Caitlin had been Emma’s closest friend all through high school, the two of them inseparable until everything had changed. The moment Caitlin turned eighteen, her family could not afford the exemption license that would have kept her free. Ownership loomed as the only alternative, and if her father didn’t choose a suitable Master for her, the government would take the decision out of his hands by sending her to auction or assigning her as property of the state. To escape it, Caitlin’s father allowed her to marry Marcus Reid, her boyfriend at the time, transferring ownership to him in a rushed ceremony that secured the blonde from worse hands.

Marcus had dated Emma first, back in their early teens, when everything felt simple and full of possibility. She ended things abruptly after she was found kissing a cocky football player. She managed to break up with Marcus without him finding out, citing her need to focus on her studies. He moved on to Caitlin after that, and the three of them drifted into an awkward orbit. Emma attended their wedding shortly after Caitlin’s eighteenth birthday, standing in the pews as her best friend and ex-boyfriend exchanged perverted vows. Once the collar clicked around Caitlin’s neck, Emma distanced herself completely. Being around the ex she was unfaithful to unnerved the brunette. Additionally, associating with a slave carried social risk for a free woman trying to make her own way in the world, and she convinced herself the cut was cleaner for everyone.

Caitlin looked up, her eyes narrowing as she saw her uncollared former best friend looking down at her, recognizing the woman instantly. “Emma,” she replied in a measured tone. “It’s been a while.”

Emma slid into the seat opposite her former friend, setting the latter down with care while she searched for the right words. “How have you been?” she started. “How is Marcus doing?”

The blonde slave’s guarded expression softened just a fraction. She nodded slowly before taking a sip of her drink. “I got lucky with him,” she said. “He can have his mood swings sometimes, and he has to keep up appearances for work, but he’s the best owner I could have hoped for under the circumstances.”

Emma nodded as her eyes drifted to the woman’s busty chest. “Those are big. I always remember you being proud of your flat chest. Did he make you get them done?”

Caitlin’s cheeks colored slightly, but she lifted her chin and looked the brunette directly in the eye. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “The enhancements help him keep face at work events. Most men in his position expect their property to look a certain way.”

Emma gasped lightly. She had always imagined that Caitlin would live a relatively everyday life with Marcus. She knew he was one of the good guys who didn’t believe in female ownership, and she assumed her former friend would have lived as free a life as she did. She never even stopped to consider that external pressure would have Caitlin modify herself like that. “So, umm,” Emma paused, not sure what to say. “What’s being a slave really like?”

Caitlin’s green eyes darted around the coffee shop, checking for any nearby ears before she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s horrible,” she replied, the words barely audible over the conversation in the background. “I got lucky with Marcus, but my life is controlled in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

She lightly touched the silver collar and lifted it, revealing a faint scar on her neck. “There’s a GPS and status tracker chip implanted right here,” she continued in the same hushed tone. “The government monitors it all the time. A government official visits our home once a month to make sure I’m being treated right, whatever that means.”

Emma felt a chill settle in her chest as Caitlin spoke, the casual cruelty of the system hitting her harder than she expected.

“They’re all about control of women,” the blonde added, her voice dropping even lower. “There are even rumors that they’re planning to expand their reach even further.”

The slave paused, glancing around once more like a paranoid fugitive. “Marcus was offered a governmental position as a programmer three months ago,” she said. “The money is good, but his colleagues are animals. He has to save face and act the same way whenever he’s around them, even though he hates it. It’s horrible.”

Emma softly bit her lower lip as she took in Caitlin’s story. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said as sympathetically as she could. “Marcus is the reason I message you, actually,” she continued quietly. “The company I work for, CuffTech, just installed a new CEO who is making it his mission to degrade and destroy working conditions for his female employees. I kinda hoped Marcus could help me out. I’ve just been signed up for some testing program, and I know Marcus’s expertise could get me out of it.”

Caitlin’s green eyes widened. “You work at CuffTech,” she said in surprise before shaking her head and glancing down. “Marcus and I have bigger problems than helping someone who cut us off years ago,” she replied, her tone rising.

The brunette slave trainer opened her mouth to respond. “Hear me out, Caitlin,” she pleaded. “It could end up helping both of us.”

The slave pushed her cup aside and stood, her red dress pulling against her chest as she gathered her small purse. “I’m not interested in hearing you out,” she said firmly. “I haven’t seen you for years, and you start calling when you get into trouble. Don’t contact me again!”

Emma reached across the table, her finger brushing the air near Caitlin’s wrist. “Please, Caitlin,” she said, desperation creeping into her tone. “This isn’t just about me. If what you’re saying about the government is true, the countless free women could be at risk. Marcus could—”

Caitlin pulled her hand away sharply, her green eyes flashing with defiance. “Goodbye, Emma,” she said, the words final as she turned and walked toward the door, her heels carrying her with quiet dignity, the men stopping their conversations to watch her walk away.

Emma watched her former friend leave and close the coffee shop door behind her. She sat alone with her untouched latte, the warmth long gone as she contemplated her next move, and wondered how she was going to fight back against CuffTech’s draconian policies.

❖

It was two in the morning, yet Emma remained wide awake in her pajamas, the soft cotton shorts and oversized t-shirt offering far more comfort than she was ever afforded at work these days. She sat hunched over the glowing screen of her laptop in her private study, her fingers flying across the keys while exhaustion tugged at her eyes. Sleep refused to come, chased away by the relentless replay of yesterday’s board meeting and the chilling certainty that her position at CuffTech had become far more precarious than she ever imagined.

She had started with simple searches about the new CEO, Kyle Francis, curious about the man who strolled into the position and had turned her professional life upside down within a matter of days. The deeper she dug, the more connections surfaced between him and the government, threats that tightened around her chest with every click.

The chief trainer paused on an archived government directory page, her lips parting as she gasped sharply. Kyle Francis had once held the title Director of the Female Apprehension Taskforce, a role responsible for tracking and capturing women whose exemption licenses had expired or whose owners reported them missing. The position existed in the shadowy overlap between law enforcement and ownership enforcement, and his name appeared prominently in reports praising the department’s efficiency record. Her skin crawled with fury the deeper she dug.

Emma stared at the screen for a long moment, the implications sinking in like ice water. The man now running CuffTech had built his career on capturing women exactly like her.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she closed the tab and opened another search, this one for recent government contracts involving CuffTech. Most results returned sanitized press releases praising partnerships for public safety, but one link led to a shadowy archive site that collected scrubbed stories, pages that had vanished from mainstream sources usually within hours of publication.

She scrolled through the list of deleted headlines until one caught her eye.

US Government and CuffTech Sign $45 Billion Agreement – Waived Protections for Experimental Testing Programs.

Emma clicked the cached article, her pulse racing as the text loaded. The piece, dated only three weeks ago, detailed a massive funding deal that granted CuffTech broad exemptions from standard employee protection laws during product trials. In exchange for exclusive access to new control technologies, the company could bypass oversight on human testing, with particular emphasis on female subjects in development roles.

The article had been pulled within hours, and the brunette couldn’t find any mention of the major agreement through any of the major news publications. Comments from anonymous sources below the archive hinted at internal pressure to bury the story, citing national security concerns.

Emma sat frozen, the pieces clicking together with chilling clarity. The new uniform policy, the forced testing role, and Carlos’s eager volunteering of her for the trials. All of it tied directly to this agreement. CuffTech wasn’t just creating innovative products; it was operating with government blessing to push boundaries that no ethical company would touch.

She wondered if the testing Carlos had signed her up for had anything to do with this agreement. Someone powerful wanted this story buried, and they had the influence to make it disappear.

The brunette’s hands rested on the keyboard, unmoving now while dread settled in her chest. She was in deeper trouble than she had realized, caught in a web between corporate greed and government control. If she didn’t find a way to fight back soon, she would become a de facto slave of the company, her body and freedom sacrificed to whatever experiments they deemed necessary, no matter what her exemption license claimed.

Emma slowly closed the laptop, and the room fell into darkness. She knew sleep would not come tonight, and she knew she only had a weekend to fix this before Monday turned her fears into a permanent reality.

End of Chapter Three