Sarah took six weeks off work for her breast enhancement, to give her proper recovery time, and during that period, with the Minister’s approval, Lachlan acted in her position.  It sent a good message for the Acting Secretary of the Department of Women to be a man, he thought, and he was able to use the position to push forward Sarah’s existing programs of female disempowerment, while still claiming them to be woman-led initiatives.

 

During this period he also began encouraging women who received minor disciplinary action to go through the Securo-System.  They would happily agree to be strapped into the machine in order to avoid being fired or otherwise punished, and they would come out with a crippling awareness of their own guilt and inadequacy, and a desire to atone for their failures by showing their tits to male co-workers, or sucking cocks, or helping to remove the rights of their fellow women.

 

This further testing of the machine was fed back to the machine’s creators, and in return they provided updates and improvements for the Securo-System, that allowed it to work faster, and more precisely.  Lachlan soon found he could process several women a day, and be far more specific and direct in the ways that he overwrote and reorganised their brains.  If he had put Sarah through this new, improved machine, he likely could have transformed her into a degraded slut overnight, rather than having to work through this process of “surrenders”.

 

Ah, but would that have been as fun?

 

Once the men learned that a good number of women in the office would allow themselves to be pushed to their knees and have a cock forced into their mouth without negotiation or consent, they began to treat the rest of the female workforce the same way.  Within a single week, Lachlan walked in on two separate rapes, one in the break room and one in the men’s toilets, and he received no less than six complaints of sexual misconduct from aggrieved women.

 

For each of those complaints, he told the women he would only act on them if they would first receive new “technological counselling” - and when they agreed, he would strap them into the Securo-System and get it to teach them that (a) their rape was their own fault, (b) they had enjoyed it, and (c) it was a normal thing to happen to women at an office.   When they got out of the machine they would apologise for being a difficult bitch about the rape - which they admitted they deserved - and offer to suck his cock by way of atonement.

 

One of the highlights of his term as Acting Secretary was “Bring A Woman To Work” Day.  All employees were encouraged to bring a female family member to work - whereupon the family member would be required to compete in a bikini modelling competition, a wet T-shirt competition, an erotic dance/striptease talent show, and jelly wrestling.  He held these events once a fortnight, and it was strongly implied that employees - and particularly women - who failed to bring a family member, or whose family member was insufficiently “competitive”, would be disciplined or fired.

 

It was fun to see women, frantic to keep their employment - or converted into gender traitors by the Securo-System - cajoling, begging, forcing or blackmailing their daughters, sisters or cousins to come to the office dressed in nothing but a bikini and cavort like a prostitute in front of an office full of men.

He heard one mother telling her barely-clothed 18-year-old blonde daughter, “You’d better make them want to rape you, or you’re getting such a spanking when you get home.”  

 

He heard a 35-year-old MILF telling her buxom redheaded sister, “Make sure that G-string falls off so that they can see your cunt, or else I’m telling your husband what you get up to on Thursday nights.”

 

He heard rumours that one woman in the communications department was going to force her 19-year-old niece to get a boob job just so that she’d be more appealing to the men of the office.

 

He summoned that last woman to his office and told her that exploiting her niece that way was unconscionable, and definitely a fireable offence - but that he might let her off the hook if he had the chance to speak to the niece in question one-on-one, and if the niece was sufficiently “agreeable”.

 

The niece turned out to be gorgeous, and she cried as he fucked her - both because he was taking her virginity, and also because she wasn’t on birth control, but mostly because he called her a slut and a whore as he raped her.  He told her that she was ugly, but that she was prettier when she was crying, and that rape was the only way anyone would ever want to fuck her.  He ejaculated in her cunt, not caring whether he impregnated her.

 

The next day he called her aunt back into his office, and showed her the footage of her niece’s rape.  He told her to masturbate to it, and told her that she wouldn’t be fired providing that she could orgasm from watching her niece being fucked.

 

It turned out she could, though it clearly drove her half-mad with guilt.  He told her to make sure that her niece never entered any career other than prostitution, and he knew she would obey, because he now had footage of her cumming from watching her niece’s rape.

 

He was grateful to the Securo-System, and he was grateful to Sarah, and he was grateful to the Minister, because together they had cooperated to build a world where Lachlan could exploit women exactly as - in his mind - they were born to be exploited.

 

===

 

Sarah’s breast enhancement itself was relatively quick.  It only required a single night in hospital, but Lachlan booked her in for a week, and while she was there he scheduled a few other “improvements” for her.

 

One was a course of laser hair removal, to ensure that her cunt and anus would never again grow hair.  Ordinarily this would require several treatments over months, but Lachlan had discovered a new method, with only two applications five days apart, that was looking for test subjects.  The risks of the new method were (apparently) only that it might be excruciatingly painful - agonising, but not scarring or disfiguring - and Lachlan thought that that was a risk he was prepared to accept, on behalf of Sarah.

 

(He was told later that Sarah had, in fact, screamed, as the lasers burned away her hair follicles, but then she had, quite unexpectedly, been overtaken by a hands-free pain-induced orgasm, so he made her thank him for the pain the next time he saw her.)

 

He also arranged for her to be given a tattoo.  It was two small lines of text, across her midriff, directly beneath her breasts, in a fancy but very legible script, adorned with attractive scrollwork.

 

Both lines read the same: “ALL WOMEN ARE CUNTS”.

 

One was written normally, so anyone who ever saw Sarah nude would see it, and assume she had chosen to put it there.

 

The other was written in reverse so that Sarah would read it every time she looked at her nude body in a mirror.

 

When he first attended on her in hospital after her surgery, he almost laughed when he saw her.  Her new tits were truly huge - and round, like soccer balls, rather than the natural “bulging sack” look of larger breasts.  The surgeons had done a good job - they didn’t look so unnatural as to be repellant.  She was a cartoon caricature of a woman - but a *hot* cartoon.  Her nipples were still properly oriented, and he was told she would still be able to lactate and express milk naturally.  And yet, Sarah would never again be able to minimise the size of her tits, or pretend that she didn’t have a pair of ginormous fake fuckballoons, no matter what she wore.

 

It was clear that Sarah hated her new body.  She lay naked in her hotel bed, and her hands twitched with the powerful desire to cover her shameful new sex-melons from his gaze.

 

And yet at the same time, she *wanted* him to look. He had told her that she would only be pretty if she had fake tits, and she was desperate for him to find them pretty.  She needed his approval of her giant new funbags.

 

Alone in the room with her, Lachlan showed his approval in the only way that really mattered.  He unzipped his pants, and allowed Sarah to watch his cock hardening as he stared at her breasts.  

 

In reality, he was turned on as much by her shame, humiliation and desperation as by her tits.  It had been hot hearing her tell the doctors, of her own free will (subject to his hypnosis) that she wanted huge disgusting rapemelons on her chest.  It had been erotic to know that she was changing her body into that of a ludicrous porn-doll entirely to please Lachlan’s cock.  

 

“You look less ugly now, Kitten,” he told her.  “Not totally disgusting.  But you’d look better with cum on your face.”

 

She stared at him with desperate, hungry eyes.  There was the glimpse of a tear in one corner of one eye.

 

And then she reached out, took his cock in one hand, pointed it at her face, and began to masturbate him.

 

As she pumped his cock, he told her how ridiculous and disgusting she looked with her huge fuckbags.  He told her that she looked like a sex-doll now and that the only thing that people would think about when they looked at her was how fun she might be to rape.  He told her that very few people would ever look at her face again - only at her tits - particularly after she explicitly gave them permission to do just that, like the good gender traitor she was.  He told her how her example would encourage other women to turn themselves into fuck-objects for men’s pleasure.

 

And then, as he felt his orgasm approaching, he reminded her how she had used the work photocopiers for a personal sexual purpose.

 

“What are you going to surrender next, Kitten?” he asked her.

 

She moaned in horror.  He hadn’t even let her masturbate to get aroused, so that she could think with her cunt instead of her brain.

 

She tried to think, but she needed to give him an answer.  

 

“My possessions,” she said.  It was the least-bad of her remaining choices.  He already controlled her finances.

 

“Good girl,” he told her.  “As of right now, you are literally incapable of owning property.  Anything you have, anything you buy, anything that is given to you, actually belongs to me.  Do you understand?”

 

She nodded, still pumping his cock.

 

“For instance, you do not own any clothes,” he told her.  “And therefore, from now on, you will not wear clothes at any time, other than at work, unless I give you explicit permission otherwise.  You will travel to work in the nude.  You will go home in the nude.  Upon arriving at work, you will look in the garbage bins behind the building, where I will leave an outfit for you.  You dress in the clothes I provide, and you take them off and put them back in the garbage before going home.  We’ll work something similar out for your waitress job.  Do you understand, Kitten?”

 

She nodded again.  She knew that she was losing this game of “surrender”.  She may have even started to truly understand that she had already lost.  If she had had any doubt that her fate was as anything other than a humiliated gender-traitor fuckdoll, her new breasts and tattoo had broken that belief.

 

All that was left now was to finish breaking her - and then decide what he would make out of the pieces.

 

He felt himself ejaculating, and he sighed happily as he watched his cum splatter over Sarah’s face and eyes.

 

“Good Kitten,” he said, and then took her hand away and pushed his cock into her mouth so she could suck him clean.

 

Her mouth felt wonderful - but what felt even better was the knowledge that she wouldn’t wipe his cum away when he left.  She would leave it on her face.

 

Because it made her look prettier.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)