It's always a great time to welcome All These Roadworks at Erotikinks. I'm excited to bring a novella-length tale of office submission to you today, as part of the continuing partnership with other great erotic authors! Fans of stories like Korrupting Kayla will love this title!
Emma is a sexy executive for Kavanagh & True. When her diversity policy fails, with a little help from HR, Emma finds herself following a new kind of policy. Each day brings a fresh humiliation, making Emma doubt her beliefs, and slide deeper into slutty submission to the men in her office.
Chapter One: Not Fair, Sir
“It’s not fair!” protested Emma. “All the evidence showed that the policy *should* have
worked.”
She knew she was pouting. She hated pouting. It made her look like an infant, and a
senior executive at Kavenagh & True couldn’t afford to look like an infant. But she
couldn’t help it. When she felt things were unfair, she pouted.
“I don’t care what *your* evidence says,” Tim explained carefully. “*My* evidence is
the final HR expenses for last three quarters, and our expenditure has gone up by 20
per cent, with no corresponding increase in productivity or profit.”
He was talking about Emma’s diversity plan. She was the most senior woman
employed by Kavenagh & True - and even then, three steps down the ladder from the
senior partners - and she had argued strongly that the boys’ club culture of the firm
was excluding women and costing the company opportunities and profits.
She had lobbied for the company to implement a packet of HR reforms - quotas for
new female employees, generous maternity leave and return to work conditions,
gender-blind promotion processes - and she had staked her reputation and job on the
promise that the firm would see the benefits.
Except the firm had implemented her plan - but it wasn’t seeing benefits. The head of
HR, Tim Bolland, was standing in her office right now, explaining that the diversity
initiative had been a financial disaster.
“There has to be some mistake,” Emma pleaded. “Maybe there are benefits that don’t
show up in the data.”
“There aren’t,” insisted Tim. “Women are costing the firm money, hand over fist, and
when I go to the partners with this, they’re going to ask for your resignation, Emma.”
Emma was desperate. She’d worked so hard to get to this position. Resigning now
would kill her career.
“It’s only three quarters,” said Emma. “Give it the full year. Maybe it will turn
around. Please?”
Tim looked at her - at her silky chestnut hair, at the large tits that strained against her
professional shirt-and-blouse combo, at the erotically desperate expression on her
face.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You see, I have my *own* theory about what this
company needs from women. I think it needs its female employees to have a better
attitude. I think if we saw some proper deference from women towards men, it would
lead to an improvement in our financials.”
Emma scrunched up her face. “That’s ridiculous,” she said.
“Nevertheless,” said Tim, “I’ll do you a deal. I’ll hold onto these numbers until the end
of the year, and see if they turn around. But for each week until they *do* turn around,
you’re going to be the test case for part of *my* plan. I’m going to give you a direction
about your behaviour, and you’re going to obey it, or else I’ll take what I’ve got straight
to the partners.”
Emma thought about it - and, to her annoyance, realised she was pouting as she
thought. She knew from the look on Tim’s face that she wasn’t going to like his
directions. But if it gave her a chance to solve the problem - or at least a chance to
find a job elsewhere before she got fired….
“What would be the first direction?” she asked, cautiously.
“I want you to address men as ‘sir’,” he said. “All men. I don’t care whether they’re
above you or below you in the company - you call them ‘sir’.”
She flushed. It was humiliating and degrading. She hated it already. But… it was
relatively harmless.
“All right,” she said, through gritted teeth. “You’ve got a deal… sir.”
===
If she had hated it in concept, she hated it even more in practice.
Her very first chance to follow Tim’s rule came shortly after Tim left her office, when a
red-headed teenaged boy barely out of high school brought her some files she’d
requested from archives.
“Thank you… sir…” she said, blushing bright red.
The kid did a double-take - a senior executive was acting like he was her superior -
but he continued on his rounds without commenting.
Later, she found it undermining her management. She had gone to the desk of one
of her underlings to demand some overdue work be finished immediately, but it didn’t
come out quite right.
“Why aren’t those progress reports finished… sir?” she asked.
Her subordinate had been about to give a defensive answer, but the word “sir”
changed the conversation completely. He looked up at her, surprised, and said
confidently, “Because I haven’t got to them yet, *Emma*. I’ll tell you when I do.”
Blushing, thrown off balance, she retreated to her office.
It continued on like that all day. She felt like she was back in all-girls school,
addressing her teachers. It was bad enough having to call all men “sir”, but she
couldn’t do it without blushing, which just further reinforced the feeling that she was a
naughty schoolgirl apologising to an authority figure.
The men in the office picked up on the changed dynamic, and by the end of the week
she noticed that even people well below her in the office were starting to treat her like
she was their subordinate. They would give her work without asking, talk over the top
of her, and ignore her opinions.
It culminated on the last day of the week when a junior technician in IT grabbed her
arm as she was walking past his workspace. “Fetch us a coffee, would you, sugartits?” he said.
She bristled, and slapped his arm away. “Get your own coffee… sir,” she said, and
stalked away in a huff.
===
On Monday morning, Tim was in her office again.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope the numbers have turned around in a week?” Emma
asked. “I mean, I suppose it’s too much, sir?”
Tim laughed. “No, that’s not realistic,” he said. “So are you ready to take another
direction? This will be on top of your current one, of course - they all continue until the
partners get the financial figures.”
Emma pouted - but she had known this was coming, and was resigned to it. “Yes,
sir,” she said.
“Good girl,” said Tim.
Emma ground her teeth at the diminutive “girl”, but said nothing.
“So I heard you had a run-in with Cory in IT on Friday,” he said. “He asked you for a
coffee, and you were quite rude to him.”
“He called me ‘sugar-tits’!” snapped Emma. “And I’m not his coffee girl! I’m a senior
executive!”
“Well, that may be,” said Tim, “but you made a choice right then to have an argument
when you didn’t need to. You could have just said, ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m busy right now.’”
“He called me ‘sugar-tits’!” complained Emma again.
“That’s a shitty reason to start an argument in the office, Emma,” said Tim. “So your
direction for this week is that from now, you’re going to answer to those kind of pet
names. If someone calls you ‘honey’ or ‘love’ or ‘sweetcheeks’ or ‘sugar-tits’ - or even,
for that matter, if they call you ‘bitch’ or ‘slut’ - you’re going to act like they just gave
you a compliment, and treat it like it’s the name your parents gave you. No rudeness,
no shouting, no ignoring them, no complaints. Understand?”
Emma fumed. She wanted to tell Tim to get fucked. She wanted to take the numbers
to the partners right now, AND tell them that Tim was blackmailing her. But… Tim
played golf with the partners once a month, whereas she had once heard the partners
speculating on whether Emma was good at sucking cocks. She had no illusions how
it would go if she asked them to side with her against Tim.
So she did what she had to. “Yes, sir,” she said.
Tim smiled. “Great attitude, bitch,” he said. “Now, I expect you to go down to IT,
apologise to Cory - loudly, in front of his whole team - and tell him it’s okay to call you
‘sugar-tits’ if he wants to.”
Emma went bright red - and she stayed bright red all the way down to the IT area, not
believing she was really going to do this.
“Cory,” she said, arriving at his desk, face flushed and not making eye contact. “I’m
sorry I was rude to you on Friday when you called me ‘sugar-tits’, sir. That was
inappropriate, and if you want to call me ‘sugar-tits’, that’s completely okay, sir.”
There was nervous laughter throughout IT - the whole team had heard what she
said. Cory, amazed said, hesitantly, “Apology accepted… sugar-tits.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Emma, and walked away as quickly as she could.
But word got out. IT made a point of calling her ‘sugar-tits’ from that point forward. Tim
started loudly calling her ‘Kitten’ in public areas - to which she had to say, “Thank you,
sir.” And after that, it seemed like men stopped using her name altogether.
“Here’s the documents you asked for, sweetie,” said the red-headed teen from
archives on his next visit.
“Sign this for me, babe,” said one of her underlings, presenting her papers.
“Get out of my way, cunt,” growled a man from accounting, bumping into her physically
in the corridor.
As people learned that there was no pet name that she would object to - and as they
saw people get away with calling her “bitch” or “cow” - the disrespect escalated.
Friday ended with her giving a presentation on an ongoing contract to a group of senior analysts. When she was done, the man chairing the meeting - a man theoretically at
the same level in the company as her - said, “Thanks for that, fuckdoll.” He looked at
her, as if daring her to complain, while the other men at the meeting openly chuckled.
Emma flushed bright red - but she said, “Thank you, sir.”
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