The following story contains bondage, humiliation and some absolutely egregious sexism (which I discuss further in an endnote I'd urge you to read). Reader discretion is advised.
1. Amelia's presentation
Amelia glanced around the conference room, noting with dismay that 39 of the 40 executives present were men. White men, at that; and white men who could scarcely be described as young. It was not exactly a diverse audience. But it was an audience that needed to hear what she had to say. She checked the video camera was capturing her best side - the video of her speech would be sent round dozens of offices as a tool for re-educating sexist managers - and cleared her throat lightly.
"Good morning," she said, "and welcome to today's seminar on feminism in the workplace. As you know, feminism is a
very
serious topic, and not one to be taken lightly. Please take a look at my posterboard. These are key rules that we must keep in mind in the workplace, and outside of the workplace."
As always, the pretty 22-year-old had prepared a list of feminism's most obvious principles and put them on display. The list read:
WOMEN ARE:
• capable
• intelligent
• independent
• not sex objects
WOMEN DESERVE:
• respect
• agency
• dignity
• freedom from harassment
There was an audible sigh from the audience, but Amelia was unable to spot the culprit. No doubt they had heard these things before, but Amelia doubted very much that they believed in them. The young new CEO - the only other woman in the room, or indeed at any level of power in the company - was unhappy with the culture of casual sexism she had encountered from her very first day in the job and had requested the seminar as a matter of urgency. The poor woman had been catcalled, talked over in meetings, and told to make sandwiches for the rest of the executive team. On one occasion she had arrived in her office to find a bundle of ropes and cloths on her desk, together with detailed instructions for placing them on herself.
"Undeniably," Amelia said severely, "women deserve to be treated with respect, and dignity. We are not eye candy for your pleasure. We are not helpless damsels for you to rescue. I myself am a powerful woman and I will not submit to the patriarchy. Neither will your CEO, Ms Fotheringham, who persuaded me to come."
This time there were some giggles. Amelia found herself blushing slightly, frustrated that her authority was not being respected. But she had dealt with difficult audiences before now, and had always succeeded in winning them over to feminist principles. And she felt particularly confident today, thanks to the assistance of a new and extremely promising colleague.
"Some men think women are undeserving of these characteristics," she said in her sternest voice, hoping to embarrass the troublemakers. "Some men think women should be silent and obedient in the workplace, making sandwiches and looking pretty. Some men would like women to be bound and gagged, wriggling and squirming helplessly. My new colleague Doug has come up with a fascinating way to demonstrate how ridiculous this notion is."
This was Doug's cue. Amelia had never hired a man before, but the British 40-something had wowed her at interview, showing an encyclopaedic knowledge of her major speeches and presentations and coming up with some really out-of-the-box ideas for today's seminar. He now stepped behind the lovely feminist, gently guiding her arms behind her back and crossing her wrists, and then tied them securely together with strong black cord, looping and cinching quickly and carefully. In fact, he tied them rather more securely than she expected - it was only supposed to be symbolic, after all! Still, it would get the idea across to these dimwitted men.
"Do you see how tightly and helplessly bound I am?" she said, tugging uselessly at her wrists, which Doug had thoughtfully anchored with a rope around her trim waist. She was conscious that for the first time she appeared to have the room's undivided attention. "But men aren't satisfied with that. Doug, please bind my chest as tightly as possible."
Her new employee obliged by wrapping rope around Amelia's shapely chest, above and below her breasts. He then brought the rope over her shoulder from behind and used it to yank up the lower chest loops before taking it back over the other shoulder, creating a tight and constricting breast harness. She wriggled a little to test the secureness of the bindings for her own curiosity, and to demonstrate it to the audience.
"My upper body is completely helpless, imprisoned by these tight ropes," she reported. "However, at least I can still walk around freely."
She turned around slowly, showing off how neatly her arms were bound behind her... and without planning to, giving the audience - and the video camera - a fine view of her pert behind. She had decided to wear a very short pink wraparound skirt for the presentation. That had been Doug's idea; he said it was "a searing indictment of the male gaze that would shame the men with their own desires". It went with Amelia's skintight pink top, at least. She typically tried to dress feminine, but didn't think this made her any less of a feminist.
"But the patriarchy doesn't want that to happen," she continued. "So Doug, please bind my legs as tightly as possible to represent women's lack of freedom of movement."
Doug went quickly to work. (He was always happy to put in extra effort for the cause. Amelia was so pleased to have found him.) He tightly bound Amelia's legs together at ankle, knee and thigh, cinching the ropes hard; it was actually a bit painful, but she didn't want to break the flow of the presentation by complaining. She was now balancing precariously on her high heels - which were pink too - and hoping she wouldn't fall over. That wouldn't do at all. The last thing she wanted was for these sexist old men to see a proud feminist looking ridiculous!
"Look at my tightly bound, helpless body," she said, her voice unintentionally becoming sultry and seductive. "Look at how objectifying these bonds are - the way they draw attention to my breasts and keep me obedient and compliant."
These lines had been supplied by Doug, who said they would embarrass the men into examining their own attitudes to women. Amelia found them odd, but trusted her colleague's instincts. It was useful to have a man on the inside, so to speak: a man on her team who was able to understand the thought processes of sexists.
"Do any of the men here think this is an acceptable way to treat an independent feminist? Do you think this is 'hot' or 'sexy'? Would you like to truss me up like a helpless damsel in distress? Of course you wouldn't."
There were smiles throughout the room as the men appeared to dispute this conclusion. The only person not smiling was Ms Fotheringham, who was shaking her head in disbelief. Amelia was briefly concerned, but then decided her client would be impressed by the next phase of the presentation.
"But of course," she said, "the patriarchy refuses to listen to women. Doug, please gag me thoroughly to represent the suppression of female voices. Naturally, Doug will take over the rest of the presentation."
2. Doug's presentation
"Thank you, sweetheart," Doug drawled lazily as he stood up again. "It's a pleasure to watch you work, although I can't say I enjoy listening to your tedious chatter. So let's get you properly muzzled to represent the suppression of blah blah blah whatever."
Amelia looked startled by this departure from the script.
"Doug, what do you mmmmpphhh!"
Laughing, he shoved a gigantic red ballgag into her wide-open mouth, then buckled the straps as tight as he could behind her head. She squeaked with surprise and no little pain, as the straps bit into her soft skin.
"That's better, isn't it, gents? I thought she'd never shut up. Women never stop talking, that's the trouble."
There were mutters of agreement, and some cruel laughter. Amelia looked furious, and started hopping up and down and mmmphing through her gag.
"Oh hush now, you silly bimbo," Doug said offhandedly. He gave her a firm smack on the arse, and the audience cheered.
"Now, shall we amend this list a little? I can see my secretary has made a few errors; she is rather dim, I'm afraid. Move aside, girl."
As Amelia wriggled and squirmed and protested through the gag, Doug crossed out several of the entries on the list, and added new items of his own. The first section now read:
WOMEN ARE:
•
capable
helpless
