Unprofessional Conduct

This story features quite severe (M/f) rope bondage, humiliation, and a lot of sexism. It's supposed to be silly and, hopefully, fun, but reader discretion is advised. I hope it goes without saying that I do not condone the villain's behaviour or indeed political viewpoints - which are supposed to come across as cartoonishly repugnant - in real life. This is a fantasy, not a manifesto.

1

"Come in," said Ms Trueheart, who continued to type rather self-importantly as Doug opened the door and peered in. Was she really that busy, Doug wondered, or did she just want to make him wait? Not that it was much of a hardship having to look at her, all big bright eyes and wavy dark hair, even if that lovely hair was currently confined in a severe bun. And those tits! Wait, hold on, she was talking again...

"Riiight," she purred, having completed whatever she was working on. Probably a recipe for cupcakes, Doug thought. Or an email to her boyfriend. "You're the new hire. I wanted to talk to you. Come in and close the door. And sit down."

This didn't sound good. Ms Trueheart - always Ms Trueheart, never Amelia, he wouldn't make that mistake again - was Doug's line manager, and she had had it in for him ever since he joined the company. She thought he was frivolous, unqualified, bad with details, a waste of space. She thought he'd only got the job because he played golf with the financial director. That last one was true, admittedly, but it wasn't Doug's fault he was good at networking. Frankly, she could learn from his example.

"This meeting is about your professional conduct," said Ms Trueheart, lips pursed with disapproval. "I've been overseeing your work, and it's not great. I'm expecting you to run analysation on these five datasets, yet you've been unable to provide any figures! I don't CARE if it's been a week and you're new to the job. I'm expecting you to do these things. If you're unable to do them, I think we should consider your future at this company."

So this was the crisis that had been approaching. She wanted his head... and probably some other parts of him, if Doug's suspicions were correct. Women could never succeed in business because they were so emotional.

"I consider my future all the time,

Ms

Trueheart," he said, sarcastically emphasising the courtesy title she insisted on everyone using. "And I assure you, it would be a lot rosier if you weren't in it. My job is to get things done. Your job, apparently, is to get in my way."

Ms Trueheart looked surprised and rather irritated to discover that he didn't intend to beg for his job.

"Don't get angry," she said, snappily. "I'm giving you constructive criticism. I need to be able to tell you these things. It doesn't seem like you're smart or capable enough to figure them out on your own. And at your age, I imagine it's not easy to learn new things."

Doug was forty-four, roughly twice Ms Trueheart's age, and if he had been feeling any qualms about what he was about to do, her condescending manner dispelled them definitively. What a brat! Bringing her down a peg would be a pleasure and a privilege.

2

"You're probably right," Doug sighed theatrically. "If only I was smart enough to steal from the company, like you. Such a

capable

thing to do. I'm so impressed."

She laughed.

"You're accusing me of stealing company property?! Seriously? Don't be absurd."

"That's precisely what I'm accusing you of, you silly bimbo. And I can prove it."

"You have proof? Right, I'm sure you do."

Was it Doug's imagination, or did she look a tiny bit worried? He leaned forward and showed her his phone, then started casually swiping through various still images taken from the CCTV. He played poker with the head of security.

"Oh!"

The look on Ms Trueheart's face was delicious. She couldn't believe what had happened! Doug suspected she had never lost an argument before.

"That

is

proof," she said finally. "I actually did not expect you to have... Okay! Well, we don't need to make this official, do we?"

She crossed one shapely leg over the other.

"I get a lot of money selling these datasets to other companies, money that we could share if you'd like. Or I can make it worth your while in other ways. I mean, there must be something you want from me, right?"

Doug smiled.

3

Ms Trueheart was dressed, as always, very smartly. She had on a longish camel-coloured coat over a tight grey top and a short plaid skirt. The whole ensemble spoke of power and confidence - so Doug immediately decided this would have to be the first thing to go. He wanted to dismantle her authority piece by piece.

"Lose the coat."

She tried to act unflustered, but Doug wasn't fooled. "I can take off my coat," she said, slipping it off. "It's no issue."

"Keep going."

"My shirt too? Fine. It's not a big deal."

As she pulled the top over her head, Doug marvelled at her firm round breasts, neatly packaged in the skimpy pale bra. She was a pretty thing, it was just a shame she was such a bitch. He gestured again.

"And my skirt? Okay. Fine."

She stood up and twisted the little skirt round until she could reach the zip, then wriggled out of it. She stood there in her bra, panties and tights, self-consciously covering her chest with her hands, a pleasingly diminished figure.

"There, are you happy now?" she said, trying to brazen it out. "I have everything off."

"I'm delighted," Doug answered. "But I'll be even happier once we've got your hands bound neatly behind your back."

"You want to… what?!"

"Or I could just report you to the financial director, who - maybe you didn't know - just happens to be a personal friend of mine."

"Okay, okay, fine, you can tie my hands behind my back, it's not a big deal. Just don't report me, please."

4

Doug stepped back and admired the view. Ms Trueheart's wrists were crossed and bound tightly together with slim brown cords just above her cute arse, then anchored in place with further cords around her slender waist. Looking at both things at once, arse and bound wrists, bound wrists and arse, was highly agreeable. In a few minutes she had been transformed from a powerful executive into a helpless sex object. The way things should be, he thought.

"Since I'm in charge now,

Amelia

, it would only be appropriate for you to address me with a little more respect. 'Sir' would do, I think."

She whipped around to face her captor.

"What do you mean? I have to call you sir? I'm not going to humiliate myself for..."

Grinning, Doug took out his phone again.

"Okay, okay! Just put the phone down, it's fine... sir."

"Good, good. That's a much better attitude: you'll go far at this company, young lady, if you can curb that tongue of yours and show a little respectful obedience when speaking to your betters. But you're nowhere near helpless enough for my liking. I'd like to bind your elbows next, I think."

Amelia - that seemed to be her title now - looked confused.

"Okay, I don't see why you have to tie my elbows together, but if that's what you want, sir..."

Doug spun her back round and started looping and cinching with coils of black rope. He lashed Amelia's elbows tightly together, forcing her into an awkward, tits-forward posture that felt uncomfortable and objectifying, then created an intricate rope harness around her chest and shoulders, imprisoning and showcasing her perky breasts.

"There," he said smugly, "that should hold you."

Amelia squirmed and strained a little, but he was quite right. Her upper body was very effectively restrained.

"You have me tied up pretty tightly now," she admitted, as Doug produced yet more rope from his bag. "Oh - you want to tie my legs up too?...Very well."

5

Amelia wobbled slightly as she tried to keep her balance: not easy with her legs bound tightly at thigh, knee and ankle. She was really thoroughly helpless now, and felt incredibly vulnerable. Her underling - now her master - had her completely at his mercy. There was no guessing what he might choose to do with her.

"Okay," she said, trying to pretend she was still in control of the situation, "you have me pretty bound up now. You're satisfied, right? I mean, that's it?"

"You really think we're finished? Not that smart, are you?"

"No, sir, but please-"

"Shut your mouth. You need to learn some obedience. Maybe a leash will help."

"A LEASH?! I'm not some sort of..."

Just the merest glance towards his phone, which was sitting on Amelia's desk.

"Okay. Fine, sir."

Doug looped a length of soft brown cord around Amelia's throat and cinched it just tight enough to be uncomfortable. He tied the end to the hook behind her door so she was securely held in place.

"And we can add a rope down below to keep you nicely submissive..."

He grasped the loose end of the rope hanging down from Amelia's waist, and ran it down between her thighs, slipping it inside her pussy, and then up at the back. He yanked it tight, Amelia squealing and gasping with surprise and discomfort, and knotted it securely above her bum.

Slightly breathlessly, she tried to appeal to his sense of mercy. "Sir, you have me all tied up now," she said, eyes wide and submissive, voice low and seductive. "That's it, right? You're satisfied?"

"Almost there, sweetheart."

"Wait, what are you doing with my panties? Where did you get those?"

Doug looked down at the cute pink panties in his hand, wondering how she had recognised them. Then he noticed the little pictures of kittens.

"Oh, these? I followed you to your gym. I know a fella who works there and he let me borrow a master key for the lockers. Now open wide."

He grabbed Amelia's hair, causing some of it to spill out of its bun, and shoved the panties roughly into her mouth. Furious, she spat them back out and glared at him.

"Hmmm," he said, picking up a roll of duct tape. "Still disobedient, eh?"

6

Things had gone from bad to worse for poor Amelia. She was still securely trussed up - wrists and elbows tied tightly behind her back, chest and legs wrapped with numerous snug loops of rope, throat leashed and pussy split by a cruel crotchrope - but her mouth was now stuffed with a used pair of her panties and sealed with duct tape. Doug had gone absolutely crazy with the stuff, wrapping it around and around her head until the lower half of her face was completely hidden.

And then, to add insult to injury, he had grabbed a scarlet lipstick from her handbag and written BITCHY on the silver tape. He was now sitting on her office chair, toying with the end of the leash, looking up at his squirming prisoner and laughing, while she bounced up and down on her bound feet, trying to speak through the gag and completely failing. Even more hair had escaped from the bun now and trailed across her face.

"Mnn cnn'ph dnn phhnph phn mm!" she mewled feebly.

"I

am

doing this to you, you dumb bitch," Doug drawled lazily, then gave the leash a firm yank. She squeaked, nearly tumbled into his lap, managed to right herself, then went very quiet indeed.

"That's better. Now, if you're ready to speak to me with a little more respect, why don't you tell me what you think you can bring to this company? Why should I hire you to be my secretary?"

"Phmcrmphnrm?!"

"Yes of course. I've taken on the role of dataset analysation co-ordinator, since we had to fire the stupid bimbo who used to do that job, and now I need a pretty and submissive young secretary to do menial chores for me. I understand you're looking for work?"

"Mn wrhmn hnrn fnr phhnph jnnh!"

"You worked hard for this job,

sir

. I can see we still have work to do before proceeding with the recruitment process. I find hopping can be a useful training tool, don't you?"

7

They were in Doug's office, although he was already starting to think of himself as Mr Smith, just as Ms Trueheart had seamlessly switched to Amelia. The latter, still bound, gagged, leashed and utterly helpless, was standing by his desk and looking at her captor quizzically.

"You're wondering why I brought you here, aren't you?" Doug said. "Not very nice, is it?"

Amelia looked down at the carpet, which evidently hadn't been vacuumed in a few millennia, then at the dusty bookcases and overflowing bin. She hadn't visited Doug's office before.

"I just thought it might do you good to see how the rest of us get by. Not everyone flashes their tits at the CEO and gets handed a corner office."

This was grossly unfair. Amelia had worked tremendously hard to attain her present position at such a young age.

"N nmfmr fmnphhmn mm phnphph nph nnmnnm!"

"What word are you forgetting, bimbo?"

"Hmmph."

"Very well. You need to be punished. This office might be a lot narrower than yours, but it does have the advantage of being rather longer, which suits us. I'd like you to hop from here to the hatstand at the other end, then come back. And if it takes you more than a minute, I intend to beat you severely."

Amelia looked intently at her captor. Surely he wasn't serious?

"Phphnch nph np ymnr nrphm."

"I kinda hoped you'd say that. Gives me a good reason to do this."

His hand whipped out and slapped Amelia hard on the bum. SMACK! She yelped through the gag, which turned the sound into a muffled mewl.

"Now go. And just so you know, the timer started the first time I gave you the order."

Arse red and stinging, Amelia shot off, bunny-hopping obediently down the room. Bounce, bounce, bounce, she went, hair flicking about, tits jostling up and down. It was difficult to stay on her feet, but above all it was deeply humiliating.

"Very good! And back again."

She turned awkwardly and hopped back to Mr Smith, conscious of how blatantly he was staring at her bouncing breasts. He really was an utterly repellent sexist pig, and she had to put up with his worst behaviour without even being able to complain about it.

"Well done! Let's check the timer. Oh no, sweetheart, you were just a couple of seconds too slow. What a shame."

She noticed that he wasn't letting her see his watch.

"Phhmrm'ph nn wmnm phhnph wmnph mnrm phhnn n mnnnphm!"

"Yes, it was rather close, wasn't it? Now bend over for your beating, young lady."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Amelia squirmed and thrashed in her bonds, and moaned into the gag. It was dreadfully humiliating to be spanked like a naughty schoolgirl.

"Have you learned your lesson, bitch?"

"Nhphnmnphmmm nnph, ymnn bnphrnd."

"No matter. I have another form of persuasion I think you'll enjoy."

8

Amelia wriggled and squirmed in her bonds. She had thought she was helpless before, but now she could barely move at all.

Doug had unceremoniously manhandled her and lifted her on to his desk - the odd thought came that she was being treated like a dossier of documents, filed away neatly for later perusal - where he laid her down on her stomach. He then produced yet another length of rope and looked her meaningfully in the eye.

"Ready, sweetheart?"

"Lmmph mm gn!"

"Don't worry, this shouldn't be too difficult. Provided you're flexible. You

are

flexible, aren't you, doll?"

Without waiting for an answer he grabbed Amelia's hair roughly and started to wind rope around her messy bun, coiling and tightening, coiling and tightening until he had a secure anchoring point. Then he started to pull on the rope, slowly but mercilessly, until Amelia's head was bent back as far as it would go. It was indescribably uncomfortable, and she squeaked ineffectively through her gag to signal her distress.

Ignoring this, and still holding on to the rope attached to her hair, Mr Smith next grabbed Amelia's bound ankles and bent her legs back until her feet were touching her bum. Finally, he knotted the rope to the ankle bonds so the poor damsel was trapped in an agonising bow.

"Plmmnphm!" she moaned, almost inaudibly. "Mn cnn'ph bmnr nph!"

Her captor, unmoved, merely laughed as Amelia strained against the tight ropes. Only the tiniest movements showed she was trying to escape; she was largely immobilised. The gag, too, was devastatingly effective, reducing her complaints to the most pitiful squeaks and moans. Silenced and securely bound, she was entirely at Mr Smith's mercy, and didn't think she could take it much longer.

He walked slowly around his captive, making sure to enjoy the best views of her bound, humiliated distress. He found that the most aesthetically pleasing vantage point was directly from the front, where her lovely breasts were almost spilling out of her bra. He could see her well-pinioned chest lifting up and down on the desk and her body twitching and rocking slightly from side to side as she strained in vain to escape, to even find a position that was fractionally more comfortable.

"When you're ready to submit completely, bitch," he whispered in her ear, "you only have to blink three times."

9

Tightly and thoroughly bound as she still was, Amelia's new position was bliss compared to that brutal hogtie. She was now sitting on Mr Smith's desk; her ankles, knees and thighs were still tied, as were her wrists and elbows, and she was still wearing a leash, a crotchrope, an intricate chest harness, and a silencing duct tape gag. The crucial thing was that Mr Smith had untied her hair from her ankles and allowed her to sit up, and for this alone she was profoundly grateful. Her hair, incidentally, was completely out of the bun now, and cascaded freely about her shoulders.

"Does that feel better?" he asked, almost tenderly.

"Ymmph, phnr."

"You didn't like being hogtied, did you?"

"Nn, phnr."

"Do you regret defying me?"

"Ymmph, phnr."

"Will you defy me again?"

"Nn, phnr."

He smiled, rather sadly, as if regretting the necessity of breaking the prisoner's spirit.

"Are you a dumb bitch for thinking you could be the boss?"

"Ymmph, phnr."

"What are you?"

"Mn dnnmh bnphch, phnr."

"That's right. And who is the boss now?"

"Ymnn nrm, phnr."

"Well, I'm glad we were able to straighten that out. But I want you to remember that you are my property, and I can put you back in that hogtie any time I like. I expect the very highest standards of behaviour from you, Amelia, and I won't put up with anything less. Are we clear?"

"Ymmph, phnr."

Doug turned to face the other men in the room, smiling and spreading his arms apart, as if to say, you see? Easy when you know how. There was a pause, and then a spontaneous round of applause burst out. They had all wanted to put Amelia in her place ever since she joined the company. How marvellous to see it done with such panache!

Sitting rigidly on her desk, Amelia tried to remember what it had felt like to be respected by these men. Or had they always felt this way?

10

It was the following morning. Amelia had turned up for work punctually, as Mr Smith had commanded; in fact, she had been standing there for almost an hour when her new boss swaggered through the door.

He looked her up and down, noting that she was dressed... slightly differently from her familiar power ensemble. She was wearing a pale yellow cardigan, unbuttoned so low down that he could see the cups of her bra, and a microscopically short pleated skirt. Her hair was tied up in pigtails with yellow ribbons, completing a maidenly, schoolgirlish look.

And it wasn't just Amelia's hair that was tied up. Her wrists and elbows were bound tightly behind her back, and there was a strict harness of black ropes around her chest, which rather accentuated her breasts. She had persuaded one of the secretaries... one of the

other

secretaries, that is, to bind her, insisting on all of the cords being drawn as tight as possible to ensure she had absolutely no hope of escape.