Author's note: Nothing about this premise broadly makes any sense on multiple levels, and neither do most of the details, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.
Warning: It contains misogynistic and demeaning language and acts throughout, as well as extremely unethical sexual relationships, and is profoundly dumb.
* * * * *
"This is some bullshit!" The shout was strained and high-pitched, deafening in volume but too whiny to truly intimidate. The man, who had been seated in his fraying office chair was now standing with his palms pressed so hard to the desk that his knuckles were white, contrasting his beetroot face.
"That's the decree, old man. Right from the top brass." Came the much softer reply of a younger man leaning on an office cabinet. "They've already hired this girl, one Angela Bookhill, to come and 'assess our workplace culture and hiring standards.'"
A third man sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically at that. "Well, so they have, so what? We'll just give her a course of the vids and she'll be on her knees in no time. With any luck, she'll be a good fuck - we could use some new meat around the place anyway."
The second man tutted. "She'll be reporting directly to the higher-ups. You think we can send one of our office bimbos to deliver a report on sexism to upper management without raising suspicion?"
The first man sank deeply back into his chair, deflating as quickly as he had blown up. "We do everything for these people, work ourselves to the bone, by all measures we're incredibly successful, and this is how they reward us? And for what, having a little fun at work? It's not enough to let women into the workplace, we have to promote them ahead of decent, hard-working men, and sit on our hands like goddamn monks?!" There was a pause as the old man ran out of breath and sat staring down into his lap and panting. Finally, he looked beseechingly to the second man who had spoken. "For god's sake, what do we do?" He was close to tears.
A slight smile spread on the second man's face as he stood up straight from the cabinet and began to approach the other two. "There is another approach I've been considering..."
---
Ange stood outside the entrance to the shining glass tower, waiting to finish her phone call before entering. "Don't worry, I'll take care of dinner tonight, it'll be ready before you get in."
There was a sigh of relief from her partner Em on the other side of the line. "That'd be fantastic. Are you sure? It's your first day at the new office, I'm sure you'll have plenty to do..."
"Em, if you have to go across town to get this thing fixed, then that's what you have to do. Don't worry about me, I can handle an extra night on dinner duty every now and again." She reassured her with confidence.
"You're the best Ange, I'll see you this evening. Love you!" The two of them shared an air kiss goodbye through the phone, and Ange turned to enter the reception after hanging up. Em worked from home as a freelance journalist, but today she had to be out of the house on a number of engagements, and by the time she was done the only shop open to repair a coffee-damaged laptop was well out of her way. Ange didn't mind a few extra chores at home, given that most of the time they both pulled their weight. She had a girlfriend who loved her and a job that she was passionate about, it would take more than a few minor inconveniences to sour her mood.
---
The perfunctory tour of the office was performed efficiently by a generic middle-aged man in a well-fitted suit, who introduced himself as John. "...and finally, here is your office. Nicole here will act as your secretary, she'll help you contact the people you need to speak to, find any data you might need, et cetera."
The beautiful young woman he was referring to stood as he spoke, leaving from behind her desk and moving to greet Ange. She was dressed to impress, with makeup in a style more commonly suited to nights out than a day's work as an office drone. Her white shirt was unbuttoned far enough to suggest a hint of cleavage and she wore a fairly daring but stylish thigh-length navy skirt. "Great to meet you! I prefer to be called Nikki!" Her voice was carefree and confident as she took Ange's hand between both of hers.
"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Nikki." Ange responded with a practiced balance of warmth and professionalism, freeing her hand and lowering it. "I'm looking forward to working with you." She spoke honestly -- Nikki's forward nature was a clear contrast to Ange's reserved professionalism, but she was clearly very friendly, the kind of person that anyone could easily get along with.
John was already beginning to leave. "There's an introductory video waiting for you in your emails, Angela. We would ask you to watch it over first thing, and then proceed as you see fit from there. We're allowing you total freedom in your work here."
Ange raised a sceptical eyebrow. Doubtless there would be conflict and bureaucratic red-tape aplenty once she really began to dig into the structures and systems of the workplace - no entrenched patriarchal organisation would allow itself to be properly examined and reformed without a serious fight. However, that would all come soon enough. For now, she responded with a simple, "Thank you John, I'll get right to work."
---
The video began with a cacophonous thumping noise that resembled the sound of a speaker being unplugged at full volume and, thanks to the expensive-seeming headphones the company provided as a courtesy, seemed to explode from inside her own skull, accompanied by the screen plunging suddenly into a shocking blackness. Instantly Ange's senses were overwhelmed, and she fell out of her conscious state and was left staring thoughtlessly at the blank monitor for a few moments. Then, sound began to gradually fade in - feminine moaning and sighing that sent suggestive shivers right through Ange, causing her own breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate. Images to match the eroticism of the audio began to play, the soft curves of a series of gorgeous women presenting themselves before the entranced victim, their wide eyes begging, full lips parting wetly as they gasped and groaned lewdly. A voice spoke directly to Ange's core, throaty and sensual in its intonation.
"Sex and power. Power and sex."
The submissive nature of the footage that was nesting itself in Angela's subconscious became apparent. Every girl on screen was looking up at Ange from below, moving to display themselves better, or in some other way begging to be objectified and used. The noises increased in volume and intensity, orgasmic cries from left, right and centre inflaming Ange's arousal.
"You have power. You deserve sex."
The mantras repeated themselves for the full ten-minute run time of the video, the voice relishing the pronunciation of each syllable. The girls danced and played in front of Ange's wide-open eyes, which were moving rapidly beyond her own conscious control, greedily devouring every inch of skin they could see. The breathy moans of the temptresses began to form words themselves at some point, all begging invitations towards Ange directly -
