Subjugating Sarah Ch. 01

Author's note: This is a prequel series to my comics series "Sarah the Office Slave," which you can find here on Literotica. I thought the massive gap between how Sarah starts out here and who she is in the comics would be an interesting character development to explore. This series will explore how Sarah, the only woman in the office, becomes its shared slave, and how she slowly comes to desire subjugation in a male-dominated environment. Hence, the story will deal with BDSM, degradation, and themes of sexism, namely the inner conflict of a feminist-minded woman vs her submissive desires. Read at your own discretion.

I gasped. "How fucking dare you?!" I almost screamed.

I didn't wait a moment. I just stormed out of the office room and walked down the hallway angrily. Mark asked me if I was O.K, and I just said that I was going home. My day was far from over, and I was supposed to leave at 6, but I didn't care. I was too angry to care.

Back home, I threw myself on my couch, raging. I just couldn't believe what had happened. Five of my colleagues, men I'd worked with four years, had just suggested the most... insulting offer imaginable.

"It's your own fault, Sarah," I told myself. Had I not gotten drunk that other evening, they would have never come up with this disgusting offer.

You see, a week or two before that, we were in a bar after work. A few beers later, I was discussing my sexual life for some reason. As far as they knew, I might have been asexual, because that's how I acted in the office. But to their surprise, tomboy, masculine, strong and scary Sarah had once had a sexual life.

"The most boring one," I explained to them as we kept on drinking.

I had been in the same relationship for five years with a very nice, polite man. And those two words described the full extent of his personality. He didn't understand nor wanted to understand anything in sexuality beyond the most vanilla of sex.

"But me," I continued, "I've always been into power games. Super kinky domination stuff you know?"

"You like being dominant?" Mark asked.

I actually laughed out loud, which surprised the guys. Around them, I was always a cold, tough person. In my experience, that's what it took to be respected as the only woman in an otherwise all-male office. But now the alcohol was affecting me.

"Me? Dominant? I've always fantasized about being completely subjugated. Not just dominated. I'm not just turned on by the idea of a man pulling my hair. I like the idea of male authority subjugating me utterly and completely, putting me in my place to the point where I have no power. At all."

I told them about the previous office I had worked at. There too, I had been the only female, but the dozen men there loved to tease me about being the only woman, and would make sexist jokes, like me having to go make them coffee while the men talked.

"And I still did it," I explained. "I was offended, sure. I was the only woman fighting really hard to be respected as an equal among the men. But at the same time... Urgh... Sometimes it just turned me on to take on a submissive attitude and serve the men."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," George said. "It's not like you crawled under the table and gave them head."

Drunk me blushed and did a little laugh. "I wish I had."

The guys looked at me dumbfounded. Obviously, this wasn't the tough, bossy bitch Sarah they knew. But I was drunk, and now the secret was out. Under all those layers of cold, terrifying authority, there was a slut desperate for total submission.

Anyway, cut to some days later, and some of the office guys approached me with an offer. One that they thought would satisfy everybody, and bring up morale in the office.

"You know, we were thinking..." Peter began mumbling. "Since you said you have submissive fantasies and everything..."

Aaaand... that's how we get to my reaction at the beginning. What was the offer?

That since I was into being submissive to men, we could apply a new hierarchy system to the office. That I'd become the office submissive, inferior by default to all the guys.

I wouldn't be allowed to wear any clothes whatsoever. I'd be kept completely naked while the men would still wear suits as a symbol of our new power dynamic. I'd have to remain obedient and have a submissive attitude.

Basically, what they were offering was a reorganization of the office's hierarchy based on gender as the main factor. Gender segregation. Men having power just because they're men, and the only woman having none just because she was a woman. Of course, that's not how they put it, but that's what I was hearing.

I was obviously enraged. How insulting. These men had known me for four years. They knew I had spent all my career in both this office and the previous one being the only woman in male-dominated environments. And now they were offering me the most humiliating, insulting scenario imaginable.

I was enraged at them, but also at myself. Truth is, I was angry at myself because how turned on I was just thinking about it. I imagined myself not allowed to wear clothes because I was the office girl, while the men all wore suits. I imagined the intense feeling of humiliation it would generate...

No. I had to stop thinking about it. It was ridiculous. So, I went into bed and slept. Next morning, I'd tell the guys to never think about it again, and neither would I.

But then I dreamed in the middle of the night. I was in the office. All my colleagues surrounded me. I was overwhelmed by a sea of black suits. Authority and manly testosterone, all of it towering above me and making me feel more submissive than I ever had. In the dream, I wasn't allowed to talk. I wasn't allowed to participate in any of the decisions. My place was simply that. Nothing else.

The men didn't even acknowledge my existence. They went on discussing everything, having all the power and the authority, and I was just there... in my place. Naked, vulnerable, feminine and dominated.

I wasn't angry, or irritated, or disgusted. In fact, I was calmer than I ever had been for years. In the dream, as I stayed silent on the ground, accepting my place fully... I felt like I belonged there.

Suffice to say that when I woke up in the morning, my mind was right fucked.

I went to work next day and spoke to no one. I did my work on my computer, ignored everyone, and didn't go to the break room for lunch. The whole day was spent segregating myself from the rest of the office, from the men. I kept repeating this to myself: "forget about the fucking dream. Forget about the fucking offer. Stop letting it bother you."

But I couldn't forget about it. I couldn't forget how the dream had felt. At some point during the day, the thoughts overwhelmed me, and I had to close my eyes and do some deep breaths.

In the dream, I was naked. Naked while all my colleagues of four years were in suits. The only woman in the office was kept in a status of complete and total inferiority.

And with all of that, with all this dark, disturbing shit... I could still recognize that it had been a dream. Not a nightmare, mind you. A dream.

And not just a dream in the physiological sense of sleep. A dream in the higher sense. All my life, I'd experienced nothing but the most boring sexual life, relegating all my fantasies to the realm of imagination and porn. Ever since puberty had hit me, it had been my dream to experience something like this. My biggest fantasy. Complete and total subjugation at the hands of manly men putting me in my place. And it wasn't like the office guys were not attractive. I had been attracted to all of them at some point during those four years.

I turned away from my desk and looked at the window, outside. I had been looking at that same fucking parking for four years. I had worn the same masculine office clothing for eight years, and carried that same masculine attitude in the hopes that my femininity wouldn't make me seem weaker. And in that process, I had lost all connection to my femininity. Not wearing makeup, acting masculine and not being girly wasn't natural: it was an artificial persona I had created so I could blend into a man's world unnoticed and unsegregated.

"You've just turned 30," I thought to myself. I had been doing the same thing for 8 years. Where was my life going exactly? What was I supposed to go on doing? Keep on living the same life for the next decade until I turned 40, and experience nothing new?

I groaned so loud; they might have heard me outside of my office. "The fuck is happening to you, Sarah?"

***

Some time passed, and the day was over. I walked over to the coffee room, where I knew everyone would be. It was now clear to me, given the demeanor of everyone, that all the guys had discussed it. They had all decided, together, to bring the suggestion to me.

The men all saw me, and were visibly uncomfortable.

"Sarah, we want to apologize..." James began saying.

I raised my hand. It's what I always did when I wanted silence, and the men always obeyed. They did so again.

"Save it," I said. I took a deep breath. "So... the arrangement is that I... wouldn't be allowed to wear clothes in the office anymore..."

The men nodded. I looked at them. All were attractive enough, and they looked super manly and strong wearing those suits. They looked like walking symbols of authority. I imagined myself completely naked, surrounded by them. A walking manifestation of female submission surrounded by male power.

"We can try something out," I said. "I'll be here tomorrow evening, like always. Just wait for me here."

***

The next day, it was Friday, 6PM, and the work hours were over. But as was our tradition, we'd always spend some time relaxing in the recreational room, having a few coffees. All the men were gathered there, talking to each other about this and that. No one noticed me enter the room at first.

I had really hoped they'd just notice me, but somehow, they were all too distracted by one another's conversations. I had taken a few shots of vodka before that, but even then, my courage didn't seem enough for the task at hand. My heart was beating, fast, a pulse going faster and faster as every bit of my body had goosepimples tickling it. Finally, I cleared my throat and opened my mouth.

There I stood, wearing nothing but high heels and the most revealing, sexualizing lingerie I had bought in the morning. I had even put on some makeup, something I never did around them. My goal had always been to make myself as masculine as possible, to be as unfeminine as possible so that I would never become "the Other," "the Girl", "the Female."

And now I looked like a Victoria's Secret slut in front of all my colleagues.

"Hey Sarah," they began saying.

"You look really good," Sam said.

With rage still covering my face, I stepped forward and joined the group. Normally, we'd spend some time there then go to some bar somewhere, but obviously, that wouldn't happen with me dressed like a prostitute, so we just spent the evening there, inside the office building, drinking coffee while my dozen or so colleagues of four years ogled my half-naked body.

Despite my very apparent aggressivity, we were ultimately just talking, hanging out. But the dynamic had shifted entirely. I wasn't "one of them," anymore. The whole gender-blind dynamic was out the window. My identity and role within the situation were now utterly defined by me being a woman; the only woman in the office.

In one way, I felt empowered. I had never felt so sexy and beautiful in my life. I knew I had all the men enthralled, and that all the focus was on me. In another way, I also felt humiliated. I was completely sexualized and subjected to the all-permeating male gaze all around me, strutting around like a bared slut while the men kept their full dignity and authority.

After an hour or two, we all left the office. I covered my half-naked body with my coat and drove back home. I was so angry. Angry at them. At their stupid idea. At the fact that all this time, I had genuinely believed them to be entirely gender-blind towards me, only for them to reveal a desire to see me inferior to all of them, submissive and naked, the very moment I opened up about my fantasies.

All this time, I had thought these men viewed me as one of them. After four years of working with them, hanging out with them, spending time with them, I had come to believe that my womanhood was not an important concept to them anymore. An abstraction at best. Turns out they easily fantasized about me serving them coffees in the nude while they sat in power.

I was angry at them for that. But even more angry at myself for being turned on just imagining that scenario: me serving them coffees in the nude. I was angry at how much, deep down, I'd enjoyed strutting around in lingerie around them. I only got angrier once I arrived home and realized that I couldn't help but masturbate because of how aroused I was.

I barely slept that night. My mind was too confused to allow that. I was now realizing... that I enjoyed things I had vowed all my life to fight.

I went to sleep eventually. Night turned into morning, and I went to the office. I sat down in the cafeteria, alone, as I was usually the first one to arrive. The long smoky curls steaming out of my coffee cup lulled me into deep thought for a while, until Lucas and Dan entered.

"Hey," they said, sitting in front of me. "You alright?"

"Yeah..." I mumbled, playing with my coffee cup. "I was just thinking... you know, your backwards, misogynistic offer that would be too sexist even for the 50's?"

"Yeah?" Dan said, chuckling at the venomous sarcasm I displayed.

"Well, it's never happening. Ever. I'm not getting naked, and I'm certainly not going to act submissive towards anyone. However..." I sighed and took a sip of coffee, maybe hoping it would give me courage like alcohol.

"Well... I guess I could work in lingerie once or twice a week."