Choose your punishment

Once again, I sat right on Ulla’s desk.

I was surprised it wasn’t booby trapped yet.

She lifted her brow just enough to give a mean sideways glance.

“Writing another masterpiece?” I asked her with my witty flair.

“…actually I am. And since final versions of all articles have to be submitted tomorrow, it’s too late for you to ask me to change it,” she reasoned eloquently.

“What’s it about, then?”

She stopped writing and sighed. “I’m comparing latest TikTok fashion trends and making arguments about which ones will last, which ones won’t.”

“Sure sounds like a masterpiece. Does your living room shelf have room for all those Pulitzer prices?”

“Fuck you. This is our job. Try learning it.”

“Huh. Well, sure sounds like you gave up on that feminism shit like I asked you to.”

Ulla was silent, and just returned back to her typing. It was easy to tell how much she hated hearing me describe it like that, but she smartly swallowed her complaints.

“…I mean you did, right?” I continued, this time with more interrogating tone.

Ulla muttered something that sounded vaguely affirmative.

She was a bad liar.

“Hey, do me a favor,” I said as I stood up and walked behind her. “I want you to do a word search on your document.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to see how many feminism- or feminist-words the article currently has.”

She turned around in her chair. Fast.

“I-I’ve got no time for that! I’m on a strict deadline, and-“

“Do. It.”

I sounded deadly serious.

A small staredown ensued.

I had the advantage, though. Not only was I her new boss, I looked a lot more intimidating standing up, staring her down like the pathetic worm that she now was.

“Fine. Fuck it. Let’s get it over with,” she grumbled. (ULLA: +2SP) (+28P)

The word search turned up…

23 feminist-words?

And 27 feminism-words?

For God’s sake, the whole article was currently only 5000 words. How did she even manage that?

I looked at her with deep disappointment. Didn’t even have to fake it.

“…Okay, well, I can remove a couple from here and there. Would that be okay with you, mr. anti-feminist?” she asked. Very rudely, I might add.

I grabbed a chair from Sophie’s desk and dragged in front of Ulla. Then I sat down, looking at her quietly.

She could tell I was about deliver some bad news.

“Ulla, I think this is probably not working out anymore. I’m going to have to fire you.”

She stood up in instant rage.

“WHAT? You can’t do that! Only Maria can do that! And she would never fire me like this! I can call her right now and-“

“Do you really think Maria’s in charge? A woman?”

That simple thought suddenly stopped Ulla’s rant, and emptied her head completely. Her rage disappeared as she didn’t know what to say next.

According to her “OPPRESSED FOR REAL”-trait, it would be really hard for her to believe that a woman was completely in charge of anything in this world.

“I talked to the men above her,” I continued. “They have okayed this firing a long time ago. I just kept you on because I hoped you would eventually change. I see now that it’s impossible.”

“W-Wait, h-hold on, I-I need to think-“

I stood up. “Don’t worry about your stuff. We’ll send them to your house in a couple of days. Right now it’s probably better if you just exit the building.”

“I-I, no, I can’t just-“

“Ulla, it’s decided. There’s nothing you can do about this.”

Ulla looked around her desk. Around the room. Probably still having trouble believing this was the last time she would see it.

Eventually, she had to get over her denial. And she did. Fairly quickly. Okay. So she was fired now. So what? She’d get a job elsewhere. …Right?

The obvious question that would enter her brain next, was…

“Jack… The- The stuff you ta-talked about in the elevator back then… you know, the… The brotherhood…” I put a finger in front of my lips, to signify that using that word was a hush-hush thing. “Oh right, sorry… But… They won’t… Block me from getting another writing job… right?”

“Nope.”

She sighed, relaxing a little.

“Although…” I continued, “They won’t help you either. And it’s almost literally impossible getting a writing job anywhere without their support.”

“W-What? Why?! I- I haven’t done anything-”

I chuckled. “Of course you have! You’ve just been fired for insubordination. That kinda stuff goes in your permanent record. And I’m not going to alleviate that in any way. Why? Because you’ve been a complete bitch to me all the years I’ve worked here. So that’s zero recommendations from me. Also… Do you think the brotherhood likes… feminists? You’ve made it painfully clear that’s what you are, from the hundreds of articles you’ve written. So yeah. You getting another writing job will take more than a miracle.”

The weight of all this was hitting Ulla so hard, she had to sit back down.

I leaned over her, just basking in my authoritative superiority. “But hey, there’s one job market that the brotherhood has no say over. Try making your luck there.”

She swallowed. “W-What? Which one?”

“Garbage management and cleaning services,” I said with an evil smirk.

Ulla had way too much pride to ever go for either one. The arrogant bitch thought those professions were beneath her.

As I stepped away from her, turning my back to her, it took less than one second for Ulla to return back to the negotiating table.

“Okay! Fine! OKAY! I’ll remove every single word or thought about feminism in the article! It will be completely ideology-free! Just TikTok fashion stuff! Please! Just… Let me keep my job, okay? I’ll never… bring that… stuff… back again.”

Wow. That last part looked really, really painful to say.

Although I’m sure she didn’t meant it. She’d keep her head down and if they one day replaced me, she’d start her feminist-propaganda back up again.

I gave her an interested, thoughtful smile.

“So… you are saying you’d stick to my rules? And only my rules?”

She looked down, defeated.

“Y-yeah. I guess…” (ULLA: +4SP) (+32SP)

“Do you really, really mean that?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Huh. Interesting. Because, according to my rules, what you did just now, trying to write about stuff I had ordered you not to… You’d deserve a punishment. Am I right?”

The realization hit her.

She was hopelessly under my powers again.

I’d get to do whatever I wanted with her.

And she pretty much had to accept it. This room had a trait now. THE DUNGEON. That meant that the subjects inside were more willing to accept different types of punishments.

She had no chance to fight back.

“I… Yes, okay, I guess, but… please don’t make it… you know?”

“Excuse me?” I grabbed the armrests of her chair forcefully, and leaned right in her face. “Did you just fucking dare suggesting what kind of punishments I’m allowed or not allowed to give?”

That caught her by surprise. She jumped back in her chair.

“What? I… no! Just… No!”

“Okay. Good.”

I slowly stood up, still watching her carefully. She was almost trembling now.

“I’m not doing this for me, you know. I truly believe in the punishment system. I’m sure it will make you a better writer for the magazine in due time.”

My hand reached out, carefully stroking her cheek. She almost pulled away, but was too afraid to.

“Oh I’m sure it will,” I continued. Trying to sound as slimy as I could.

Why? Because it was fun.

Damn her cheek was so soft. And warm…

“Follow me,” I said as I took my hand off her cheek and began walking out of the room.

It took a minute, but soon she followed me.

I had a special place I was going to take her.

No, not the closet. Two people in there was enough.

Although I made sure we would walk by it. I tried listening in on what was happening there.

Sounded like some hushed discussion. Damn. I guess the audition hadn’t even started yet.

…I hoped it would though. Could Sophie… actually say “no”?

“Where are we going?” Ulla asked. I didn’t bother answering.

It was time to take the good old stairs. All the way down to the basement.

My new favorite place.

While we were descending the stairs, something special happened.

(SOPHIE: +10SP) (+75SP)

Excellent. That had to mean only one thing.

Sophie took the deal.

And I’d have something fun to watch later today.

Finally, we reached the basement.

The door opened with its usual creak.

And Ulla had her first impression of the place.

It was quite something.

Yesterday… While Gretchen was partying with Mimi, and the building was empty of other people… I brought this stuff in.

All purchases from the SexPit. Thanks to Gretchen’s bank account.

I wanted to make the basement my actual bdsm dungeon.

For now, it seemed the best place for it.

Yeah, I know. I took a crazy risk bringing this stuff here. What if somebody noticed? What if the janitor walked in?

Well, turns out the janitor is a very accommodating man.

I slipped him a few hundred dollars and the place was mine. For a month, at least. And he wouldn’t tell a soul what went on in here.

Seemed like a pretty good deal.

Ulla was looking around everywhere, nervously and in shock.

This might end up badly if I don’t start talking right now.

“Here’s the deal, Ulla. I’m a good guy. I’m going to let you choose your punishment. You have two choices.”

“W-What is all this-“

“Shut up. I said you have two choices. Choice one. We’ll spend the next hour in here, and you’ll let me do anything I want with your body.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. She was shocked, perturbed, indignant, etc.

“Or, choice number two. You’ll put this on.”

I pulled up an outfit that was hanging on the wall.

A bunnygirl outfit.

She looked at the outfit in disgust.

“…And you’ll wear it for the rest of the day. You will also follow me everywhere I go today, and be my assistant. You’ll do your best to please me with everything I want, and if I think you’re nice and sweet and… flexible enough, you’ll be forgiven for your sins.”

Ulla was running low on her RAM space. All this information was overflowing her brains, and she couldn’t stop blinking.

“So… which will it be, then?”