The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Since I was young, I loved computers.

I loved everything about them. The multitude of information all at my fingertips. The possibilities were limitless. That’s why I became a programmer. And I loved it. I’d started at a young age, learning the basics on the bulky laptop my parents bought me. It felt like magic.

By the time I was in college, I was already top of my class. One of my professors, Dr. Tygar, had high hopes for me. “Gabrielle, if talent was all that mattered you could get any job you wanted,” he told me. “But the tech world is a male dominated industry.” I didn’t want to believe him at the time, but I came to experience it first-hand.

After college, I found a job at a local tech company in Austin.

That’s where I met Mark. It was a small start-up, nothing special. The work was basic, a bit elementary if you ask me, but it was a chance for me to prove myself. To get established and show the world what I was capable of.

Unfortunately, the guys there were complete assholes. I’d dealt with my fair share of jerks in college, but this was a whole different level.

Being a woman in the workforce is difficult. Being a woman in the tech industry is even more difficult. And it’s even more difficult when you have F-cup breasts.

Guys in programming aren’t known to be the most socially aware people and as a result there were always a lot of awkward stares.

I don’t know if most guys realize how obvious it is or if they just didn’t care. Probably both. But no matter how much I dressed down, baggy sweatshirts, whatever I could find to try and hide my figure, it never really helped.

I’m not ashamed of my body, far from it. I believe every woman should love their own unique figure, no matter how big or small. But I wanted to be taken seriously at work. I didn’t want my breasts to be my defining feature, I wanted to be known as the best programmer, not “the one with the big boobs”.

The harassment at my job was constant. This one guy, Zack, would call me TII, which when confronted about it he claimed was due to my immense talent at calculations, but it was basically an open secret what he actually meant.

“Tits Indisputably Included”.

Very funny, asshole.

But Mark was different. He was kind and treated me like an actual colleague. Not to mention he was handsome, in a nerdy kind of way. I worked up the courage to ask him on a date one day and we’d been together for nearly four years. He’s my best friend; someone I could talk about anything with and never get bored. I don’t know whether I’ll ever get married or not but he’s the one I want to be with for the rest of my life.

That’s why it hurt so much when I found out about the promotion.

The position of Lead Programmer had opened and not only was I passed over for the job, but our boss offered to position to Mark instead. I felt betrayed by my own boyfriend. It wasn’t fair.

Not to sound conceited but I was the best programmer in the office by far. Much better than him, and he knew it.

Had I been a man it wouldn’t even be a question; I would’ve been promoted a long time ago. But no, talent didn’t mean anything when your looks were a major handicap.

How are you supposed to lead a team when they don’t respect you. It’s beyond ridiculous. And for Mark to just happily accept the position? Like it was no big deal?

He should’ve turned it down. He should’ve told them to promote me instead.

I’d never been betrayed so badly, and I’ve had my fair share of betrayals over the years. I’d been cheated on (twice), and even had an ex leak topless pictures of me online.

Those all hurt a lot, but this was somehow even worse. It felt like a stab in the back from the one person I thought I could trust.

We fought for hours. Then, we didn’t speak to each other for days. Neither of us were willing to admit we could possibly be wrong.

A few days later, we finally decided to talk things out. About the job, the promotion, the harassment: Everything. About how unhappy I’d been at work; how unhappy I’d been in general, and so we came up with an idea.

We decided it was time for a change. Move somewhere new. Somewhere more liberal. Find a job where I can be taken seriously as a programmer. Obviously Texas was awful. Even if Austin was a liberal city, it was still a conservative state. One where a lot of men held onto traditional values and felt a woman’s place was in the kitchen or barefoot and pregnant.

We needed to go somewhere more progressive, more open minded. Somewhere where sexual harassment in the workplace was just a regretful thing of the past. I’d heard lots of good things about Silicon Valley. Tons of tech companies there had women in leadership roles.

Before long, we were packing all our things into the U-Haul and heading to California.

I thought the move would be good for us.

Things seemed great at first. I’d found a job within just a few days, much quicker than I expected. A big corporation known as Vision. It was no Google or Meta, but it was definitely an improvement.

I thought things would be better at a big corporate gig. That the guys in Texas had only got away with it because it was just a little startup, and that a business as big as Vision needed to protect itself from any potential lawsuits.

Turns out I was wrong. It was just as bad, worse even.

“Hey, toots, you get that file I sent you?” Michael, one of my co-workers had asked.

“Don’t call me toots,” I scowled.

“Lighten up. You’d be a lot prettier if you smiled.”

I shot him a menacing glare. He’s such a dick.

The work itself was great. It was finally the challenge I’d been looking for. I’d been too much on autopilot for so long and finding a job I could feel fully engaged with had been great. So why then did every guy in the tech industry have to be such a sexist pig?

I thought there’d be more female representation in Silicon Valley, instead I was the only woman on my team. Sure, there some other women in the office, but not many, and they weren’t programmers.

The guys there would all call me demeaning nicknames like “Darlin”, or “Toots”, or “Babe”. Some of them would even wolf-whistle when I walked in.

At least the guys in Texas were somewhat subtle about it. I tried to just bury myself in my work and ignore them the best I could. That’s when it happened.

I noticed something weird was going on that day. People seemed to be looking at me differently, talking about me just out of view.

When I was nineteen, I dated this guy, Greg. I naively made the mistake of sharing nudes with him and after we broke up, he leaked them online as a form of revenge.

Luckily, I was able to catch it quick. I spent what little money I had at the time hiring this company that combs through the internet and sends takedown notices to any websites with the pics. After a week or two, my nudes were nowhere to be found… until today.

I stared at my email. In a new message were my nudes. I looked at the heading. They were forwarded to everyone in the office. What the fuck…

I was so upset. I ran straight to the HR office, but they told me without knowing who originally sent them out there was nothing they could do except “open an investigation”. “Great, how helpful,” I said sarcastically.

I thought the stares were bad before but after the pictures leaked some of the guys in the office became so incredibly blatant about it. The harassment just got worse and worse. I’d become the butt of all their sexist jokes.

After that, my nudes showed up as my desktop wallpaper. Someone had changed it when I wasn’t around. Then the next day, they popped up in a PowerPoint presentation by our team. The guys thought it was so funny, they were all laughing. I can’t stand them.

After that my company avatar, my business cards, they’d even printed them out on coffee mugs. The pics were everywhere. Every time I went to HR and every time they told me they’d “add it to the file,” always dismissing my concerns.

It was unbelievable how little they seemed to care. If this wasn’t sexual harassment, then what was? Mark told me I should contact a lawyer, but I didn’t want it to come to that.

I just wanted it all to stop.

Silicon Valley is big, but it’s not that big. Last thing I wanted was to be known as the woman who sued her employer, I’d never find a job in tech ever again.

The constant harassment was so incredibly draining. I’d even went shopping with Mark and bought bulkier sweaters, the most plain, boring, purposefully unattractive clothes I could possibly find, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done and nearly the entire office had already seen me topless.

Every day, I went home exhausted. It was really starting to take its toll on my mental health. Mark was supportive, like always, but he didn’t get what it was like. Still, I’m glad I had him to talk to. At least he was good at cheering me up.

The harassment continued. One day I was grabbing some papers from the printer when I felt a hand smack across my butt.

“What the fuck,” I yelled, turning around.

It was Michael. I was furious. Steam was practically pouring out my nostrils. He was smiling smugly at me, that stupid face of his. I couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Sharing my nudes was bad enough but now being physically assaulted?

I immediately marched over to the HR department and told them what happened. They told me they’d take care of it. Finally, something they couldn’t just ignore. Over the next several days I waited, expecting him to be fired, or at the very least suspended. But like everything else, nothing ever happened with it.

I walked back to my desk feeling defeated. Sitting on top of a stack of papers was a colorful pamphlet. Along the top it read: WOMEN IN TECH. I think there was a copy in my orientation packet, though I’d never actually bothered to look through it. I picked it up and scanned through the pages. “Networking mixers, workplace rights… sexual harassment seminars”.

This was just what I needed. Maybe they could help me, or at least give me some advice. This new discovery lit a fire inside of me. I had almost given up hope that things would ever get better. I added the number to my phone and tucked the pamphlet away.

I set up an appointment for later that week. I was originally supposed to meet with Flynn Parson, the CEO, however, when I arrived, I was informed he was currently out of town and instead I’d be meeting with his number two, Sylvia. The secretary at the front desk handed me a tablet and told me to fill out all my information while I waited.

After some time, I was led over to Sylvia’s office.

“Hello, Gabrielle?” she asked with a smile.

I couldn’t help but completely unload about the whole situation. Sylvia listened intently as I was on the verge of tears from explaining the constant harassment I’d been dealing with. Her gaze was locked on to mine.

She was super understanding. It felt really good pouring out all my pent-up feelings. Mark always did the best he could, but he could never really understand what it was like to be a woman in this industry.

“So, can you help me?” I finally pleaded. “I’m at my wits end. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling at me. “You’re not the first woman to deal with these kinds of issues and unfortunately you won’t be the last. Women in any male dominated industry have always had to deal with these kinds of issues. That’s what we’re here for.”

“And if things don’t improve, we can help you find a different job.” Sylvia continued. “But I’m confident it won’t come to that.”

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Just talking with her helped lower the massive amount of stress I’d been dealing with. It felt good knowing that someone finally had my back.

Sylvia told me about an event they had going on this week. A social mixer where I could meet other women in the tech world.

“That would be great,” I told her.

I left her office hopeful that things were finally going to improve.

A few days later, I arrived at the mixer. The event was in the evening. It was fairly small, a couple dozen women were huddled together in various smaller cliques. I’d always been shy when it came to meeting new people. I made my way over to the table with drinks and snacks and poured myself some punch. I noticed another woman standing by herself next to the table.

“Is this your first time here?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she meekly replied.

“Me too. I’m Gabrielle.” I reached out to shake her hand.

“Jennifer.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

We talked for a bit, about the companies we both worked for, and the harassment we both had been dealing with. It was nice meeting someone else with the same problems, it made me feel less alone.

After some time, two other women walked over to us. One of them introduced herself as Heather and told us she’d been coming to these for just a few weeks or so. She gushed about how great these events had been in helping her fit in at her workplace. It gave me hope for the future.

I asked Heather if there was any kind of advice to help us deal with the guys at work. She thought for a moment before saying: “Women in Tech should be team players. It’s important to keep the people you work with happy.” It took a moment for me to process what she had said.

The words echoed around in my mind. My head was spinning with questions. Was that my problem? Had I not been a team player? Perhaps in my attempt to be a top programmer I may have isolated some of my other colleagues. Maybe if I tried to be more of a team player the harassment might stop.

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters,” the woman next to Heather bluntly added. It was a lot to take in all at once, I felt dizzy.

The next week at work I tried applying what I had learned. I tried taking Heather’s advice to be more of a team player. Admittedly it was a difficult task. How am I supposed to be a team player when nobody on the team takes me seriously. “Hey Toots,” Sean said while passing by my desk. I sighed and tried to ignore it.

The next time Michael slapped my ass I took a deep breath and just brushed it off. I needed to try and save my energy for serious issues. I wasn’t going to let them get to me. Maybe if I quit reacting to all the harassment, they’ll get bored and stop.

I became accustomed to attending the weekly Women in Tech events. The next week they held a seminar titled “How to Get Ahead in the Tech World”. It was usually the same couple dozen or so women, with a few new people every week. I was starting to make friends with some of the other women there.

That night, they brought in a guest speaker, a female programmer in her mid 30s. She had worked at two of the Big Five tech companies. She gave a lot of great advice but there was one thing she said that really stood out to me. “Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.”

For some reason, that really stuck with me. I considered the idea for the rest of the night. It made sense, I mean why wouldn’t you use every asset? I mentioned the idea to some of the other women, they seemed to agree. It was hard enough being a woman. You had to do whatever you could to succeed in a male dominated workplace.

That night I stared at myself in the mirror while getting ready for bed. Women in Tech… should use every asset… they have available. The words swirled around in my head. Women in Tech should use every asset they have available. It must’ve been pretty good advice for it to stick with me the way it did.

I looked down at my chest. Were my breasts an asset? It certainly hadn’t felt that way. They had always been more of a hinderance to me being taken seriously at work. Maybe I’d been looking at things the wrong way.

The next Women in Tech seminar there was a well-dressed man making his way around the room. I recognized him as the man on the back of the pamphlet, Flynn Parson. Something about him gave me bad vibes.

“He’s cute,” Heather laughed. He was attractive, there was no denying that. He looked over in our direction and we briefly made eye contact. “Shit,” I whispered, quickly looking down. I snuck a glance back up; his eyes locked onto mine. His dark piercing gaze seemed to look right through me. He was walking over this way.

“Ladies, how are we doing tonight?” He said smiling. “Have you been enjoying these events?”

“Very much!” Heather replied. “They’ve been super useful.”

“They’re amazing,” another woman chimed in.

“So glad to hear it,” he said.

I kept my gaze down at the floor, not wanting to look up at him. There was something about him that made me uncomfortable. I excused myself to the restroom. I felt like I could still feel his gaze on me as I walked away, or maybe I was just imagining things. I decided to text Mark.

“think ill be home early, love you <3”

After, I made my way towards the parking lot. As I opened the door to my car, I heard someone call my name.

“Gabrielle?”

I turned around. It was him. Flynn Parson. We briefly made eye contact. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

“Leaving already?” He asked.

“Unfortunately,” I said. “I’m a bit tired.” Not to mention I was feeling a bit dizzy.

His eyes were like liquid pools. He had an intense gaze that was difficult to look away from. I felt like I could get lost just staring into them.

“You should stay a while longer,” he suggested. “It’s not often I come to these things. When I do I like to get to know all the women.”

He had a point; in all the events I’ve been to this was the first time I’d seen him in person. Usually, it was Sylvia running the events. Maybe I should stay just a bit longer, I certainly didn’t want to seem unfriendly or rude.

I ended up staying for another couple hours. We met back up with some of the other women and discussed some of the techniques we had learned over the past couple weeks. Some of the girls talked about the situations they were dealing with at work. I chose not to disclose my problems as they seemed a bit trivial in comparison. I needed to save my energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters.

When I got back home, Mark was already sleeping. Too bad, I thought. I was really in the mood. It’d been nearly two weeks since we last had sex. I grabbed my vibrator from deep inside the closet. I almost never had to use it. I enjoyed sex with Mark, but I couldn’t always keep up with his sex drive, though I certainly tried.

I came three times that night.

Things at work were beginning to improve. I was putting to use all the great advice Sylvia had given us. That didn’t mean the guys at work stopped making jokes, or stopped with the nicknames, but I felt more like I was in on the joke rather than being the butt of it. Besides, some of them were even a little funny I had to admit.

Likewise, I didn’t let the names bother me. I would’ve preferred that they stopped but since that wasn’t an option, I instead chose to not let myself get mad about it. I can’t control what they do, only how I react to it. For months I had been letting it ruin my day, all over a few little nicknames.

It was also partially my fault. I wasn’t being as much of a team player as I could have been. Part of the reason I felt so isolated was because I’d been choosing to distance myself from everyone else. It was a bit unfair for me to judge them without getting to know them better.

I started making friends with my co-workers, getting to know them better. I learned Michael had a fiancé who was five months pregnant. I talked with Sean about an argument with his girlfriend the night before, something about forgetting her birthday (yikes).

I even talked with Josh about some of the latest news in quantum computing. He knew a lot more about programming than I’d ever given him credit for. Work became so much easier once I started getting along with my co-workers. It’s important to keep the people you work with happy.

Things at home were good too. Now that my mood had improved, our sex life returned to how it was before the move. Maybe even a bit more. I hadn’t realized how much my sour attitude had killed my sex drive these past couple months. I’m sure all the moping I’d been doing wasn’t much of a turn-on for Mark either.

Every week there were a couple of Women in Tech events. I always looked forward to them, eager for new pieces of advice. The other women had a lot of the same problems at their workplaces too, but since coming to these mixers, things had slowly been improving for all of us.

We’d discuss how things were going at work, as well as share whatever advice we could. Some nights they would have a guest speaker, but most times it was just women getting together and socializing. It was exactly what I needed.

Every week a few new faces would pop up. Women who had been having a tough time fitting in at work. A group of us was gathered around one of the new attendees, a girl named Sara. She was fresh out of college and looked like she had been crying earlier that day. Sara was pouring her heart out to us about the guys at her job and just how rude they’d been to her.

When she had finally finished with her story, I looked directly at her. “Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues,” I told her. “Stuff that really matters.” She looked back at me confused, like what I said had been in a completely different language. Maybe that was the wrong moment to try and give advice.

Later that night I talked more with Sylvia. She complimented my outfit. “Women in Tech need to look their best,” she added. “Looking good is feeling good.”

I agreed, of course. Everyone should look their best but especially women. It was important to look nice.

But what I was wearing was nothing special. A pair of jeans and one of the bulky sweaters I had bought back when I first started at Vision. I wasn’t even wearing any make-up.

“That top is so cute on you,” I told her. A V-neck with just a tasteful amount of cleavage. It looked good on Sylvia, but I knew something like that would look obscene on me. “Wish I could get away with wearing something like that,” I mused.

That was another one of the downsides of F-cup breasts, I couldn’t get away with wearing the same cute outfits my friends did without being accused of being an attention whore or a slut.

“Why can’t you?” Sylvia asked, as if the reason wasn’t obvious.

“Well, I mean it would look different on me. It’d attract lots of unwanted attention.” She looked at me with a solemn face, her gaze fixed on me.

Uh oh, had I offended her? Of course, I had. I basically just implied that men wouldn’t pay attention to her. I was about to apologize when she smiled.

“Because of your tits?” She asked.

“Well, because of my breasts, yeah,” I corrected.

“Women in Tech should use every asset they have available,” she reminded me. “There’s no use in hiding your tits,” Sylvia said, as a matter of fact. “Everyone knows they’re there.”

I considered what she had just said for a moment. Another great piece of advice. It was true, no matter how much I tried to hide it, it’s not like guys didn’t realize what was underneath my bulky sweaters. If anything, it only brought more attention to it, made people even more curious as to what was underneath.

That night, I ordered some new clothes online. Nothing too revealing (admittedly a difficult task when you have breasts my size) but it was important for me to look good. I looked at my online cart: a few tops, a cute dress (for outside the office), a couple long skirts. I was happy with my choices. It had been a while since I last bought new clothes, I forgot how fun it could be.

l matched one of the V-necks up with one of my new skirts. Mark had questioned my choice in outfit that morning but after I reminded him that women in tech needed to use all their assets, he seemed to understand. The guys at the office loved my new outfits. It’s important to keep the people you work with happy. I got so many nice compliments. Some of them even wolf whistled when I walked in! Looking good felt good.

In addition to the new clothes, I started doing my make-up every day before work, I didn’t used to wear much. Women in Tech need to look their best, I thought to myself while touching up my eyeliner.

Things at work were going great. It felt so good to be part of a team.

“Hey, Gaby. You want some coffee?” Josh said smiling. He was holding the mug with my topless pic on the side. “You’re so bad, Joshie” I giggled. I wasn’t happy that my topless pics were still being passed around, but boys will be boys. Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters.

I pulled up Instagram during one of my breaks, searching for the Women in Tech page that Heather had told me about. Found it.

I scrolled a few posts down to a picture of me and Heather at one of the mixers. Some of the comments were nice: “Beautiful” and “So cute”.

The rest were a bit lewder, “sexy af”, “who the chick w the big tits” and “MASSIVE”. There’s no use hiding them. Everyone knows they’re there.

I closed Instagram and got back to work.

Flynn Parson showed up again at one of the social mixers a few weeks later. He was talking alone with Heather when Jennifer and I walked up to them.

He looked over in my direction. “Gaby, you came,” he said with a sly smile.

“Course I did,” I replied.

“Jen, you look so nice,” he said.

My eyes immediately locked onto his. He was so charming, so handsome. What an amazing guy. We were all so lucky to have a man like him in charge of the organization. He really knew what it took to succeed as a woman in the tech industry.

“I’m afraid I must get back to my office. Lots to do, just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

He turned to Heather, “Keep up the good work, I’ve heard great things about you from your boss.”

“Thank you, sir,” Heather said giggling, twirling her hair through her finger. Her voice was high pitched and girly.

“And you too Gaby!” He briefly broke the eye contact to sneak a not so brief glance at my chest. “It’s always so nice to see you.” Flynn turned around and walked away.

Jennifer looked over in Heather’s direction. “What was that?”

“…what?” Heather asked, tilting her head to the side. Her voice had returned to normal.

“Thank you, sir!” Jennifer mockingly repeated, attempting to imitate her manner of speaking.

Heather laughed. “Don’t be jealous. Besides, it’s like Mr. Parson said, Women in Tech should be respectful. Without giving respect, how do we expect to be respected in return?”

I felt lightheaded. Jennifer tiled her head to the side. “Women in Tech… should be respectful?” she said meekly. She looked over in my direction.

“Women in Tech… should be respectful,” I agreed, mulling the words over in my head. It made perfect sense. We must first give respect if we wanted to be respected in the workplace.

“Women in Tech should be respectful,” Jennifer repeated, more confidently this time.

That was always one of my biggest problems, first in Texas and now in California. The men at work never seemed to respect me. It’s why I was always passed over when it came to promotions. Maybe it was because I never gave them the respect they deserved. How are you supposed to lead a team if they didn’t respect you? I’d been doing things all wrong.

“Women in Tech are here to please,” Heather added. I felt so dizzy, like that feeling when you stand up too quickly.

“Women in Tech… are here to please,” Jennifer thoughtlessly echoed. I looked directly into her dilated pupils. My mind clung to the idea like it was a stable arm to grab onto to keep from falling over.

“Women in Tech… are here… to please,” I repeated, individually taking in each word. Of course, they were. She was completely right. Their clients, their bosses, their co-workers. Women in Tech are here to please.

Women in Tech are here to please.

The next day at work, Sean stopped off at my desk. “Hey, sweetheart, let me know when you finish up with that code for the backend. I’m working on the final touches,”

“Of course, sir!” I replied. He looked at me confused and smiled. “You look sexy today,” he added.

“Mmm, you think so?” I said leaning over, my cleavage nearly spilling out of my tight V-neck. I noticed the growing bulge pressing against his pants. I couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m glad you like it.” It was important to keep the people you work with happy.

I strutted around the office. All eyes were on me. I had to admit all the attention felt good. For once, I finally found a job where I fit in, where I felt like a part of the team.

I scrolled through Instagram, liking the various posts from my friends. Heather posted a pic of herself in a swimsuit, it had a ton of likes. I had gotten a bunch of new followers too ever since the Women in Tech page tagged me in that picture of me that they put up.

A new post from them showed up in my feed. It read: “Sign up for the Secret Santa. It’s the season of giving and Women in Tech should give more than they receive.” A secret Santa, how fun, I thought. Can’t wait to sign up. I love giving gifts.

At home, Mark seemed to have a problem with the way I talked to my co-workers over the phone. He’d been so judgmental lately, he seemed to have a problem with a lot of the things I’d been doing. But once I explained things to him, he seemed to get it quickly enough. It had been a while since he had worked as a programmer, he probably just forgot it was like for Women in Tech.

I loved pleasing him, making him feel so good with my mouth, with my pussy, even with my tits. Women in Tech are here to please. I’d been so unbelievably horny lately; it was hard to go more than a few hours without thinking of sex.

I had just finished cooking dinner for Mark. Women in Tech should give more than they receive. A burger with some fries on the side. I waltzed into the living room wearing nothing but an apron. Women in Tech need to look their best.

“Thanks, babe.” He said as I handed him the plate. I smiled as I sat next to him, turning the TV on. I rested my legs across his lap while we watched YouTube videos.

The next Tuesday at work, Michael squeezed my butt while I was at the photocopier. “Hey, sexy, you ready for the team-building exercises? You’re on my team.”

“What exercises?” I asked.

“Didn’t you read the memo? They’re supposed to help with morale.”

“I must’ve missed it.” I replied. “I won’t let you down, sir!”

Today’s event was a twerking contest. I was reluctant at first, not wanting to participate but then I quickly remembered the latest post I had seen on Instagram.

Women in Tech need to be competitive.

The words echoed in my mind. There were only a handful of girls in the office who signed up, each of us had one of the guys as our coaches. The rest were going to be the judges. Michael whispered to me. “You got this, Gabs. You have the best ass in the office, now I just need to you to shake it like your life depends on it.”

I was so nervous. I’d never twerked before, especially not in front of a crowd, but I wasn’t going to let my team down. Women in Tech should be team players. Luckily, I was wearing yoga pants and a low-cut top. That should help, I thought to myself.

First up was Jackie. She was skinny with not much of a butt, not that mine was huge or anything but it was something at least. She awkwardly tried twerking, a few of the guys booed, the others laughed. I felt bad for her.

After, that was Michelle. I recognized her from one of the Women in Tech mixers though I had never actually talked with her, she was from a different department at Vision. She was a little chubby but gifted with a big ass, much bigger than mine. She looked as if she had done this before, twerking expertly.

The guys cheered and clapped. Several of the guys were recording with their phones. One last girl went up and gave a respectable performance.

Finally, it was my turn. I had butterflies in my stomach.

“You got this, sugartits” Michael said, patting my ass encouragingly. I nervously walked up to the front of the room and turned around, my back facing the audience of co-workers. There were even a few faces I had never seen before. I bent my legs and got into the squat position. I may not have twerked before, but I’ve always been a quick learner. That’s part of what made me such a great programmer.

Someone whistled and the others laughed. Here goes nothing. I started shaking my butt back and forth, desperately hoping everyone would enjoy the show I was putting on. Women in Tech are here to please.

Some of the guys started to cheer. They liked it! I got into the groove of things, further fueled by the encouragement I was receiving, bouncing my hips, swaying my behind up and down. There was something so arousing about pleasing my co-workers. It was so very satisfying.

A round of applause erupted as I finished. I walked over to Michael and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“How’d I do?” I asked, looking up at him. He was tall, well over six feet. And handsome, I had to admit.

“Toots, you were damn hot,” he replied, smacking my ass again. “I can’t even get my fiancé to do that for me.”

I was beaming with excitement. “Thank you, sir!” The judges deliberated for a few minutes before announcing a winner.

“First place goes to… Gaby!”

I couldn’t believe it, I won! I actually won! A wave of pleasure flowed through my entire body. Some of the other guys patted my ass in congratulations as they left the room. I could sense the heated gazes of jealousy from the other women. I walked over to them and told them I thought they did great too. They politely nodded, clearly holding back contempt for my victory. Women in Tech need to be competitive.

After leaving the conference room, I’d noticed how aroused I’d become from the whole situation. My ass had always been a sensitive area for me. In the bedroom, all it took was a few touches in the right areas to get me going. The combination of putting on a show and the smacks to my rear had really turned me on. I couldn’t wait til I got home. I went into the women’s restroom and fingered myself in one of the stalls. I loudly moaned as I came. It all felt so damn good.

Next Tuesday was strip poker. Little did they know, I played a ton of online poker in college. It was a smaller, more intimate group this time, just the five of us who were working on the same part of the project. These team building exercises were really working, I’d never felt closer to my co-workers.

I ended up winning without having to remove too many of my clothes. Just my jacket, shoes, socks, and finally my pants. My shirt would’ve been next to go but in a stroke of luck I ended up making a flush on the river. Their disappointment was palpable. It was hilarious seeing the guys down to their underwear.

The week after that was a wet t-shirt contest. It was a nice sunny day. The guys had convinced a couple more girls around the office to join this time. One of the women who had called the twerking contest “disgusting and sexist” had apparently decided she was tired of feeling left out. I can’t really blame her. Women in Tech should be team players. I looked over at my competition, we were all wearing tight white shirts.

I knew I had this one in the bag, it was what I was born for. With tits like these, how could I lose? I held my chest up high. One by one, the guys splashed us each with a bucket of water. When it came to my turn, Joshie hurled the bucket in my direction. I shrieked as the freezing water soaked through my clothes, my shirt clinging to my skin. It was even colder than I expected. My shirt was completely see-through. My hard nipples poked through my thin pink bra. They tingled with arousal.

“And the winner is Gaby, the programmer with the biggest tits in Silicon Valley!” The guys all laughed and cheered. I laughed too. Steve walked over and put a sash around my neck, brushing against my sensitive nipples as he did so. I couldn’t help but let out an audible moan of pleasure.

I won again! Mark’s gonna be so proud of me. Thankfully, there was only an hour left of work, it was hard to concentrate on anything with my soaking wet clothes. Next time, I’ll need to bring something else to change into. The sex that night with Mark was best I’d ever had.

I ordered some new clothes online that week. Some skirts, cute tops, even some lingerie. Stuff I was always too afraid to wear before. I always felt like I needed to hide my body to be taken seriously. It was a naïve way of thinking. I hate that I let myself be shamed into hiding for so long. I can be a great programmer and love my body just the way it is, and I wasn’t going to let anyone force me into thinking otherwise.

Everything was going great, so then why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was wrong?

Things at work had been hectic. We were all working hard trying to meet our upcoming deadlines. My new outfits, however, were a huge hit. Everyone loved them, and I loved the way they made me feel. There were also a few new pieces of advice I learned at the mixers over the past few weeks that really helped my outlook at work.

Women in Tech are here to serve. It was true, all programmers were here to serve some kind of role. We’re here in service to the tech companies we work for. What good is our programming skills if they can’t be put to good use, to provide a service to the clients. We’re here to serve.

Women in Tech need to show off their body. Obviously, why wouldn’t you? Everyone knows that Women in Tech need to use every asset available. People seemed to love the new outfits and it’s important to keep the people you work with happy.

Women in Tech appreciate pet names. It means they’re being embraced by the team. I’d long since gotten used to the various nicknames at work as just harmless fun, but after hearing this I realized it was more than that.

I had long ago accepted the names, but for some reason I never truly appreciated them. Once I did, I began noticing a strong feeling of arousal whenever someone said one. All it took was a few pet names to get me to finger myself in the bathroom stall. It was all so much to take in.

Not to mention once my co-workers noticed the affect it had on me, it seemed like they would say them even more than usual. I was so happy to be embraced by my co-workers.

The final piece of advice was the biggest change, told to me directly by Flynn Parson.

Women in Tech love to obey. He only casually mentioned it in passing but as soon as he said it, I knew it was true. I’d always loved being told what to do, and the sense of satisfaction that came with a job well done. To serve a purpose, to please. I’d always been excellent at following orders, it’s part of what made me such a good programmer. When you’re talented, you want people to give you directions so you can show them just how skilled you are. It makes so much sense.

I started feeling a strong sense of compulsion anytime I was given an order, like it was the most important thing in the world in that very moment, like nothing else mattered. It all felt so good.

“I want to come to one of these mixers,” Mark surprised me one afternoon by saying. I tried telling him the meetings were only for women, but he kept pushing it.

“Work out which event you can take me to, Gaby,” he said. “That’s an order.”

Once Mark realized that Women in Tech love to obey, he’d been using it against me at times, not that I minded. With those words a wave of arousal flowed through my body.

Women in Tech love to obey. I shivered at the pleasured of it. I knew there was no way around it, I had to do what I was told.

I still wasn’t sure why Mark had insisted to come. I knew he wanted to be involved in my work life, but these were supposed to only be for women. I worried I was violating what was supposed to be a safe space but when I told Sylvia she assured me it wouldn’t be an issue. She suggested a social night that would be good to bring him to.

The next week, we arrived at the mixer. I was dressed modestly compared to my recent work outfits, a knee-length skirt and one of my old tops. Mark was the only man at the event. It was a little embarrassing. I gave him a quick kiss goodbye and made my way around the room to socialize.

I made my way up to the punch bowl and grabbed a cup. Heather came up behind me. We embraced with a big hug and gossiped about work.

After a while, I looked across the room. Mark was talking with a group of women. They were openly flirting with him. I felt a bit jealous.

“What’d you think, sir?” I asked as we arrived back at our apartment.

“I had a good time,” he replied.

“I saw you chatting with some of the people,” I mentioned.

“Jealous?” Mark replied.

“Competitive,” I whispered in his ear. I reached down, grabbing his hard cock.

“Women in Tech should be competitive,” Mark said. Him saying it out loud only reminded me how true it was.

“Women in Tech should be competitive,” I agreed.

“Women in Tech need to look their best,” Mark added. “Mm-hmm,” I agreed. Of course they do.

I looked down at my own outfit. A long skirt and one of the unflattering tops I’d bought when I first started at Vision, back when I was still trying to hide my chest.

“I’ll be right back, sir.”

Women in Tech need to show off their body.

I made my way to the bedroom to get changed into something sexier.

I came out wearing one of the outfits I had worn to work that week, a tight red skirt, and a top with thin straps. He reached his hand under my skirt.

“Hey toots,” he whispered. I quickly became aroused. I grinded my ass against his erection and pleaded for him to fuck me.

He pulled my skirt down and whispered into my ear. “Women in Tech need to be disciplined.”

“W-women in Tech…” I muttered, as the room began to spin.

“Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” he repeated. “How do we learn without being punished?”

“Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” I replied. Yes, of course! I agreed completely. Mark can be so smart sometimes. It’s important for Women in Tech to receive discipline. How else do we know when we’ve made a mistake? How else will we learn without being punished?

Women in Tech need to be disciplined.

He ran his hands across my ass. I shivered in pleasure; my pussy was dripping wet.

“Are you ready to be punished?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I moaned. “I need to be disciplined. I deserve to be punished. I need it.”

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

By the end of the night, my butt was so tingly and sore I had to sleep on my stomach.

The punishment continued at work once my co-workers found out about my need for discipline. Every time I made a mistake (which lately was very often), I was disciplined.

It started with my boss. He called me into his office. Apparently, I had made a clerical error on some of the TPS forms I filled out. I begged him to punish me.

“Please, sir. I’ve been a bad girl. Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” I begged in my sexiest voice.

He held his hand up to his head and looked down at me. “Women in Tech deserve to be disciplined…” he repeated.

He bent me over his desk, pulled down my pants, and proceeded to spank me. It was what I deserved for messing up.

After that was my co-workers. Once word got around, any mistakes in my code were met with a plethora of spankings.

“Mm, you’ve been naughty, haven’t you?” Michael asked in between smacking my sensitive behind. I felt an intense arousal from the combination of his firm hands on my ass and the knowledge that I deserved to be punished.

“Thank you, sir!” I shrieked.

After I had to sneak off to the bathroom to touch myself.

Even the mail boy had his turn. I had forgotten to put a stamp on a letter I sent out and so he bent me over his mail cart and disciplined me in front of everyone. I moaned in pleasure as his hand struck my behind. Women in Tech need to be disciplined.

I didn’t know why I kept making so many mistakes, it was so frustrating. I always thought I was good at coding. Things that I could have sworn I did correctly, simple things, always wound up being wrong. And I could’ve sworn I used a stamp. But it was fine. How else was I supposed to learn?