Titcage (Chapter 1)

Chapter One
TITCAGE

Claire didn’t want to work at Titcage. But work experience during the school holidays was compulsory for seniors and despite her best efforts she couldn’t convince her parents or teachers that the so-called Committee For Gender Equity was against women, not for them.

Funded by church groups, conservatives, and the world’s richest men, the organisation existed for one purpose: to change community and government attitudes to women and restore women to a role solely as sextoys, housekeepers and breeders. They famously released nude and compromising photos of prominent women to destroy their reputations, and were rumoured to have organised several unsolved rapes committed against feminist lobbyists.

But Claire’s mother didn’t follow politics and was set firmly in the belief that any organisation run by intelligent men would be a good and respectable place for a Teen girl to be educated. And so Claire found herself on a Monday arriving, nervous and scared, at the fifth floor offices of the political think-tank colloquially known as Titcage.

The lobby was modern and professional. One wall showed a photo collage of smiling women. Only on a closer look did Claire notice they were all wearing dog collars.

The receptionist was a beautiful blonde. She was dressed in smart business clothes but with a plunging neckline that revealed much of her breasts and a black leather dog collar. It was definitely a dog collar, not a choker. It even had a round name tag attached to it. The tag said ‘Girl’.

Claire herself was more modestly dressed. Her blonde hair was cut in a trim but attractive style; her skirt was short but her blouse mostly hid the large tits that Claire was always embarrassed by. Looking at the pretty receptionist made Claire uncomfortably aware of her tits, and the way that they were bouncing and rubbing against the inside of her bra as she moved. Hesitantly, Claire approached the receptionist.

‘Um, hello,’ she began. ‘I’m here for the…’

‘Work experience,’ finished the receptionist. ‘Yes, you must be Claire. Michael was expecting you. Come right this way.’ She stood up from behind the desk and led Claire through a door, into a small meeting room.