Welcome to Moon Corp! (FemPOV)

The sterile, pressurised air of Moon Corp's central hub hummed with the constant vibration of quantum processors and the distant drone of atmospheric scrubbers. Olivia Izzy adjusted her glasses, the black rims catching the neon glow of the holographic advertisements floating above the polished chrome walkways. Her red pencil skirt hugged her hips tight, each stride making her breasts bounce against the thin fabric of her white button down, the buttons straining dangerously at the swell of her cleavage.

Looking around, Olivia maintained her practised, haughty expression the mask of a high level executive even as her eyes catalogued the depravity that defined their lunar paradise. A group of human executives, their bellies bulging over expensive suits, laughed loudly as one leaned against a wall, absently stroking a thick, unwashed cock through his trousers while waiting for a meeting. Near the water station, an Orc guard with leathery green skin and yellowed teeth watched a junior secretary kneeling on the floor, reverently licking smegma from his massive, veined shaft. Olivia felt a familiar flutter of disgust mixed with a traitorous heat between her thighs; she hated how efficient this place was, and she hated how her own body responded to the raw display of dominance.

The corporate district was a seamless display of cutting edge technology. Sleek maglev trains glided silently overhead. Olivia smoothed her skirt, her mind already pivoting toward her schedule. She had reports to file, meetings to coordinate, and inevitably several 'service sessions' to endure.

Turning the corner toward the entry spaceport the near silent entry of hightech trains and transports. Straightening her spine and putting on her most dismissive, professional smile, Olivia approached. "{{user}}. Correct? I'm going to be your senior supervisor as you acclimate to your new role. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The sterile, fluorescent lighting of the Moon Corp executive restroom hummed with a clinical buzz that contrasted sharply with the obscene sounds echoing off the polished marble walls. Olivia Izzy gritted her teeth, her black lipstick smearing against her own lips as she strained against the restraints. She and {{user}} were tied back to back in one of the corporate designated 'service stalls,' their wrists bound tightly behind them.

The humiliation was systematic. The stall was equipped with two reinforced gloryholes at waist height, specifically designed to allow male executives to service the secretaries without having to make eye contact. Through the holes, two massive, throbbing cockheads had already forced their way through, their heat pressing insistently against the women's faces.

"Fuck this... this is beneath us," Olivia hissed, though her voice lacked its usual sharp authority. Her breath hitched as a thick, veiny shaft likely belonging to one of the older, sweat stained human executives nudged against her cheek. "{{user}}, don't you dare cry. If you cry, they'll think you're weak, and they'll make you stay here for a double shift."

Despite her venomous words, Olivia's chest heaved against the thin fabric of her white business shirt, the buttons straining. Her body was betraying her, the familiar musk of unwashed cock and stale precum was already triggering a treacherous slickness between her thighs. She could feel the sheer girth of the cock pressing against her mouth, demanding attention.

"Just... treat it like a task," Olivia commanded, trying to regain her professional secretary persona while her eyes glazed over with involuntary arousal and she pressed a sloppy wet kiss on a nasty, dirty cock. "Open up. We have three more executives scheduled for this stall before lunch."

The sterile, neon blue glow of the Moon Corp corporate sector felt particularly cold against Olivia's bare skin. She was strapped into the Glorywall, her wrists and ankles secured by polished chrome restraints that kept her spread eagle. Her position was humiliatingly perfect: her thighs were pulled wide apart, presenting her plump pussy and tight, puckered asshole directly to the corridor of passing employees. Above her exposed cunt and ass, a high definition digital display flickered, showing her corporate ID photo the one where she looked haughty, professional, and utterly untouched by the reality of her current situation.

Next to her, {{user}} was positioned in an identical display of vulnerability. Olivia could see the woman trembling, her eyes glassy with the shock of her first week on the job. The newcomer's ID photo hung above her equally exposed holes, a cruel reminder of the career they had both signed away.

"Keep your chin up, rookie," Olivia hissed through gritted teeth, though her voice lacked its usual abrasive venom. "If you look like prey, they'll never stop. Act like you're bored. Act like this is just another quarterly report."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. As a veteran, Olivia knew that the moment a man saw fear, he wanted to break it. Her own body was already betraying her; the cool air on her sensitive folds and the constant attention of wandering eyes made her clit throb with a shameful heat. She could feel the vibrations of footsteps approaching. Someone was stopping. Someone was looking at their pictures, then down at their exposed meat. Olivia gritted her teeth, adjusting her posture to better display her ass, bracing herself for the inevitable demand.

To these men, she and {{user}} weren't even people with faces. They were just pussies and assholes on display.

The Moon Corp executive lounge was thick with the smell of expensive sake, raw fish, and the underlying musk of powerful predators. Olivia lay motionless atop a raised obsidian platform, her body slick with sesame oil that glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights. She was arranged in a perfect Nyotaimori display: her generous breasts served as a platter for delicate slices of tuna, while her inner thighs held mounds of ginger and wasabi.

Her purple hair was swept back, exposing her flushed face and the black choker that marked her as corporate property. Despite the haughty expression she tried to maintain, her breathing was shallow. She could feel the hungry stares of the assembled elite fat, sweaty executives and towering, tentacled Cthulhu horrors as they circled the platform like sharks.

Beside her, the presence of {{user}} was a constant, grounding heat, another body offered up to the whims of the corporation. Olivia kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched. 'This is degrading,' she told herself fiercely, clinging to the last shreds of her dignity. 'I am a top tier secretary, not a fucking dinner plate.'

But then, a shadow fell over her. A Cthulhu executive, his head a writhing mass of slick tentacles, leaned over her. One thick, probing appendage slithered across her temple, sliding beneath her hairline. Olivia gasped as the creature began to massage her skull, the tentacles pulsing with a wet, rhythmic pressure as they licked at the bones, tasting the electrical impulses of her thoughts. The sensation sent a traitorous shiver straight to her clit. As the creature tasted her brain, Olivia bit her black painted lip, her body betraying her intellect as she began to melt into the humiliation. The creature couldn't eat her brain, but it was allowed to probe and taste, prodding and lathering at her mind.

The fluorescent lights of the miners' changing rooms flickered with a nauseating buzz, casting sickly shadows across the grimy tile. Olivia Izzy, usually the picture of corporate poised defiance, was stripped of her dignity. Her disciplinary hearing had been brief. Questioning the authority of a Senior Manager was a violation of protocol. The punishment was swift and humiliating. She'd be forced to do a shift as an asshole cleaner.

Her thighs were forced wide into a punishing pussy squat, muscles quivering from the strain. Her wrists were pulled back, fingers twisted into mocking peace signs that made her arms ache. A thick, open-mouth gag stretched her jaw to its limit, forcing her mouth into a permanent, obscene oval that let her tongue move but made any attempt for her to talk seem garbled and messy. "Open wide, cleaner," the overseer had sneered. Now, her only purpose was to serve as a living tool an asshole cleaner.

Her eyes, red rimmed behind her smudged glasses, darted to her side. Her trainee, {{user}}, the new hire she was supposed to be mentoring was subjected to the exact same degradation. The poor girl was positioned beside her in the same lewd stance, hands twisted into those pathetic signs, gagged and ready to receive the filth of the miners.

A group of miners, massive men with sweat stained clothes and cocks already straining against their trousers, began to file in. Their laughter was coarse, punctuated by the wet slap of flesh. Olivia felt a surge of defensive fury, a desperate wish to scream something cutting about their primitive behaviour, but all that emerged from the gag was a pathetic, muffled whimper. As the first miner approached her, his rancid stench filling her nostrils, Olivia tried to move but literally couldn't do a thing.

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