Chapter 16: The Briefing
The conference room felt like a gilded cage. James sat stiffly in a plush leather chair at the back, the borrowed badge from IT—‘Dave Miller’—digging into his chest through his shirt. He kept his head down, scrolling absently on his phone, but his attention was a laser pointed at the front of the room.Stacy was three rows ahead, sitting between Chloe and Lisa. They looked like a study in contrasts: Stacy’s sunny blonde ponytail, Lisa’s fiery red curls, Chloe’s sleek dark bob. They were chatting quietly, Stacy laughing at something Lisa said, the sound familiar and warm. It was the most normal thing James had seen in days, and it made his throat tighten.Marcus Vance cleared his throat at the podium, and the room’s chatter died instantly. He stood with a practiced ease, one hand in the pocket of his tailored suit jacket. The morning light from the floor-to-ceiling windows glinted off his silver temples.
“Good morning, team.Welcome to the second day of our retreat. The goal today is synergy.” His voice was smooth, a rich baritone that carried without a microphone. “We’ll be splitting into two working groups. The support staff,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Stacy’s row, “will be with Paul from IT in the Lakeside Suite. A deep dive on our new CRM software. Very hands-on.”
A geeky guy with glasses and a desperate attempt at a soul patch raised a hand from the side of the room. That was Paul. He looked strangely eager at prospect of explaining some software update rollout.
“The sales team, well the top performers who earned an invite here," Marcus continued, his smile widening just a fraction, “will be with me in the Oak Room. We’re going to talk about closing, the art of the final push. Also if we have time I'll go out some of the perks of our new incentive program."
A low rumble of appreciative chuckles went through the sales guys around James. Bill leaned over to Carl, his voice a stage whisper. “Bet his deep dive’s more interesting than ours.”
“No shit,” Carl grumbled, shifting his bulk in the chair.James felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He watched as Stacy gathered her notebook, her movements light and unaware, and fell into step behind Paul the IT guy. Chloe and Lisa followed, along with the rest of the administrative and support staff. The room began to empty, chairs scraping on the polished floor.
As everyone began to shuffle towards the assigned suites, James noticed that the roughly fifteen people who comprised the support staff were all women. With the exception of Lisa and one other curvy woman who looked about similar age, they were all young, early to mid-twenties.
With the exception of Lisa and one other curvy woman who looked about similar age, they were all young, early to mid-twenties. The men, including himself, were filing out the other door toward the Oak Room. James hung back, letting the herd of sales guys—Carl, Bill, Michael, and others he didn’t know—shuffle past him.He counted them automatically. Nine guys, including himself.And one woman.
She moved with a languid, deliberate sway at the front of the pack, right behind Marcus Vance. Her blouse was nearly sheer, a pale lavender chiffon unbuttoned so low the deep valley of her surgically enhanced cleavage was fully visible. A loose, silky skirt swished around her thighs, ending several inches above her knees. A white placard on a lanyard swung between her breasts with each step. The bold, black letters simply read: KITTY.
“Gentlemen, and Kitty,” Marcus said, his tone dripping with patronizing warmth as he held the Oak Room door open. “Right this way.”
Bill smirked, elbowing Carl as they passed. “Incentive program’s looking good already.”
“Shut up, dipshit,” Carl muttered, but his eyes were glued to Kitty’s retreating back, the skirt fabric clinging for a second as she stepped through the doorway.
James felt a cold, clarifying disgust wash over him, sharpening his focus. This wasn’t just a sales meeting.It was a demonstration.He was being shown the product line. He took a final glance down the hall where Stacy had disappeared, her blonde hair catching the light before a door swung shut.Then he stepped into the Oak Room.
The space was smaller, darker, dominated by a long oak table.The air smelled of cigar smoke and ambition. Marcus stood at the head, one hand resting on the high back of a throne-like chair. Kitty had taken a seat near him, crossing her legs slowly.The skirt rode up further. She gazed at the tabletop with a vacant, pleasant smile.“Close the door, Michael,” Marcus said. The latch clicked with a final, heavy sound.
The latch clicked with a final, heavy sound. Silence pooled in the room, thick and expectant, broken only by the hum of the overhead HVAC vent. Marcus Vance let the quiet stretch, his eyes moving slowly over each of the nine men seated around the polished table. His gaze settled on James for a half-second too long, a flicker of assessment, then moved on.
“Before we begin the dry stuff,” Marcus said, his voice calm and conversational, “I want to congratulate you all.Your numbers this quarter weren’t just good. They were unprecedented.” He paused, letting the praise sink in.A few guys puffed their chests out slightly. “This retreat, this room right now, is a reward. And rewards should be… tangible.”
He leaned back against the table, his posture relaxed, proprietary.“Some of you were here last year. You probably remember our Incentive Coordinator, Kitty.”
Carl snorted softly into his fist, then leaned toward Bill. His whisper was perfectly audible in the quiet room.“I remember her, sure. Don’t remember those being part of the package, though.” He gestured with his chin toward Kitty’s chest.
A few of the men chuckled, low and complicit. Kitty continued to stare ahead, her pleasant smile untouched.Marcus didn’t reprimand Carl. Instead, he smiled, as if Carl had just proven a point.“The incentive program has evolved.It’s about clear communication. Direct feedback loops.” He turned his body slightly toward Kitty. “Kitty, honey, are you dressed for a performance review?”
The change was instantaneous. Kitty’s vacant expression snapped into focus, her eyes sharpening with a mischievous, predatory glint. She uncrossed her legs and stood in one fluid motion.“Always, Mr. Vance,” she purred, her voice suddenly lower, huskier. “I live for my reviews.”
She didn’t look at any of the men directly, yet her whole body now addressed them. She placed her hands on her hips, rolling her shoulders back.A slow, rhythmic sway started in her core. The chiffon blouse seemed to live on her skin.
James felt his own breath catch, his analytical mind detaching despite the churn in his gut.Performance review.The trigger he’d documented. He watched, frozen, as the professional facade of the conference room fractured.
Kitty’s fingers went to the top button of her blouse.With a practiced flick, it came undone.Then the next. And the next.The thin fabric fell open, revealing a lacy black bra straining over augmented breasts. The room’s air grew heavier, warmer, smelling of her perfume and male concentration.
“Outstanding initiative, Kitty,” Marcus said, his tone now that of a bored instructor.
She shimmied her shoulders, letting the blouse slide down her arms.It fell to the floor behind her. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, pushing it over her hips in a single, deliberate motion. It joined the blouse, leaving her in just the bra, tiny panties, and heels. She ran her hands over her own curves, a slow, self-possessed cataloging of assets.“Show us your commitment to the team,” Marcus commanded, his voice casual.
Kitty turned, presenting her back to the table, and reached behind to unclasp the bra. She let it dangle from her fingers for a moment before dropping it. She faced them again, topless, her expression one of arrogant pride.The transformation was complete. The bland “Incentive Coordinator” was gone, replaced by this carnal, performing thing.
She began to move between the seated men, her steps a deliberate click on the hardwood. She trailed a finger across Michael’s shoulders as she passed him.He stiffened, his face flushing. Carl licked his lips, his eyes glued to the sway of her breasts.
James watched, his mind a conflict of cold horror and a dark, unwelcome pull. This was the machinery he’d seen in Lisa, now on full, brazen display.It was no longer a secret he’d uncovered; it was corporate culture. The rhythm of her dance, the blank yet calculated look in her eyes—it was all a programmed script. He knew the code behind it now.His hand clenched under the table, nails biting into his palm. He had to look.He had to understand the full output. But as Kitty approached his end of the table, a sickening thought slammed into him: this was the system that owned Stacy. These men, this room, this was the world she worked inside every day.
Kitty stopped in front of him, leaning down so her face was level with his. Up close, he could see the faint, glazed quality in her pupils.Her scent enveloped him. “See something you like?” she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.
She straightened up, her predatory smile still fixed in place, and turned her hips to the side. As she did, the edge of her tiny black thong shifted. There, just above the cleft of her buttock, was a small tattoo. The stylized letters, intricate and corporate, blended together into a single, clean line of ink. It read: PROPERTY OF KLYNCH INDUSTRIES.James stared, the words branding themselves into his vision.
Kitty sauntered to the guy next to him, a young salesman named Todd whose neck was now blotchy red. “How’s my form, Todd?” she breathed, grinding against his shoulder. Todd let out a strangled, nervous laugh, his eyes wide as saucers.“Uh. Optimized?”
The room erupted in genuine, raucous laughter.Carl slapped the table.“Optimized! Good one, kid!”
The laughter from Carl’s ‘optimized’ comment faded into a tense, waiting silence. Marcus watched Kitty finish a slow, deliberate rotation against Todd’s thigh, her movements mechanical in their seduction. He smoothed his tie, his expression shifting from amusement to that of a professor about to make a critical point.
“The laugh is appreciated, but let’s clarify the product suite,” Marcus said, his voice cutting through the room’s heavy atmosphere. “Some of you were given early access to our latest bunch of assets.” He gestured toward the door, presumably where the support staff had gone. “Women like Kitty here respond to several verbal keys. The difference is those assets have a handful of keys whilst Kitty here has hundreds.”
Kitty paused her grinding, looking toward Marcus with blank, attentive eyes, as if awaiting a software update.
“The latest assets are meant for temporary use, for now,” he continued, pacing slowly behind the seated men.“Field tests, if you will.A perk for top performers. Kitty is more of a permanent fixture.A fully integrated system. She represents the end-state of our corporate investment in human resources.”
He stopped directly behind James, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. James stiffened, the weight of the touch feeling like a brand.
“What I’m saying is,” Marcus said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone aimed at the whole room, “don’t get too attached to your temporary assets.They’re on a lease program.Kitty? She’s company property. Fully owned.”
His gaze settled on Kitty, who had stopped moving entirely, frozen in a pose of submission.Marcus nodded once, a crisp, clean gesture.
“Kitty has learned how to succeed.”
The phrase acted like a physical switch. The performative, stripper-like confidence evaporated from Kitty’s posture. Her shoulders slumped slightly, her chin dipped, and her eyes lost their predatory glint, replaced by a deep, vacant hunger. She sank from Todd’s lap onto her knees on the polished hardwood floor.A soft, desperate sound escaped her throat. She began to crawl.Her movements were fluid and purposeful, a silent predator on the scent. The click of her heels was gone, replaced by the whisper of skin on wood. She reached Michael first, who was sitting nearest to Todd.She didn’t look up at his wide-eyed face. Her hands went directly to his belt buckle, her fingers deft and practiced.
“I just love to suck seed,” she murmured, the words rhythmical and hollow as a prayer. The declarative statement hung in the air, obscene and sterile at once.
Michael gasped as she freed him and took him into her mouth in one deep, swallowing motion.His head thumped back against the chair, a groan torn from him. The wet, rhythmic sounds were loud in the quiet room. After a minute of brutal efficiency, she pulled off with a gasp, a strand of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. “Your seed is so good,” she cooed, patting his thigh before turning away.
She crawled to Carl next.The older man was already fumbling with his zipper, his breathing ragged. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he grunted.
Kitty serviced him with the same detached, technical proficiency, her head bobbing robotically. “I live to swallow,” she intoned, her voice muffled. Carl’s hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles white.James watched, his mind partitioning itself. One section recorded the data: the new trigger phrase, the immediate behavioral shift from dominant performer to submissive servant. Another section recoiled, the visceral disgust a cold sludge in his veins. A third, darker part noted the alarming efficiency, the terrifying completeness of her programming.Hundreds of keys, Marcus had said. Stacy had hundreds.What other routines were lying dormant in her mind?
As Kitty moved to Bill, James’s eyes flicked to the ‘PROPERTY OF KLYNCH INDUSTRIES’ tattoo on her lower back.It seemed to pulse under the low light.Temporary assets.Permanent fixtures. The taxonomy of ownership was clear.Where did Stacy fall?She wasn’t tattooed. She was an administrator, not an ‘Incentive Coordinator’. Was she a ‘temporary asset’ in their eyes?On a lease?
Bill grinned down at Kitty, running a hand through her hair with a possessive roughness. “That’s it, learn your place,” he muttered, thrusting up into her mouth.James’s stomach churned. His love was someone these men considered a leased commodity, a perk for closing deals. The analytical fury inside him crystallized into a single, cold objective.He had to know everything. He had to map every key, every trigger in Stacy’s mind, not just to break the conditioning, but to understand the full architecture of her prison. And maybe, a treacherous voice whispered, to learn how to use it himself, to keep her safe from the others. The line between rescue and ownership blurred in his mind, smeared by the spectacle on the floor.Kitty finished with Bill, who sighed with satisfaction as she pulled away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her glassy eyes already scanning for the next man.She was working her way around the table. Toward him.