Chapter 23: The R&D Display
The two days after the declaration had been deceptively quiet. Monday and Tuesday bled together in a haze of routine shame and low-grade arousal.Ken learned things. The Strategy & Foresight department was a new construct, barely off the drawing board. He and his four mesh-clad peers were the entire manpower. Their job, as Pon had outlined, was essentially to be the company’s lubricant—preventing friction, facilitating flow. All their work was service, and all their service was reported directly to HR.Ken got used to it.The mechanics of it, anyway. He’d enter a department—Finance to drop off a reconciled data log, Marketing to collect briefs—and immediately assume the posture. Knees spread on the cool floor, hands laced tight behind his head, chest open. His cock, after the first jolt of exposed air, would harden obediently, a Pavlovian response to the feeling of eyes on his skin. “Master Liam, Ken is ready for your service.” “Master Jesse, Ken is ready for your service.” He said it to his friends from the rooftop, his voice flat and polite, while they grinned with a possessive, friendly delight that made his stomach twist and his arousal spike.But no real requests came. They’d call him over to their cubicle clusters, have him kneel while they ate lunch, or ask him mundane questions just to hear him reply with the formal “master” prefix. They enjoyed the view, his complete vulnerability a constant, thrilling backdrop to their normal workday. The dark thrill became a familiar undercurrent, a secret pulse beneath the humiliation.He was doing his job. He was holding the environment together.The applause still echoed in his bones, a permission slip for his own degradation.
Wednesday felt different from the start.A low, watchful tension hummed in the S&F office. Ken, naked at his desk, tried to focus on a market coherence report. Then he noticed Leo vanishing towards the washroom.Not unusual.But Leo didn’t come back. Twenty minutes later, Todd got a phone call, nodded, and left without a word. Marcus and David followed in similar, silent succession, each gone for over an hour. Ken was alone in the glass-walled room, the empty mesh garments draped over his peers’ chairs like shed insect skins. He felt exposed in a new way, a specimen in an empty zoo.
When they finally returned, one by one, their faces were carefully neutral.Their bright underwear seemed garish under the mesh, a joke that had lost its punchline. None of them would meet his eye. They just sat down and began typing, the click of keys unusually loud.Then Ken’s direct line rang, a sharp trill that made him jump. He picked up.“Strategy and Foresight, Ken speaking.”
“Ken.R&D. We need you directly.Now.” The voice was crisp, unfamiliar.Not a friend. Then the line went dead.He stood. The eyes of his peers were on his back now, a heavy, knowing weight.He didn’t speak. He just walked out, the air of the main corridor chilling the sweat at the small of his back. His cock, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, began its slow, inevitable rise from the moment he left the S&F door.
The walk to R&D was a journey into a different kind of corporate space. The noise of Marketing’s bullpens and Finance’s printer farms faded, replaced by a sterile, pressurized quiet. The corridor was all glass and polished white flooring, lit by cold, shadowless LEDs. Labs lined the hallway, silent white cubes where figures in lab coats moved with deliberate slowness behind soundproofed windows. The air smelled of ozone and wiped-clean plastic. At the end of the hall, a monolithic glass door marked the entrance to the R&D wing proper. A ghostly man sat at a reception desk, his eyes glued to a screen, never looking up.Ken approached the threshold. His training was absolute now.He didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped into the alcove before the main door, the cool floor a shock to his bare soles, and lowered himself into the posture. Knees spread wide, hands locked behind his head, spine straight. His erection completed the picture, jutting forward unabashed.He took a breath, the air tasting sterile and dry.
“Master, Ken is ready for your service.”
A man emerged from inside the R&D door. He was young, probably a new hire like Ken, but clad in the standard-issue Fah Rung polo and chinos.He held a clipboard. Ken recognized him vaguely from the onboarding mixer—a quiet guy who’d stayed on the edges.His name tag read ‘Kla’.
“Good,” his voice devoid of warmth.He made a tick on the clipboard. “You’ll remain there.Don’t move from that posture. We have a delegation from our primary collaborative partner, NutriChip, arriving in ten minutes. They are here for a technical deep-dive, but they’ve expressed interest in our… innovative… interdisciplinary frameworks. You are a part of that framework. You will serve as a live demonstration of the collaborative working environment between R&D and other departments.”
He said it all in a flat, rehearsed monotone. It wasn’t a request.It was a system check.Ken stared at a fixed point on the opposite glass wall. “Yes, Master.”
He took up a position leaning against the doorframe, clipboard in hand, observing Ken as if he were a piece of equipment waiting for validation.The minutes stretched. Ken’s knees began to ache from the pressure of the hard floor.His shoulders burned. The cool, conditioned air played over his skin, raising goosebumps, making his nipples tighten. Every slight sensation felt magnified, focused directly on his exposed groin. The shame was immediate, a hot wave that flushed his chest and face.But beneath it, the other thing pulsed, steady and insistent. The thrill of being used.Of being an essential, displayed component.Footsteps echoed down the glass corridor. A group of men, about eight of them, led by another R&D staffer approached. They were the guests: older, dressed in expensive casual tech-wear, their eyes sharp and assessing.They weren’t Fah Rung. They were outsiders.They stopped a few feet from Ken.A wall of curious, professional stares.
“—and this,” the R&D staffer was saying, his gesture encompassing Ken, “is a tangible example of our total transparency and service-oriented cross-departmental integration. This is Ken, from our Strategy and Foresight unit. He is on permanent, immediate call to assist any department, including R&D, with analytical or facilitative needs.”
One of the guests, a man with silver-framed glasses, tilted his head.“Permanent?In what sense?”
R&D staffer spoke, his voice clear in the quiet hall.“In the literal sense. For a disciplinary period, his uniform is his natural state.The posture is one of readiness and submission. It eliminates hierarchy friction at the point of contact.”
The guest with glasses took a step closer. Ken could smell his cologne, something woody and expensive.He fought the instinct to shrink back. His cock, fully hard now, twitched against his stomach.
“Fascinating,” the guest murmured, not looking at Ken’s face but studying his body, the position, the blatant arousal. “And this… readiness.It’s enforced?”
“It’s conditioned,” he corrected smoothly. “Through positive reinforcement of company cohesion.The physiological response is genuine.” He turned his attention to Ken. “Ken.Explain the S&F service protocol to our guests.”
Ken’s mouth was parched. He kept his eyes forward, his voice straining for neutrality as it projected into the space. “The Strategy and Foresight department provides seamless, on-demand service to all operational units. The posture ensures immediate availability and demonstrates subordination to departmental needs. My physical state is an indicator of… of operational readiness.” The words tasted like ash, but he delivered them cleanly.
Another guest, younger, with a keen, probing gaze, chuckled softly.“Operational readiness. I see it.” He didn’t look away from Ken’s groin. “And if I, as a visiting collaborator, had a request?Could I test the integration?”
R&D staffer smiled thinly. “Within reason, and with our oversight, yes. The environment is designed for stress-testing.”
The younger guest didn’t hesitate.He closed the final step.Ken could see the fine weave of his sweater. The man’s hand came up, not fast, but deliberate.He didn’t ask. His fingertips, cool and dry, pressed against Ken’s sternum, then trailed downwards over his abdomen.
Ken flinched.A full-body jerk that made his knees slide an inch on the floor. He couldn’t help it.The touch was invasive, clinical, and utterly unexpected from a stranger. A hot bolt of pure humiliation shot through him. Yet, his traitorous cock gave another painful throb, swelling impossibly fuller under the attention.He didn’t pull away. The rules were the architecture holding him up. He stayed rigid, his breath coming in shallow sips, his hands gripping each other tighter behind his head.The guest felt the flinch, saw the physiological response. His smile widened.“Sensitive.And remarkably responsive.” He withdrew his hand. “The integration is… visceral.I can see how it would break down communicative barriers. No uniforms to hide behind.”
Another R&D staff, who had been watching intently, made another note on his clipboard. His expression was one of pure, analytical approval.
The group stood there for another few minutes, discussing Ken as if he were an interactive display, which he was. They asked him more questions—about his focus, his sense of the company’s strategic direction—and he answered, his voice growing steadier even as his face burned, each answer punctuated by the silent, stark evidence of his humiliation. The dark thrill coiled tight around his spine, a counterweight to the shame.He was the demonstration.The proof. The essential, unseen backbone was, in this moment, completely and utterly seen.
Finally, R&D staffer led the guests through the giant glass door into the R&D sanctum. The last one filed past, giving Ken a final, appraising look.The door hissed shut. Young R&D staff remained. He looked down at his clipboard, then at Ken, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Acceptable,” he stated, making a final notation.He turned to follow the others in.
Left alone in the sterile, sunlit corridor, Ken maintained his posture.The echo of the touch on his skin felt branded. The guests’ eyes felt painted onto him.His knees throbbed.His shoulders screamed. His cock ached, hard and heavy.And the silence around him was no longer empty. It was full of the shape he made in it, a vital, kneeling figure in the architecture of everything.
It was full of the shape he made in it, a vital, kneeling figure in the architecture of everything. He didn’t know how long he stayed there after the R&D door sealed. Time dissolved into the ache in his joints and the ghost-pressure of the stranger’s fingers on his skin. The glass walls turned the corridor into a vivarium, and he was the specimen, motionless under the clinical lights. Finally, the monolithic door hissed open again, and the junior staffer, the one with the clipboard, reappeared. He didn’t even look at Ken as he passed.
“You’re released. Return to your department,” he said, the words tossed over his shoulder like a used tissue.
The command unlocked his muscles. Ken unfolded with a grunt, his knees popping as he stood. The blood rushed back in sharp, needling waves. He walked away from the sterile whiteness, each step a return to a world of color and sound. The main hall’s cafe buzzed with the low hum of mid-morning breaks, the smell of roasted coffee cutting through the building’s canned air. He was almost past it, his mind still back in that silent corridor, when a familiar voice called out.
“Ken! Hey, over here!”
Jesse was waving from a small round table, a latte and an empty pastry wrapper in front of him. His smile was immediate, bright, and utterly normal.
Ken’s body reacted before his mind could engage. Training was cement now. He crossed the few feet of polished floor, the public gaze of the cafe patrons a diffuse background pressure, and dropped smoothly into his kneeling posture right beside Jesse’s chair. Knees spread on the cool tile, hands behind his head, his recently flagging erection stirring back to full, attentive life under the table’s shadow.
“Master Jesse,” he said, his voice even. “Ken is ready for your service.”
“Whoa, dude, at ease!” Jesse laughed, a genuine, warm sound. He reached out and gave Ken’s shoulder a friendly shake. “This is break time. Come on, sit. You want a coffee? My treat.”
The permission was a relief. Ken rose, the movement less stiff now, and took the offered chair. He automatically adjusted his posture, spreading his legs wide under the small table, ensuring the clear, uninterrupted view. Jesse’s eyes flicked down for a half-second, his grin softening into something more appreciative, before locking back on Ken’s face.
“So, how’s the grand tour been?” Jesse asked, sipping his latte. “Heard you were up in R&D. Those guys are weirdos.”
“It was… instructional, Master Jesse,” Ken replied, the title feeling less foreign now, especially with Jesse’s easy smile welcoming it. He felt a surge of simple happiness. The protocol was there, a wall between them, but Jesse was chatting through it like it was just a quirky new habit.
“Pfft, ‘instructional’. I bet.” Jesse leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Look, seriously, how are you holding up? And you can just talk, you know. I’m not gonna report you for having a normal conversation with a friend.”
Ken took a slow breath. The coffee arrived, and he wrapped his hands around the warm cup. “It’s… confusing,” he began, his words careful but real. “I feel embarrassed. All the time. When people stare in the halls, or when I have to kneel. My face gets hot. I want to disappear.” He paused, searching for the right shape for the contradiction. “But I don’t feel… destroyed by it. It doesn’t feel like degradation. Not really. There’s a… charge to it. Sometimes, I realize I’m smiling. And I don’t know why.”
Jesse listened, his energetic focus completely on Ken. He nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, interesting.” He scratched his chin. “So, the embarrassment is real. But the thrill is also real. They’re happening at the same time. You’re not just enduring it; a part of you is… into it. The being seen. The being told what to do.”
“I suppose,” Ken said, his brow furrowed. “It doesn’t feel like a choice. It just is.”
“That’s the thing, man. These things rarely are a choice,” Jesse said, his tone light but thoughtful. “Look, I’m not a psychologist, but have you ever considered you might just have a thing for submission? And exhibition? Like, a submissive exhibitionist? Not in a bad way! Just… a thing. Your wiring.”
Ken blinked. The terms hung in the air between them, clinical and alien. “I… don’t know. That seems like a label for something… else.”
“Maybe! Probably! I’m just guessing,” Jesse said, throwing his hands up. “But hey, we could find out. We’re all going to that onsen next two weeks, right? You, Me, Sam, Liam, Cole. It’s neutral ground, outside all this.” He gestured vaguely at the office around them. “Could be a good place to, I dunno, test the theory. In a chill way. No protocols, just friends. See what feels like what.”
The offer wasn’t pressured. It felt like help. A chance to understand the chaos inside him with people who, despite everything, still felt like allies. Ken felt a wash of gratitude. “That… would be good, Master Jesse. Thank you.”
“Awesome.” Jesse’s smile returned full-force. He flagged down a server and ordered a plate of mini-donuts. As Ken finished his coffee, Jesse grew more animated. “Oh, man, speaking of testing environments—get ready for Thursday and Friday. The Finance bullpen is buzzing. They’re practically giddy you’re coming.”
“Yes, Master Jesse. The schedule rotation starts with your department.”
“I know! And I just found out the senior guys have been planning stuff. They’re not… they’re not going to ask for reports or anything. They’re not like R&D. They’re, like, aggressively social. They want to ‘hang out’ with you. Play dumb games. Maybe give you a silly task. They think the whole thing is the coolest team-building exercise ever invented.”
Ken listened, and the tight knot of anxiety about the two-day servitude began to loosen. It wasn’t a threat; it was an itinerary. A bizarre, naked social call. He felt his shoulders drop an inch. “I will be waiting for that, then.”
Jesse pushed the plate of donuts toward him. “Eat. You’ll need the energy.” He winked. “It’s gonna be somewhat fun.”
Ken picked up a donut. The sugar was startlingly sweet. For the first time that day, the future felt not like a sentence, but a curious, open question. The shame was still there, a constant hum. But beneath it, something lighter, almost eager, began to coil. He took a bite, and for a moment, he just enjoyed the taste.