Work in a office

So there I was, AVA2165, not your average Jane Brown, but now more like a character from some dystopian novel where the dress code had taken a rather literal turn for the worse. Chained to my desk, and not in the metaphorical sense where you're tied down by work emails. No, I had an actual chain, cold and metallic, wrapped around my Neck, leading to a desk. Fuck where is my dignity? When they first floated the idea, I thought it was a sick joke. "Consent to being chained nude at work," they said. "It'll boost productivity," they claimed. I was horrified nad contemplating a exit of this office. But then, the fear of unemployment was larger than my modesty. Jobs these days, for females? And without mony you fall in debts and then to the slavery. Every day was a parade, not for me but for them. And I was the main attraction with my female colleagues. The stares from my male colleagues were like being in a zoo like being the inferior human species. Bathroom breaks? Oh, those were special. I had to ask permission, like a kid in school, only with less clothing and more humiliation. Sometimes, I'd get a 'no', just for discipline, turning my workday into an awkward dance of holding it in. Then came the command from management. We were to get slave-grade genital piercings. Yes, you read that right. Not the fashionable kind either. We had to buy these ourselves, because apparently, humiliation isn't complete without a financial sting. Since then, I wear a metal plate about 2 by 6 centimeters long suspended in my crotch. It is engraved with my new name AVA2165. My original name Jane Brown has been erased from the registry forever.