When Ashwin and his brothers were done raping Alyssa, she licked the remaining cum off their cocks and thanked them for the abuse, and for the multiple orgasms she had experienced as they abused her, and for helping her to briefly avoid being worthless.
And she was grateful, because all three had raped her despite her lack of consent, and that meant that despite adding three rules to her list, she was now able to go ahead and delete six whole rules. It gave her a chance of actually thinking with a clear head, and doing what she desperately needed to do—which is to say, getting herself freed from this life-ruining compulsion.
And yet, as she picked rules to remove, she found herself removing the easiest ones, and keeping the worst ones. She didn’t understand why—except that, more and more, she was beginning to believe that at some level she deserved these rules.
She got rid of the rule about dressing like a teenager. She got rid of the rule about being anxious when men weren’t erect. She got rid of the rule about texting a fan with a rape invitation (before she’d even had to act on it). She got rid of the rule about making out with girls, and the one about squeezing her tits. And she got rid of the rule about accepting that she deserved discipline—which seemed redundant now with her rule about treating abuse as affection.
Her rules now were:
- Every four times I reject a man, I make a rule permanent. (Permanent!)
- I can’t consent to sex, but I’m always wet for rape, I cum from it, and I thank my rapist. (Permanent.)
- Whenever I think about how not to be raped, I take off a piece of clothing and leave it behind. Or if I’m naked, I stuff something in my pussy or ass. (Permanent.)
- I don’t like it when men call me by my name. I prefer to be called degrading names. (Permanent.)
- I tell every man I meet that I cum from being raped.
- I can’t protect or cover any part of my body with my hands.
- I believe that all men are smarter than me.
- I treat abuse as affection.
- I have to be honest about my rules with anyone who asks.
- I am addicted to cum.
- I am worthless when men aren’t using me as a sex object.
One more rejection until my next permanent rule!
I deserve these rules because they are all things that my own mind made up for me to do, and no one is doing this to me—I’m doing it to myself.
She felt like crying, because no one was currently raping her, and she was therefore worthless, but then Ashwin grabbed her by the hair, and she immediately felt better.
“Come along, cunt,” he said. “I’m taking you to your destination now.”
She was still naked as he led her back outside, to his car, his grip on her hair forcing her to crawl nude along the driveway. She felt a surge of love for Ashwin, who was abusing her in such a romantic way, and she wished she could kiss him.
When they reached the car, and he opened the boot,, and she realised she would be riding in the boot like an object instead of in the passenger seat like a person, she felt even more love, mixed with an underlying sense of shame and fear. Ashwin tapped the boot, as though summoning a dog, and Alyssa obediently crawled inside and let him close it, trapping her in the darkness.
The thought occurred to her that she had been gang-raped twice in the last 24 hours, and that it might happen to her again before the sun went down, and for a minute she panicked and tried to think of a way to prevent that from occurring. And, of course, as soon as she started thinking about preventing herself from being raped, her thoughts just switched off. She was already naked, and had no clothing to remove, so she had to instead stuff something up her pussy.
She felt around, and found what appeared to be a heavy metal spanner lying in the darkness. She was able to slide the cold, hard metal of the handle up into her pussy, and then it felt so good that she just started to fuck it in and out of her. Life was easier when her brain was horny. She didn’t have to think about what had become of her. She lay in the darkness and raped her own cunt with the metal tool, and waited until a man chose to release her.
By the time the car stopped, and Ashwin left the driver’s seat and came around to open the boot, Alyssa was crying. She couldn’t help herself. Over the course of the trip she had felt more and more worthless because she wasn’t being used as a sex-object. On top of that, she had felt an increasing need to taste a man’s cum, as her hypnotic addiction slowly took control.
As soon as she saw Ashwin, she reached up and began pawing at his groin, rubbing at his cock through his pants. She couldn’t ask for sex—couldn’t consent to it—but she was desperate to drink his sperm.
Ashwin laughed, and obligingly took his cock out of his pants, standing facing the boot with his cock pointed at Alyssa’s face. But still Alyssa couldn’t simply consent, and had to wait, mewling pathetically, until finally Ashwin slapped her across the face, then grabbed her hair and forced her face down on his cock.
She had already refused consent to Ashwin once that day, so she didn’t have to make a new rule, thankfully. But by the same token, she’d already fucked Ashwin once before, and she only got to delete rules when she fucked new partners. She suckled on his dick until she felt him cum, his cock twitching as he spurted cum down her throat, and she swallowed it with deeply-felt gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said, once his cock had pulled out of her mouth, and he laughed, and slapped her across the face twice more.
She felt herself crying again—with gratitude for how much affection he was showing her, surely. “I love you,” she heard herself say.
Ashwin laughed and slapped her again, then pulled her out of the boot.
“You’re at your destination, cunt,” he said. “Thanks for the sex.”
And then he drove off and left her there, nude, on the side of the road.
To Alyssa’s surprise, she found that she actually had reached her original destination. She had half-thought Ashwin might take her to some dungeon or brothel where she would spend the rest of her life as a slave—but instead, she was exactly where she had meant to go.
Which is to say, the offices of her agent, Blake.
She was still nude, and going inside the office building was humiliating—but Alyssa had no place to get clothes, and she was desperate. She needed to end this nightmare, and Blake was the only one who could end it.
She blushed with shame as she went through the front doors, and headed to the receptionist. The blonde behind the desk must have known who Alyssa was—she was a famous actress, after all, and one of Blake’s top clients—but she made Alyssa identify herself anyway, before directing her to the lift.
Alyssa rode the elevator upward in embarrassed silence. At some point she realised she still had Ashwin’s spanner sticking out of her cunt. She put her hand on it to remove it—but instead just started masturbating again.
Finally she reached Blake’s office. She stumbled through the doors into his expansive office space.
“Ah, Alyssa,” said Blake, a look of triumphant satisfaction on his face. “So good to see you.”
Alyssa flinched at Blake’s use of her name. She didn’t like it. It wasn’t what she should be called. At the same time, she hated the way that Blake was looking at her—like she was a piece of meat, an object, a masturbation toy that he might ejaculate into and throw away. She wanted to cover her tits and pussy with her hands, but her hypnotic rules wouldn’t let her.
Once, it had been her who held the power in this relationship, and she never would have contemplated letting Blake see her naked. But only days ago she had let Blake cum in her asshole, and there was a picture of her nude and begging for cock up on Blake’s wall, which she had personally signed in lipstick.
She felt so pathetic and insecure. She was pathetic because no one was fucking her. That made her worthless. And she knew it was only the hypnotic rules telling her that, but she felt it just as keenly regardless. She was worthless—and she needed someone to cum in her mouth.
“Please, don’t call me Alyssa,” she said. “Just call me ‘cunt’ or ‘bitch’.”
Blake laughed with delight. “Oh, you don’t like being called Alyssa?” he said. “You know that that’s how you’re going to be credited in the movie. Are you going to be okay with seeing your name on all the posters?”
Alyssa’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t thought of that. And no, she wasn’t okay with that. The thought of all that promotional material using her real name—the name her rules made her dislike—made her want to throw up. And at the same time, part of her knew that the alternative was so much worse, and was terrified of where this might end up—but that part of her had no control, and couldn’t speak, couldn’t save her.
“No,” she heard herself say. “Please don’t use my real name in the movie.”
“I don’t know,” said Blake. “The studio paid for Alyssa. They’ll want to use your real name.”
“Please,” Alyssa whimpered—and she didn’t know if she was begging him to get her name changed, or begging him to stop this line of questioning, because of where it was going.
“How about I get you credited as ‘Alyssa the Stupid Cunt’?” asked Blake. “Would you like that in the credits of the film, and on all the posters?”
Alyssa felt like she might faint. Her mind was a roar of noise, as her real personality screamed that no, of course she didn’t want that, no one would want that, but her hypnotic rules—the rules she had chosen for herself—asserted that that was perfect, and exactly what she deserved.
“Yes, please, sir,” she heard herself say. And then, also, there was something else she had to tell him—had to tell every man she met. “I cum from being raped,” she said, in a quiet voice.
That really made him laugh. “I already know that, cunt,” he said. “I’ve tested it out, remember?”
Finally free of things she was obligated to tell him, Alyssa quickly blurted out her real reason for coming to the office. “Please, Blake—sir—you have to let me out of this hypnotism.” She bit her lip and tried to look as sexy and seductive as possible. “I’ll do anything,” she added, her eyes wide and (hopefully) inviting.
He looked her up and down, and said, “All right. You’re certainly slutty enough for the studio.” He paused. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you out of the hypnotism, if you do absolutely everything I tell you to do for as long as you’re in this office. No questioning, no struggling, no talking back. You obey my every command until I send you away, and we’ll bring your ‘average availability’ to an end.”
Alyssa took a deep, choking breath. Really? Did he mean it? She couldn’t tell. She thought he might be on the level. Was she really going to get out of this horrible nightmare? Oh, sure, he was probably going to be awful to her, and make her work for her freedom—but after her gang-rape the night before, could Blake really do any worse?
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.” And she genuinely was grateful.
“Good cunt,” said Blake. “That’s a good start. Now come over here and kneel at my feet, and tell me about what your rules are right now, and we’ll take things from there.”
And there was an evil glint in Blake’s eye—a glint that made Alyssa afraid… and yet, at the same time, made her pussy oddly begin to throb…