Alyssa knelt at her agent’s feet and opened her mouth to explain her current rules.
“No, wait,” said Blake. “Actually, I’ve got some people who’ll get a kick out of hearing this.” He reached for his computer, and began to set up a group video call.
Alyssa’s eyes widened. It was bad enough that she was sharing her humiliating rules with her agent—but he intended to expose her to other people as well?
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t…”
Blake made no immediate reply. Instead, lightning-fast, his hand lashed out and slapped her across the face.
“Shut up, bitch,” he snarled, as she clutched at her face. “What did I tell you about obedience?”
Alyssa watched in horror as he set up a group video call. The participants were all men she knew, either directly or by reputation. There were two famous directors, a famous actor, a wealthy producer, a casting agent, and a man mostly famous for being famous.
“Who’s that you’ve got there, Blake?” asked Michael, one of the directors. “Is that who I think it is? Is she naked?”
“Gentlemen,” said Blake, “may I introduce Alyssa the Stupid Cunt. That’s what she’s just asked me to have her credited as in her future movies. You can just call her ‘Cunt’ for short.”
There was surprised, cruel laughter from the men on Blake’s computer screen.
“She looks hot,” said another man—Geoffrey, the casting agent. “Is she available to be fucked?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” said Blake.
“Can I fuck you, Cunt?” asked Geoffrey.
Alyssa’s rules gave her no choice about how to reply. “No!” she exclaimed. And then—“but I do cum when I’m raped.”
There was laughter on the screen, and Alyssa blushed, and felt her rules triggering. She had rejected sex, so she needed a new rule—and she needed to make one permanent.
She needed more people to rape her. She needed to let people know that they could rape her. She needed…
“Blake,” she whispered, “I need… I need to advertise that people can rape me. I need…” She paused, choking on what she was saying. “I need billboards, or internet ads, or…”
Blake’s eyes widened, and he laughed with genuine surprise. “We can make that happen, cunt,” he said. “I’ll book you some to coincide with your new movie. ‘Alyssa the Stupid Cunt wants to be raped’, in giant letters alongside the highway. How does that sound?”
It sounded awful. It sounded like it would ruin her life.
She mewled her thanks. And at the same time she chose a rule to become permanent. The rule she hated most. The rule about interpreting abuse as affection.
“Anyway,” said Blake. “Cunt here has made some poor life choices, and her guilty about what a worthless cunt she is has led her to make up some rules that she has to follow for herself. And every time she rejects a sexual proposition, she has to make up a new rule—or at least, the first rejection per man per day.”
There was intrigued muttering from the men on the call.
“Go ahead, Cunt,” said Blake. “Tell these men your rules.”
- 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 treat abuse as affection. (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 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.
- I need to advertise that I want to be raped.
Four more rejections 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.
The men on the video were clearly aroused by what they were hearing—and not entirely convinced it was real.
“Hey Cunt,” called out Michael. “What about me? Can I fuck you?”
“No…” whined Alyssa, not wanting to say it, but unable to stop herself.
A new rule formed in her head.
“Tell the men your new rule, Cunt,” said Blake.
“I keep getting in trouble when I try and talk back to men,” said Alyssa, mortified, “and Blake slapped me when I disrespected him just now. So now I can’t even formulate sentences that would give me control over my life or my body.”
“Tell me not to slap your tits,” said Blake. He raised a hand, threateningly. “If you tell me not to, I won’t do it.”
Alyssa opened her mouth—but the words weren’t there. They just wouldn’t assemble in her mind. She couldn’t even form the thought of telling him not to slap her.
So he slapped her hard across her naked tits, and Alyssa squeaked and flinched.
She was lucky that Blake cared about her so much, she thought. She was lucky to have an agent who loved her enough to slap her face and tits. She inched across the floor to be closer to his feet.
“How about me?” said Tom—the actor on the video. “Can I fuck you?”
She opened her mouth to say “no”—but the word “no” was gone from her mind. She couldn’t remember how to say the words necessary to not consent. So she just shook her head.
And another rule came.
“What’s your rule, Cunt?” asked Blake.
“I need to train myself to be aroused from pain,” she said, “so that I can be wet for men who want to hurt me.”
There was more laughter. Blake fished in his desk drawer and came out with four large-ish bulldog clips. “Here you go, Cunt,” he said. “Put these on your nipples and pussy lips.”
Alyssa did as she was told. They hurt—a lot—and her eyes were watery once they were on. But the pain just made her more grateful for the love that Blake was showing her. She had never realised how deep her feelings were for her agent before, but now she was understanding just how much he loved her, and how much she loved him in return.
“What’s that look for, Cunt?” asked Blake as she gazed up at him.
“I love you, sir,” she heard herself say.
Part of her mind told her this was wrong, this was the exact opposite of what she felt, and yelled at her to take control of herself, to end this degradation.
But she was trying to end it. Only Blake could make the arrangements to end the hypnotism. And he loved her. And she just had to be good to him to get him to help her.
“Do you want some cock, Cunt?” he said. He unbuttoned his pants, and pulled his dick out of his fly.
Her eyes widened. She did want some cock. She wanted to be used as a sex object. She wanted his delicious cum.
Blake turned the camera on his computer so it could see the whole office space. “Come on, bitch,” he said. “Crawl for the cock.”
He backed away from her, and Alyssa obediently crawled after him, mouth open, trying to put her lips on his erect dick as it bobbed and swayed in front of him. The clamps on her nipples and pussy lips swayed painfully.
He kept backing away from her. It was frustrating. She just wanted to suck his cock.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, sir…”
He laughed, and kept backing away. “If you put your dirty lips on your cock, I’m going to punish you, Cunt,” he said. “After I’m done fucking your face, I’m going to kick you in the tits and pussy. So you’d better not suck my cock.”
She didn’t care. She kept crawling, mouth open. And finally, she backed him up against a wall, and managed to get his cock in her mouth.
He grabbed her hair, and pulled her face tight against his groin. She could barely breathe. She felt herself wanting to choke. Blake was merciless, and began violently fucking her face, and just when she thought she might pass out, he finally ejaculated his sperm down her throat.
It was heaven. It felt so good. He released her, and she fell away, gagging, full of love for the agent that she adored. She felt herself orgasm, because after all, hadn’t she been raped? And didn’t rape make her orgasm?
Immediately, Blake began to make good on his threat. He kicked her in the tits with one leather-shod foot, then again, harder. The clamps on her nipples just made it even more painful. Then he nudged her legs apart with his foot, and kicked her hard in the cunt.
It was the most painful, degrading thing that had ever happened to her, and a veritable who’s-who of the film industry were watching it happen to her. And all that she could think of was how much she loved Blake, and how generous it was of him to kick her tits and pussy like this.
Part of her mind began to consider protecting herself, or crawling away, but she instinctively suppressed those thoughts. She had to do bad things to herself if she thought about how to avoid rape, so she just shouldn’t think about those things. She had had lots of practice at not thinking about it over the past few days. She thought in the future she might be skilled enough to never think about avoiding rape again.
And part of her instinctively tried to ask him to stop hurting her, stop kicking her—but the words wouldn’t form in the brain. How did someone even do that? Did words to think such a thing even exist?
She couldn’t protect herself or cover her tits or pussy. Her hands wouldn’t obey. Her legs wouldn’t close to stop him from kicking her in the twat. They stayed obediently open to leave her cunt defenceless.
And at the end of the day, if Blake wanted to kick her tits and cunt, wasn’t he probably right to do so? Because, just like all men, he was smarter than her, and he knew best.
He kicked and kicked her until finally she orgasmed again—orgasming through tears, and she didn’t know if the tears were pain or humiliation or love for Blake or all three.
Then he pulled her up by her hair so that the video call could see her clearly.
“I’m going to give you a choice, Cunt,” he said. “It’s the last choice I’m ever going to give you. You can only ask for one of these two things, do you understand?”
She did. She nodded.
“Either you can ask for me to remove your hypnosis,” he said. “Or”—and he smiled, evilly—“you can ask me to marry you.”
Her voice caught in her throat. She understood the cruelty of what he was asking her. She knew, deep down, that she needed to ask him to remove the hypnosis—that this was her last chance to do so, ever.
She opened her mouth to ask for it—and paused. She could marry him. She could ask him to marry her. She loved him so much. And he was implying that this was her last chance to ask for that, too. He was so kind and affectionate to her, the way he raped her and hurt her. She would be a fool to pass up a man like this…
No. She needed to ask for her hypnosis to be removed. She needed to… she tried to form the words in her head, but they wouldn’t come. They floated in her brain like cotton candy, vague and inchoate. She tried to speak, but she literally didn’t know how to move her tongue.
She was so stupid. She couldn’t even say the thing she wanted to say. Blake was so much smarter than her. And Blake loved her. Why was she trying to displease him, anyway? If she got her hypnosis removed, it was possible no one would ever feed her cum again. And she needed cum so much. Or worse yet, they might keep raping her—but she wouldn’t get wet from the rape, and she wouldn’t cum. Her hypnosis kept her safe and made her happy, didn’t it? Blake had arranged the hypnosis, and Blake loved her, and Blake was smarter than her.
There was really only one choice.
“Please, sir,” she breathed. “Would you marry me?”
There was uproariously laughter from the men on the video call—and from Blake.
“No!” he laughed. “No, you dumb bitch, as if I’d ever marry a disgusting slut like you.” He slapped her across the face and let her fall to the floor.
She felt herself crying—not from the slap, or from her lost chance at freedom, but because this man who abused her so affectionately wouldn’t marry her.
“You should never have rejected me, back before all this happened,” said Blake. “You should have just been a good little sex-toy for your agent, like every other starlet, and we wouldn’t have needed to do all this.” He kicked her in the cunt again, for emphasis.
“I’m sorry,” wailed Alyssa. “I’m…” But she stopped, because apologising might make her less likely to be raped, and the words would no longer come.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Blake. “You’re going to ring every man in your phone and tell them how much you like to be raped. And I think most of them are going to proposition you, and cause you to create a new rule for yourself. And we’re going to do that until you’ve got ten permanent rules—the ten rules you hate most. Understand?”
Alyssa just mewled with horror.
“And then I’m going to have mercy on you,” said Blake. “Because I love you, don’t I?”
Alyssa nodded her head enthusiastically.
“We’re going to take you back to the hypnotist, and free you from this ‘average availability’ condition,” said Blake.
Alyssa felt her heart jump with hope.
“Oh, not all the way,” said Blake. “We’re going to turn off the requirement to make new rules. After all, I think there’s only so much we can fuck up your life before you can’t manage the basic task of living. And we’re going to get rid of any rules you have that are still temporary.” He reached down and caressed her face. “But we’re going to keep all the permanent ones. They’re going to be permanent forever. After all, I like this new Alyssa a lot more than the old one. Don’t you?”
She didn’t. She hated it. She… but Blake was smarter than her. He must be right. She must be wrong. She clearly was more likeable like this.
“Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“Good girl,” said Blake. “So get dialling. And I’ll set up an appointment with the hypnotist. And when that’s all done… well, you’ve got a movie to make…”