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As Abby crawled, naked and on all fours, into Richard’s cabin, the first thing she noticed was the heat of the wood fire in the fireplace.  After the cold evening air outside, it was a welcome relief, and she felt her whole body relax.

The second thing she noticed was the decoration.

On every wall was a picture of her – all taken at the humiliating porn photoshoot she had done with Richard in return for a delay on her debt repayments.  There she was, naked and cupping her tits.  In another, she was bent at the waist, spreading her ass cheeks.  There she was, bare titted, mouth open like she was about to suck a cock.  And in pride of place over the fireplace was the close-up of her cunt, with a single long rope of fuck-honey in mid-drip from her pussy lips – the photographic proof that exposing her body to Richard’s camera had made her aroused.

And superimposed over every image were words, in transparent pink block letters.  “GOOD SLUT” read one.  “PERFECT GIRL” read another.  “PRETTY AND FUCKABLE” said another.  “WELL DONE” said a fourth. 

On the close-up of her cunt were the words “THIS IS YOU”.

She looked up at Richard for an explanation, but he acted like there was nothing unusual.

“Would you like dinner, Rape-Udders?” Richard asked.

“Yes, please, sir,” she said.  She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until he mentioned food.

“Well, first you just need to complete a simple task,” he said.  He motioned her over to a table in the corner.  It was a low table, made out of colourful plastic.  It was the sort you would buy for small children and toddlers. 

On the table were some large sheets of white paper, and a set of big, childish crayons.

“It’s a fun task for a dumb slut like you,” said Richard.  “All you have to do, Abby, is draw me a picture of three people.  I want you to draw yourself – that is, Rape-Udders – and I want you to draw me, and I want you to draw that bitch Abby.”

She gave him a glare.  She was unimpressed by the continuous mindfuck he was trying to put her through, and she didn’t like the games he was making her play.  A little part of her was worrying what these little battles – over her name, over standing upright – were doing to her.  She felt all right – she knew she was Abby, and she knew that Owens was an asshole – but the combined effect of the mind games was beginning to make her feel a little off-balance.

“That bratty expression looks cute on you, Rape-Udders,” said Owens.  “And you’re quite welcome to look as cute as you want, as long as you do what you’re told.  That was part of the deal, remember – doing what you were told?”

“Three pictures?” she asked.

“Three pictures,” he confirmed.  “You, me, and Abby.”

She picked up the crayons and began to draw.  She felt infantilised by the task – the crayons and the table combined to make her feel like she was about five years old.  In addition, she wasn’t much of an artist, so she had to start with three simple stick figures.  She drew skirts on herself and Abby, to show they were women, and a crude suit on Richard.  She labelled them with their names, and passed it to Richard.

He looked at it.  “No,” he said.  “Kneel, and spread your legs wide apart.”

Not understanding, she did as she was told.

Richard knelt down next to her – and crumpled up the picture into a ball, and then pushed it into her pussy.

She squealed, and moved to take it out.

“Do NOT take that out, Rape-Udders,” he said.  “Right now, your pussy is a garbage bin for your bad bitchy ideas.  I’d advise you to get this task right before your garbage bin gets full.  Try again.”

She glared at him again.  She remembered him saying it made her look cute, which only made her scowl harder.

She wanted to pretend she didn’t understand what he wanted.  She wanted to make him explain it.  But she was uncomfortably aware of the wad of paper in her cunt, rapidly soaking through with her fuck honey.  It felt so wrong and degrading.  She was 100 per cent certain Richard would keep pushing her drawings up her cunt until she got this right.

She tried again.  What did she know about how Richard wanted her to see these people?  She drew Richard in the suit again, and Abby in the skirt – but this time she added stink lines and vampire fangs to Abby.  She looked comically grotesque. 

She looked at the stick figure for “Rape-Udders”.  Rape-Udders didn’t wear clothes, she knew.  She drew a little collar on Rape-Udders’ neck.  It still didn’t look right.  The stick figure didn’t look like a *woman*.

She thought – and then drew a pair of giant, crude, bulging tits on Rape-Udders, with a little nipple on each.  She paused, and then drew some on Abby, too – but smaller, like before she’d gotten her boob job.

She passed it to Richard, looking up at him hopefully for approval.

“Better,” he said.  “But still no.”  He crumpled it up, and pushed it into her fuckhole.  She blushed.

“Remember,” he said, “this is all happening to you because of that bitch Abby.  If she hadn’t been such a hateful feminist cunt, you wouldn’t be in this position.  Now try again.”

Abby tried again.  She drew Abby again, with the skirt and the tits.  Looking at the stick figure, she felt a sudden burst of irrational hatred at the image.  It was all very well for Abby to wear a skirt and say whatever silly things came into her head about how pornography was evil and Richard Owens was a rapist, but the result of all that was that she was here now, naked, with paper in her pussy and a shock collar around her neck.

She drew more fangs on Abby, and added more stink lines, and then she wrote the words “STUPID BITCH” next to the figure.

She drew Richard again in his suit.  She thought about what would please Richard.  She considered adding a little angelic halo, and decided that might be over the top, so she drew some pink love hearts around him instead.

And then it came to drawing herself – Rape-Udders.  She instinctively felt that this was what Richard had been unhappy with last time.  What had she done wrong?  She’d drawn the collar, and left the clothes off, and included her giant whore-tits. 

Suddenly it struck her.  She’d drawn Rape-Udders standing upright.

Quickly, she drew a stick figure on all fours.  She added her big cartoonish udders, hanging down beneath her, and then added her collar, and her high heels for good measure.  She gave the figure blonde hair – Abby’s had been brown.

Was that enough?  She looked up, and her eyes caught on the picture of the sex-juices dripping from her pussy above the fireplace.

She looked back at the picture, and added some little drops of liquid falling from Rape-Udders’ groin.  She worried it looked more like she was pissing than that she was horny, but thought that Richard might be pleased either way.

She labelled all three figures, looked at it again, and then, as a final touch, she wrote, “I’m sorry I’m a stupid bimbo slut, sir,” at the bottom, and signed it “Rape-Udders”.

She passed it to Richard, nervously – and when he smiled with approval, she felt a little thrill of pleasure go through her.

She immediately felt horrified.  She didn’t want to please Richard, and she certainly shouldn’t feel happy when she did.  He was an asshole, who was degrading and torturing her.  But… she had been so worried he wouldn’t approve, and she couldn’t help feeling satisfied that she had worked out what he wanted.

“This is perfect, Rape-Udders,” Richard said.  “We’ll put this up next to your bed.”  He walked to the far side of the room, where Abby realised there was a large, colourful dog-basket.  He used sticky-tape to put the picture on the wall right next to the dog basket, at Abby’s crawling-height.

“Sir, can I take the paper out of my pussy now?” Abby asked.

“Yes, Rape-Udders, you can,” said Richard.  “You can take it out, and eat it.”

She thought she’d misheard.  “Sir?” she asked.

“You heard me, slut,” said Richard.  “Take the paper out of your pussy, put it in your mouth, and swallow.  They’re your mistakes, and they happened because Abby is a bitch that you hate, and because you’re a dumb slut that thinks with her pussy, and you need to internalise that.  Take them out of your pussy, put them in your mouth, and swallow.  You can have dinner once you do.”

She knelt there silently, by the childish plastic table, desperately thinking of something to do other than obey.  She told herself she shouldn’t accept this, that she should leave, that she should defy Richard – but she didn’t have her car keys, or her wallet, or her phone, she was miles from civilisation, she was wearing a collar that would shock her if she stood upright, and she was naked.  She didn’t *have* any options.

Slowly, she dug the first piece of paper out of her pussy, and put it in her mouth.  She noted with shame that even though she hadn’t masturbated since she came inside, her pussy was even wetter now than it had been before.  The paper was a sodden ball soaked with slut-slime.  She placed it in her mouth unhappily.  It tasted of cunt and crayon.  She swallowed.

The second ball followed it.  Richard watched her with a smile that showed he knew just how fucked-up and degrading this was for her, and that he was enjoying every moment of making her do it.

She swallowed again.  She imagined she could feel the pictures of the big-titted crayon stick figures sitting in her stomach.

“Good bitch,” said Richard.  He left the room, into a small adjoining kitchen, and she heard the sound of a microwave humming.  Then he returned, carrying two metal dog-bowls.  Each one had “Rape-Udders” printed on it in regular black letters.  Abby realised he must have had them specially made before she even got here.

He showed her the dog bowls.  One was filled with milk.  The other had clearly once been a hamburger, but it had been cut up with a knife and a fork into small bite-sized chunks.

Then he placed both bowls on the fireplace mantel.

“There you go,” he said.

She looked up at him, pleadingly.  If she lifted herself up high enough to reach the bowls, she would get a shock from the collar – which he obviously was aware of.

“Please sir?” she asked.

“Please sir what?” he said.

She blushed.  “I’m sorry I’m such a stupid slutty cunt, sir, but can you bring the bowls down where I can reach them?”

“Humans don’t eat their meals on the floor, Rape-Udders,” said Richard.  “You should stand up, or at least bring them to the big table.”

Abby looked at the “big table”.  The chairs around it were uncommonly high.  She was pretty sure if she sat in one, her collar would shock her.

She whimpered.

He looked at her.

“Don’t you think you should eat your meals like a human, Rape-Udders?” asked Richard.

She blushed, and looked at the ground.

A minute passed.  Her stomach rumbled with hunger.  All she had eaten was her own fuck-ups.

“No, sir,” she said, in a very quiet, small voice.  “I can’t eat my meals like a human.  Please let me eat them like an animal.”

Richard laughed then – an honest, loud, cruel noise.  He lifted the two bowls down and put them on the ground in front of Abby.

“There you go, Rape-Udders,” he said.  “You have permission to eat your meals like the animal you are.  Remember, animals don’t use their hands.”

Blushing, Abby licked at the bowl of milk like a cat.  It tasted delicious – she had been dehydrated, she realised.  She lapped eagerly at the liquid with her tongue until the bowl was half-empty, and her mouth and chin were dripping with milk.  Then she leaned over the food bowl, and began to eat her hamburger with no hands, like a dog.  It felt demeaning, but she was so hungry, and the food was actually really good.

And whenever she raised her head from the bowl, her eyes fixed on the drawing on the far side of the room that she had just made.  There she was, on all fours, her giant tits hanging down, just like she was now.  Pissing like a dog, it looked like.  And there was Richard, with love hearts around him, whose approval had unexpectedly felt so good.

And beyond him, ugly, grotesque and hateful, labelled with the words “STUPID BITCH”, was the woman who had caused this whole situation – the woman called “Abby”….

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