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One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen
For the rest of the day, Richard made Abby play a game called “Bitches, Role-Models and Fuckdolls”. He sat her at a laptop computer on the low plastic children’s table, and guided her hand to her pussy.
“Masturbate, but don’t cum,” he told her, and Abby began to obediently finger herself.
The laptop turned out to be set up to serve her an endless stream of pornographic images. For each image, she had to categorise it as “Bitch, Role-Model or Fuckdoll”.
“Role Models” were girls that Rape-Udders should aspire to be like. Every time she categorised one of these images, a microphone prompt would appear, and she would have to say “Good girls should…” and something relevant to what was aspirational about the image.
Abby didn’t really find these images aspirational – they disgusted her – but she knew what Richard was looking for.
“Good girls should have cocks in their mouths,” she said, of a big-titted slut giving a blowjob.
“Good girls need to be disciplined,” she said, of a picture of a nude big-titted woman recoiling from being slapped across the face.
“Good girls lez off with other bimbos,” she said of two fake-titted blondes licking each other’s pussies.
The second category, “Fuckdolls” was for women who were roughly as slutty as she was, but not moreso. For each of these, she had to explain why they weren’t the equal of a man, or why they weren’t entitled to be viewed as humans, while speaking as if she were the woman in the picture (which is to say, starting sentences with “I…”).
“I’m too dumb to understand boy things,” she said, of a big-titted woman in pigtails.
“I only think with my cunt,” she said of a woman with her legs spread.
“I need men to tell me what to do,” she said of an elegant nude woman in high heels.
“I’m just a brainless pair of tits,” she said of a photo of a blonde slut – before realising that it was a photo of *her*. She blushed.
The last category was “Bitches” – women who were awful and deserved punishment. Almost every woman in this category was wearing clothes. Roughly a third of them were pictures of pre-boob-job brunette Abby. For each of these, she had to explain how they deserve to be punished – but again, use the word “I”.
“I deserve to have my cunt whipped with a belt,” she said, looking at a photo of herself.
“I deserve to be repeatedly raped,” she said, looking at a photo of herself.
“I deserve to be spat on and slapped,” she said, looking at a photo of herself.
“I deserve to have to piss in the woods like an animal,” she said, looking at a photo of herself.
As she worked her way through the images, Richard came by two more times, and each time he casually masturbated to ejaculation. The first time he came in her hair. The second time he came on her neck and breasts. Having no permission to clean it off, she let it drip and dry. And each time she thanked him. “Thank you, sir, for cumming in my hair and using me as your cum-target.” “Thank you, sir, for decorating my dumb bimbo tits with your sperm and helping me look pretty.”
In truth, she found this insanely arousing. There was something about the casual way he did it – not even bothering to catch her attention, just discharging his cum at her as if she were an object or a cum-rag or a toilet – that made her cunt get sopping wet every time. She hated herself for feeling this way, but that didn’t change the fact it drove her wild with lust.
And of course, each time he did it, she leaned over and licked his cock clean afterwards. It was only polite, after all.
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