The small conservative community Monica lived in disapproved of her decision to get giant fake whore tits.  She found that the local shops would no longer sell her normal clothes.  “I don’t want people seeing my clothes on a stripper’s body,” said one shopowner.  “Missy, I don’t think you rightly deserve to pretend to be decent folk,” said another, “but I think I’ve got some hooker gear out back, that I usually save for wives trying to please their husbands.”

She made do with the clothes she had for a while, until one night when she woke up to find intruders in her house.  They wore ski-masks, but she thought she recognised one as the pastor of the local church, and another as the shopowner who had offered her “hooker gear”.  They held her down in her bed and took turns fucking her, and when they were gone she discovered they had stolen all of her clothes, leaving her only her high heels and most revealing lingerie.

In the morning, she called the police, but the local sheriff said, “Doesn’t sound like much chance of catching anyone, miss.  And besides, the way I heard it, sounds like you were asking for it.”  He declined to bring her any clothes.  ”That’s not my business, miss.”

She blushingly shuffled down Main Street in nothing but high heels and underwear, trying to avoid the disapproving stares of the townsfolk, and went into the closest clothes shop.  She begged the man to sell her some real clothes, even though she suspected he had had his cock in her cunt mere hours earlier.  He refused, but did sell her some more underwear.  Every piece displayed copious titflesh, bared her nipples, or had cut-out windows for her cunt and ass.  She initially demurred from purchasing the embarrassing outfits, especially as he would only offer it on trade – two pieces of her old concealing underwear for one of his – but she reluctantly and unhappily agreed after he threateningly said, “Seems like you should trade in all your old stuff, miss, before someone needs to come and take it from you.”

She tried to order more clothes online, but when the postman came, he showed her the package.  Someone at the post office had crossed out her name on the address and written “Big-Titted Whore”.  “Reckon I better check your tits before I hand this over, ma’am,” he said, grinning, and she was forced to blushingly expose her breasts for his inspection.  Afterwards, he insisted on opening the box for her on her doorstep, and when he discovered there were clothes inside, he confiscated them.  “Seems like there’s been a mix-up, ma’am,” he said.  “Everyone around town knows you’re a whore, and these are nice girl clothes.  I’ll see if I can find them their right home.”

She closed the door on him in frustration and went to have a shower, but when she emerged naked from the bathroom, the postman was standing in her hallway.  He pushed her up against the wall and began to roughly fuck her.  “I heard you’d been forgetting to tip for service, ma’am,” he said as he penetrated her ass with his cock, “but I didn’t fully believe it until just now.  I reckon in future when a man sees fit to interact with you, you’d better give him a tip.  I reckon pleasing his cock with one of your holes or your tits should do just fine.”

“How did you get in?” she gasped.

“Fellows who came to visit you the other night took copies of your keys,” he said.  “Everyone in town’s got one now.  We figured a woman with tits like yours probably wanted to be sociable.  A lot of men around town carry guns so if you find one in your house, I’d advise to be *very* sociable.”  He pulled out of her ass in order to ejaculate on her face, and then left.

Over the next few days, she started to get used to going around town in nothing but revealing underwear.  Still, it was hard.  The grocers had come up with a special way for her to shop, that most other stores in town adopted too.  Upon entering the store, she would be asked to remove her bra, and then a basket would be attached to her nipples by chains and nipple clamps.  She would be told to put everything she intended to buy in the basket, and of course each new item increased the painful pull on her tits. 

“It’s our diet plan to help you keep in shape, miss,” said the grinning grocer.  “Lot of incentive here to buy less food, if you understand.”  He would only let her into the store at all on Tuesday and Friday mornings – “when there aren’t too many decent folk for you to scandalise” – so she couldn’t even make multiple small runs, rather having to hang all her food for the next several days from her tits on each trip.  At the end, after paying, she would give the grocer his “tip”, kneeling and sucking his cock behind the counter, her groceries still suspended painfully from her tits.  He always made a point of pulling out of her mouth, opening the milk bottle she was buying, and ejaculating into it.  She knew she would drink it anyway.  She couldn’t afford not to.

She tried calling an out of town locksmith to change the locks in her house.  The man who turned up didn’t even listen to what she wanted, instead handcuffing her hands behind her back, welding a heavy iron collar around her neck, leashing her collar to her bed with a chain and another lock, and then raping her pussy.  When he was done, he fitted her with an iron chastity belt that featured buzzing dildos that penetrated her fuckhole and anus.  He put locking high heels on her feet – she could feel many small spikes poking her soles from the shoe, and realised she would not be able to stand up while wearing it, only crawl.  He clamped more buzzing capsules to her nipples, and capped it off by locking a gag into place around her mouth.  The gag was a thick cock-shaped piece of plastic that filled her mouth.  She moaned in protest as best she could around the cock-gag.

“The dildos in your pussy and ass can read your biorhythms.  They’ll buzz all night but they’ll stop if they feel you about to cum.  The one in your mouth will excrete a chemical made up of semen and some other stuff if you suck on it, or ejaculate a bunch of it all at once if you suck a lot.  You’ll find it will make you happy, and also very horny, and it’s a little bit addictive.”

“All the men in town have keys to this, and we have a roster, so a different one will come by every morning.  We expect you to lock yourself up in this every night, or find a man to help you, so if you’re not in it when we come in, there’ll be consequences.  It’s up to each man how much of it he lets you out of for the day – if he wants you to crawl all day with a plastic cock in your mouth, that’s up to him.  I expect you’ll be very eager to give him a very nice tip after sucking your cum drugs all night.”

He slapped her ass as she lay there in misery.  “Don’t you cry, missy.  You volunteered for this when you got those whore-tits of yours.  You see, we know how to treat a whore around here.  Now you just lie there while I make some modifications to your house.  Don’t reckon a slut like you needs the privacy of curtains or interior doors.  Might put a “males only” sign on your restroom – reckon you can shower and toilet in the front yard where everyone can see.  And over the next few days we’ll see if we can’t get some nice photos of you being raped, and blow them up and put them on your walls to remind you what you are…”

===

If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love my e-book Harlot’s Hymn – Stories of Religious Corruption and Lustful Worship, available in the store for only $3.99 USD! (Click here to view.)

===

2 thoughts on “Story: Small Town Values, Part 1

Leave a Reply