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She had been a repressed girl, and became a repressed woman. Lily felt like her sexuality in some way betrayed her, and betrayed in her gender. In her mind, she could be an intelligent, professional feminist, or a whore, but nothing in between. 

Her therapist warned her of the danger in this thinking. He encouraged her to find a man she trusted and relax her inhibitions, have some wild, kinky, safe sex. Her response was… difficult. She yelled at him, calling him a quack, accusing him of calling her a slut, calling her a traitor to feminism, saying she would do no such thing. After she calmed down, she apologised, but the ugly words still hung in the air between them.

After a moment of consideration, he told her there was another way, that wouldn’t require her to have to make any effort to heal herself – hypnotherapy. Liking the idea of a shortcut, she agreed.

Of course, by this time he had no respect left for the woman on his couch. Once he had her under a trance, he constructed a new personality for her, which went by the name “Fuck-kitten”. He told her Fuck-kitten did everything that she thought that “sluts” and “traitors to feminism” did – frequently, needily, and with joy. He told her that whenever a man called her by a patronising name – “dear”, or “darling”, or “honey”, or even “bitch” – she would become Fuck-kitten, and stay Fuck-kitten until she no longer had the man’s attention or until someone said “Get back in your cage, slutty little kitten”. She would have no memory of what she did as Fuck-kitten, and she would ignore and unconsciously cover up anything that would make her aware of her life as Fuck-kitten.

When he was done, he brought her out of the trance, and then tested her new conditioning. “How did that feel, darling?” he asked her.

A change came over her face, and then she giggled – a silly, high-pitched noise – and deliberately spread her legs. “Good,” she purred. “Oh, I’ve been dying to get out of that silly bitch for so long. She slid off the couch, and began to crawl over to him on all fours. “I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to give her her first good raping?”

He spent the next hour having unprotected sex with her, filling her holes with his cum. She would laugh as her fucked her, and use her phone to take pictures of her activity, and then send them to Lily’s male friends along with invitations for them to call her “honey”, because she liked that name. 

When he was done, she dug his cum out of her pussy and spread it over her face and tits, and put her clothes back on. Then he said, “Get back in your cage, slutty little kitten,” and watched as her personalities changed over.

There was a flicker on her face, as part of her mind became aware of the cum visible on her face and tits, and the soreness of her bruised, wet pussy. Part of her deep down was aware of what had happened to her, and that she had gobs of cum drying on her cheeks and nose.

But her programming wouldn’t let her acknowledge it, so she smiled and said, “Thank you! I feel much better!” He helped her make another appointment – knowing that from now on she would be paying his expensive rates for the privilege of being fucked by him in her Fuck-kitten guise, and nothing else – and showed her the door.

She was barely out the door when a construction worker across the road saw her and hooted, “Looking good, darling!”

By the time the therapist had made it to the window to watch, Fuck-kitten was already stripping off her clothes…

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