It was date night for Alyssa.
Last night, when Alyssa was at Rutlins’ party, her ex-boyfriend Harry had called her and told her to come over “so that he could rape her”. Alyssa had refused at first, then succeeded in getting him to postpone it to the next night – tonight – but there would be no further putting it off. Harry knew her secret – that she was hypnotically compelled to make up slutty rules for herself when she turned down sexual propositions – and he had shown no hesitation in exploiting it to punish her for disobedience.
She had driven home after the incident at the supermarket, with the intention of getting ready for her “date”, and then realised that she was still wearing nothing but a skirt, and her rules required permission from a man to let her dress herself.
She called Harry on her mobile.
“Hi, Harry,” she said, nervously. “What time do you want me?”
He laughed down the phone line at her. “You remembered! Good girl! The sooner the better, baby.”
“Would you… like me to dress up?” she asked, hopefully – and to her relief, Harry agreed.
“Sure,” he said. “Something sexy. I’m just going to rip it off you again, but pick something nice, with a short hemline. Just don’t be late – you’re in enough trouble with me already.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Alyssa confirmed, and hung up. Harry’s words were all the permission she needed to dress again. And best of all, it hadn’t involved thinking about avoiding rape – she had genuinely found out what would please Harry most.
In fact, Alyssa didn’t even *want* to avoid rape tonight. Her rules were getting out of control. She had just been publicly molested by a gang of men in the middle of a supermarket. Some of her rules were becoming *permanent*, and she felt like they were changing the way she thought. She had to get rid of more rules – so as vile as Harry was, Alyssa would let him fuck her tonight, without struggling, and then she would be able to remove two more rules.
She felt her cunt wettening at the idea of being raped. Her cheeks flushed, and her nipples hardened. It was distracting.
Before she went out, she took a moment to write out her rules. She was currently required to do this twice a day – now would be her second for today.
– I get wet at the thought of being raped.
– I like to make out with pretty girls while men watch.
– I can’t put on clothes without permission from a man.
– I write out my rules and a confession twice a day, and leave them where someone will find them.
– When a man shows interest in me, I ask if he’d like to squeeze my tits.
– When I’m with a man and don’t know if his cock is hard, I feel anxious and insecure.
– 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.)
– Every four times I reject a man, I make a rule permanent. (Permanent!)
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.
She meant to leave the paper where it was, but to her surprise, she found herself picking it up and putting it in her purse. She had to leave it where someone would find it, of course, but…
Oh no. She couldn’t.
But she knew she was. Her subconscious had decided she was going to leave it at Harry’s house. Where Harry would find it.
She whimpered and tried to take the paper out of her purse, but she couldn’t. Her mind was made up. It was going to happen.
There was nothing she could do about it. She resigned herself to her fate, and called a taxi. (She could have driven, she supposed, but she suspected Harry might want her to have a drink, and then she wouldn’t be able to drive home.)
The taxi arrived promptly, driven by a young man in his 20s. He was blessedly silent as Alyssa got in. She told him her destination, and he began to drive.
Almost immediately, Alyssa began to feel anxious. She looked over at the man – and then at his crotch. Did he have an erection right now? Probably not. He was just doing his job. She had tried to dress sexy, but if this driver didn’t even have an erection, how could she possibly please Harry?
She bit her lip, hard. This was ridiculous. She didn’t care whether some taxi driver was hot for her. Thinking like this would get her raped. She had to stop.
Only – that was thinking about how to avoid rape. She felt the thoughts slip out of her mind, as if they were made of smoke, and then, without even thinking about it, she found herself raising her butt out of the passenger seat, reaching under her dress, and pulling her panties down her legs, to eventually kick them off her feet and leave them in the footwell. Whenever she thought about avoiding rape, she had to take off a piece of clothing and leave it behind.
The driver looked across at her – and then, deliberately, down at her panties on the floor. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked.
She blushed. “Yes,” she said. Then, unable to help herself, she looked at his groin again.
She was going to say it. She couldn’t stop herself. She felt her face growing hot with shame.
“Um…” she said, “is your cock hard right now?”
He looked her up and down. “As a matter of fact, it is,” he said. “You’re a good looking woman.”
Another of her rules triggered. “Would you like to squeeze my tits?” she asked.
The taxi came to a stop at traffic lights. The driver looked at her again, and then said, “Don’t mind if I do.” He reached across and began to grope Alyssa’s boobs through her dress. It felt good. She felt her pussy throb, and she moaned softly.
“You know,” said the driver, “we could pull over. I know a private place a block from here, and we could take this further.”
She couldn’t. She should, but she couldn’t. She would be late to Harry’s, and then Harry would punish her…
“No,” she said, pulling away suddenly. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a tease, but… it’s complicated. But I’m in a hurry. I’m so sorry.”
And she *was* sorry. She felt guilty for being a cocktease – for making this man aroused, and then not letting him rape her. Was that her hypnosis? Or was it just basic politeness? She was a terrible person – a cockteasing slut. It was all the fault of her rules. Or was it? If she hadn’t thought about avoiding rape, she wouldn’t have taken off her panties, and if she hadn’t done that, this man wouldn’t have been so aroused. It was her fault for thinking about avoiding rape. She had to do better. She had to not even *start* thinking about that topic.
The man looked offended. ‘Teasing slut,” he murmured – but he returned his attention to the driving, and made no further moves on her.
Meanwhile, Alyssa had something else to think about. She had just rejected a man – again, like the little cocktease she was – and that meant it was time for another rule.
She thought about the driver calling her “teasing slut”, and how *right* that felt. More right than her own name.
That was her rule: she would feel upset whenever men called her by her name. She would prefer them to call her anything other than her name. Anything would do – “honey”, “sweetie” – but degrading names would feel best.
She eventually arrived at Harry’s house, and paid the driver – with another furtive apology for cockteasing him – and then approached the front door.
She was expecting Harry to greet her. She would come inside, let him grope her tits, and then he would rape her, as he had promised. But immediately she felt nervous. There were multiple cars parked outside Harry’s house – maybe ten in total – and loud sounds of conversation coming from inside.
She approached the front door and rang the bell. Harry appeared quickly.
“Hi there, Alyssa,” he said.
She blushed. “Um… please don’t use my name,” she said. “I like it when you call me other things.”
“What, like ‘cunt’?” asked Harry, laughing – and then smiling as he saw the blush of genuine pleasure that spread over Alyssa’s face.
“‘Cunt’ is okay,” said Alyssa. She of course felt deeply humiliated to be called that – in fact, she hated it, and hated Harry – but the hypnosis was producing a countering wave of pleasure at the idea, that left her feeling very confused and disoriented.
“Well, come on in, cunt,” said Harry, showing her inside, and closing the door behind her.
Alyssa wanted to run, straight away. There were another ten men in Harry’s lounge room, most of them with open drinks in their hands. They had been watching something on the TV – and a closer look revealed it to be porn, a film where a big-titted blonde was being anally fucked while she cried. There was a girl present too – a skinny long-haired teen – and she had her head in the lap of one of the men. Alyssa realised she was giving the man a blowjob.
“Harry, no,” said Alyssa, quietly. “This isn’t what I agreed to.”
Harry widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Are you… rejecting my sexual proposition, cunt?” he asked.
Alyssa’s mind churned. She didn’t want to say yes to this. She was going to not just get raped – but get *gang-raped*. This was more than she had bargained for. She had to think of a way to avoid this happening…
And just like that, the thought vanished from her mind. She couldn’t think about avoiding it. She found herself stepping out of her high heeled shoes, and kicking them into a corner. She wouldn’t be wearing them again.
“No, Harry,” said Alyssa, meekly.
“Good cunt,” said Harry. “You remember I filmed you last time we had sex? Well, I got a good price for that film with a private collector, who wanted to see a celebrity bitch being a whore. So we’re going to film some more tonight. But first, you disrespected me last night. A cunt like you should show up to get raped when a man tells her to – not ‘reschedule’. So come over to this couch and lay over my lap – it’s time you got a spanking.”
“Please,” said Alyssa, “you were just going to rape me. Can’t you just…”
“Listen up, cunt,” said Harry, sitting himself on the lounge and tugging Alyssa down until she was lying face-down over his lap, her ass up. “You’re going to do as you’re told. And if you not only cooperate, but actively try to please us, I might go easy on you. And if you’re at all difficult, we’ll have some fun with your rules.”
Some of the men were picking up cameras – real cameras, for filming movies. Harry pulled at Alyssa’s skirt, and as it came up, it revealed her bare ass and pussy to the gaze of all the men. She squirmed unhappily.
“Now, ask for it, cunt,” said Harry. “You want to please us, remember?”
“Please Harry… “ said Alyssa quietly. “Please, sir – I need to be spanked.”
“Good cunt,” said Harry. He raised his hand, ready to strike her ass. “Now, let’s begin.”