Chris Swain already had an erection when he walked through Amelie’s door, and Amelie knew immediately where this was heading.
Amelie’s mind was still full of the memory of Ray Batsby’s leather shoe pushing up into her fuckhole, and conflicting thoughts of guilt, shame and lust were making it hard to think straight. “Good morning, sir,” she said – and then flinched. She didn’t call Chris “sir”. He was younger than her, and she was trying to assert her authority with him. She made up for it by taking a seat behind her desk, avoiding the couch where Chris had fucked her at their last meeting.
“Hi,” said Chris. From the second he walked in, he was staring at Amelie’s tits, not her face, and his hand moved unconsciously to rub at his crotch through his jeans. But he took the seat opposite the desk, and that was a good sign.
“So Chris,” Amelie began, looking at his file. “Tell me how you’ve been since we last met.”
“I’ve been good!” said Chris enthusiastically. “I’ve stayed away from girls, like you said. I haven’t raped anyone. I’ve just been thinking about what you said last time we met.”
Amelie blushed. “And what’s that?” she said.
“That I could take all those urges, and just take them out on you,” said Chris.
Amelie looked away. “Do you really feel that’s necessary, Chris?” she asked, her face flushed.
Chris looked alarmed. “You said I could! I’ve been good all week!”
“I’m your parole officer, Chris,” protested Amelie. “I really shouldn’t be having sex with you.”
“You seduced me!” said Chris, his voice growing angrier. “You cockteased me into fucking you! And then you said it wasn’t rape because you orgasmed.”
Amelie remembered. She felt her pussy throb. “I don’t think…” she began.
“Fine!” said Chris. “If I can’t fuck you, then I’m going back to the café where I bought my coffee this morning. There’s this pretty girl there with fantastic tits, and I was fantasising all morning about slapping her and ripping off her shirt and cumming on her boobs.” He got up from his chair and looked like he might leave.
“Chris, wait!” said Amelie, alarmed. “You can’t! You’ll go back to jail!”
“I don’t care,” said Chris. “I can’t help it. I just can’t stop thinking about sex.” He headed towards the door.
“Please, Chris, sit down!” said Amelie. In desperation, she began to unbutton her blouse. “Here, you can look at these!”
Chris turned back, lured by the promise of Amelie’s tits. As they sprung into view, his posture changed – relaxing slightly – but instead of returning to the chair at Amelie’s desk, he moved to sit on the couch, and patted the seat next to him, indicating Amelie should join him.
Amelie knew where this was going. She despaired. But she reluctantly moved across to the couch, and sat next to Chris, her bare tits on display.
Chris unzipped his fly, and took out his cock. Amelie was once again transfixed by its size and hardness.
“Could you, um, take care of it with your hand, while we talk?” asked Chris, a little bashfully.
Amelie bit her lip. She shouldn’t. But if she could make Chris cum with her hand, she might be able to stop this going any further. She reached out and took his cock in her hand, and began to slowly pump it.
“So tell me about this café girl,” said Amelie. “I thought I told you to avoid girls.”
“I didn’t go there to see girls,” said Chris, eyes closed, enjoying Amelie’s handjob. “I just wanted a coffee. But she was so sweet-looking, and with such amazing fuckmelons. And – well, you know how some girls would just look so pretty being slapped?”
Amelie did not, but she nodded, her head, not wanting to distract Chris from the possibility of cumming quickly.
“I think if I slapped her,” said Chris, “her mouth would pop open in a little O of surprise, and then her face would be all flushed – like, partly because I’d hit her, but partly because she was turned on. She looks like a slut. I bet slapping her would make her pussy gush.”
Amelie felt her own pussy throb again, and willed it to behave itself.
Chris opened his eyes. “Do you think I could… slap you?” he said. “Just a couple of times. You’d look pretty if you were slapped, too.”
“No, Chris…” demurred Amelie – but Chris ignored her.
“Don’t stop stroking my cock,” he told her – and then SLAP! He hit her across the face with an open palm.
Amelie couldn’t help it. She did exactly what Chris had described. Her mouth opened, she gasped, her face reddened – and her pussy became sopping wet.
She didn’t even notice she had done as Chris said, and kept pumping his cock as he slapped her – although she felt it twitch violently in her hand as Chris slapped her.
“Oh, fuck, it makes you look so hot,” said Chris – and he slapped her again. “Say thank you,” he told her.
“Thank you, sir,” gasped Amelie, still masturbating her abuser.
Chris’ eyes moved down to Amelie’s tits. He reached out and grabbed one in one hand – and then used his other hand to slap it – not once, but three times, hard. SLAP, SLAP, SLAP.
Amelie squealed. It hurt! The blows left a red mark on her tit, and she looked down at it in shock – just in time for Chris to slap her across the face again.
She felt like she was losing control of her breathing. She gasped in shock – and as she gasped, Chris slapped her again. She spoke, intending to tell Chris to stop slapping her – but what she said was, “Thank you, sir.”
And then suddenly Chris was on top of her. He was leaning forward, forcing her down on the couch, his knees spreading her legs. She was still pumping his cock right up until the point that he shifted, and her dress rode up to her waist, and she felt Chris’ cock poking at the entrance to her pussy.
Alarm spread through her. “No!” she said. “Please, Chris – I’m not on birth control! Please…”
“I’m sorry,” was all Chris said – and then he pushed his cock inside her.
It felt amazing. Amelie enjoyed the sensation of being fucked – but she had come to discover that she enjoyed being raped even more. The complete lack of control, the helplessness, the sense of violation, the presence of a strong and somewhat scary man holding her down – they all combined to drive her wild, and she immediately began bucking her hips frantically against Chris’ cock, moaning with lust – even as she began to beg, “Please don’t cum inside me. Please don’t cum inside me. I’ll do anything, Chris, just please – please…”
“You’ve got, like, government databases,” said Chris. “Do you think you could find me the name of that waitress? And where she lives? If you do, I won’t cum inside you.”
“Chris, no,” moaned Amelie. “You can’t rape her. Please.”
“I’m not going to rape her,” promised Chris. “I just… want to know. Like, maybe I can ask her out. Can you get them for me?”
She felt the speed of his fucking intensifying. He was going to cum soon. If he came inside her, she could get pregnant. Gary Sands had made her throw out her birth control.
“Okay,” she said. “Just tell me the café, and I’ll find it.” She didn’t think she had any ‘government databases’ that would have this information, but she could do some detective work herself, if it meant that Chris didn’t impregnate her.
“Happy Time Coffee,” said Chris. “Just down the road. God, that would be so good. Thank you.”
And with that, he pulled out of her pussy, moved up her body, and masturbated frantically for a few seconds. Then, with a groan, he ejaculated – all over Amelie’s face and tits. Some of it got in her hair. He wiped his cock clean on her cheek, then stuffed it in her mouth for her to clean off the last cum. Amelie suckled on it obediently.
Part of her wished Chris had fucked her a little longer. She hadn’t reached her own orgasm. Her pussy was still soaking wet. But maybe she could masturbate after Chris left.
“Oh, and, uh,” Chris began, “next time I come here, do you think you could dress up in, like, an apron? So I can take these fantasies out on you easier? It will help me to not rape her.”
With her mouth full of cock, Amelie just nodded.
“Thank you,” said Chris, with genuine gratitude. He climbed off her, and stuffed his cock back into his pants. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll see you next time.”
Amelie knew she should tell him to wait. They hadn’t discussed any of the things she was supposed to discuss during an interview. In fact, nothing had happened except that Chris had come in, raped her, and left.
But half dressed, wet-cunted, with cum on her face, Amelie was in no position to argue. She let Chris go.
As she heard the door close, she began to sit up, preparing to get some tissues and clean the cum off her – but she immediately froze. As Chris left, someone else had walked in at the same time. Gary Sands. The Lightning Rapist. Her next – and most terrifying client.
And he had his phone out. He was filming her.
He grabbed the visitor chair that was positioned near Amelie’s desk, and turned it around to face the couch, before sitting on it, leaning forward, grinning at her.
“Please, stay on the couch,” he told her. “And don’t bother cleaning up. You look good like that.”
She blushed, and began to tug at her skirt, trying to cover her pussy.
Sands’ face turned angry – terrifyingly angry. “I said leave it, bitch. Legs wide. Let me see that cunt.”
Amelie squeaked, and spread her legs. She blushed as Gary stared at her wet, puffy beaver.
“Do you remember what I asked you to do last time, Amelie?” asked Gary.
“Yes, sir,” said Amelie. “You asked me to obtain a Taser and put it in my desk drawer.”
“And did you do that, cunt?” asked Sands.
“Yes, sir,” said Amelie.
Gary set the phone down, leaning against a tissue box on a side table, where it could keep filming her. Then he rose and went to Amelie’s desk. He opened the drawer, and found the stun gun located within. He chuckled. “This isn’t a Taser, Amelie – but it will do. Good girl.”
While he was at her desk, he quickly rummaged in her purse. Amelie realised he was looking to see if she had replaced her birth control. He appeared satisfied with the result of his search, because he returned to his seat without comment, holding the stun gun. Amelie couldn’t take her eyes off the little metal handheld device. She shivered.
“Now, I think I’ll give the interview today,” said Sands, “and you can give the answers. Have you been a good girl this week, Amelie?”
Amelie blushed at the demeaning tone of the question. “Yes, sir,” she said, quietly.
“Now, when last we met, I think you were having trouble controlling your rampant sluttishness,” said Gary. “You were quite the wet-cunted little kitten. So I think you’d better tell me about your sexual activity since last I saw you.” He waved a finger at her. “And remember, parolees talk to other parolees. You’d better not leave anything out, or I’ll know.”
Amelie blushed. She didn’t want to tell this man anything – but last time they met, she had discovered that Chris Swain had told Gary that Amelie had fucked him. She couldn’t know who else might have chatted with this man.
“Earlier in the week I had sex with a client,” she said. “Jerome Walker. I… encouraged him to fuck me so he wouldn’t rape another girl.”
“Encouraged him to fuck you?” said Gary, sceptically. “But you were in a position of power over him, right? Do you mean you abused your position to obtain sex?”
“No!” said Amelie. ‘I mean…” She paused. Jerome *had* been reluctant to fuck her, at first. And she’d talked him into it. She blushed.
“It sounds like you raped that man, Amelie,” smiled Gary. “Say it for the camera. ‘I raped Jerome Walker.’”
‘I didn’t!” protested Amelie, distressed. She hadn’t – had she?
“I was going to keep this conversation private, Amelie,” said Gary. “But if you’re not willing to admit your crimes and take responsibility for them, I may have to share this footage around, so that you can get proper psychological help.”
What Gary was saying was insane. Get her help? Her mind was racing in circles. How must she look, in this film – half naked, and dripping with cum? She had just confessed to fucking a client. She didn’t want to say what Gary was making her say, but…
“I raped Jerome Walker,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor, blushing.
“Good girl,” said Gary. “I mean, you’re not a good girl, you’re a rapey little slut, but good girl for confessing. Now, what else have you done?”
“This morning I begged Ray Batsby to kick me in the pussy,” Amelie confessed, her face bright red. It was humiliating, but she thought there was a good chance Ray and Gary might be friends. “And then just now I gave Chris Swain a handjob, and then let him fuck me and cum on my face.”
“And once again, you were in the position of power there, weren’t you?” said Gary.
It hadn’t felt like Amelie was in charge of either encounter. But she *was* the parole officer, and they were the client – and anyway, she knew what Gary wanted to hear.
So she nodded.
“And so what did you do to them?” prompted Gary.
“I raped Ray Batsby,” said Amelie unhappily. “And I raped Chris Swain.”
As she said “Swain” a gob of cum dripped off her cheek and landed on her lower lip, falling into her mouth. She flinched. “Please, sir, can I clean off my face?” she begged.
“You can wipe the cum off your face with your hands if you then push it up your pussy,” said Gary.
If she did that, she could get pregnant. She chose to sit there in misery, with wet cum on her face.
“Now, I feel honoured that you’ve chosen me to help me hide your slutty crimes, Amelie,” said Gary. “Don’t worry, we can help you hide your disgusting rape addiction.”
Amelie blushed, and said nothing.
“Stand up,” said Gary. “Take off your clothes, and throw them out the window.”
He had made her do this last time as well. She had ended up using a spare garbage bag left by the cleaners to wrap up her body so that it looked like a black dress from a distance, and then stayed back in the office till well after closing time so that she could run downstairs to her car without anyone seeing her nudity.
She guessed she would be doing the same today. At least Gary was her last appointment. She pulled off her blouse and her skirt and threw them out the office window, watching them flutter down towards the dumpster below.
Gary Sands moved behind her desk, and sat in Amelie’s office chair. He took the phone with him, setting it up in a new angle to record what happened at the desk. He unzipped his fly and took out his cock. “Come, sit,” he motioned.
Amelie blushed and came and sat in Gary’s lap. She felt his cock slide between her cunt lips and penetrate her fucktunnel, and she moaned. Gary’s hands came up to cup her tits, and began to squeeze them gently, his fingers running back and forth across her exposed nipples.
“Now, tell me, Amelie,” said Gary. “Do you have access to the sex offender registry? Can you add and remove names?”
Amelie stiffened abruptly with fear. “I’m not allowed,” she said. “It’s not my job.”
Gary pinched her nipple, and she squeaked. “I didn’t ask if you were allowed,” he said. “I asked if you can do it.”
“Technically,” admitted Amelie. ‘My login credentials will let me.”
“Good girl,” said Gary. “Well, I want you to go into that database, and remove my name.”
“Please, no!” begged Amelie. “If I get caught, I’ll go to jail – and so will you!”
“How would you get caught, Amelie?” asked Gary. “What would alert them to you doing this?”
“If they searched for you, and you weren’t there…” said Amelie. “Then they could check and see it was me who removed you.”
“That’s presumably only if the person who checked knew I should be there,” said Gary. “And if someone already knew I was there, why would they search?”
Amelie couldn’t argue with that.
“Go ahead and do it, slut,” said Gary. “Or we’ll share this footage with your employer.”
Unhappily, Amelie leaned forward and typed on the keyboard. It felt weird to operate her computer while nude and impaled on Gary’s cock. It was also hard to think, because she was still so wet, and it felt *good* to be fucked.
She logged into the database, called up Gary’s entry – and then, shivering, she deleted it.
The text blinked, and vanished. She didn’t even have the necessary information to recreate the record. There was no going back now.
“Good girl,” said Gary. “And now add your name to the database.”
Amelie’s eyes widened. She struggled on Gary’s lap, and he had to hold her down, keeping her fixed on his cock.
“No!” she said. “No! Why? No!”
“Well, you just admitted to committing several rapes,” said Gary. “I think your name should be in the sex offender database. Don’t worry. No one will see it unless they search for it, right? And why would anyone search for it? Now, be a good bitch, and register as a sex offender.”
Amelie felt herself starting to cry. She didn’t want to do this. But she was trapped. Gary already had more than enough embarrassing behaviour on film to ruin her life. She really *had* fucked all those clients – which she definitely knew a parole officer was NOT supposed to do. And she had volunteered for each of them. She had asked all of them to do these things to her. It had been her choice.
“Please…” she begged again.
“Do as you’re told, and I’ll let you cum,” said Gary.
Amelie sobbed – and gasped, as Gary bounced her on his cock. She *was* close to cumming. Crying, and yet still flushed with lust, she leaned forward and created a new entry in the sex offender database. “Amelie Raimes,” she typed, and then entered her date of birth and address. In the “details” field, which was supposed to contain details of the convictions and court orders that had led to the registration, she didn’t know what to type. She turned her head to try and look at Gary.
“Type ‘slutty parole officer who rapes her clients’,” suggested Gary, and Amelie did as she was told. She pressed enter – and there she was. Her name, side by side with rapists, on a database telling the world that she was a rapist who couldn’t be trusted in most jobs.
“Look at the camera,” Gary instructed her. “And say, ‘My name is Amelie Raimes, and I am a sex offender.’”
Through her tears, Amelie did as she was told. She faced the phone and said, “My name is Amelie Raimes, and I am a sex offender.”
“Good girl,” said Gary. “Now, I know you’re thinking that as soon as I’m gone, you can just delete that entry again, but I know how to check that database as a citizen, and I’m going to be checking it regularly, to make sure you’re still there. And every morning, at 8 am, before you start work, you’re going to send me a fresh video of yourself, with your tits exposed, saying those words that you just said. Do you understand?”
Amelie sobbed. Gary pinched her nipple to get her to talk, and Amelie squeaked, and said, “Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to cum soon,” said Gary. “Do you want it in your pussy or on your face?”
“On my face, sir,” begged Amelie.
Gary nodded, grunted, and pushed Amelie violently off his lap. She banged her shoulder against the desk, then fell to her knees in front of him. Gary grabbed her hair, turned her to face his cock, then pumped his dick for a few seconds until finally cum spurted all over Amelie’s face, mixing with Chris’s sperm in a sticky white slutty mask.
“Leave that on you until you get home,” he told her. “Unless you feel like pushing it up your pussy.”
Amelie’s cunt was still throbbing. She reached down to masturbate.
Gary kicked her arm away.
Amelie whined. “You said I could cum, sir,” she protested.
“Go sit on the couch, slut, and spread your legs,” he told her.
She did as she was told.
Then Gary passed her the stun gun. She took it from him, uncomprehending.
“You can fuck your pussy with this,” he told her. “Except we’re going to play a game. When you orgasm, I’m going to show the film we’ve made to your boss.”
Amelie panicked. “No! You promised! You said…”
Gary sighed, reached out, and slapped her. He was the third man to slap Amelie that day, and she was becoming used to it. She fell silent.
“BUT,” said Gary, “if you do one thing, I’ll keep all this quiet.”
“What?” asked Amelie. “I mean, what is it, sir?”
“At the point where you feel yourself orgasming, I want you to discharge the stun gun into your cunt,” said Gary.
Amelie whimpered in horror.
“It’s your choice,” said Gary. “Either way, start masturbating.”
He had the phone again. He was still filming.
Whining in fear and humiliation, Amelie pressed the stun gun against her pussy. One of the long electrodes slipped between her pussy lips and up her fuckhole. It actually felt quite good. She worked the other side of the gun “barrel” into her pussy, and then began pumping it in and out. She moaned. She was so scared – so violated – so humiliated – and somehow all those things just made her wetter. She had been violated by three men today. She was such a slut. She was a sex offender – she was on the registry. She was letting a rapist violate her in her own office. She was….
She was about to cum.
Her mind raced. Part of her tried to delay the orgasm – and that only made it more powerful. Part of her tried to tell herself that Gary wasn’t serious, that if he shared the footage of her humiliation he’d go back to jail himself. It was all right to cum normally. It was all right not to hurt herself…
… but the part of her that was fully in Gary’s control didn’t believe that. It was the part of her that knew that Gary *had* to be called “sir”, because he *was* better than her, more commanding, more experienced. She belonged on her knees in front of him because she was such a slut.
And that part of her did as she was told. As she felt the orgasm hit, she pulled the trigger of the stun gun.
Her brain went white. Pleasure and pain fused in her mind. Her whole body shook and shuddered. She lost control of her bladder, and felt herself humiliatingly peeing on the couch, even as she orgasmed, and orgasmed again. Her mouth made nonsense sounds – slutty, brainless babble. She shook, and fell to the couch. The stun gun dropped from her hand, and fell out of her pussy, landing on the floor.
She couldn’t see straight. She couldn’t move. She could do nothing as Gary stood, and moved to stand over her. He reached down, and used two fingers to wipe a dollop of cum off her face. Then he pushed those fingers up her pussy, transferring the cum to her womb. He did this twice more – then he leaned down, and spat on her.
“Remember our deal, cunt,” he said, quietly. And then he left.
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