Carly’s fetish was having her will overborne. She would download and eagerly listen to tapes full of hypnotic subliminal messages, and then dress up and go out with them running through her head.
Tonight her tape had given her only one central thought – “Please men”. She had gone out for a night at the local fair, and amongst the bright lights and gaudy signs, she had chosen to take a ride on the bumper cars. But as she rode, she saw men looking at her, looking at her brainless bimbo face, at her perky bra-less tits inside her shirt.
She knew they were imagining fucking her, imagining raping her. They wanted to see her tits and her cunt. She was displeasing them by covering herself. And so as she rode the ride she desperately struggled to undress herself, to be a good girl and please these men by letting them see her boobs and pussy.
She emerged from the ride dishevelled, half-nude, her cunt wet. Many of those around her were looking away from her exposed body, embarrassed or disgusted. But one man was standing in front of her, wearing a sharp suit, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and contempt.
“Come with me, slut,” he said, and turned and walked away. And she knew if she followed him, he would do bad things to her. He would hurt her. He would rape her. He would make her feel humiliated and degraded.
And it would *please* him to do so.
Her cunt had never been so wet. She got down on all fours and crawled after him…