Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
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Dr Kepler had drugs for Courtney in the morning – three colourful, mysterious pills.
“What are they?” asked Courtney, her hands still clipped to the headboard of the hospital bed.
Dr Kepler’s brow furrowed. He put down the pills on the bedside table – and then slapped Courtney across the face, hard – one, two, three times – and then a final slap for her naked tits.
Courtney squealed and jerked against her restraints.
“Good cunts don’t ask questions, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler. “They do as their doctor tells them. Treating your disobedience will be a high priority for us, and we will need significant progress before you will be allowed to return home.”
He offered her the pills again. Helpless, Courtney opened her mouth and took them, and then accepted a small sip of water from a cup to help her swallow them.
Dr Kepler then moved between Courtney’s legs. Her pussy had been unclamped somewhere in the night – she vaguely remembered waking briefly in agonising cunt pain – and her pussy lips were spread wide open.
“Urinate for me, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler.
It was another pregnancy test, and Courtney had no choice but to comply. She would lose control of her bladder eventually in any case – there was no dignity to be had in this “hospital for bitches”. She blushed as she pissed on the test in front of Dr Kepler.
When she was done, Dr Kepler took out his cock, shoved it into her pussy, and raped her. As usual, Courtney found she was wet for rape, and she orgasmed before Dr Kepler was done. Once he had filled her cunt with his cum, he clamped her vulva shut again, and then left.
A few hours later he returned. He had a collar of some kind in one hand, and headphones in the other. He placed the collar around Courtney’s neck, and clicked its catch to secure it in place. She could feel metal studs underneath the collar pressing into the front of her neck.
“What is this?” she asked – and again was rewarded by multiple slaps to her face and tits. She felt tears welling in her eyes at the pain.
“Good cunts don’t ask questions,” said the doctor again. Then he placed the headphones over her ears.
They were large, noise-cancelling earmuffs, and as soon as they were in place, Courtney could hear nothing but the sound of her own blood pumping in her body. She was trapped in an eerie, claustrophobic silence.
She looked at Dr Kepler. His lips were moving – he was saying something – but she couldn’t hear a word. She gave no response, and he seemed satisfied. Then he took out his phone, and pressed something on the screen.
The headphones were silent no longer. Now Courtney could hear a calm, commanding male voice, speaking quietly in her ears. She felt like she almost had to strain to hear him, and lie very still and concentrate to not miss his words – but not *not* try to hear him, to have him as a buzzing sound she couldn’t quite understand, was somehow worse.
“You are a slut,” he was saying. “You are born to breed. Your body is born to be impregnated. Your tits exist to make milk like a cow. Your brain exists to help you get raped and impregnated. You are an animal that makes babies. If you are not pregnant, you are worthless. It is not your choice whether you are impregnated – it is your destiny. Impregnation is not your choice – it is a thing that will inevitably happen to you, again and again. It is the only thing that gives your life purpose.”
The words were horrible – but the slow, steady tone they were spoken in was calming and soothing. Courtney felt like she could fall asleep to its measured, baritone assurances. She felt her breathing calming and becoming more relaxed.
And then, suddenly the voice of a woman spoke. It was shrill and panicky, and felt like nails on a chalkboard to Courtney’s ears.
“I’m a feminist, and I have rights,” said the voice.
And as it spoke, the collar around Courtney’s neck discharged a powerful electric shock into her.
Courtney screamed, and arched her back, her muscles going taut. Her hands yanked at the restraints connecting her to the bedhead. She wanted to claw at the collar, and rip it from her neck – but she was powerless to do so.
Dr Kepler nodded approvingly, and left the room.
But the male voice returned to Courtney’s ears. “Women are inherently stupid,” it said. “They need to be guided by men. Bitchy women need treatment. They need to be slapped and beaten. Good cunts don’t ask questions. Good cunts spread their legs. Good cunts long for their udders to swell with milk and their bellies to swell with a baby. Good cunts are happy in serving men. Good cunts breed. You want to be a good cunt. It’s the only thing that gives your life value.”
And then the woman’s voice again. “No means no! I don’t consent!”
ZAP!
Courtney felt herself crying. It wasn’t just that the shocks were painful, but that they were so sudden, making her whole body spasm. She would do anything to avoid receiving another such shock – and yet she was powerless to prevent them.
All she could do was hope that the woman didn’t speak again – that she kept her mouth shut and her opinions to herself.
“A woman deserves to be in pain,” the male voice told her. “A good cunt learns to orgasm from pain. A good cunt knows that her breasts deserve to be in agony. A good cunt orgasms from the pain of being milked. You want to be a good cunt. You want to obey. You want to learn how not to be a bitch. You want men to slap you until you learn.”
And then the woman spoke.
“Men are pigs! I hate them!”
ZAP!
Courtney found herself screaming out loud. “Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up, you dumb cunt!” But she couldn’t hear her own screams or words through the headphones.
She had never hated anyone as much as she hated the woman on the headphones.
The voices in her ears continued. The man told Courtney that she was a slut fit only for breeding, and that she deserved abuse, and that her opinions were worthless, and she was grateful for these statements because they were calming and they brought her no pain.
And then the woman would speak, saying something stupid about rights and dignity and consent, and Courtney would be shocked, and she would weep and scream her hatred at the woman.
Over time the woman spoke less and less often, her interjections coming at first only minutes apart, and then every 10 minutes, then every 15, and then every twenty, until eventually she would only speak once every half hour. But that was still too much for Courtney, and the shocks she received when the woman voiced her horrible bitchy opinions never became less awful.
Around an hour after she had received the headphones, a young man in street clothes came in. He removed Courtney’s pussy clamp, shoved his cock into her, raped her, and ejaculated into her womb, before replacing the clamp and leaving. He said nothing to her – not that Courtney would have heard him – instead treating her like nothing more than a receptacle to receive his sperm, or a sex toy to masturbate into.
During this rape, the woman spoke in Courtney’s ears, suggesting it was wrong to treat women like objects or animals, and when the shock came, Courtney found to her surprise that it pushed her over the edge into a confusing, shuddering orgasm. She orgasmed again a few moments later when the man ejaculated into her.
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The headphones became Courtney’s world for the next three days. Dr Kepler never took them off her, and they never stopped bombarding her with the suggestion that she was a stupid animal that needed to be impregnated. She came to loathe the woman and all of her opinions with a deep passion. She didn’t bother talking during those days as she couldn’t hear her own voice anyway.
Twice a day, Dr Kepler fed her the new pills, and Courtney swallowed them without objection. She was raped about five times a day, every man ejaculating in her cunt before clamping it shut again, and she thought she was probably raped a couple of times each night as she slept. In the mornings she was made to piss on a pregnancy test.
By the third day she became aware that something was changing. Being raped was becoming more painful – her cunt flesh was increasingly sensitive, and every thrust of her rapist’s cock hurt. Not in the sense that it was rubbing her raw or damaging her – but that the nerves in her groin appeared to have been sensitised. When she was being fucked, it was impossible to think about anything but the pain of the cock sliding into her – and that pain mingled with the deep sexual pleasure that she still felt from being penetrated. She orgasmed now from mingled pain and pleasure, in ways that confused her.
Her breasts, too, felt more sensitive. The merest brush of air across them made her gasp, and her nipples stand erect. Sometimes they seemed to ache for no reason at all.
On the fourth day, Dr Kepler removed her headphones and asked her how she was feeling. At first Courtney didn’t speak at all, having become used to silence – and also filled with the certainty that speaking, or voicing an opinion of any sort, would cause a shock from her collar, as it did when the woman spoke in her ears.
Dr Kepler eventually had to slap her to get her to speak, and when he did, she confessed to the new sensitivity in her cunt and tits.
“Ah, then the drugs are working,” said Dr Kepler. “We find it is very instructive to focus a woman on her breasts and vagina, as they are the only important parts of her body. As their sensitivity increases, you will find it increasingly difficult to think about anything other than your womanly attributes and your destiny as a breeder. Many women find that the only thing that makes the constant sensitivity bearable is to be sexually aroused, and fall into a habit of constantly thinking arousing thoughts and stimulating their pussy in order to manage the pain.”
He laughed. “And of course, if you think your breasts ache now, you can only imagine the agony they will be in once they swell with milk and need to be pumped.”
“Please, sir, stop this,” whined Courtney – and now her collar *did* shock her.
“Ah, still some bitchiness in you, I see,” said Dr Kepler. “And yet, the treatment progresses.” He stroked her hair. “Tell me, Courtney, would you like to go home?”
Her eyes widened with hope and – scared to speak out loud – she nodded vigorously.
“You can go home when your preliminary obedience training is complete,” said Dr Kepler. “You can go home when we know you will obey our further instructions, even at home.”
She thought about the power they held over her, the blackmail material, the documents she had signed saying she would owe them millions of dollars if she backed out of treatment. They already controlled her. She had no choice but to obey.
She tried to signal her obedience with her facial expression, without speaking.
“Oh, you think you are ready?” Dr Kepler laughed. “I am not so sure, Courtney. But I will give you a chance.”
He unclipped her hands from the bed – and clipped them to a leash.
“Come, Courtney,” he said. “Let us take you to the obedience test.”
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