Emma shouldn’t have cheated on her girlfriend. She thought she could get away with it – she was clever at lying, after all – but her girlfriend had been cleverer.
Her downfall had been those hypnosis sessions. Her girlfriend had been studying psychotherapy, and Emma, thinking it all a joke, had volunteered to let her girlfriend hypnotise her. Over several weeks, Emma let herself be lulled into a trance again and again, while her girlfriend whispered commands.
At the time she had thought the sessions positive. Under her girlfriend’s hypnotic guidance she had lost weight, studied more productively, and generally been more confident.
But her girlfriend had put other triggers in there, the most relevant being a series of commands for Emma if Emma was ever a cheating little slut.
The first was, of course, that Emma should admit her behaviour, which Emma did, tearfully, unable to stop herself confessing to an illicit encounter with a cute redhead. Her girlfriend gave her one last hate-fuck and then explained the other suggestions buried in Emma’s mind, triggered now by her unfaithfulness.
The first was that she would only ever orgasm if a man was involved in the sex somehow. A man could be fucking Emma, or just watching Emma, or Emma could fantasise about a man, but either way, for Emma, a lesbian, it was a terrible punishment.
The second was that she could only ever orgasm if she was doing something slutty, degrading or painful that she had never previously had an orgasm in association with. She would have to constantly seek out new depths of whoredom to have new orgasms.
The third was that every time she orgasmed she would post details and, if possible, pictures, to a public blog. Her girlfriend would have access, to keep an eye on Emma, but Emma would never know who else it might have been shared with or who might have full awareness of her slutty behaviour.
And the fourth was that, of course, she would *really, really* want to orgasm, *all the time*.
She cried when she heard and swore she would not be a whore, but by the afternoon of the next day she was visiting a male friend’s house and shyly asking if he would like to watch her rub her pussy. The next night she fucked herself with a dildo on webcam while anonymous men watched. Two nights later she 69ed a prostitute on her sociology lecturer’s office desk while he aimed his cock at her anus and masturbated.
Her biggest orgasm in that first month came from doing something she knew she could not take back. She got a male friend to photograph her in lingerie, with her tits out – and paid him for the help by giving her first blowjob, blushingly sucking his cock while desperately rubbing her pussy to get the orgasm it had earned her.
Then she put on bright red lipstick and kissed the photo, leaving kiss marks, and wrote on it in red pen, “Daddy’s Little Fuckpuppet”. She framed it, put it in a package addressed to her father, mailed it, and then walked home and frantically masturbated while crying, thinking desperately of how her father would react when he saw it until she reached her most humiliating, mind-blowing orgasm yet…
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