The night the men broke into her house was Kathryn’s first experience of having her clothes taken away from her, but it wouldn’t be her last.
Stripped naked, and helpless, she was sullen and pouty, because she knew that she had no options, here in a house full of unsympathetic, laughing men. She would have to sit with her legs spread as she was told until they let her dress again.
They were photographing her naked body, taking her bank cards, giving themselves access to her accounts. Her life and finances were in their hands. They told her that she could have her money, and the photos would be private, providing that she played their little game from now on. A bitch like her just needed to learn that she wasn’t in control of her body, that was all.
The rules were simple. She had to strip naked before bed, before showering, and before using the toilet. She wasn’t allowed to put any new clothes on, of any sort, ever, without being told to by a man.
She was not allowed to ask for that permission from anyone except one of the men in this room. She was given a phone number to ring for that permission, but she would first need to send a photograph of herself naked, and a photo of the clothes she proposed to wear, before she would be allowed to dress again. If the clothes she asked permission to wear were not slutty enough, permission would be denied, and she would be required to either make the clothes sluttier with a pair of scissors, or throw them in the bin.
Sometimes they would give her things they wanted added to her outfit. “Add a vibrator,” they told her one day, and she was forced to go into work blushing with a humming dildo stimulating her fuckhole.
“Bare-titted,” said another, after she had showered prior to a dinner with her brother, and she ended up entertaining her brother with her boobs on display, trying to pretend everything was normal and hoping for an instruction from him to cover her tits that never seemed to happen.
“Semen on your face,” said a third, after she had used the toilets at work, and she faced the nightmare of sneaking out of the office completely nude, luring an anonymous stranger into an alleyway, and having him jack off on her face, before returning to work – in an outfit that was already panty-less and bra-less – and trying to pretend that she didn’t have a stranger’s cum drying on her cheeks and eyelids.
Before long it began to seem natural to her that she had no control over her state of dress. After all, she was a woman who dressed and acted like a slut, who let strangers cum on her if an anonymous voice on the end of the phone told her to. Should a woman like that make decisions for herself? Of course not. And when they told her that, soon, strangers would come to her house each night to fuck her, and would leave money that she must forward on to an anonymous account, that seemed right too, because of course she was too much of a slut to make her own decisions about how and when she should be fucked…
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