Hailey had heard about the Feminine Affirmation course – her friends swore by it. It was supposed to help women find the “real them”. Hailey, suffering from self-confidence issues and insecurity, took the plunge and attended the course.
Naturally, the course used hypnotherapy. If this were another story, it of course would have suggested to its entranced participants that they were all disgusting sluts, and they would have gone out knowing that they were. But the course was genuine. It was really, deeply interested in helping women become empowered.
The truth was that, really, Hailey did it all to herself. Because she didn’t want to admit it, but she already knew what she was.
The hypnotism suggested to the women that they should write their name on a piece of paper, and then the title of the job they wanted below it, and then stare it for fifteen minutes each morning and visualise themselves in that job.
They were supposed to write “manager” or “director” or “senior partner”. Hailey stared at her paper for a long time, before beginning to write. She squealed as she saw what she was writing and tried to stop, but couldn’t. Slowly, in pretty feminine handwriting, she wrote “Hailey – Rapetoy” on the paper. She put it on the wall, and from then on each morning she obediently stared at it and imagined being used as a cum dump by anonymous men, without choice or defence. She tried to believe something was wrong, but deep down she knew why she had written this, and it was the same as the reason why her cunt was always dripping wet when the fifteen minutes were up.
“Act in a way consistent with the goals you want to achieve in life,” the hypnotism had instructed her. So now she crawled wherever possible, kittenishly purred and nuzzled against her guests’ legs, and made dates with male friends to watch female-degradation porn with them.
“When you undress, start by removing the clothes that suit your identity least. When you dress, try and dress consistently with the job you know you deserve,” the hypnotism had continued.
On the evening of the final day of the course, Hailey had visited friends. It was the custom in their house to remove your shoes at the door. Hailey was wearing what she thought of as her “hooker heels”, that gave her a faint blush of lewd excitement to wear from time to time. When she thought about removing them, though, the hypnotism took over, and instead she reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down and off. They were the clothing item that suited her least.
She blushed and tried again. This time, instead, she removed her jacket, then shirt, then blouse. Her tiny microskirt was the last to go, but it still went before the shoes, until at last she was standing in her friends’ hallway nude but for her heels. Flushed with humiliation, she fled before her friends could see her, which was not terribly smart as now she had no clothes, was naked, and had a long journey home. She had a lot of time on that walk to think about why the heels suited her more than the rest of her clothes.
Upon returning home she intended to get dressed, but upon contemplating her clothes, all she could bring herself to put on was a slutty pink G-string, which became immediately soaked with her cunt juices when she put it on, because she had become quite wet on the journey home. When her friends came to check on her, wondering what had happened, they found her lying on her lounge in G-string and heels, frantically masturbating and oblivious to the world around her.
The last instruction was in many ways the worst for her – “Introduce yourself to others so they will see you as the person you want to be.” She discovered what it meant for her particular psyche when she ordered pizza for dinner that night. The pizza boy arrived at the door, and she greeted him still nude but for the G-string and heels. She tried to say, “Hi, I’m Hailey,” but instead she said, “Hi, my name’s Bunny” – a name she had once heard for a stripper which she thought sounded cute – and then she dropped to her knees, kissed his cock through his pants, and began to unzip him so she could suck him to orgasm.
She realised as she sucked happily at this stranger’s dick that this was how she would greet every male from now on. Not because the hypnotism had been cruel or unfair, but just because it had encouraged her to reach her full potential as the person she wanted to be. It was entirely her own fault that she was fucked up enough to want to be a brainless sextoy. She had enslaved herself.
And the thought made her so happy that she moaned around the pizza boy’s cock, and then squirmed happily as he ejaculated into her mouth…
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