Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
===
It was time for relationship counselling again – and Bella didn’t want to go.
“It was so embarrassing last time, Charles,” she objected. “And I had to suck that man’s cock to pay for it. And he just told me that I was stupid and worthless.”
“But, honey, you ARE stupid and worthless,” said Charles. “You know you’re stupid, don’t you?”
Bella opened her mouth to object – and then blushed. Just that morning, she had panicked because she had forgotten how to spell her name. Her phone and computer always introduced spelling errors into it when she typed it or read it – it would be “Bela” or “Behla” or “B-La” – or sometimes just “Bimbo” or “Bitch”. She had blanked out in the middle of typing a sentence, suddenly unsure whether her name had two Ls in it or just one – and she had only resolved the issue by remembering that her phone would just change it to a misspelling no matter what she typed.
Smart girls didn’t forget how to spell their own names. Smart girls read real books, instead of porn and celebrity magazines. Smart girls *certainly* didn’t wipe their asses with their university diplomas and then flush them down the toilet.
“This kind of bitchy disagreement is exactly why you need counselling, Bella,” said Charles. “It’s no wonder that no one except me would ever date you, when you behave like such a cunt when I’m just trying to get you help to improve yourself.”
In the end, Bella ended up apologising – which took the form of Charles allowing her to slobber desperately around his cock – and agreeing to go to counselling. Charles knew best. Charles always knew best.
He dressed her for the counselling in a shirt and skirt. The skirt was tiny, of course, with no underwear beneath it. The shirt only came down to just below her nipples, leaving her unsupported underboob exposed. And Charles hadn’t shown it to her before putting it on her – so she was dismayed to discover, upon looking in the mirror, that it had the words “DISAPPOINTING CUNT” written in block letters across the chest.
“It suits you,” was all Charles had to say about the outfit.
He cuffed her hands behind her back again, and put her in the ridiculously high heels, which caused Bella to totter precariously. And then he once again connected a dog leash to her clitoris ring.
“I expect you to be grateful for my help with this, Bella,” said Charles. “Are you going to be grateful?”
Grateful? How could she be grateful for being humiliated and degraded?
And yet she knew she was lucky that Charles spent time with her at all. After all, she *was* a disgusting slut – because what else could you call a woman who allowed herself to be walked on a dog leash attached to her cunt?
“Thank you for dressing me like a slut, Charles,” she said, quietly. “Thank you for cuffing my hands so I won’t do bitchy things with them. Thank you for leashing my cunt so that you can lead me and I won’t get lost.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” said Charles.
And so Bella found herself once again being led by her cunt to the counselling office, desperately trying to keep her balance on the precarious high heels, afraid she would fall tits-first to the sidewalk.
“Hurry up, Bella,” urged Charles. “We’re going to be late.”
He pulled hard on her clit leash, and Bella squealed, as she was forced into an uncoordinated jog to keep up and avoid having her clitoris stretched. The faster pace made her shirt fly up, baring her tits, and her breasts then proceeded to flop around awkwardly (and painfully) with every step. It was a wonder that she stayed balanced on her heels and didn’t fall.
Charles made no effort to pull her shirt back down over her exposed breasts.
Once again they entered Adam’s counselling office. Adam was sitting in the same chair as last time, with the low coffee table between him and the opposite couch.
Charles immediately stooped to tie Bella’s cunt leash to the table legs, as if she were an animal, and then sat on the couch.
Bella blushed and went to sit on the couch too – and then yelped. Charles had tied the leash too tight, and she couldn’t actually reach the couch.
“It’s okay, Bella,” said Adam. “You can kneel there.”
Bella blushed an even deeper red and settled on the floor. Kneeling at Charles’ feet made her feel even more like an animal. “Do I really have to do this?” she said. “I just need a little more space on the leash…” She hated that she was implicitly conceding the underlying acceptability of the leash.
“Bella, is this really the attitude you should bring to a counselling session?” asked Adam. “Do you want to start the session with this bitchy tone?”
“I’m not…” said Bella. “I mean, I didn’t mean to be…”
“Bella, I think you should apologise to Charles for being a bitch, and ask him to slap you,” said Adam.
Bella felt a rush of anger now, as well as humiliation. She remembered some of her feminist principles. “Really,” she said, “This is ridiculous. I don’t need to be slapped.”
“Bella, how did you describe yourself during our last session?” asked Adam. “Do you remember the words? What did you call yourself?”
She went silent, her face a sulky pout.
“Come now, Bella,” said Adam. “What did you call yourself? Tell me, or I’ll end this counselling session, and then Charles will break up with you, and tell the world what you are. What are you?”
“A disgusting slut,” mumbled Bella.
“That’s right!” said Adam. “Good girl. And do you remember how you told us that what you bring to your relationship with Charles is ‘stupidity’?”
Bella had certainly never suggested that – but she’d ended up agreeing to it.
“I’m not stupid, though,” she said – even as she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Charles intervened here. “I think I can resolve this,” he said. He took a piece of paper and a pen out of his pocket and laid them on the coffee table. “Bella, why don’t you write down what you mean on this paper? Just write the phrase ‘Bella is an intelligent, empowered feminist woman.’ Can you do that for me?”
“Of course I can,” said Bella.
She went to pick up the pen – and then realised her hands were still cuffed. She looked at Charles for assistance, but he just looked back at her.
She blushed, and picked up the pen with her mouth. She could probably make intelligent shapes that way. She looked at the paper, preparing to write the simple phrase – and then froze.
It was like all the words had gone out of her head. She could picture the words, kind of – but not the individual letters that made them up. She could only see them as they would appear on her phone or computer – with the letters out of order, and silly childish love hearts and other emojis around them.
She frowned, around her mouthful of pen, and tried to write.
“Beller iz…”
No, that didn’t look right.
“Blla isn tellerjent M poured…”
That wasn’t right either.
She drew a love heart, because that looked right, and then a smiley face, and then tried again.
“Bell is 1 smart impowr fremist cunt.”
Why had she written “cunt”? She was supposed to write “woman” – but as she looked at it, she just couldn’t think of any other way to spell “woman”. Was it one of those words that was pronounced differently from its spelling? She couldn’t remember.
She put down the pen, and turned to Charles.
“Can I have my phone?” she asked. “I just need to check…”
“Can you not write it without your phone, honey?” asked Charles. “That’s okay. I know you have trouble with thinking. Remember, ‘stupidity’ is what you bring to this relationship.”
“But I’m NOT stupid!” pouted Bella.
“Bella, just the other day you apologised to me for pretending to be intelligent,” said Charles. “Why don’t you tell Adam what you did with your university diploma?”
She didn’t want to.
“Bella?” prompted Charles.
“I wiped my bottom with it,” said Bella. “And flushed it down the toilet.”
“I’ll accept that you’re not stupid if you can just write the sentence I told you,” said Charles. “But otherwise I think you should write something true instead, and make the apology that Adam asked for. And maybe apologise to him, too.”
Bella picked up the pen with her mouth again, and stared at the paper. How many letters were supposed to be in “intelligent”? Did it have one J, or two? She drew another love heart next to it, but it didn’t help.
She felt tears at the corners of her eyes. How could she forget how to spell so quickly? Or had she *ever* known how to spell? Maybe she had been writing childish gibberish all her life, and people had been humouring her. Or part of her *wanted* to be stupid, and it had finally been given permission. After all, despite all the tears and humiliation, wasn’t her cunt wet right now?
She gave up.
On the paper, she wrote “Ima dum bitch”, then put down the pen and showed it to Charles.
“Good girl,” said Charles. “Now, apologise.”
“I’m sorry I’m a bitch,” said Bella, looking down. “Please slap me.”
Charles did – a sharp slap across Bella’s face that made her gasp.
“Now Adam,” said Charles.
“I’m sorry I’m a bitch, sir,” said Bella to Adam. “Please slap me.”
Adam rose and slapped her too.
“This is the only way that stupid girls learn, Bella,” said Adam. “When you apologise, you should always ask to be slapped – do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bella.
“She often gets bitchy on an empty stomach,” said Charles. “Do you perhaps have something she can snack on?”
“I think I can manage that,” said Adam. He rose, and vanished through a door into another room.
When he returned after a few minutes, he was carrying a plastic pet feeding tray – the sort with two adjacent bowls, one for food and one for drink. The drink side was filled with a white liquid, and the other end was filled with small coloured dry biscuits.
“What is this?” asked Bella, as Adam placed it in front of her on the coffee table.
“Milk,” said Adam. “And nutrient biscuits. It’s good for you.”
Bella recoiled. “It looks like dog food.”
Adam laughed. “It’s certainly bitch food,” he said. “But not all bitches are literally dogs. In any case, it’s all I’ve got. Eat it. I assure you it’s both safe and healthy for humans.”
“Eat your bitch food, Bella,” Charles urged.
They were both looking at her, and it was clear they were going to make her eat the food. Bella leaned forward – hands still cuffed behind her back – and nibbled at the biscuits.
At first her tongue revolted. They did, indeed, taste like dry dog food. But then she had a secondary reaction. There was something enticing about them – she wanted more. She nibbled up a few more of the biscuits.
They were very dry though, so she went to the milk. With her hands bound, there were no options other than to lick at the bowl like a cat. She blushed – this was so demeaning. But she kept licking – and then returned to the biscuits to eat more.
Maybe Charles had been right. (Of course he was, he was always right.) The food was improving her mood. She felt less bitchy already.
“Damn, look at her go,” said Charles. “Is she going to put on weight, eating these? She’s heavy enough already…”
“No chance,” said Adam. “They’re very slimming. And they contain several important chemicals for a bitch’s health.”
Bella paused. Chemicals?
“Keep eating, sweetie,” said Charles, and Bella automatically obeyed.
“The basic one is a mildly addictive chemical,” said Adam. “Nothing that will hurt her, but it will keep her eager for more. Bitches can be such picky eaters, and that just overcomes that bitchy reluctance.”
Bella didn’t want to eat addictive biscuits, but if she stopped she’d likely be made to apologise, and ask to be slapped, and then forced to eat it anyway, so she kept going. There weren’t that many biscuits left.
“And there’s one that just diverts a little blood from her brain to her tits and pussy,” said Adam. “It makes bitches a little more sensitive in their important areas, and makes it easier for them to stop thinking hard, tricky thoughts.”
“Damn, that does sound like it’s good for her,” said Charles.
“I can sell you some,” said Adam. “It’s made locally – it dodges government regulation. I can sell you a few bags at a discount. They make a wet food, too – Slut Chunks in Gravy… it looks truly disgusting, but bitches go wild for it once they taste that addictive element.”
“I’d love that,” said Charles. “Bella needs a simpler diet anyway.”
Bella finished the last of her biscuits, and looked up at the men for approval. The world already seemed simpler – she just needed to do what Charles wanted, and it would please him, and minimise the need for him to slap her.
“Good girl,” said Charles, and patted her.
“Now, Bella,” said Adam. “Let’s talk about your tits. I see you’ve got them exposed like a good girl. Charles, can you lift Bella’s tits to rest on the table, so we can all see them?”
Charles reached down and lifted Bella’s boobs up onto the table surface. Bella felt humiliated and exposed to have them displayed for everyone’s gaze in such an objectifying way.
“When we met last time, Bella, you listed your tits as one of the values you brought to your relationship with Charles,” said Adam. “Do you remember that?”
Bella nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said.
“But they’re not very good tits, are they, Bella?” Adam asked.
Bella looked down at her breasts in dismay. They seemed good to her – large, but not huge, with nipple rings pierced through them like Charles liked.
“I don’t understand,” asked Bella.
“Well, let’s try this,” said Adam. He took out three A4 sheets, and laid them on the table. Each had an image of a naked woman on it. The first woman was quite unattractive, with tiny barely-there A-cup tits. The second woman was reasonably good looking, with breasts about the size of Bella’s. And the third was a pornographic wet dream, with platinum-blonde hair and huge obviously-fake fuckmelons.
Adam pointed at the small-breasted girl. “Do you think Charles would like this girl, Bella?”
She knew he wouldn’t. “No, sir.”
“How do you think Charles would describe this woman, Bella?” asked Adam. “Be explicit, and be cruel.”
She blushed. She knew exactly how the woman should be described.
“As… a worthless small-titted hag,” she said hesitantly.
“Is that right, Bella?” asked Adam. “Are women with small tits worthless?”
The feminist part of her screamed NO.
The feminist part of her would get slapped. No, worse – it would have to apologise, and then *beg* to be slapped. And anyway, Bella couldn’t even *spell* feminist.
“Yes,” she said. “Women with small tits are worthless.”
“And let’s look at the other two women,” said Adam. “Which one do you think Charles would prefer?”
The answer was easy. She pointed at the huge-titted porn star.
Charles chuckled from behind Bella. “Do you remember how you used to describe women like that, sweetie? What was that phrase you used?”
Bella looked down in embarrassment. “Porn cow,” she muttered.
“That’s right,” said Charles. “But I like the porn cow better than the other girl, don’t I?”
“Yes,” said Bella.
Adam spoke now. “How would Charles describe the other girl, Bella?”
“Disappointing,” said Bella, sulkily.
“But *your* tits are that size, Bella,” said Adam. “So what does that make you?”
“Disappointing,” said Bella again.
“Good girl,” said Adam. “Now, we’re going to play a game called ‘stream of consciousness’, okay? I want you to look at that disappointing girl, and know that you’re exactly like her. And I want you to talk about why you’re disappointing. Don’t think, don’t censor yourself. Just say the words that come into your head, without any filter, and keep talking until Charles tells you to stop.”
Bella didn’t want to. She could feel the thought there, in her mind – embarrassing, guilty, ashamed thoughts. She didn’t want to admit them. But she knew there must be something wrong with her, because she was sitting here with her tits out and her cunt leashed to a coffee table, eating dog food and apologising for being a bitch. That didn’t happen to normal girls, who weren’t disappointing. It just happened to her.
So she started to speak. “I’m disappointing, because I have small tits,” she said. “My tits aren’t big enough to be fun. If I had bigger tits, Charles would be happier, and he would love me more, and I wouldn’t be such a disappointing cunt.”
The men were smiling. They approved. Heartened, Bella continued.
“Charles wants to fuck a beautiful porn cow, but he’s stuck with me, and I’m worthless and small-titted. I act like a bitch every day, because Charles deserves porn cow tits and all I offer him are tiny disappointing fuckbags.”
She looked at her own breasts again, on the table. How could she ever have thought they were satisfactory? They looked sad and deflated compared to the porn cow.
“I know girls with bigger tits are prettier. I know boys like them better. I could make boys everywhere happier if I just had bigger tits, but instead I act like a bitch and just keep offering my small tits – which I hide most of the time, instead of exposing. I could make Charles happy so easily. I could make men happy. And instead I act like a bitch. I must be a bitch, because I’m leashed like a bitch, and because I have to come to counselling all the time to learn to be better. Nice girls don’t get slapped for being a bitch.”
She felt like she wanted to cry.
Charles stroked her hair. “Is there something you want to do, to be a better woman, sweetie?” he prompted.
She knew what he wanted – and she was surprised by how much she wanted it too. Because not asking for it was bitchy. Because Charles wanted it, and he would get what he wanted, and the longer it took Bella to give it to him, the more he would punish her. Because she couldn’t even write the word “intelligent”, so how could she say this wasn’t her destiny?
“I want porn cow tits,” she said. “I want you to fix my tits, and give me big porn cow udders that you’ll enjoy.”
She looked up at him with tearful eyes. “I’m sorry for my tits. I’m sorry I have worthless tiny tits. I’m so sorry. Please slap my tits. It’s the only way I’ll learn. Please slap them.”
“Of course, honey,” said Charles – and brought his hand down on her breasts, hard.
Bella squealed – but it felt good, too, because she knew she deserved it. She bucked her hips a little, to make the leash tug painfully on her clit, and that felt strangely good too.
SLAP! SLAP!
Charles beat her tits with his hand again and again, and Bella felt herself moaning. It hurt so bad – and it hurt so good. She kept tugging her clit against the leash, the only way that she could stimulate her wet, needy cunt.
Adam took a turn, too. He came over and beat her right breast and Charles beat her left one. Bella saw bruises developing on her breasts.
“Make me a porn cow,” she moaned. “I just want to please you. I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid. I’m a dumb bitch.”
And suddenly she was orgasming – and, to her humiliation, squirting. Squirting all over Adam’s floor. Cumming and squirting from the pain in her tits and pussy. Exactly like a dumb bitch.
They stopped beating her when they saw she was orgasming. Charles began stroking her hair.
“Good bitch,” he whispered. “Such a good bitch.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek – and then whispered in her ear.
“You’re going to make such a pretty porn cow, Bella…”
===
If you’re enjoying this story, you’ll love my e-book Abby’s Identity, about a bitchy woman who has her identity broken and remade by the man she hates – available now from AllTheseRoadworks.com for only $7.99 USD! (Click here to view in store.)
===