Rosie couldn’t control her libido. It was humiliating. She masturbated so much at home, and then even when she was at work or out with friends she’d get so wet she’d have to blushingly head to the toilets and frantically fingerfuck herself with her free hand stuffed in her mouth so she wouldn’t give herself away by moaning or screaming.
She tried to set limits on herself, to make herself stop. She told herself she wouldn’t masturbate anymore unless she completely stripped naked first. Surely she wouldn’t dare do that in a public toilet? But it turned out she would dare, if her pussy was wet, and she did.
So she started going into the men’s toilets instead. Surely she wouldn’t dare go in? Surely she wouldn’t strip naked in a men’s cubicle while there were men outside? Surely she wouldn’t masturbate where they might hear her? But she would. And she did.
She got strange looks if there were already men present when she did this, watching her as she went into the toilets. It wasn’t long before it happened – late at night in an isolated toilet block, a man kicked open the door of the cubicle, catching her nude and masturbating, and raped her right there, his hand over her mouth, his cock violating her pussy.
It scared her enough that she stopped, for a while, processing what had happened. She cried a lot… but she also knew that she had orgasmed no less than three times as he raped her, and that she had dreams about it where she woke up wet, and that now when she masturbated she remembered that moment.
It’s what I deserve, she thought, for being a slut. I brought that on myself. I deserve to be raped by strangers.
So she set herself a new limit. Whenever she masturbated outside her home, she would take a photo of herself afterwards, nude, flushed, wet cunted, on a Polaroid camera, so it would instantly create a print. And then she would write her name and home address on the back of the photo, along with the words “permission to rape me”, and she would attach a copy of her house key to it with Blu-tac. Surely she wouldn’t masturbate if she had to do such a dangerous and humiliating thing afterwards?
But she was a slut. So she did. Many times.
It worked, in a way. She left the photos throughout town, and a great many men ended up with keys to her house, and by the end of her third month of this program, really she was having so much non-consensual sex that she barely had time to dry her tears and clean the cum off her between visitors, let alone masturbate…
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