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Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three
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Allison was informed by the school that she had more appointments to attend with the school’s counsellor, Miss Kendall.
In fact, she was being excused from English entirely so that she could see Miss Kendall for an hour every day.
Allison didn’t like this, because Miss Kendall made her feel strange. By now Allison was used to being humiliated, and being told to strip nude by Miss Kendall to “help her get relaxed” was humiliating but increasingly normal for Allison.
But then Miss Kendall would expose her *own* tits and pussy, and she would tell Allison to stare at her cunt, and masturbate, and she would talk to Allison in a droning voice – and soon Allison would realise that she was fully clothed, and that it was time to go back to class, and that she couldn’t remember anything that Miss Kendall had said to her.
Miss Kendall, for her part, used these sessions to fill Allison’s naïve, confused teenaged brain with primal and contradictory opinions – the sort of thoughts that she had agreed, in consultation with the principal, that a big-uddered teen slut like Allison deserved to have in her brain.
“Your tits are dirty,” she would tell Allison. “It is disgusting that you have such huge tits. You should be ashamed of them. You should be embarrassed when anyone looks at them. Your big tits are your fault. Your big tits make you a slut. You deserve to be punished just because your tits are so whorishly huge. When people look at your tits they’re thinking about what a disgusting slut you are.”
But then also, “The worst humiliation is to be unfuckable. It’s terrible when men don’t want to fuck you. If men don’t want to fuck you, you’re worthless. If men aren’t staring at your tits or pussy then you’re doing something wrong, and you’re a bad person. If you don’t give men an erection then you’re a frigid bitch. No one likes a frigid bitch. Good girls make men want to cum on their faces and tits. Good girls make men want to rape them. Good girls draw attention to their tits. If men aren’t looking at you, or are looking at your face instead of your tits, then you’re a horrible person.”
Allison would internalise these thoughts, and moan, and masturbate.
And again, Miss Kendall would tell her: “Lesbianism is a sin. Nice girls don’t kiss other girls. Nice girls are disgusted by licking pussy. Nice girls would freak out if another girl licked their cunt. Getting aroused by women is perverted and disgusting. A woman who gets aroused by other women deserves to be punished and raped. Cunts are dirty, and licking one is like licking a toilet.”
But then also, “Women are just tits and cunts. When you look at a woman, you can’t help but think about her cunt. Cunts are so tasty. You love to lick cunt. The taste of cunt is addictive. You love using other women like fucktoys. You love being used as a fucktoy by other women. It’s even better when men watch. You’re nothing but a cute little sex-kitten who loves to lez off with other girls. All you can think about when you’re with other girls is kissing them and squeezing their tits and licking their cunts. It makes you so wet it’s ridiculous. The taste of cunt makes you so wet that you become stupid.”
She would test these ideas by having Allison kneel, in the hypnotic trance, and lick her exposed cunt, and she would know they worked by the way that Allison’s face twisted with disgust as she came close to Miss Kendall’s cunt, and how she gagged and wretched at the taste of Miss Kendall’s pussy, but still pushed her face deep into Miss Kendall’s snatch, licking eagerly, almost compulsively, making slutty little moans. And when Miss Kendall felt Allison began to cry, her tears wettening Miss Kendall’s thighs, she would tell Allison to open her mouth wide, and then she would press her pussy tight against Allison’s face, and orgasm, squirting into Allison’s waiting mouth, before commanding Allison to swallow.
There would be more such contradictory pairings. Nice girls, for example, absolutely did not fuck their fathers or mothers. That was slutty and perverted and disgusting. And if a girl got fucked by their own parents, it was their own fault for being a cockteasing whore.
But at the same time, nice girls pleased their parents, and if Allison’s parents didn’t want to rape her then it must mean that they didn’t love her, and that she was, in fact, unloveable. Good girls made their parents want to rape them.
And likewise, that women were stupid, all women were stupid, and they needed men to make decisions for them. It was natural for Allison to not understand things, to be ignored and disrespected, to be patronised, because she was basically an animal, and if she disagreed with people then she was always going to be the person who was wrong.
But also that it was her fault she was stupid, she was stupid because of her big tits, and her big tits were her fault, and she should be punished for being such a stupid cow, and she should be ashamed of how she needed men to make decisions for her.
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Everyone saw the change in Allison’s behaviour that these hypnotic sessions produced. Before she had been shy, and ashamed of her tits, trying to hide herself from humiliation and sexual interest.
And now she was just as ashamed of her large breasts – in fact, more ashamed than ever before – but her body language began to change to encourage people to stare at them. She pushed them out when boys were looking at her, and lifted them and squeezed them together with her arms and hands. She would trace the circles of her areolaes with her fingers, during casual conversation, to draw men’s gaze down from her face to her oversized fuckbags.
And then she would blush and feel like a dirty, disgusting, big-uddered whore as they stared lustfully at her fuckbags, and know that she deserved to be raped for behaving in this way. (But even so, it was better than the panic she felt now when men *didn’t* look at her tits, and the sudden, sick feeling that she was worthless because some random boy didn’t want to rape her…)
She would stare at men’s crotches, looking for signs of erection, and if she didn’t see any she would become desperate, coming near them, looking for chances to rub her tits against them, to let a hand brush across their groin.
She found herself turning casual conversations around to the topic of her tits, even though discussing her giant dirty fuckmelons made her feel whorish and ashamed. She would recount the story of her rape in erotic detail to attempt to arouse boys with her violation and help them to picture treating her in the same way.
All of this had an effect. Allison was raped again on the way home from school – in fact, it happened twice in one week. In the same week, she was dragged into the boys’ toilets by three male classmates and gang-fucked against the toilet wall. Two more boys came in during her rape, and did nothing but watch.
There were 60 boys in Allison’s year at school, and at Miss Kendall’s urging she made a list of them, and she ticked off the ones who had raped her. Fully a third of them had fucked her by the end of the first month after she announced her pregnancy. And Allison began to fixate on the names that weren’t ticked, seeing them as failures. A few of those boys were gay, and it seemed fair to not worry about them, but each of the rest was a boy who saw Allison as worthless, as unfuckable, as boring, and Allison knew that she was a stupid bitch for failing to make them want to rape her.
She vowed to try harder.
And at home she focused on her father’s cock. If her daddy didn’t have an erection, then he must be angry with her, and if he went two days without raping her, then he probably didn’t love her. She knew that this wasn’t normal, that nice girls didn’t fuck their daddies, but she wasn’t a nice girl, and she wasn’t even really a person. She was a cow.
And so she tried her best to look sexy and rapeable for her daddy, and she stroked his cock on every occasion that she could – with her mother’s permission and encouragement – and when her daddy held her down and raped her, she cried sometimes, but she also orgasmed, and was happy in the knowledge that she deserved this, and that it meant that she still had her daddy’s love.
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