There was a chair on Sarah’s front lawn, and it filled Sarah with shame whenever she thought about it.
It hadn’t always been there. Sarah had been carefree and happy – with a long list of male lovers. She wasn’t particularly kinky – but she’d enjoyed casual, simple sex with a lot of men.
Her neighbour across the road was an older man called George – and George hated her. He hated the constant comings and goings of men at all hours of the night. When he saw her outside her house, he would call her a slut, and ask her how many men had ejaculated in her that week.
“I’m not a slut!” she would spit. “Fuck off and leave me alone.” But he never did.
Sarah’s mistake had been in fucking her boss at work. The initial sex had been good – but then he wanted more. He wanted to fuck her in the ass. He wanted to flog her. He wanted to share her with other men. He wanted blowjobs in the office. Sarah had said no, and no, and no – and, inevitably, they had broken up, and then Sarah had been fired.
It left her in a difficult place, because she could no longer afford the rent on her house. She faced homelessness.
Which was when George stepped in.
“I heard what happened, slut,” he said. “I can help. My company runs a research laboratory. If you volunteer to be part of our latest trial for one year, I’ll see that your rent is paid by us for the duration.”
Sarah knew she shouldn’t have said yes. But she did. Free rent for a year was too good to pass up.
She had another chance to back out when she went to the lab George worked at and heard what the trial was – although at that point George didn’t exactly tell her *everything*.
“It’s a small microchip,” he said. “We use an injector gun to place it in the tissue alongside your vagina. It monitors several indicators in your body to track your arousal, fertility, and other indicators. It could simplify research into women’s health considerably, if it passes trials.”
So she let the lab inject her with the chip. George did it personally, and Sarah felt intense embarrassment as she sat naked from the waist down, her legs spread in stirrups, as George examined and photographed her cunt, spreading her labia back to expose her fuckhole, teasing her clitoris out of its hood so it could be documented.
The microchip itself didn’t hurt going in at all, and she couldn’t feel it inside her – until George smiled at her, took out a small remote, and pressed a button.
Sarah squealed, and jumped. Her legs were still trapped in the stirrups, leaving her unable to get off the bench – but she definitely wanted to, because an agonising electric shock had just gone off in her cunt!
“The trial is for real,” said George. “But this is my little addition to it.”
“What are you doing?” said Sarah, fearfully.
“You are a slut, Sarah,” said George. “You will do anything for your cunt, and we’re going to prove it.”
“This is wrong,” said Sarah. “This is illegal.”
“No,” said George. “You specifically agreed to everything I’m about to do to you. You should have read the documents before you signed them.” He pressed the button again, and she squealed as another shock zapped her pussy. “Now shut up and listen, bitch,” he told her – and she did.
“The chip tracks your sexual arousal,” said George. “It can predict when you’re going to orgasm, and identify when you actually do. It also tracks your location.”
Sarah looked at him, with big pleading eyes, but he ignored her.
“You’ll need to register heavy sexual arousal three times a day – seven am, one pm and ten pm – or you’ll start getting electric shocks until you do,” he said. “But you can’t orgasm – or at least, not just anywhere. If you get close to an orgasm, the chip will start shocking you. If you actually *do* orgasm, the deal is off – you keep the chip inside you, we stop paying your rent, and you need to pay us back for any payments already made.”
She whimpered. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone even four days without at least masturbating to orgasm….
“You can only orgasm in one situation,” said George. “And it’s the situation where you show the world what a disgusting degraded slut you are, and how your cunt matters to you more than your dignity.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sarah – and was rewarded with another shock to her fuckhole for interrupting him.
“I’ve installed a chair in your front yard, facing the street,” said George. “You can cum in one, and only one, circumstance. And that is if you leave the front door of your house completely naked, locking it behind you with your keys inside. You will then go to your exterior rubbish bin, select an item from inside, sit naked in the chair facing the street, and masturbate to orgasm using whatever you took out of the garbage. As you masturbate, you will loudly repeat ‘I’m a disgusting slut,’ loud enough to be heard in nearby houses. After you cum, you will stuff whatever you orgasmed with into your cunt, and leave it there until a man lets you back into your house.”
“No…” whimpered Sarah.
“I mean, that’s not a problem, right?” said George. “Because you’re not a slut, right? And only the most disgusting, degraded slut would do that.” He looked at her. “Say, ‘I agree, sir, only a slut would do that.’” He gave her another cunt-shock to encourage her.
“I agree, sir,” she said quietly. “Only a slut would do that.
“Good bitch,” said George. “The chair has an RFID chip in it, and the combination of that and a GPS showing you’re outside your house will allow you to cum. I’ll get a notification when you go near the chair, so I can watch and make sure you fulfil the other conditions.”
He paused, and looked at her spread cunt. “Before I send you home, would you like me to fuck you here and now, before this all starts? I’ll let you cum. It’ll be a free starter, and presumably the last time you’ll orgasm all year, because you’re not a slut and you wouldn’t fuck yourself with garbage, right?”
She wrinkled her face. “Go to hell,” she said. “And let me out of these stirrups.”
George looked furious for a moment at her refusal – but then his smile returned. “Oh well, we’ll just add that to the list of things you’ll be accountable for once you admit you’re a slut.”
He let her down, and she was allowed to dress and go home.
But everything was different now. George was right – the chip was merciless. If she wasn’t dripping wet at 7 am, she started to get agonising shocks, and again at 1 pm and again at 10 pm. She got used to masturbating obediently – in her bed, or in a bathroom – as these hours approached. Often she would stop once she got wet, but just as often she felt so horny that the chip would have to start electro-shocking her to stop her from cumming, forcing her to jerk her hands away from her pussy with a frustrated squeal.
After a few weeks, she found herself automatically wettening as her masturbation times approached. Being horny so often was doing something funny to her mind – she found it hard to think straight, and the idea of masturbating came to her often even when it wasn’t time to do so. Masturbating at 10 pm each night but not being allowed to cum was messing with her sleep, too. She would lie awake and horny until long after midnight, desperately wanting to cum but not being allowed to, and when she did fall asleep she dreamed slutty, kinky sex dreams until morning.
Every time she looked out the front window and saw the chair – a modified white plastic lawn chair – she felt slutty and humiliated. It was a reminder what she had allowed to be done to her – and an ominous promise of the future. She hated it – even as she began to picture it more and more often as she masturbated, and visualised how wonderful it might feel to finally, actually orgasm, sitting in that chair…
She lasted three weeks.
She had started masturbating that day at 7 am, but she didn’t stop. Every time she approached orgasm, she got a shock, and she would pull her hands away – but she would lie in her bed, still thinking slutty thoughts, and her hands would drift back to her pussy.
Eventually 1 pm came, and it was time for her second masturbation, and she realised she had been playing with herself for four hours in a row. She needed to cum. She needed to cum. She brought herself near the edge of orgasm, and a got a shock – and another shock.
She could just make herself cum. She could do it. But she wasn’t in the chair. She would lose her home. She would have to live on the street. She pulled her hands away, and tucked them under legs, willing herself not to play with her pussy.
Five minutes after the last shock, they were back between her legs, pumping in and out of her twat and rubbing her clit.
When she got the shock again, it was the last straw. Moaning with slutty humiliation, she found herself getting out of bed and crawling on all fours towards the front door. She didn’t know why she was crawling, but if felt right – and it was hard to crawl and masturbate at the same time, which let her cunt cool down from the edge of orgasm.
She didn’t really believe she was doing this – but when she reached the front door, she stood up, and stepped outside onto the front lawn naked. Then she turned around and carefully locked the door.
There. She was locked out, naked. There was no going back.
There was no one on the street right now. No one could see her.
Completely nude, she tiptoed around the house to the garbage bin, and looked inside. Her nose wrinkled at the terrible smell – but there, right on top, was a large ham bone that she’d used in making soup last night. It was huge, and knobbly at the ends, but it was relatively clean. Would it even fit in her cunt? She didn’t care. She took it – and a discard chip packet, for good measure.
She made her way to the lawn chair, and sat on it, legs spread, blushing.
A car drove past. It didn’t stop, but she reflexively closed her legs – then deliberately spread them again.
Across the road, the curtains of George’s house opened. He was standing there, looking at her. She blushed.
“I’m a disgusting slut,” she said, quietly. She took the chip packet and began to rub it against her pussy. It wasn’t a nice feeling – smooth and plasticky, and greasy at the same time. Her body rebelled – but her clitoris wanted to be touched, with anything, anything at all.
“I’m a disgusting slut,” she said again, louder. And then, “I’m a disgusting slut!” loud enough to be heard next door.
She heard the door of the house to her left open, and her neighbour Tim came out to see what was happening. She deliberately didn’t turn to look. She couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face when he looked at her. Would it be disgust? Horror? Lust? All three?
The chip packet wasn’t working for her. She rubbed it against her clit a bit more, poked it into her cunt a little – and then gave up. She discarded it on the ground, took the ham bone, and applied it to her cunt.
“I’m a disgusting slut!” she shouted – and the last bit went a little wobbly, because that was when she pushed the end of the bone inside her, and it was HUGE. It hurt! It was smaller than a baby’s head, by a fair margin, so she supposed it was safe, but it was exponentially bigger than any cock she’d ever fucked. She pushed it further inside her, and whimpered.
A couple of flies descended from the sky and buzzed around the free end of the ham bone, inspecting it for scraps of remaining meat. She ignored them, and began methodically raping herself with the ham bone, while yelling that she was a disgusting slut.
A crowd were gathering now. Neighbours? Passers by? She heard people whispering, saying “slut” and “whore”. She heard the sound of photos being taken. “I’m a disgusting slut!” she told them, blushing, avoiding eye contact.
She couldn’t help imagining what she looked like – nude, aroused, nipples hard, cunt dripping, fucking herself with garbage. How could she respect herself after this? How could anyone respect her?
They couldn’t. She was a disgusting slut.
She orgasmed.
It was the best orgasm of her life. She screamed and squealed and twitched. She’d never squirted before, but she was squirting now, pissing ejaculate all over the ham bone and over her hands and thighs, in front of everyone that was watching her. She bucked against the ham bone like a whore.
And then it was over, and for the first time in days she could think clearly, and feel the full weight of crushing shame over what she had just done hit her.
When it did, she orgasmed again.
“I’m a disgusting slut,” she muttered.
When she got up, and began to blushingly walk over the street, the ham bone still stuffed up her pussy, to go and ask George to let her back into her house, people began to laugh at her. The laughter combined with the feeling of the ham bone wiggling in her fucktunnel to give her a third orgasm.
“Hello, slut,” said George, when she arrived at his door.
“Is it over?” she asked. “Please, I admitted I was a slut. Is it over?”
“Whatever makes you think it’s over, dear?” said George. “You volunteered for a year. If you want to cum again during that year, the chair is still there and the garbage bin is still there.”
“Nooo….” whimpered Sarah.
“But I’ll do you a deal,” said George. “If you want, we can wash out that disgusting garbage-bin cunt, and then I’ll rape you. And if we do, then I’ll let you back into your house. The garbage will need to stay inside you while I fuck you, though, so we’ll need to transfer that ham bone to penetrate your ass.”
Sarah just made an incoherent whimper.
“And seeing as I’m feeling generous, if you cum from being raped, I won’t have you disqualified from the trial for it,” said George. “You’ll still get the cunt shock from cumming, of course – the one for an actual orgasm is even more painful than the usual ones, so it should be quite intense. So tell me, Sarah – are you a slut? Would you like to be raped? So that you can go home afterwards?”
People on the street were still watching her. Sarah whimpered, a pitiful, babyish sound. Long moments passed.
Then she deliberately spread her legs a little wider, looked him in the eye, and said, “I’m a disgusting slut.”
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She *did* cum from rape. The shock *was* agonising. And much to George’s amusement, the pain made her cum *again*, making her eyes widen as a second shock hit immediately….
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