Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen
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Amelie prepared for her interview with Ray Batsby – and that meant anticipating his needs.
As she had done before for Ray, and for her abortive interview with Gary, Amelie stripped nude and knelt facing the door of her office. She spread her legs and began to play with her pussy, and she waited for Ray to arrive.
When he did arrive, he was far less surprised this time. He had obviously expected to find her in this position. He immediately stepped into the office, closed the door behind him, took out his cock, and jammed it in her mouth.
Amelie made gargling sounds as he vigorously facefucked her, using a two-fisted grip on her hair to control her head. At some points she wasn’t sure she could breathe, and her nose was sore from banging against Ray’s waist, but Ray didn’t care.
When he felt his climax approaching, he pushed her physically off his cock, and then pointed his dick at her, before ejaculating all over her face and into her hair. Amelie flinched as the sprays of sticky cum hit her.
“Leave that on until you get home,” he told her. “If you have to speak to another client or your boss, you can rub it into your skin or hair to try to hide it, but otherwise leave it exactly as it is.”
“Yes, sir,” said Amelie unhappily as a glob of sperm dripped from her chin onto her tits. There was some in her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to unstick her eyelids.
“Did you have fun last night?” asked Ray, and Amelie’s heart skipped a beat when she thought he was referring to her raping Gail. How did he know?
But then she realised he meant riding in the boot of her car and licking the peanut butter out of his sex-doll’s cunt.
“Yes, sir,” she said, hoping he didn’t have follow-up questions. She didn’t want to tell him about Gail – but she knew that if he asked her directly, she would be too scared to lie.
To her relief, he moved on immediately.
“Have you been following my rules, cunt?” he asked her.
She remembered his three rules. First, men were never wrong. If a man’s opinion contradicted hers, she should throw out her opinion and accept his. If a man made her uncomfortable or unhappy, it was her responsibility to apologise.
Second, she called every male “sir”. Male humans. Male dogs. Men who were above her. Men who were below her.
Third, her biological functions were less important than men. If she was in a building with men, she had to have permission to piss.
“Yes, sir,” she said, honestly.
“Good cunt,” said Ray. “I have an opinion about you, cunt. The opinion is that you’re very stupid. How do you feel about that?”
She blushed. “Yes, sir, I’m very stupid,” she said, looking at the ground.
He slapped her, and she gasped.
“Don’t you fucking *dare* disrespect me, cunt,” he snarled. “You think you can just say what I want to hear? You think you can *lie* to me?”
“No, sir!” she said quickly, trying to protect her face. “I would never!”
He pulled her hands away and slapped her again.
“Apologise, cunt,” he said.
“I’m sorry!” she shrieked. “I’m sorry, sir!”
“Sorry for what?” he asked.
“Sorry for making you slap me!” said Amelie. “Sorry for lying to you, sir! Sorry for being a bitch!”
“How do you fix this, cunt?” he asked.
She thought. He was angry at her because she had said she was stupid but she didn’t really believe it.
“I’ll… I’ll believe it, sir,” she said. “I’ll believe that I’m stupid. You’re right. Your opinion is right.”
“Give me your phone,” said Ray.
Amelie obeyed. She watched Ray unlock it, using the code she had showed him previously, and do something. Then he held it out to her.
“Say, ‘Amelie, you are a stupid cunt,’” he said.
“Amelie, you are a stupid cunt,” she said, obediently.
He pressed a button, and her phone repeated her words. He had recorded her. Then he did something else, and handed it back to her.
“I’ve set that as an alarm,” he said. “Every hour, on the hour it will remind you that you are a stupid cunt. I want you to keep it set to max volume so you can hear it. And when you hear it, you will immediately respond by saying, ‘That’s right, I am a brainless wet-cunted bitch.’ No matter where you are or who is around. Do you understand?”
Amelie was terrified. “But… people will hear…” she objected.
“That sounds like a problem for you, not a problem for me,” said Ray. “Because this is a good idea and you need it. Don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to disagree – and then closed it.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “This is a good idea and I need it.” And she did her very best to believe that.
“Good cunt,” said Ray. “Now, look around your office. Is there anything here that’s inconsistent with the fact that you’re a stupid cunt?”
Amelie looked around the room. Her eyes settled on her bookcase. Half the books were intended for parolees – books on self help, cognitive behaviour therapy, and suchlike. The others were books on sociology, law and justice.
She pointed at the books.
“That’s right,” said Ray. “Those books are too complicated for a stupid cunt to read, aren’t they?”
Amelie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I have a special project for you that’s going to help you learn your place, cunt,” said Ray. “Are you excited?”
The truth was that Amelie was scared – and certain that she was about to be humiliated and degraded. But she said, “Yes, sir.”
“Every time that you leave this office to go anywhere semi-private, whether that’s going home, or going to the toilet, or going to have lunch,” said Ray, “I want you to take one of those books and start ripping pages out of it. Scrunch each page into a loose ball, and then push it into your cunt. Keep doing that until your cunt feels full. Then, before you come back to the office, I want you to pull out one page, and try and unfold it, and stare at it, and masturbate until the words don’t make sense to you. Can you do that, cunt?”
Amelie swallowed nervously, and nodded. She wished her cunt didn’t feel so wet.
“Once you can’t understand the writing, you can pull the rest of the pages out of your pussy. Wipe each one across your face or tits, then drop it in a bin, or a toilet, or just on the ground if you don’t have better options. When your cunt is empty, eat the piece of paper you were reading, then repeat that you’re a stupid cunt, out loud, while thinking about how stupid you are, until you orgasm, and then return to your office.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “It’s a good idea and I deserve it.”
“Good cunt,” said Ray. “And we’ll need to get you some replacement books, won’t we? You can order some after I’m gone. Make sure there’s a good variety, and that they’re all appropriate for a stupid cunt who respects men.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Amelie.
He nodded, thoughtfully – then he grabbed her hair and pulled her violently to her feet. Once she was standing, he pushed her, so that she turned and sprawled across the couch, ass up – and then he climbed on top of her, spat on her anus, and then shoved his cock into it and began to fuck her.
It was Amelie’s second time having anal sex, and it was nowhere near as degrading as her first time, in her toilet with Chris. It hurt, but by now Amelie was becoming accustomed to being raped. She pushed her ass back against Ray and tried to be a pleasing fuck for him. As she experienced her rape, and remembered Chris cumming in her ass as he flushed her head in the toilet, she felt her cunt growing increasingly wet, and she tried to get a hand under herself so she could rub her pussy, but Ray knocked her hands away.
“A cunt’s pleasure is irrelevant,” he told her. “In fact, it is shameful and disobedient for a woman to receive sexual pleasure. Every orgasm you have is a sin that you need to be punished for. You exist to please the cocks of men, not to pleasure yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” said Amelie unhappily. She tried to dutifully internalise this idea but the throbbing in her pussy was too urgent and she knew that she would never be able to stop herself from orgasming. In fact, Ray had just told her that she had to, when she stuffed the books into her cunt. How could she reconcile that? Weren’t those two ideas contradictory?
No, obviously they weren’t. Men were always right. She was just too stupid to understand.
“You’re doing well curating the footage of that bitch Tayla,” said Ray as he fucked her. “I had a good sale today. You should have something interesting to curate soon.”
Amelie felt her heart sink. Ray had talked before about selling access to Tayla’s house to men on the internet – so they could rape her – but the last time they had discussed the subject, no one had bought the expensive privilege yet. Had that changed?
She knew in her heart that it had.
“Yes, sir,” she heard herself say. “Thank you, sir.”
In response, she felt Ray orgasming, ejaculating into her anus, and a moment later he pulled out, flipped her over, and wiped his cock clean on her face.
Then, without saying anything else to her, he left.
Amelie would have just lain there, stunned and exhausted – or possibly masturbated to her own orgasm – but she could feel Ray’s cum dripping out of her ass, threatening to stain the carpet. She didn’t have anything to clean it up, except her own clothes. She contemplated soaking her skirt in Ray’s cum to clean herself up, but decided it against it, and settled for trying to catch the cum leaking from her ass in her cupped hands, and then transferring it to her mouth so she could lick it up.
She repeated this process until she felt like she had drunk as much of Ray’s sperm as she could, and then re-dressed.
She went to her computer and set to work on Ray’s task of buying new books. She picked out children’s books with simple language that taught young girls to wear pink, look pretty, and be wives, homemakers and cooks. She picked up misogyny texts that made the case for why rape should be legalised, why feminism was brainrot, and why women should be treated as animals rather than humans. And she rounded it with a wide selection of explicit fetish porn featuring dehumanised big-titted fucktoys.
The internet assured her she would have her new library by tomorrow.
She thought about Tayla. Ray had all but told her that someone would break into Tayla’s apartment in the near future and rape her. Maybe someone already had.
She should warn Tayla. She could call Tayla from an anonymous number and warn her to get out of her house…
… but Ray would know who had done it. There was presumably no one else who would have a reason to do such a thing. And he would punish her – physically and painfully, no doubt, but he could also expose her and send her to jail.
And besides, he would just find Tayla again, as he had already found her upon leaving jail (admittedly with Amelie’s help). Amelie couldn’t stop Tayla being raped. Not really.
Or at least that’s what she told herself. And she tried to pretend that her cunt wasn’t throbbing with eagerness at the thought of watching the footage of Tayla being violated.
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damn, I just love how dumb and blunt it is :’D