Story: The Parole Officer, Part 20

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen

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Chris spent the night at Amelie’s place.  His stamina seemed to be endless – he would rape Gail, and cum in her mouth or her pussy or her ass, and then twenty minutes later he would be hard again and ready to rape her some more.  

After a while, Amelie fell asleep in her bed, with Chris and Gail still fucking next to her.  It felt weird to be able to fall asleep while listening to a woman softly crying from being raped, but in a way it felt oddly comforting.

Chris woke her up on five separate occasions during the night.  Twice she was awakened by Chris grabbing a handful of her hair and dragging her head to Gail’s groin, so that she could lick his cum out of Gail’s pussy.  Once she woke up to find that Chris was forcing Gail to lick her cunt, and her return to consciousness was accompanied by a very pleasant orgasm from the unwilling woman’s tongue.  Once she was brought out of sleep by Chris sliding his cock into her unconscious pussy and beginning to fuck her, and in her sleep deprived state she fell asleep again with him still riding her, leaving him to ejaculate into her as she slept.  And early in the morning she was woken up by Gail kissing her passionately on the lips as Chris raped the captive waitress’ ass.

At all times when Gail’s mouth wasn’t otherwise in use, Chris made her chant a simple mantra – “I love you.  I’m stupid.  I need you.  I’m a cunt.”  The words were so constant and unending that Amelie found herself mumbling along to them in her sleep, and when she finally woke in the morning the words were stuck in her head like the chorus of a catchy song.

Gail was finally unconscious and asleep by the time the sun was up, but Chris was still fucking her, his cock rock-hard and his face showing no signs of needing rest.  

“I need to go to work, sir” said Amelie, uncertain how Chris would react.

“That’s all right, miss,” said Chris.  “I’m going to stay here and keep fucking Gail, if you don’t mind.  Her cunt’s still really tight and it squeezes my dick real good.”

Amelie *did* mind – she didn’t like the idea of leaving Chris alone in her apartment, or alone with Gail, and worried what he might do to the poor girl without Amelie there – but for all Chris’ friendly manner, he could be brutal and cruel when he didn’t get what he wanted, and Amelie didn’t dare object.  

Besides, men were never wrong, so she pushed her concerns out of her head and went about getting ready for work.

“Amelie, you are a stupid cunt,” said her phone, in her own voice.

“That’s right, I’m a brainless wet-cunted bitch,” said Amelie automatically.  Then she picked up the phone and pointed it at her nude body, engaging the camera.

“My name is Amelie Raimes, and I am a sex offender,” she said, and forwarded the video to Ray.

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Amelie began to realise how much of her work day was now taken up with fulfilling the slutty obligations she had been forced into by her clients, her supervisor, and her co-workers.

She went straight to her office to put down her handbag, and her eyes fell upon her shelf of books.  She remembered Ray’s instruction, so she grabbed one off the shelf – Mary Wollstonecraft’s “A Vindication of the Rights of Women”.  She left again, heading for Mr Horner’s office, but she took the fire stairs to get there, and while in the stairs she stopped, and began ripping pages out of the book, and stuffing them, one by one, up her cunt.  She got about 30 pages up there before she started to feel full, and then she placed the book in a corner of a stairway landing to retrieve later, pulled her panties back up, and continued on to Mr Horner.

Mr Horner did indeed want his cock sucked this morning.  He didn’t make her strip nude, so Amelie simply knelt and gave her boss an efficient and enthusiastic blowjob, until she felt him filling her mouth with his sperm.  He told her that she had been a good little bitch, and she felt herself blush at the compliment.

Then it was back to her office, via the stairway.  In the stairway, she stopped, and pulled a piece of paper out of her cunt.  It was wet and soaked with her arousal.  She tried to focus on it and read the words, while her other hand slipped into her panties and began to stroke her clit.

“Contending for the rights of women, my main argument is built on this simple principle, that if she be not prepared by education to become the companion of man, she will stop the progress of knowledge, for truth must be common to all, or it will be inefficacious with respect to its influence on general practice.”

Amelie’s eyes crossed.  It was gibberish.  Contending?  Inefficacious?  Amelie had read this before and thought she understood it, but now, with the taste of cum in her mouth, with her hand on her clitoris, with her cheeks flushed and her nipples hard and her cunt wet, she couldn’t make head nor tail of it.  Why couldn’t the Wollstonecraft bitch write in simple words?  If she intended women to understand this, she should have kept to words of one syllable, and maybe included some pictures.

She pressed the piece of wet paper against her cleavage, to hold it in place, and then began to pull more pages out of her twat.  She wiped each one across her face, smearing her cheeks with her cunt juices, and then dropped them on the ground, there being no bin or toilet in the stairway.  Someone would no doubt find them and wonder what they were doing there, but that wasn’t Amelie’s problem.

Once her cunt was empty, she popped the page she had first tried to read into her mouth and swallowed it.  Then she intensified her masturbation and began to chant:

“I’m a stupid cunt.  I’m a stupid cunt.  I’m a stupid cunt.  I’m a stupid cunt.”

Somewhere above her in the stairwell, a door creaked open – and them immediately closed.  Someone had heard her.  Amelie’s face burned with shame, but she didn’t stop.

“I’m a stupid cunt.  I’m a stupid cunt.  I’m a….”

And then the orgasm hit her.  She knew she was training herself to get wet from feeling stupid, from feeling ashamed, from rejecting feminism, from hearing herself called stupid and from calling herself stupid.  And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

When she got back to her office, there were two packages waiting for her. 

She opened the first and found that it was full of the books she had ordered – new books, more appropriate for a slut like her.  It included a selection of twelve pornographic magazines, all showing fake-titted nude bimbos on the covers.  On some the bimbos were bound in rope, or being spanked, and in one case the woman was sucking a man’s cock.  

Amelie threw out her old, more boring magazines, and spread the new selection out on her office’s coffee table, making sure that the report on how she had pissed on her clothes in front of a man was among them, along with the nude photo of herself that bore the words “I deserve to have my tits slapped”.

She took the rest of her feminist and progressive books off the office bookshelf and put them in a pile in the corner.  They would slowly go up her cunt over coming days.  She replaced them with the new selection of books, which had titles like “The Joy of Rape”, “The Female Pet”, “The Natural Babymaker”, “The Bitch Epidemic” and “The Obedience of the Cunt: The Case for Disciplinary Rape in Managing Female Prisoners”.

None of this was truly appropriate for a parole officer’s office.  Amelie wondered how long she could go on without getting fired, given her current behaviour.  But the only people who saw this room were her clients, and sometimes her boss, so as long as she kept sucking Mr Horner’s dick, and as long as none of her clients raised an issue she should be fine.

“Amelie, you are a stupid cunt,” said her phone.

“That’s right, I’m a brainless wet-cunted bitch,” answered Amelie.

The second box turned out to be from Gary Sands.

Inside was a sheet of typewritten paper, a small box containing ten tied-off condoms filled with milk white semen, and a sealed envelope.

Amelie read the letter.

“Are you wearing clothes, you dumb bitch?  I bet you are.  You know you don’t deserve them.  Fix that.”

Amelie immediately stopped and undressed.  She didn’t want to.  She knew what she was about to do, and the dilemma that she would once again be in once she did, but whenever she tried to stop she thought about Gary being displeased, and she began to shake.

She was being dominated by five men.  If she displeased Mr Horner or her co-worker David Threnby she might get fired.  If she displeased Chris, he might rape or slap her.  If she displeased Ray, he might punish her in a way that genuinely hurt, or turn her in to the police. 

But Gary… Gary might do something worse.  He would clearly enjoy breaking her, in ways that left Amelie traumatised or dissociative.  He might do even more than that.  She was *scared* of Gary Sands.

And so she obeyed.  She removed every stitch of clothing, and then walked to the window and dropped them into the trash hopper below.

As usual, she had no replacement clothes.  She was once again trapped nude in her office.  She didn’t know what she was going to do about that.  But Gary didn’t want her to think.  He just wanted her to obey.

She returned to the letter.

“Go get your stun gun.  Kneel, with a bowl or receptacle between your legs.  Then be a good girl with the cum I have provided you.  Four condoms go into your mouth, but don’t swallow.  Savour the taste while you masturbate the rest up your fuckhole…”

The instructions continued, and Amelie obeyed.  She knew the condoms of cum probably didn’t all belong to Gary.  She had no idea who they came from, or whether it was even human semen.  Nevertheless she tipped four into her mouth, and then began to slowly push the contents of the rest up into her pussy, while rubbing her clit.

Was it viable sperm?  Could it get her pregnant?  Gary had implied on the last occasion that it was.  Did he really want her impregnated, or was he just fucking with her?

Shortly after pushing the final condom of cum into her twat, she felt her orgasm approaching.  She felt sick that she could orgasm from this, from obeying a rapist, from filling her womb with the sperm of strangers on command.  But her cunt was a traitor and it paid no heed to Amelie’s dignity or feminism or rational thought.  It wanted what it wanted, and it wanted to cum.

“When you feel yourself about to cum, open the envelope.”

Amelie did as she was told and opened the envelope, awkwardly, using one hand, while still masturbating with the other.

Inside was a pregnancy test.

She felt her body shudder with the sudden advent of orgasm.  Desperately, she reached out for her stun gun.

“When you feel yourself cumming like the slut you are, discharge your stun gun into your cunt.”

She pressed the gun against her twat and pulled the trigger.

Her orgasm was both ruined, and magnified.  It hurt, it felt strange, it reached parts of her it never normally did.  She felt herself crying, and at the same time her bladder released a little, and she felt piss spurt into the bowl between her legs.

When the orgasm passed, she moved the bowl to her lips quickly, and drooled the cum she had been holding in her mouth into the bowl.  Then she put it back between her legs so the cum in her pussy could drip out into it.

Then, the final instructions on the sheet of paper.

“Take the pregnancy test by pissing on it.  Do it over the bowl.  When you are done, open your office door so you have no privacy, and set your phone to record yourself, and then get on all fours and lick up everything in that bowl like a good little kitten.  Send the resulting video to me.”

“Oh, and I’m coming in for an appointment at 3 pm.  I expect you to be ready to please me.  I also expect you to have done something today that shows you understand what your gender deserves.  It’s up to you to decide what that is.  If it’s not pleasing enough, I *will* make you regret it.”

The note wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be.  The context made it clear it was Gary’s.

Shivering, shaking, she opened her office door – counting her blessings that she was at the end of a hallway and people rarely walked past – and then pissed on the pregnancy test.  She didn’t dare look at the results yet, so she put it to one side, and then got down on all fours.

Slowly, she began to lick the piss and cum out of the bowl like a cat, all in order to please a serial rapist.

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You can find more stories of the justice system in my e-book Crime and Punishment – Erotic Stories of Law and Authority, available for only $4.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  By making a purchase, you’re showing me how much you enjoy these stories – and giving me the support I need to keep writing! (Click here to view in store.)

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