Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
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Tahlia didn’t sleep that night.
Junko did. She passed out almost as soon as Tahlia undressed her and put her into bed. Tahlia wondered how much Junko would remember. Would she remember she had exposed her tits to a man, and kissed him, and let him feel her breasts? Would she remember that Tahlia had sucked the man’s cock and swallowed his cum? Or would it – blessedly – all be a blur to her?
She had no answer. But she did have obligations.
She had acquired new rules at the bar. The first was to practice deepthroating, so she wouldn’t be forced to struggle against a man due to gag reflex like she had done at the bar. It was a ridiculous rule, because Tahlia was a lesbian and she certainly didn’t intend to ever suck a cock again in her life. But the hypnosis was unbreakable, and she had to do as it asked.
She got one of her transparent plastic dildos from the bedside table, and went to the lounge, where she wouldn’t wake Junko. She stripped out of her slutty club dress, until she was nude, and sat on the lounge. Then, slowly, she began to push the dildo into her mouth, aiming for it to hit her throat, aiming to trigger the gag reflex, so she could overcome it.
But she had a second obligation from her rules. Whenever she rejected a man, she had to masturbate to orgasm within 24 hours while imagining what she had rejected.
She had rejected three explicit propositions at the bar:
- An offer for Junko and Tahlia to kiss each other with a man’s erect cock between their lips.
- A man who was trying to pull off her panties and pull her dress up in front of the entire bar.
- York’s offer for them to come home to his apartment, which she had interpreted as an offer for Junko and Tahlia to fuck him.
She began to play with her pussy, and as she did so she tried to picture kissing a man’s cock, and sharing it with Junko.
It was repellent. She was a lesbian. She didn’t like cocks. It was hard to stay wet, thinking about such a thing.
Experimentally, she pulled the dildo out of her mouth, and laid it sideways against her lips. She pictured Junko on the other side of it, kissing it just like Tahlia was doing. Then she slid the dildo back and forth, as if it were using Tahlia and Junko’s shared lips to masturbate.
It actually felt kind of good – strange, but good. But it wasn’t quite right. She remembered how York’s cock had been – slimy with pre-cum.
Quickly, she pushed the dildo into her cunt, burying it all the way within her, and the pulling it back out, coated with her cunt slime. She laid it back against her lips, and now it felt a little better.
She kissed and slobbered at it, like there was a pretty girl on the other side of it that she was desperate to kiss, and she rubbed her clit. The dildo tasted like her cunt, and that was slutty, but kind of good. Every now and then she pushed it back into her fuckhole for another slathering of cunt juices, and then went back to kissing and licking it.
She was getting turned on now, but she knew she wasn’t quite doing it right. She was treating it as an actual dildo – ungendered, nothing but an object – instead of picturing a real man’s cock. She tried to imagine it was York’s cock she was pleasing, and when she did she became less aroused. She had to turn off her brain and focus on the sensations again before she could creep back towards orgasm.
Due to this, it took her over an hour until she felt an orgasm approaching. When it did, she let it happen – and at the instant that she felt the orgasm hit, her body shaking, her cunt pulsing, she switched the image in her mind, picturing herself and Junko kissing York’s slimy, cum-slathered erect dick.
And she came, hard, to that thought.
Next she began to picture having her cunt exposed to a crowd of strangers – having it done to her by a man, and letting it happen. As she did, she went back to deepthroating the dildo. Every time it touched the back of her throat, she felt the gag reflex come on, but she held the dildo in place, and gave her body no mercy, and slowly, slowly, she started to learn to ignore the urge to gag, and breathe through her nose, and let the dildo fuck her throat.
Being exposed to strangers was much easier to cum to. There were no dicks involved. It was humiliating, the idea of being exposed like that – but the humiliation was kind of hot. And soon she was cumming again, as she pictured a room full of men staring at her exposed twat.
And then the third one was the hardest of all. Or at least, it should have been.
She pictured a man’s apartment. She pictured herself and Junko naked, with York, who was also naked. She pictured his dick. She pictured him sliding it into her cunt and fucking her.
It was so gross. But she had to masturbate. She rubbed her clit as she imagined being fucked by a man, feeling his warm hard cock in her pussy, smelling his scent, kissing him as she had kissed York today.
She moved the dildo to her cunt, and began fucking herself with it. That helped. She could pretend it was an actual man’s dick, and then she had to admit that it felt good.
She pictured York fucking Junko. She pictured Junko nude, drugged, half-passed-out, moaning as York humped her, his cock repeatedly penetrating her defenseless cunt.
Junko didn’t believe in birth control. She said real lesbians didn’t need it. She said it fucked with women’s mental health. She didn’t use it, and she didn’t let Tahlia use it.
If York ejaculated into Junko, he might get her pregnant. And people said that the date rape drug, Starlight, increased fertility.
She pictured Junko pregnant – her belly swollen, her tits enlarged, her nipples leaking milk.
Suddenly she was cumming – and she was only just in time to change what she was imagining. As the orgasm took her, she pictured herself kissing York, his cock in her pussy, and he was ejaculating into her, impregnating her….
By the time she came down from her orgasm, the morning sun was coming in through the apartment windows. Tahlia had spent all night masturbating while thinking about cocks. Now she was tired, and her cunt ached, and soon she would have to go to work, with no sleep.
And she had another problem. She had learned to overcome her gag reflex – but that wasn’t entirely what her rule had promised. She had said she would become familiar with the feel… and taste… of deepthroating.
Real cocks didn’t taste of saliva or cunt juices. They tasted of cum. Men’s cum.
Either she needed to get rid of this rule – or else she needed to find some cum to smear over her dildo. And her conditioning was going to make her find that cum – whether she wanted to or not.
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She showered, so that Junko wouldn’t wake up and wonder why Tahlia smelt of sweat and cunt juices, but by the time she was out of the shower she realised that wasn’t going to be an issue. Junko was still fast asleep, and she showed no sign of waking in time for work.
That was fine. Tahlia could call in sick for her and let Junko sleep it off.
Dressing for work presented a challenge. One of her rules was to dress to emphasise her tits. But she still had to dress appropriately for work.
She ended up selecting a blouse that was a little too small for her, and tight across the tits. She paired it with a push-up bra, and then unbuttoned the blouse down to her bra line. She looked slutty – more like a porn parody of a secretary than an empowered project manager – but she thought she could get away with it.
As she dressed, she tried to plan out how she was going to encourage a man to sexually harass her, in a way that would be safe and controllable, so that she could discard two of her rules, including the deepthroat practice one. But every time she tried, her mind kept turning to her other problem – the one created by the deepthroating rule itself – of how she could obtain a man’s cum, to help her become accustomed to the taste.
It was infuriating. She just couldn’t control her thoughts. They were consumed by making sure that she followed this rule. The only way that she could escape them was to let her mind go completely blank – and that was useless for getting her out of her predicament.
She still hadn’t thought of a plan by the time she left the apartment.
There was a man in the lobby of the apartment building. He was tall and bespectacled, and Tahlia recognised him as Evan Wexworth, who had an apartment two floors below Tahlia. He was retrieving his mail from the lobby mailboxes, and he looked at her as she came out of the elevator – and then he did a double take, and opened his mouth.
Tahlia saw what was about to happen. He was going to comment on her unbuttoned blouse. Or say that she was looking good. And then, because he’d shown her attention, she was going to have to compliment him, and believe it. And she might end up stroking his arm or his chest in a flirty way, while he stared at her tits. And then she was going to have to tell him that he could see her tits, for only twenty dollars.
She did her best to circumvent all of it.
“Sorry, Evan, not today, I’m in a hurry,” she said, with a sharpness intended to forestall him completely, as she strode by him as quickly as she could.
And it worked, at least as far as Evan went. He closed his mouth, and said nothing, and didn’t stare at her tits.
But there was no fooling her Compelled Courtesy conditioning. It knew what she had done. She had deliberately rejected sexual harassment. In advance, certainly – but that didn’t seem to matter.
She needed a new rule.
She moaned with frustration as she felt her mind deciding what it would be. The problem, she thought to herself, was that she was trying to be too clever. Trying to make the best decisions. Trying to find loopholes in her programming.
From now on, twice a day, she would deliberately make a bad decision, that would stop her from preventing the worst consequences of her conditioning.
Click.
No! The rule filled Tahlia with despair. She hadn’t realised that there could be rules like this – rules that made it harder for her to even try to protect herself. Too many rules like this, and she would be trapped forever.
And the worst bit was that she had made it up. It was her own mind that suggested it, presumably because some part of her thought she deserved it.
She needed to get rid of some rules. She needed to get rid of them NOW.
Rather than heading for her car, she ran down the street. She could see a man in his early 20s some distance along the footpath, walking his dog.
She ran up to him.
“Excuse me, sir, do you think I’m pretty?” she asked him.
He looked at her in surprise. “Sure,” he said, “you’re pretty hot.”
She felt herself blush – and her rules made her say, “You’re pretty hot, too.” And when she said it, she believed it. Part of her mind began to picture what it would be like for this man to fuck her – even as the lesbian majority of her mind screamed, and tried to tell her that was a fake thought, and she should stop thinking it.
“Would you like to see my tits?” she continued. “You can, for only twenty dollars.”
He squinted. “Is this a joke?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, completely real. If you’ve got twenty dollars, I’ll show you my tits.”
He pulled a wallet from his pants, took out twenty dollars, and gave it to her. Tahlia promptly unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way, pulled it open, and then pulled up her bra to expose her breasts.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this on a public street, so near to where she lived. She felt humiliated.
And yet, this wasn’t enough. To lose a rule, she had to encourage the man to harass or objectify her more than he would have anyway, and more than her rules naturally caused.
“Have you ever wanted to call women names?” she said. “Like slut or bitch? I know you might have some reluctance to do that, but you can do that with me. Call me anything you like. I promise it’s okay.”
He blushed. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What is this about?”
“It’s a dare from my… friend,” said Tahlia. “Please. If it’s hard, try and imagine what it would be like to rape me, to push me down and force yourself inside me. Wouldn’t that be fun? And then just… say any names you’d want to call me while doing that.”
Her cunt throbbed as she stood there with her tits out, watching as this man she didn’t even know stared at her breasts and imagined violently raping her.
“You’re a fucking whore,” he said finally. “You’re a cockteasing little bitch who deserves to be raped. You’re a dumb big-titted cunt.”
And she had a look of genuine pleasure on her face as he called her those things, because she felt her brain giving her permission to delete two rules. And she was obviously going to get rid of the deepthroat rule, and the bad decisions rule…
The bad decisions rule. She should make a bad decision. Right now. She should keep the rules she hated, and get rid of ones that weren’t a big deal.
She chose to lose her harassment diary, and the rule about showing her tits for twenty dollars.
“Fuck,” she swore. “Fuck, fuck.”
“Is it… okay?” asked the man. “Was that too much?”
She still needed cum. She needed to taste cum.
She didn’t want. She felt like she might cry. But the rules were going to make her.
“Would you… would you like me to give you a handjob?” she asked.
“How much?” said the man.
“Free,” she said. “As long as… as long as I can keep your cum.”
“God, you really are a fucking whore,” he said. “Okay. My apartment’s near here. Let’s do it.”
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