Throughout it all, Laura thought about what was happening to her. Was the Mayim Clinic’s therapy making her want to fuck men? Was she turning into a slut? As to the first, she dismissed it. Sure, she was coming to enjoy having a cock-shaped object in her mouth. But that was just an oral fixation, right? As a child, she’d sucked her thumb until the age of six, and she still enjoyed lollipops and icy poles. She liked sucking on things. It didn’t mean she specifically wanted men. She enjoyed sucking on the strap-on dildo when it was on her girlfriend, after all. (But not quite as much, a traitorous part of her mind suggested.)
And was she a slut? No, she was just doing what she needed to do to protect herself and Erica. That wasn’t being a slut; that was being adult. If she was walking around with her pussy dripping and cum drying on her tits because she wanted to, that would be slutty. But doing it because she was being forced to was completely different.
Laura’s opinion on this would flip back and forth: sometimes she had herself convinced that she was a proud lesbian hero, looking after herself and the girl she cared about. When she felt like this, she would lovingly caress and kiss Erica at home, and make love to her gently. But at other times the shame and self-loathing about the way she was spending more and more of her time acting like a fucktoy would overwhelm her, and when it did she took it out on her girlfriend, raping and hurting the poor girl and filling her orifices with piss and pig sperm.
Laura could see that Erica was scared of her these days. When Erica accidentally did things that might annoy Laura, Laura could see Erica involuntarily flinch. Erica was submitting to Laura more and more easily, and she never questioned Laura’s demands or resisted them anymore. Every day Laura always came home to find Erica naked and kneeling and ready to be fucked. A part of Laura felt horrified at what she was doing to the girl she loved, but another, stronger, part really, really liked having such a pretty sex slave to use and abuse.
Chapter 15
JOB INTERVIEW
On Saturday morning there was an email from Laura’s blackmailer.
She found it early in the morning. She’d gotten up early, and Erica was still asleep in bed, sprawled nude across the sheets, recovering from the raping Laura had given her last night. Laura had crept out of the bedroom, gone to the computer room, bared her tits to the computer’s camera, and then checked her email.
To: Pink-Haired Fucktoy
From: You Know Who
—
Good little slut! We are very pleased with your progress at the Mayim Clinic. You are being a very obedient little lezzy pet and we are happy. We have enjoyed watching you rape the cute little fuckpuppet you live with every night. Thank you for that.
Thank you also for the $1,000 you deposited last night. Good little slutkitten. We won’t need to cut any parts off you this week.
This weekend we have some very special rules for you to follow. They apply from right now until you wake up on Monday morning.
1) You are not to touch your own panties for any reason this weekend, including touching them with an item you are holding. You will probably need your slut lezbo girlfriend’s help to put them on this morning and take them off tonight.
2) You are only to refer to those giant whore tits you have as “fuckhandles”, “sex-balloons”, “milkbags” or “rapemelons” for the rest of the weekend. Use all four terms; cycle through them and don’t leave any out. You are not to indicate your tits in any way other way, including using other words for them, pointing at them, referring to them as “they”, “them”, or “those”, or using non-verbal noises such as coughing.
3) You are to answer any questions about your breasts, your chest area, or any clothes covering your breasts fulsomely and honestly.
4) Instead of a regular bra, you are to wear the special bra that has been delivered to your house. You will find it on your doorstep, along with instructions for wearing it. If you are ever required to explain why you are wearing it, you are to indicate that you like it and that you feel it suits you.
—
Laura looked at the instructions. Not touching her own panties was strange, but Laura couldn’t immediately see a difficulty with it. Having to call her breasts…. those names were obscene. If she understood the instructions, she wasn’t allowed to avoid talking about her breasts if it was otherwise appropriate to do so. But having to describe them using those words was beyond humiliating.
Honestly, though, how often did Laura talk about her breasts? Hardly ever, right? She could go a whole day without mentioning them, easy.
The instructions would have been completely trivial except that Laura needed to go looking for work today. She needed an extra job to meet the repayments to her blackmailer. She didn’t have time to send off resumes and wait for replies so she was going to have to go directly to businesses and hope they would hire her on the spot.
The fourth requirement worried Laura. She snuck out of the computer room to the front door, and opened it slightly, covering her still-bare tits with one arm. There was a box sitting there, which Laura pulled inside before closing the door again. There was no sign of who had sent the box but it had clearly come by post, not hand delivery, which Laura was grateful for.
Inside, her heart sank to see the bra. It was nothing but a short length of chain, with each end terminating in a metal clamp. The only other thing included was a photo of a big-titted blonde slut. The slut had clipped the chain to one nipple, passed it around the back of her neck, before bringing it down and fastening it to her other tit.
Laura had to take a deep breath. The “bra” was not only humiliating, but it looked painful. The clamps at each end were of cruel ridged metal. Tentatively, Laura eased one onto her left nipple, and was unable to stop herself squealing in pain. She had to jam her fist in her mouth to stop herself from waking up Erica.
She looked down at the chain in distress. It was hanging heavily from her left nipple, pulling agonizingly on the soft flesh of her boob. Should she take it off? But she had to wear this this weekend or the blackmailer would… hurt her. Hurt her worse than a clamp on her nipple. Laura tried to calm down and ignore the pain. She lifted the chain, slung it around the back of her neck, and pulled it down towards her right breast.
The chain was too short. It stopped a good four centimeters above her right nipple.
Laura wanted to cry in frustration. It didn’t fit. What was she supposed to do? Tell her blackmailer she couldn’t do it? Would he even reply, or would he just punish her immediately? She pulled on the chain, willing it to reach her nipple, whimpering as it pulled her other funbag upwards.
And it almost did reach. Laura’s left breast was tugged obscenely upwards by the chain, but it almost reached her right. Maybe if Laura lifted her right boob a little…
With a squeak of triumph, she released the second clamp onto her right nipple. Pain shot through her fuckbags but the chain was in place. Cupping her boobs tenderly in her hands, she went to look at herself in the bathroom mirror.
She looked bizarre. Both her breasts were being pulled upwards by their nipples, giving the general impression that her tits improbably angled upwards. The pressure of the chain on the back of her neck was uncomfortable, and her breasts hurt immensely. Unless she was cupping her breasts, every step made them bounce and tug on the chain, which resulted in agonizing pain in her nipples. Was she really going to wear this torture device the rest of the weekend?
Laura knew she was. The alternative was too awful.
Trying to ignore the pain in her nipples, Laura dressed herself to look for work. She put on a short pink skirt, and found a white woolen sweater that went some way to concealing the odd angle of her tits. She put on her makeup and styled her hair, and then went to wake Erica up for help with getting her panties on, just as her blackmailer had said.
Erica, of course, wanted to know what was up with Laura’s tits. Gritting her teeth, Laura said, “It’s just a chain that pulls on my nipples. I like it. It suits me.” Erica opened her mouth to ask another question; Laura spoke first. “Can we please stop talking about my… my sex-balloons? Just help me get my panties on.”
Subdued by Laura’s angry tone and fearing punishment, Erica said nothing further, even though she was clearly dying to know why Laura needed help putting on her own underwear, and why Laura was calling her breasts “sex-balloons”.
Once Laura’s panties were on, she thanked Erica with a kiss, slipped her feet into some high heels, and set out in the car to try some workplaces.
Driving felt strange. Laura couldn’t help but feel that every other driver on the road must be able to tell that she had a chain clipped to her nipples, pulling her… rapemelons upwards. She blushed the entire way into the city center, and when she finally reached the city and parked she had to take several long deep breaths to talk herself into getting out of the car. It felt like she was exposing herself as a colossal slut to anyone who even looked at her. Who was this pink-haired whore deliberately abusing her own fuckhandles in public? But it wasn’t that bad, Laura told herself. She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror of the car. You couldn’t really tell, unless you were staring straight at Laura’s bosom. In a sudden motion, committing, she opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, and not one person turned to stare at her. Everyone continued about their business, oblivious to Laura and the distracting pain in her tits.
Laura spent that morning walking from shop to shop, asking about the possibility of casual vacancies on weekends and/or Wednesday nights. At each store she left a copy of her resume. But nowhere did anyone sound enthusiastic about employing her. She had concentrated mainly on clothes shops and boutique retailers. Sometimes the shop girls that she spoke to looked at Laura’s chest disapprovingly, and Laura would blush. She didn’t know if they had some inkling of the chain pulling her fuckbags upwards, or whether they just had the same opinions about girls with big tits that Laura did, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting a call back from any of those shops. Others seemed suspicious of her pink hair, or possibly the slow, careful way Laura was walking to avoid having her breasts bounce agonizingly against the chain.
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