When April was raped it was awful. 

 

She had been out at a nightclub, drunk, dressed in a sexy little clubbing dress.  On her way to the women’s toilets, a man had grabbed her, dragged her out a fire door into a dark alleyway, ripped off her clothes, and pushed her down amongst the dirty metal garbage bins.  Kneeling behind her, he had stuffed his cock into her pussy, and fucked her, while spitting on her and calling a “disgusting whore” and a “filthy slut”.

 

She had had to go home naked, sitting humiliated in the back of a taxi on full display to the driver as her rapist’s cum had dripped from her cunt.

 

But her mistake was in reporting it to her workplace.  She worked as a salesgirl in a clothing shop.  She needed the job - the employment market was tight, and even a minimum wage was the difference between paying rent and living on the street.

 

Her employer was respectful and considerate - too considerate.  “Go get counselling,” he told her.  “This is a big deal.  Take a break.  Don’t come back to work until you’ve had counselling.”

 

But April couldn’t afford to take a break - especially an unpaid break.  And she also couldn’t afford counselling.  Therapists were expensive.

 

It was her friend Jodie who gave her the solution.  “There’s this counsellor I know,” she said.  “His name’s Mitch Wilkins.  He offers a discount, but it’s a little unusual.”

 

“What kind of discount?” asked April.

 

“You pay full price,” said Jodie.  “But it’s free… if you make him cum.”

 

“What, like you have to fuck him?” asked April.

 

“No, you do a regular hour of counselling,” she said.  “And if he cums while he’s counselling you, you get it free.”

 

It sounded weird and humiliating.  But April was desperate to get back to paid work.  She just had to show she’d been to a session of counselling.

 

So she made an appointment for that week with Wilkins - she was pleased to be able to get in so quickly - and turned up on the appointed day.

 

“April,” said the counsellor.  He was handsome enough, in a bespectacled, distracted way.

 

“Hi,” said April.  “I heard there was a… discount.”

 

He looked at her, and said, “Yes, you’re pretty enough.  We’ll do the session.  If I orgasm by the end, it’s free.  Otherwise it costs $300.”

 

April couldn’t afford $300.  She hoped that this Mitch Wilkins would cum.

 

He asked if she would like a chair, or the classic therapist’s lounge.  She chose a regular chair.  He asked her what she was here for, and she slowly, hesitantly, began to talk about her rape.

 

As she talked, he opened his fly, took out his cock, and began to masturbate.

 

April blushed, but kept talking, describing how her clothes had been ripped off, how the man had shoved his cock into her pussy and fucked her until he came.

 

Wilkins asked her questions as she spoke, masturbating all the while.

 

“Were you wearing panties?”

 

“Of course!” she protested, offended.

 

“Were you aroused?”

 

“No!”

 

Finally, he said, “April, we have ten minutes left in this session, and I haven’t cum.  If you’d like the discount, I’d advise you to apply your mouth to my cock as I give you my opinion on what you’ve said.”

 

Her eyes bulged.  At first she dithered, not sure what to do.  But she couldn’t afford $300.  She got up, walked across the room quickly, knelt in front of him, and took his cock into her mouth.

 

As she sucked desperately on his stiff dick, Wilkins said, “You should masturbate yourself, too.  It will help me to cum.”

 

Blushing, April worked a hand under the waistband of her skirt and panties and began to finger her own pussy.

 

“April, the story you’ve told me just isn’t believable,” said Wilkins.  “My expert opinion is that you’ve made all this up to get attention.  I don’t believe that anyone who had as unenjoyable and unwelcome rape as you’ve just described would then be so willing to suck off their psychologist for a discount on their bill.”

 

April’s face flushed with offended humiliation.  How could he say that?  He was the one who had asked her to do this.  She tried to lift her head off his cock to protest, but he put a hand on the back of her head, forcing her back down, and she stayed put.

 

“I think you’ve made up this story of being called a filthy slut and being fucked amongst the garbage because deep down, you know that’s what you deserve,” he said.  “Isn’t that true, April?  Stay silent if the answer is yes.”

 

And as he said that, he pushed her down on his cock, hard, until the tip of his cock was buried in her throat, and then he bucked his hips and ejaculated into her mouth.  She made a muffled gargling sound, and desperately swallowed his sperm.

 

When he was done, he pushed her away roughly, and said, “Your appointment is free today.  If you’re going to come back again, I’d advise you to wear something more attractive, and take care to make the things you tell me more entertaining.  Next time if I need help in cumming, it will be in your pussy, and if you get pregnant, that will be entirely your responsibility.”

 

===

 

She took the receipt from the humiliating psych appointment to her manager, and he let her return to work - but with a catch.

 

“I’m glad you took my advice and went to counselling,” he said, “but you know the first session is just for triage, right?  You need to keep going.”

 

“I really don’t need to,” April demurred.

 

“Yes, you do, April,” said her manager.  “I want to see evidence of fortnightly appointments, or else you’ll be on unpaid sick leave again.”

 

April clenched her fists in frustration - but there was nothing for it. 

 

She still couldn’t afford full-price counselling, so she made another appointment with Wilkins.

 

This time, she put on makeup, and wore a cute dress, short skirt and high heels.  When she arrived, Wilkins smiled approvingly at her look.

 

Once again, she sat in the chair, and Wilkins had her talk through her rape again, stroking his cock openly as he listened.

 

April’s eyes were fixed on his cock.  She needed to make him cum - without having his cock in her pussy.  She was on birth control, but birth control wasn’t 100%.  She had been scared enough by her rape that she’d had a pregnancy test.  She didn’t want to have another one.

 

She took care this time to describe the dress she had been wearing, and how it had flattered her tits and her ass.  She spent more time describing how the rapist had dragged her outside by her hair, how the cold air had felt on her nipples and pussy when he ripped her clothes off, how his cock had felt as it forced its way into her cunt, and how her nipples had bounced against the hard asphalt of the alleyway as her rapist had fucked her.

 

Wilkins was clearly more aroused today than he had been at the last appointment, stroking his cock more vigorously.  But still, as the session neared its end, he hadn’t cum.

 

“Ten minutes, April,” he advised her.  “You know what to do if you want the discount.”

 

With a moan of humiliation, April got up, pulled off her panties, and began frantically masturbating.  She became wet surprisingly quickly, whereupon she ran over to Wilkins, and sat on his lap, guiding his cock into her pussy. 

 

She bounced enthusiastically on his cock - but she had wasted too much time masturbating, and when the session timer ended, he still hadn’t orgasmed. 

 

“Get off, and kneel,” he told her.

 

She did, embarrassed, confused - and when she was kneeling in front of him, he quickly pumped his cock, and finally came.  Sperm spurted from his dick and splattered over April’s face.  She flinched.

 

“Your story was more believable today,” he said, “but I think we still haven’t reached the truth.  You owe me $300 for today’s session, but if you return for a third session and make me cum, I’ll waive the debt.”

 

He wouldn’t let her wipe the sperm off her face until she’d left his office.  April went home humiliated, knowing that she didn’t have $300 to pay the debt with, and knowing she’d have to return for another session and get him to orgasm.

 

===

 

At her third session, April was wearing much the same clothes as she had at the second - but once Wilkins closed his office door behind her, she nervously stripped off her blouse and removed her bra, exposing her tits.  Then she raised her skirt, revealing that she wasn’t wearing panties, and showed him her naked cunt.

 

“Very good girl,” said Wilkins approvingly.  “And the chair, or the lounge?”

 

“The lounge,” she said.  Her voice shook.  She couldn’t believe she was doing this.  But she needed a free counselling session, and needed to waive the debt from last week.

 

She lay on the lounge and, blushing, lowered her fingers to her cunt and began to masturbate.  If she couldn’t get him off before the 10-minute mark, she couldn’t afford to waste time becoming lubricated at the last minute.

 

She had intended to only slightly adjust her story this time, but masturbating did something to her brain.  It felt so slutty and perverted to be here, fingering her cunt in front of a professional man, that she got wet very, very quickly.  And once she was wet, she found herself choosing her words and her emphasis to please her pussy, picking out the phrasings that would make her twat pulse happily as she teased it.

 

“I was wearing a dress that made me look like a slut,” she admitted.  “Everything I did or said in the club that night was designed to make men want to rape me.  I loved the attention.  I loved being a cocktease.  I loved knowing I was making men’s cocks hard.  I loved knowing they were objectifying me.”

 

Was she lying, or was this the truth?  She didn’t know, but she could hear Wilkins moaning with lust as she spoke, so she knew she was doing well.

 

“When the man grabbed me by the hair and pulled me, it felt so *right*,” she confessed, pumping her fingers in and out of her fuckhole.  “Like that’s the way I should always go places.  And when he ripped my clothes off, it felt so *natural* - so good.”

 

“I was wet long before he stuck his cock in me,” she continued.  “Dripping wet.  I was moaning like a slut in heat.  He probably didn’t even think he was raping me.  He was doing exactly what I wanted him to do.  In fact, I wanted him to use me harder - to hit me, to crush my tits into the ground, to kick me in the cunt.”

 

She wanted someone to kick her in the cunt now.  She was so wet.

 

“And when he came inside me - when I realised I might have just been impregnated by a rapist,” she finished, “I orgasmed.  I orgasmed so hard.”

 

And she suddenly had the strangest feeling that that was true - that that had really happened.  Had it?  Had she just been repressing the truth?  Or was the bizarre self-humiliation she was engaging in fucking with her brain?

 

She didn’t know.  She suddenly felt very scared - and so aroused, she could barely think.

 

Wilkins stood, and walked over to her quickly.  He jerked his cock once, twice - and then cum was splattering down on April, onto her face, her tits, her stomach.

 

April kept masturbating - and, moments later, she found her own orgasm.

 

“Thank me,” said Wilkins, in a clipped, stern voice.  “Then clean me with your mouth.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” said April, then did as she was told, rising to her knees on the couch and suckling on the counsellor’s cock with her hungry, eager mouth.

 

“I think we’ve made a breakthrough here, April,” said Wilkins.  “I think we’ve reached the truth.  This week and your last session are free.  Return next time, and I think we can reach a resolution on this.”

 

===

 

When she came down from her arousal, April couldn’t believe what she had done and what she had said.  A flood of guilt overwhelmed her, accompanied by self-loathing and disgust.  At home, alone in bed, she began to slap at her tits and pussy, trying to punish herself - but it just felt good, and soon she was masturbating with one hand and beating her tits with the other, her mind filled with images of her rape - both the traumatic original version - the real version? - and the slutty, erotic one she had described to Wilkins.

 

She orgasmed, and orgasmed again, and fell asleep crying, knowing she was going to go back to Wilkins and do whatever it took to achieve the discount yet again.

 

===

 

At her fourth session, instead of April telling her story, Wilkins had her kneel naked in front of him.  He turned on a computer screen and turned it to face her.  He had her masturbate his cock, aiming it at her face, while she fingered her own pussy and watched the screen.

 

On the screen was a video of April’s last session.  Wilkins had filmed it.  April watched herself nude, masturbating sluttily, explaining how she had been a filthy cocktease who had enjoyed her own rape.  She watched Wilkins ejaculate over her, and watched herself thank him and lick his cock clean.

 

She masturbated as she watched - as Wilkins had told her to - and felt the colossal guilt and shame the video provoked in her go to war with the lust arising from her wet cunt.

 

Had April been lying last week?  Or had it been the truth all along?  It was impossible to believe the writhing slut on the video wouldn’t enjoy being raped. 

 

“I believe this was the truth of your sexual encounter at the nightclub, April,” said Wilkins, as she stroked his cock.  “Am I correct?”

 

April flushed.  “I don’t know,” she said.

 

“Then let’s go through the story one last time,” said Wilkins.  He took out a camera and aimed it at April as she knelt on the floor nude.  He also passed her an envelope, and said, “When you get to the end, read the contents of this envelope out loud.  If you do, this session is free.  If you don’t, I’ll send the footage we just watched to your employer.”

 

April couldn’t think straight.  She was filled with self-loathing and guilt.  She had already been fingering her fuckhole for 20 minutes and she wanted to cum.  She was jerking off her counsellor, aiming his cock right at her face, and she had just received sexual pleasure from watching herself degrading herself on camera. 

 

“I went to the nightclub to get raped,” she said.  “I fantasise about being raped all the time.  When I went to the toilets, I was going to go to the men’s toilets, and masturbate in a stall with the door open so men could see me, but the guy who raped me caught me before I could get there.  As he raped me, I begged him to abduct me, to take me home and use me again and again, but he was so disgusted by what a slut I was that he left after he’d cum inside me.  I was so turned on by the idea that he’d impregnated me that I masturbated in my car on the way to buy the pregnancy test, and fucked my pussy with the little plastic stick in the test before actually pissing on it to see if I was pregnant.  I’m such a disgusting whore.”

 

She moaned.  She didn’t know why she was saying this.  She wanted to stop.  She wanted to cum.  She wanted Wilkins to cum.

 

She took her hand away from her pussy and opened the envelope.  She pulled out the paper inside and read it.

 

She paused.  She looked up at Wilkins.

 

He looked back at her.

 

If she didn’t read it, he would send the video to her manager.

 

She felt something inside her curl into a foetal ball.  She hated herself.  She hated what she was about to do.

 

She read the paper.

 

“I want it to happen to me again,” she said.

 

Wilkins smiled, nodded, and stood.  He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of his office, nude, past his receptionist - who seemed entirely unsurprised - through a door and into an alley behind his office.  He pushed her up against a wall between the garbage bins, and forced his cock into her pussy from behind.

 

She moaned, and simultaneously began to buck her hips against him and cry genuine tears of misery.

 

“Those are tears of catharsis, April,” he told her.  “They’re the tears of making a genuine emotional breakthrough.  You’ve realised the truth about your rape, haven’t you?”

 

She couldn’t immediately form words, but she tried to nod. 

 

“What is it, April?” he said.  “You know the truth.  Say it out loud.”

 

She mumbled something.

 

He reached forward and slapped her across the face.  She orgasmed - a small orgasm, but she could feel another bigger one coming behind it.

 

“What is the truth about your rape, April?” he asked her again.

 

She made a long, choked, sobbing noise - and then spoke.

 

The truth.  The reality.

 

“I deserved it,” she said.  “I enjoyed it.  I wished I had gotten pregnant.  And I want it to happen again, and again, and again.”

 

And with that, Wilkins ejaculated inside her, and as he did, April felt the second, bigger orgasm hit her.  She came hard, wailing her misery and degradation as her cunt spasmed wildly around her therapist’s cock.

 

When Wilkins pulled out of her, he didn’t need to tell her what to do.  “Thank you, sir,” she said, and turned around and cleaned his dick with her mouth, using her fingers to push his cum further up her pussy, deeper into her womb.

 

“I think we’re done, April,” he said.  “That brings us to full closure on your rape.  You’ve made peace with what happened to you, and why it happened.”

 

She felt happy at his praise - but then panicked.  She took her mouth off his cock.  “But my employer needs me to keep coming to counselling,” she said.

 

“Well, then,” said Wilkins, guiding her head back onto his cock.  “I expect that you’ll stop taking birth control, and then go out and get yourself raped again, so that we’ll have something new to talk about.  Does that sound acceptable, April?”

 

Her body twitched, and she started making muffled noises against his groin, as best she could while gagged by his dick. 

 

It was her third - and most powerful - orgasm of the session. 

 

And he - correctly - took it as a “yes”.

 

(END)