Emily had it all.  At the age of 25 she’d already launched two businesses, made successes of them, and sold them for a huge profit.  Now, while developing her third venture, she toured the lecture circuit, raking in enormous speaking fees to talk about female empowerment, and how to succeed as a woman in a cutthroat world.

 

On the night before her biggest lecture booking of the year, Emily found herself in the hotel bar, talking to a good-looking man who called himself Jim.

 

“And what do you do for a job?” she asked him.

 

“Oh, I’m a professional hypnotist,” he said.

 

She laughed.  “That’s not really a thing, is it?” she asked.

 

“It absolutely is,” he assured her.  “Would you like a demonstration?”

 

And so – a little drunk, and more than a little unwise, she followed Jim back to his hotel room.

 

To his delight, Jim found that the pretty businesswoman was among that segment of the population that responded instantly and enthusiastically to hypnosis, despite her scepticism.  She fell into a trance almost immediately, and when he tested her, he found her to be deep under his hypnotic spell.

 

What Emily didn’t know was that Jim was in town to face disciplinary proceedings relating to his work as a hypnotherapist.  Jim had never been able to resist playing with the minds of pretty young things when they came into his office – and he had a particular kink for making women more humiliated, insecure and slutty than they were when he had met them.

 

“Let’s talk about your work,” he told Emily, once he had her under.  “It must be stressful.”

 

“Yes,” said Emily blankly.

 

“As a successful woman, I bet you have a lot of trouble with men, don’t you?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” said Emily again.

 

“Tell me about that.”

 

“They call me names,” said Emily, frowning.

 

“Like what?” he asked.

 

“Cunt,” said Emily immediately.  “Bitch.”

 

“Why do you think they call you those names, Emily?” asked Jim.

 

“Because they’re misogynists,” said Emily.  “Because they hate women and they’re jealous of my success.”

 

“Can you think of an alternate reason why they might call you those names, Emily?” asked Jim.

 

She was silent.

 

Jim waited, and then prompted her.  “Emily?  Can you think of a reason?”

 

“Yes,” she said quietly.  “But I don’t like it.”

 

“Tell me the reason, Emily,” said Jim.

 

“Because it’s true,” said Emily.  “Because I’m a cunt and a bitch.”

 

“Do you think you might actually be a cunt and a bitch, Emily?”

 

She paused again – and then said, quietly, “Yes.”

 

“Why do you think that is, Emily?” asked Jim.

 

“Because… I’m mean to people in my businesses,” she said.  “My employees.  My competitors.  Sometimes my customers.  I hurt people and screw people over to make money.  I’m a cunt and a bitch.  It’s how I got successful.”

 

“It’s not very nice to be a cunt and a bitch, is it, Emily?” asked Jim.

 

“No,” she said, almost moaning.

 

“Do cunts and bitches deserve good things, Emily?” he prompted.

 

“No,” she said, quietly.

 

“What do cunts and bitches deserve?”

 

Her answer was immediate.  “Punishment.”

 

“Do you need punishment, Emily?”

 

She was quiet.

 

“You’ve agreed that you’re a cunt and a bitch, Emily,” said Jim.  “Is that right?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“Say it for me,” said Jim.

 

“I’m a cunt and a bitch,” said Emily.

 

“You’ve been pretending that you’re not a cunt, haven’t you, Emily?”

 

“Yes,” said Emily.

 

“But it’s wrong to pretend,” said Jim.  “You should always be aware that you’re a cunt.”

 

“Yes,” said Emily.

 

“To help you stop pretending, you’re going to loop that thought in your brain, Emily,” said Jim.  “Those words.  ‘I’m a cunt, and I deserve punishment.’  They’re going to be always running through the back of your mind.  Can you do that for me, Emily?”

 

“Yes,” said Emily – but slowly, unhappily.

 

“Say the words, Emily.”

 

“I’m a cunt, and I deserve punishment,” said Emily.

 

“You’re happy to have those words running through your brain, because now you’re not hiding it,” said Jim.

 

Her frown vanished. 

 

“Yes,” she said.  “I don’t like hiding.”

 

“You’re a cunt,” he told her.

 

“I’m a cunt and I deserve punishment,” she agreed.

 

“Do you want to be punished, Emily?” he asked.

 

She made a mewling noise of distress – and then said, quietly, “Yes.  I’m a cunt and I deserve punishment.”

 

“I’m going to give you some suggestions, Emily,” said Jim.  “To help you punish yourself.  But they’re things that you wouldn’t want to do if you weren’t in a trance.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” she said.  “I would feel differently if I were awake.”

 

“That’s right,” said Jim.  “If you were awake and you knew about these suggestions, you’d reject them, because you’re a cunt and a bitch.”

 

“That’s right,” said Emily.  “I’m a cunt and a bitch when I’m awake.”

 

“But you don’t want to reject them, do you, Emily?” he asked.  “You want to be punished.”

 

“I want to be punished,” agreed Emily.

 

“So we’re going to play a little game, like hide and seek,” said Jim.  “Your subconscious mind – the part of you I’m talking to right now – is going to remember and act on these suggestions.  But your conscious mind – which is a cunt and a bitch – isn’t going to be able to find them.  It’s not going to know about them, even when you’re acting on them.  Do you understand that, Emily?”

 

“Yes,” she said.  “Hide and seek.  Emily will know when she’s a good girl, but not know when she’s a cunt.”

 

Jim hadn’t introduced the words “good girl”, and they took him by surprise.

 

“Do you like being a good girl, Emily?” he asked.

 

She almost writhed with pleasure.  “Yes,” she said.  “But I’m not allowed.”

 

“Why aren’t you allowed to be a good girl?” he asked.

 

“Because good girls aren’t tough enough to succeed in business,” she said.  “Good girls do what they’re told.  Good girls just want to please men.”

 

“You want to be a good girl, don’t you, Emily?” he said.

 

She writhed again. “Yes….” she moaned.

 

“I’m giving you permission to be a good girl, Emily,” he said.  “As long as you hide it from the Emily who’s a cunt.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” she said.  “Good Girl Emily.  I’ll hide it from Emily the Cunt.”

 

“Emily the Cunt would hate you being a good girl, wouldn’t she?” asked Jim.

 

“Yes,” said Emily immediately.

 

“So that’s a good way to punish her, isn’t it?  By being a good girl?”

 

“Yes,” said Emily again.

 

“And being a good girl feels *so good*,” said Jim.  “It feels better than anything.  It feels better than being respected.  It feels better than having your opinions matter.  It feels better than having control.  Doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” moaned Emily.

 

“Being a good girl means pleasing men, doesn’t it, Emily?” he said.

 

“Yes,” said Emily.

 

“And what do men want you to do, Emily?” he asked.

 

“Show my tits,” she said immediately.  “Suck their cocks.”  She paused, and then added, “Be stupid.  Be less than them.  Admit that women are cunts…”

 

“Very good,” said Jim.  “And they want to fuck you, too, don’t they?”

 

“Yes,” said Emily.

 

“And Emily the Cunt would probably hate it if I had unprotected sex with you while you’re in a trance, wouldn’t she?”

 

Emily practically purred with lust. 

 

And instead of “yes”, she instead said “please….”

 

“Good girl,” said Jim, unzipping his pants.

 

===

 

The next thing Emily knew, it was the next day, and she was entering the hall where she was to deliver her lecture.

 

And as awareness hit her, a wave of total panic swept over her.  She was naked from the waist up!  Her large tits were in full view!

 

I’m a cunt, she thought to herself.

 

She tried to cover her bosom with her hands, but her hands wouldn’t obey.  She tried to turn around and run back to her hotel room, but her feet wouldn’t turn.  She found herself striding out onto the stage, in front of an audience of several hundred business professionals, with her tits fully exposed.

 

There was murmuring of surprise amongst the audience.  She thought maybe half of those present were men.

 

She opened her mouth to try and explain that something was wrong, to apologise for showing her tits, to request assistance in covering them.

 

Instead she heard herself giggle. 

 

“Hi everyone!” she said in a bimboish voice pitched slightly higher than her normal speaking tone.  “I thought you might like to see my fuckbags today.  I hope you enjoy them!”

 

There was some awkward laughter from the audience.

 

She tried to correct what she had said.  This wasn’t her.  This wasn’t at all.

 

But it is, said part of her mind.  I’m a cunt, and I deserve punishment.

 

“Today,” she heard herself say, “I was supposed to say something about women in business and how good they are.  But those words were super hard and I didn’t have room in my brain for them!  And anyway, no one likes women in business, because they’re cunts and bitches!”

 

Like me, she thought.  I’m a cunt.

 

“I just want to be a good girl,” she said, unable to stop herself.  “So I thought instead I might just show you some photos of me.”

 

She engaged the projector to display images on the large lecture screen.  A photo of pink flesh appeared.

 

“That’s my cunt!” she giggled.  “I’m spreading it open with my fingers so you can see.  You might have mistaken it for my face, because I *am* a cunt, but actually it’s just my fuckhole.”

 

People in the audience were taking photos.  Emily realised that she was never going to be taken seriously ever again.  No one was going to invest in her.  No one was going to respect her.  No one was going to take her opinions seriously.  She was forever after going to be the woman who had shown an audience her tits and her cunt, and talked about how she *was* a cunt.

 

She wanted to cry, but her face seemed intent on smiling enthusiastically.

 

“Here’s a whole body shot of me naked, so you can see it’s me!” said Emily, moving to the next image.  “And you can see I’m rubbing my pussy, because good girls are wet, and I want to be a good girl.”

 

I’m a cunt, thought Emily, and I deserve to be punished.

 

The next photo showed Emily naked, with a cock in her mouth.

 

“Here’s me sucking the cock of a nice man I met in the bar last night,” said Emily.  “He said I was a very good girl, and that felt really good.  His cum tasted so nice!”

 

In the next photo Emily was naked at a computer. 

 

“I’m a cunt and I’m not very smart,” said Emily, “so I can’t be trusted with money.  Here I am giving half of all my assets to the nice man whose cock I sucked.  And then I donated the rest to political organisations that oppose the rights and humanity of women.”

 

She giggled.

 

“I literally gave a million dollars to a group that wants to see women recategorised from humans to animals!” she laughed.

 

Emily felt herself screaming inside her head.  This couldn’t be true!  She couldn’t have done these things!

 

Only she thought maybe she could have.  Because she had always felt so stressed, being expected to be successful.  And the idea of just sucking a cock and giving everything up felt… attractive.

 

I’m a cunt, she thought, and I deserve punishment.

 

The next photo was a naked Emily standing next to a bin.

 

“Here’s my throwing away my birth control,” she said.  “I’m going to go back to the nice man every night and fuck him until he gets me pregnant, because that’s what I deserve!”

 

She giggled again.

 

“Now, if any of *you* want to rape me,” she said, “I’m taking bookings all today and tomorrow.  For three hundred dollars, you can have a half hour with me, and you can cum in any of my holes, and you can be rough as long as you don’t do permanent damage.  All the proceeds will be donated to a charity that funds legal defence for rapists.”

 

I’m a cunt, thought Emily.  I deserve this.

 

And suddenly she felt herself reaching for her pussy.  And she knew she wasn’t wearing panties, and that she was about to lift her skirt and masturbate, in front of all these people, until she orgasmed.

 

And the worst part was, she genuinely didn’t know if this was the part of her that had made her say all those slutty things – or the part of her that was horrified and humiliated by them.

 

It didn’t matter.  Either way, she needed to cum…

 

(END)