Wyatt raped Peyton.  But first he made her beg.

 

It was the first thing he said to her when he stepped through the door of her apartment.  Peyton was naked, and her face was flushed, and her pussy was red and sore from where she had been slapping it.

 

“Beg me to rape you,” he said.

 

Peyton didn’t understand.  “What?” she asked.

 

“Beg me to rape you,” he said.  “I want to hear you beg to be slapped and violated.”

 

“Beg… to be slapped?” she asked.  “No.  I thought you would just - because I left you with blue balls - maybe a handjob…”

 

Wyatt took out his phone and showed her a social media page.

 

“Is this your father?” he asked her.

 

“Yes,” she said.  “That’s his account.”

 

Then Wyatt pulled up a video.

 

“Is this you shoving a wine bottle up your cunt in public?” he asked her.

 

Her eyes widened.  “You know it is…” she whimpered.

 

“Shall I send it to your father?” Wyatt asked.

 

“No!” she squeaked.  “Please!  No!”

 

“Then beg me to rape you,” he told her.

 

She blushed.  “Please… sir,... can you rape me?”

 

“Keep going,” he told her.  “Be convincing.”

 

“Can you at least use a condom?” she asked.

 

“Do the sluts in the porn you watch use condoms?” he replied.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Then keep begging,” he told her.

 

“I need you to… rape me,” she whimpered.  “I’m sorry I’m such a cocktease.  You can… use me.  I want you to use me.  I want you to rape me…”

 

That was enough for Wyatt.  He put a hand on her throat and used it to push her back towards the couch, and down.  Then he was on top of her naked body, with his cock out, and he was pushing her legs apart, and forcing his dick into her sore, wet pussy.

 

She started to cry, and that just made it hotter.  He slapped her, as he had promised, and then began to rape her properly.

 

She hated this, he knew.  She had been a feminist once.  She had never expressed any like or desire for Wyatt.  He was making no effort to give her pleasure, and her pussy was already sore, and he was slapping her across the face as he fucked her.  It was traumatic for her.

 

And yet, at the same time, she had been watching rape porn daily for a week, with a hypnotic kicker, and she had been masturbating without allowing herself to cum, and then further stimulating her pussy when she left the house using the vibrator.  She had been teaching herself to become aroused by anything sexual, whether she liked it or not.

 

And all of that preparation paid off when, despite her tears, and despite her pain, he felt her start to orgasm against his cock.

 

He laughed out loud at the pathetic noise she made as her pussy started to spasm around his dick, and slapped her again.  “You’re a slut after all,” he told her.  “A slut for rape.”

 

“Please,” she sobbed through her tears.  “Please don’t cum inside me.  I’m on birth control, but… it’s not 100% effective, and I really don’t want to get pregnant…”

 

“You say that, but I think your body wants to be impregnated,” he told her.  “Why else would it cum from rape?”

 

“No,” she wailed.  “Please, no!  Don’t cum inside me…”

 

And that was all it took to push Wyatt over the edge.  He shoved his cock deep inside her and orgasmed, deliberately spurting all of his cum as far up into her womb as he could.  And he felt her orgasm again when she realised what was happening.

 

Peyton looked so damned pretty when she was crying, Wyatt thought.  It was a shame that she was ever happy.

 

He pulled out of her, got up, and wiped his cock clean on her face before putting it away. Then he took a photo of her - naked, crying, with his cum leaking from her pussy.

 

He would have it blown up into a photo, accompanied by the text, “I ORGASM FROM RAPE”, and he would have her hang it in her bedroom next to the other motivational poster so she would see it and be reminded of it each morning and night.

 

“This was necessary,” he told her.  “You watch girls being violently fucked every day and yet you didn’t really know what that felt like until now.  This will help you.  It’s good for your sexuality.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said.

 

“Thank me,” he told her.

 

“Thank you for raping me, sir,” she sniffled.

 

“Your keyword for tomorrow’s porn adventure is ‘impregnation’,” he told her.  “Have fun.”

 

===

 

Wyatt almost regretted allowing Peyton to cum.  The release wasn’t good for her progress.  She was more pliable when she was constantly horny.  But it luckily didn’t take her long to get back to that place of frustrated arousal.

 

For the next three days he listened to Peyton’s reports without interfering much.  She was absolutely terrified that she might be pregnant from her rape, so for all three days he made her search for pregnancy porn.  First he started her with “impregnation”, so that she could watch men cumming in the pussies of fertile women and remember her own rape.  The next day he gave her “breeding” as her starting word, which naturally eventually led her to misogynistic porn that taught her that her body belonged to men and that she didn’t deserve to control her own womb.  And finally he started her with “burdening”, to make her masturbate to the idea that being pregnant would ruin her life and that men would be entertained by that.

 

He reminded her that, when she was away from her computer, taking her college courses, that she should make her vibrator buzz whenever she thought about her rape, or the possibility of being pregnant, or whenever she saw a pregnant woman, or an ad for baby products.

 

She started each report by telling him that she felt like a slut, and he no longer contradicted her.  Instead he agreed, and told her that she *was* a slut, because she had orgasmed from rape.  Normal girls didn’t do that.  Only porn-watching perverts like her.  Sluts who got off from watching crying girls getting raped.

 

He subtly started to refer to her other rules - the ideas that had come from his special, hypnotic video - as punishments.  He stopped talking about them being healthy for her, but rather as things she deserved, for being a slut.

 

Each day she tried to experience something she’d seen in porn, and filmed it for him.  On the first day after her rape she went to the park and fucked her pussy with a cucumber, and then ate it.  

 

On the second, she went to a sex shop, and bought an entire box of new toys.  Then she went into an alleyway several streets away and took out one of her toys - a foot-long rubbery dildo - and tried to deep-throat it, until she was gagging and choking.  She pulled it out and let herself breathe a little, and then went back to practicing until she could take almost the entire foot down her throat.

 

On the third, she went down to the park, lubricated her anus, and worked a small butt-plug into it.  She went home with it inside her and didn’t take it out until bedtime.

 

Each of these experiments generated an erotic video that she sent to Wyatt, which Wyatt kept to deepen his future control over her.

 

And as for Wyatt’s hypnotic video, it continued to do its work.  

 

On the first day after her rape Peyton straight-up refused to discuss the idea it had given her.  She just shook her head.  Wyatt was fascinated to see her resisting it.  The video drew different ideas each session from an online database, depending on responses she provided to it while she was hypnotised, and he thought he knew what it might be suggesting to her that she hated so much.

 

It was okay.  When she resisted, the hypnosis would simply double down on that topic on the next occasion.

 

And sure enough, the next day, she confessed in tears to Wyatt that she deserved to be punished.

 

“For what?” he asked her.

 

“For being a slut,” she sobbed.  “For… cumming from being raped.”

 

“And how do you deserve to be punished?” he asked.

 

“I have to do something I really hate,” she said.  “Something that scares me.  It’s what I deserve.”

 

“And what is that, Peyton?” he asked her.

 

“I have to…”  - she stopped to sniffle - “I have to throw away my birth control medication.”

 

“That’s right,” said Wyatt.  “That’s what you deserve.  Good girl.”

 

And he watched on video as she flushed her contraception down the toilet.

 

On the third day she reported on her new idea with a very particular phrase:

 

“My brain is empty and waiting for you to fuck it, sir.”

 

She said it with a glazed look in her eyes, and Wyatt knew that the second phase of her programming had finally been fully installed by his video.  After today, he would upgrade her to a new hypnotic video, with new programming.

 

“What’s your problem, Peyton?” he asked her.

 

Her eyes unglazed, and immediately filled with tears.

 

“I’m a stupid slut!” she wailed.  “I’m failing college.  I spend so many hours a day masturbating to porn, and then when I go to class my brain is all foggy because I’m aroused!”

 

“Don’t worry, Peyton,” said Wyatt.  “We can fix this.  But I’m going to have to come around and visit you, okay?”

 

Peyton hesitated.  The last time Wyatt had visited, he had raped her.

 

But she had *deserved* that rape.  And she needed his help.

 

“Yes, sir,” she whispered - and they both knew that, in saying that, she was tacitly consenting to rape.

 

===

 

Peyton must have thought she was going to be raped as soon as Wyatt walked in, but instead he walked to her computer, sat down, spread his legs, and took out his cock.

 

“Kneel,” he said to Peyton, pointing at the space under the desk.  She scurried to obey.

 

“Suck,” he told her, and she did, grateful to be giving him a blowjob rather than being raped.

 

“I’m going to tell you three things you’re going to do to fix your college problem,” he said, “and you’re going to indicate yes or no by wiggling your face on my cock.  Do you understand?”

 

She did her best to nod with a mouthful of dick.

 

“Good girl,” he said.  “The first aspect of your problem is that you’re masturbating here at home instead of going to school.  You need to fix that.  From now on you’re going to watch all your porn away from home, while you’re doing other things.  You will watch it on the bus, using your phone, or in your lectures, or on the toilet, or while eating lunch.  Try not to get caught, but it *is* essential that you watch all your porn, including your special bonus video.  Either play the sound through your phone speakers, or have headphones on so that you can hear it.”

 

She quivered between his legs, scared of what he was telling her to do.  But she would do it.  The code-phrase she had recited today told him she was ready for this.

 

“If you’re in a place where people would see you masturbating,” he told her, “you can use your vibrator to buzz your pussy while you watch.  But every ten minutes you still have to wipe your fingers along your pussy, and then lick them clean, understand?”

 

She nodded on his dick.

 

“And if you *can* masturbate, you should,” he said.  “Even if you might get caught.  As long as there’s a *reasonable* chance of getting away with it.”

 

She nodded again.

 

“Good girl,” he said.  He grabbed her hair and pushed her a little further down on his dick, letting her struggle for a moment as his cock touched the back of her throat and she felt a gag reflex coming on.  He didn’t let her pull back until she had managed to overcome the gag reflex.

 

“Second,” he said, “I’ll do some of your assignments for you.  I’ll come over and write them while you suck my cock.”

 

If Peyton had been a little less hypnotised, she might have asked how Wyatt would know enough about her subjects to be able to complete her assignments.  But she didn’t.  And in fact, when she saw the assignments he actually wrote for her, her eyes would glaze over, and she would see nothing wrong with them at all.  Which was good, because Wyatt didn’t intend to make any effort to make her assignments acceptable.  They would be single pages that said things like, “Peyton is such a stupid little bimbo, would you like to fuck me?”, decorated with love hearts and other such silliness.  Sometimes he would include images or footage of Peyton masturbating.

 

“And third,” he said, “you need to dress sexier for your classes.  Professors go easier on pretty girls.  So from now on I want you to only go to college if you’re wearing clothes that make people want to fuck you.  Don’t worry about being respected - just make sure you look like a silly little rapedoll.  Do you understand, Peyton?”

 

She nodded her head on his dick again.

 

As far as Wyatt was concerned, there were two things that could come of this.  One was that Peyton would fail out of college, or even be expelled.  The other is that she might scrape by as a fuckdoll for her teachers, trading As for blowjobs and sex.  Wyatt would personally prefer the first option - the future that he had in mind for Peyton would not require her to be educated - but the second could be entertaining, for a while.

 

As he pictured Peyton dressed like a whore, desperately sucking her professor’s cock in the knowledge that she was too stupid to pass her courses any other way, he felt his orgasm building.

 

He reached out and grabbed Peyton’s hair again, pulling her down until the full length of his dick was jammed into her throat, and as he felt her start to struggle again, he orgasmed, pumping his cum into the silly little hypnotised porn-addict.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)