Secret Message

Part 9

by All These Roadworks

Tags: #cw:noncon #f/m #humiliation #hypnosis #sub:female #dom:male #pov:bottom #public_nudity

Secret Message, Part 9
Story by All These Roadworks (2021).
Author's Note: This is the final chapter of Secret Message!  If you've enjoyed this story, please show your appreciation and support with a purchase of the e-book Secret Message - A Novella of Hypnotic Entrapment, available from my store for only $3.99 USD!
From the moment Kathy stepped into the main room of the open-plan office, she knew that her career at this particular workplace was over.
No one would ever be able to forget the sight of her, bare-titted, bare-cunted, gagged and handcuffed, with cum trickling from her fuckhole.  These people would never respect her again, even if she did manage to escape enslavement to the spiral.
She watched her co-workers - some of whom she had worked with for years - mentally reclassify her from “person” to “fuckpig”, and blushed, and wished her cunt wasn’t so traitorously wet.
Her father’s voice spoke briefly in her earbuds, in a cold, dismissive tone.  “I don’t have a daughter.  I have a cunt.”  And she flinched, because she knew it was true.
“Kathy!  God!  Get in my office, now!”  The voice of her boss barked out across the room.  Richard Salk was a large man, barrel-chested, bald on top but with a thick beard - a man used to getting his own way and putting up with no nonsense.  He had a wife and children, who Kathy had met - but he’d made no secret of appreciating the sight of a pretty young employee like Kathy.
Kathy squeaked, and ran across the office to Mr Salk’s office.  He shut the door behind her as she entered, gifting her with a blessed level of relative privacy.
“What the fuck is this, Kathy?” he asked her, staring at her exposed body.  “First you send me nude photos, then you turn up to work like this?”
Kathy had a dildo gag in her mouth.  She could say nothing.
“If you wanted to fuck me, Kathy, you only had to ask,” her boss said.  “This is a little extreme, don’t you think?”
Kathy still couldn’t speak.
Mr Salk smiled.  “Still,” he said.  “I like it.”  He reached out and fondled Kathy’s left tit.  It felt good, and she once again moaned involuntarily.
But she realised she had to ask him something.  She needed time off for her breast surgery - and she also needed a chance to go back into the spiral before that happened.
“Mmf,” she said, through her gag.  “Mmmmf mmf.”
Mr Salk laughed.  “What’s that, Kathy?” he asked, in the tone he might use for an intelligent dog.  “Got something to say?”
“Mmmmf!” said Kathy.
“Come over here,” said her boss, pulling her by her nipple towards his desk.  He opened up an empty document on his computer, and pushed her towards the keyboard.  “Why don’t you type what you want to say?”
Her hands were still cuffed.  She looked at him in confusion.
“Well, if you can’t use your hands, use your tits, Kathy,” he said, and laughed.
Her face twisted in humiliation - but men knew best.  She bent forward at the waist, and pressed her breasts against the keyboard.
Of course, she only produced a gibberish mess of letters.  She mashed her tits against the keys again, producing even more.
Meanwhile, her boss was inspecting her cunt, exposed by her position leaning forward.  “Is that cum, Kathy?” he asked.  “What kind of slut are you?”
She couldn’t answer.  She was gagged.  She banged her tits against the keyboard some more.
Mr Salk took a packet of wet wipes from a desk drawer, withdrew a pair of wipes from it, and began to use them to clean her pussy.  Kathy orgasmed almost immediately at the touch of the soft, wet fabric against her cunt.  Her knees went weak and she almost fell.  She pushed her breasts against the keyboard, and let her boss clean the anonymous man’s sperm away.
However, rather than throwing the wet wipes out, he then pressed them into her anus, as though she were a bin.  She could feel the sperm-and-cunt-juice soaked material hanging from her asshole.
Mr Salk looked at the gibberish Kathy had produced on the screen with her tits.  “You never were much of a typist, Kathy,” he sighed.  “Let’s try something else.”
He picked up a pen from the desk, and a bulldog clip.  He used the bulldog clip to attach the pen to Kathy’s left nipple - procuring a muffled squeal through Kathy’s gag - and then did the same with another pen and a clip on Kathy’s right nipple.  He moved her along the desk, until she was in front of a pad of white paper.
“Try writing your message here,” he said.
Kathy whimpered, and leaned forward.  She found she could indeed make marks on the paper with the pens clipped to her tits - but not legible ones.  She couldn’t make a straight line with the arrangement her boss had created - and, in addition, the process of trying to press the pens against the paper or drag them across the surface caused agonising pain in her nipples.  She made muffled noises of pain and degradation.
Mr Salk didn’t care.  As Kathy leaned forward to make her pathetic breast-scribbles, he unzipped his fly, took out his cock, and pushed it into Kathy’s freshly-cleaned cunt.
Kathy could no longer concentrate on anything but the static in her ears and the pleasure of being fucked.  She moaned and bucked against her boss’ cock, her pen-equipped tits leaving meaningless scribbles on the paper.  The spiral told her this was good.  Her father’s voice told her this was all she was good for. Mitch’s voice told her she was a barely adequate fuck, and she should be grateful anyone wanted to rape her.  Her uncle’s voice told her that her whole life had just been training to be a good cocksleeve.
When Mr Salk came inside her, it felt amazing.  She felt him pull out, and then put his hands on her shoulders and push her down to her knees.  Her mouth was still gagged, so he used her hair to clean the cum and juices off his cock.  Then he pulled her back to her feet, took the pen on her left tit into his hand - with it still attached to her breast - and wrote on the paper she had been scribbling on.
Each forceful penstroke tugged painfully on her breast.  She watched him write at the top of the paper, “FORMAL REQUEST TO BE DEMOTED TO OFFICE WHORE”, and at the bottom he wrote her name.  In between was the nonsense scrawl her breasts had created as she was raped.
“Climb up on the desk, squat over the paper, and sign it, Kathy,” Mr Salk said, grinning.  At first Kathy didn’t understand - but then she did.  Blushing, she climbed on the desk as she was bidden, and let Mr Salk’s cum ooze out of her cunt, dripping down onto the paper, creating a sticky stain.
“I’ll have that framed and placed where everyone can see it,” said Mr Salk.  “Unless you have any objections?”
Kathy was gagged, so she couldn’t speak - but she wouldn’t have anyway.  She liked being a sex object.  The spiral told her it was true, so it must be true.  And anyway, men knew best.
But she still had to ask for permission to get her breast surgery.
“Mmmf!” she said again. 
“Still have something to say?” asked Mr Salk.  “Well, you can’t type, and you can’t write with your tits.  We’ll have to think of something else.”
It took him a few minutes to create his “something else”.  The core of the contraption was a thick black permanent marker.  He had created a grip around the handle, near the tip, using sticky tape, and this was attached to elastic bands, which themselves were attached to bulldog clips.
He showed Kathy how it worked as he attached it to her.  The butt of the market went up her pussy, with the tip sticking out.  The bulldog clips went on her labia - which made Kathy scream into her gag.  The elastic would stop the marker either fully vanishing up her pussy, or falling out of it, while giving it a fair amount of flexibility.
“Now go to your desk and write whatever it is you want me to know,” said Mr Salk.
Kathy did as she was told.  Once again the horrified, lustful, disgusted eyes of the office fell upon her as she crossed to her desk.  There was already a pad of paper there, sitting by her computer.  Kathy climbed atop her desk - a difficult task in high heels - and squatted above the paper.  The tip of the marker only just reached the paper.  She began wiggling her groin, trying to draw intelligible shapes.
Each movement made the marker wiggle back and forth into her cunt.  Every attempt to press down on it pushed the butt of the marker in and out of her fuckhole, letting her gently rape herself with the pen - yet not forcefully enough to give her the release of an orgasm.
Everyone was staring at her.  She was a spectacle - a degraded fuckpig on display.  This was her own fault, for falling victim to the spiral.  She deserved it, for cumming again and again from the abuse that had been heaped on her.  She had seduced her own uncle into raping her - and then orgasmed from that rape.  She had fucked an anonymous man on a public bus.  She had hosted a party to enable her own gang-rape.  She had encouraged her nextdoor neighbour to slap her and use her as a cum-toilet.
And as these thoughts went through her mind, she felt herself finally slip down, into the grasp of trance.
The secret message was close.  She could feel it.  Its ancillary meanings drifted past her - through her.
She was a cunt.
Only her cunt mattered.
She was a dumb cunt.
She wasn’t a person.
She was at her best when she was trying to get her cunt raped.
She moaned - and then gasped, suddenly awake again.
She had it.  She had the tenth message.  Not quite any of the things she had thought - but close to all of them.
She didn’t know how long she had been in a trance - maybe only minutes, certainly not more than an hour.  She realised she was orgasming, and thought maybe she had orgasmed several times in the last few minutes.  Everyone was still staring at her.
She looked down at the sheet of paper, and was surprised to find she had actually written something legible with the marker in her cunt.  There were certainly wild, crazy lines - and several sticky pools of slut juice that had dripped from her cunt - but the message was clear.
It read:
And there was a love heart to one side, for added effect.
She felt a sense of relief that she had managed to communicate her message - and then a greater relief when she realised she didn’t have to go get her boob job after all.  She had found the message!  She just needed to…
… enter it in her phone.
Her phone was currently lodged in the front of her shirt, which had been pulled up to reveal her breasts.  Her hands were still cuffed behind her back.  She couldn’t reach the phone, let alone enter the message.
Mr Salk was coming over to inspect her work.  Desperately, she turned and wiggled her bound hands, hoping he might want to help her uncuff them.
Instead, he just looked at the message she had written with her pussy.
“You need to go for a boob job today, Kathy?” he asked.
Kathy nodded - and wiggled her hands again.
“I think that’s a good use of your time, Kathy,” he said.  “See that you’re back at work with your new tits as soon as possible.  Would you like me to call you a cab to your appointment?”
Kathy’s eyes filled with tears.
“Come on back to my office,” said Mr Salk, and Kathy climbed down from her desk and obediently followed him.
Once they were back in the privacy of his office, Kathy’s boss reached out and - to her delight and sudden hope - unbuckled her dildo gag and removed it.
“Where is your appointment, Kathy?” he asked her.
She told him.  “It’s at three pm,” she added.  And then, “Please, you need to undo my handcuffs too, because…”
But she got no further, because he forced her to her knees, and then shoved his cock into her mouth, and Kathy found herself fellating her boss to his second orgasm of the morning.  And as soon as she was done, Mr Salk pushed the dildo gag back into her mouth and re-secured it.  Kathy’s eyes filled with tears as her hope turned to despair.
“I’ll ensure the taxi arrives in time to take you to your appointment, Kathy,” her boss told her.  “In the meantime, I have a meeting to go to.  Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll fuck you again when I get back?”
He left her there, bound and gagged in his office, and shut the door behind him.  She heard a key turn in the lock, and realised that she was completely trapped.
At first she just knelt on the floor, sobbing.  She knew the last secret message, but she couldn’t enter it into the website, and therefore she couldn’t escape her fate.  She would be forced to go to her boob job, still gagged and handcuffed, and be turned into a porn doll forever.
But then an idea came to her.  It wasn’t a great idea, but it was the only one she had.  The tenth secret message had even contained a clue.
The permanent marker was still stuffed in her pussy.  She climbed to her feet, and used her nose to move the mouse on her boss’ computer, begging that he didn’t have a screensaver password.
He didn’t.  The screen came to life.  By moving the mouse and clicking the buttons with her nose, she was able to navigate to the web browser.
Now she needed to type the address of the website.  She tried typing with her nose, but it simply wasn’t precise enough to press a single key without pressing others.  So she climbed up on the desk, and began to carefully type using the marker pen in her pussy.
She knew she was leaving black marks on the keys - she would be in trouble later - but she didn’t care.  She slowly typed out the address of the Secret Message website, and pressed Enter.  The spiral sprang to life in front of her.
Now she typed her user name for the site.  It was getting harder to type - not out of fatigue, but because each keypress fucked the pen in and out of her twat, and more and more she wanted to stop concentrating on accuracy and just bounce herself on the marker, fucking it until she orgasmed.  It took every ounce of self-control to continue.
Outside, she heard her boss’ voice.  He was returning from the meeting already.  Her eyes widened.  She was so close!
She had to force herself to stay calm as she typed out the letters of the tenth and final secret message.  Her boss was approaching.  She could hear him getting nearer.
She typed:
And pressed Enter.
The website flashed.
“Congratulations!” it declared.  “You have won your freedom - if you want it!  All you have to do to be freed from all your hypnotic compulsions is to type the word ‘YES’ in the box below.”
She looked at the box.  She was free.  She *was* free.  She just had to type “yes”.
But when she thought about it, she realised she wasn’t thinking the way she normally did.  Her brain wanted to be free, yes - but what did her cunt want?
Her cunt had had more activity in the last three days than in the rest of her life combined.  Her cunt had been raped, violated, tortured, degraded - and it had cum again, and again, and again.
Her cunt was wet right now.  Her cunt had a marker pen stuffed into it.  Her cunt wanted to cum. 
She realised what was happening.  “Nooo….” she moaned - although her gag just made it come out as “mmmf”.
The girl Kathy had once been would have typed “yes”.  That part of her was still locked inside her mind, screaming for her to just type that one simple word and free her from a lifetime of abuse and degradation.
But that part was no longer in control.  She thought with her cunt.  And she knew what her cunt wanted.
She positioned her groin over the “N” key on the keyboard, and pushed downwards.  And then she pushed downward again, and again - bouncing on the marker pen, fucking it up into her pussy as its clamps tugged painfully on her labia, bringing herself to orgasm as the keyboard typed a long, incoherent message into the box that had offered her her freedom.
And eventually the website flashed, and showed the message, “SEQUENCE COMPLETE.”  And then it closed, and the static in her ears went silent, and there was nothing in her empty head but the lessons she had learned from the messages, and the life that was in store for her as a result.
I am a slut
I need to obey.
Men know best.
I need men to cum in me.
I am an empty head and a wet cunt.
If men don’t want to fuck me, I’m worthless.
Be vulnerable.
Be wet, always.
I like being a sex object.
I think with my cunt.

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