Sarah Rose still had a strong will, despite everything.  

 

And although Lachlan had put the idea in her brain that she needed to make up fake sexual harassment complaints against the feminists in her department, Sarah resisted acting on it for most of a week.

 

Lachlan knew this because he came to her each morning and asked her.

 

“Come now, Kitten,” he said, “surely you’ve taken your revenge on those bitches who feel a woman should have rights and dignity.  Be honest - you know that lying would be against the Code of Conduct.”

 

And Sarah told him that she had not, in fact, done any such thing.

 

Finally, exasperated, on Friday he asked her how she was resisting the urge.

 

She broke into tears.  “I don’t want to give in to you,” she said.  “I don’t want to surrender more to you.  I’m trying so hard.”

 

“But surely it makes you feel terrible to let these bitches get away with their unethical behaviour of standing up for women’s rights?” Lachlan asked.  “Don’t you feel *guilty*?”

 

He could see her hatred of him in her eyes.  He had done this to her.  He had made her feel this way.  She knew that her feelings about these women weren’t real, weren’t natural - but still she had them.

 

But there was something greater than her hatred of him.  Every part of her betrayed it.  More than she hated him, she hated *herself*.  For not ruining these women’s lives.

 

“Of course I feel guilty,” she said.  “I feel terrible.  But… I won’t give in to you.”

 

“How do you manage that guilt?” he asked her.

 

She was silent for a moment, looking away.  Then, compelled to be honest, she muttered, “I hurt myself.”

 

Lachlan was initially alarmed.  He didn’t want to damage her mental health in that way.  “How?” he demanded.

 

“I wear the pussy clamp…” she said.  “Or… I spank my cunt.  Or I wear the nipple weights and do jumping jacks, like you made me do before.”

 

Lachlan relaxed.  He was completely fine with her hurting herself *that* way.  “Good Kitten,” he muttered.  “Now, how are you doing on that party I got you to arrange?”

 

“It’s this weekend,” she replied.  “Saturday.  All my closest friends will be there.”

 

She hated this too.  She had surrendered control of her “friends” to him, and thus far he hadn’t done anything but tell her to arrange this party, but she knew she wouldn’t like whatever he did with this new control.

 

“Good Kitten,” he said again.  

 

===

 

He visited her again in the evening, when most of the staff had already gone home for the weekend.  He had been putting something off - but now it was time to take care of it.

 

He closed her office door and lowered the blinds.

 

“What do you want, sir?” asked Sarah sullenly.

 

He sat on her desk.  “Tell me, Kitten,” he said, “have you ever been raped?”

 

“Other than by you, you mean?” she asked.  It was an insolent thing to say, and Lachlan could tell Sarah realised that as soon as she said it by her sudden look of fear.  In another circumstance he might have punished her, but he was about to abuse Sarah enough already.

 

“Oh, come now, Kitten,” he said.  “I’ve never had my cock in your cunt.  It’s not like I’ve *truly* raped you.  But yes, other than by me, and including blowjobs.  Have you ever been raped?”

 

“No,” she said, quietly.

 

“And how do you feel about that, Kitten?” he asked.

 

She was silent for so long that for a moment he thought she hadn’t heard him.

 

But then she began to cry.

 

“I feel awful,” she sobbed.  “I feel… so guilty.”

 

“Why is that?” he asked her.

 

“Because I deserve it,” she said.  “I deserve to be raped.  Because I’m a woman.  Because of my… my oversized fuckbags.  Because I’m a traitor to my gender.  Because I’m so *stupid*, and I keep doing things wrong, and having to surrender things to you.  Because I have these big whorish tits, and…”

 

Lachlan smiled.  He had never explicitly told Sarah to believe she deserved to be raped.  She had reached this conclusion all by herself, on the basis of everything else that had happened to her.

 

Lachlan took his hand out of his pocket, revealing that he was holding a ball gag.

 

“Put this on, Kitten,” he told her, handing it out to her.

 

She looked at it nervously, tears running down her face.  Then she took it from his hand and obediently buckled it on, the ball in her mouth, the strap running behind her head, buckled in place.

 

He loved how submissively she did it, not asking why, not fighting, clearly knowing that this was going no place that she wanted and yet knowing that she had no option but to obey.

 

“I have some good news for you, Kitten,” he told her.  He watched her face.  She knew that the news would not actually be good, and yet there was still the flicker of hope.

 

He laughed.  “Starting very soon, you’re going to be raped.  Not just once, but many times, and regularly.  Won’t that be nice?”

 

Her eyes widened, and the tears started flowing more freely.

 

“And I know that I’ve avoided using your cunt so far,” he told her, “but I’m afraid I can’t resist the temptation of being the first to rape it.  Which means it’s time for that to happen now.”

 

And before she could react, he stepped forward and slapped her across the face.  She made a muffled squeal into her gag, but he was already grabbing her blouse, and ripping it.  The fabric tore away from her chest, revealing a bra with the spiked inserts he had given her.  

 

He took a moment to squeeze each tit hard, driving the plastic spikes into her titflesh and making her squeal again, before ripping the bra away too, and then her skirt.

 

She was wearing no panties - just the pussy clamp, squeezing her pussy mound painfully shut.  He reached down and removed that, too, and her squeal now was louder, because the clamp hurt more coming off than it had done going on.

 

She was struggling now, trying to back away, trying to bat away his hands, so he slapped her across the face again, and then shoved her.  She hit the office wall with a thump, and then lost her balance, sliding down to the floor into a sitting position.  He reached down and grabbed her ankles and dragged her across the carpet to the space directly in front of her desk.

 

Then he undid his belt and his pants, extracted his cock, and knelt between her legs.

 

“Honestly it would normally feel better to bend you over your desk and rape you from behind,” he told her.  “Missionary is such an unimaginative position.  But I want to look you in the eyes as I rape you, Kitten.”

 

And he leaned down, and slid his cock into her cunt.

 

To his delight it was wet.  He loved how confused her sexual responses had become under his constant humiliation and abuse.  

 

“You feel that?” he told her.  “I want you to always remember that you were wet for your first rapist’s cock, Kitten.”

 

She made a sound of distress and humiliation, and turned her head away from him.

 

He eased himself deeper into her soft, wet fuckhole.

 

“Are you on the pill, Kitten?” he asked her.

 

She nodded.

 

“That’s good,” he told her.  “But the pill isn’t 100% effective, right?”  He laughed, and then added, “And I think it’s time we changed your ethics.  I think you don’t believe in abortion.  I think if you get pregnant, you’ll feel obliged to keep the baby.”

 

Her eyes widened, as he began to thrust into her cunt.  He placed his hands on her tits, gripping them hard.

 

“And more than that,” he told her.  “You believe that single mothers and working mothers are unethical.  If you get pregnant, you should marry the father, and quit your job to be a homemaker and a breeder.”

 

That drove her wild.  She began to struggle then - struggling wildly.  He had to take his hands off her tits and pin her arms down to stop her pushing him off her.

 

He wasn’t at all sure that he wanted Sarah pregnant, or that he wanted to marry her.  They were interesting ideas, but they could also spoil his continued debasement of her if she actually got pregnant from this rape.  But he had absolute control of her ethics - if he actually knocked her up, he could change these ideas back again.  It was enough for him now that they made her hate her rape more, and that they made her desperate and afraid.

 

She should never have given up her ethics to him.  Sarah Rose may have had a strong will, but she wasn’t always clever.

 

He fucked her harder, and faster.  Her pussy felt amazing - and the way she struggled and moaned, terrified that he would impregnate her, made it a hundred times better.  He was glad he had waited so long to take her.  As he plunged his cock into her again and again, it was hard to imagine that any idea or success she had ever had in her life was as significant as the pleasure he was receiving right now from raping her.  Truly, Sarah had been born to be raped.

 

Her tears were so beautiful.  Whenever she stopped wiggling her arms, he would take the opportunity to release her long enough to slap and punch her tits to intensify those tears.  

 

“I bet you want it,” he whispered to her.  “I bet you want a baby inside you, so you can just accept your biological destiny, and be my submissive little housewife.”

 

*That* certainly made her cry harder.  Was she crying because it was false - or because it was true?

 

He thought if he kept fucking her, she might cum.  She only got wetter with each thrust, and her face was flushed and her nipples were hard.  

 

And as much fun as it would be to give her knowledge she had orgasmed from rape, Lachlan wasn’t here for Sarah’s pleasure.  It would be just as good for her to know that she had *wanted* to cum, that she had still been aroused after he was done with her.  

 

And so he allowed himself to reach his climax, and soon he was cumming, spurting his sperm deep into Sarah’s womb.

 

She gave one last final struggle when she felt his cock twitching inside her, but she was helpless to stop his semen gushing into her.

 

“Good Kitten,” he sighed.  “Doesn’t it feel good, to know you might be pregnant now?”

 

The only response was more tears.

 

He lay on top of her for a minute, and then climbed off her.  Her cunt was already leaking cum, so he wiped his hand across her pussy to collect it before it pooled on the carpet, and then wiped it across her large tits, smearing them with his cum.

 

He unbuckled her gag and removed it, and then got another handful of juices from her twat and smeared them across her face. 

 

“Say thank you for the rape, Kitten,” he told her.

 

What she wanted to say was “fuck you”.  In fact, she wanted to scream it.  But that wasn’t appropriate language or behaviour for the workplace.

 

“Thank you for raping me, sir,” she whispered.  She would always remember this moment - that she had thanked her first rapist.

 

“You’re welcome, Kitten,” he told her.  Then he pushed his cock into her mouth.  “Suck it clean,” he instructed.

 

She had a talented mouth, and Lachlan briefly contemplated letting her suck him until he was hard again, and then having another turn with her pussy.  But he dismissed the idea.  Once was enough for now.

 

Instead he focused on scooping up the sex juices that dripped from her fuckhole and smearing them over her body as she sucked.

 

When her pussy had largely done leaking, he pulled his cock out of Sarah’s mouth.

 

“Sir,” she whispered, “when is this going to end?”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“The Securo-System,” she said.  “The mind control.  Your control over me.  When will it end?”

 

The question took him by surprise.  It was cute that she thought it would ever end.  He had had no intention of such a thing when he began.

 

But he also realised it would be a mistake to tell her that.  She needed hope.  It would keep the spark of rebellion alive in her - and preserve his enjoyment in breaking her.  And who knew?  Maybe he would get bored of her and want to release her some day.

 

And so he said, “Three months.”

 

“Three months from now?” she asked.

 

“No,” he told her.  “Three months without breaking the Code of Conduct.  If you can do three consecutive months, I’ll let you go.  After all, you’ll have learned your lesson.”  He laughed.  “Oh, I’ll leave some legacy beliefs, of course.  Such as that it would be unethical to ever talk about what I did to you, or cause me to suffer consequences.  Just for safety.  But fundamentally, you’ll be free.  You just have to go three months without being a slut or a bitch or a criminal.”

 

And he could see that hope blooming in her eyes.  Three months wasn’t that long.  She could defy him for that long, surely.

 

“But in the meantime, Kitten,” he told her, “I think you should drive to a public park and masturbate while thinking about your rape, and the possibility of being pregnant, until you orgasm, don’t you?  And you’re not going to put on any clothes or wash my cum off your body until you do.”

 

“That’s not…” she said.  “I mean, you haven’t made me - or changed my ethics…”  

 

She shut her mouth, suddenly, realising that he may have simply forgotten to do that, and not wanting to remind him.

 

He laughed.  “No,” he said.  “You’re going to do that just because I’m asking you to.  And tomorrow at the party I’m going to ask you whether you did, and you’ll have to answer honestly.  And you like making me happy, don’t you, Kitten?  That’s why you’ll do it - because you like making me happy.”

 

They both understood the hidden implication.  He hadn’t specified a punishment for non-compliance - but that just made the idea of what he might do if she didn’t obey that much scarier.  She would obey - because she was scared of what he would do if she didn’t.

 

But the fact he hadn’t specified a punishment meant that she would never know.  Had she actually been required to fulfil the humiliating instructions?  Would anything have happened if she didn’t?  Or had she done it, unnecessarily, entirely to please her rapist?

 

Every woman should have a memorable first rape experience, Lachlan thought.  And this would be the final element that would ensure Sarah never forgot hers.

 

And, more importantly, the element that it would help it remain memorable, even after all the further rapes she was soon going to experience.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)