There wasn’t really any definitive moment that I could recall this whole thing getting started. It genuinely crept up on me, which I have to presume was the deliberate intention of my would-be tormentor. In the beginning, such as I can trace it back, all it manifested itself as was this sudden and incredible drive to work out and get fit, to cook and eat healthily-- and just generally pay so much more attention to my appearance that I was ultimately left feeling somewhat invigorated and confident about myself in ways that I never really had before. I was attractive before all of this, to be perfectly frank, but months of daily cardio and fitness sessions were truly rounding out my features and general physique in ways I had never known could be possible. I was starting to look as good as any Instagram poster-girl, and in all honesty it didn’t feel like a particularly bad thing despite leaving me exhausted and puzzled about where all this motivation was seemingly coming from.

And if that was the worst of their manipulations, that could’ve been forgiven-- on par with professional hypnotists allegedly helping addicts to quit smoking or deal with a phobia: productive uses of mental adjustment that we can excuse due to the outcome being a desirable goal. But on top of this, just as I was starting to truly admire this personnel progress I’d achieved-- seemingly all through my own strength of will-- I then started to watch an unreasonable amount of pornography. I had never sat myself down to watch such material, but suddenly I had an urge to watch porn in whatever free moments I could find. Soft-core, hard-core, fetishes and kinks of all kinds, I seemed to relish any opportunity to get my next fix. I was now a sincerely very hot young lady, and could have had my pick of men to entertain myself more actively, but no-- this desire to watch rather than partake overruled any sensible thoughts of that manner.

And I really should note here that just because I was regularly watching pornography, that most definitely didn’t mean that I was playing with myself. This was what ultimately tipped me off that something wasn’t quite right. I would spend long hours just watching as women got fucked over and over in every imaginable position, deep-throated cock after cock and hungrily took spunk all over themselves-- and never once would my hand find the courage to wander down between my legs. I would certainly get excited and thrust my hips in mock anticipation, but each and every time I would end such a session in a fog of hormone-induced sexual lust, my thoughts filled with lingering erotic imagery and my cunt throbbing, damp and completely untouched beneath whatever panties I was wearing throughout.

It honestly took weeks of this before I wholly realised I was completely incapable of touching myself, no matter how hard I tried to make it happen. Neither hand would comply. It was the most unnerving feeling ever to feel powerless over your own limbs. I would try and explain it away as feeling ashamed to pleasure myself, but that just wasn’t it at all-- it wasn’t like I had never played with my cunt before, after all. But months of this went by, alongside the arduous gym schedule-- and despite feeling sexier than I had ever felt in my life, enjoying admiring glances from the opposite sex wherever I went, I still maintained this torturous cycle of explicit viewing-- making myself aroused and thoroughly wet, but never once touching it. Clearly somewhat frustrated with myself, I occasionally ordered sex toys online, somehow thinking that might solve whatever problem I seemed to be having, but each of them remained primed and ready to go on my bedside cabinet, but I couldn’t use them any more than I could my own fingers.

And I really couldn’t get fucked either. I would regularly push myself to make advances or even to flirt in the hopes of them making the advances for me, but every time I would sabotage or duck out of such a situation before it could go any further. And so the routine pornography watching continued, apparently crammed into any free moment I could find, and the greater my cravings for sexual relief became. At some point I had refreshed my wardrobe almost completely, replacing all my previous clothes with attire that better presented my amazing figure, and switching to much sexier underwear: lacy and delicate, push-up bras and tiny thongs. My skirts were suddenly all very short and my heels were rapidly more perilous. Crafting my hair each day was quite the process-- even the hefty ponytail I wore for the gym was a work of art that took up half an hour beforehand.

Probably around five months from whatever spark first encouraged me to get so massively into fitness I started to actively feel like I wasn’t really in control any more. And that’s not an easy admission for anyone to make: like, what does that even mean? But I was super hot, and super horny all of the time, and I apparently couldn’t do a damn thing about it, which was so clearly all kinds of messed up. And I couldn’t break the cycle: couldn’t tone down the gym-going, careful diet-planning nor the endless hours of hairstyling and skincare, and most definitely couldn’t free myself from the porn addiction that was leaving my yearning hole almost permanently wet and ready for a good pounding. And in retrospect I have to presume that that feeling of helplessness was some kind of trigger or something, because that’s pretty much exactly when the butt-plug arrived.

The small nondescript box was delivered to my house one morning, completely unexpected and out of the blue, and represented the first time that I was exposed to a direct instruction that I seemingly could do nothing but comply with. Upon opening the box I found only a generously-sized Barbie-pink plug and a small note that simply stated ‘Put this in your ass, Rebecca, and leave it there at all times except for short bathroom breaks.’ As soon as I’d finished reading that, and despite being somewhat shocked to even have received such a thing from a complete stranger, I hurriedly reached for the inches-long plug and reached around with both hands to my bottom and pressed the tip against my asshole. This was the closest my hands had been to my cunt in forever, and there was clearly something strangely exciting about being so directed against my will, that I could feel myself buzzing in arousal as I forced this rubbery object inside. It took more than a few pushes, and the note hadn’t been kind enough to state ‘put this in your ass with lube, Rebecca,’ but it did finally nudge itself forward and sit flush with the rest of my bottom, the external base of the plug a good few inches in diameter. My anus clutched the thinnest part of the plug tightly, and I could definitely feel the bulk of it inside me. It was the closest I had come to being fucked in such a long time.

And then as if this was all just a completely normal thing to have happen, I proceeded to reposition my thong and flattened down the silky chemise I was wearing, before climbing back into bed to watch some extremely filthy porn. The new addition to my ass was immediately distracting and seemed to leave my cunt throbbing like never before as the girl on-screen was dragged around on a leash and passed between a group of men with huge members. I was getting very wet and messy down there, but I was still completely unable to do anything about it. And that was even before the butt-plug started to vibrate. The constant pulse suddenly reverberated throughout my bottom, noiseless but powerful, the closest thing to pleasure I had experienced in forever. My hips thrust against the mattress pitifully, yearning for satisfaction in this sordid hands-free and cock-free fucking experience. I had now watched enough porn to know that girls could orgasm from anal stimulation alone if they were driven to it, and my mind was clearly latching onto that idea as a welcome source of relief, thrusting my ass against the bed to heighten the pleasure. I didn’t know if I could get to where I wanted to be, but my rational brain was no longer in charge. I needed to cum.

It was probably a good while before I started to feel something akin to an orgasm building between my legs. My face was contorted in sexual need and I was frantically ramming myself against the bed, legs wide open and my cunt aching to be rubbed and fingered and have just about anything shoved into it. The girl on screen was being penetrated in every hole and clearly loving it. I gritted my teeth as this unusual feeling started to emerge, my thighs starting to shake, and I let out a whimper as the anal toy vibed me all the way to what I hoped would be an orgasm. And then the vibration stopped. The provided friction all but gone, my continued humping no longer seemed to be enough to maintain the ascent to orgasm and instead left me thoroughly exhausted and sexually frustrated. I watched as the girl climaxed from all of the cocks inside her, and other men started to unload themselves over her face. I had never been so horny in my life. I was so lost in that moment that I hadn’t even begun to question how the plug was activating and deactivating-- seemingly all by itself.

And that was my life for the next however long-- it got harder to keep track of time since I spent so much of each day feeling horny beyond belief. The plug stayed in, no matter where I went. I exercised with it inside, I cooked it with inside and I did my best to do my job whilst it sat there between my ass cheeks. And of course I slept with it tucked inside. It pushed me to a level of arousal way beyond my usual levels. Watching porn was pure torment now, with the vibrations starting and stopping in apparent sync with my horniness: not horny enough and it would kick in to correct that; getting close to the ever elusive anal orgasm and it would quickly stop dead. But the vibe would also kick in randomly, whenever I was out shopping or in the gym. I was thankful it was silent, but it would leave me with very damp panties by the time it was done, and walking around with a sizeable plug stuffed in your ass and wet knickers pressed against your crotch is hardly a fun experience to have to endure.

And just in case I was able to adapt to all of this and somehow manage to have a normal life around all of the imposed behaviours, it also turned out that this wasn’t to be the last present that I would receive. Barely a few weeks after the arrival of the first butt-plug, another arrived in a similar box, and with a similar instruction, ‘put this in your ass instead, Rebecca.’ And of course it was a larger plug, with a heftier diameter and deeper protrusion, and of course I instantly removed the current plug to begin working this new one inside as directed. Weeks later, a third plug arrived. Bigger yet again. Walking become a little uncomfortable for a while as I adjusted to being so filled all of the time. Orgasms continued to elude me no matter how much I committed to my rampant porn-fuelled grinding sessions on the plug. Whatever was determining the vibration setting of the plug had me completely at their mercy. I had been teasing and denying myself for so long now that I had very much forgotten what an orgasm felt like. I couldn’t even really remember what it felt like to be fucked either. And yet still I looked unfathomably hot everywhere that I went, secretly plugged and soaking wet beneath whatever ensemble of flimsy panties and tiny little skirt that I was wearing, a consistently shameful public humiliation that was just about concealable, perched perilously on the ‘exciting’ end of the spectrum of indecency. But things rarely remained the same for long.

At some point around the time of the first of the butt-plug deliveries I had started to take mirror snaps and selfies of myself, fully clothed and dolled-up, typically whenever I slipped into a new outfit for the day or whilst out and about. It crept up on me that I had been starting to take snaps in more racy poses, and in less and less clothing, more often clad only in underwear or lingerie, taken first thing in the morning or last thing before bedtime. Of course I looked stunning in every shot, and it was almost excusable as merely savouring all the hard work I’d done in producing such an amazing figure. But then the snaps became more erotic: bra-less-- showing off my generous breasts in their entirety; then eventually fully nude save for the perpetual plug in my ass. I became fixated on capturing the wetness of my cunt and the tightness of my rear. Before long I was snapping everything from fully-clothed to fully-nude and all the steps in-between, and everything was dutifully uploaded to the cloud. But it took probably a month or more before I truly registered that the phone I used to take these pictures wasn’t actually my own smartphone. I had no idea when I had obtained it, and I was naturally pretty freaked out that I hadn’t even noticed it had been exchanged. But this discovery changed nothing, and I was compelled to continue taking these increasingly intimate photographs of myself, knowing with increasing certainty that someone else must have access to the shared images.

Conveniently coinciding with this revelation, and as if to really drive home these new feelings of being at the mercy of someone’s voyeuristic whims, a few days later I suddenly received yet another small package. Obediently opening it, almost as if I couldn’t have ignored it if I had wanted to, I found two expensive-looking webcams and a note alongside them that stated ‘Ensuring they stay on and unobstructed at all times, place one in your bathroom pointing at your shower, and the other in your bedroom pointing at your bed, Rebecca.’ And I did just that-- maddeningly going to such lengths as to make sure the cameras had the best possible angles in each particular case. Blazing red lights indicated that they were powered and presumably already being watched at the other end. The huge plug in my ass started to vibrate as if on cue, and it was suddenly very clear to me that whoever was sending me these sadistic deliveries was also controlling the vibration of the plug that was stretching out my ass so completely. I pulled out my phone and snapped myself in the bathroom mirror, wearing only a baby-pink baby-doll and matching g-string. I turned around and snapped again whilst the plug was visible between firm butt cheeks, my underwear doing virtually nothing to hide its sizeable presence. Reaching downwards this time, and pulling the g-string to one side, I then captured the wetness of my cunt, aroused by both the vibrations emanating from within my arsehole and from the twisted knowledge that I was about to shower in full view of a video camera that was almost certainly being watched by a complete stranger. Worse than that, it could be recording everything it sees. But the lingerie fell to the floor, and further snaps of my now very-naked body found their way to the cloud, and then I stepped forward into the camera’s line of view and turned on the rainfall shower itself.

The plug did a very good job of distracting me from the new reality of my bathroom no longer being a place of privacy-- ensuring I was as horny and sexually frustrated as ever, perhaps even more so due to the seemingly benign thrill of being observed. I was definitely being watched, probably even by someone jerking their cock as I soaped myself up and ran my hands across my body. Unable to help myself, I was grinding my bottom against the shower wall, aching for more. I looked over at the persistent red light of the webcam. Maybe they would leave the vibration on long enough for me to satisfy myself now that they could witness it themselves. But was I really so willing to demean myself for them just for the chance that might happen? And if not here, was I really going to be able to contain myself once I got into bed later that day, where the second camera sat so patiently waiting for me to writhe and yearn to pleasure myself under the sheets.

So of course the plug got its way, coaxing me to thrust against the shower wall in a mock parody of being fucked from behind. It felt good, almost too good, and I grunted with either the effort or the delight, desperate to stimulate my ass as much as possible. My hands were left to flail around absently, unable to touch myself in any real manner as soon as I surrendered to this latest act of sexual depravity. I was noisier than I probably should’ve been given I knew there was a camera and microphone present, and I started to feel like this was it: I was finally going to climax. Banging my ass cheeks against the wall I could feel myself getting lost in the moment, grinding against the butt plug somewhat furiously in anticipation of what I hoped would come next. And then the vibration was switched off. My immediate disappointment was obvious-- I couldn’t really focus, and I let out an audible whine. It was so frustrating to come so close. As the moment passed and I steadied myself to try and move on, the vibration suddenly returned. I glanced at the camera with eyes clearly filled with lust and equal parts annoyance, but I was too horny to complain at that moment, and instead just resumed the rampant humping against the shower wall, inching myself back to the plateau of ecstasy before it was too late. And of course it was, because the vibe died the instant I felt like orgasm was within reach again. Barely a minute later it resumed its tormenting of my ass. And so I fell into a pattern of deliberate orgasm denial, edging myself over and over in full view of the bathroom camera, losing track of time as I humped and thrust and tried so hard to achieve that ever-elusive hands-free anal orgasm.

And this became the new normal. The plug would always resume soon enough to entice me to edge myself repeatedly in this manner, typically driven on by whatever dirty porn I was watching or was fresh in my mind, reducing me to humiliate myself over and over in front of the cameras, which was instantly so much more demeaning than the prior indecency of walking around with a plug in my ass and eternally sticky panties. I was spending whole hours every day just humping and grinding and edging myself towards an orgasm that was forever denied to me. I was having to shower multiple times each day because my cunt was always such a soaking wet mess, and I was quickly running out of clean panties to wear. I could’ve sworn I had so many more, but suddenly my underwear drawer was severely lacking, and I started to be forced to go without more often than not. But all my skirts were so very short, and my cunt still glistened with my juices regardless, so this was certainly a new low when it came to my seemingly ever-escalating public indecency. To add insult to injury, the plug was almost always buzzing away whenever I was outside. You’d think I would be able to get used to the daily vibrations in my ass, but the moment that my mind even started to think that was possible a new delivery would spontaneously arrive and a larger plug would end up being wedged inside. By this point I was on the fifth butt plug, a five inch deep, bulging monstrosity of a plug with an intense vibration setting. My anus was eternally agape around its sizeable girth, and I could feel the sordid fullness inside my bottom with every movement that I made. It became harder and harder to ignore during any daily activity, and in virtually any interactions with other people I couldn’t help but wonder what they would think if they knew I had a massive throbbing plug in my ass. Real shame started to filter into my world, my cheeks forever flush, absent-minded clumsiness leaving me feeling silly in front of whomever happened to be around to witness. I had to carry around tissues to wipe away the trails of the slick juices coming down my legs from the ever-present wetness above. I thought about masturbating a lot-- or at least what passed for masturbation in this twisted scenario that I found myself trapped within, and would sneak away to watch the most degrading porn I could find whenever possible.

When things felt like it couldn’t really get any more fucked-up than it was already, ‘they’ found a way to make that happen regardless, because that was when I first met my doppelganger-- another girl allegedly called “Rebecca”, who just happened to look almost exactly like me, and who turned up on my doorstep one day as apparently instructed, equally bewildered to see me: a girl who looked almost identical to her, and one that we’d each come to learn shared the same sordid secret.

This new chapter began with a mere knock at the door one evening. I was fresh from the shower and a prolonged session of fruit-less masturbation when I opened it to find her standing there in the rain, our shocked expressions no doubt as mirrored as the rest of our bodies. She wore a tight short-sleeved blouse and mini-skirt combo that I myself often absently-mindedly found myself slipping into. My eyes, however, were instantly drawn down to where she quite obviously had her hand under her skirt, fingers massaging beneath the fabric. It might not have been so evident in passing, but here she was directly in front of me, shamefully rubbing her cunt, her cheeks reddening as she realised that I’d spotted this, eyes refusing to meet mine. But as we’d soon learn, whilst I literally could not touch myself down there no matter how desperately I wanted to, this other Rebecca could barely stop touching her own slit. Whilst I teetered on the edge of orgasm, systematically denied that pleasure over and over, the other Rebecca was expected to give herself orgasm after orgasm until she was drained and sore, an act triggered by the very same vibrations that were delivered by an identical and equally-enormous plug sitting snugly between thoroughly gym-toned butt cheeks.

Without really meeting my gaze, words still eluding us, she managed to hand me a familiar pink box, which I found myself opening as obediently as ever. “Rebecca, meet Rebecca,” the note inside began, “skip the awkward conversation and take each other to bed. Do what lovers do. Whenever you feel the compulsion to talk about your situation, lock lips and make out instead. Naughty Rebecca lives with Sexy Rebecca, and you share everything. Hand this note to Rebecca, unless she has already read it.”

Despite being completely dumbfounded by the intent of this note as I handed it to a near mirror-image of myself, some childish part of my psyche apparently managed to wonder whether I was supposed to be the Naughty Rebecca or the Sexy Rebecca. I suppose my first inclination actually was to feel somewhat naughty as she finished reading the note too and suddenly leant in close and kissed me on the lips-- and I really couldn’t deny that she was unfathomably sexy as she parted my own lips with hers and slipped her tongue inside. She stepped close enough for our bodies to touch in the door-frame, and I could feel her hand continuing to rub herself as we kissed one-another more eagerly, each of us silently acknowledging that it felt very nice-- despite being prompted by yet another instruction forced upon us by some unknown agent. There was something immediately unusual about kissing someone who looked just like yourself, and whose body and underlying curves felt the same as yours as you explored their body with your hands. I had been fucking myself for months prior to her arrival, and some very confused part of my mind seemed to suggest this wasn’t actually much different, only now I could make out with myself too. I knew absolutely nothing about this girl except that she looked just like me, she was very attractive, and I liked kissing her. And something about the way she then led me by the hand to our bedroom was just so damn sexy.

I woke the next day to find myself being held by a still asleep and very naked Rebecca under silky sheets. We had spent hours frolicking beneath those sheets, vibrating butt-plugs resolutely on and mouths locked together. It hadn’t taken us long to establish that my cunt was still completely off limits-- not just to myself, but also to other Rebecca: some latent instruction ensuring that I was to remain orgasm-deprived no matter how much she seemed to be trying to satisfy me. Conversely, I was very much able to touch and excite her, and her aching need to repeatedly orgasm once aroused led her to guide my head down between her legs to effortlessly lick her to an explosive climax, her juices spraying out over my face as she shuddered in orgasm, grinding her crotch against my mouth as the sensations overcame her. I knew she couldn’t help it as she fed me down to her over-stimulated clit again and again, my tongue growing tired from all the licking that was expected of me, my own clitoris throbbing but completely ignored. After an hour of being intermittently smothered in the closeness of her cunt, slick with her ejaculate and after having given her more orgasms than I could even count, I genuinely started to feel resentment that she would so happily use my tongue for pleasure knowing that I was getting nothing in return. Whenever I tried to protest, I instead ended up kissing her intensely despite myself, and then inevitably found myself being guided back down to her crotch to lick her to yet another explosive orgasm.

And if one night of being Sexy Rebecca’s pussy-licking plaything was a de-humanising enough experience, it was worse still that it set a precedent for the days ahead. Our love-making was thunderously one-sided-- there was nothing I could do but oblige as she guided my head down to her cunt, to ‘do what lovers do’ as per instruction. It didn’t matter that I was getting nothing; the terms of our directives were still being upheld, just I was the one doing all the work. But as used as I was increasingly feeling by her wanton actions, I still couldn’t deny that something about her drove me wild with lust. We shared a wardrobe, which even included underwear; we showered together, exercised together and made out lots since we naturally tried to talk to each other all of the time. I couldn’t help myself admiring her body in the sexy outfits we each wore, and as I continued to know nothing at all about this other Rebecca that I was forced to spend almost every waking moment with, it become increasingly difficult to think of her as truly distinct from myself. When she came her face contorted in pleasure just as mine would, and her body convulsed, feet curling up in sheer delight, just as mine would have. When I watched her experience orgasm it was almost as if I was watching myself climax. On occasion a stray thought would surface to question how it was that I was so seemingly intoxicated by this girl despite never registering an attraction to women up until that point. I had so effortlessly settled into the role of lesbian lover that I couldn’t actually tell how much of that was coming from me and how much of it was something I’d been nudged towards.

Throughout all of this, we had also started to share a workplace, since ‘we share everything’ was apparently supposed to be pretty all-encompassing. In practice this meant that we worked on alternating days, with the other free to lounge around the house instead. We looked so alike that clearly nobody could tell the difference, and other Rebecca would return from a days work as casually as if I had gone there myself. It was actually kind of a relief to be away for a while from my usual position between Rebecca’s legs, though she definitely made up for it once work had concluded and we found ourselves unclothed and back in bed, the on-looking camera dutifully recording every moment as Rebecca moaned and convulsed, one slender but surprisingly assertive hand holding my head buried in her crotch throughout.

I had convinced myself that it was utterly inevitable that things wouldn’t stay as they were forever, which perhaps had become something of a coping mechanism amongst this twisted new form of sexual frustration, and of course I was eventually proven right-- which itself turned out to be a very fleeting moment of triumph amongst an overall sea of discontent, because the ramifications of any further modifications had yet to be particularly favourable for me. A pink box arrived one morning, larger than previous ones, and Rebecca was the one to open it first. I watched from the bed, still undressed and somewhat askew after an intense morning of vigorous pussy-licking. She pulled out and started to inspect what looked like a small wooden cricket bat from my perspective, before finding the customary note and reading it as dutifully as I know I would have had to-- and likely would also do momentarily after. I swear I saw a smile form on her lips as she concluded reading, and bounded over to hand the note to me even as she began caressing this new contraption.

“Naughty Rebecca needs to learn to keep her cunt clean and tidy at all times. From now on Sexy Rebecca will randomly, but frequently, inspect her lovers’ vagina throughout the day, and if Naughty is judged to be unduly wet then she will place herself over Rebecca’s lap and be given 50 hard smacks with the provided paddle. Wetness occurs in anticipation of fucking, and Naughty is not being fucked. She should not be wet. Correct this. Begin immediately.”

I was painfully aware that my cunt was absolutely soaking at that moment, and Rebecca didn’t really have to look very closely at all to know that. This was probably the closest she had actually been to my slit since arriving, and that alone had me buzzing in apparent excitement. I had been subject to playful smacks on my bottom in the past, so it wasn’t like I was totally unfamiliar with the notion of spanking, but as I fixed my eyes on the provided paddle, I could see that this thing meant business. And so it turned out that the first thing Sexy actually ever said to me was an admonishing “Over my lap, Naughty’. She really did sound just like me.

As the paddling started, and I swear I just got wetter in response, I realised that we had never actually established which of us was supposed to be Naughty and which was Sexy Rebecca. But it was clear enough now that I was Naughty Rebecca-- and I genuinely did feel like it as I was disciplined simply for having been so aroused and almost perpetually wet these days. 50 smacks left a definite imprint on my bottom, the entire area burning with a visible redness that my tiny skirts were unlikely to adequately cover. It had been a painful experience, and Rebecca had been thorough enough to increase the intensity of the smacks as the counter went up, but I was definitely wetter afterwards than I’d been at the start. My ass was incredibly sore, but I apparently knew that I could do nothing to alleviate the discomfort, nor even reach back and touch the bruised skin found there. My reward for accepting my punishment was apparently to be another half an hour between Rebecca’s legs, thrusting herself against my tongue as my tender bottom burned, the throbbing butt-plug effortlessly driving me to wetness as it buzzed away between newly-sensitive cheeks.

I was spanked a lot that first week. Inspections were far more common than I’d anticipated, and whilst Rebecca and her paddle inflicted its torment to an almost continually sore and throbbing bottom, it wasn’t like I could just switch off the arousal that led to this punishment in the first place. After a week, however, as the tender skin started to turn purple and bruised and sitting down was genuinely uncomfortable-- and the fear of another spanking was foremost in my mind, my pussy really did start to respond in kind. Initially, inspections observed just small traces of wetness after even prolonged pussy-licking and anal-vibing sessions, which still earned me the full harsh spanking treatment regardless. But eventually even that subsided, and then I was rarely wet at all. Some rebellious part of me hated that I’d been forced to conform so visibly-- we were each of us puppets with strings handled by some unknown individual, mere words on pieces of paper apparently driving us to whatever ends they desired-- but to be ‘corrected’ in such a deliberate and gradual process was startling. It had only taken two weeks! I wanted to be wet in sheer defiance, but my cunt just wouldn’t respond any more, and I started to pass the inspections almost every time. My almost constant horniness wasn’t diminished one bit, and the butt-plug vibed like crazy to encourage me to fail, but my cunt was as clean and tidy as they’d requested.

At least, it was until the next butt-plug upgrade arrived. This thing was a monster, ribbed and bulging, and I was to discover featured a lockable mechanism that extended the shell outwards and wouldn’t allow removal without the key. I soon learnt that Rebecca was supposed to keep the key, and that I was to ask for permission to remove it. The first twist of the key in the lock spread the wings of the device into my anal cavity, gaping it ever wider, and then the surging vibrations kicked in to show me what it had in store for me. The whole device was so huge that contact with my ever-sensitive anus was more acute than ever. My cunt dripped for the first time in a while. I wasn’t sure if it was the vibrations deep inside my ass or the knowledge that I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without permission that was breaking through my prior correction, but the real kicker was the little remote that came with the lockable butt-plug that Rebecca had secreted away. Because it turned out that the plug had a further feature that Sexy had failed to inform me of before locking it securely in place: it could deliver painful and completely unavoidable electric shocks to the ass. I didn’t know what the wording of the more recently-arrived note had said, because Rebecca had failed to share that with me too, but I could quickly interpret that the shocks were to be used to encourage me to be a better lover. In my case, that just meant licking her pussy with increased vigour and passion no matter how long she expected me to be down there.

And so she it transpired that she would hold the remote in one hand during our future love-making, me licking her to orgasm over and over, in almost constant fear of what the locked device penetrating my rear could do. And my actions were suddenly no longer enough for her, despite one toe-curling climax after another quivering throughout her body. A shock would be delivered almost randomly, followed by a curt ‘lick it better, Naughty’. She was relentless in her application of this new punishment, but it definitely worked-- nobody wanted an electric shock to their rectum, and I was tonguing her frantically and deliberately, desperate to give her the pleasure she demanded. The shocks induced new wetness for me, whether through outright wetting myself on occasion or the shameful excitement I felt being so overwhelmingly used by this extremely sexy version of myself. And so I began routinely failing inspections again, and soft flesh that had started to heal was now barraged once more. It was difficult to maintain my composure amongst this dual assault-- I could swear she was deliberately shocking me just prior to each inspection to ensure I would fail it and have to be paddled again.

It took around another week and a half of this cycle, somewhat of a blur as it was for me, before I was re-trained enough not to get wet when she shocked me. The fear of the shocks, however, never diminished, and I was painfully aware of how much effort I made to lick her like I was absolutely ravenous for it. Words seemingly allowed where our tormentors permitted it, she even made me beg to lick her; to be on my knees besides the door desperate to lick her as soon as she got home. The necessity to shock me reduced, but the remote was always in hand just in case I faltered, and she was ever strict to ensure I was punished for the slightest reduction in keenness. I had to admit to myself that I was genuinely trained to be the best pussy-licker she could possibly need. Whilst throbbing somewhat-- especially whilst my invasive butt-plug was vibrating-- my own pussy truly was neglected, no longer visibly wet or aroused-- thoughts of my own pleasure almost forgotten about. I had been trained to relish Rebecca’s pleasure as if it were my very own, but I was still deeply frustrated at a primal level, and still yearned on occasion to touch myself and remember what it felt like to work myself up to orgasm.

I shouldn’t then have been surprised that the next pink box contained a bulky metal chastity belt that I was to wear at all times. Another key was added to Rebecca’s growing collection as she slipped it up my obliging legs-- the attached note once again seemingly for her eyes only as it eventually settled in place against my crotch and waist, clicking together snugly as the lock was fastened in place to the rear. The bulging presence of the plug remained visible through a sizeable cutout hole in the metallic surface around the anal opening-- and small breathable holes were fashioned below where the cunt sat, which seemed to suggest that the belt wasn’t to be removed in order to relieve myself. But otherwise the entire contraption was a formidable monstrosity, clearly designed to ensure that the user couldn’t possibly play with themselves-- had they even been capable of that to begin with. It felt a bit much to me, though it certainly cemented the idea that I wasn’t to spend time even considering my own pleasure: only Rebecca’s pleasure was to have any meaning for me. A symbol, then, perhaps, and a powerful one at that since it was a very visible reminder of how sexless I had unwittingly become.

But of course the belt also had a shock function. Apparently visible inspection was no longer enough to assert whether I was unduly excited or not-- this contraption was somehow fitted with a sensor that detected changes in blood flow around the vaginal opening, and would automatically shock my most delicate of areas whenever it sensed that I was allowing it to become even remotely engorged or aroused. This wasn’t about wetness any more: my cunt wasn’t even permitted to feel good, nor distract me from being the best pussy-licker I could be. It was the most fiendish re-conditioning goal I could imagine, but since shocks evidently seemed to work so well on me, I was almost certain that my body was going to accept this new status eventually. I couldn’t really imagine losing the feeling of excitement in my pussy as I was used by Rebecca to service her own-- would I still be aroused in any real sense if my cunt was completely unresponsive rather than politely throbbing, untouched and yearning between my legs?

This particular re-training was much more invasive on my psyche than previous cycles-- it was just so fundamentally natural to become aroused in the typical erogenousness zones, and to have that arousal instantly supplanted by sharp pain to that most sensitive of regions was a head-fuck of extreme proportions. If anything, I was thinking about my own cunt more than ever, focusing on the little flickers of arousal that I was permitted before it was yanked away again. I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but as time went on it did seem like my anus and breasts were becoming more sensitive in its stead, and my body still buzzed with something akin to excitement whilst I watched Rebecca climax from my continued services. Almost as if encouraging this, the butt-plug tried to keep my attention firmly on the deep penetration of my ass instead, each ribbed surface becoming more and more discernible as it shuddered away inside me. And it certainly felt like Rebecca was fondling my breasts more than usual, massaging and tugging on them as wandering hands worked their magic. My nipples pulsed in hardness, clearly enjoying the attention that she lavished on them.

It took nearly three weeks of this new torment before my body reluctantly found a way to deal with the situation. A particularly intense kneading of my breasts left me panting as I licked Rebecca long into one of our evening sessions. Neither of the shocks had yet been required that night, pleased as she was with my frantic efforts, and the belt was content enough that my cunt remained presently unexcited. Even with the vibrations dialled right down, my ass felt amazing. The successive plugs had been quite capable of exciting me right up until this point, but this was different-- it usually made my pussy throb and that drove my horniness right up. But now that I wasn’t being allowed that, it was apparently easier to instead focus on how it was actually pleasuring me more directly. My fears of not really feeling arousal if my cunt wasn’t on fire seemed somewhat unfounded-- my ass was just as capable of driving my sexual lust onwards. And so it was that I found myself short of breath, body quivering as my first 100% anal orgasm started to overcome me. She kept me close to her cunt as I rode the prolonged sensation, the first taste of relief in what felt like forever. Maybe I didn’t remember what an orgasm actually felt like by the point, but it seemed different to me, detached from any real point of origin, though my ass definitely continued to feel extremely sensitive. I had received no shocks to my cunt, so I knew it had played absolutely no part in that release. The after-effects were muted; I was only slightly satisfied and my overall arousal seemed no different than before. I wanted more-- I wanted whatever little I was going to get. Rebecca smiled down at me as my body ceased shaking, “Good girl” she said plainly, as if this was everything she had been working towards since the chastity belt had been fitted in place.

And so I got my wish. Though the vibrations remained torturously gentle to make me work for it, I found that I could experience that strange little flutter of an orgasm, all whilst my restrained pussy sat thoroughly unused and unexcited in almost paralysing fear of piercing electric shocks. Anal orgasms were permitted it seemed, and perhaps even desirable. Whilst it continued to feel somewhat unnatural, it became easier and easier to climax this way, and each one always left me wanting more. Sexy Rebecca would always lean in and whisper ‘Good girl’ into my ear as the climax petered out, which only seemed to encourage me to want to embrace this sordid new form of pleasure more keenly. Eventually I didn’t even need the vibrations to get me there, just clenching myself around the plug would in time do the same job-- which became necessary because the vibes kept being switched off whenever I got close enough. At some point, Rebecca took a more active role in this activity, unlocking the plug and feeding it slowly in and out of my ass, the vibrations completely inactive, but the thrusting sensations seeming suddenly very new and exciting. The belt shocked me a few times as she began training me to orgasm this way, gently fucking my ass with the massive toy. Once I succeeded a few times in the space of a few days of practice, she became more rough and forceful and I was shocked to discover that only a few thrusts were necessary to push me straight to that lofty anal experience. The ‘Good girl’s continued with each and every anal orgasm that was forced out of me, and I really did feel like I was being a good girl, and that this was indeed some kind of twisted reward for all that I had given up to reach this point. This went on for weeks, my pussy long abandoned and savagely demoted from being part of my sex life going forwards. Eventually, however, I was shocked to discover just how far I had been conditioned in this new direction-- for it was now possible to induce an anal orgasm from only one quick thrust into my ass. Rebecca would essentially fuck me with the bulging plug, pulling it out excruciatingly slowly each time before thrusting it back inside in one quick movement, instantly triggering a humiliating climax. Over and over she would repeat this motion, and she never once failed to evoke this exact response from my exceedingly-compliant body. Ten times in a row, then up to twenty; she just kept going, relishing how easily I would climax for her in this perverted fashion.

For well over a month Rebecca continued to stimulate me in this manner, generally only after I’d licked her pussy for hours on end and given her more than her share of explosive orgasms. She had long ceased to be gentle with the plug, fucking my ass as roughly as she desired, and every thrust still coaxed me to that modest semblance of an orgasm, that felt both good and wrong and never really quite enough to satisfy. I was reaching over a hundred anal orgasms a session by this point, without a single shock to my ensnared, and apparently wholly uninterested, cunt. And then quite suddenly one day Rebecca removed my butt-plug completely and didn’t reinsert it. I was left with a very real gaping hole and nothing but confusion as I continued to service Rebecca’s needs whilst mine went completely neglected. I struggled to think about anything else. I hadn’t realised how much I’d looked forward to being repeatedly induced to orgasm via only my ass, and the absence of the plug was strangely unbearable. I couldn’t have known just how addicted I would become to that depraved slither of pleasure, and it soon became clear that this was exactly what had been intended all along.

A few agonising days passed without incident, though I longed for Rebecca to play with my ass again. I had been left completely deprived of this new sensation, the reasons left irritably unspoken, and my body was aching for relief once more. The belt had to correct me more than a few times as my burning desire to once again experience an orgasm-- even an anally-induced one-- spilled over to my cunt again. I was buzzing with horniness, but the electric shocks did slowly force my pussy to conform. My ass felt so empty. It was no surprise that when Rebecca presented the butt-plug to me one evening just after a prolonged pussy-licking session that I almost lost my composure entirely. She could tell immediately that I wanted it, and told me to get over on all fours: hands and knees on the bed, with my back arched and my ass held up high, just like she’d started to have me position myself for easier access previously. I was far too happy to oblige. Instead of pressing the toy against my ass, however, she instead disappeared to the kitchen for a moment, returning with a large bowl of what looked to me like congealed milk of some sort.

“So, Naughty, another gift arrived recently,” Rebecca said as I waited in that highly-vulnerable position for her to play with me, “and I’ve been keeping it in the fridge until you were ready.” She started mixing a spoon through this strange-looking liquid as I looked up at her impatiently, watching her move to perch herself in front of me, bringing the bowl down low enough to be level with my face. She scooped a spoonful of it up and brought it right next to my nose. I almost retched-- it smelled absolutely foul. I finally had a more solid idea of what it was.

“Yes, it’s thick and creamy cum, Naughty-- some of it admittedly fresher than others. Apparently gathered from an army of perverts that watch your video footage. And now they get to take part, in a way.”

I continued to look up at her incredulously, still not really catching on.

“The deal is, you lick up a spoonful of this, and then you get one little thrust with this,” she showed me the butt-plug. “A mouthful of cum for an orgasm. That is, after you swallow, and after you show me that it’s all gone down.”

She didn’t even really give me chance to contemplate this outrageous activity, and I was clearly too horny to think straight regardless. I definitely did not want to eat even a tiny amount of that, but I definitely did also want an orgasm. And when the body is that highly-aroused, it makes you do silly things.

“Come on, Naughty, the first one will be the hardest, and then it’ll be easy” she beamed at me as the spoonful of cum was held perilously close to my clenched mouth. She kept lofting it closer to my nose to ensure I felt sheer revulsion at the thought of opening my mouth to let that in. Pressing the spoon against my pursed lips, I could feel the shame of this moment eating away at me-- I had even been positioned with my head facing the bedroom camera, which was no doubt deliberate. I reluctantly parted my lips, and she quickly took advantage. The spoon was inside before I could really react, wiped almost clean by pensive lips as she pulled it back again. There was no denying how disgusting it tasted, strong and sour and other flavours I couldn’t even give names. I almost retched, but I suspected I wouldn’t be able to. It was in my mouth now, and I was expected to swallow it down and not spit it out.

“Don’t make it hard for yourself-- just swallow.”

Somehow, I did. In a way that made it less disgusting, because it wasn’t lingering amongst my taste buds any more, but now I tasted it everywhere else instead. I desperately wanted some water to wash it away with. Rebecca gestured that I show her that I’d done it, though my face probably confirmed it already. I opened wide and she smiled down at me, before climbing off the bed and reaching behind me. As promised I felt the plug press against my ass, and for a moment the taste wasn’t quite so bad. She wasted no time with playfulness and thrust it in nice and hard, instantly leaving me trembling with the pleasure coursing my prone form. My posture caved at the moment of orgasm before I remembered that I should keep my ass up. Without much in the way of delay, Rebecca left the plug fully inside and came back around to sit on the bed in front of me. The spoon went back into the bowl.

“Good girl! Are you ready for the next mouthful? And don’t worry, there’s plenty more left in the fridge once we get through all of this.”

I looked at the bowl again as the spoon was raised to my lips. It was a mixing bowl of some sort, and relatively massive as far as bowls went. I couldn’t imagine a world where all of that ended up in my mouth, it was just so much. I didn’t fight as the second spoonful was deposited in my mouth, adding a fresh load of filth to the pooling remnants of the first. It was much harder work to swallow, though, whole parts of my brain screaming at me not to, but my rampant horniness finally made me do it anyway. The resulting reward was the same, an orgasm that lasted just long enough to feel worth it, but incapable of fully satisfying. I already knew from past recollection that I could savour a hundred of these wannabe orgasms without really tiring, and still wanting more when she finished with me. In the third spoonful went; and then swallowed. Anal orgasm. Fourth spoonful. Orgasm. I stopped really registering the revulsion, slick as my mouth now was with this seemingly-infinite mixture of spunk, the level in the bowl barely even depleted.

We got to ten mouthfuls, and then twenty, the larger milestones counted off by her after each triumphant ‘Good girl’. She kept feeding me cum, and I kept accepting, unable to quench my thunderous need to climax. By the time we reached fifty spoonfuls I was clearly somewhat past the overall humiliation of what I was being made to do. The taste was foul, and the thought of where it had actually come from was obscene, but it definitely got easier with each mouthful. Though maybe I was just telling myself that in order to get what I wanted.

Rebecca stopped feeding it to me at fifty spoonfuls, though she clearly knew I would’ve kept going, and she couldn’t help herself smiling at the depravity I was apparently capable of. This was far from a one-off, though, and the next day she resumed this fucked-up feeding session, the bowl still well over two-thirds full following the initial session. I was quickly guided into position bent-over and completely vulnerable; the metal spoon once again made its way to initially-reluctant lips, and before I knew it I had swallowed down a hundred loads as the price for a hundred anally-induced orgasms. And still I knew I would keep going. I just didn’t seem to be able to say no. The bowl was finally emptying, and it seemed like Rebecca figured it was worth cleaning it out-- which ended up being another 25 spoonfuls. I felt absolutely saturated with the taste of cum at this point. It had permeated every possible inch of my mouth and throat, and my lips were glazed with it. Whilst the individual loads had become easier to bear on their own, the sheer total volume that I was forced to acknowledge had now been consumed was much more poignant a humiliation. And all of it had been captured on camera to boot. Emptying the bowl made me feel very real physical shame. I hated that the yearnings of my body had made me do that.

Without really missing a beat, Rebecca took the bowl away and barely a minute later re-emerged with the bowl completely full again. We had emptied the bowl, but we weren’t finished. The spoon dutifully came up with the first load of this fresh batch, though it smelt even more rank than the last. I couldn’t believe that we were to keep going. This was suddenly too much to endure, even though I should have rationally surpassed that barrier 100 mouthfuls earlier. But I opened my mouth and accepted another 25 spoonfuls before she finally decided I’d had enough. In the days that followed Rebecca would always push me to higher and higher milestones, the supply of stored semen seemingly endless, and every day I would let her degrade me ever further than before. The taste didn’t really seem to go away, even long after such a session, and I was never really able to accept that it was anything but revolting. If they were trying to train me to like the taste then I didn’t think it was working-- but it turned out that what they had in mind was quite different, and I was introduced to a new torment after we finally hit 300 spoonfuls in just one session, which was far worse than it sounded since she’d already fed me 200 mouthfuls earlier that day too. But 500 loads meant 500 little orgasms, and somehow I’d convinced myself that the extreme levels of degradation being expected of me was worth it. At the time it certainly had felt that way-- only afterwards did the shame really sink in.

Rebecca explained how things were to be spiced up at the beginning of the next session, my ass raised high as expected, and the mostly-full bowl ready in front of me. This was the fifth overall refill, I was sure, but I was trying really hard not to think about how much cum I had swallowed by this point-- and it certainly felt like no end was in sight.

“The important thing to remember, Naughty, is one mouthful of cum swallowed equals one anal orgasm. You already know this. Only one-- not two, or three or however many you like.”

I was initially confused by this statement, as it didn’t really feel like anything was different from before. It seemed the particulars were going to be demonstrated, however, as Rebecca immediately guided the first spoonful into my mouth. She didn’t need to check that I swallowed by this point-- she knew I always obliged and gulped it right down to most efficiently get to the part I cared most about. As per usual, in went the butt-plug, resulting in the usual mini-orgasm, already convincing myself that I was going to swallow again as the ripples of pleasure faded. But then she pulled the plug out once more, which she didn’t normally do, and suddenly thrust it right back inside again. I convulsed in delight immediately, unable to help myself, but the pleasure was entirely short-lived as the plug then shocked my asshole while perched at the very heights of orgasm-- instantly exhausting any prior enjoyment that I felt. Again, Rebecca removed the plug, oblivious to my predicament, plunged it right back in and watched as I quivered in desire. The plug once more savagely brought me back down with a piercing electric shock, tearing away my pleasure as soon as it had begun. This time the plug stayed in, and Rebecca sauntered back to the bowl in front of me. Casually raising another load of spunk up to my lips, she smiled as I obediently allowed her to continue.

“One mouthful,” she repeated, “one orgasm.”

I swallowed, and she returned to my rear to administer the reward. I tensed, my body expecting to be shocked, but this time she allowed the orgasm to propagate and linger, giving me several moments before pulling the plug out. I knew what was coming this time. I was allowed one orgasm, not more. She shoved it back in and I began to climax. I couldn’t help myself. The resulting shock ruined it completely, replacing pleasure with sheer agony. With very little delay, she yanked it out and thrust it back inside. Again I was swiftly punished with a shock as an orgasm tried to find me. Ten times she inflicted this cruelty on my ass, shocking it deep inside at the point of orgasm, brutally ruining it and leaving me sore and fearful of more.

A mouthful of cum went in: an orgasm was permitted. The following ten were all mercilessly denied, routinely shocked by the very instrument that had triggered the climax in the first place. The lesson was clear by this point: I had to force myself not to climax on successive thrusts. This turned out to be extremely difficult to achieve, so well trained was my ass to provide an orgasm with only a single thrust of a toy inside it. I endured days of this fresh torment, my body refusing to learn, reaching upwards of twenty savagely ruined orgasms being delivered after each permitted one, itself only following the consumption of a new spoonful. But I always learned eventually, it seemed, and the overwhelming fear of the shocks did manage to break the spell-- my body finally starting to recognise that it could only relax enough to climax immediately after I’d swallowed. This had been such a distraction that I’d somehow still managed to get through another three bowls of the donated spunk, and I no longer thought much of anything as I gulped it right down. Weeks later my ass was fully complaint-- Rebecca could feed me a mouthful and reward me with an orgasm, then continue to fuck that same hole as long as she wanted without accidents. She even started to test that I wouldn’t orgasm if she just randomly penetrated me throughout the day outside of my feeding sessions, and a few shocks were necessary to enforce that this would always be the case. In time I reached the point where I really did need to swallow cum before I could attain the momentary bliss of an anally-induced orgasm. The implications of that didn’t really sink in until it was far too late. I literally needed to eat cum if I wanted pleasure-- my body was now fundamentally wired up to expect exactly that. They hadn’t actually made me addicted to eating cum, no, they’d been far more sinister than that-- they’d long ago made me addicted to what passed as an orgasm in my depraved sex life, but now they’d just made it a requirement that I eat cum to even have one of those in the first place. It was pretty fucked up.

Rebecca would regularly fuck my ass with the plug to ensure this was being enforced, ever ready to shock me if I were to fail. I barely even noticed when one day she seemed to have replaced the butt-plug with a bulging penis-shaped dildo, thrusting that inside instead with no observable change in how I performed. My body continued to fear the shocks, even though it didn’t even know if this new contraption could deliver them. Instead of prolonged cum-eating sessions, she would instead just go and collect the bowl at random periods and feed me a few spoonfuls in between thrusts, trying to trick my body into cumming at the wrong times. It didn’t happen. I had been conditioned to need the taste of semen in my throat or it just didn’t happen. I had a trigger, and Rebecca was increasingly confident that it had stuck. It just turned out that the trigger wasn’t exactly what I thought it was.

My first exposure to this reality was when Rebecca unceremoniously pulled the dildo from my ass after having given my bottom a vigorous bout of ramming. She had the bowl of cum ready nearby, and knew by now that in a twisted kind of way I would be almost hungry for it at this point. Instead of reaching for the spoon, however, she instead brought this new toy up to my face and wafted it just below my nose as she had routinely done for the spoonful of donated sperm at the outset of that particular training. This thing had been in my ass just moments before, and definitely smelt highly unpleasant, perhaps more so than even a spoonful of filth, though my mind had almost managed to normalise that after a thousand or so mouthfuls. She started to nudge the tip of the throbbing penis against my lips, and my eyes opened wide in startling realisation: she wanted it to go in my mouth. Even the movement of something being pressed against my lips in this manner felt like it could be a trigger of sorts, because I couldn’t really help myself from opening up and letting her slide it right in. It had been such a long time since I had felt the girth of a penis in my mouth, even an artificial one such as this was, and my gag reflex was thoroughly engaged as she tried to edge more inside.

“Lick it clean, Naughty”

I really wanted the cum in my mouth instead. I was used to the cum-- somehow-- maddeningly. Doing as I was instructed felt like the only recourse, my body as primed to need those bite-sized orgasms as it ever was, and I gingerly felt out the shaft with my tongue, trying so hard not to think about where this thing had just been. This was nothing like dealing with having cum in my mouth, but it was deeply disgusting on an almost primal level. I continued to lick and work my tongue along it as she gently passed the length between my lips. She continued doing this for whole minutes, apparently keen to make sure that I was thorough. Eventually, satisfied, she brought the dildo up to my eyeline to show me how glistening and slick with saliva it was.

“Now swallow to make sure all of that filth goes down. I didn’t want to show you, but it was really messy after I pulled it out of your ass.” By now, when Rebecca told me to swallow I almost immediately swallowed, and this time wasn’t going to be any different. She looked down at me, grinning to herself, before reaching behind and shoving the dildo up my rear. I climaxed hard, initially surprised, and then overwhelmingly fearful that I’d done something to warrant renewed punishment, but she just stroked my hair as the climax gently fizzled away and whispered ‘Good girl.’ My trigger wasn’t just about having cum in my mouth, it was actually more about being made to swallow something disgusting, no matter what that disgusting thing was. She emphasised this point by continuing to fuck my ass with the toy for a while, pleased that I remained completely unfulfilled whilst she shoved it in. In turn, she then brought that same dildo around to my face and ensured that I smelt the foulness it brought along with it just before nudging it into my waiting mouth. I despised how little resistance I was capable of presenting as I let my tongue work along the shaft. She fucked my mouth gently whilst I complied with this nauseating task, making sure the dildo was cleaned all the way along before finally removing it and presenting it to my deflated eyes in all of its sparkling glory. She had me swallow, and I got my reward. This continued for a while-- this extremely perverted game of enforced ass-to-mouth that never failed to feel repulsive. She got more aggressive whilst feeding the dildo inside my mouth, deeper and harsher movements, and it would go straight back in if she didn’t feel it was clean enough-- which only reminded me of what I was now dutifully licking off. She didn’t show me the toy before it first went in, so my mind instead tortured me with the possibilities-- of just how much filth from my own ass she was making me taste, lick down and swallow.

As if I hadn’t been humiliated enough during this particular session, she then reached for the bowl of cum nearby, half-full at this particular moment-- though I had lost count of the total number of bowls we had got through-- it was definitely over 10 at least-- and started the now all-too-familiar steps that began with scooping up a load as I sheepishly looked on. I was almost thankful for the taste as the spoon deposited its filth-- or at least something to take away the disgust my senses currently registered, as fucked up a thought as I knew that certainly was: replacing one filth with another. I swallowed, which almost felt like a mercy, washing away whatever I’d just licked off the dildo. Cruelly, there was a lesson still to be learnt, however, and instead of reaching behind me to deliver an orgasm as anticipated, she instead slowly dipped the spoon back into the foul liquid and scooped up another mouthful, watching as I accepted it into my mouth once more-- and I imagined I looked quite clearly completely confused and greatly displeased as I tried to wrap my head around what was actually happening. A third spoonful came up, then a fourth, each one swallowed in turn. Without the buzz of an orgasm to motivate me, I could instead feel my disgust rising, the urge to retch gnawing away at me. I had swallowed so much spunk in the last few weeks that you’d think I would be used to it, but now I felt like I was being exposed to it from scratch all over again. Five loads; six. There was to be no let up in frequency, my mouth barraged with these layers of constant filth, with no relief offered up as encouragement. The almost-forgotten about but ever-present chastity belt suddenly shocked my cunt as I swallowed down the seventh load. Almost as if uncaring, Rebecca continued to bring spoonful after spoonful up to my lips, shocks continuing to ripple through my crotch as the sheer absurdity of the situation broke through my prior conditioning. My cunt throbbed as we reached twenty such mouthfuls, all consumed without the anticipated comfort of interspersed climaxes to guide me onwards-- and the belt aggressively sought to punish me for this break in the programming, so to speak, electric shocks coming more and more frequently. I couldn’t seem to help it-- and I wasn’t even particularly aroused by anything-- though forever yearning for what little she would offer me.

It was all so confusing-- why was my body responding to this, of all things; to be fed the sperm of a multitude of unknown men, over and over, without pleasure of any kind offered as reward. All I felt in that moment was shame. I was ashamed that I could so easily be driven so low, to put things that had been in my ass in my mouth; to swallow the most outrageous filth, just at the chance of getting a just barely-good enough orgasm, and almost instantly yearning another anyway. I had been manipulated by the promise of mere flickers of pleasure to debase myself further and further. I barely allowed myself to think about how sore my ass was all of the time, so thoroughly used now that it always was, and the taste of spunk had completely overwhelmed by taste buds, ensuring that everything tasted of it long after it had last been fed to me. The shocks continued-- I just couldn’t reign in whatever was exciting that most tender of regions. We reached thirty mouthfuls, one right after the other, with no clue as to when she would relent and let my throat rest. It turned out that the number was sixty-seven, though I doubted she had even been counting, and still the belt was forced to deliver its shocks right up until the end. I felt utter humiliation, and the cameras had recorded every moment of my shame. She didn’t seem that troubled by the inability of my cunt to stay unexcited, finally reaching behind me and pushing the dildo all the way inside. The long-delayed orgasm came, though it was lost amongst the overwhelming sense of degeneracy that I felt. It was almost completely unsatisfying. She thrust the dildo inside again and nothing happened, which I quickly presumed was the point. She continued to fuck my ass just to be sure-- sixty-seven mouthfuls definitely did not mean sixty-seven mini orgasms. All I got was the one, and my body already knew that. I could practically feel how pleased she was that I responded just as she intended, and she was still smiling to herself as she brought the dildo back around to my front, wafting it below my nose as if on cue, and then pressed the tip against my lips expectedly. The absolute powerlessness that I felt in that moment was almost as shocking as the electric ones directed to my crotch, as they instantly started up again. I couldn’t fight the abject humiliation of it all, as she made me lick that penis dildo once more. The eventual pleasure came soon after, but it wasn’t quite the same when your cunt was being almost continuously shocked. Something had snapped, and Rebecca didn’t seem to care, continuing to torment me as if nothing at all was out of place.

I managed to regain my composure by the following day, the familiar yearning to orgasm consuming my thoughts. A nights sleep seemed to be a powerful means of resetting myself, but I quickly discovered that I was just as effortlessly torn apart again. Load after load entered my mouth without respite, and long without reward, and the belt was forced to provide shock after shock as the shame seeped through. Sometimes she wouldn’t even remember to give me an orgasm at the end, which was particularly mortifying after upwards of a hundred spoonfuls all at once, leaving me bent over and waiting on the bed, my back arched and bare bottom presented up high-- forced to think about and relive every little detail of what I’d just done-- the cruel chastity belt still applying regular shocks to my tortured cunt long after she’d left. At some point she had placed a collar around my neck and attached a leash to it in order to lead me to and from the bedroom-- presumably another gift that I had been unfairly unaware of until then. For some reason when the leash handle was tossed aside and unattended, I just felt like I was supposed to stay put. More than that, I had an overwhelming sensation that I was supposed to stay exactly as I had been left. And so it was that when Rebecca came back over an hour later, she found me still on all fours on the bed, my ass up high. My eyes almost pleaded with her, though I didn’t really know what I wanted to say had I even been able to. Sitting down in front of me on the bed, the bowl came into view and she wasted no time at all in starting to feed cum into my mouth once again, scooping it up quickly to ensure I had almost no chance to react before the next load was waiting to be gulped down. She said nothing as the belt visibly shocked my most sensitive of areas as the number of spoonfuls got higher and higher. She fetched a second bowl, and continued. I had lost count by the time she picked herself up and departed from the bedroom, taking the remainder of the new bowl with her, so distracted that I was with how harshly my pussy was being punished throughout. It took me a moment to realise that I’d been denied my reward a second time that day, and that I’d been left to deliberate my predicament in that most vulnerable of positions, the leash handle plainly visible on the pillow that she’d used to perch herself comfortably before me. The shocks continued for longer than before, my cunt positively throbbing with whatever refused to stop washing over me in this sordid state, the unseen audience beyond the bedroom camera no doubt savouring each zap of the belt to my crotch, this extremely attractive and absurdly submissive girl on their screens seemingly waiting willingly in that highly-suggestive pose until the next time that her casually-strict and equally-stunning mistress would spare a moment to come and play with her.

Actual orgasms became few and far between, and mostly happened during the times that she felt like reminding me of the taste my ass for a while. In a way that became the most preferable way that she would make use of me, though the belt still shocked my cunt as the sessions ran on, alternating the dildo between my mouth and my ass for longer than felt sensible, the constant and sheer volume of filth finding its way to my mouth eventually breaking my resolve. It was all just so much beyond what you’d find in a normal sex life-- the endless and sickening routines added up to a mind fuck of intense proportions. I found that the ever-dangled allure of those mini anal orgasms continued to motivate me onwards, but the thought of them was more powerful than the reality- they were increasingly unsatisfying in the moment, numbed somewhat by whatever blanket sensations were coursing my body and ultimately fuelling the apparent excitement of my vagina. Still no mention of my failure to stay unexcited down there was brought up, and the method of correction continued to be insufficient, utterly unavoidable and thoroughly piercing pain though it was. It was almost as if my body wanted the punishment; or felt like it deserved it. In turn I almost felt resentment that it wouldn’t stop aching and throbbing and blatantly craving something that I really couldn’t give it. The belt was an absolute barrier, there was literally no way to get to my pussy, and that had been thunderously true for a long time now. I had unwittingly become something of a slave to the sensations offered by my ass, and had somewhat lapped that up whilst I was able-- but in dire absence of as much satisfaction of late, my silly cunt was trying to re-establish itself as something I needed to focus my attention towards. And I couldn’t let it get its way.

My suspicions about the ‘powers’ of the leash were all but confirmed one day when Rebecca left me in position-- ready for quick use at all times-- for a particularly long period of time. I didn’t think she was even in the house for most of it. And I needed to pee. The en-suite bathroom was just there, barely two meters away, but I simply could not convince myself to make use of it. After hours of trying to restrain myself, I eventually couldn’t hold it in any longer and it burst out from the small holes of the belt and around the crotch plate, shamefully wetting myself on the bed. It trickled down my outspread legs, much of it dripping straight down to where Rebecca had apparently placed a large bowl-- not unlike the ones used to feed me endless spoonfuls of cum-- seemingly in preparation for this very eventuality. When Rebecca finally returned, some hours later, dried pee lathering my crotch and legs, I expected to be admonished for what I’d done. Instead, she leant in and whispered ‘Good girl,’ before reaching down for the bowl that had caught much of my waste. When I next saw her reach for a nearby spoon, the shocks to my cunt fired up almost instantly. Now I had some idea of why she had insisted that I drink so much water beforehand. And I was almost certain that I had been conditioned to open wide and swallow on command at this point, far too eagerly taking in a spoonful of my own piss after the customary wafting of the metal spoon below my nose to induce just the right amount of disgust. Gulping it down as instructed, she summarily demonstrated that this equally foul substance was sufficient to provide me with an orgasm, and allowed me a few such treats after each spoonful was revoltingly swallowed down. But then the treats stopped completely, and she simply scooped the remaining contents into my mouth until the bowl was depleted. Then she left me there with the loathsome taste of my own piss saturating my mouth, no final orgasm to savour, the emptied bowl left tauntingly before me, and the ever-present chastity belt continuing to shock me for my utter depravity long after she’d left the room.

And of course being left for long periods of time to ensure I wet myself became an added part of my twisted sex life, lengthy mixtures of cum, piss and the taste of my own ass dutifully entered my mouth to be swallowed down, occasionally rewarded with a vastly diminishing anal orgasm, but more often than not just left to wallow in my own shame after she was done with me. And all of this to the chorus of regular shocks to my cunt throughout. I spent most of my days bent over in that position on the bed, only able to wait for Rebecca to return and torment me all over again. Bowls of her own pee were added to the rotation of filth, and she would even penetrate her own bottom with the dildo to make me lick up whatever it found whilst inside her own ass too. This had the unfortunate benefit in that I didn’t even get to enjoy an orgasm between tastings, the cock shoved into my mouth with little regard for my discomfort, fucking my mouth like it was a pussy. I was only getting one or two pitiful orgasms a day by this point, but consuming vast amounts of filth regardless. Shame was an eternal part of my world now, and I simply couldn’t escape it. Rebecca was relentless in maintaining the level of extreme powerlessness that I felt at all times, and I was never allowed to get used to it since something worse was always just over the horizon.

The next such thing was when she started loaning me out. This was thrust on me without warning-- taking me for a walk one day, her hand firmly holding the leash that affixed to my collar and drawing me onwards. Leashed walks had become a commonplace thing not that long ago: I did need exercise to stay in such amazing shape, after all. Shameful in their own right since the leash pulling me along was obvious to anyone we passed, I almost looked forward to these excursions since it meant I wasn’t being left on all fours on the bed instead. It was typical of the way I was handled that I was forever trading one torment for another, and in this case I had to keep my eyes low to avoid disparaging glances as she took me to increasingly public and busy places, clad in uncomfortably-high heels and micro mini-skirts that did nothing at all to hide the presence of my chastity belt below. It was borderline public indecency, and of course my cunt would end up having to endure regular shocks whenever she took me to crowded locations or yanked on the leash to urge me to hurry up. At some point she had just randomly decided to secure a pair of skyscraper heels around my ankles, which I suspected had been sent to us as a further gifting-- little padlocks around the ankles ensuring that I would be forced almost onto tiptoes whenever I was to walk anywhere. These towering shoes quickly became unpleasant and difficult to walk in, giving Rebecca ample opportunity to pull on my leash and embarrass me. So, okay, I guess this was actually the next terrible thing that they made me endure. But then one day she just handed the leash to a complete stranger and walked off.

The guy had clearly known what he was getting, because he just proceeded to walk me away in the other direction, oblivious to my clear astonishment at what was transpiring. He walked fast and urged me onwards, occasionally looking back fondly at my perfect figure, virtually all of it on display for any to see. Eventually he led me into a building, which I quickly assumed was his apartment, and without really breaking stride beckoned me forcefully with the leash into a nearby bedroom. He seemed to know that he only had to place me on the bed in order for me to remain there, and even more shamefully for me that I would instantly put myself into the position on all-fours, my back arched, head low, and my ass presented upwards. The generous circular opening of the chastity belt that provided abundant access to my ass was brought fully into view as my flimsy skirt rose up to my waistline. The belt started to shock my cunt as my complete and utter powerlessness and feelings of vulnerability became exhaustively clear, and the man wasted no time at all in unzipping himself, before hurriedly stepping behind me. I wasn’t tight back there any more, that much was certain, and he thrust his clearly very excited cock into my ass with a satisfied grunt. My tortured cunt bore shock after shock as he keenly penetrated my ass, delighting in how servile I seemed to be as he fucked me. I couldn’t move, and couldn’t object. I couldn’t orgasm and I couldn’t stop the constant shocks to my pussy that seemed almost to come in time with each deep penetration. The violation was so utterly complete-- a complete stranger was having his way with me, using me like some kind of sex worker, my feelings completely eclipsed by the cardinal need of this random man to ravage my behind with his throbbing cock.

I hadn’t had sex with a man in such an incredibly long time, it seemed-- but this wasn’t even sex, I was just an object to be used and manhandled; a very clearly delineated fuck-hole to entertain his shaft with. His cock felt notably different to the artificial one that usually penetrated my ass, warmer and slicker and infinitely more abrasive; his balls thumping against the base of my bestowed rear as he rammed himself deeper and more urgently. He grunted with pleasure whilst his climax approached, hands gripping my waist tightly for leverage, my copiously-abused asshole driving him to excitement. The pounding intensified further and further, battering away at my perpetually sore hole, until finally he climaxed, letting out low grunts of pleasure whilst his spunk erupted into my ass. His body shook with the effort, pleasure quite clearly coursing throughout his body as his cock swelled inside me-- all whilst the dreadful shocks to my cunt continued unabated, their frequency more rapid than ever, delivering to me sharp and painful jolts in stark contrast to the pulsating orgasmic bliss that he now felt.

Satisfied for the moment, the man pulled out his cock, and following a hard smack to my bottom, simply walked out of the bedroom, leaving me on all fours to await his return, just as Rebecca often did. I couldn’t believe that she had done this to me, though--, to leave me in the hands of a complete stranger for however long, alone and vulnerable in their house. I knew I was shaking somewhat, and it was harder to maintain my posture. I could still feel his cock in my ass, and the shame of how casually he’d used me, without the remotest regard for how I felt. It was a dizzying sensation, but all I could do was wait, knowing that I would definitely be utilised again as soon as the post-orgasm rationality had given way once more to sordid lust.

And he certainly did have his way with me again, each time rougher than the last, my lips staunchly unable to complain, and load after load were blasted inside me. Each time he left me to wallow in my shame and my soreness, his cum pooling and dripping out of me as I kept my legs parted and my ass high, at the absolute optimal height for further usage. The day passed as something of a blur. I was rarely left too long, and the fucking was almost mercifully quick, but at some point another man came around to the house and had a turn with my ass as well. It was all so incredibly dehumanising, slapping my arse as they rode me and laughing at how obedient I was at all times. Eventually they realised they could use me from both ends, one of the men easily enticing my mouth to let his shaft inside whilst the other fucked me from behind. As both my ass and mouth were fucked simultaneously, sandwiched between the cocks of complete strangers, the shocking of my cunt reached fever pitch, unbearable jolts of pain lancing my cunt over and over as they thrust and grabbed at me for leverage. When the cock in my mouth did finally erupt in orgasm and shot that hot sticky load right down my throat, I finally got something akin to pleasure, my ass quivering in short-lived ecstasy when the next thrust drove into my ass. The shocks made sure that it was only barely enjoyable, a tiny moment of satisfaction amongst nothing else but intense debauchery and shame.

It was some time later when I was led back to the street where I’d initially been handed over, and Rebecca was there waiting to receive me. I walked along sullenly, and she didn’t test the leash very often. The belt continued to punish my cunt with almost every step. Once we were back home, Rebecca led me to the bedroom and instantly had me back in position on the bed, my exhausted ass bestowed as if for inspection, memories of my earlier use flooding back to the fore. There were hand marks on my bottom from where they’d gripped and smacked me, and my asshole itself was visibly red and sore after such frequently rough abuse. I watched on absently as she left the room, coming back with the bowl of deplorable cum and a spoon. This was too much-- I had just been ravaged by strangers in their own home, and now Rebecca was just going to feed me endless amounts of cum again. As she started to guide the first spoonful up to my lips I could feel the chastity belt working tirelessly to punish my cunt, a near constant surge of electric that wouldn’t go away. I would’ve been screaming in pain were I able to, but instead I swallowed as directed. Five; ten spoonfuls. The shocks were so rapid and so intense that my body was visibly shaking, trying desperately to find some relief from this never-ending onslaught, my eyes watering. How many hundreds of loads would I have to eat this time? Would she just leave me there again in that deplorable pose after she was done tormenting me? This was exactly how they had had me positioned, my ass just as well presented as it had been then. I felt so dirty and used, and deeply ashamed that I seemed to just be letting it all happen to me. Rebecca put the spoon down.

“Okay, Naughty, I think you’re ready.”

She moved behind me, and did something I really did not expect. She unfastened my chastity belt, finally providing me with a break from the shocks as it slid apart and was removed completely from around my crotch and waist. She then leant me back on the bed, legs parted, elbows beneath me to prop myself up somewhat, and I got my first look at my cunt since the belt had been placed onto me-- oh so long ago. It was shocking to see how red and bruised the whole area was, and that my clitoris had swollen right up, looking very ripe and tender. Without further remark, Rebecca climbed between my legs from the other end of the bed, her head coming to rest enticingly close-- just as close to my recently-unveiled pussy as I would typically be to be able to lick her to orgasm. And then, really quite suddenly, she did start licking me, gently at first, then more intently as I began to respond to her efforts. Tortured though my entire cunt had been, it couldn’t deny how fantastic her tongue felt, soothing and intoxicating and all kinds of exciting. Nothing had touched my cunt for the best part of a year, so pretty much anything going near it would’ve been cause for excitement. To be licked by such a skilled tongue was utterly phenomenal. She looked up at me for a moment.

“This will be your final ever orgasm, do you understand? So I suggest you make it last, and don’t cum too quickly.”

With that she went straight back to licking me, expertly ramping up my arousal, the extremely tender flesh of my pussy unable to withstand these seemingly brand-new sensations. Even though she’d told me to drag it out, I could already feel that I was really close to orgasm. She didn’t relent, though, working faster to excite me, as if trying to coerce me to cum much sooner than I actually wanted. I tried so hard to resist, to savour every moment of this rare opportunity, clenching and twisting and doing anything I could do to slow things down, to hold out despite so desperately wanting to let go. I was perched on the very edge, and even then I wouldn’t let it go over, focusing so hard on denying myself for just a moment more. I wanted to enjoy her soothing tongue for as long as possible. Rebecca got hours of pleasure when she made me lick her-- this wasn’t fair at all. But then I just couldn’t hold out any longer, my pussy absolutely on fire.

And only then did she pull her mouth away from my cunt. She presented me with a timer that had apparently been running on her phone, wiping away the juices that lingered on her lips as she sat herself up again.

“44 seconds, Naughty. That’s embarrassing. You couldn’t hold out longer than that?”

Without really breaking stride-- only too aware of how incredibly horny I still was, and how severely deflated I felt now that I had deliberately denied myself such incredible pleasure-- she placed what seemed to be a long piece of wood into one of my hands.

“Now you’re going to punish your cunt. And I mean, really punish it. That’s a cane in your hand, and you’re going to strike yourself in your most special little place for 10 minutes minus how long you held out just now-- so that’ll be 9 minutes and 16 seconds.”

I was already positioning myself for ease of doing just that, feet planted and legs wide, my crotch just off the ground with my back supporting me, and my hand gripping the cane tightly in apparent preparation for what she’d just described.

“Don’t be confused-- you read notes that will make you do things you don’t want to do all the time, you just don’t remember a lot of them. It keeps things interesting. You’ll find that your hand is quite happy to cane you down there for as long as I tell you to. You read that very instruction just yesterday when the cane arrived, and now you’re going to do as you’re told.”

And I did. I wasn’t gentle. I saw Rebecca start the timer as the first mark across my slit started to show. I went straight from the heights of pleasure to the utmost of pain in mere seconds. It was unbearable. The cane next struck my clit hard, the tender flesh visibly pulsating as waves of pain settled in. Rebecca watched on, making herself more comfortable, the countdown timer always visible. It was going down so incredibly slowly.

Again the cane hit its target, one strike after the other, always in a slightly different spot-- red marks quickly threading across my cunt. It had been frequently shocked for most of the day, then flung entirely in the other direction by Rebecca’s tongue, who had expertly caressed and worked it up first to arousal, and then to outright excitement, wet and glistening in readiness. And now I was mercilessly caning my own pussy, inducing the most intense of pain to the most sensitive of areas. It was a torturous roller-coaster of extreme sensations, and I still had 8 minutes of caning left to perform.

“Did you feel really used today, Naughty?” Rebecca started to chide me, propped up on one elbow besides me, “Did you get fucked in the ass really hard?”

I clenched my teeth as Rebecca continued, and as the lances rained down on my defenceless cunt, each slash as painful as the last.

“Did they make you wait until they could be bothered to use you again? Did they fuck your pretty little mouth?”

Still 7 minutes to go, and there were already dozens of red marks clearly visible. The worse ones lay across my clit which was an agonisingly large target. The pain was regular and endless.

“Did they cum in your ass, Naughty? Did they cum in your mouth? Did the fat ugly men get to do what ever they wanted to you?”

As Rebecca dredged up all of the shame I felt about being fucked by those complete strangers, I noticed a gradual change in how each lashing felt as it landed. With around 5 minutes still left on the clock, I knew I was panting in something akin to desperation, my body throbbing with the overwhelming pain, my entire cunt a patchwork of crimson marks.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow? I’m going to loan you out to another random guy tomorrow. For the entire day.”

That finally pushed me over the edge. The next lash triggered something that I couldn’t really describe: an excruciating full-body experience that rippled from head to toe, my feet curling up as if I’d hit orgasm. But this was different-- instead of acute pleasure it was like a blanket of pain that overrode my senses, and I would have thrashed about on the spot had I been able. It was so intense and lingering and so like an orgasm in all but the most key aspect: it wasn’t remotely pleasurable. But it was a kind of relief all the same, as if all the pain gathering up until that point were washed away. I was sweating and a little dizzy, and everything felt more sensitive than ever. It was entirely like I’d just had a really fucked-up orgasm.

“Good girl, Naughty! See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? We’re going to call that a ‘shame-gasm’, because I think the name kind of fits. Did you like it? I think you liked it. But do you think you can give yourself another one in the time you have left..? Still 3 minutes on the clock.”

She picked up what looked like a television remote. “Let’s give you some real motivation.”

The large television screen opposite the bed sprang to life-- and whilst still coming down from whatever that was that I’d just experienced-- I was confronted immediately by a moving image of myself sandwiched between two men, each roughly handling one end of my body, a cock in both my ass and my mouth, obediently allowing those holes to be ravaged without opposition. I was forced to listen once more to their grunts and exasperations as they fucked me, and the cane came down on my cunt to viciously remind me that the timer was still ticking down.

“Keep watching, Naughty. And they’re probably watching you right now, by the way. They’re just regular viewers who got lucky and won the chance to play with you in person.”

The lashings continued as Rebecca spoke, inflicting the utmost of harm to my body as her words fucked with my mind.

“All the lucky guys who will be getting to play with you have already been picked out for the next month or so. You’re going to be very busy. Sometimes you’ll even be taken straight to the next location rather than come home,” she smiled as the cane struck my clit three times in a row, causing excruciating pain to ripple outwards “There are viewers watching you right now that will be fucking your ass within the next few weeks, how exciting is that?”

Only a minute and a half remained, but I was panting again, the pain building towards that twisted something. My pussy was a mess, bruised and swollen and covered in sharp red marks caused by the cane. The clitoris was unnaturally engorged and was struck more often than not, dozens of throbbing slices visible across its distended surface.

“Thank those two guys for fucking your ass, Naughty. Look into the camera over there and thank them for using you really really well.”

I broke my vision free from the screen long enough to stare into the camera and do exactly as she instructed, “Thank you for fucking my ass,” I apparently managed with zero enthusiasm, not realising that she could make me say things like that. There was less than a minute left now, and the incessant self-caning was clearly stirring something up inside me. It was akin to building towards an orgasm, the lingering pain consuming my entire body.

“Beg for permission to have a shame-gasm, Naughty, I know you’re getting close. And watch them fuck you.”

I didn’t stand a chance, the shame really was welling up to consume me, forced to endure the violation again so vividly, and to thank them for what they did to me. The pain in my cunt became so excruciating, the lashes more urgent, and I knew she was right.

“Oh, fuck, please can I have a shame-gasm!”

“Yes you can, Naughty-- and perfect timing.”

The shame-gasm engulfed me as the last of the lashings hit its mark, the timer reaching zero and the torture of my poor cunt finally completed. My body convulsed with the overwhelming sensation, every nerve ending on fire, the blanket of sheer unfathomable pain lasting for upwards of half a minute, my beaten cunt throbbing uncontrollably. As it finally settled down, the pain fell to a more gentle level, while my clit burned and my hole felt strangely wet and uncomfortable. It had been the most powerful sensation that I’d ever felt, and despite no part of it being typically pleasurable, my body made me savour some twisted part of it regardless.

Rebecca brought up a new timer on her phone, and leant herself down between my legs just like before.

“OK, now I want to see if you can hold out longer than 44 seconds. I don’t think you want another 9 minutes or so of caning, do you?”

Unbelievably, Rebecca then reached down and began licking me again. The cane remained tightly in hand, ready to deal the further torment which was clearly about to come, and my eyes were forced to watch the huge screen on the bedroom wall as the video looped around and those perverted assholes started to shove their cocks into me. It seemed impossible that my pussy could react to her efforts a second time, especially after such an intense caning, but if anything the opposite was true. It was unbearably pleasurable. I didn’t know how long it had been already, but her tongue knew exactly what to do, and how to lick me to achieve maximum results. I was rapidly driven to abundant wetness, my punished clit more tender than ever, and an easy target for her fluttering tongue. It didn’t matter that my earlier violation continued to cruelly play out in front of me, the arousal just kept rising and rising. Her tongue was just so fucking good. I desperately wanted to know how long we had been going so far, because all sense of time had abandoned me, and I was already feeling far too good. Rebecca was right-- I really didn’t want to have to endure another 9 minutes of that punishment. The cane was far too effective an instrument of pain to want even a handful of lashes, let alone nearly 10 minutes worth of them.

But she was highly motivated to convince me otherwise. She wanted me to give in to that rising torrent of pleasure as quickly as possible so that she could watch me punish myself for most of that 10 minute period instead. My body sought to betray me, enthralled by the actions of her tongue and lips. Meanwhile, the men were fucking me so hard on the screen just beyond the bed. How long had I held out so far? Little ripples of pleasure began to extend beyond my cunt, and the escalation to climax started to feel inevitable. I was trembling from the effort of trying to deny to myself what my body most definitely wanted, or rather, needed. She frantically licked my hole, tongued my clit, and watched me squirm without really being able to move away from her, unable to prevent the climax that now seemed to be thrusting itself upon me. I was already shamefully so near; perilously close to a completely normal and ordinary orgasm, the likes of which I barely even remembered.

Rebecca took a moment away from skilfully pleasuring my pussy to look up at me, “Congratulations, you’re beating 44 seconds this time!” She then went straight back to it. How had it been less than a minute and I was already so horny that I felt like I would cum any second if I wasn’t actively trying not to. Every part of my body was ready to orgasm, but I somehow held it at bay. This was such a mind fuck, desperately trying not to over-indulge myself whilst feeling so fucking good. Nobody would’ve been able to resist pleasure like this. Only the threat of the cane was giving me the strength to keep going, but I wanted to let go so bad. It wasn’t natural at all to refuse to let your body cum, and there was only so long before I wouldn’t have a say in it any more. But my body wasn’t going to get what it wanted regardless, because Rebecca would surely pull away at the last possible moment and leave me as sexually frustrated as possible.

Barely a minute after her last announcement she did exactly that, waiting until the last second to stop licking my cunt and leaving me absolutely frantic with desire whilst she repositioned herself to one side of the bed.

“1 minute and 38 seconds that time. It’s an improvement, but not much of one, is it, Naughty?

And so the clock ticked down from a whopping 8 minutes and 22 seconds as fresh marks started to appear across my pussy. The video looped around again, and I was made to watch as the men started to take me from both ends, manhandling me roughly as they did so, my hair grabbed tightly to draw me onto his cock and keep it there. The man behind me spanked my ass as he shoved his cock into me. Rebecca reached for the nearby bowl of cum as the caning continued, merrily bringing a fresh spoonful up to my lips.

“So you can be told to repeat something out loud, you know that already,” she held the spoon just out of reach as she spoke, “But when you’re told to beg for something, it works a little differently. For example-- beg to eat this spoonful of cum.”

I struck my clit as she finished speaking, barely really capable of digesting what she was saying as she taunted me. “Please let me eat that spoonful of cum.” I managed tentatively, another lashing delivered immediately afterwards, the cane striking my throbbing clit again. She made no effort to slip the spoon inside my mouth, instead turning to watch the screen for a while.

“Please can I eat that spoonful of cum.” I tried again, more keenly this time. Still she let the spoon linger just short of my mouth, the retched smell wafting into flaring nostrils. Something was happening to me that was phenomenally difficult to explain, because I was suddenly very aware that I really did need to swallow that load of cum.

“Oh, fuck, please can I swallow that load of cum,” I burst out, much louder than before, another lashing striking my clit and leaving me wincing with the pain for a moment, before I found myself trying again, “Please, please, please can I swallow it.” Despite the agony of the enforced self-caning, I still managed to feel this unfathomable emptiness that only being allowed to eat that disgusting load would fill. I just felt so wrong, and uncomfortable-- irritable, even, and the feeling just seemed to be growing the longer she left the spoon just shy of where I needed it to go.

“Oh, fucking fuck, please can I eat that spoonful of cum! I’ll do anything! Just let me eat it!”

“Sorry,” she said plainly, “did you say that you want this absolute filthy cum to go in your mouth?”

“Yes!” I almost shouted, as if sensing I was close to getting what I apparently desperately needed in that moment, “yes, please, I want it. I really do!”

She smiled, and continued to taunt me, the spoon almost against my lips, “You want to eat this mixture of cum gathered from hundreds of smelly perverts wanking off to your videos? I wouldn’t put that in my mouth for a million pounds.”

I somehow continued to strike my clit in almost the same place again, but the pain was somehow overwhelmed by my growing desperation to eat that load of cum, “Yes! I really want to eat it, please let me, I’ll do anything you want!”

“I don’t know if you deserve it, Naughty. I thought you considered yourself too good to eat this kind of thing, but maybe you’re not?”

“No, I’m really not! I definitely deserve to eat it!”

“Really? You’re a bit of a cum slut?”

“Yes! I’m such a fucking cum slut. Please, please, please feed me that spoonful of cum!”

And with that, she finally pushed the spoon inside my mouth and let me hungrily devour its contents. I swallowed it faster than I ever had before, and was instantly hit by the reality of this new low point. I could feel another shame-gasm rising to the fore as the seemingly ever-present caning raked away at my pussy, and the abject humiliation of genuinely begging to eat cum on top of that was just too much. Rebecca raised another spoonful to my mouth.

“Beg to eat this load of cum.”

The timer still had 6 minutes on the clock as the first shame-gasm tore through me, almost in sync with the guy shooting his load into my ass on the screen before me, grunting with the abundant pleasure of his release. As I came back down from that highly fucked-up experience, the void was quickly refilled with the lashing that continued unabated, joined then by the gnawing and massively uncomfortable sensation of being made to wait once more for the next spoonful of cum, my pleas left unheard until she had built me up to a sufficiently genuine desperation. After torturously long minutes of taunting and making me tell her what a total cum slut I was-- which I completely believed in the moment-- she finally fed me the next spoonful.

“Beg to swallow every drop of cum left in this bowl and lick it completely clean afterwards.”

The bowl was probably still around one third full, which was probably like a hundred or more spoonfuls worth. The knowledge that I definitely would be really begging for it just moments from now, and then actually have to do go through such a disgusting act in order to satisfy the instruction was maddening. Another shame-gasm felt perilously close, this absurd concoction of raw pain and utter humiliation making them easier than ever to achieve. I began to beg to empty the contents of the bowl into my mouth, unmotivated at first, then rapidly more keen as she denied what I pleaded for. The deplorable shame-gasm tore through my body around the 3 minute mark, though I was in full swing and desperation by then, begging to be allowed to further deprave myself even as the ripples of pain coursed through me.

And then she did something completely unexpected: she got up off the bed and took the bowl with her out of the bedroom. She came back shortly afterwards without it, and propped herself back up comfortably on the bed beside me, pillows arranged to support her slender form.

My eyes were wide and incredulous. I was gagging to swallow everything in that bowl, and now it was gone, presumably returned to the fridge where it was typically stored.

“Please can this filthy cum slut empty the bowl of cum into her mouth! And I’ll lick it clean, I really will! It’ll be so fucking clean after I lick it all up!” I tried, somehow knowing that my efforts would be futile.

“I’ll let you guzzle it down first thing in the morning, Naughty. It’s not that I don’t think you want it, but by then you’ll really really want it. So you’ll just have to wait.”

The sense of loss and emptiness that I felt was extreme-- next morning was just so far away. I wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else until then. I felt a whimper escape my lips as this predicament overcame whatever mental barriers I still had left, and the ongoing caning of my cunt did the rest-- lurching me straight towards a suddenly very prominent shame-gasm, coming barely a minute since the last. My body ached from the continued abuse, and the mind games had me truly flailing. I was so hungry for the bowl of cum that my mouth seemed to go dry, my lips sticky. I kept wondering if there was anything I could say that would convince Rebecca to feed me it now rather than make me wait, but I also seemed to know that I shouldn’t push the issue once she’d made a decision.

“I bet you’d really like a break after you finish caning yourself?”

I nodded almost far too keenly. There was still a whole minute to go, and my entire pussy was covered in painful marks, every inch of it throbbing and over-stimulated-- the self-inflicted lashes never seeming to decrease in persistence nor intensity, no matter how much my cunt suffered.

“Hmm. I think you want more.” She smiled at me mischievously. “Beg me to lick your cunt again after you’re finished. Beg me to lick it so good that you won’t even make it to a minute.”

She was so good at breaking me down so completely, it seemed-- because I was instantly propelled to yet another disturbing shame-gasm as the cane struck its totally bare and vulnerable target.