Brianna laid down on her bed and cried again. Her pain and her hangover had left her exhausted, so even though it was mid-morning, she dozed off to a troubled and inadequate sleep.

She woke up in the early afternoon. Fear gripped her. This new rule to whip herself when she didn’t accept male propositions would break her. She needed to get rid of it. Her agent Tony had told her to go to this so-called psych evaluation. Tony had no idea what it did to her, as far as she knew. Tony had always been good to her before. She couldn’t tell anyone what they had done to her in the evaluation, but it would be reasonable to mention the evaluation to Tony. Maybe she could give him some hints that she was in trouble. She sent a quick message to Tony.

« Tony, did you get the psych eval results? »

In less than a minute she got a reply.

« Sure did. I know all about the results. I knew you’d be a successful subject. I am your mentor. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow. I’m sure our next discussion will be revealing. »

Uh oh. Tony must have known what would happen to her before she went. He had betrayed her. That bastard. Now she knew who her mentor was. Her rules said that she would have to meet naked with her mentor every week for an hour. His message was too vague to report. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t complain about or report sexual harassment. Her terrible new rules would also give her a big incentive to agree to any sexual proposition he made.

There was only one way to get rid of these terrible two new rules: she had get fucked by a new man. She didn’t want to be fucked by another random stranger. If she had to be fucked by a new man, she’d rather the man be her own choice. Someone she knew.

She opened her phone and began scanning through her contacts. She had a number of acquaintances, though less than someone might think given her beauty. She’d spent a lot of time working. Keeping friends while busy was hard. Her beauty also caused complications. A lot of women viewed her as a threat, either to their careers or to keeping their boyfriends. So her female so-called friendships were shallow. Men were complicated, too. Their significant others viewed Brianna as a threat. So attached men were careful to not be too friendly. Unattached men usually only wanted her naked body in their bed.

She did want a boyfriend, but her desires made things complicated. She wanted a boyfriend who strongly espoused feminism, but she often couldn’t respect those men. There were men whose presence got her wet, but they tended to be strong forceful types. She didn’t dare call a forceful aggressive man in her current condition.

She broke out of her reverie and scanned her contacts. No, no, no.

Brianna paused. She had always tried to avoid being dependent on men. She hired men like Tony, yes, but she hired them. She didn’t want to be a damsel in distress.

She was going to figure out how to escape this problem all by herself. She didn’t need some man’s help.

Now that she was feeling better, at least physically, Brianna wondered if she could figure out some way to beat her rules. She wasn’t sure how they worked. She tried to remember what they had said at the psych evaluation. Her memory was fragmentary. She could remember some things. They’d said she needed to learn to be submissive to men and be put in her place. The “put in her place” part seemed to imply that humiliation and being degraded were part of this. They said she needed to learn to please men and be sexually responsive. They had said her subconscious would come up with the rules. That was concerning. She’d always been proud of her creativity. Her own creativity meant she couldn’t predict the next rules. Even worse, her subconscious best knew what would bring her to heel.

She tried to think though some of the logic of some of the rules. The rules about singles bars and mentor meetings meant she couldn’t hide in her home. She would have to go out and risk receiving a sexual proposition. The singles bar rule required her to get drunk two nights in a row, followed by a break of up to four days. She wouldn’t be able to have a consistent weekly pattern without a lot of drinking. She enjoyed the occasional drink, but she normally avoided getting drunk in public. She knew a pretty girl could get herself in a lot of trouble by getting drunk in public. The rules were designed to put her in risky situations.

She needed to experiment. Maybe, she thought, she could find a workaround. Some rules might be dangerous or painful to experiment with, but the no-panties rule seemed like something she could safely experiment with. She was in her bedroom, so it would be easy to test too. As far as she knew the rule was simply that she couldn’t wear panties, but there was more to it. She had been unable to put on pants as well. So she stripped naked and went to her dresser. She started trying out some clothes.

She tried to put on some panties, but as soon as her toe almost entered the leg hole she froze and couldn’t put them on. That was as expected. She tried putting on her panties in various ways and angles, with no success. She pulled out a thong and tried to put it on. She couldn’t put the thong on either. Clearly the rule wasn’t limited to literally panties. She pulled out some pantyhose. She couldn’t even put the pantyhose around her toes.

She tried jeans, dress slacks, sweatpants, and shorts. She couldn’t wear any of them. How about a long skirt? She couldn’t wear the long skirt either. She had been wearing short dresses, so she knew she could wear those. She pulled out a short flowing skirt. She confirmed that she had no problem putting it on. She stripped naked again. How about socks? Again, not a problem. She arranged chairs and books so she could jump into her panties from the bed. She stood on the bed, readied herself to jump into them… and found she couldn’t jump into them. Her subconscious knew what was she was trying to do and prevented it.

The rule was more than wearing no panties, even though that’s the rule she could remember. She wondered. Perhaps there a more complicated wording hidden behind “no panties”? It didn’t make sense. Why would the rule she remembered be so different from the rule she was compelled to obey? The rule seemed to be more about making her cunt easily accessible to being touched by men.

She thought and realized the rules weren’t some sort of legal code or magic incantation or computer program where the exact wording mattered. Her subconscious was not forcing her to obey some literal rules, but compelling her to obey the intent of the rules. So her subconscious was interpreting “no panties” as being about keeping her cunt easily accessible to men. She looked down at her cunt. She had to agree that a rule that forced her to have her cunt easily accessible to men certainly encouraged…

She found herself marching to the bathroom, an unwilling prisoner in her own body. She saw herself grab her shaving gel and razor. Her body turned on the shower. Now it was clear. Her no-panties rule was about making her cunt accessible. Her subconscious must have realized her cunt had hair on it and thus was not accessible enough to men. She found herself carefully and thoroughly shaving her cunt until it was bare like the moon and as smooth as silk. The shaving hurt due to her recent abuse of her own cunt, but she did it even though it hurt. As soon as the shaving was done she was released. She knew she had to keep her cunt totally smooth from now on. From now on her cunt would always be bare so men could access it easily and completely.

Experimenting with the no-panties rule wasn’t as safe as she’d thought. Concentrating on the meaning of the rule had led her to implement additional consequences.

This was bad. She had hoped she would find a loophole. If her subconscious was enforcing each rule’s intent, preferring humiliating or degrading interpretations, a subtle loophole in a rule’s wording wouldn’t help her. Even if she managed to briefly break a rule, her subconscious would probably make her fix it, and in a humiliating way if possible. The rules she remembered weren’t exactly the rules she was compelled to obey. This made the rules harder to counter. Trying to figure out a rule could even make the rule worse.

She didn’t see any way to escape. She was her own jailer. Her jailer not only interpreted the rules and made her obey them, but her jailer also carefully monitored her every thought. Even worse, her jailer was a sadistic bitch.