Christian Cooper was a hypnotherapist - but an entirely unethical one.  He had learned the art of hypnosis to take control of pretty women, to fuck up their minds, fuck up their lives, and often simply to fuck them.

 

He wasn’t a *monster*, though.  He aimed to leave the women happier than when he had started - or at least more satisfied and at peace with their lives.

 

He didn’t take patients directly.  He had a referral network from other therapists, who had some awareness of what he did.  When a therapist encountered a pretty female patient with a complex issue, they would refer her to Christian.  They would supplement the patient’s fees with a substantial donation of their own, and Christian would do what he did with the girl - which would inevitably result in the referring therapist getting to fuck the girl at least once by the time he was done.

 

His last customer was 20-year-old Dani Horrocks, who was referred for rape trauma.  Over two months starting on her 18th birthday, her father had repeatedly raped her, prior to his arrest and imprisonment.  Now Dani was suffering from a range of mental health conditions arising from her abuse.

 

To Christian’s mind, her problem was simple.  Her trauma arose from the disconnect between her perceived identity as a nice girl who wasn’t an incestuous rapeslut, and the reality of her rape.  It was the friction between those conflicting ideas that caused her pain.

 

On her first session, he took her quickly into a hypnotic trance, and then regarded her as she sat on his couch.  She had long light-brown hair, a pretty face - some might say “kissable” - and large breasts concealed beneath a heavy sweater.  Her eyes were open, but unfocused, looking at a point somewhere over his shoulder.  Her lips were party slightly in a very sexy way.

 

“Can you hear me, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“Yes,” she said sleepily.

 

“Good girl,” he said.

 

She flinched.

 

“Is something wrong, Dani?” he asked.

 

“My daddy called me good girl,” she said uncomfortably.

 

Christian had to be careful.  Hypnosis had limits.  It required a degree of consent.  If Dani felt too uncomfortable, she would come out of trance, or begin to block Christian’s suggestions.

 

“Why do you think he did that, Dani?” asked Christian cautiously.

 

Dani paused for a moment, still looking uncomfortable.

 

Finally, she spoke.

 

“Because he loves me,” said Dani.

 

“That’s right, Dani,” said Christian soothingly.  “Your daddy loves you.”

 

He didn’t honestly know that Dani’s father *did* love her.  It was possible he only saw her as a big-titted fucktoy.  That was certainly how Christian saw her.  But part of his technique involved crosswiring confusing thoughts in his subject’s brain, and it would help him to remind Dani that her abuser loved her.

 

“When you hear the words ‘good girl’, it reminds you of how your daddy loves you, doesn’t it?” he said.

 

She squirmed, and took a while to respond again.

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“You like being loved, don’t you, Dani?” he asked.

 

Her response was faster now.  “Yes.”

 

“It feels nice to remember you’re loved, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” she said again, quickly.

 

“When you hear ‘good girl’, it feels nice, because your daddy loves you,” said Christian.  Not a question.  He waited to see how she would respond.

 

It only took her a moment.

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“Good girl,” said Christian - and he was rewarded by a confused blush of pleasure on Dani’s face.

 

“Dani, don’t you think it’s uncomfortably hot in here?” he asked.

 

She took the suggestion, and her skin immediately flushed.

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“I think you’d be cooler and more comfortable if you took off your sweater and your shirt,” said Christian.  “Would you like to be cooler?”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Take off your sweater and your shirt,” said Christian.

 

And Dani immediately did - peeling them off, leaving her large tits covered only by a pink cotton bra.  As soon as her clothes were off, she squirmed again, and her hands went to cover her breasts.

 

“Good girl,” said Christian.  And then, “Dani, why are you covering your breasts?”

 

“It’s embarrassing,” said Dani.  Her eyes were still fixed somewhere on the wall behind him.

 

“Why is it embarrassing?” asked Christian.

 

“Because they’re big,” said Dani, blushing.

 

“What do you think people will think if they see your breasts?” asked Christian.

 

“That they’re disgusting,” said Dani.  “That I’m disgusting.  That I’m a slut.”

 

“Do you think they’ll think about fucking you, Dani?” asked Christian.

 

She made a distressed sound, and nodded a little.

 

“They can’t help it, can they, Dani?” said Christian.  “They can’t help but think about fucking you if they see your tits.  Isn’t that right?”

 

“Yes,” said Dani, sounding unhappy.

 

“What do they think about when they see your tits?” asked Christian.

 

“Fucking me,” said Dani quietly.

 

“They can’t help it,” said Christian.  “You make them think that, because your tits are so big.  Isn’t that right, Dani?”

 

She made the distressed sound again.

 

“It’s your fault, isn’t it, Dani?” said Christian again, pushing.

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“What’s your fault, Dani?” he asked.

 

“It’s my fault people think about fucking me when they see my breasts,” said Dani.

 

“That’s right,” said Christian.  “Good girl.”  He paused.  “Dani, have you ever heard people call breasts gross things?  Crude names?”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“What do they call them, Dani?” he asked.

 

“Melons,” she said.  “Udders.  Hooters.  Knockers.”  She paused, then went on.  “Slut-handles.  Fuckbags.  Whore balloons.”

 

“Why do you think people call them that, Dani?” he asked.

 

She was silent.

 

“They think those are good names for breasts, don’t they?” said Christian.

 

“Yes.”

 

“They’re accurate, aren’t they?” said Christian.  “They describe your breasts well, don’t they?”

 

Dani whimpered.

 

“In your head, you think about those words sometimes, don’t you, Dani?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she admitted.

 

“Because you know they’re good words, don’t you?” asked Christian.

 

She whimpered again.

 

“You sound silly when you call them breasts, don’t you, Dani?” he said.  “You sound prim and prudish, don’t you?”

 

She continued to whimper.

 

Christian considered backing off.  He was betting she was receptive to this - but if he was wrong, and kept pushing, he could trigger her resistance, and ruin his progress.

 

He decided to take a chance.

 

“You sound stupid when you call them breasts, don’t you, Dani?” he said.  “Breasts is a word for babies.  It makes you sound like a baby.  You sound ridiculous, don’t you?”

 

He crossed his fingers.

 

There was a long pause, then: “Yes.”

 

“You sound stupid when you use words for your body that are polite, don’t you?” he pressed.

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“People laugh at you when you call them breasts, or even tits,” he said.  “Those are baby words.”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“What’s the best name for them, Dani?” he asked.

 

A long silence, then, in a very small voice, “Whore balloons.”

 

“That’s how you’re going to think of them in your own head, aren’t you, Dani?” said Christian.  “That’s your special word for them, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“You’re going to slowly forget the word ‘breasts’, aren’t you, Dani?” said Christian.  “Every time you think of your whore balloons you’re going to forget the word ‘breasts’ a little more.”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Good girl,” said Christian, and watched her blush with pleasure.

 

“Dani,” he said, “I need to see your whore balloons.  It’s important.”

 

She squirmed, still looking over his shoulder.

 

“Why?” she asked.

 

Christian frowned.  He didn’t like her questioning him.  It was the edge of rebellion.  But he had a tool that sometimes worked for questions like this.

 

“Why do you think?” he replied.

 

“Because… we’ve been talking about them,” she said.  “You need to see how disgusting they are.”

 

He smiled.  Sluts could be surprisingly good at justifying their own abuse.

 

“That’s right, Dani,” he said.  “It’s important for making you better.  You want to be better, don’t you?”

 

She nodded.

 

“So I need you to show me your whore balloons,” he said.  “Take off your bra.”

 

She whimpered - but her hands moved, undoing the catch in the front of her bra, and pulling aside the cups to reveal her large tits.

 

They were stunning.  Truly first-class.

 

“They’re ugly,” he said, his voice full of contempt.  “They’re so disgusting, Dani.  You’re such a slut.”

 

He watched her flinch, hard - but it was only confirming what she already thought.

 

“You have disgusting whore balloons, Dani,” he said.  “They’re huge and slutty.  And they make me feel things.  Do you know what they make me think about, Dani?”

 

“Yes,” she whimpered.  Her gaze had shifted, to look down at the floor.

 

“What do they make me think about, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“Fucking me,” she said.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s very bad behaviour, Dani,” he said.  “I’m just trying to help you, but you made me think about fucking you.  Do you think nice girls do that?”

 

“No,” said Dani.

 

“What do you think I’m thinking about specifically, Dani?” said Christian.  “How am I thinking about fucking you?”

 

“You’re thinking about… squeezing my whore balloons,” said Dani.  “And putting your dick in my vagina.”

 

“Dani,” said Christian sternly.  “I thought we talked about not using baby words.  Vagina is a baby word.  I want you to think about the degrading words men use for that part of you, and tell me what it should be called.”

 

She paused, thinking and blushing.

 

“Cunt,” she said.

 

That was good, but she could do better, he suspected.

 

“That’s a confusing word, Dani,” he said.  “Because men call *you* a cunt, don’t they?”

 

She squeaked.  “Yes,” she admitted.

 

“And if you say cunt, I won’t know if you’re talking about your hole, or yourself, will I?” he said.

 

“No,” she said.

 

“But cunt is a good word for a woman, isn’t it?” said Christian.  “It’s an appropriate word, isn’t it?”

 

She squirmed, but said, “Yes.”

 

“Can you think of other good words for a woman like you, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“Bitch,” she said.  “Slut.  Whore.”

 

“That’s right,” said Christian.  “Those are the words you use to think of yourself and other women, aren’t they?  Because you’re a grown up and you don’t use baby words.”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“That’s how you think of women in your head, Dani,” said Christian.  “Cunt.  Bitch.  Slut.  Whore.  And the more you think of those words, the more you forget the words ‘girl’ and ‘woman’.  You don’t need those words anymore.”

 

“Yes…” she said slowly.

 

“What are you, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“A cunt,” said Dani.

 

“And if your daddy had known you were a big girl who could use big girl words, he would have called you a good cunt, wouldn’t he?” asked Christian.

 

“Mmmmm…” said Dani.

 

“Can you picture your daddy calling you a good cunt, Dani?  Can you see how much he loves you, to call you that?  Picture him loving you and calling you a good cunt.”

 

She squirmed and blushed.

 

“Good cunt,” said Christian - and he knew his ideas had taken when he saw that same blush of pleasure on her face.

 

“Now we need a better name for the hole between your legs, Dani,” he said.  “Because ‘cunt’ is confusing.  Can you think of a better name for it?  A more honest name?”

 

She was silent as she thought.

 

“Rapehole,” she said finally.

 

That would do.

 

“Rapehole,” he repeated.  “Good cunt.  Dani, do you think it’s fair that you forced me to think of putting my dick into your rapehole?”

 

“No,” said Dani.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s particularly unfair because I have to *imagine* your rapehole,” said Christian.  “I’ve never seen it.  I have to do a lot of work to imagine that, and it’s making it very hard to concentrate on making you better.  Do you think a good cunt would do that to me, Dani?”

 

“No,” whispered Dani.

 

“Do you want to be a good cunt, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Then I need you to show me your rapehole, Dani,” he said.  “Take off your skirt and panties.”

 

There was no resistance this time.  She wiggled her skirt under her butt, and then pulled it and her panties down her legs, and kicked them off.

 

“Spread your legs so I can see, Dani,” said Christian.

 

She did, parting her knees and giving him a perfect view of her twat.  He noted with approval that it was shaved - and with interest that it was a little wet.

 

He took out his phone and took a picture of her like that, for his records.

 

“Why is it called a rapehole, Dani?” he asked.

 

“Because men want to…” she began, and then paused.

 

“Rape it?” prompted Christian.

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“When do they want to rape it, Dani?” he asked.

 

“When they see it,” she said.  “When they think about it.”

 

“Whose fault is it that they think that, Dani?” he asked.

 

She made a little choking sound, and then said, “Mine.”

 

“I’m thinking about raping you right now, Dani,” said Christian.  “You made me think about raping you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” whimpered Dani.

 

“Is it reasonable to expect men to control themselves when you show them your rapehole, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

“I can’t control myself, and I’m a professional,” said Christian.  “I’m going to have to take out my cock and stroke it.  Because of you, Dani.”

 

“I’m sorry,” whimpered Dani again.

 

Christian unzipped his fly, took out his cock, and began to stroke it gently while looking at the nude big-titted girl in front of him.

 

“You’re making me do this, Dani,” he told her.  “By showing me your whore balloons and your rapehole.”

 

“I’m sorry,” repeated Dani.

 

“Did you know that your rapehole is wet, Dani?” asked Christian.

 

She paused, and then, “Yes.”

 

“Why is your rapehole wet, Dani?” he asked her.

 

“Because… you keep talking about it.  And my whore balloons.  And you made me take off my clothes…”

 

“I didn’t make you do anything,” said Christian.  “Showing me your whore balloons was your idea, remember?  After you took off your top because it was too hot.  It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

 

She was confused, but she said, “Yes…”

 

“And you wanted to show me your rapehole so it would be easier for me to imagine raping you,” added Christian.

 

“Yes,” said Dani.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“You want to touch your rapehole, don’t you, Dani?” he said.  “To feel how wet it is.  It’s okay.  You can touch it.”

 

One of her hands went to her pussy.  She traced the cleft of her twat with one finger, gasping as it ran over her clitoris.

 

“It’s okay to rub it, Dani,” said Christian.  “Your daddy would want you to rub it.”

 

She flinched at the mention of her father - but continued to rub her cunt.  Her finger ran from her clitoris down to her fuckhole, pushing inside briefly, before moving back up to her clit.

 

“You get wet when you make men think about raping you, don’t you, Dani?” said Christian.

 

“No…” she objected.

 

He pursed his lips.  He was so close to fixing her.  It was frustrating to encounter resistance here.

 

“You touch yourself sometimes when you’re wet, don’t you, Dani?” he asked.

 

“Mmm,” she said.  And then, “Yes.”

 

“And you think about sexy things when you touch yourself, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” she admitted.

 

“And sometimes you think about men forcing you,” he said.  “Making you have sex with them.  Don’t you?”

 

It was a good gamble.  Most women did, from time to time.

 

“Yes,” she breathed.

 

“You get turned on by the thought of men raping you,” he said.

 

‘Yes,” she agreed.

 

“Rape make you aroused,” he pushed.

 

“Yes,” she agreed.

 

Now it was time to connect the dots.  He pumped his cock as he watched her masturbate.

 

“Did your daddy ever see your whore balloons or your rapehole after your 18th birthday, Dani?” he asked her.

 

She squirmed, and stopped rubbing her cunt.  “Mmmm…” she said non-committally.

 

“Did he ever see your whore balloons or rapehole?” he asked.  “Did you ever show them off to your daddy?”

 

“I used to swim in the pool in a bikini,” she said.  “And… he would look at me.”

 

“He looked at your whore-balloons in the pool?” asked Christian.  “Because you were showing them off in a bikini?”

 

She made a distressed sound - but she was masturbating again.  “Yes,” she said.

 

“And what did that do to him, Dani?” asked Christian.

 

“It made him… think about fucking me,” said Dani, in a small voice.

 

“Whose fault is that?” asked Christian.

 

“Mine,” said Dani quietly.

 

“You made your own daddy think about fucking you, because you were slutting around in a bikini that showed off your whore balloons?” Christian clarified.

 

She whimpered and looked like she might cry - but she was still masturbating.

 

“Yes,” she said.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“And did he ever see your rapehole, Dani?” Christian asked.

 

“He walked in on me in the shower one time,” said Dani.  “And he just looked at me.”

 

“You showed him your rapehole?” asked Christian.

 

“Yes,” whimpered Dani.

 

“And what did that do to him?” asked Christian.

 

“It made him think about raping me,” said Dani.  “It made him think about… putting his dick in my rapehole.”

 

“And whose fault was that?” asked Christian.

 

“Mine,” sobbed Dani.  She was crying now - but masturbating harder.

 

“And you got really aroused at the thought of your daddy raping you, didn’t you?” said Christian.  “Because you’re a slut.”

 

Dani whimpered, and shook her head.

 

“Dani, you agreed that you get aroused from rape,” said Christian.  “You said that.  And you’re rubbing your rapehole right now as you talk about this.  Do you really think it could possibly be true that you didn’t get aroused at the thought of your daddy raping you?”

 

She whimpered.

 

“It made you incredibly wet that your daddy wanted to rape you, didn’t it, Dani?” he said.  “Don’t you remember that?  How wet you were?  How warm your body was?  When he saw your rapehole?”

 

Of course she would have been warm and wet - she was taking a hot shower.  But he hoped the sensations could be confused for her…

 

“Yes,” she admitted.

 

“Warm and wet when your daddy saw your rapehole,” he repeated.  “Warm and wet because your daddy wanted to rape you.”

 

“Yes,” she sobbed.

 

“He saw that, didn’t he?” asked Christian.  “That you were wet for him?”

 

There was no response, but Christian was satisfied enough that she was thinking about it.

 

“Your daddy is a good man, Dani,” he said.  “He loves you.  He thinks you’re a good cunt.  He would never hurt you.”

 

Her sobbing intensified.

 

“He would never have raped you if you hadn’t shown off your whore balloons, and if you hadn’t shown him your rapehole, and if you hadn’t been obviously wet for him,” said Christian.

 

She made an incoherent sound.

 

“He couldn’t help himself after that,” said Christian.  “It was your fault he raped you, wasn’t it?  You made him do it, didn’t you?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“He saw that you were aroused by showing your rapehole to your own daddy,” said Christian.  “You made him.  It was your fault.  Say it.  It was your fault.”

 

There was a long silence.

 

Then:  “Yes.  I made him do it.  I made my daddy rape me.  It’s my fault.”

 

“And you liked it, didn’t you?” said Christian.

 

She tried to shake her head.

 

“Then why was your rapehole wet for him, Dani?” asked Christian.  “Why was your rapehole wet when your daddy fucked you?”

 

“It wasn’t…” said Dani.

 

“Of course it was,” said Christian.  “How could it not be?  You get wet for rape, remember.  You’re rubbing your own rapehole as you think about it right now.  Do you remember?  It was such a surprise when your daddy raped you - but it was so good.  You were so excited.  Your fantasy was finally happening.  Come on, Dani - you must have been wet.  If you were dry, your daddy would have stopped and apologised.  But he saw how wet you were for him.”

 

“No…” said Dani.

 

“The therapist who sent you to me says you dissociated a little during your first rape, like it wasn’t really real,” said Christian.  “Do you remember telling him that?”

 

‘Yes,” said Dani.

 

“That was your orgasm, Dani,” said Christian.  “That was when you came from your daddy raping you.  It was the pleasure that made you dissociate.  Do you remember?”

 

She made a disagreeing type of sound, and shook her head.

 

“Dani, you want to cum right now, don’t you?” he said.  “From fingering your rapehole as you talk about your daddy fucking you.  You want to cum, don’t you?”

 

She whimpered, and nodded.

 

“If you want to cum so badly right now, do you think it’s possible that you wouldn’t orgasm if your daddy actually fucked you?  Wouldn’t the real thing feel so good?”

 

She whimpered again.

 

“Remember it, Dani,” he said.  “Remember how being raped by your daddy felt so good.  The intense feelings kept building up and up.  They were so intense they made you cry, and made you scream, and beg for him to stop, and then they were so good that you orgasmed.  Do you remember that?”

 

A long, long, silence.

 

Then:  “Yes.  I remember.  It was so intense.  I must have orgasmed.”

 

“That’s very slutty, isn’t it, Dani?” said Christian.  “Cumming from being raped by your own daddy?”

 

“Yes,” she sobbed.

 

“That’s why he raped you all those other times, Dani,” said Christian.  “Because you orgasmed.  That let him know you liked it.  That’s why he kept doing it to you.  If you hadn’t orgasmed, he would have stopped.  But you were a slut and you orgasmed from rape.  You encouraged him, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Because you loved having your daddy rape you,” said Christian.

 

“Yes,” admitted Dani.

 

“This is why you’ve been feeling so sad, Dani,” said Christian.  “Because you know that you made your daddy rape you, that it’s your fault, and that you encouraged him to keep raping you, and you loved it, and it made you cum.  You know that’s true, but you’ve been pretending you don’t.  It’s true, isn’t it, Dani?”

 

“Yes,” whimpered Dani, furiously fingerfucking herself.

 

“It made you feel very guilty to pretend you didn’t like fucking your daddy,” said Christian.  “And when you sent him to jail it made you feel so guilty that you got really sad.”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“You were pretending to be a nice person who didn’t like rape, but that wasn’t true, was it?” said Christian.

 

“No,” said Dani.

 

“The truth is that you’re a daddy-fucking cunt who deserves to be raped,” said Christian.

 

“Yes,” breathed Dani.

 

“Say it.”

 

“I’m a daddy-fucking cunt who deserves to be raped,” said Dani.

 

“That’s right,” said Christian.  “Keep repeating it as you finger your rapehole, and every time you say it, it becomes more true.  Every time you say it, it becomes a truth you have always known.”

 

“I’m a daddy-fucking cunt who deserves to be raped,” said Dani.  “I’m a daddy-fucking cunt who deserves to be raped.  I’m a daddy-fucking cunt who deserves to be raped.  I’m…”

 

“Cum,” ordered Christian, in a loud, firm voice.

 

Dani screamed, and arched her back, as the most powerful orgasm of her life ripped through her.  

 

And as she did, Christian stood from his chair, and ejaculated over her face.  She flinched as his cum struck her cheek, and eyes, and lips, and a little landed on her tits.

 

“Good cunt,” he told her.

 

He waited until she had stopped shaking from the pleasure of the orgasm.

 

“All right, Dani,” he said.  “Soon I’m going to bring you out of trance.  Before I do, I want you to put your clothes back on, the way they were when you walked in.  But don’t clean my cum off your face.”

 

She obeyed him silently, dressing as Christian tucked his cock back into his pants.

 

“Good cunt,” he said, when she was dressed, and she smiled.

 

“When you wake up from trance,” he said, “You won’t remember any of our conversation, or the fact that you undressed, or the fact that we both orgasmed, or anything else that happened during this session.  But you *will* remember the truths you have learned here.  You will remember your new words for breasts, and vaginas, and for women  You will remember that when you show your whore balloons and rapehole to men they can’t resist raping you, and that it’s your fault.  You will remember that you get wet for rape.  You will remember that you made your daddy rape you, and you got wet for him, and that you orgasmed from rape, and that it’s all your fault.  You will remember that he loves you and wants what’s best for you, and you will remember that you’re a daddy-fucking cunt that deserves to be raped.  Do you understand, Dani?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“Good cunt,” said Christian.  “Are you going to feel guilty about all of that, Dani?” 

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“If you feel guilty about yourself, or about how you’ve treated a man, you can deal with that guilt by encouraging a man to rape you,” said Christian.  “Every time you get raped, all your guilt and bad feelings will go away for two whole days.  That will feel good, won’t it, Dani?”

 

“Yes,” she breathed.

 

“You can make your guilt go away by being raped,” repeated Christian.  “You can make all your bad feelings go away by being raped.  But it has to be rape.  No boyfriends.  No men who respect you and treat you nicely.  Only rape.”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Good cunt,” said Christian.  “And lastly, you’re going to leave that cum on your face until you shower tonight.  And you’re going to go out and buy something that reflects the truth about who you are.  Maybe a shirt that says ‘Daddy’s Little Slut’ or panties that say ‘Daddy’ on them.  You’re going to do that with cum on your face.  Because you deserve that.”

 

She whimpered and squirmed.

 

“But it’s going to be embarrassing to have cum on your face,” he told her.  “So your brain is going to help you out by playing a trick on you.  You’re just not going to be aware that the cum is there.  You’re going to think that there’s nothing out of the ordinary.  You’ll forget you have cum on you, and filter out anything that would remind you.  Won’t that be better?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“Good cunt,” he said.  “And tomorrow you’re going to go back to the therapist who sent you there.  You should feel guilty about him, Dani, because he’s been staring at your whore balloons in every session.  Do you know what that did to him?”

 

“It made him want to fuck me,” said Dani.

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

“Mine,” said Dani.

 

“Good cunt,” said Christian.  “You should go back and deal with your guilt about that.”

 

“Yes,” said Dani.

 

“Okay, Dani,” said Christian.  “You can wake up out of trance on the count of three.  One - two - THREE.”

 

Dani’s eyes suddenly focused on Christian.

 

“Hello, Dani,” he said.  “Welcome back.  Do you remember what happened in trance?”

 

She searched her memory, and then shook her head.  “No.”

 

“Would it surprise you to know that you took off your sweater and shirt, and then took off your bra?” said Christian.  “I tried to stop you, but apparently you had a deep desire to do that which the trance unlocked.  It took an effort to get you to put them back on.”

 

Dani blushed a deep red.  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.  “I showed you my… whore balloons?”

 

She made a funny expression as she said this, as if it surprised her to use that word, but she didn’t quite know why.

 

“That’s right,” said Christian.  “You really wanted me to see them.  It triggered… unexpected thoughts in me.”

 

Dani’s blush deepened.  “I’m so sorry,” she breathed - and sounded truly contrite.  “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.  It’s my fault.  I…”

 

A confused expression went over her face - guilt, and shame, and confusion.

 

“You should…” she breathed, and then stopped and swallowed, her mouth clearly dry.  “You should… rape me…” she said, in a small voice.

 

“Really, that’s not necessary,” said Christian.

 

“No, please,” said Dani.  “I deserve it.  I’m a daddy-fucking cunt and I deserve it.”  She lifted her skirt to show him her panties, and then pulled at her underwear and wiggled it down her legs to show him her pussy.

 

“Please,” she said again.  “I need it.  I deserve it…”

 

Christian shrugged.  He wasn’t one to refuse such a heartfelt plea.

 

“Okay,” he said.  “If you insist.  As long as you know this was your idea.  Take off your clothes, and then bend over my desk.  And I have to warn you that I won’t be gentle.”

 

She trembled, but undressed, and bent over his therapist’s desk, ass out.

 

“Oh, and one more condition,” said Christian.  “You have to do it, or else I won’t rape you.”

 

“What?” asked Dani, nervously.

 

“I want you to call me Daddy…” smiled Christian, pressing his cock against her wet, eager rapehole…

 

(END)