The Lesbian Debt (Chapter 40) – Freedom

Laura woke up one morning and checked her email. She didn’t immediately understand what she saw. She thought it must be because she was a stupid lesbian bimbo, so she read it again, and again, until she realised it was real.

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To: Kitten Tits the Lesbian Slut
Re: Debt

Just writing to let you know that we consider your debt paid.

You are worthless, of course, and have not remotely returned the money you owe. But gambling sites are ony a small part our interests. We are much more invested in creating a world where women – and particularly pretty little lesbians like yourself – understand that their place in life is bouncing up and down on a man’s cock.

Every day women like you throughout the world gamble on our online sites, and lose huge sums of money – because honestly, why would you expect online gambling hosted in an unregulated foreign nation to be fair? – and enter into agreements exactly like yours that teach them to become good little fucktoys. We are establishing clinics very like the Mayim Clinic in cities worldwide, and each of them are working to slowly condition bitches like you into obedient little sex-puppets.

We are particularly pleased with you, and with the number of other bitches you’ve raped and degraded and blackmailed on our behalf, often without being prompted. You have worked hard to restore women to their rightful place in the world as pets for men, and we thank you for that.

The recent lifestyle article you participated in at our instruction has gone viral, and we consider that the final payment of your debt. Your face, your name, and your slutty behaviour have been seen by millions of people, and none of them will ever be able to think of lesbians again without picturing you feeding your girlfriend piss or jogging with weights hanging from your exposed tits. Millions of men are masturbating to the thought of raping a lesbian just like you, and willing to actively participate in making that a reality – or at least staying silent as others do.

You can rub your pussy tonight as you think of the fact that women you have never met will be raped and degraded because of you. Good little Kitten Tits. We are pleased.

You are now free to do whatever you want with your life. Although we suspect we know exactly what a slut like you wants to do with it.
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And that was all. She was free. Her blackmail was over. She could be a normal girl again.

Except she couldn’t, could she? She felt anxiety and stress rise inside her. She lowered her hand to her cunt and started to rub it. Masturbating always helped when she had bad thoughts. It made her happy.

She was still pregnant with her brother’s child. And she had agreed to be his fucktoy and his porn model to pay him back for staying in town to rape her instead of following his career.

She could break her promise, of course. But there was still the matter of her website. The internet had footage of her doing every degrading sexual act her brother could think of, publicly linked to her real name. Anyone Googling her pretty quickly found videos of her eating dog food out of Erica’s pussy or drinking her own piss.

She could move house. She have a real house, a nice girl’s house, where she didn’t have to sit on dildos and piss in the backyard and fuck her lovers where people in the street could watch her. Only how would she pay for that? All her spare money had been paying her gambling debt for a long time.

And Alistair wouldn’t like it if she moved. He could get her fired. She would be reliant on her prostitution money. And she knew deep inside that she would never be able to get another normal desk job, not after all her conditioning. If she was being paid for something other than selling her body she felt wrong and anxious. She needed to be a whore in order to make money. (Part of her told her she needed to be a whore because she *was* a whore, but she tried to ignore it.)

And it wasn’t like she could have real friends. Everyone who she had ever talked to in her life had seen her website by now, had seen her masturbating while she had her tits beaten at a public playground and all the other degrading things there. She had sent many of those people personalised invitations to rape her. Even if she met new people, she would likely slut up against them and want to touch their cocks. That was who she was now.

She didn’t even need to do anything for people to know she was a slut. They would know just by looking at her. They had always known, by her pink slut hair and her giant tits – even bigger now, since she’d started lactating. They’d know her by her clothes. The only clothes she owned made her look like a fucktoy. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to buy normal nice-girl clothes even if she could afford them. Even if she could find ones that fit her massive udders.

Even if she somehow convinced anyone to like her as a person, that would only last until she saw a dog on the street, and sucked it off or let it fuck her. No one would be confused about her being a nice girl after that.

And what about her girls, Taylor and Erica? They had never been the subject of the original blackmail. Their misery was for entirely different reasons. Taylor was blackmailed by Alistair, and it was through Alistair’s permission that Laura got to own and abuse and rape the little slut. Alistair wouldn’t let Taylor move away. (Although, she though, Alistair’s blackmail material had been the threat of embarrassing Taylor, and Taylor could hardly be more embarrassed than by the videos of her on Laura’s website.)

Erica, on the other hand, let herself be tortured because she was just naturally a submissive fake-lesbian slut. She was born to be abused and raped, Laura knew now. If Laura stayed with Erica, she would never be a normal girl, because Erica would always need to be raped and pissed on and made to cry, and so Laura would need to do those things to her. And, despite everything, Laura couldn’t bring herself to leave Erica, who had been so obedient, and had helped Laura through all her blackmail by being there for Laura to abuse. No matter how degraded Laura had become, she had always been able to make Erica feel worse, and that had helped.

She could at least stop drinking piss and eating dog food, though, couldn’t she? Her mind rebelled at the thought. She had been too well conditioned. Normal food made her sick. And she loved the taste of piss and cum so much. Even if she started a new life, she knew she would keep eating piss and cum and dog food, by choice.

She would need to be milked, too. She couldn’t milk herself. She was never going to let herself stop lactating, and she was always going to need someone to milk her udders for her, because she was a stupid slutty cow. So that was a thing.

Suddenly, there was a noise at the door.

Laura froze. This had started happening recently, ever since the article about her had been published. People knew where she lived, knew she was a slut, knew there were no locks on the doors. Strangers would come and just rape her, or the other girls. It had happened three of four times now. They knew the house had cameras in it, so they knew they had to leave the girls alive and without permanent damage, but the girls were getting used to being roughly raped by strangers in their own home at any hour of the clock.

But now Laura was free. There was a phone on the desk. She could ring the police. They would come, and see what the house was like, and Laura could explain what had happened to her and all the terrible things she had been made to do. It would all be over.

Outside the computer room, she could hear what was probably a rapist entering the house. Now was the time to call.

But her cunt was so wet. And her brain was so stupid. She couldn’t think straight. It would be so much easier to think straight after she had cum. After she had been raped.

She giggled happily. A rape would feel so good. It would take her bad thoughts away. Kitten Tits didn’t want to be free. Kitten Tits wanted to be treated like the dumb lesbian rapetoy that she was.

Her mind made up, Laura got down from her chair, and crawled on all fours out into the living room to offer herself up to be raped. Her tits swung heavily beneath her, leaking milk, and her pussy was sopping wet and drooling, and inside herself, from the moment she stopped thinking about the idea of freedom, she was the happiest little lesbian fuckslut that she had ever been.

THE END