Audio

Part 1 of 3

[Optional task: wear sexy business clothes. For example, six inch heels, a black miniskirt, a button-up blouse with too many buttons unbuttoned. Lay down and listen to an erotic hypnosis recording. Or listen to any kinky audio, but focus on not moving a muscle, on pretending you are helpless and brainwashed. Now enjoy the story.]

Ima ran up the flight of stairs and down the hall to the door marked “DR. FROOD, PSYCHIATRIST.” She flung open the door and entered the small reception room, panting and sweating.

The receptionist looked up at her cooly, with the sort of confident smile with a touch of smirk that only the truly beautiful could manage. Her makeup was done so expertly that it looked as if she just naturally woke up in the morning looking that stunning. The color of her silk, button-up blouse was perfect against her skin. Her thick gold bracelets and necklace, almost reminiscent of slave shackles and collar, could have been gaudy but instead made her look like a walking piece of art. She clearly was not an owned slave, but she was wearing jewelry designed to imitate slave girl style. It was the latest craze.

Ima tried hard not to think about herself. About her disheveled skirtsuit. The flyaway in her drab brown hair. The run in her pantyhose. About what the sweat was doing to her makeup. About how her blue eyes always contrasted weirdly with her skin. About how she always felt clumsy and wrong. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I’m here for my 1 p.m. appointment?”

The receptionist glanced at a clock. “1:02 p.m.. Welcome, Miss Loeser. The doctor has been waiting for you.” She stood up from the desk with graceful ease and strode over to another door, her shapely thighs in perfect rhythm, her six inch heels not slowing her down at all. Ima staggered after, cursing how awkward she was in three inch heels.

The receptionist knocked on the inner office door. A man’s voice called back “Yes, Steria?”

“Miss Loeser is finally here for her appointment.”

Ima squirmed in embarrassment.

“Come in.” The receptionist - Steria, apparently - opened the door. A bearded man in a suit looked up from his chair as Ima entered. “Ah, Miss Loeser. Go ahead and lay on the couch and we’ll get started.”

Ima did as instructed. She hoped she didn’t look too unkempt and that he couldn’t smell her sweat. She was so mad at herself for being late. Stupid, stupid! Couldn’t she do anything right?

The psychiatrist asked a number of probing questions. Ima was hesitant at first. Was she doing the right thing? Could he help her? Should she be fully open and vulnerable about her inner thoughts and secrets? She studied the wall. She saw a diploma for Dr. Frood from Diplo Mammal University. Was that a good school for psychiatrists?

Although she was hesitant at first, Ima gradually opened up to Dr. Frood’s probing questions and told him about a lifetime of insecurity. About feeling that she was the reason her father left her mother. About bullies calling her “Loser” instead of “Loeser.” About never feeling good enough or pretty enough. About how the guy she liked went out with another girl and she had mocked her. About being passed over for promotions. About having such low self confidence that she didn’t even believe it when guys flirted with her, about how she had been single and lonely for years.

By the end of it, she was dabbing away her tears with some tissues Dr. Frood had provided. She sniffled. Why did she have to be such an ugly crier? She felt certain that Steria wasn’t an ugly crier.

Dr. Frood waited quietly until Ima’s tears stopped and she regained control of herself. Then he spoke. “Miss Loeser, It’s clear that you have been struggling with extremely low self-confidence all your life.” Ima nodded sadly. “You feel weak. Inferior. Less than. An object of ridicule. A girl to be laughed at and never respected.”

Ima flinched as each phrase landed like a hammer blow. She nearly reached for the tissues again, but held herself together and nodded slowly.

“We will begin therapy at once, Miss Loeser. I can help you to feel better. Lie down and relax. I’ll dim the lights.”

Ima started to ask what he had in mind, but the psychiatrist hushed her. She meekly shut up and complied, laying down fully.

“Close your eyes. Take slow, deep breaths. Listen to my voice. I can help you, but you must trust me fully. Let go. Lose yourself in the sound of my voice. Just relax. Your subconscious mind will follow my instructions. Slow, deep breaths.”

Ima’s mind got fuzzy after that. At some times she seemed to space out, as if she had fallen asleep. Other times she had fuzzy, distorted memories, like a dream or nightmare. In one, Dr. Frood had her imagine herself on the beach, asking her to describe what it looked like, sounded like, felt like, smelled like. In another he was explaining to her that the only solution to her feelings of inadequacy was to embrace them fully. That she was going to reinterpret the feelings of not being good enough in a more positive light. In another dream or memory she was undressing, stripping naked right there in the office, without a shred of shame. And in another, Dr. Frood had raised her legs and was slamming his cock into her pussy, while Steria sat on her face and ordered her to lick her faster. Ima could even imagine the taste of the receptionist’s pussy.

“...you will feel refreshed and relaxed. 3. 2. 1. Wake up, girl.”

Ima’s eyes fluttered open. She yawned and sat up, stretching her arms. She blinked in confusion, trying to remember what had happened, sorting through confused, impossible memories. Dr. Frood was sitting in his chair, just as he had been before the treatment. She awkwardly asked, “uh, doctor… is it normal during that kind of therapy to imagine… unusual things?”

“Unusual?” he asked, picking up his pen and paper. “What kind of unusual memories, Miss Loeser?”

Ima looked him in the eyes. His gaze was utterly cool and professional. Was she really going to tell this man, this doctor, that she had imagined him going at her with the ferocity of a horny teenager while she licked his receptionist’s pussy?

She blushed and looked away. “Never mind. Will that be all, Dr. Frood?”

“For now. You may notice some changes in the coming days as your subconscious adapts to the mental healing. Don’t be alarmed by anything unusual. Just be patient. You should notice fewer concerns about your crippling inadequacy.” Ignoring her wince, he added, “just make an appointment with Steria on the way out.”

“Yes, Dr. Frood.”

Ima got up, realizing something in the office smelled odd. Was it Lysol? Why wouldn’t she have smelled that when she first came in? Strange. She went to the receptionist’s desk and made a follow up appointment for the following Thursday, then turned to the exit.

The receptionist called out to her, “You’re a good lay, loser.”

Ima’s jaw dropped and she spun around, staring at Steria. “What did you say?”

Steria blinked her beautiful, ridiculously long lashes in innocent confusion. “I said ‘have a good day, Miss Loeser.’ Is something wrong?”

Ima stared at the gorgeous, perfectly put together woman for a moment, thinking again in her dream what Steria’s pussy tasted like. For a dream, it felt so real. She could swear that taste was in her mouth right now. She felt suddenly warm. It must be because of the embarrassment. She blushed and looked away. “I… I just… never mind. Haveagooday,” she blurted and fled.

On her drive home, Ima thought she noticed something wrong. A weird sensation between her legs. She decided to stop and treat herself to coffee. It had been quite a day. She stopped at a Starsucks Coffee shop. No sooner did she enter than she heard a man at a table say “nice tits, loser.”

She looked over at him, blushing. The weird sensation in her crotch was stronger. The man was chewing on a piece of banana bread while scrolling social media on his phone. He couldn’t possibly have said that, could he? She brushed it off and went to the barista and placed her order. The barista nodded politely, accepting her payment and tip. “I want to shove something up your flat butt.”

Ima blinked, so shocked she could feel a shock shooting straight through her body from crotch to crown. “Excuse me?”

The busy barista frowned. “I said, that will be right up.”

What was happening? Was Ima losing her hearing or her mind? While waiting for her beverage, she went to the restroom. She shut herself in a stall and lifted her skirt, looking between her legs.

She wasn’t wearing any panties.

She had been wearing panties earlier, right? She always wore panties. She didn’t simply forget. She had been wearing pink cotton panties earlier that day.

Hadn’t she?

Now she wasn’t so certain. It all felt very confusing. She also felt… warm… between her legs. She slowly investigated herself with her fingers. She was warm and wet and tingly. Why?

Ima brought her fingers up in front of her, studying the sticky liquid on them. Then she put them in her mouth.

She didn’t taste nearly as good as Steria.

The shock of that sudden thought made her take her fingers out of her mouth again. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She had never tasted… herself before. And Steria sitting on her face was just some kind of crazy weird dream, right? People couldn’t be responsible for what came into their heads at night.

It was only a moment before she slowly slipped her fingers back in. She wrapped her lips around them, caressed them with her tongue. No, Steria tasted much better. An enchanting bouquet she could be addicted to. Her own taste was… somehow lame and boring. And yet she found it strangely compelling.

Her drink!

She quickly cleaned herself up and exited the bathroom. Her coffee was out on the counter waiting for her. She picked it up.

“You don’t deserve nice treats like that, loser. Throw it out.”

Ima gasped, her pussy tingling. She looked at the girl manning drive-thru. She was saying something into her headset. She couldn’t have said that terrible thing… could she? Especially not since that girl was wearing a slave collar. Ima wasn’t sure if she was owned by the corporation or a private individual, but surely an owned slave would never be so disrespectful… right?

Ima quickly turned and walked to the door of the cafe. By the door she paused for a moment… and tossed her untouched coffee in the trash.

* * *

The following Tuesday, Ima was trying to catch up on work when her boss called her into her office. Ima’s boss was a mature woman, but striking in her beauty, confident, and with an impressively large chest. Ima wondered what it would feel like to have her face crushed between those massive breasts.

“Why are you dressing like a whore, you skanky piece of trash?”

“Huh?” Ima’s thighs shuddered from the sudden burst of humiliated arousal. Everyone she encountered kept insulting her in terrible ways. At least, she thought they were. She was never quite sure if it was what they were really saying, or if it was her imagination. But whether it was or not, each incident soaked her pussy. Ima had never been very sexual before. She had never had a boyfriend and hardly masturbated. Certainly she had never kissed a girl before. But now she felt desperately horny every day - especially when she thought she heard people say humiliating things.

“You heard me, loser. What you’re wearing is unprofessional. You need to change immediately.”

Ima looked down at herself in confusion. She had put on her normal business clothes, right? Skirt, heels, blouse, pantyhose, jewelry?

She was shocked to see herself wearing a slutty minidress. It was the sort of thing a very daring girl might wear at a nightclub if she wanted everyone to look at her. Ima had ordered it online during a short-lived fit of confidence and self-delusion after watching an influencer’s videos. Ever since, she had kept it buried in the back of her closet. Looking at it made her feel ashamed and bad about herself.

She had never, ever worn it in public, and certainly she would have never worn it to work. Shocked and scandalized, she slapped one arm across her exposed cleavage, and the other across the too-short hem, as if she had been naked instead of just wearing a revealing dress. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! I don’t know what I was thinking! How can I make it up to you?”

Her boss raised a manicured eyebrow. “Just… go get changed, loser.”

Ima was mortified as she ran out of her boss’s office and then her workplace, her arms trying futilely to cover herself. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

So why was she so freaking horny?

By the time she got into her car, she thought she could feel the juices of her arousal trickling down her thighs. She needed to go home and change - but surely she could spare a moment to do something about these new sensations…

Ima didn’t know how long she was sitting there, slowly caressing her pussy lips and clit, as she imagined kneeling under her boss’s desk and eating her pussy. For some reason, she kept her touch slow and gentle, not stimulating herself enough to orgasm. The idea of cumming just didn’t feel right. A loser like her didn’t deserve to cum. That thought just got her more horny. Then she thought about how she was sitting in the parking garage, in this slutty minidress, fingering herself for anyone to see. That thought almost did make her cum.

Then the phone rang. Ima started, reached for the phone, then changed her mind and awkwardly grabbed with her hand that wasn’t sticky.

“H-hello?”

“Miss loser? This is Steria, from Dr. Frood’s office. You’re late for your appointment today.”

“What? My appointment isn’t until Thursday.”

“Don’t talk back, bitch. It’s Tuesday. Your appointment is today. Get over here immediately.”

Ima gasped with an aroused shudder at the denigrating words. “Yes, miss!” she said reflexively, and then hung up and drove to the office.

Once she arrived, again sweaty and disheveled, the receptionist looked as glamorous as ever, as if she had just returned from a photo shoot for a magazine cover. Steria looked Ima’s slutty minidress up and down. “Nice outfit, slut. Dr. Frood is waiting for you. You should feel ashamed for keeping him waiting.”

“Yes miss! I’m very ashamed!” Ima said, cheeks flushed as she went into the office. She immediately rushed over to the couch, but felt something squeezing her butt. Hard. Ima squealed in shock.

“What’s wrong, loser?” Dr. Frood asked calmly.

“Why did you touch me, sir?”

“I didn’t touch you. Please sit on the couch so we can proceed, loser, we’re already running late.”

Ima hesitated. He had touched her. Her psychiatrist had groped her! Violated her!

He had, right? She suddenly felt confused. He said he hadn’t. If he said he hadn’t, then he hadn’t touched her.

But it had felt so good…

Ima felt a little dizzy. She laid down on the couch and closed her eyes. Dr. Frood said something, and she stopped thinking.

* * *

Life was different for Ima now. Everywhere she went, she heard people insulting her, belittling her, calling her names - and it made her incredibly horny. It made her feel alive. Ima had difficulty avoiding touching herself in meetings at work.

And then one day her majestic boss called her into her office again.

“I knew you were always a useless bitch, but your performance has gone downhill, slut.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“You keep violating the dress code, whore. You rarely are on time for work. You once thought Monday was Sunday and didn’t come in at all. You’re such a spacey, confused, distracted bimbo bitch that you’ve hardly been getting any work done.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“And that’s why I’m terminating you, loser.”

“No, ma’am! Please!” Ima was appalled. But surprisingly, she was less concerned about no longer being unemployed and more concerned about no longer being surrounded by coworkers to demean and belittle her - especially her tough, confident boss and her giant breasts. “Please, ma’am! I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything to please you.”

“Are you… getting on your knees, loser? Get up! As if I’d let a pathetic worm like you sully my glorious pussy with your dirty tongue! Get out of my office!”

Gasping with a shiver of arousal, Ima obeyed and left, craving the taste of her former boss’s pussy but feeling delighted by the humiliation.