Strong pimp who can gaslight me into working in streets, making me dress in worst way even an normalprostitute will refuse to stand in street where that dress. Earn money for you and you only provide me basic needs. Will make me fall in loans and it will be permanent for me. Shame me by bringing college boys with whom i sit in the mornings in class. Play games with me with making me go to college without allowing me to bath and give me lot of rules to follow. make my life missirable. This is not a sex roleplay, its more on shame and humiliation, self destruction and getting gaslightighted.

similar on the lines i posted before

Komal psychology marks weren’t as great as they could be, so she was quick to jump on the advertisement in the women’s rec room. It offered psych course credit in exchange for part-time work over three months helping to prepare for a conference presentation.

She probably should have read the contract she was offered before signing it. The conference was on the topic of “Training The Modern Woman” and the three psych postgrads who she would be assisting were making a presentation on “Accessory Training: Creating Desirable Behaviour Through Wearables”.

She was told all she would have to do for the three months is wear the three items they had designed, and then attend the conference so they could show their results.

In the first month, the first postgrad got her to have her tongue pierced. Into the piercing, he put a large metal stud that ended in a bright pink disc of metal about the size of a large coin, on which the words “Fuck Me” were clearly visible. Komal was not eager to show off the disc - which made her blush every time she thought about it - and not eager to explain why it was on her tongue, so she started speaking less, staying silent more often. Over the month she became less inclined to disagree with people, less inclined to dispute instructions or ask questions about them, and much less inclined to voice her own opinions or thoughts.

The disc had a secondary purpose. It could detect movements in her mouth, and when it could tell she was smiling, it released a very subtle taste of semen into her mouth. She didn’t even notice it, but she soon came to associate the taste with being happy...

At the end of the month, the second postgrad had his turn. He gave her a clit piercing, and clipped a little metal device through the piercing, and then gave her bracelets and a necklace to wear. She soon discovered how they worked. If her hand came too near the necklace, she would receive a sharp electric shock in her clit. The range was sufficient that she couldn’t move her hands anywhere near her breasts and face. She quickly learned not to cover or protect her breasts, and to generally stand with her hands by her sides or behind her back. She also now found it difficult to eat using her hands. The postgrad recommended she try eating directly from a dog bowl, and although it made her blush, she found it worked.

Trying this out also helped her to discover another effect of the jewellery set - when her hands and neck were both closer to the ground than her clit, the clit piercing began to vibrate pleasurably. Often after eating from her dog bowl, she would stay on all fours, tits pressed against the ground and ass in the air, until the device had brought her to an embarrassing orgasm.

The last postgrad gave her several sets of clothes to wear. The clothes were sexy, but not overly slutty. The shoes were the real nightmare - they buckled to her feet, had ridiculously high heels she could barely balance on, and the inner soles were covered with wicked little spikes that bit into the soles of her feet. She could barely stand on them for more than a few minutes at a time, but she had to wear them constantly while awake, so she found herself getting down on all fours and crawling whenever she could, to take the weight off her feet.

She would have spent more time sitting, but the panties were cruel too, with uncomfortable short phalluses on the inside that lined up with her anus and pussy. The one at her butthole was too big, and hurt tremendously when she sat on it. In addition, the seat of the panties also had a spiky texture that hurt to sit on.

Unbeknown to Komal, the clothes were all also soaked in a contact chemical, that caused very minor irritation and background nausea. The longer Komal wore the clothes, the unhappier and sicker she felt, and the sense of relief when she was allowed to remove them at night was nearly overwhelming. Towards the end of the month she would be in tears in the morning, begging the postgrad on the phone to not have to put on clothes, to be allowed to stay naked, her words slurred from the large piercing through her tongue - but he never showed mercy.

At the conference, she was brought out on stage for everyone to see. The postgrads had told her she would have to wear her heels, but she could go without clothing if she wanted to. She was almost delirious with happiness at not having to wear clothes. In front of a huge crowd, she blushingly crawled out, nude except for her jewellery and heels, her tits hanging beneath her, her clit piercing buzzing, making her cunt uncomfortably wet.

The postgrads detailed how they had trained Komal to be a much more appealing modern woman, to the laughter and approval of the audience. Then, finally, each postgrad asked Komal a question.

The first postgrad said, “Would you rather suck my cock on stage in front of all these people, or give a short speech telling us about women’s rights?” Komal wanted to talk about women’s rights - this whole conference was so demeaning for women - but she didn’t want to show everyone her piercing and she knew she would sound stupid with her words slurred anyway. Then the postgrad took his cock out of his pants, and the smell of his pre-cum was so good that Komal couldn’t help herself. She obediently opened her mouth and began slobbering over his cock in front of the crowd, until finally he ejaculated. He pulled out as he did so, getting some cum on her face and tits, but he left enough in her mouth for her to enjoy the taste.

The second postgrad said, “Would you rather stand upright and walk out of here, or have me fuck your cunt in front of the crowd and then keep you in a dog kennel afterwards?” Komal moaned. Her pussy was so wet. She didn’t want to be fucked, or kept in a kennel, but she knew she couldn’t possibly walk all the way offstage on those heels, so she just lowered her face, spread her legs, and lifted her ass. She orgasmed almost as soon as his cock entered her pussy, and twice more as the audience laughed and cheered.

Finally, the third postgrad, taking his turn fucking her ass, without seeking her approval, had two documents placed in front of her, and a pen. “Would you rather sign a contract that entitles you to a generous payment for your work leading up to this conference, as well as a wardrobe of expensive clothing, on condition that you must wear that clothing while in public? Or would you rather sign a contract agreeing that you will never again wear clothing other than heels and sexual accessories, and giving us the right to make all your decisions for you in perpetuity, including as to when you consent to sex and under what circumstances?”

She wept, considering her choices, but the thought of wearing clothing - any clothing - made her panicky and sick. She tried to think through the mixed pain and pleasure of having her ass violated by the postgrad’s cock, tried to ignore the fact she was nude in front of an audience, with cum on her face and tits and leaking from her pussy. She couldn’t. There was only one choice. She picked up the pen and signed herself into a life of nudity and sexual slavery.