Carrie and the Hypno-the-Rapist

[skuttrusk]

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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Carrie and the Hypno-the-Rapist
Author: Skuttrusk
Content Warnings: the scat component is small and really just a punchline. The violence and overall cruelty is a bit more of an issue perhaps, for some
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You don't need to have read any other Carrie stories to get this.

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Carrie and the Hypno-the-Rapist

"Men just can't seem to control themselves around me!" sobbed Carrie, lying on Dr. Petersen's couch.
He eyed the blonde's succulent curves, and thought "I don't blame them one bit." But instead he said, "And how does this lack of control... manifest itself?"

"Rape!" said Carrie, her eyes wide with horror. "I've lost count of the number of times I've been violated. Not just in... the normal way... but everywhere! Oh, it's so humiliating!"

"I can see how it would be," said Dr. Petersen, all the while thinking, "You little prick-tease, my God you deserve it all!"

"And if it's not rape, it's indecent assault, or else they tear my clothes off... My life's become an endless cycle of sexual torment. Under this blouse and skirt, I'm black and blue! You should see it!"

"Perhaps later," said Dr. Petersen with a barely concealed smirk, but then, quickly: "Is there anything in particular you're concerned about just now?"

"Well yes. I have a presentation to make to the board at work. They're mostly men, and this is my first time in front of them, and... well, this is exactly the kind of situation where... IT usually happens."

"By 'IT' you mean rape?" asked the Doctor, sympathetically.

"Yes. Gang rape, probably. I can just imagine what they'll do to me, if they're anything like normal men, and if anything... goes wrong."

"So you want confidence? To walk in assertively with a challenge in your eye, putting them in their place and making them instinctively know that you are not a person they can take liberties with."

"Oh yes! If I could only do that, it would change my whole life!"

"Well, we haven't much time. I propose hypnotherapy."

When Dr. Petersen explained to Carrie that hypnosis could result in an instant transformation in her fortunes, she was all too willing to try it. Soon, the doctor was sending her into a deep trance, his pocket watch swaying before her big, wide, blue eyes, which slowly became concealed by her drooping eyelids.

"You are now wholly under my command," smiled Petersen.

"I am... under your command..." murmured the submissive blonde.

"Tell me, my dear, don't you feel warm in that blouse?"

"Uhmm... a little."

"You're perspiring, my dear. Perhaps you should remove it. Feel how hot you are."

"Oh, I'd be too embarrassed!"

"That's alright, my dear. You must bear the embarrassment. It's simply too warm for you to remain covered a moment longer. You will be terribly embarrassed, of course, but you MUST remove your blouse."

"Oh dear..." Carrie sat up on the couch and unbuttoned her blouse, looking at Petersen with big ashamed eyes, blushing furiously. She slipped out of the shirt, and her round, pert breasts were exposed, only the sheer fabric of her lacy beige bra protecting her modesty.

"The skirt had better come off too," suggested Petersen, able to leer openly at his helpless patient. "Look how sweaty you've become." And it was true: under Petersen's insinuating instructions, Carrie was shiny with perspiration.

"Oh dear, this is SO embarrassing," Carrie said, standing up and undoing her skirt. It fell to the floor and she lay down again, clad only in her lacy underthings.

"I realize this is humiliating for you," chuckled Petersen. "Terribly, terribly humiliating. But you do have a most luscious body. Quite rape-able. I can't blame all those men for taking advantage of you." Carrie had no choice but to lie there, exposed, as Petersen appraised her in this degrading way. While the remarks stung home, making her feel even more small and degraded, her clouded mind could not question what was happening. In her hypnotized state, she accepted everything that happened as natural.

"Most luscious thighs. Please part them," requested Petersen, thrilling as his victim obeyed his slightest suggestion. He ran his clammy hand up Carrie's inner thigh until it was inches from her pussy. "Tell me, how did you get these bruises by your cunt?"

"That happened on Wednesday," breathed Carrie, responding unconsciously to the shrink's caresses. "I was raped by a couple of construction workers. It started with wolf-whistles, but oh! how it escalated. When they were finished raping me, and I was sprawled exhausted on the ground, my clothing in shreds, their sperm cooling on my body, one of them kicked me. Hard. Between the legs."

"Do you mean he kicked your cunt?" tittered Petersen, moving his hand higher, his fingers probing past the elastic of her panties.

"Y-yes." gasped Carrie.

"Then say so."

"He kicked my...cunt. And his friend laughed, so he did it again, and again. It's still tender."

Petersen was by now stroking her luscious lips under her panties.

"Tender, but wet, my dear," he murmured, right into her lovely shell-like ear. "It seems rough treatment arouses you." And with that, he whipped off her panties and slung them away. They landed over a lampshade, while Carrie immediately covered her exposed snatch with both hands.

Petersen leered down at his prey. Was there anything more attractive than a naked girl trying to cover herself?

"Remove your bra. I want to examine those big titties of yours."

Carrie blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, but she could not resist or even question a direct order. She shrugged her bra off, attempting to keep her thighs crossed as tightly as possible. Petersen gazed in awe at her gorgeous ripe breasts.

"Tell me, whore," he drooled, stroking one finger around Carrie's left nipple, "What are these red marks?"

"Bite marks," said Carrie, in a small voice. "That happened on Tuesday. The man who raped me on the underground was very excited about my... my tits. He gave each of them love bites. There were plenty of other people on the train, but nobody tried to help me. They... they cheered him on."

"And was it painful?"

"Oh yes!"

"Like this?" and the depraved psychiatrist sank his teeth cruelly into Carrie's succulent titflesh.

"Ooooh! Ow! Yes! Like that!"

At this point, Dr. Petersen lost control of himself (though not of Carrie) and gave her a double dose of everything she had received on Tuesday and Wednesday, and a little more besides. We would love to report in detail what followed, but the secrets of the psychiatrist's couch are like those of the confessional, only more interesting.

However, we can report, and will shortly do so, exactly what happened AFTERWARDS...

After raping his patient in a variety of ways, Dr. Petersen allowed her to dress, although he kept her bra and panties as souvenirs. A post-hypnotic command assured her that she'd forgotten to put them on that morning.

"In addition," purred the doctor to his mesmerized charge, "Although you can feel the soreness in your body, in your nipples and pussy and asshole, you will associate this only with the previous assaults. You will know for certain that I have not put a finger on you... or in you."

"You have not put a finger on me..." murmured Carrie, sleepily.

"Now, as for your presentation, I have several ideas to help you. I want you to send me your PowerPoint presentation so I can make some changes to it. You will not be aware of sending it, nor of receiving the changes, but you will use the version I send without looking at it first."

"Yes...master," droned Carrie, completely in his power.

"I also have some suggestions for your dress on the day of the presentation. It is important that you present an air of strength and authority. Your body must be striking, and as visible as possible. No underwear may spoil the effect. We need a short skirt and plenty of cleavage. It's best if you choose something you would normally consider slutty. It will have the right effect. If the effect strikes you as cheap and vulgar, good -- in fact, make it more so. It's always best to overdo these things. If your audience can see your nipples poking through the thin fabric, you will have them in the palm of your hand."

"The palm of my hand."

"Also, you must be flirtatious. Men respond to that. Giggle and flirt. If it feels like you are being a bimbo, that's good. Practice between now and the presentation on any man you meet. You should go and spend some time in bars -- really sleazy ones. Porno stores are good for meeting men also. Spend today practicing your technique, and don't go home until it's late. Walk home alone. It will give you confidence."

Openly sniggering (Carrie wouldn't notice), Dr. Petersen gave his client some more posthypnotic suggestions and then brought her round. Then he sent her on her way, asking her to come back and let him know just how the presentation went. Relieved and confident, Carrie gave him a big happy smile and wiggled out of his office. Petersen enjoyed watching that round ass sway, and chuckled at the thought of what the poor slut was in for...

When Carrie came to see Dr. Petersen two days later, she looked different.

"You've changed your hair," observed the doctor, noticing the way it curled over her forehead. Carrie looked miserable, and swept her blonde locks back into their usual position. Now Dr. Petersen could clearly see the word CUNT written in black letters on the girl's brow.

"Permanent marker," explained the unhappy girl. "It'll take weeks to fade."

"What happened?" asked Dr. Petersen with fake sympathy.

"I can't even tell you!" said Carrie, breaking down in tears. "I'm black and blue all over! It was the most humiliating and terrible thing that's ever happened to me. And I've been raped so many times!"

"There, there," smiled Dr. Petersen. "I'm sure it's not so bad as that. Let me hypnotize you
again and you can tell me all about it."

"When I left your office," Carrie murmured, in her light hypnotic daze, "I felt upbeat. I followed your advice and went to an adult bookshop so I could be in a sexual situation and still feel safe. I was sure it would be empowering, like you said.

"Well, I was going to choose the more respectable-looking one, but I remembered what you said about challenging myself so I picked this really dark, sleazy place. Once I was inside it felt like a mistake. The walls were covered with magazines showing naked girls tied up, and being whipped and stuff. There were only a few men there, a respectable-looking older man in a business suit, and some scruffy characters, and the proprietor, so it didn't seem too scary. I started looking at a magazine which showed a Chinese girl having candle wax dripped on her breasts. I've had that done -- oh, against my will! -- so I was sort of intrigued.

"Suddenly I felt the manager standing right behind me. 'Interested in anything in particular?' He asked, and his breath was horrible and I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I didn't know how to respond so I just said the first thing into my head, which unfortunately was 'Rape!'

"He grinned and said he was sure he could help with that, and then I felt his hand on my bottom. He was lifting my skirt before I could stop him, and I realized with horror that I didn't have any panties on. I suppose I must have just forgotten to wear any. He held my skirt up so the other customers could see, and said something horribly embarrassing..."

Dr. Petersen leaned forward. "What did he say?"

"He said -- oh, it's too humiliating!"

Petersen scolded Carrie lightly. "Now, now, how can I help you if you're not frank? You need to tell me every little detail, however demeaning you find it." His hard-on bulged in his pants. He could have put Carrie in a deeper trance to spare her embarrassment, just having her recite the events like a robot, but this was much more fun.

"He said, 'Look, the slut isn't wearing any panties! Looks like she's serious about wanting to be raped. Come on, lads, let's give the filthy little whore what she's asking for.' Then two other men were all over me, opening my blouse, and commenting on how I didn't have a bra. Their hands were all over my breasts and bottom, and then the proprietor put two fingers inside my... my pussy. I kept saying 'No, please no...'

"Then the man in the business suit was pulling me free of them. I was still half-naked, crying. He told me I'd been very silly to go in there like that, and I deserved everything I got and I was just lucky he'd been there. I threw my arms around him and thanked him for rescuing me. Then he said that after causing such a scene, the least I could do was get the men off. He'd stop them raping me, but I had to give them each a hand-job. It was that or he'd leave me to their mercy.

"I was so grateful that I wasn't going to be raped that I would have done anything he said. He told me to undress and kneel on the floor, and the three men stood around me and jerked off. I took one penis in each hand and stroked them rapidly. The proprietor's cock went in my mouth before I could think what was happening. There was no way to object, and if it meant getting out of their quicker I was all for it. He didn't taste very nice --dirty, and it smelled of pee, but I sucked and licked as fast as I could.

"The businessman just watched until they were finished. One man came on my breasts, one in my hair, and the proprietor did it in my mouth, of course. I wanted to spit it out and he made me do it in his hand, then he rubbed it all over my face.

"I started to get dressed but the businessman was in a hurry and rushed me out, still dripping with cum, still zipping up my skirt and with my blouse just hanging off one arm. He took me to his car and told me to pay him back for rescuing him. I asked what he wanted, and he told me. It seemed I wasn't going to get off so lightly after all.

"He was a great fan of anal sex, and I was going to have to open my ass for him. He told me I could lube him up with my spit, so I licked his penis, which was very big, but he wiped most of it off before pushing my ankles up over his shoulders and ramming into me. It was very sore, as I was still quite tender there and he wasn't really lubricated at all. He took his time: although he rammed me hard and fast some of the time, he'd slow down when he was about to cum, and so he made it last about half an hour. After he filled my bottom with his cream, he ordered me to lick him clean, and I did. After all, he had protected me. He warned me against being so slutty in future and pushed me out the car, still half naked.

"Well, the next day I dressed for my presentation, wearing very revealing clothes as you'd suggested. I strode into that boardroom feeling like I owned the world.

"And who do you think was sitting at the far end of the table? The businessman who'd screwed my bumhole the night before. I suddenly feared this wasn't going to go well..."

"I saw at once that he recognized me and was staring very hard at me: running his eyes up and down my body and also looking rather disapproving. I remembered his warning me not to behave like a slut. I wished I'd worn a longer skirt.

"I decided to launch into my presentation as quickly as possible to impress him with my professionalism, so I started my speech: 'With modern organization, you can save money AND have a happier workforce,' and clicked on the first image of my PowerPoint presentation.

"Suddenly everybody's eyes opened wide. Something was very wrong. I turned to look at the image being projected behind me..."

Dr. Petersen smiled. He knew what was coming, but he wanted to hear Carrie describe it: it would be so humiliating for her.

"What did you see, Carrie?"

"Oh, I can't tell you!"

"You must. Listen, Carrie," he said, using his best hypnotic voice, "the embarrassment is intense, absolutely humiliating, but you MUST tell me everything, in the greatest possible detail. Make it good, slut," he added, enjoying the fact that she couldn't object.

"Well, I looked around to see what everyone was staring at. It wasn't the slide that was supposed to appear! What I saw was a picture of a blonde girl, naked as the day she was born, bending over to show her bottom! She was holding a VERY big dildo in one hand.

"I stared at this image in amazement for some moments, unable to imagine how it had gotten into my PowerPoint document. Then I came to my senses and clicked for the next picture to get rid of it.

"But the next image was even worse! Here was the girl moving the head of the dildo to her... to her bottom. And turning to smile at the camera. And then I recognized her... myself."

Dr. Petersen smiled. "How do you mean, Carrie?"

"It was me! But I never posed for such a picture! I couldn't make any sense of it at all. I clicked the image away, but the next one was still more terrible. It showed me actually pushing this massive thing -- it must have been fifteen inches long and as wide as my wrist -- into my bottom. And licking my lips! As if I would ever do such a thing!"

Dr. Petersen chortled openly (Carrie, in a mild trance, couldn't object). She had indeed done such a thing, in this very office, under his control. The images he had taken and inserted into her presentation seemed to have had just the amusing effect he had hoped for: publicly humiliating Carrie and leading to some uncomfortable complications for her.

"Tell me what happened next," he purred.

"I clicked once more, terrified of what I'd see. And sure enough, in this next image, the great plastic tube was buried inside my bottom-hole, and I was splaying my pussy lips open for the camera while pulling on one nipple. It was the most pornographic thing I've ever seen!

"Well, I looked back at the team, you know, all those businessmen, including the one who had rescued me the day before. They were staring in shock at those images. Some were grinning, some looked lustful, some looked angry. The man who'd had me the day before; I just couldn't tell what he was thinking. But he looked... dangerous. I tried to apologize. 'I don't know HOW this happened...' Then he spoke. He was the Chairman.

"'We've all heard the 'Oops, I don't know how THAT slipped in here' gag in presentations, Miss Jenkins,' he said, 'But never quite this... explicitly. I'm sure we're all grateful for you going the extra mile with it. And I congratulate you on your shapely form and... ability. I strongly suggest you move on to the more serious part now.'

"'Yes, sir,' I said. 'I think I'll do without the images,' -- there was general laughter at this --so I switched off the projector. I was flushed and flustered, utterly perplexed and embarrassed, and I didn't know how I was going to make it through my presentation without visual aids. At least I had my notes. But then something REALLY strange happened..."

Carrie frowned as she shifted on Dr. Petersen's couch, and he leered pleasurably at the way
her ample breasts almost spilled from her top. He could see bruising and bite marks on the
creamy slopes of her titties, and wanted to know how they got there...

"I started to read from my notes, but right away I knew something was wrong. I didn't seem to recognize any of the words. 'Those slides show me pursuing my favorite hobby: getting fucked up the arse," I read. 'There's nothing quite like it, and even when it hurts, I love it. In fact, pain is the most fun of all: I'm the kind of slut who'd rather be slapped hard in the face than kissed.' I was horrified by the words, but somehow I couldn't stop reading! It went on: 'I love the feeling of having my asshole completely filled, stretched out until it's sore. If a man fucks my anus, I always lick him clean afterwards. Well, it's the least a girl can do. I first
discovered the joys of pain and ass-fucking when I was raped as a teenager, and ever since, I can't get enough of pain, ass-fucking and rape.' I saw the chairman stand up, a look like thunder on his face, and he started walking slowly towards me. The paper was trembling in my fingers, but I couldn't stop reading the filthy words: 'I think rape should really be legalized. So many men enjoy it, and if they were able to rape all the girls they fancied, I bet a lot of the girls would enjoy it too. I can't be the only filthy little cum-slut out there who enjoys being used and abused.'

"SLAP! The chairmen struck me hard across the cheek and the notes fluttered to the floor. I saw stars. Through the ringing in my ears from that terrific blow, I heard him say, 'Come on then. If the slut likes it rough, let's give it to her rough. We're obviously not going to get anything else accomplished today. She might as well pay for the time she's wasted.'"

"With that, he knotted his fingers in my hair and tilted my head back, then ripped my skimpy top open, exposing my breasts to everyone in the room. I tried to cover up, and of course that earned me another almighty slap. Twisting my hair savagely, he bent me over the boardroom table and tore my skirt clean off. 'No panties, eh? What a little whore.'" The rest of the board were gathering round, enjoying the view, and I could hear every word they said: 'Dirty little bitch,' 'Needs a damn good raping,' 'She'll fucking rue the day she walked in here in those fuck-me shoes,' and things like that. Then I heard the chairman say, 'What the slut needs is a good beating to get her warmed up.' My heart skipped a beat when I heard those terrible words!

"On the table in front of me was a pointer -- a silvery object the size of a pen, which extended like an aerial to allow you to point at things in the slide show. The chairman picked it up and extended it, and then I heard him swishing it through the air. 'The little bitch ought to like THIS,' he said.

"CRACK! The steel rod slashed down onto my bare bottom and I would have jumped a mile if it weren't for all the men's hands suddenly holding me in place. As the pain tore through me, worse than any belt or cane, I wondered if this was going to scar me for life. It certainly seemed possible that it would cut clean through my soft, pale skin..."

Dr. Petersen leaned forward. "And did it? May I see?"

Carrie, in her hypnotized state, had no choice but to roll over and raise her short skirt for her master. Petersen exulted in the sight of his victim's bare bottom, crisscrossed with dozens of sharp red weals, some of which had indeed drawn blood. The bleeding had now stopped, but the shapely rump looked very tender. So, naturally, he reached out and squeezed the nearest cheek, producing an appreciative gasp from Carrie. "Ow!"

"Do go on..." purred Dr. P. "What did they do to you next?"

"Oh, they thrashed me and thrashed me," wept Carrie, writhing on the analyst's couch as Dr. Petersen cruelly kneaded her sore buttocks. "They each took turns. They whipped me horizontally, and then vertically, so the slashes crisscrossed, which made it even more painful. And then..."

"Go on," urged Petersen, thumbing her buttocks open to inspect her most intimate regions.

"There was a drawer at the head of the boardroom table. I was bent over the table, remember, receiving my whipping. One of the men opened the drawer..."

"Yes?"

"My breasts hung down into it... and then he... he slammed the drawer on my nipples. Oh! It was so painful!"

Dr. Petersen firmly pushed Carrie's ass, rolling her onto her front, and unbuttoned her blouse. "Let me see," he demanded. Sure enough, Carrie's nipples were red and inflamed, the first signs of substantial bruising showing through the peachy skin.

"They slammed that drawer again and again, right on my poor nipples. And sometimes they held it shut, just crushing them. One of them would pull my hair, hauling me back, stretching my breasts out. It was agony."

Dr. Petersen rolled Carrie's swollen nipples between his fingers and thumbs. "Does this hurt?"

"Ow! Oh yes, terribly."

"Good. I'll keep doing it then. So, tell me, my dear... were you raped?"

Carrie moaned and squirmed as the Dr. tortured her sore nipples.

"Yes... they all raped me..." she gasped, and he gave her an extra-sharp tweak in his excitement. "They raped me.... only..."

"Yes?"

"The chairman said they should all take me anally. One after the other. He went first, of course. There was no lube this time. Oh, it was so painful when he rammed it in!"

Petersen rolled Carrie over. "Arch your back, slut. Now, pull those arse cheeks open. Show me where they raped you."

Carrie complied helplessly, exposing her gaping, red-raw asshole, mute testimony to the abuse she'd received. The doctor touched the rosy ring and felt how very soft it was. A thoroughly raped asshole, indeed.

"They took in turns, all of them. Ten or a dozen, I don't know. In between times, they beat me some more. One of them took a staple gun. He emptied the staples, thank God, but when he pressed it to my bottom and fired, two sharp metal bolts stung me. Look, you can see the marks." Carrie pointed to a series of red puncture-wounds on her bottom.

DELICIOUS, thought Dr. Petersen.

"Then they started using the stapler on my pussy," sobbed Carrie. Dr. Petersen immediately had her roll onto her back and spread her soft thighs wide. There were puncture-marks on her inner thighs, on her pussy mound, and on the lips of her juicy cunt itself.

"Spread those pussy-lips for me, bitch," he instructed. With no free will of her own, Carrie had no choice but to part the tender opening, exposing where the stapler had been employed to devastating effect on her inner pussy.

As Dr. Petersen stroked her wet, aching pussy lips, Carrie recounted the sordid details of her ordeal.

"One after the other they raped me, always anally. It started painful, and only got worse. If one was smaller than another, he still compensated by beating or biting me harder. And finally, the ultimate humiliation..."

"Oh yes?" smiled Dr. Petersen. He had a feeling he knew what this was -- after all, he'd planned it.

"As one particularly wide penis was stretching my bottom, the owner leaned close to my ear and whispered, "You love it, don't you, you dirty little cunt?"

"Yes?" said Dr. P, vigorously frigging his helpless victim.

"Well, when he called me... that name... I couldn't help myself... something came over me... my body went into spasm... quite against my will..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, Dr. Petersen, I had the most intense orgasm! And I didn't want to at all!" sobbed Carrie.

"And all because this particular man called you... what was it? A dirty little cunt?"

"Oooooohhhh..."

Dr. Petersen's post-hypnotic command had worked all too well, and continued to do so. It was fine-tuned so that only a third party referring to Carrie by that particular four-letter word would cause her to cream herself. She could not trigger an orgasm by saying the word herself -- after all, his intent was not to give her power over her own responses, but to remove it.

Continuing to finger-fuck Carrie's juicy slit, Dr. Petersen probed mentally as well as physically: "And what happened after your delicious orgasm?"

"Th-they all laughed at me... called me a slut... said I got off on pain and rape and humiliation... and they used the word again..."

"You mean 'cunt'?"

"Yyyyeeessss...." sighed Carrie, another terrific orgasm ravishing her senses. Her face was sweating, her hair stuck to her brow with perspiration. Rapid breath. Eyes rolling back in her head. "They thrashed me and spat on me and called me cunt, cunt, cunt, and I came, I came, I came..."

"Cunt. Cunt. CUNT." said Dr. Petersen happily, watching as Carrie thrashed and writhed under the brunt of the successive orgasms wracking her frame. "CUNT. CUNT. CUNT." He slapped her face. He could do anything he liked to her, it didn't matter.

"The chairman of the board punched me in the stomach and I sank to my knees. He ordered me to lick clean all the cocks that had raped my ass. I put my tongue out. I had no choice. I slurped and sucked every cock, until they shot their loads over me..."

"Cunt."

"Oooooohhh.... then the chairman kicked me out the door. Told me not to come back unless I wanted even worse treatment. I was naked in the corridor. Dripping with their fluids. I hadn't the strength to stand. I crawled. Crawled to the elevator. Crawled out on the ground floor. Supported myself against the wall and slunk out of the building. Still naked. I wandered home. It was a miracle nobody else raped me, but I must have looked such a mess. A filthy mess."

"Cunt."

"Ooooooohhhh God, please... Now I can never go back to work..."

"Why, nonsense, Carrie. You'll go back tomorrow."

"Oh, but if I go back, he said they'd hurt me even worse..."

Dr. Petersen, by now horny as hell, drew his long cock from his trousers and prepared to rape the hypnotized Carrie. Vaginal first, he thought, then anal.

"That's right, Carrie, they'll hurt you even worse. Nevertheless, you're going back. Because I
say so..."

"Maybe I've gone too far," thought Dr. Petersen, looking down at Carrie on the hospital bed. The first time he'd sent her back to work had been amusing. When she'd staggered into his office the next day, she could hardly walk. She told him tearfully of the beating she'd received, the gang rape and torture, and again it had made him very horny. When she'd described how the chairman of the board had kicked her repeatedly between the legs, while his board members held her naked and spread-eagled, he'd enjoyed that, and had her undress and spread herself for his inspection. Hearing about how they'd flipped her onto her belly and ground her nipples into the floor under their heels had also been most enjoyable. Raping Carrie as she lay in a mild trance, still able to feel every thrust of his cock
into her sore pussy, still wincing as his fingers twisted her bruised nipples, all of which had been great fun. Making her cum by whispering the words "You are a stupid, worthless little CUNT" into her ear as he climaxed inside her asshole had been best of all.

Perhaps sending her back to work again, after that, in spite of the threats she'd received, had been unwise. Were it not for the post-hypnotic command compelling Carrie back to his office, she'd probably have been unable to make it. She was supporting herself against the wall, hardly able to walk. She showed him where her tits had been lightly singed with cigarette lighters and how her blond bush had been plucked bald. She was bruised and scratched all over. Petersen raped her again and felt no guilt.

But now... Carrie lay on the hospital bed, swathed in bandages. Her plaster-cast arms and legs were in traction, suspended in the air from wires. Only her breasts and pussy were uncovered, the white gauze enswathing every other curve of her voluptuous form. Not that those erogenous zones were uninjured. Swollen and tender, they displayed the impact of countless blows from belts and belt buckles.

"Why is she uncovered like that?" Petersen asked the supervising physician, a slim, attractive young woman with a black bob.

"Oh, purely aesthetic reasons," smiled Dr. Amy Sweet. "I like my patients to look...pleasing. I thought the red skin made an appealing contrast with the white of the bandages and casts."

"Tell me, will Carrie be alright?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. She'll even be beautiful again once her jaw is reset. And her holes will recover their tightness." Dr. Sweet stroked Carrie's exposed pussy with rubber-gloved fingers. "We have had a slight problem there, of course."

"A problem?"

"Carrie has been receiving visitors, the naughty girl," said Dr. Sweet, giving Carrie's bare pussy a playful spank. Bound helplessly, trussed up in traction, Carrie could only flinch, and with her jaw wired up the only protest possible was a whimper.

"Every morning we find her oozing with cum. She's unable to give oral satisfaction, of course, but somebody's been enjoying her sweet pussy and bum. Janitorial staff, I suppose. Well, on their pay it's not surprising they look for perks. And Carrie is so very perky..." she tweaked one of the captive blonde's swollen nipples.

"Have you tried extra security?" asked Dr. Petersen.

"Yes, but that just made the problem worse. We've got four extra men on now. You should see the state of her in the morning."

"What are you doing about it?"

"Well, some mornings I suck the cum from her personally. Spit it into her mouth. It's full of protein, you know," said Dr. Sweet, idly rubbing her prisoner's clitoris. "Or else I scoop it out with my fingers and just drip it into her mouth. She can't help but swallow, flat on her back as she is. We've been treating her with enemas, also."

"I see you've got ice cubes floating in the enema bag. Doesn't the cold cause her painful cramping?"

"I expect it does. Warm, soapy water is usually recommended, but I'm allowed to use my own judgment." She gave Carrie's clit a wicked flick with her index finger, making the whitewrapped figure flinch and moan. Placing a hand on Carrie's bloated, bandaged stomach, she pressed lightly. "Her bowels are quite full. Any pressure on her stomach is very... uncomfortable. You should remember that, Dr. Petersen," and she smiled in what seemed a curiously meaningful way.

"Are charges being brought? Against the men who did this, I mean?"

"Oh no, the police seem quite satisfied. They spoke to the men involved, and it does seem as if young Carrie was a quite willing participant."

"But they can't have gotten her side of it?"

"Well, she can't talk at present, or write, but she can communicate by blinking. We left a couple of policemen alone with her to take a statement over the course of several hours, but they didn't make any headway. Funny thing, that..."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Afterwards, she was dripping with cum again and had several new bite marks on her breasts and pussy lips. Anyhow, no action is being taken. She's been fired from her job, of course."

"Naturally. May I be alone with her now? Her psychotherapy is more urgent than ever."

"Certainly, doctor. I believe fifty minutes is the standard session? Although under the circumstances..."

"Yes, perhaps two hours would be better."

"Quite so. I'll see you're undisturbed. Oh, you might drain the enema from her bowels when you're done. Keeping them inflated for that long will be rather uncomfortable for the poor girl."

As soon as Dr. Sweet left him alone with Carrie, Petersen mounted her and began banging away at her sore pussy. Since she wasn't in a hypnotic trance, Carrie experienced this as full-on rape for the first time, and her eyes widened in outrage and horror.

"That's right, slut, I've been having you ever since your first hypnotherapy session," sneered Petersen has he pounded her pussy. "I figure I've just about gone the limit with you, so I'm setting you free. All those nasty little post-hypnotic suggestions will be lifted. So you'll no longer orgasm anytime someone says 'CUNT'" -- as he said the word, of course, Carrie's body stiffened in orgasm, her pained body wracked as the spasms shot through her.

Petersen put her under, while continuing to ravish her. "From now on, the word CUNT will only cause you a pleasant glow of arousal, not an orgasm. But... heh, heh... you WILL orgasm when you're raped. And you will suck any cock placed at your lips, without question. Apart from that, your mind is your own. Although... you will be aware of how I have exploited and abused you, but you will be unable to tell anyone about it, and you will be unable to take any personal revenge upon me. If you find yourself thinking about revenge, you will pinch your clitoris. Hard."

Petersen was nearing his own climax. "As I say, apart from that, you will be a free agent. Oh, but keep dressing sexy, it suits you. Now, when I say the word CUNT, you will have one last delicious, painful orgasm, and wake up, knowing everything. Ready? You are a stupid, worthless, rape-able, spank-able little CUNT, Carrie."

Carrie woke up, orgasming in unison with Peterson. He slipped his cock from her aching pussy and wiped it dry on her bandages. He was just getting ready to leave; when he remember Dr. Sweet's request that he drain Carrie's enema. He looked around for a suitable receptacle, but saw nothing. Then a wicked thought possessed him. He removed the plastic tube from the enema bag and placed it in Carrie's mouth. With her jaw wired up, she couldn't do a thing about it, although he taped it in place to be sure. Soon, brown liquid, full of floating particles, was moving up the tube from Carrie's anus towards her mouth.

"It'll make a change from all the sperm Dr. Sweet's been feeding you," he chuckled, "Although I'm afraid this isn't as rich in protein." He watched with amusement as the fluid inched up the tube towards Carrie's helpless lips, her eyes wide and staring as she watched its progress. He stayed until she'd had her first few spluttering gulps of the foul brew, and then went on his way, whistling, leaving her to it. The night staff would be in to see her in af ew hours...

The End
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Admittedly, this ending is similar to Carrie's Hard Case, but bear in mind the stories were written decades apart. Hope you enjoyed this - let me know what parts pleased you most or least, and especially if there's anything you'd like to see happen to Carrie infuture - we must keep the little cunt suffering!

[Shocker]

It’s good that Carrie finally gets professional help. Her accidents get far to frequent, I’m sure Dr Petersen will do his utmost to get into her.

[RapeU]

Carrie just can't stop having rape misadventures. How unfortunate for her, but very fortunate for those around her!

[ShibbolethParty]

Enjoying reading the Carrie stories as they're reposted - I think I read many of them back on the old forums, but certainly not all.

I've ended up being mostly a mind control subgenre writer, so it's fun to see a Carrie story in that direction. I appreciate the dynamic later in the story of Peterson sending Carrie back to work to escalating abuse, and finding out what happened afterwards. I enjoy that kind of pointless cruelty that's not even for the sake of personal sexual gratification. Similarly the businessmen painfully torturing Carrie with whatever was on hand was great.

You mentioned in "Carrie Gets the Cane" that you moved away from letting Carrie climax (so perhaps the hypnosis placed on her at the end wore off, eh?), but I think it works well here given the Mind Control theme and, of course, the fact that it's entirely in the service of humiliating her.

Not to harp on formatting, but it seems like there should be some kind of indication of scene breaks, at the very least after the line ending "Nevertheless, you're going back. Because I say so..." It reads oddly at the moment since it's the same character speaking before and after the scene change. Still hoping your Carrie stories can be moved over to somewhere more solid like AO3 someday, with proper formatting! I'd be happy to help with such a project.

[skuttrusk]

Thanks!

Formatting takes a fair bit of effort here, so I must have missed the places where formerly there would have been a row of asterisks or something.

I think Carrie's mental reprogramming extends only so far as impelling her to dress a bit provocatively, thereby helping get her raped all the time. I forgot all about the other post-hypnotic (indecent) suggestions!

I did a couple of other mind control stories over the years, if I can find them I'll post them eventually!

[Neighbor]

I'm a sucker for a good hypno story. This sort of thing is ALWAYS fun for me.
A story that drops hypno-traps into an unlucky bimbo's day. Delicious.