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TITCAGE

Claire didn’t want to work at Titcage. But work experience during the school holidays was compulsory for seniors and despite her best efforts she couldn’t convince her parents or teachers that the so-called Committee For Gender Equity was against women, not for them.

Funded by church groups, conservatives, and the world’s richest men, the organisation existed for one purpose: to change community and government attitudes to women and restore women to a role solely as sextoys, housekeepers and breeders. They famously released nude and compromising photos of prominent women to destroy their reputations, and were rumoured to have organised several unsolved rapes committed against feminist lobbyists.

But Claire’s mother didn’t follow politics and was set firmly in the belief that any organisation run by intelligent men would be a good and respectable place for a teen girl to be educated. And so Claire found herself on a Monday arriving, nervous and scared, at the fifth floor offices of the political think-tank colloquially known as Titcage.

The lobby was modern and professional. One wall showed a photo collage of smiling women. Only on a closer look did Claire notice they were all wearing dog collars.

The receptionist was a beautiful blonde. She was dressed in smart business clothes but with a plunging neckline that revealed much of her breasts and a black leather dog collar. It was definitely a dog collar, not a choker. It even had a round name tag attached to it. The tag said 'Girl'.

Claire herself was more modestly dressed. Her blonde hair was cut in a trim but attractive style; her skirt was short but her blouse mostly hid the large tits that Claire was always embarrassed by. Looking at the pretty receptionist made Claire uncomfortably aware of her tits, and the way that they were bouncing and rubbing against the inside of her bra as she moved. Hesitantly, Claire approached the receptionist.

‘Um, hello,’ she began. ‘I’m here for the...’

‘Work experience,’ finished the receptionist. ‘Yes, you must be Claire. Michael was expecting you. Come right this way.’ She stood up from behind the desk and led Claire through a door, into a small meeting room. ‘We just need to do your ID card, and then we can take you through to see everyone.’

‘I didn’t catch your name,’ said Claire nervously.

‘Oh, it’s on my tag, just like everyone here,’ replied the receptionist. ‘It’s Girl. Which reminds me, we have one for you.’ She passed Claire a leather dog collar. A shining tag hanging from it read ‘Claire’. Claire took it awkwardly.

‘What is this for?’ she asked.

‘To wear,’ replied Girl. ‘Titcage uniform. It’s just like a name badge, really. Now take off your shirt.’

‘What?’ asked Claire. She had just finished buckling the collar around her neck. The leather felt cold and rough against her skin.

‘Take off your shirt. For your ID. I need to get your measurements.’

Claire didn’t like this at all but felt trapped. Maybe this was normal. Maybe it was just like a medical examination. Slowly, she took off her shirt, revealing her lacy pink bra and the huge soft tits it encased.

‘Good girl,’ said Girl reassuringly. She stepped forward with a measuring tape and ran it around Claire’s bust. She pulled it tightly, and Claire felt it dig into her breasts uncomfortably. Girl looked down at the result shown by the tape, then grabbed Claire’s left tit in her hand and squeezed painfully.

‘Ow!’ complained Claire. She felt weird. She couldn’t think of the last time another person had touched her boobs so directly.

‘Just checking if they’re real, baby,’ said Girl. ‘And I see they are. 34DD, natural. Now just some ID photos.’

‘Can I put my shirt on?’ asked Claire.

‘Oh, no, honey, just wait there,’ replied Girl. She stepped behind the camera, and snapped several photographs. Claire twisted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the idea of being photographed without her shirt on. When Girl was done, she told Claire to wait while she stepped out. Claire remained in the room, shirtless and miserable, for several minutes, until Girl returned.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I guess you can get dressed for now. Here’s your ID. It’s just a temporary one so it’s not complete.’

It was the strangest ID card Claire had ever seen, hanging on a lanyard obviously meant to go around her neck. At the top it showed her named - Claire Morgan - but it had not one ID photo but three. The first showed her face, as expected, but the other two were focused on her breasts and crotch. The crotch photo showed only the cloth of her skirt, but the breast photo recognisably showed her half-bare tits and her bra. Next to the photos were a series of measurements: “Tits: 34DD, real. Cunt capacity: - Milk production: - Fertility: - Fuck grade: - Rank Z"

‘What is this?’ asked Claire, outraged.

‘Your relevant statistics, silly,’ replied Girl. ‘It holds everything relevant to know about a woman. Here, look at mine.’ She held out her own ID. In it, Girl was completely naked. The photos showed her large, bare udders, and her naked shaved twat, splayed open for inspection. The text read, “Tits: 32D, real. Cunt capacity: 1.35 litres. Milk production: 1 quart, B grade. Fertility: C Fuck grade: B Rank T."

‘Don’t worry,’ Girl added. ‘You’re only temporary, you don’t need any of that.’

‘This is demeaning,’ said Claire. She felt herself blushing bright red. The receptionist had just showed her a photo of her vagina. Claire felt embarrassed by seeing another girl’s private parts.

‘Baby, you don’t demean a pig by grading its bacon,’ replied Girl. ‘But if you don’t want to work here no one is forcing you.’

Claire wanted to leave. This place was creepy with its collars and degrading badges. But her mother would have a fit if she blew off work experience on the first day no matter how good the reason.

‘No, I’ll stay,’ said Claire uncomfortably.

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Girl. ‘Then follow me.’

She led Claire down a series of sumptuous corridors and showed her into a large office where a handsome middle aged man sat behind a huge mahogany desk. He had short, fashionably cropped brown hair, his chin showed a hint of stubble, and he was wearing a suit that must be expensive judging by how good it looked. He rose as she entered.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Michael. You must be Claire.’

‘Yes,’ said Claire awkwardly. ‘Um, hi.’

Michael smiled, and gestured in a way that suggested he wanted nothing more than to be here, talking to Claire. It made Claire feel good; no matter how weird the situation, it always felt nice to be liked by a handsome man.

‘Take a seat,’ said Michael. He looked at Claire’s escort. ‘Girl, be a good twat and leave us.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Girl, exiting.

Did he just call her a twat? thought Claire as she sat down. The walls of the room were immensely distracting. Each side of the room bore giant posters of naked collared women. Most were kneeling. Some appeared to have semen dripping from theirs lips, breasts or vaginas. Claire had come across porn before on the internet but she’d never looked at it for long. Here she had trouble looking anywhere without a bare cunt or naked bust in her field of view.

‘I’m so glad you decided to do your work experience here, Claire,’ said Michael. And Claire noticed he wasn’t looking at her face - he was staring unashamedly at her tits. He didn’t make eye contact at all. It was like her face didn’t matter. What a creep! she thought, and folded her arms over her chest.

‘Let me tell you a little about Titcage,’ said Michael. ‘What we are about is fixing some of the gender inequities in modern society.’ He kept staring at Claire’s breasts. ‘Did you know, Claire, that less than five percent of rape allegations by women result in a conviction? Does it bother you that so many so called rape victims turn out to be lying sluts?’

‘Um, I guess,’ said Claire.

‘We provide public advocacy about the truth about rape allegations. You may have seen our TV campaign, “She’s Probably Lying”. We also compile information to help those charged defend themselves.’ Michael smiled charmingly, still looking only at Claire’s tits. ‘That’s where we’re going to start you.’

‘We also feel it’s unfortunate that women today are told about professions they are unsuited for, like science or the military, while more traditional female professions like stripping and prostitution are not allowed to present at career fairs. We help young women find appropriate and satisfying careers in these fields.’

‘We also lobby for laws designed to give women the structure and discipline they need and fund research that will help build a better society.’

Chapter Two

THE DATABASE

Michael led Claire out of his office and down a corridor to a large open plan workspace. Here too the walls held posters of nude, collared, recently fucked girls. Some had been photographed in the act of sucking large anonymous cocks. Most of the women in the posters seemed happy but a couple were visibly crying.

About twenty people were working in this space; mostly women, but also a couple of smartly dressed men. Several offices were visible through doorways and the occupants of these were without exception male. The women working here all wore collars and a charitable person would have described their clothing as sexy. Claire would have called it downright slutty. All the women wore short skirts, some so short their panties were visible, and all wore tops that called attention to their breasts. Few appeared to be wearing bras.

‘You’ll be working here,’ said Michael, ushering Claire to a clear desk bearing a computer. ‘You’ll be doing work in our rape support area. We find it’s incredibly helpful for rape accused to be able to show their accuser is a slut. What we’ve done is developed an algorithm that trawls the internet for images, recognises pictures of people, identifies ones that appear to be women showing a lot of skin or posed with a man’s cock or a sex toy, and then tries to cross-match them with photos already known to be of an identified woman such as from Facebook.’ He smiled at Claire (or rather, Claire’s tits) as he seated her at the desk. ‘What we need you to do is check the work done by the algorithm. You look at each photo, check that it is actually a girl in a compromising position, describe the photo using text with a focus on what makes it embarrassing, and then judge whether the girl is the one identified by the program.’

Michael called over a big breasted brunette nearby, looking at her tits the whole time. The woman approached, keeping her eyes lowered. She had a soft, kind face, and was blushing slightly. She was wearing only a bikini top above the waist, and Claire thought she could hear a buzzing sound coming from beneath the woman’s short skirt. Her face was flushed and she smelled like sex.

‘This is Pussy,’ said Michael. ‘She will be your supervisor. Do what she says and go to her if you have any questions.’ Pussy waved shyly at Claire.

Over the next hour Pussy helped Claire set up. She was helpful and a good teacher although Claire was uncomfortable every time Pussy’s barely clothed breasts brushed against her cheek or hair as Pussy leant over her shoulder to operate the computer. Claire noted from Pussy’s ID that her breasts were 34DD, the same as Claire, and they produced Grade A milk.

Finally Claire was left to work alone. It was simple enough. The software returned an image and Claire described it. 'Amateur photograph,' wrote Claire. 'Blonde girl topless at party.' 'Professional photograph. Brunette masturbates.' She looked at the suggested identity matches and confirmed that yes, the blonde was 17 year old schoolgirl Ellie Ryan, and yes, the brunette was porn star Brea Lynn.

She’d only done a couple when Michael called her into his office. ‘What is this?’ he asked, showing her a picture she had worked on.

‘A brunette masturbating,’ replied Claire.

‘Wrong, said Michael. ‘It’s a naked big titted brunette whore fingering her shaved twat in an unmade bed. She’s lying on her back with her legs spread and she’s looking at the camera, begging to be raped.’

Michael sighed. ‘You’ve got to add detail, Claire. And get the vocabulary right. Girls and women don’t pose naked for photos. These aren’t girls or women - they are sluts, whores and rapetoys. And vagina and breast are words for anatomy textbooks. Sluts have tits, udders, fuckbags or boobs. They have cunts and twats. Try again and this time I don’t want to see you use the same name for a body part more than once until lunch.’

Claire returned to her desk. She had already been blushing from staring so intently at naked vaginas and breasts. Describing them in detail made her go bright red. But she tried her best.

'Pro photo. Naked blonde slut kneeling on kitchen floor. Left hand is squeezing her C cup tits. Three fingers of right hand are buried in her cunt. Eyes closed, gasping.'

'Amateur photo. Schoolgirl wearing white button-up shirt sits on couch. She is masturbating her twat with a cucumber. Her shirt is open to reveal small boobs with erect nipples.'

Some quick work with Google turned up new synonyms.

‘Nude whore shown from waist up. Blonde smiling holding her D cup fuckbags. Sperm drips from lips onto cleavage.’

‘Hidden camera shows brunette tart in pink top masturbating her fuckhole while pissing at a public toilet.’

‘Big uddered fucktoy crawls nude across beach. Sand is sticking to het fat melons which hang down from her chest.’

‘Buxom rapebait - sexy tease - rapeable bitch - her hands on her boobs - slut balloons - fuck handles - rapemelons - fingering her beaver quim cum catcher sluthole fucktunnel snatch.’

Claire thought about the words she was using. They were each demeaning in their own way. ‘Slut’ implied that a woman fucked around, was unable to control her need for sex, and was dirty and disgusting. ‘Bitch’ implied she was a female dog. ‘Whore’ meant that fucking was her job and was a commodity that could be bought and traded. ‘Fucktoy’ meant that her whole purpose was to be casually fucked for the amusement of men; ‘Rapetoy’ was much the same but implied that forcing her and hurting her was part of the fun.

Likewise, ‘tits’ was derived from ‘teats’ and was a reminder that breasts were for making milk. ‘Udders’ was similar but gave the implication the woman was literally a milk cow. ‘Fuck handles’ suggested that a woman could be sexually controlled by grabbing and pulling her breasts. ‘Melons’ implied that breasts were for squeezing, biting, and could be bought and sold. ‘Fuckbags’ showed that the purpose of breasts was for fucking.

And the names for a vagina were even worse. ‘Cunt’ and ‘twat’ were just designed to sound ugly and make women feel ashamed of their vagina. ‘Pussy’ implied that the vagina and its owner were domesticated pets. ‘Sluthole’, ‘fucktunnel’ and ‘cumcatcher’ were all self explanatory.

Claire felt dirty using the words. They were disgusting and they made her feel like a traitor to women. But there was also a certain challenge in coming up with new words constantly. She had to research a lot on Google - and see some disgusting porn in the process - and finally she had to make up her own words. ‘Rapehole’ was one of hers, and so was ‘milksacks’. She was particularly proud of that one.

As she became lost in creating new descriptions for tits and cunts, the morning just flew by.

Chapter 3

THE TOILET

Around 11 am Claire felt thirsty. She had been working all day, and felt flushed and overheated from blushing so much at what she was looking at. She looked around and spotted a cool, inviting water cooler across the room. She got up and headed towards it.

‘Psst!’ said a voice. Claire turned and saw a thin, pretty long-haired teenaged blonde looking at her. The girl had an elfin, friendly face, a short wrap skirt and a button up shirt knotted under her medium-sized tits. Her tag identified her as Kitten, and according to her ID she was a B-grade fuck.

Kitten made a no-go motion towards the water cooler, crossing her hands across each other. ‘That one’s for the men,’ said Kitten. ‘We drink from the cordial.’ She pointed to another cooler, filled with red liquid.

‘Thanks!’ said Claire. She thought the prohibition was strange, but she liked the look of Kitten - she seemed friendly - and she appreciated the advice. She headed to the cordial cooler and poured off a plastic cup full of the liquid. It tasted strange, she discovered, but thick and sweet. Claire drank it all and then poured another cup to take back to her desk. As she watched, she was aware of all the men in the room watching her - or, more specifically, watching her tits. She blushed and sat back down, ready to describe the next naked whore the system offered up.

The cordial worked its way through Claire’s system, as she stared at a succession of embarrassing photos of naked sluts. About 90 minutes after she’d drunk the cordial, she became aware of a growing pressure in her bladder, and realised she needed to pee. It was almost lunchtime anyway, but she needed to go now, so she got up and headed for the toilets.

The toilet doors opened directly onto the open plan office, and were marked with the usual male and female signs, but the text was unusual. They read “girls” and “people”. Claire didn’t like the implication that girls weren’t people, but she entered the “girls” door anyway.

The room inside was a cool, and gently lit. Claire was immensely confused by it. It didn’t look like the toilets she’d expected. There were no stalls and no wash basins - just a large tiled room with a low bench at one end and some shower-style hoses and small indentations in the wall at the other. She turned around and left again.

She spotted Kitten’s desk nearby. ‘Hey,’ she said to Kitten, walking over to the girl. ‘Where are the toilets?’

‘Through there,’ said Kitten, pointing at the door Claire had just used.

‘No, that’s the showers,’ said Claire, whispering. People were looking at her and she felt her face starting to flush. She felt stupid being the new girl who didn’t know where the toilets were.

Claire had always been embarrassed by toilets. As a young girl she’d been mortified when her father had talked to her friends about how Claire sometimes wet the bed. And she’d never lived down having accidentally wet herself in fifth grade. She’d never been able to get past the idea that she was bad at pissing, that she was stupid and dirty because of it. It was enormously hard even to talk to Kitten about it now.

Kitten laughed. ‘They can be a bit confusing. Let me show you. I need to go anyway.’ Kitten reached down between her legs and adjusted something that Claire couldn’t see, and then got up and walked the blushing Claire back inside the ‘toilets’.

‘They don’t install actual toilets,’ said Kitten, inside. The two girls were alone in here, which Claire found helped. She was still blushing though. Kitten continued: ‘Women don’t need toilets and in any case they cost too much. There’s drains in the floor, so you just take off any clothes that are in the way and piss standing up.’

‘What?’ asked Claire, horrified.

‘It’s just like camping,’ said Kitten. ‘Oh, except don’t squat. You’ve got to do it standing up. Squatting’s unattractive and if the supervisors catch you doing it you’ll get in trouble.’ Kitten peeled off her short skirt and laid it on the low bench. Claire gasped. It felt wrong to be here with Kitten disrobing. It felt slutty and wrong. Kitten was wearing no panties underneath, and Claire blushed to find herself looking at Kitten’s shaved pussy. It was cute - exactly like what Claire imagined a perfect vagina to look like. And right through her clit, there was a small metal ring. It looked painful, but at the same time it fascinated Claire.

Kitten closed her eyes, blushing a little, and then slowly urine began to pulse and trickle from her twat and run down her legs. It pooled at her feet and then ran off to a nearby drain. Claire couldn’t believe she was watching another girl piss in front of her but it would be impolite to leave. She had no friends here except Kitten and she didn’t know what she’d say if she left - clearly what Kitten was doing was normal here.

Claire flashed back to when she was 14 and her father had come into the bathroom to find her peeing in the bathtub because the toilet was broken. Claire had already been humiliated even while she was alone, squatting in the cold porcelain tub and peeing, and it had been worse when her father had grabbed her, spread her legs, and starting spanking her still-piss-damp pussy. Claire had cried and wailed for hours and that night had lain awake thinking about what a dirty animal she must be to have deserved such punishment.

Now, Claire watched as Kitten pissed, entranced by the river of urine running down the girl’s beautiful leg. She watched until finally the flow stopped. When it did, Kitten walked to the wall, took down on of the shower hoses Claire had seen, turned it on, and rinsed her legs and cunt clean. She moaned a little as the water played across her inner thighs.

‘You’ll want to wear heels to work, like you are now,’ said Kitten as she washed, angling the water at her pussy. ‘If you wear socks they’ll just get pissy and wet. And you need to be careful with the hose or you’ll get your shirt wet. A lot of girls just get completely naked to be sure.’ She pressed the hose against her vagina and sighed contentedly.

‘This is weird,’ said Claire unhappily.

‘No, it’s no weirder than sitting on a bowl,’ said Kitten. ‘Soon you’ll wonder how you pissed any other way. Also, the washing off is just for your own comfort. The organisation doesn’t care if your legs are pissy, you won’t get in trouble for that.’ She turned off the hose and hung it back up.

‘What if I need to...’ said Claire, and stopped.

‘Shit?’ laughed Kitten. ‘Just stick your ass in one of the indents in the wall and poop. They’ll take care of the cleaning up.’ She put her skirt back on. ‘Good luck, honey,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you at lunch if you want?’

‘Okay,’ said Claire. When Kitten had left, Claire nervously took off her skirt and pulled off her panties and put them on the bench. Then she moved to stand right above a drain, spread her legs a little, and tried to relax. It took a while, but finally piss began to spurt from her vagina. Initially it arced out and splashed away from her, but soon it slowed to a trickle and ran down her legs. Claire felt strange and dirty and was just glad no one could see her. She kept worrying that someone would burst in and spank her cunt for being so dirty. She looked at her hairy pussy and wondered what it would be like to have a shaved beaver like Kitten. When she was done she rinsed off her legs and dressed.

At lunch she found Kitten in the small break room, alone. The break room was refreshingly normal, except for more of the omnipresent posters of nude women. It had a normal-looking fridge and cupboards and a table. Claire sat down next to Kitten.

‘Is your name really Kitten?’ she asked.

Kitten laughed. ‘No, it’s Sarah, but I’m called Kitten here. Well, actually my full work name is Slutkitten, but we mostly use the short names because it’s less distressing to new people like you.’

‘Slutkitten?’ said Claire. ‘But that’s so demeaning!’

‘It’s just a name,’ said Kitten. ‘It’s no different from sorority hazing or working at a Hooters bar or whatever. It’s just part of the way the organisation promotes itself.’

Claire looked at Kitten’s badge. It read “Tits: 32C, real. Cunt capacity: 1.2 litres. Milk production: None Fertility: N/A Fuck grade: C Rank: X". ‘What does the stuff on your badge mean?’ she asked.

‘Tits are self explanatory,’ said Kitten, cupping hers. ‘To test cunt capacity they put a balloon in your pussy and then pump it up until you cry, and that’s your capacity. Milk production is for lactating women and it shows how much they express a day and how tasty it is. Fertility is how likely you are to get pregnant. They can test that but mostly they don’t bother unless you have a high rank or you’ve already been pregnant. Fuck grade is how satisfying you are to men when they fuck you. Rank is how high in the organisation you are - the closer to A the better. You can order around anyone with a lower rank than you.’

‘So fuck grade - how do they know what that is?’ asked Claire, scared of the answer.

‘Well, for me they made me give them phone numbers for my ex boyfriends and then called them to ask how I was in bed.’ Kitten looked uncomfortable. ‘I had to listen in. It was so humiliating I was in tears. They asked how easily I got wet, and if I liked it when they called me names, and if I got wet when I was abused. I had to hear my boyfriends say I was only adequate in bed, not good. He said I didn’t swallow enough of his cum and I didn’t agree with him that I was a whore. And then they gave me the C grade.’

‘What if you’re a virgin?’ asked Claire. She was a virgin.

‘Then you get a V for virgin, and you have to ask your first fuck to call the office for an interview when you finally get laid,’ said Kitten. ‘You sure have a lot of questions!’

‘This place is weird and embarrassing,’ said Claire. ‘I hate it.’

‘But they’re so influential!’ said Kitten. ‘They’re setting lawmaking policy all over the country! Don’t you want in on the ground floor?’

Claire felt close to tears. She just shook her head.

‘Well you can always just quit, I guess,’ said Kitten. ‘Which would be a shame. You seem nice!’ She reached out and gave Claire a friendly hug, and Claire hugged her back.

It felt good to be liked, but not so good as to make Claire forget pissing down her legs.

Chapter 4

AFTER WORK

Claire kept working, though, to get through the day. She described dozens of cunts, twats, and udders. She was embarrassed to occasionally feel her cunt getting wet looking at all the naked women. Every time it happened she took a break by getting up and getting another cup of cordial. She had to take a lot of breaks for that reason.

As a result she needed to use the toilets twice more that afternoon. The first time Kitten accompanied her again, and this time watched as a blushing Claire pissed down her own legs. The second time Claire went on her own but found her supervisor Pussy already there, just finishing washing her own legs. Pussy watched as Claire got undressed but thankfully left before Claire started to pee. Both times Claire felt dirty and took extra time hosing her pussy and legs clean. When Claire was done peeing she realised she needed to shit too.

She awkwardly backed up against one of the indentations in the wall. It fit her ass perfectly. She slowly relaxed and finally managed to shit in the unfamiliar position. The poop fell away through a hole at the back of the indentation. Then Claire got a shock! A slowly rotating device extended from the back of the indentation, covered with wet rags. It probed between her ass cheeks and rubbed the rags right up against her anus. Claire almost jumped away but then though about having to wash the shit off her ass with the hose, and decided to stay put instead. The device was pleasurable, she found, although the motion of the wet rags embarrassingly called to mind the image of a rough tongue licking forcefully at her anus. She felt her pussy moistening and tried to think of other things.

Finally her butt was clean and the device retracted. Claire dressed and left.

After work she was asked to see Michael on her way out.

‘Three things,’ said Michael as Claire entered his office. ‘First, you’re doing a great job, keep it up.’

‘Thank you,’ said Claire. She had no intention of saying she wouldn’t be coming back. He could find out tomorrow.

‘Second, shave your pussy,’ said Michael.

‘What?’ asked Claire.

‘It’s hairy and it shouldn’t be,’ said Michael. ‘Hairy pussies show you have no intention of trying to please men. Shaved cunts are Titcage uniform. Shave it off tonight.’

‘All right, whatever,’ said Claire, having no intention of shaving.

‘Don’t turn up to work tomorrow with a hairy twat,’ said Michael. “We’ll send you straight home.’

Claire reflected that Pussy must have tipped Michael off about her pubic hair after seeing her in the toilets. She kept her mouth shut.

‘Third, this is a battery powered video camera,’ said Michael, handing Claire a small device. ‘Set it up in a corner of your bedroom at home so it can see the whole room. It’ll broadcast back to us.’

‘What?’ exploded Claire. ‘Why?’

‘Titcage expects certain behaviours of its employees, even work experience staff,’ said Michael. ‘The camera just checks up on you. Nothing sinister. Again, make sure it’s on before coming to work tomorrow if you want to work here.’

I don’t, thought Claire, but she said nothing, took the camera, and left.

At home she broached the subject at dinner.

‘Mum, I’m not going back to that place,’ she said, between mouthfuls of peas and lamb. ‘They’re weird and gross.’

‘Oh, here we go,’ her mother said. Her mother had had Claire early, aged only 13, and was now only 31 herself. She had Claire’s big breasts and long brown hair. ‘You’re so lazy, Claire. I’m not having it. You’re going back tomorrow.’

‘But mum, they...’ Claire started.

‘Listen to your mother,’ said Claire’s father, a heavyset 40 year old who worked as a bricklayer.

‘I don’t want you ending up as a stripper or a prostitute, Claire,’ said her mother. ‘You’re going to learn to work in a real office and that’s the end of it.’

‘But I can’t...’ said Claire.

‘ENOUGH,’ exploded her father. His face was red. He got up from the table, grabbed Claire by the hair, and pulled her roughly over to the couch.

Claire was shocked. Her father never treated her like this. ‘Daddy...’ she started - but was even more shocked when he pushed her down over his knee, lifted her skirt, and pulled down her panties.

SMACK! His hand came down on her ass. Claire squealed in pain.

‘Your father and I have had a talk, Claire,’ said her mother calmly, as if nothing strange was happening. ‘You know your school grades haven’t been good and frankly we’re not happy with the crowd of girls you hang around with.’

SMACK! went her father’s hand on her ass again.

‘We think it was a mistake to stop physically disciplining you, and we’re going to start again. You’ll do as you’re told and be a decent hardworking girl, or you’ll be spanked.’

SMACK! and SMACK!

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. Her father was spanking her bare ass in front of her mother. Her mother was just watching. Claire wiggled, trying to get free.

SMACK!

Her father landed 20 agonising blows on her ass. Each one made Claire feel dirty. Her father’s hand was touching her bare bottom. Her ass and pussy were exposed. She was being spanked like a baby in front of her family.

‘Have you learned your lesson, Claire?’ asked her mother.

Claire was sobbing, tears running down her face. This had been an awful day and this was an awful end to it. ‘Yes,’ she cried.

‘And are you going back to that organisation tomorrow?’ asked her mother.

‘Yes,’ cried Claire, and she knew she would.

Afterwards, Claire’s ass stung, but she knew she had work to do now. She borrowed one of her father’s razors and some shaving cream, and one of her mother’s hand mirrors, and sat on the toilet with her legs spread. Carefully, she shaved her cunt, removing every last hair. Touching her pussy constantly as she shaved made her wet - wetter than she would have expected. She had to pause three times to breathe slower and let her twat calm down and stop drooling before she could resume. When she was done, her pussy looked just like Kitten’s, and just like all the sluts she had spent all day demeaning. It was totally, sluttily, nude. She looked just like them.

Then she set up the camera. It had an easy adhesive and it glued neatly to the top-right corner of her bedroom, with a full view of everything. She pressed the “ON” button on the side and a small well-hidden red light lit up.

Then, crying, she got into bed. As she fell asleep, her last thoughts were wondering why her cunt still felt so wet and engorged.

Chapter 5

DAY TWO

Day Two was better, mostly just by being the same, and not worse. Michael seemed happy to see her. He didn’t comment on either the camera or her vagina but she felt somehow he knew that her pussy was bare now.

She spent all day describing and cataloguing naked girls again. She had to use the toilet several times - that red cordial seemed to go straight through her - but she had started to get used to it. She found she particularly liked the feeling of the device ‘licking’ her ass clean. On one trip to the toilet she met another of the female staff, a petite blonde whose tag described her as ‘Toy’. Toy didn’t piss quite like Kitten. She left her panties on as she pissed, and Claire watched as they became damp and then soaked, before the piss escaped to run down Toy’s legs. When she was done, Toy took the panties off, and then pushed them up inside her cunt, before putting a clean pair on over the top.

‘Why do you do that?’ asked Claire, worried that maybe she was supposed to do the same.

Toy smiled kindly. ‘I’m trying to rank up,’ she said. ‘More’s expected of you when you want to do that.’ She dressed and left without elaborating. Claire wondered what it would feel like to have wet pissy panties in her cunt, and shuddered a little.

At lunch Claire chatted to Kitten. She found out Kitten was studying sociology by distance education, and liked sewing and dancing. Claire had always wanted to dance and she listened eagerly as Kitten described ballet lessons and recitals.

At the end of the day Michael called Claire in again. ‘Good girl,’ he told her. He got out from behind his desk and patted Claire on the head. It was demeaning and Claire blushed - but it also felt good to be praised.

‘We’ve got some training for you, in fact,’ said Michael. ‘Here.’ He passed her a small plastic capsule, and what looked like an iPod with headphones. The capsule was connected to the iPod.

‘What’s this?’ asked Claire.

‘Wear it to sleep tonight,’ said Michael. ‘The earphones go in your ears, obviously, and the capsule goes in your twat.’

‘What?’ said Claire. ‘No!’

Michael looked stern. ‘Look, we don’t want to fuck around. If you want to work here, make sure you take the training tonight. If you don’t, don’t turn up tomorrow. It’s fine either way but don’t get your panties in a knot about it.’

Unhappily Claire took the device and went home.

She was quiet all dinner. When her mother asked her how work had been, she said, ‘Fine.’ She didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Her mother looked satisfied with this answer.

That night Claire thought about ignoring the device. She wanted to. But she looked up at the camera with its red light, and knew it was use the device or tell her parents that Titcage had fired her. She unhappily spread her legs and put the pod into her pussy, then put on the headphones and pressed play on the iPod.

It was a droning male voice. ‘Tits,’ it said. ‘Boobs. Fuckbags. Slutmelons. Udders. Whoresacks. Tits. Fuckbags.’ As it talked, the capsule buzzed gently in Claire's pussy, like a vibrator. It was embarassing, but quite pleasant. ‘Slutmelons. Udders. Tits. Fuckhandles.’ Then it paused, and the buzzing in her cunt stopped, and then the voice quite deliberately said, ‘Breasts.’

At the word ‘Breasts’ an explosion went off in Claire’s cunt. The capsule discharged an electric shock. Claire squealed and writhed on the bed. It was only a small shock but it had been so surprising. She went to rip the capsule out of her pussy, but then remembered the camera, and remembered the surprising brutality with which her father had beaten her ass. She left it inside her.

‘Cunt. Pussy. Sluthole,’ said the voice, and now it was a woman’s voice. ‘Rapetunnel. Twat. Beaver. Twat. Cunt. Pussy. Cunt. Cumcatcher.’ And then it paused, and then said, ‘Vagina.’ And again the capsule shocked Claire’s cunt. Claire started to cry, softly, so her parents wouldn’t hear.

Again and again, in different voices, the tape repeated disgusting and humiliating names for women and their body parts while vibrating Claire’s cunt, before ending with the traditional name and shocking it.

The last sequence Claire remembered before falling asleep, her cunt still buzzing and the tape still playing was:

‘Whore. Slut. Fucktoy. Pissdrinker. Rapetoy. Slut. Slut. Bitch. Whore.’ And then: ‘Claire.’ And the shock.

===

Chapter 6

DAY THREE

‘Petite naked redhead slutpig 69ing a big-uddered blonde lezbo,’ wrote Claire, on her third day at Titcage. ‘They each have their legs spread and are licking each other’s engorged twats.’

Claire hadn’t slept well - a combination of the vibrator running in her twat, and its regular electric shocks. She was tired and confused, and to her shame she was desperately horny. Her pussy had been drooling since she woke up and it had now made her panties quite damp. If this were any normal workplace she’d lock herself in a toilet stall for ten minutes or so and take care of it with some quick masturbation but there was no privacy at Titcage. She took another sip of her cordial and kept working.

Claire pissed twice that day. The first was at the same time as Kitten; she found herself surreptitiously watching Kitten’s pussy as she pissed, entranced by the beauty of Kitten’s pierced cunt and the warm bubbling of urine flowing from it. Kitten complimented Claire on her newly shaved twat, making Claire blush. She didn’t comment on the obvious wetness of Claire’s pussy.

The second time was with a redheaded girl called ‘Melons’. Claire was shocked to find Melons naked and openly masturbating when Claire entered the toilet. At the same time as she was masturbating, Melons was also pissing. Claire looked at her face and saw humiliation and shame there - the girl didn’t look like she wanted to be masturbating, but nevertheless she brought herself to an orgasm as Claire watched, and then staggered away to wash herself down. As horny as Claire was, she couldn’t contemplate masturbating in front of another girl like that, and so she just did her business, pissing down her legs, and then washed up and left.

Towards the end of the day she decided she felt like some sane company, and asked Kitten if she’d like to come to Claire’s house to visit. Kitten enthusiastically accepted, and the two girls travelled together by bus home to Claire’s suburb.

‘I’m so glad there’s at least someone nice at Titcage,’ said Claire.

‘So am I,’ said Kitten. She leant over and rested her head on Claire’s shoulder affectionately. It made Claire feel warm and happy.

At home they headed straight to Claire’s room. Kitten was still wearing her collar and, Claire assumed, no panties, so she wanted to avoid her parents if possible.

In her room, Claire closed the door, and turned around to find Kitten topless. She’d removed her shirt and her 32D breasts were completely bare.

‘Sarah...’ started Claire.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry!’ said Kitten, blushing. She snatched up her shirt again. ‘Oh god, I’ve been working at Titcage so long, I didn’t think. I’m just so used to relaxing like this.’

Claire felt horrible. It was weird having another girl semi-naked around but she wanted so much to have a friend at her horrible workplace, and Kitten was so nice. ‘No, it’s okay, be however you want,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I was just surprised.’

‘You’re really okay?’ asked Kitten dubiously, lowering the shirt and revealing her tits again.

‘Yes,’ said Claire, feigning confidence. Kitten smiled, dropped the shirt and climbed onto the bed, tits down, wiggling her legs in the air. The action made her skirt ride up, revealing her bare buttocks.

Looking at the half-naked girl, Claire’s cunt tingled. She looked just like so many of the nude sluts Claire had been staring at for the past three days. Girls like this are for sex, a part of her mind thought. Girls like this are sluts and rapetoys. The image of the two 69ing whores from earlier today flashed through Claire’s mind before she pushed it away.

‘So how are you finding Titcage?’ asked Kitten. Claire blushed at what she’d been thinking about.

‘I hate it,’ said Claire. ‘But my parents won’t let me quit.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ said Kitten. ‘Is it really so hard to look at porn all day?’

‘It’s slutty,’ said Claire unhappily.

‘I have to look at it all day too,’ said Kitten. ‘Am I a slut?’ She rolled over onto her back as she spoke. Her tits and pussy were both clearly visible. Claire blushed.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ said Claire. ‘You’re so lovely. I just...’

‘It’s different to what you’re used to,’ said Kitten. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. I’m happy there. You can be too.’

Claire sat on the bed next to Kitten. ‘They gave me this training thing. I have to put it in my... in my pussy. And it shocks me.’

Kitten looked surprised. ‘You’re so lucky!’ she exclaimed. ‘You have one of the sleep trainers? They must really like your work!’

‘What?’ asked Claire. ‘Why?’

‘Sleep trainers are like a guaranteed rank up!’ said Kitten.

Claire listened as Kitten explained the rank system. Every girl at Titcage had a rank between A and Z. A was the highest, Z the lowest. You could give orders to any girl of lower rank; you had to take them from any girl of higher rank.

‘And the men?’ asked Claire.

‘Oh, all the women are below all the men. Any man can give orders to any woman. But you’ve seen the office. Most of the staff in our area are women.’

Ranking up was based on work performance, but it was also based on commitment to the Titcage philsophy.

‘Women are below men. The further below men you make yourself, the further above other women you are. Doing stuff that shows you know your place makes you more likely to be given a higher rank,’ explained Kitten.

Claire thought of the woman she’d seen, Toy, stuffing her pissy panties into her twat. She told Kitten about it.

‘Yes, that’s it exactly. Toy’s trying to get a higher rank, because she gets bossed around by Pussy all the time and she’s sick of it.’

Claire’s cunt was throbbing. She didn’t know why all this talk was doing this to her, but her sluthole, horny and neglected all day, was growing more insistent with every minute. She found herself staring not at Kitten’s eyes, but at her beaver, and Claire’s hand had made its way to press against her own crotch without Claire quite remembering how it got there. She tried to concentrate.

‘So you’re...’ she started.

‘Rank X,’ said Kitten. ‘Higher than you.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘Which means I get to tell you what to do. For instance, right now I’m ordering you to stop pretending your pussy isn’t sopping wet. Go take care of it. I’ll wait.’

Claire blushed bright red. ‘I’m not...’ she said.

‘You are,’ said Kitten. ‘I can smell you from here. With the amount of cordial you’ve been drinking it’s no wonder. Go masturbate. You can do it here if you want, I don’t mind, but I guess you’re probably prefer some privacy.’

Humiliated, burning with shame, but grateful, Claire stumbled wordlessly away from the bed and ran to the bathroom. Almost slamming the door behind her, she sat on the toilet, lowered her panties, and furiously rubbed her twat to a shuddering and overwhelming orgasm. She tried to think of handsome men while she frigged herself but all she could think of was Kitten’s naked pussy.

During the masturbation she thought briefly - what did Kitten mean about all the cordial I drink? - but the thought was lost when Claire orgasmed, and it didn’t resurface again until much later.

Chapter 7

THE PHOTO

Claire blushed for almost an hour. She had masturbated with Kitten's knowledge. She had been told to do it by Kitten. Kitten had smelt the wetness of her cunt.

But Kitten made her feel all right about it. It was something that up to now Claire would have considered disgusting, but Kitten made Claire feel like it was normal - intimate, but normal. And in any case Kitten was mostly naked and in no position to judge.

They talked about music and films and TV. Kitten looked at photos from Claire’s trip to Tokyo last year and Claire listened to Kitten talk about performing in her school play.

Finally Kitten left. The two girls hugged at the front door, and Claire found herself genuinely regretful that Kitten had to leave. Claire had other friends, but Kitten was already her closest, just by virtue of the things they had shared.

Afterwards, Claire had dinner with her parents, watched TV and went to bed. In bed she looked at the training device for a long time, and then put on her earbuds and tentatively put the capsule into her twat, where it started buzzing happily.

‘Slut,’ said the tape. ‘Whore lesbian bitch rapetoy slut bimbo slut lesbian.’ And then the pause, and the shock, and, ‘Claire.’

Claire fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

The next morning Claire woke up horny and, remembering the day before, she learned from her mistakes and masturbated herself to a quick orgasm. Her pussy was sopping wet and her fingers slid easily in and out of her snatch and across her clitoris. She moaned quietly as she fingered herself - she'd never been able to stop herself making noise during sexual pleasure, and had always been embarassed about how slutty she sounded when she moaned like that, but it was easy to not care too much when her cunt felt this good.

It was only after she’d cum that she remembered the camera in the corner of the room watching her. Claire was mortified. She’d just fingered herself like a slut on camera. Who had been watching her? Michael? Some nameless security guard? She quickly pulled her bedsheets around her to cover her semi naked body.

Later in the shower she thought of Kitten. Kitten had gotten nude in her room too. The camera would have gotten an excellent view of that beautiful shaved slutbox and of her bare udders. Had Kitten known? Surely she had. If Claire had been given a camera then all the girls at Titcage must have one.

At work she tried to ignore her co-workers. She couldn’t stop thinking that any one of them might somehow have seen the feed from the camera and watched her fingering her twat that morning. She kept her head down and concentrated on her work.

As it turned out, she was her work. The fifth photo to appear on her display was her. In bed. Naked. Masturbating.

Claire squeaked in surprise and turned off her screen. Her face was red. Kitten and Pussy looked at her to see what was wrong. ‘It’s nothing,’ said Claire. She got up hurriedly and went straight to Michael’s office.

‘There’s a picture of me,’ she declared, out of breath, to a surprised Michael.

‘Well, of course there is,’ said Michael. ‘The system isn’t dumb. It gives you all your own ones. You wouldn’t want anyone else seeing them, after all.’

‘But...’ said Claire.

‘Titcage owns an image of you,’ said Michael, ‘and it needs to be classified. It’s not like we’re spying on you. You knew there was a camera and you did… whatever you did anyway. Here, let’s do this one together.’

He spun his computer screen round so they could both see and pressed some buttons. Suddenly the image was there - Claire fingering her nude shaved twat. Claire wanted to run out of the room and die, but she didn’t.

‘You look pretty,’ said Michael, and even in the midst of her humiliation Claire felt a buzz of pleasure at his compliment. Michael passed her the keyboard. ‘Here - could you type a description, please?’

Claire felt like crying. Not just because Michael was looking at a picture of her masturbating but because she felt the words coming to her so easily.

She typed, ‘Slutty brunette teen lies on back on bed, nightie pulled up to show her large whorish fuckbags and her shaved drooling twat. Her legs are spread and she has two fingers of her left hand buried in her sluthole. Her right hand pinches her clitoris.’

She pressed enter and her staff photo appeared. ‘Is this slut Claire Sullivan?’ asked the text. ‘Yes,’ entered Claire.

‘What will you do with this photo?’ asked Claire. She was crying now. She couldn’t help it.

‘Same as all the others,’ said Michael. ‘It will go in the database and if you ever allege rape or are otherwise a lying bitch we will bring it out as character evidence.’ He patted Claire on the head. ‘But don’t worry, Claire. You seem to me like a good girl.’

After leaving Michael’s office Claire went straight to the toilet. She took off her skirt and panties so it would look like she had been pissing and then just sat on the bench and cried for half an hour. No one came in and Claire was grateful.

Chapter 8

THE SISTER AND THE SLUTHOLE

Claire was feeling a bit better by lunch. She took out some of her upsetness on the girls she catalogued, finding particularly demeaning and filthy names to call them as she entered their tits and twats into the database. Her supervisor Pussy seemed to notice her state of mind, and kept bringing her glasses of cordial without commenting. Claire drank them gratefully.

Near lunch, Kitten introduced Claire to two new employees of Titcage. She met the first in the toilets.

Kitten was naked as Claire walked into the toilets, preparing to piss. When she saw Claire, she gestured to the other girl there. ‘Oh, Claire, this is Mackenzie. Her work name is Sluthole.’

Sluthole was short and petite, but gorgeous, with a trim, fit body and flowing brown hair. She was naked too and Claire could see she already had a silver ring through her clitoris, just like Kitten. ‘Hi Claire,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘Get naked, we were just about to piss.’

The thought of pissing as a group still felt weird to Claire but she undressed. She didn’t normally remove her top but she did here, feeling Sluthole expected it of her. She blushed as the two girls looked at her naked tits.

‘You’re cute,’ said Sluthole. And with that, she walked over and threw her arms around Claire. Before Claire knew what was happening, Sluthole was kissing her passionately on the lips, her tits rubbing against Claire’s. Claire freaked out and went very still. She’d never kissed another girl before and this stranger was poking her tongue inside Claire’s mouth. She started to blush. Then she felt something warm splash against her leg, and realised what was happening. Sluthole was pissing. She was pissing on Claire’s legs.

Claire wanted to back away but before she could Kitten said, ‘She’s a higher grade than you, Claire. She’s an X. You have to do what she says.’

Sluthole stopped kissing Claire for a moment. Claire gasped for breath. ‘She’s right,’ said Sluthole. ‘And what I want you do to is piss with me. Can you do that for me, twat?’ Before Claire could reply she kissed Claire again.

Claire was trapped. She felt awful. She felt like she was being raped. But Kitten had told her before about the hierarchy, and if she broke it Titcage would probably fire her, and her father would beat her for days. She started to cry softly as Sluthole kissed her, and then, giving in, released her bladder.

Piss spurted from her pussy and splashed on Sluthole’s twat. Then it arced downward to soak Sluthole’s legs, and then finally Claire’s own legs.

It was only when Claire’s bladder was empty that Sluthole released her and broke off the kiss. ‘Thank you,’ the girl said, smiling cruelly. She rinsed her legs wrapped her skirt around her waist and left.

Kitten could see Claire about to cry. She came closer and hugged Claire. Once again naked tits were pressed against Claire’s but because it was Kitten, Claire didn’t mind.

Claire felt awful. She felt like she had been raped. She hated remembering Sluthole pissing on her leg and being forced to piss in return. She hated remembering Sluthole’s soft wet tongue exploring her mouth. Most of all she hated remembering the little spasm in her cunt that had signalled her starting to become aroused by the whole degrading experience.

‘It’ll be all right,’ whispered Kitten, and Claire hugged her friend tightly in thanks.

After Claire had rinsed and dressed, Kitten took her to meet the other new starter in the break room. He was a nineteen year old boy named Jim and Claire had an immediate crush on him.

Jim shook her hand; he told her he liked her dress. Claire blushed and then blushed further when she realised he was actually looking at her face not her tits. He told her he was hoping for a career in social policy and that he was studying at university. He told her he looked forward to seeing her again.

Claire went back to her desk blushing happily to herself. Meeting a cute boy had helped her forget the degrading morning. As she resumed cataloguing sluts she smiled and dreamed about kissing Jim.

That evening Claire got even more unwelcome news. Her sister Stephanie was moving home.

Stephanie was sixteen to Claire’s seventeen. She had smaller boobs, a willowy body and silky blonde hair down to her waist that had always made Claire jealous.

She had moved out two months ago to live with another girl. More run away than moved out, really. Her parents were furious both that Steph had run away and that she was a lesbian.

When Claire got home that evening she found her sister bare assed, cunt showing, bent tits down over het father’s knee as he spanked her. Steph wailed and cried.

Long hours at work had trained Claire’s eye. She saw a girl in a humiliating position, and she looked straight at the girl’s cunt. What she saw disturbed her on several levels. First, Steph’s pussy was shaved, just like Claire’s. A slut’s pussy, thought Claire, before she could stop herself. Secondly, Steph’s pussy was wet. Claire’s father didn’t appear to have noticed, but Steph’s cute labia were definitely engorged and her slut nectar was smeared across her inner thighs. And thirdly, looking at Steph’s pussy made Claire aroused. A twat like that is for raping, her mind thought, and her own cunt spasmed happily in response. Claire stepped down on those feelings hard, locking up the confusing emotions in the back of her mind, at least until she understood what was happening.

Claire’s mother filled her in. ‘Your sister has had a quarrel with that slut she was living with, and now she needs to come home,’ she said. ‘Of course, we’ve turned her room into a study, but she can sleep with you until we’re sure she’s serious about staying this time.’

Claire was horrified. ‘What? Mum, no!’

‘I don’t want to hear argument, Claire. She’s your sister and she needs somewhere to sleep.’

Claire looked back at Steph, still wailing as Claire’s father beat her naked ass. Claire tried not to look at Steph’s alluringly nude pussy. She turned back to her mother. ‘Mum, why is dad spanking her?’

‘It’s part of the deal. She gets a spanking every night for two weeks because she ran away and because she did immoral things with a woman. If she takes her punishment she gets to stay.’

Claire’s dad finished spanking Stephanie and the teen girl got up, rubbing her sore ass.

Dinner went by in sullen silence. Steph said not a word to anyone. Claire was brooding over having to share her room with her brat of a teen sister.

At night Claire changed into nightclothes in the bathroom as usual, to avoid the gaze of the camera, but when she came back to her room she found Steph completely naked, in the process of pulling panties up to cover what Claire had trouble not thinking of as her nude shaved whore-tunnel.

‘Jesus, Claire! Privacy!’ spat Claire’s sister, attempting to cover both her tits and cunt with her hands, and dropping her panties in the process.

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Claire.

‘Sor-ry!’ mocked Stephanie in a ridiculous falsetto.

Fine, thought Claire. I won’t warn you about the camera. And tomorrow you will be ‘blonde teen slut bares udders and fuckhole while changing clothes’.

They slept together that night; Stephanie right at the edge of the bed and trying to steal the blankets. Claire had her training device on with the sound turned down and her legs clenched to muffle the buzz of the vibrator.

‘Did you really have sex with a girl?’ asked Claire, just before falling asleep.

‘Her name was Jenna,’ replied Stephanie.

Friday morning Claire wanted to masturbate, but couldn’t with Steph around. Or could she? Steph had no work and it was the school holidays, so she was still asleep. Her sister’s shirt had ridden up during the night to expose her small pretty tits. Claire looked at them and thought about Jim and began to surreptitiously rub her cunt. Her labia were soft and wet and it felt wonderful and relaxing. Then Steph moaned and rolled over, and Claire remembered the camera and jumped out of bed.

At work she asked if she could stop using the training device.

‘My sister is going to wonder what it is,’ she said to Michael.

‘No, you can’t stop, but we can give you a better one,’ said Michael. ‘You were due for a new tape anyway. Stay awake till your sister falls asleep then put it in. The tape will wake you up early to take it out.’

The new device didn’t have a capsule. It had a fat dildo. ‘It won’t buzz,’ said Michael. ‘It will just pulse inside you. And you will be glad to know this one doesn’t shock you.’

Claire looked at the large latex phallus dubiously.

‘You’ll probably need to get yourself wet first to get it to slide in,’ added Michael helpfully as Claire headed to her workstation.

Sluthole was waiting at Claire’s desk. ‘Thank god,’ she said. ‘I have been waiting an hour to piss.’ She pulled the shocked Claire by the arm, dragging her to the toilets. Inside, Melons was masturbating as she pissed, stopping occasionally to lick her fingers clean. Sluthole ignored Melons and practically ripped Claire’s clothes off before undressing herself. She pressed her naked body up against Claire and kissed her on the lips. ‘You have no idea how long I have fantasised about doing this to a girl,’ she said when she finally broke the kiss. ‘Particularly a big titted cow like you. Kissing and pissing and feeling naked fuckbags rubbing against me is amazing.’

She reached down and gently stroked Claire's twat before encircling Claire in her arms again and pulling her close. ‘Piss,’ she whispered in Claire’s ear.

Claire was crying now, sobbing, but she relaxed her bladder and allowed her urine to spurt onto Sluthole’s legs. As soon as she did, Sluthole kissed her and then started to piss herself.

Claire hated it. She felt the wet warmth on her leg. She felt the warm tongue in her mouth. She felt her nipples stiffening with arousal as Sluthole ground her pissing cunt against Claire’s thigh.

When they were done, Sluthole had a further humiliation. She wordlessly took Claire’s panties and used them to mop the piss from her own legs and cunt before handing them back to Claire and leaving.

Claire threw them out. She refused to wear piss-wet clothes, and if Kitten could go without panties, she could too.

She regretted it almost immediately. She couldn’t stop thinking about her bare cunt, and as she looked at pictures of sluts and tagged them, her pussy got wetter and wetter. When she got up to get a cordial at 10.30, she was mortified to realise her pussy juices had left a wet spot on the back of her skirt. She immediately ran to the toilets, intending to wash her pussy clean and then wait a while for it to calm down.

Unfortunately Sluthole was there, waiting. ‘Claire!’ she said, delighted. Sluthole was already completely naked. She grabbed Claire, and pulled off Claire’s skirt before Claire could object. She pulled her hips towards Claire’s, their legs interweaving so that Claire’s thigh was against Sluthole’s twat and Sluthole’s was against Claire’s. Claire gasped. Pressure on her engorged pussy was just what she didn’t want right now.

‘Oh my,’ said Sluthole teasingly. ‘You’re all wet.’ She wiggled her thigh against Claire’s cunt and Claire turned bright red at the resulting wet squelching noise. But it felt good. Her twat responded with even more lubrication.

Wordlessly, Sluthole started to kiss Claire, while grinding her thigh