New Title: Korrupting Kayla Book Three

Hamlin
7 days ago
22 min read

Black Room members, this title is available to download now.

This title is also available in The Black Box Vol. 5, the Korrupting Kayla Trilogy, The DomCo Universe, and The DomCo Series box sets.

Special note: If you previously ordered the DomCo Debauchery Pack, you will receive a coupon code in your email for an 80% discount on the updated DomCo Universe Box Set. Please ensure you check your spam folder.

Well, better late than never, right? My, what a journey it's been. Let me begin by expressing my sincere thanks to everyone who has followed this series over the last decade. When I first published The Second Place Sister in 2015, I had only a vague idea of where the series was headed. Clearly, it took some time to finally work out how to wrap it all up. Finally, however, it has happened. We've reached the end of the mainline series. If you want to skip ahead of my blah, blah, you can jump to the preview chapters. I've included three for our three primary storylines: Kayla, Tiffany, Carly. This release also includes the DomCo Office Simulator for Windows.

Jump ahead:

Kayla Preview

Tiffany Preview

Carly Preview

DomCo Office Simulator

The Black Box Volume 5

The DomCo Series Box Set

The DomCo Universe Box Set

This doesn't mean there will be no further DomCo stories. I fully intend to continue writing in this universe. Edge, in particular, is something I want to spend much more time on. However, there are other worlds I also want to spend time writing, including the iFem universe and the AirCND series.

So, let's talk about the end of this one. The series conclusion is a big one at ~107,000 Words. It brings together the characters from the rest of the series—The Hamlins, Jenna, Kara, Angela, Erin, Bratty Britt—to finish out character arcs that have been brewing for years. Some of those endings will be somewhat unexpected.

In this novel, you'll also learn the fate of Tiffany, who has been in training at the lodge with Bob. With only herself and Rape Doll left, one final "graduation day" mission will seal the fate of one of them.

Let's not forget about poor Cuntly, who got started her new life as a reality star on the pilot episode of I'm Not a Lesbian. Things haven't been going well for Cuntly. Do they ever? Things will continue not going well, as I'm Not a Lesbian gets green-lighted for a whole season.

Without going on and on, I want to thank you all again for the years of support, feedback, and readership. I hope to be able to continue writing you many more filthy stories in the years to come.

Book Three Chapter Headings:

Length: 107K Words

1.Graduation

2.A Mission

3.A Strange Mirror

4.The Recruiter

5.Elevator Altercation

6.Cuntly

7.Jean

8.Weepy Cunts

9.Pet Mommy

10.Mad Science

11.Reality TV

12.Special Stephanie

13.The First Failure

14.Star of Stage

15.Desperation

16.Erin

17.Extraction

18.Tiffany's Return

19.Still Not a Lesbian

20.Resurrection

21.The Next Phase

22.The Candidate

23.Haloes

24.Carly's Escape... or Not

25.Head Cunt

26.Tiffany's Vigil

27.Convergence

28.The Prodigal Daughter

Kayla Excerpt: Chapter 5, Elevator Altercation:

Kayla pressed her back against the cool metal wall of the elevator as it descended toward the Media and Marketing department. Her collar felt heavy around her neck, a constant reminder that she wasn't Kayla Sterns anymore. She was Cumhole now, the favored daughter of Arthur Helms, wielding power she'd never imagined possible.

The ghostly apparition of her father stood beside her, his digital form flickering slightly as the elevator passed between floors. He looked younger than when she'd first met him in the flesh, more vital, as if death had rejuvenated him rather than ended him. She still wasn't used to it.

"I keep thinking about what you said yesterday," she ventured, watching the floor numbers tick down on the digital display. "About power."

Arthur's ghost turned to her, his transparent features arranging themselves into that familiar predatory smile. "Which part, specifically?"

"How being a slut gives me power," Kayla said, testing the words in her mouth. "It seems backward. Everyone treats me like an object, but somehow I'm more powerful than ever."

The ghost chuckled, the sound emanating not from the apparition but from her earbuds. "Power isn't always what it appears to be. The world sees a degraded woman, a cumhole—" he gestured at her collar, "—but what they don't understand is that you've transcended traditional limitations."

"By letting men fuck me?" She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"By understanding the true currency of influence." Her father's ghost moved closer, his insubstantial form casting no reflection in the polished elevator walls. "Sex is leverage. Desire is control. You've seen how men behave around you now—they're putty in your hands, even as they think they're the ones in control."

Kayla considered this. She thought of how Rich had looked at her with worship in his eyes as he came inside her, how the men in the office snapped to attention when she walked by, how even Professor Miles—for all his manipulation—had ultimately been removed on her word.

"Still seems fucked up," she muttered.

"The world is fucked up," Arthur responded coolly. "I'm simply teaching you how to navigate it effectively."

The elevator slowed, stopping several floors before their destination. The doors slid open to reveal a blonde woman in her late twenties, dressed in a crisp white blouse, knee-length pencil skirt, and sensible heels. She clutched a tablet to her chest and stepped into the elevator with a polite nod toward Kayla, seemingly oblivious to the ghostly figure beside her.

Arthur's avatar flickered, reappearing directly behind the newcomer. He examined her attire with visible disapproval before turning back to Kayla. "Do you see this?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. "Inappropriate. Entirely out of line with company dress code."

Kayla glanced at the woman, taking in her professional, modest attire. Her own outfit, a sheer crop top that clearly displayed her nipples and a skirt so short it barely covered her ass, suddenly felt even more revealing by comparison.

Arthur's ghost leaned close to Kayla's ear. "Teach her. Show her the consequences of disrespecting DomCo protocols. Show me what you've learned."

A spark of something hot and unfamiliar ignited in Kayla's chest. Not quite anger, not quite arousal, but a heady mix of both. This woman with her pressed blouse and tidy appearance embodied everything Kayla had been forced to abandon. Dignity, professionalism, respect. The contrast kindled a resentment she hadn't realized was simmering beneath the surface.

"Excuse me," Kayla said, her voice hardening. "What department are you from?"

The blonde woman turned, her eyes momentarily widening as she took in Kayla's revealing outfit. "I'm from Legal, ninth floor," she answered, her tone polite but with a barely perceptible note of superiority. "I'm Jenny Santos, one of the contract attorneys."

"Are you new?" Kayla pressed, moving closer into the woman's personal space.

Jenny shifted uncomfortably. "I've been with DomCo for three weeks now. Is there a problem?"

Kayla gestured at Jenny's outfit with an exaggerated sweep of her hand. "Yeah, there's a fucking problem. This—" she tugged at the woman's blouse sleeve, "—isn't appropriate work attire at DomCo."

Jenny's forehead creased in confusion. "I don't understand. This is standard business attire—"

"Standard?" Kayla's laugh was harsh, brittle. "Look at me. This is the standard." She pulled at her own sheer top, making her breasts jiggle beneath the translucent fabric. "You think you're too good for that? Too professional to show your tits like the rest of us?"

Jenny took a small step backward, her back hitting the elevator wall. "I was told the dress code was business formal for Legal. My supervisor—"

"Your supervisor is wrong," Kayla snapped, feeling a surge of power as she watched fear bloom in the woman's eyes. "Or maybe you're just a stuck-up bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else. Is that it?"

Arthur's ghost circled them, observing with predatory interest. "She needs correction," he whispered in Kayla's ear. "Make an example of her."

Jenny's professional composure began to crack. "I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding about the dress code. I can speak to HR about—"

"HR?" Kayla cut her off with a snarl. "Let me explain something to you. I'm Cumhole, daughter of Arthur Helms. I outrank HR." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small device that resembled a brass knuckle with electrical contacts. A Shock Gauntlet, a little gift from Erica.

Jenny's eyes widened as she looked at the device. "Please, I—I didn't mean to—" she stammered.

Kayla slipped the device over her knuckles, feeling the power hum to life against her skin. "Too late for apologies."

She lunged forward, pressing the Shock Gauntlet directly against Jenny's crotch. The woman's scream was high and thin as electricity surged through her cunt. Her tablet clattered to the floor as she collapsed, her body convulsing with the shock. Kayla held the contact for three full seconds before releasing, leaving Jenny whimpering on the elevator floor.

"There's no room for prudes here," Kayla said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. She pulled out her phone and began recording. "Let's make this a learning experience."

Jenny looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't—"

Kayla's hand cracked across Jenny's cheek, the slap echoing in the confined space of the elevator. "Shut the fuck up. From now on, your name is Jiggly, because that's what your tits will be doing once we get you properly dressed." She turned the camera toward Jenny's tear-streaked face. "Say your new name."

"J-Jiggly," the woman whispered, her voice breaking.

"Louder."

"Jiggly!" she cried, her professional demeanor completely shattered.

"Good. Now strip. Everything off. Show me what you've been hiding under that stupid outfit."

As Jenny trembled and began unbuttoning her blouse with shaking fingers, Kayla felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Part of her, a distant, fading part, recognized that this wasn't who she used to be. The old Kayla would have been horrified at humiliating someone this way. But that Kayla had been weak, vulnerable, a victim. This new Kayla wielded power. And it felt good.

Arthur's ghost smiled his approval as Jiggly shed her clothes piece by piece, sobbing quietly under Kayla's unrelenting gaze and the unblinking eye of the camera. The elevator continued its descent, carrying them down into the depths of DomCo where a new lesson in power dynamics was just beginning.

Tiffany Excerpt: Chapter 8, Weepy Cunts:

Tiffany completed the verbal assessments of all twelve recruits by mid-afternoon, her tablet now filled with notes on their sexual histories, psychological weaknesses, and potential breaking points. Her cunt throbbed persistently from the day-long exposure to Obsequium pulses, her body responding to the drug's influence even as her mind remained clinically focused on the task. She watched as Bob herded the evaluated women back into the interrogation chamber, their faces already showing the strain of the morning's questioning. They had no idea what was coming next. Tiffany ran her fingertips along the edge of the tablet, a small thrill of power shooting through her. The physical assessment would reveal far more than mere words ever could.

"Stand against the wall, shoulder to shoulder," Bob barked at the recruits, who scrambled to comply. Their eyes flickered nervously between him and Tiffany, searching for clues about what fresh humiliation awaited them.

Bob nodded to Tiffany, then retreated to his corner, arms crossed over his barrel chest. The message was clear. This was her show now.

Tiffany stood, her heels clicking against the concrete floor as she approached the line of women. She paused in front of the first recruit. Melissa, the former barista with only four sexual partners.

"Strip," Tiffany said simply.

Melissa blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You heard me. All of it. Now."

A murmur ran through the line as the other women realized what was happening. Melissa's hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her shirt, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route that didn't exist.

"We don't have all day," Tiffany said, her voice cooling. "Anyone who isn't naked in the next thirty seconds gets an automatic designation of 'Useless Cunt' and goes straight to The Farm."

She didn't need to explain what The Farm was. She’d let the first interview casually hear her mention it to Bob. The girl had done the rest. The rumors about that place had spread throughout the recruitment process, whispers of women transformed into animals, their humanity systematically stripped away until nothing remained but trained beasts for sexual use. True or not, the threat was effective.

Clothes dropped to the floor with frantic urgency. Within moments, twelve naked women stood shivering in the air-conditioned room, arms crossed ineffectually over breasts and pubic areas.

"Arms at your sides," Tiffany instructed. "You have nothing to hide that we won't see eventually."

She returned to Melissa, circling her slowly, taking in every detail of her exposed body. The girl was objectively attractive, firm breasts that showed no sign of sagging, a narrow waist, legs that were toned from what Tiffany guessed was regular running.

Tiffany reached out and cupped one of Melissa's breasts, weighing it in her palm. The girl flinched but didn't pull away.

"34C," Tiffany estimated, making a note on her tablet. "Natural, slight asymmetry with the left slightly larger. Nipples responsive to touch."

Indeed, despite the clinical nature of the assessment, Melissa's nipples had hardened in the cool air and from Tiffany's handling. A flush spread across the girl's chest and up her neck.

Tiffany moved down the line, conducting similarly intimate examinations of each recruit. She noted stretch marks, cellulite, birthmarks, the quality of skin and muscle tone. Some women trembled under her touch; others went rigid, dissociating from what was happening to their bodies.

The collar pulsed against her throat, and Tiffany welcomed the chemical calm it brought. Without the Obsequium, she might have faltered, might have recognized the horror of what she was doing to these women. With it, she could maintain the necessary detachment, could view them as products to be assessed rather than humans being degraded.

When she'd completed the physical evaluation, Tiffany returned to stand before the line of naked, shivering women. "We're now going to test your emotional responses," she announced. "Specifically, how you cry."

Confusion flickered across their faces.

"At DomCo, your tears have value," Tiffany continued. "Some clients pay extra for specific types of crying. We need to know what category you fall into."

Without warning, she slapped Melissa hard across the face. The sound cracked through the silent room, followed by a collective gasp from the other women. Melissa's head snapped to the side, her hand instinctively rising to her reddening cheek.

"Don't cover it," Tiffany ordered. "Let me see how you respond."

Tears welled in Melissa's eyes almost immediately, spilling over to track down her cheeks in glistening rivulets. Her lower lip trembled, but she made no sound, staring at Tiffany with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

"Silent crier, pretty tears," Tiffany noted on her tablet. "Maintains eye contact. Fuckable category."

She moved to the next woman, a petite redhead with freckles scattered across her pale skin. This one received a firm slap to her left breast rather than her face. She yelped in pain, her hands flying to cover the assaulted flesh before she remembered Tiffany's instructions and forced them back to her sides. Tears came more slowly, accompanied by audible sniffling.

"Vocal but controlled," Tiffany murmured, typing. "Average tear production. Stupid Cunt category."

Down the line she went, varying her approach. Some women received face slaps, others breast slaps. For a few, she used both, testing their ability to withstand sustained assault. Each woman's tears told a different story. Some cried prettily with minimal facial distortion, making them valuable for clients who enjoyed aesthetic suffering. Others turned blotchy and red, their noses running, their breathing interrupted by hiccupping sobs.

Amber, the self-proclaimed sexual goddess who'd been exposed as a fraud, barely teared up at all despite receiving one of the hardest slaps. "Resistant," Tiffany noted. "Will require extensive conditioning to produce satisfactory tears. Needs Extensive Raping category."

From his corner, Bob watched with evident approval, occasionally nodding when Tiffany made particularly astute observations. His presence both unnerved and motivated her—she needed his endorsement to avoid ending up like these women, stripped and evaluated and categorized for someone else's use.

By the time she reached the last recruit, Tiffany's hand stung from delivering so many slaps. The various crying faces before her had blurred together, distinct only in how she'd categorized them in her notes. She no longer saw individuals but products, some more marketable than others, some requiring more refinement before they'd be profitable.

"Excellent work," Bob said as Tiffany completed her final assessment. "Very thorough."

Tiffany nodded, trying not to show the pride that bloomed in her chest at his approval. "I'm categorizing them based on both physical attributes and emotional responses," she explained, handing him the tablet. "The Fuckables can go straight to client services or media production. The Stupid Cunts need basic training but have potential. The Needs Extensive Rapings will require significant conditioning before they're profitable."

Bob scanned her notes, a smile spreading across his fleshy face. "You've got a good eye," he said. "Better than most of the evaluators we've had lately." He returned the tablet and gestured toward the line of crying, naked women. "Finish up. I want your final designations in the next hour."

As he left the room, Tiffany turned back to the trembling recruits, seeing her former self reflected in their tear-streaked faces. The sight should have evoked sympathy, should have reminded her of her own humanity. Instead, she felt only the satisfaction of having climbed one rung higher on DomCo's ladder, having proven herself valuable enough to avoid their fate.

The collar pulsed again, and she welcomed the warm fog it brought. This was her role now. She had survived by adapting, by becoming what DomCo wanted. These women would do the same, or they would break trying.

Carly Excerpt: Chapter 15, Desperation

Hunger clawed at Carly's insides like a trapped animal, each cramp more vicious than the last. Three days barricaded in her bedroom had depleted the small stash of protein bars and bottled water she'd managed to hide in her luggage. The granola bar wrappers lay scattered across the carpet where she'd licked each one clean of crumbs, desperate for any sustenance. Her stomach growled again, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room, a painful reminder that she couldn't hide forever. Sooner or later, she would have to choose between starvation and stepping outside her door, where four predators waited.

Carly curled into a tighter ball on the bed, pressing her fist against her abdomen as another cramp twisted her insides. The pain had evolved from annoying to concerning. How long before malnutrition became a real danger? She'd lost track of time in this pink prison, the only markers being the changing light through the tiny decorative window and the rhythmic pulses of hunger that woke her whenever she managed to drift into fitful sleep.

She sat up slowly, her head swimming with the sudden movement. The options cycled through her mind for the hundredth time: stay and starve, or venture out and face whatever humiliation they had planned. Neither choice offered anything but misery. The dresser she'd pushed against the door looked heavier now than it had when desperation had given her the strength to move it. Her muscles had grown weak, her body consuming itself in the absence of food.

"Fuck," she whispered to the empty room, her voice hoarse from disuse and dehydration.

Her gaze drifted to the tiny stained-glass window set high in the wall. Useless for escape, barely adequate for telling day from night. Evening shadows stretched across the room now. Maybe they'd be asleep, or out filming something else. Maybe she could make it to the kitchen and back undetected.

Another cramp, sharper than the last, made the decision for her. She couldn't take this much longer. She had to eat.

Carly slid off the bed, her legs trembling beneath her weight. She placed her palms against the dresser and pushed, but it barely moved. Her weakened state made the task seem impossible now. Taking a deep breath, she positioned her shoulder against the furniture and shoved with all her remaining strength. The dresser scraped across the floor with excruciating slowness, each inch gained a victory against her failing body.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, running in salty trails down her temples as she continued to push. After what felt like hours, she'd created just enough space to reach the door handle. Her breath came in shallow pants, her heart racing with exertion and fear. She listened at the crack, straining to detect any movement in the hallway beyond.

Nothing.

With shaking fingers, she turned the handle slowly, wincing at the soft click as the latch disengaged. She eased the door open just wide enough to slip her body through the gap, keeping one hand on the frame to steady herself as a wave of dizziness threatened her balance.

The hallway stretched before her, darker than she remembered. The producers must have turned down the lights for night filming, leaving only the faint glow of exit signs to illuminate the path. Carly's eyes adjusted slowly, transforming the corridor from pitch black to gradations of shadow.

She took one careful step forward, testing the floorboard before committing her full weight. It gave a slight creak, and she froze, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she was certain anyone in the vicinity would hear it. She counted to ten, waiting for doors to fly open, for Cum Puppy to appear with her manic grin, for cameras to swivel toward her vulnerable form.

When nothing happened, she took another step, then another, moving with glacial caution. Each floorboard became a potential betrayal, each shadow a possible hiding place for one of her tormentors. She pressed herself against the wall, using it for both guidance and support as she inched toward the staircase.

A toilet flushed somewhere in the house, the sound making her jerk backward. She pressed flat against the wall, holding her breath until her lungs burned. A door opened and closed in the distance, followed by footsteps that mercifully moved away from her position. Carly released her breath in a silent, shuddering exhale.

The staircase appeared before her, a treacherous descent into deeper darkness. She gripped the banister with one hand, testing each stair before shifting her weight. The third stair from the top gave a loud creak, and she froze again, muscles tense with anticipation. Seconds stretched into minutes as she waited, listening for any sign that the noise had alerted her housemates.

When no response came, she continued her careful descent, placing her feet at the edges of each stair where the wood was less likely to protest. The journey down seemed to take forever, each step a careful negotiation between speed and stealth, her body craving food even as her mind screamed for caution.

At the bottom of the stairs, Carly paused to orient herself. The kitchen lay at the back of the house, past the living room where she'd first been introduced to her housemates. The memory of Cum Puppy's arms around her, of the humiliating story shared for the cameras, sent a fresh wave of fear through her body. She pushed the thought away. Food first. Survival first.

The living room was mercifully empty, the expensive furniture reduced to hulking shadows in the dim light. A red indicator light blinked on a camera mounted in the corner, a reminder that even in darkness, she was being watched. Carly ducked lower, hoping the poor lighting would obscure her journey from whoever monitored the feeds.

She crept across the living room, one hand extended before her to prevent collisions with furniture. The dining room came next, chairs pulled out at odd angles like the occupants had left in a hurry. Finally, the kitchen doorway loomed ahead, a rectangle of slightly lighter darkness beckoning her forward.

Carly's heart leaped as she crossed the threshold. The refrigerator hummed softly against the far wall, its sealed contents promising relief from the gnawing pain in her stomach. She moved toward it with renewed purpose, hunger overriding caution now that her goal was in sight.

The tiled floor felt cool beneath her bare feet, a small sensory pleasure after days confined to the carpeted bedroom. She navigated around the central island, her fingers trailing along its edge for guidance. The refrigerator grew larger as she approached, its white surface faintly visible even in the darkness, like a beacon of hope.

Carly reached for the handle, tears of relief welling in her eyes. Just a little food, enough to keep her going for another day or two while she figured out an escape plan. That was all she needed.

Her fingers closed around the cool metal handle, her salvation mere inches away.

The fluorescent lights snapped on with a harsh buzz, flooding the kitchen with blinding white light. Carly's hand froze on the refrigerator handle, her body tensing like prey in headlights. The sudden illumination seared her dark-adjusted eyes, but she didn't need clear vision to recognize the naked figure standing in the doorway. Cum Puppy's wild red hair framed her face like flames, her manic grin splitting her face as she leaned against the doorframe with casual ownership of the space.

"Well, well, well," Cum Puppy drawled, her voice sending ice through Carly's veins. "Look who finally crawled out of her hidey-hole. Hungry, bunkie?"

She pushed off from the doorframe and took a step into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the tile floor.

Panic surged through Carly's system, temporary fuel for her weakened body. She yanked on the refrigerator handle with desperate strength, but the door remained stubbornly sealed. She pulled again, harder, her fingernails scraping against the metal as she struggled to pry it open.

Cum Puppy's laughter bounced off the kitchen tiles, high and unhinged. "It won't open for you, silly girl. It's got this bio-whatsis that don't let it open without the right fingerdoodle." She wiggled her fingers in the air, the motion somehow obscene. "And you ain't got the right doodle. I do, though."

Carly didn't release the handle, clinging to it like it might still offer escape. Her stomach growled loudly enough for Cum Puppy to hear, prompting another burst of that horrible laughter.

"Poor bunkie," Cum Puppy cooed, moving closer with deliberate, predatory steps. "So hungry. So desperate." Her eyes, wide and manic, never left Carly's face. "The cameras caught you sneaking down here, you know. Everyone's watching right now. Producers are probably creaming their pants over this unexpected midnight snack run."

Carly glanced toward the ceiling corners, spotting the small red light of an active camera. Of course they were watching. They were always watching.

"Please," Carly whispered, hating the weakness in her voice. "I just need some food. I'll go right back upstairs."

"Hmm." Cum Puppy tapped her chin with one finger, pretending to consider the request. "But that's not how the game works, is it? Nothing's free in this house, bunkie. Not even a sandwich."

She closed the distance between them in two quick steps. Carly tried to back away, but the refrigerator blocked her retreat. Cum Puppy pressed forward, trapping Carly against the cool metal surface. Her naked body radiated heat, her breasts pressing against Carly's back as she leaned in close.

"You feel so good," Cum Puppy murmured, her breath hot against Carly's ear. One hand snaked around Carly's waist, fingers splaying across her concave stomach. "God, you're skinny. Didn't they feed you before you got here?" Her other hand slid up to cup Carly's breast through the thin nightshirt the stylists had provided. "Still got these perfect little titties, though."

Carly squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry, not to give the cameras the reaction they wanted. Cum Puppy's body pressed harder against her, pushing her into the refrigerator door. The metal felt ice-cold against her cheek as Cum Puppy forced her head to the side, exposing her neck.

"Mmm, I missed this," Cum Puppy whispered before pressing her lips against Carly's neck in a parody of tenderness. Her teeth scraped the sensitive skin, not quite biting but threatening to.

"Please," Carly repeated, her voice breaking. "I'm so hungry."

"I know you are, baby," Cum Puppy replied, her hips grinding against Carly's backside in slow, deliberate circles. "I'm hungry too. But for something different." Her lips traveled up to Carly's ear, where she whispered, "All you gotta do is look up into that camera and tell the folks at home that you want to get raped by girls."

The demand hit Carly like a bucket of ice water. She stiffened in Cum Puppy's embrace, shaking her head without conscious thought. "No," she whispered. "I can't say that."

Cum Puppy's hand tightened painfully on Carly's breast. "Yes, you can. It's just words, bunkie. Just a few little words, and then you can eat." Her voice remained playful, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable.

"I don't want that," Carly said, stronger this time despite the tears building behind her eyes.

"Which do you not want more?" Cum Puppy asked, her tone suddenly clinical, as if she were discussing a scientific problem. Her hand released Carly's breast to stroke her cheek with false tenderness. "Starving or girl rape? Cause those are your options right now. Starve to death in your little princess bedroom, or say the magic words and eat."

Carly's mind raced, seeking some third option that didn't exist. Her stomach cramped painfully, a sharp reminder of the three days without food. How much longer could she go? Another day? Two? And what would happen when she grew too weak to move, too weak to barricade the door?

"The cameras are rolling, bunkie," Cum Puppy whispered, her lips brushing Carly's ear. "And the ratings are going through the roof. They love this shit." Her hand slid lower, fingers playing with the waistband of Carly's sleep shorts. "Decision time. What's it gonna be?"

The touch on her waistband jolted Carly back to reality. If she didn't comply with this demand, Cum Puppy might escalate beyond unwanted touching. The choice wasn't between dignity and food; it was between one violation and something potentially much worse.

"Tick-tock," Cum Puppy sang, her fingers dipping lower. "I'm getting impatient."

Carly lifted her gaze to the camera mounted in the corner, its unblinking eye capturing her humiliation in perfect detail. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over to track down her cheeks. She swallowed hard, forcing the words past the knot in her throat.

"I..." Her voice caught. She took a shuddering breath and tried again. "I want to get raped by girls."

DomCo Office Simulator

Erotikinks' first foray into interactive content. The DomCo office simulator for Windows is an interactive minigame in which you take on the role of a DomCo manager. Aid in corrupting Kayla first-hand, alongside your faithful servant, Suck Pet. Packed with explicit image and video content, the DomCo Office Simulator is a fun tie-in for fans of the series.

The Black Box Volume 5

Kayla 3 + Black Box 5 (ePub+PDF)

$19.99

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The fifth edition of The Black Box, featuring stories and media from The Black Room! In this edition, you'll get the DomCo mainline series conclusion, Korrupting Kayla, Book Three: The Traitor's Council. Also included are:

Jane's Addiction-Jane develops an oral addiction and a love for hot, gooey, sticky cream.

Slut-When Jake finds his sister riding their father in the night, his life spirals out of control as seemingly everyone around him is getting a piece of her.

Jenna's Perversion-Brian knows that his lesbian sister's lifestyle is a perversion. A woman's role is service and reproduction. But Jenna's head is filled with notions of freedom and feminism, concepts that are a violation of natural law.

The Landladies-Nate's new MILF landlady and her gorgeous daughter turn him into a masturbation-addicted gooning pervert.

Bound by Suggestion-Seeking therapy for anxiety, a woman falls under her doctor's hypnotic spell, awakening cravings for humiliation and submission that shatter her world.

Media Bonuses-

Lisa X Lopez: My Mouth is a wet hole for cock- (Video, 13minutes)

Kristie's Cunt- (Illustrated PDF Story)

DomCo Office Simulator (Windows)

The DomCo Series Box Set

The DomCo Series (ePub+PDF)

$49.99

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The complete DomCo mainline series in one box set! This package includes the 10 main titles in the series, each marked with its order. This set saves over $25 off purchasing individual titles. Individual title price for all 10 books: $66.90.

Total length: ~683K Words

The Second Place Sister: Author's Edition - The story that started it all, including the bonus stories: The Redheaded Slut, Valerie: A NewYou Story, A Hamlin Family Interlude, Stephanie's Birthday Blowjob. Length: 199K words

Korrupting Kayla, Book One: The beginning chapter of Kayla's story inside the DomCo corporation. Length: 66K Words

Love, Lust, and Erin: The introduction of Erin and the Halo technology. Length: 44K Words

Doppelgänger: Introducing Angela and The Other Side. Length: 45K Words

Vicky's Inheritance: Introducing Vicky, Arthur Helms. Length: 23K Words

Edge: Introduces Edge, Jenna, Kara, and expands on Halo technology. Length: 79K Words

Korrupting Kayla, Book Two: Continues Kayla's corruption and deepens the DomCo plot. Length: 60K Words

Erica's Experiment: Introduces Erica and the mad science of DomCo. Length: 19K Words

Selling Stephanie: The backstory of The Bald Girl and her importance to DomCo's plans. Length: 41K Words

Korrupting Kayla, The Traitor's Council: The epic conclusion of the main series. Length: 107K Words

The DomCo Universe Box Set

The DomCo Universe (ePub+PDF)

$79.99

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The complete DomCo mainline series in one box set, plus the related DomCo stories! This package includes the 10 main titles in the series, each marked with their order. Also included are the novels and novellas set in the same universe. This set saves over $30 off purchasing individual titles. Individual title price for all these books: $111.83

Total length: ~1Million Words