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Playing with Toys: Part Three

Previous Parts: One, Two

Chapter Four: Rearranging Rebecca

Carol shut the bedroom door, blocking out the sounds of Katie’s sobbing, as the girl was led away into the basement. Trent would do good work with her. Rebecca would require a different sort of work, but it was the kind of work that Carol did every day. That work could greatly help people who had suffered trauma. She’d done so often. The work could, also, bend people to her will. That, she’d also done often.

She pulled up a chair next to the dozing Rebecca. The girl’s breath smelled of liquor and her hair reeked of pot. The sedative that she’d given her had been mild, but the combination of all of it had put Rebecca into a state that should make her primed for a hypnotic session. She covered the girl with a blanket and then roused her.

Rebecca’s eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused and dull.

“Rebecca,” Carol said, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Rebecca croaked.

“Good. You’re very tired, aren’t you?”


Carol lightly held her wrist and felt her pulse.

“I’m going to help you sleep. I just want you to tell me a little bit about yourself first, alright?”


“Can you tell me about something that makes you very happy? Something you do that makes you more relaxed than anything else?”

She waited as Rebecca’s drugged mind puzzled through the question.

“Like to draw,” Rebecca mumbled.

“That’s good. I’d like you to draw me something. Not with paper. Just draw it in your head while I talk. Can you do that for me?”


“I’d like you to draw a clock for me. I’m going to describe the clock for you and I want you to draw it in your imagination. That should be easy, right?”


“The clock is on a wall. The wall is empty and white. The clock is round and black. The black clock is a very different contrast to the plain, white wall. The face of the clock is white and the hands on the clock are also black.”

She watched Rebecca’s eyes shut and imagined the girl painting the image in her head. Her pulse slowed, just slightly, but it was detectable.

“The black hands of the clock are pointing straight up. It’s midnight and outside everything is dark. There’s only the white wall and the black clock. I want you to watch the hands on the clock, alright?”

“Hmm,” Rebecca mumbled.

“The black hands are moving backward, slowly by the second. You can see them and hear the tick, tick, tick as they move back. Can you count the time backward for me while they move?”

She watched as Rebecca’s eyelids fluttered.

“Every tick of the clock is helping you to relax. Each tick of the clock is helping you draw the picture for me. You can hear that tick… tick… tick… and there’s no other sound but the clock and my voice. My voice is your guide, and the clock is your picture. Keep counting the ticks.”

Rebecca’s eyes fluttered again and Carol could see her slip into the familiar state she saw with her patients.

“Where are you, Rebecca?” she asked.

Rebecca’s voice came back clear but quiet as she said, “I’m in a room with a white wall and a black clock.”

“How do you feel?”

Rebecca’s pulse was slow and steady under her fingers.

“Relaxed. Happy.”

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing the clock.”

“You’re doing so well. I love the picture you’re drawing for me.”

Rebecca’s lips twitched.

“Can you hear me clearly?”


“Who am I, Rebecca?”

“My guide.”

“Good. I’m your guide. I want you to draw something else for me now. Would you like to do that?”

“Mm-hm,” Rebecca agreed.

“We’re going to leave the room with the clock. I want you to draw me something that you remember. I want you to draw me a cabin. It’s a place you’ve seen. You’ve seen a cabin, yes?”

Rebecca’s wrist twitched in her hand and her pulse quickened.

“The cabin is peaceful,” Carol said. “It’s in the forest, surrounded by tall trees. In the back is a little lake with a boat. The cabin makes you feel at ease. It’s a place that’s quiet and you go there to relax and have fun. Can you tell me what the cabin looks like from the outside?”

Rebecca’s pulse slowed again.

“It has a red door,” she said. “There are two windows on the front and it has dark, wood siding. There’s a chimney on the roof and smoke is coming out.”

“It sounds so beautiful. When you walk inside, what do you see?”

Rebecca walked inside.

“There’s a big, open room with a fireplace,” she said. “The fireplace is going and it’s warm inside.”

“It’s so peaceful,” Carol said. “It’s so relaxing. This is a place where good things happen, isn’t it?”

Rebecca twitched and stammered, “I…”

“There is no one else in the cabin but you,” Carol added. “You’re alone in the cabin, just you and the fire. Everything is quiet. All you can hear is the pop and crackle of the fireplace. Would you like to sit down in front of the fire?”


“It’s so warm and relaxing in front of the fire, isn’t it?”


“Let yourself relax in front of the flames and keep on drawing the cabin. You love to draw. It’s so refreshing, so relaxing, to sit in front of the fire. You can feel the pencil in your hand and hear the scratch of the lead against the paper. You’re so talented. I love the picture.”

Rebecca’s lips twitched again. Her pulse was slow and steady once more.

“It feels good to be alone in the cabin,” Carol continued. “But it would also be nice to share the cabin with good friends, wouldn’t it?”


“I’m going to invite some friends over. They’re loving friends and they can’t wait to see your picture. They’re so excited to see what you’ve drawn for me. Would you like to show them?”


“I’m inviting three friends to join us. They know how talented you are and they love coming to the cabin to look at your drawing. Do you know their names?”

“Katie… Kevin… Cary,” Rebecca said.

“Good. Your friends are coming in the red door and they’re smiling. They’re so happy to see you. Can you show them the drawing?”


“They love it, don’t they?”


“They love you and they love being at the cabin with you. They think you’re beautiful and talented.”


“Your friends want to relax at the cabin with you. They want to have fun, just like you’re having fun. Would that be alright?”


“They’ve brought some drinks and they offer you one. Go ahead and take it. The drink is in a glass bottle and the bottle is cold in your hand. You take a drink and then another. The drink makes you feel happy.”


“Your friends are having so much fun. They love the drawings you made for me. The drinks and all the fun make you happy, don’t they?”

“Yes,” Rebecca agreed.

“You’ve had several drinks now and you feel very warm, warm like when you sat by the fire. The warmth is inside you, too. Can you feel it?”


“The warmth makes you excited. You feel sexy and cute. Your friends know how sexy and cute you are. You feel hot inside because you’re so sexy and cute.”

“Hot,” Rebecca said.

“Can you touch the spot that’s the hottest, when you think about being sexy for your friends?” Carol asked.

Beneath the blanket, Rebecca slid her hand down her belly and touched her pussy.

“Where are you touching, Rebecca?”

“My pussy.”

“Your pussy is very hot when you think about being sexy.”


“Your friends know how hot it is and they think it’s sexy, don’t they?”


“Your friends love how hot your pussy is. They love it almost as much as your drawing. Your pussy makes them happy, just like the drawings and the drinks. You want your friends to be happy, don’t you?”


“What would make your friends happy?”

“If I show them my pussy,” Rebecca said.

“Your friends would be so happy if you showed them your pussy. Make your friends happy, Rebecca. Can you do that?”

“I don’t want to.”

Carol paused and thought, then continued, “You want your friends to like you, don’t you, Rebecca?”


“Your friends won’t like you if you don’t make them happy. People who don’t make their friends happy aren’t accepted. They won’t like you and they won’t like your drawing. You want them to like you and your drawing, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Rebecca agreed and twitched.

“What would make your friends happy?”

“If I show them my pussy.”

“Your friends would be happy if you showed them your pussy. They’d like you and they’d like your drawing. Do you want them to be happy? To like you?”


“It’s important to have friends, isn’t it?”


“The most important thing is to make your friends happy. If they’re happy, they’ll like you and your drawing. You want them to like you and your drawing, don’t you?”


“What’s the most important thing about having friends, Rebecca?”

“For them to be happy,” Rebecca said.

“It would make your friends so happy if you showed them your pussy, wouldn’t it?”


“You want to show them your pussy and you want them to be happy.”


“It would make them even happier if they could touch it. Making them happy makes you happy. Will you let them touch it?”


Rebecca’s pulse quickened under Carol’s finger.

“Your friends love to touch your pussy. It’s making them so happy. What else do you have that would make your friends happy?”

Rebecca’s eyelids fluttered, and she said, “My mouth.”

“Good. Why does your mouth make them happy?”

“Cary likes to put his cock in it. Katie likes to put her pussy on it,” Rebecca said.

“How does that make you feel?”

“I don’t like it,” Rebecca said.

“Your friends like it. You want your friends to be happy. Making your friends happy makes you happy, right?”


“If you do things that make your friends happy, it’s reasonable that you’ll be happy, right?”


“Even if you don’t like doing those things, what’s most important is that your friends are happy because that will make you happy.”


“Making your friends happy makes you happy and it makes you useful. You don’t have to like what they like. You only have to make sure they’re happy, so you can be happy. You want to be happy, yes?”


“What will make you happy, Rebecca?”

“If I do what they like.”

“You don’t like it when Cary puts his cock in your mouth, do you?”


“You want him to be happy, don’t you?”


“Why do you want him to be happy?”

“It makes me happy.”

“You’ll let Cary put his cock in your mouth, won’t you?”


“What does Kevin like, Rebecca?”

“He likes to fuck me.”

“Do you like Kevin fucking you?”


“You want your friends to be happy, don’t you?”


“What will make Kevin happy?”

“If he fucks me.”

“Will you let Kevin fuck you?”


Her pulse quickened and her eyelids fluttered.

“You don’t like that your friends want to use you for their pleasure, do you?”


“How does it make you feel when they do it?”

“Dirty. Slutty.”

“It’s always going to feel that way. That makes them happy. You want them to be happy, don’t you?”


“What will make them happy?”

“If I feel dirty and slutty when they fuck me.”

“You don’t like to feel that way, but it’s more important that your friends are happy, isn’t it?”


“Do you feel guilty that you’re so dirty and slutty, Rebecca?”


“You should. It’s your fault that you’re so dirty and slutty, but it’s more important for your friends to be happy, isn’t it?”


“Making them happy gets you off. It gives you pleasure, even though you don’t like it and you feel slutty and dirty.”


“What will make them happy?”

“If I feel slutty and dirty. If I get off when I don’t like it.”

“Very good, Rebecca. When they fuck you, do you orgasm?”


“That makes you feel slutty, too, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rebecca agreed.

“You feel like a slut because you don’t like that they rape you, but you have orgasms from it, anyway.”


“Why do you orgasm, Rebecca?”

“I’m a slut.”

“You’re a slut,” Carol agreed. “Sluts orgasm from rape, don’t they?”


Rebecca’s pulse began to quicken and she twitched.

“Do you want everyone else to know that you orgasm from rape, Rebecca?”


“If everyone else knew, they’d call you a slut and they wouldn’t like you, would they?”


“They wouldn’t like you, and they wouldn’t like your drawing if they knew you were a slut, would they?”


“Being a slut is disgusting, and everyone else will think you’re disgusting for having an orgasm when you get raped.”


“Your friends know that you’re a disgusting slut that orgasms from rape, but your friends still like you. They like your drawing. You make them happy when they get to fuck you, even though you don’t like it. It’s good to have friends that like you, even though you’re a disgusting slut, isn’t it?”


“Your friends won’t tell anyone what a disgusting slut you are if you make them happy. Do you want them to tell?”


“If they’re happy, then they won’t tell anyone that you’re a disgusting slut. What will you do, so that they keep your secret, Rebecca?”

“Make them happy.”

“What would make your friends happy?”

“If they could fuck me. If I orgasm from rape.”

“What kind of girl orgasms from rape, Rebecca?”

“A disgusting slut.”

“You orgasmed when your friends raped you, didn’t you?”


“What kind of girl orgasms from rape?”

“A disgusting slut.”

“What kind of girl are you?”

“A disgusting slut.”

“You wanted to show your friends your pussy, didn’t you, Rebecca?”


“Why did you show them your pussy?”

“Because I want them to be happy?”

“Why is it important that your friends are happy?”

“So that they’ll like me and like my drawing. It’s important for friends to be happy.”

“It’s the most important thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rebecca agreed.

Her pulse slowed.

“You have a secret, don’t you?”


“Your friends will keep your secret if they’re happy. You let your friends touch your pussy, didn’t you?”


“Why did you let them touch your pussy?”

“So they would be happy. So they would keep my secret.”

“What is your secret, Rebecca?”

“I’m a disgusting slut that orgasms from rape.”

Carol smiled.


Like the sound of this story? Follow the dark descent of Rebecca and Katie in the full novel, available in the Erotikinks shop!

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