Author's note: Please read the first chapter first. Obviously this is fiction. Please comment with suggestions about where you want this to go, and tell me your thoughts. I love getting feedback from readers. Thanks for reading.
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For the next several days after the party, I experienced a constant up and down in my mind. For long periods, usually during the day, I would feel horrified at myself. Christy had gone from a shy virgin who had barely done more than kiss someone to a girl who had spread her legs for six different guys, and none of it was with her real consent (or recollection, even). Six was a number that might even be considered somewhat promiscuous for an eighteen year old like her, and here Christy had done it in a few weeks, and over half of that was directly my fault. By day these thoughts would horrify and worry me, but by night the very same would inspire two plus back to back masturbation sessions, every night. The thought of her becoming a slut was suddenly completely intoxicating to me, for some reason, and it was only heightened by the fact that she would have no say in it.
Even though I knew it was a terrible and extremely risky thing, I also knew I had to continue it. That night at the party confirmed it. The rush was like an addiction; I had to replicate it. I wanted to make her be a slut. I knew it was a dangerous road I was treading. Her life (and by extension, mine, should I be caught) could be ruined, but I think this sense of danger only increased the thrill. It would be safer if everyone who ended up fucking her used a condom, but that would mean I'd have to force them to, which obviously wasn't an option. I couldn't be seen to be complicit. Plus, her getting fucked bareback was so much hotter. I worried that the new videos of her getting fucked by the guys at the party would surface and the game would be up, but I kept my eyes peeled for weeks and didn't see anything pop up on the internet. We were still good.
I got her a morning after pill the day after the party, and by the next week had secretly arranged a doctor's appointment for her to get regular birth control. I sweated the whole time she was there, both worried that the doctors would catch on to my shadiness and questioning if I was mad for actually planning this out to this extent. Nothing came of my worries. She got the pills and we left.
I decided to test my abilities to order her around, by replicating the last scenario in more or less controlled situations. Over the course of the next month I got her fucked by four more guys - two on two different occasions. I plotted these acts rather carefully, paranoid that I would be found to be orchestrating or even aware of what was happening. In the end neither turned out to be too difficult - both happened at parties on the other end of town where people were less likely to know either of us. I would simply instruct her to invite a couple guys up to a bedroom where I would be hiding in a closet, and both times she did it without asking any questions. Her condition made it to where she would do basically anything she was told. It wasn't her real personality in control. She barely displayed a personality at all. The best part was that the next day she was always a clean slate. Nothing remembered. Her brain just didn't record long term memories. I was going to miss this desperately once the doctors performed the procedure to make her fully recover. I knew there was still several months left before it was safe for them to do that though, and I would make the most of that time.
So after that month I was more confident in my ability to manipulate her actions, having been bolstered by my continued successes. The most recent time the guys had taken yet another series of videos and pictures of her fucking them. I knew it was only a matter of time before these popped up somewhere, but I was increasingly managing to push that out of my mind. We'd cross that bridge when we came to it. And weirdly, that extra risk and thrill turned me on even more. It was just another thing on her growing list of consequences.
I tried to think of where I wanted to take this next, and how. Watching her get fucked by these dudes who didn't know or care about her had been great, a thrilling power trip, but I felt myself already getting bored with this vanilla approach. I knew it was a dangerous road I was treading, but it was going to take more and more to satisfy me.
I know it sounds strange, but around this point I began keeping a secret spreadsheet of her sexual partners. If this was going to escalate, I wanted to have documentation of exactly how depraved it got. She was up to ten guys now, counting me. I'd write their name, if I knew it, next to their number, along with a brief description of what all they'd done with her (oral, vaginal, etc.). Next to number six was my name. Just pulling up this document and perusing it briefly was enough to drive me to masturbate. Ten different names. I thought about how Christy would have surely considered any person having a "number" above 3 (or even less) to be shameful, and it only made me harder as I looked at the list. My heart raced as I thought about how much longer it might get. Each fuck that raised her tally was irreversible: her number could only go up, never down. She could only become more and more corrupted.
It was around guy number ten that my insane lust started making me want to ratchet the situation up. I was becoming a demon to my newfound passions, the power and imposed shame of it all. As I typed that tenth name into her spreadsheet, her tenth vaginal partner, I decided that I had to introduce some new element to it. Some new thrill. I decided what it would be rather quickly.
I took Christy to a clothing store and got her to buy the sluttiest clothes I could think of. I wanted a variety of options so I made her get a few loose, super low cut blouses, some tiny crop tops, some super short shorts and skirts, and finally a couple pairs of five-inch fuck-me pumps, one pair open toe and one closed. Having her fuck a few dudes in private wasn't fully getting the job done for me anymore. I wanted members of the public to find her trashy.
I gave her new uniform a test run the next day. I picked her up at her parents' house, telling them we were going to go see a movie. I drove to the mall and parked far out in the parking lot. I grabbed a pile of the clothes from the backseat.
"Put these on," I told her.
She looked confused for a moment but quickly obeyed. She slipped her tshirt over her head, but before she could put on the blouse I had picked out for her I reached over and unhooked her bra.
"Won't be needing that," I smiled at her.
Without even seeming to notice what I'd done she just blankly smiled back and pulled the new top on.
When we got out of the car I looked at my handiwork. She looked incredibly sexy and slutty, yet still with that cute, innocent face. It was a very incongruous image. Her long, wavy amber hair flowed down over a black, loose top with a plunging neckline that went down to just a few inches above her belly button. Her modest little bra-less tits did not do much to fill it out, so if she moved just the right way the fabric sometimes moved and revealed a sideways glimpse of her nipple. If she were to bend forward you would be able to see absolutely everything.
Right past her bare midriff came the booty shorts, hugging her ever so slightly protruding hip bones. I had taken a pair of scissors to them and trimmed the back of them even higher than they came from the store, so the round bottoms of her bare ass cheeks were completely out in the open. As petite as she was, her ass was perfectly pert and round. I almost wondered if it was too much and she would be kicked out. Her long, shapely pale legs looked wonderful, leading down to just her low-top Converse sneakers, which she wore with ankle socks. I kind of wanted her to wear those to keep an element of the girlish teen charm. To top it off I had her put on a black choker necklace.
As we entered the mall I immediately felt many pairs of eyes on us. Christy was, obviously, oblivious, but nearly every head, male and female alike, turned to gawk as she walked by.
When we got to the main part of the mall, where the larger crowds were, I decided to try something. I was feeling a little awkward and insecure standing next to Christy as all these people looked at her. It would be much better if I could observe things as a neutral bystander. It was easy enough to pull off. I led Christy into a small clothing store with several standing racks of shirts on the floor, then did a quick maneuver, weaving between a few of them until I was out of Christy's immediate sight, then I walked quickly to the back end of the store. I watched her through a gap in the racks as she wandered around for several seconds, looking for me. Soon enough, just as I expected, she adopted a lost, blank look on her face, and suddenly her movements lost all sense of purpose. In the 45 or so seconds I had been hidden from her, she had completely forgotten I was with her, or really what was going on at all. I stalked her carefully as she wandered about, trying my best to look natural.
Soon she left the store and I followed at a distance. Now I could watch people's reactions naturally.
Christy wandered about slowly, walking leisurely down the way with no purpose. Nearly every person that passed her took a look, even if only for a brief second. Males in particular took long or repeat glances, some with their eyes widening briefly in surprise. A particular group of guys who had been walking rather quickly behind her suddenly slowed to a near crawl when they caught up to her and noticed her plump little asscheeks hanging out of her shorts. They tried to act nonchalant, as if they just happened to be walking at the same slow pace right behind her, but their incessant staring was incredibly obvious. One of them slipped his phone out, and after checking behind him to make sure no one nearby was watching, recorded a video of Christy walking, her pale but firm asscheeks working, back and forth, as she walked. Eventually Christy slowed to a stop and then went and leaned against the railing looking down to the lower floor. When the guys pulled up along side her their eyes nearly bulged out again as they now saw her loose top flopping forward, revealing her braless breasts and nipples.
This scene played out several more times in similar ways. Nobody directly confronted her, somewhat to my dismay, but almost everybody looked, and several others snapped pictures discreetly. After about an hour of this I reappeared to her and we left.
This adventure had simply served to whet my appetite. I wanted her to really get defiled - do something to raise her "number" higher again. Ten wasn't enough.
I pulled out my phone and began searching social media for any kind of party that might be happening that night. I had always searched for things happening on the other side of town, where no one would probably know us, but now as I looked at Christy sitting there in the passenger seat of my car with her slutty little outfit I got a new idea. Taking her around like this to complete strangers was great, but wouldn't it be better if there was a possibility that someone we knew would be there? My pulse quickened at the thought of actual classmates of hers seeing her dressed like this, and possibly getting a chance to fuck her. What could it hurt? Several people already knew about that bathroom incident. Why not reinforce her new reputation?
