Page 36 of Shameful Addictions

Dr. Richard was very good at what he did.

Her breasts were tender and moving too quickly made her wince. She couldn’t help poking and prodding a bit though, trying to feel the silicone implants underneath the natural form. She couldn’t.

Looking at herself, she couldn’t see any sign that her hair had once been anything but blonde.

Who she was and who Mamba wanted her to be were melding into one.

She closed her eyes and put her hand to her face.

A few days later, she received the usual notification in the mail, stating that her payment had been waived. She was freed, released for another month, which meant it was time for her to begin her frantic search for some form of monetary gain. Charlotte went and sat down in her office and pulled up a listing of jobs throughout the entire state. She couldn’t legally leave the state until she paid off her debt, unless she went through Mamba and he gave her approval through the court system, but that didn’t prevent her from heading out within its boundaries to chase a job.

The words marched around in front of her, a meaningless trail of ants.

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, her huge new breasts shifting up higher on her chest, aching.

Suddenly, she knew she couldn’t kid herself anymore.

She had gone back and forth all these months between accepting her fate and scheming to get out of her predicament. It was time to stop playing games. She had to grow up and admit she would never get out of this. She would never be rescued or find a way to rescue herself. She was stuck in this, unrecognizable from when she began, and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

Looking as she did, no one would hire her even if she wasn’t public enemy number one. She looked like a whore, a bimbo, a slacker. She looked like she hadn’t a single brain cell in her head and couldn’t type properly or speak clearly or even make coffee without fucking up.

She looked like a brain-dead sex-machine.

The only way for her to make money would be through selling herself, and she refused.

She refused to show herself to the world.

For the next month, she simply didn’t leave her apartment. Everything she needed, she bought online and had shipped to her. Even food. She retrieved her packages in the dead of night when she had no chance of being spotted. Living as she did in a less desirable area now, sometimes her packages were stolen. Money lost, wasted.

She didn’t have it in her to care anymore.

She made her usual return to Mamba’s office. He sat behind his desk, waiting for her with a sharp grin uncoiled on his lips.

Charlotte lowered her head, knowing that he saw her as an extension of the pornographic images on his walls. She was useless, an object, pointless and purposeless without him.

She… needed him.

“Good morning, sir,” Charlotte said quietly. She clasped her hands together. “I’m back again. I can’t pay you this month. I’m… a stupid cunt.”

The words stung far less when they came from her own mouth without him having forced them. They almost tasted like freedom, like choice.

Mamba grinned wider and leaned forward over his desk. “Stupid cunts don’t wear clothes. Show me what I paid for.”

A flush of humiliation brought color to her cheeks. She didn’t resist, though. She’d gone beyond that.

“Stupid cunts don’t wear clothes,” she agreed.

First to go was her oversized jacket, bought cheap online, which she had been using to hide her big tits. Next to go was her shirt and bra, leaving her breasts out on display.

Mamba let out a deep purring sound. “Amazing. Dr. Dick has done a fantastic job on you, as always. Lift up your tits. Let me see.”

Charlotte held her heavy breasts in her hands and lifted them.

Mamba tilted his head and nodded to himself. “No scar. Fantastic. You are a perfect woman now, in appearance.”

She forced herself not to say anything in response. She used to tell her young audience to love themselves despite any flaws they might have, or believe they had. Mamba suggesting a scar would have made her imperfect was just another strike against what she believed in. She was getting used to that by now.

“Keep going, stupid cunt.”

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