It had been too late for her before she had even had time to register what was going on, and the moment she had found herself in the same room as the two men, she had never stood a chance. She moaned desperately around her ball-gag, her body wracked by spasms as the wand vibrator pressed to her soaking pussy pushed her ever closer to the precipice of orgasm.
As the man stood over her, his accomplice fiddling with the contents of a large briefcase behind him, he hoped that the woman’s husband returned home before they were finished. That was always the highlight of a job. Watching the rich bastard realise his spoiled wife had become nothing more than a mindless bimbo, and would soon be servicing the cock of the highest bidder, never failed to draw a laugh from him. After four years on the job he still couldn’t believe the wealthy dicks thought they were untouchable. It was amusing to see them realise that no, of course the gang they had pissed off hadn’t forgotten the debt they were owed. These days though it wasn’t just about getting the payment; a statement had to be made. Besides, an obedient bimbo was worth far more than most of the city boys could pay even if they cleared out their bank accounts.
They had let themselves in through one of the open windows on the ground floor. Despite their ease of entry, the house was so big it had taken them nearly half an hour to find the bitch, and even then she had been in the bath.
Frankly, he had no interest in getting soaked to the skin and struggling to tie the broad up on a slick tiled floor. Work smarter, not harder, as they said. Concealing themselves in an adjacent room they had waited and watched for her to emerge from the bathroom. If he was honest, after an hour he thought she had fucking died in there, and when his watch marked two he was convinced of it. Eventually though, she had left, clean, dry and stark fucking naked.
The man found he suddenly envied two other men: the lucky bastard who had managed to take the woman as his wife, and the even luckier one who would eventually wind up buying her. Tall, blonde and with a body like a pornstar he would have rammed the bitch every which way all night long if he had his way. But he had a job to do, and if he had learned anything as a freelancer it was that you did not cross your employer.
They had barged into the bedroom after her and in barely a minute she was on the bed, white belts tightened around her shoulders, arms and legs and the vibrator secured against her pussy. Through her complaints she had moaned lustfully, and already he was wondering how much she would fetch: moaning sluts were particularly popular. Still, her whiny complaints had grated on him, and in a few minutes more white leather restraints criss-crossed her head securing a thick black ball-gag in her jaws. As his accomplice worked, he savoured watching her succumb: eyes rolling back, body twitching, moans growing deeper, more primal, and her fleshy tits jiggling. He had to say, however much the gangs had paid to get the wand developed, it was money well spent; specifically designed to reduce victims to a shuddering mess, it could break the mardiest prude in under five minutes. The sheets were sodden with her juices, and already she had squirted, the fluid dribbling down her thighs.
‘Ready,’ grunted his accomplice, handing him a pair of headphones. They were large, cushioned, wireless, and bright pink. Personally, he disliked the painful colour, but the bimbos liked it so who was he to complain? Leaning over her, he grinned down at her, amused by the unbridled pleasure that mixed with the fear in her eyes.
‘I bet you’re really fucking horny right now,’ he said. To his surprise she nodded earnestly: for most victims, the pleasure robbed them of the ability to articulate even the vaguest thought. ‘Well I hope you’re ready, bitch, because these are about to make it a whole lot worse. They’re going to make sure you’re always horny. And don’t worry, whoever buys you will fuck you much better than your limp dick husband.’ She practically howled around the gag, a sound of impossible pleasure. He wanted more than ever to fuck her there and then, but he favoured his genitals. Slipping the headphones over her ears he chuckled as she moaned deeper, longer. There wasn’t really much left of the woman anymore, he knew that. She was barely more than an animal at this point.
As the audio bored into her head, rewriting her mind, he waited patiently for his accomplice to prepare the final stage of the bimbofication process. At length, he handed him a bulky, wireless VR headset. He remembered the days when it had been a pair of modified glasses, but VR made the whole process so much slicker. Glancing inside, he checked the swirling patterns and flashing lights, before applying it over the slut’s eyes. She moaned again, her entire body trembling uncontrollably as she was broken completely, settling into her new bimbo mind and being overwhelmed by the erotic stimuli.
In a few minutes, she would walk out of the house with them, giggling and squealing like a little girl. In their sleek black car they would whisk her away to some warehouse for their employers to sell on, and by the end of the week she would be on her knees deep-throating the dick of some lucky rich prick. One of these days, he told himself he would save up enough to buy a bimbo for himself, but as it was, he had to take pleasure in the small things. And unfortunately for him, it didn’t seem like the husband would be back before they left.
Just then, he heard a voice echo up the staircase. ‘Honey, I’m home. Is that you moaning? My little cupcake sounds very horny today.’
The man grinned wider than the Cheshire Cat: he was going to enjoy this…
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