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But no matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to find someone who understood, who craved to inflict what she needed to receive.

She tried in her local BDSM groups when she found the courage to tell others what she was looking for and mostly she was bet with rejection and comments about how disgusting what she wanted was.

If only she were a "normal" submissive, one who just enjoyed the sensation of being tightly tied in bondage and flogged or caned, but no, though she enjoyed such treatment, that was not what she craved, what she needed.

What she needed, what she craved above all things was deep humiliation, to be used as a toilet, a whore, a bitch in heat.

There was something different about her, she had always known it.

The degree to which people found her odd depended on what company she was in.

She tried online, but mostly what she found were players whose idea of humiliation was to make her crawl or call her names, who didn't understand the deep things that she craved.

She quickly changed and put on fresh makeup, then looking around exited the building as fast as possible, hoping no one saw her.

Every hour she would check, until right before lunch the email that she was desperately seeking arrived.

"Today at lunch, go buy some proper slut clothes, short skirt, low-cut top.

Collecting her courage, she picked up her purse and locking her car, walked to the address on the email, walking up the stairs at exactly .

On the front door, she saw an envelope with the word CUNT written in big, bold, black letters.

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