The bus pulled up to the curb, and Melanie heaved a sigh of relief. Service in this part of the city was always so bad. If she didn’t have four daughters to feed, she would have bought a car by now just to save herself the hassle. Then again, her brother was officially still her owner, so he would need to sponsor her lessons and driver’s licence application… It was wishful thinking anyway. Best not to dwell on it.

She boarded the bus and sat down with an exhausted sigh. Her glossy black hair tumbled over the back of the seat into the lap of the girl sitting behind her. She was still wearing her work uniform, including a large, prominent butt plug, so seating herself was troublesome. The pressure was either uncomfortable, or distractingly pleasurable, or both. Her bare wet cunt left streaks across the already-stained seat of the bus, adding to stains of coffee, piss, blood, cum, throat slime, and the many other fluids commonly spilled on public transportation.

“Damn. That bank knows how to dress its bitches,” a man across the aisle said. She looked over at him, a lump rising in her throat. Attracting attention on public transit was a bad idea. So many women got snuffed on these buses that there were ropes provided specifically for hanging their used corpses in the back of the bus. There were already three there, and she had too much going on in her life to become the fourth.

But…

She looked across at him, taking him in. He was handsome, she supposed. A few years younger than her, probably a college student on his way to the sorts of executive positions that her pussy forbade her from. He wore a shirt and vest, with a set of pants that would make it easy to whip out his cock at a moment’s notice – and given the strain in his left pant leg, it was a true anus-destroying, gut-churning, puke-inducing behemoth. He had a confident smile, too – objectifying, assured of his own position above her. There was an edge of cruelty to his smile that made her even wetter than she already was. It made her feel like eye-candy, and made her simultaneously wish and dread to be more.

“I’m talking to you, slut,” he said, leaning closer. “Let’s see that body. Show it off!”

She bit her lip. It had been a while since she’d gotten this kind of attention, and she couldn’t pretend it didn’t excite her. She stood up out of her seat and gave a little twirl, showing off the revealing work uniform.

It was styled to look like a suit, but in the most degrading and sexualized way possible. The black outer layer covered only her sides and upper arms, leaving her tits, holes, asscheeks, and midriff bare. The white inner layer was even less helpful, composed of wispy wire lingerie that supported and presented her tits without covering them, and a white garterbelt holding up her pantyhose. The garter belt also had spreader hooks attached, pierced into her labia to keep her worthless pussy constantly splayed open and on display. Combined with the massive butt plug with the company logo printed on it, she was in constant discomfort that reminded her of her place as a woman at work. She had responsibilities, but was ultimately an object, and thus disposable. And, of course, owned. The locked high-heels on her feet signified that clearly.

“What do you think?” she asked, smiling down at him.

“I think you’ve taken a hook out.”

“Huh? Oh.” She blushed. He was right. There was supposed to be a final spreader hook lodged through her clit. She usually removed it once she was out of the bank. Something about this boy’s attention, though, made her quickly reach down and reattach it, sending a throb of pain and pleasure through her body and spreading her cunt a little further.

The other women on the bus watched, some with envy, some with relief, as the man’s hands began exploring the MILFy banker. She was an older woman – fast approaching 25, with a fully-developed body that was rare to see on a female in public life. The butt plug in her ass also had the words “Digital Securities Analyst” written around the outside. It was a high-ranking title for a woman. The plugs got bigger with each promotion, and this was one of the largest her company produced.

“You’re an important bitch, aren’t you?” he said, running a hand over the straps holding her pussy open. She twitched when he pulled on one, giving her labia a torturous little tug.

“Y-yes I aAAm, sir. As important as a cunt like me can be, anyway,” she said modestly.

“Do you think you need to be put in your place?”

Her eyes flitted to the dead women swinging from ropes at the back of the bus. He followed her gaze, and his smile widened a little further.

“Exactly the place I was thinking of,” he confirmed. “I think you’ve lived too long and been too successful. A smart bitch like you should have been snuffed long ago.”

“Why’s that, sir?” she asked, not wanting to contradict a man, but also feeling a hint of panic rising into her throat.

“Smart bitches start to think they’re worth something.” He tugged the strap again, and she winced. “Are you worth something, smart bitch?”

“No sir. I have a cunt. I’m worthless and disposable.” It was a parroted line, drilled into her since elementary school, and she said it automatically. In her mind, though, she thought …But they would find it hard to replace me at work. And my daughters would have trouble getting along without me. And the girls at my book club would be lost without my analysis. And I am pretty skilled at math, with a good memory…

“You’re sure?” He tugged once again, this time on the strap attached to her clit. Her back arched, and a runnel of lube trickled down her inner thigh to soak into her already-stained nylons. “I can facefuck pick other girl to help me get my rocks off. There’s plenty to choose from here. Or you can just give me a blowjob and go home in one piece. I just figured that a cunt like you, in a job like that… you might be in need of a man to put you in your place.”

My place? My place is exactly where I am. An important member of the staff, a valued employee, a mother of four, a…

She recognized the self-worth for what it was, and it stunned her. How long had that been building? And how had this stranger read it so easily?

“H-how do you know?” she asked, still shaking from the yank on her clit. He did it again, and drew a moan from her lips.

“You’re not the first smart bitch I’ve dealt with. You’re not as unique as you think you are, and believe me, when the bank gets word you’ve been snuffed, you’ll be way easier to replace than you would expect.”

She felt deflated. But there was also some relief to that knowledge. She realized she’d been burdened by that responsibility.

“And my daughters?”

“Plenty of girls grow up orphans.”

It was true. She had. So had most of her friends. All women died by the age of 27, so nobody had a mother into adulthood.

“…Or, if there’s no space in orphanages or foster homes, they’ll be snuffed by the government when it’s discovered that they don’t have a guardian. But that’s okay. They’re just as worthless and replaceable as you.”

Her darling girls, replaceable…? Yes, it was true, she supposed. The four of them could be easily replaced by vat-grown sluts, or any of the millions upon millions of orphans. When had she started thinking of herself and her daughters as people rather than as cunts? That was a serious violation. Female thoughts of self-worth were an offence to the natural patriarchal order.

“So? Am I right? Do you need to be put in your place?”

She looked again towards the dead women hanging in the back of the bus. They went around a corner, and they all swung to the left. They looked so peaceful. And Melanie had been stressed for… who knows how long? Women – no, cunts – were never meant to have self-worth. It was a burden on her mind, she realized. Snuff would be a relief.

“Yes, please, sir,” she said. Her hooked-open pussy dripped onto the floor with sudden wetness, and that was her confirmation that this was the right thing to do. The cunt knew its place, even if the brain deluded itself.

“Good.” He pulled her closer with a hand on each of her ass cheeks, and made her sit down in his lap. “Take my cock out and stroke it, bitch. You’ve got to get me hard if I’m going to hurt you the way you deserve.”

“Yes, sir,” she said happily. She cuddled up against him, and with one hand reached down to open the flap in the front of his pants. It took a bit of fishing to find his dick, but once she had it, her heart skipped a beat. God, it really was a monster… her fingers and thumb barely even met when wrapped around it, and that was with it soft. She pulled it out into the open and let it rest against her thigh as she started stroking it to full hardness.

“Can you gape me?” she asked.

His fist slammed into her belly, making her wheeze. “What was that, slut?”

She gasped for air, floundering around for manners she had barely needed since she got her job. “Sir… please, will you fuck me in my asshole and make me gape? Please, sir?” Her eyes watered.

“Better.” He gave her ass a more approving jiggle with his other hand. “Yeah, I’ll fuck your ass, you dirty bitch. But first, let’s work on your manners a little bit. Honestly, it’s good that your daughters won’t be raised by you any further. They would have grown up to be such rude bitches.”

“Yes, sir. You’re right sir,” she said, nodding amicably. It still felt wrong intellectually, but her body was still reacting favourably, so she followed that. The wetness of her pussy was her guiding star at this moment.

“Lick my ass,” he said, standing up and dumping her onto the floor. She crawled around behind him as he steadied himself against a pole, and pulled down the waistband of his pants. His anus beckoned, and as she began to lick and probe, she reflected that it had actually been a long time since she debased herself like this.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir!” she said in between licks. She spread her legs and let her pierced pussy drip on the floor, forming a rivulet that stretched away under the seat. The flow redoubled when he turned around, his bitch-breaker waving in her face, and took her by the throat.

“Open,” he ordered. She complied, and immediately her throat was being battered. She gagged almost instantly, and kept on gagging. It had all been blowjobs lately. She hadn’t been facefucked into a crying, miserable mess in far too long. Old habits began to take over, though, and she held her hands under her face to catch the cascade of spit.

“Puke, bitch,” he ordered. She looked up, quizzically, and he said “Puke in the middle of this public bus, with everyone watching. You’re a filthy, worthless bitch. Act like it.”

She nodded as best she could, and received a slap for her trouble.

“A man doesn’t need confirmation. Just obedience. Do it, don’t say you’re going to.”

She tried. She angled her head to let him hit her uvula, battering it directly and sliding his cockhead across it. She was almost there, but couldn’t quite reach that peak of nausea. Her sinuses were filled with slime and drool, her eyes watered, her chin coated in a viscous mess. But despite her gagging, she couldn’t quite make herself puke – not here, not in front of everyone. It was too embarrassing.

As if reading her mind, the man slapped her again. “Hey. What do you have to be embarrassed about? You have a cunt! Nothing else could possibly be more embarrassing than that! These people already know you’re worthless. You’re the only one holding onto a sense of self.”

Again, her emotions objected, but her pussy knew it was true. She sucked in a gurgling breath and then punched herself in the stomach. A wave of watery puke rushed over the man’s cock and balls, making him groan and his cock spasm. Her empty stomach was suddenly refilled a moment later by a torrent of jizz flowing straight into it – her final meal, she quickly realized.

“Hah… good girl,” he said, steadying himself against a pole. Melanie coughed and spat, feeling disgust at what she had just done. But when she looked around, surveying the other women on the bus, she saw nothing but approving looks and wet pussies.

A hand clenched in her hair, and she yelped as she was led away towards the back of the bus. Up a short set of steps, and she was suddenly among the swinging legs of the dead bitches she would soon join. An empty noose hung right above her, and she knew in that moment that it was the one she would die in.

“Are you a dirty little snuffslut?”

She nodded.

“Say it!” She reeled at the slap, grabbing onto something for balance, only to realize that it was a set of locked high-heels of one of the dead girls.

“I’m a dirty little snuffslut!”

“And are you anything else?”

“No, sir! I’m nothing else! I was never anything else! I was only pretending.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she abandoned the identity she’d spent years building, but there was a deep fulfillment in the admission. She was disposable. Interchangeable.

The man draped his cock over her face and pissed, slow and gentle, letting a thin film of foul fluid run across her features like a waterfall down a rock face.

“Really? You’re not a career woman? Or a mother?”

“No, sir! I’m a snuffslut! And my daughters are all snuffsluts, too!”

“Good girl. I think you’re ready to have your asshole blown out now. Show me that plug.”

She turned around, dragging her locked heels across the floor and pointing her round ass towards her saviour. The man who had shown her the error of her ways – the man who she now owed everything to. She just hoped she could bring him pleasure.

He was rubbing himself back to a full erection as he watched her spread her cheeks. Her holes were beautifully on display – one hooked open, the other filled with a bowel-stretching plug. He leaned down and, one-handed, grabbed the base of the plug.

Melanie tried her best to relax. It wasn’t enough. The yank was enough to make her shriek. A less-experienced bus driver might have swerved at the sound, but thankfully this one had heard plenty of sluts die in the back of his vehicle.

Melanie was left, her cheek on the ground, breathing raggedly. She could feel the coolness of the air on her guts, and with the looseness back there, she knew she was prolapsing. The rank plug had really done a number on her guts since her promotion, and she’d never fully recovered from a wild gangrape when she was a preteen.

It didn’t seem to bother her abuser, though, as he shoved his dick straight into the squishy rosebud of exposed guts and began hammering her relentlessly. She screamed again. The pain was intense, but her pussy told the true story: this was where she was meant to be. It spasmed and strained against the hooks, drenching the floor between her thighs.

“Oh God… Oh God, please let me die,” she whimpered into the filthy floor.

“All in good time, slut.” He grabbed her by the hair again and used it to slam her head into the ground. She cried out, again and again, as painful thrusts and eye-rattling impacts shook her world. The bus went around another turn, and a young girl hanging from the ceiling bumped against her.

“Please…” she begged again and again. “Please. Please.”

“Please what, cunt?” He slammed her into the floor again, drawing out a pitiful whine.

“Please put me in my place,” she said through a split lip.

“Fuck!” He came at that, almost instantly. She whined one more time as her guts were filled up. He unleashed a stream of piss into them too for good measure, then finally pulled out.

“Hold that all inside!” he ordered. “I don’t want any spilling out until you’re dead!”

“Yes, sir.” she tried to clench, but found that her prolapse was still in the way. In the end, she had to reach back and stuff her guts back inside by hand before she could tighten up enough to keep the fluids inside.

The man was standing over her, tapping his foot impatiently. She tried to struggle to her feet, but after the brutal rape she found she was having trouble.

“Could you help me up, please, sir?” she asked.

He did one better. He released the ratchet on the noose and lowered it down to her. She gratefully put her neck through it and tightened it around her throat. The sturdy synthetic fibre was itchy against her skin.

He quickly secured her hands with one of the provided zip-ties from a nearby bin, and then began pulling on the other end, hauling her upright using the pulley set into the ceiling. She gagged and choked on the rope, following it up until she was on her tip toes. He stopped for a moment.

“Thank you, sir. For showing me my place,” she said. And for the first time in years, she wholeheartedly believed it. She was happy to be a woman again rather than a worker. Just a useless cunt, to be disposed of at her abuser’s whim.

“You’re welcome, cunt,” he said, and gave the final yank. Her feet lifted off the floor, locked high heels kicking in search of support and finding none. She bumped against the other corpses, looking into their lifeless eyes, reflecting that she was about to be just another one of the barely-noticed bodies in the back of the bus. It was an appropriate way for a woman’s life to end.

“Oh, this is my stop.” The man stepped away from her, leaving her choking and thrashing there. “Nice meeting you, snuffmeat. I hope your daughters never have a chance to be as misled as you.”

She had no other way of saying goodbye, so she let her bladder go, spraying piss in a humiliating, and thus deeply feminine, display of submission and inferiority. He laughed at her, gave her hooked clit one last yank that sent a white-hot spike of pain through her, and then he was gone. She died less than a minute later, in agony and desperation, just like half a dozen other women on the same bus that day. It was an utterly unremarkable death for an utterly unremarkable cunt.