Chapters (so far):
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen


When they showed Morgan the footage of her rape, she started to cry almost immediately.  Luckily, Brea had planned for that.


Morgan visited in the early evening, and Brea had spent the entire day teasing her brother’s cock in preparation.  Once again, Brea had started the day by giving Michael a blowjob, and then harvested his cum and piss to feed to their mother Veronica for breakfast.  Veronica, spacier every day thanks to the drugs Brea was feeding her, ate the tainted food without complaint. 

Then Brea tongue-kissed her mother goodbye, as Veronica prepared to leave for work – and as she did, Brea lifted up her mother’s skirt to show Michael that Veronica had forgotten to wear panties entirely.  Michael blushed to see his mother’s naked ass, but Veronica barely seemed to notice, and when Brea tucked the skirt into itself to leave her mother on display, Veronica made no effort to fix it.  Her face was flushed, but it was unclear whether it was from humiliation, Brea’s drugs, or from the experience of tongue-kissing her own daughter.

Then it was Michael’s turn to kiss his mother, aware that her hairy, bare pussy was inches from his cock.  He untucked her skirt, to re-cover her ass, and found himself unintentionally groping her buttocks as he did so.  His mother moaned with lustful urgency, and pressed her body against his, not seeming to be aware who she was kissing and humping against.

Meanwhile, Brea made out with her father, who seemed less concerned and more eager about this whole routine with each day.  He eagerly tongue-kissed Brea, and his arms wrapped around her, one hand resting on her ass.  Brea moaned sluttily into her father’s mouth.

Then it was over, and both parents left for work.  For the rest of the day, Brea didn’t let Michael’s cock stay unstimulated for even a second.  She was always touching it, pumping it, licking it, stroking it, or otherwise teasing it.  As she did, she discussed with Michael their plans for abusing Morgan.  She didn’t call Morgan by name – she called her “the cunt”, and encouraged Michael to do the same.

The plan was to desensitise Michael, and dehumanise Morgan, so that Michael would have no trouble raping and enslaving a girl who was genuinely non-consenting that even.  They shared crude jokes about Morgan’s rape, discussed which of her holes would be more fun to violate, and took turns cruelly mimicking her facial expressions from the rape video and laughing.

Twice, the teasing became too much for Michael, and he couldn’t resist fucking his sister.  As always, she would struggle and resist, encouraging Michael to slap her, force her, and rape her, which Michael did with increasing ease on each occasion.  He found that he loved abusing his sister – almost as much as she loved being abused.

They had lured Morgan to their house on the pretext of “catching up with her old friend Brea”.  She arrived wearing a demure knee-length pleated skirt and a pretty green sweater.  Rather than let her into the house proper, they instead led her to the garden shed in the backyard, where they wouldn’t be interrupted by their parents.

The shed had once been used to store their father’s gardening tools, but he hadn’t done any gardening in years, and the backyard was now tended by a professional gardener who attended each Saturday.  It had stood disused up until today, when Brea had rapidly transferred the remaining tools to the garage, swept and cleaned the inside, and installed a simple mattress, rugs, and throw pillows, to turn it into a kind of camp-space-slash-boudoir.

“This looks nice!” said Morgan, still unaware of what the siblings had planned for her.  She knelt on the mattress, making herself comfortable as Brea and Michael sat next to her.

“How have you been, Morgan?” asked Brea, with a cruel smile. 

A shadow passed across Morgan’s pretty face.  “It’s… been a difficult year,” she admitted.

“I know!” said Brea.  “Say, didn’t you get abducted and raped this year?”

Morgan was shocked.  “How did you know about that?” she demanded.

“Well, we watched some very entertaining videos,” said Brea.  “Michael, show her.”

Michael opened his laptop, and pressed play on a random file from Morgan’s rape videos. 

In the video, Morgan was nude, standing, and locked on a device commonly known as a one-bar prison.  It was a vertical pole extending upwards from the floor and ending at a dildo that was fully embedded in Morgan’s naked cunt.  She was standing on tiptoe, but even then she was unable to raise herself up high enough to get the dildo out of her pussy and move freely.  Her hands were bound in rope behind her back, and her mouth was stuffed with a ball gag.

Clamps were attached to her nipples, and from the clamps hung weighted metal balls.  In the video, Morgan’s eyes were watering with pain.

“Bounce,” said a male voice from off camera.  “Bounce until the clamps come off.”

Morgan-in-the-video made a mewling noise of refusal.  A cattle prod extended into frame, and touched Morgan’s clit lightly.  There was a BZZZAPP, and Morgan screamed into her gag.

“Bounce,” said the voice again.

They watched as Morgan began to awkwardly bounce up and down atop the one-bar prison.  Each bounce skewered the dildo into her pussy – and made the weighted balls attached to her nipples fly up and down, yanking agonisingly on her tits.  Morgan in the video was really crying now.

The real Morgan’s eyes were wide.  “How did you get this?” she said.  “Why are you showing me this?”

Brea shrugged.  “We have our sources,” she said.  “But I think you’d agree it’s *exceptionally* hot.  I’m getting wet watching it right now.”

Morgan’s mouth twisted.  “It’s obscene!  I can’t believe you’re… *enjoying* these things that were done to me!  I thought you were my friend!”

“I learned a lot at college, Morgan,” said Brea.  “I think it’s time for you to learn it too.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” said Morgan.  She began to rise to her feet.  “I’m leaving immediately!”

“Get her, Michael,” said Brea.

Michael was already moving.  His cock had been hard when Morgan arrived, it had got harder looking at the shape of the redhead’s large tits through her sweater, and it had been straining painfully against his pants since he had started up the video.  All that mattered was satisfying it using this sultry, degraded rapedoll.

He grabbed Morgan, and wrestled her back to the bed.  “Shut up, cunt,” he told her, and before she could scream, he stuffed a pair of Brea’s panties into her mouth.  They had used the panties to clean Brea’s cunt earlier in the afternoon after Michael had raped her, and Morgan’s mouth was immediately filled with the taste of Michael’s semen and his sister’s cunt-honey.  Michael grabbed a roll of duct tape and used it to tape Morgan’s mouth closed with the panties inside.

Morgan’s screams were muffled and unintelligible, but Michael thought she might have been yelling, “No, no, not again!”  He ignored her, and focused on pulling her skirt down her legs, and then her panties, to expose her pert ass and the same pretty shaved cunt that could be seen impaled on the one-bar prison in the video.  The videos revealed that Morgan’s abductor had used laser hair removal on her – her pussy hair would never grow back.  With her fuckhole appropriately exposed, Michael bent her leg back and taped her ankle to her thigh, to stop her kicking.  Then he taped her wrists together behind her back, after which he finally yanked her sweater up to expose her chest.  She was wearing a bra, but it uncinched in the front, and it took Michael only a few minutes further to have it out of the way, leaving her large udders in full view.

On the video, Morgan had finally bounced enough to make the clamps lose their grip on her nipples and fly free.  As they ripped themselves loose from her tits, she could be seen to scream into her gag – and at the same time, her body shook and spasmed, and it was clear to everyone watching it that she had just orgasmed from the pain and the violation of her pussy.

“Good girl,” said the male voice on the video.  A masked figure moved into camera, and stroked Morgan’s cheek lightly with one gloved hand as she cried.  “You’re a good slut,” he repeated. 

Vulnerable, confused, and pathetic, Morgan-in-the-video nuzzled affectionately at her captor’s hand.

“You did well with your tits,” said the man.  “Now it’s time for your cunt.”  And he picked up one of the weighted clamps, and attached it to Morgan’s exposed clitoris.  The trapped girl screamed into her ball gag once again.

“Bounce until it comes off,” the man told her.  “If you do well, I’ll let you drink my piss.”  And then he retreated out of frame.  Morgan began to bounce obediently.

“Now, it’s my understanding that no one on the original distribution list of these videos has used them to blackmail you into being a sex slave,” said Brea.  “But that’s about to change.  Understand, cunt?”

On the bed, bound and gagged Morgan looked up at Brea with a mute appeal for mercy in her eyes.

“Michael is about to ungag you,” said Brea.  “And when that happens, one of three things is going to happen.  One is that you are going to scream, and if you do that then everyone you know, and everyone on the internet, is going to see you orgasming from rape and torture, and begging to drink piss.  Do you understand?”

Morgan began to cry.

“The second alternative is that when Michael ungags you, you’re going to look at me, and beg to lick my pussy until I cum, and then drink my piss,” said Brea.

Morgan made a sound that might have been, “No, please, no.”

“And the third is that, instead, you’re going to look at my brother Michael and beg him to slap you, and then rape your cunt and your asshole,” said Brea.

Morgan’s tears became more intense.

“And after that we won’t be done with you, not by a long shot.  You’ll just be deciding what you’d like to do for us first,” said Brea.  “Go ahead, Michael.”

Michael ripped the duct tape off Morgan’s face, and pulled the panties out of her mouth.

“Which will it be, cunt?” he asked her.  He liked calling this non-consenting sex-toy “cunt”.  It felt good.  It felt right.

Morgan looked from Brea to Michael desperately.

“Ten seconds,” said Brea.  “Ten.  Nine.  Eight.  Seven.  Six.  Five…”

Her eyes fixed on Michael.  “Please…” she begged.  “Please… slap me.  And rape my… my cunt and my asshole… sir…”

“Interesting!” said Brea.  “She really doesn’t want to fuck a girl!  Oh, this is going to be *fun*!”

But Michael was already moving.  He slapped Morgan hard across the face – God, it felt good – and then moved her into a crawling position.  With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t support her front end, so her face was pushed down into the mattress.  He knelt beside her, got out his cock, and pushed it hard into her fuckhole.

It slid in.  To his pleasure and amusement, Morgan was wet.  Her slippery, warm pussy hugged his cock eagerly.

He was really doing it.  He was raping a non-consenting woman.  She didn’t want him to fuck her, but there was nothing she could do about it.  She was letting him. 

It was the best feeling of his life.  He began to pound his hips against her ass, pistoning his cock in and out of her baby-tunnel.  He didn’t know if she was on contraceptives and didn’t remotely care.

On the video, Morgan had managed to bounce the weighted clamp free of her clitoris, and she was screaming and orgasming again.

Brea was taking off her clothes in front of Michael and Morgan, doing a slow-but-not-too-slow striptease.  “See,” she said, “from your face, it looks like you’re shocked about how quickly you went from being a normal girl with rights and thoughts and dreams to a helpless sex-doll for men to violate.  Which is strange, seeing as that’s already happened to you once before.”

Brea’s skirt came off, revealing her cunt.  Of course she was wearing no panties.  “But the thing is,” she continued, “you were making a mistake.  You were *never* a girl with rights and thoughts and dreams, because there’s no such thing.  You were *always* a rape-toy, because you were born with a cunt.  You’ve just been confused all this time, and now we’re setting you straight.”

She stripped off her shirt, exposing her tits, then walked around to behind Michael.  “Now we’re going to help you, cunt, to learn that while you should be embarrassed by cumming from pain and degradation, it’s not because that’s unusual.  In fact, that’s the only way a woman *should* cum.  The embarrassment is because you’re a woman, and you should be ashamed of that all the time.”

“From now on, you’re going to come around here once a day, in the afternoon, cunt,” Brea continued as she got down on all fours behind Michael, “and you’re going to convince one of us to rape you.  And if you don’t, we share your rape videos with the world.”

And as Morgan’s body shook with horrified sobbing – and, Michael thought, judging by her wet pussy, with lust – Brea pushed her face forward into Michael’s ass, and began to tongue Michael’s asshole, demonstrating to Morgan how a girl could be a good sister when her brother was raping her friend.

And the final culmination to Morgan’s shame was that, even with Brea giving Michael that extra stimulation, Morgan still orgasmed before her rapist did.


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4 thoughts on “Story: Brea Comes Home From College, Part 7


    1. Thanks! I haven’t gotten around to new chapters of Brea Comes Home in a while, but be assured that the story isn’t forgotten – there will (eventually) be more!

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