Abby woke to the feeling of her tits being whipped with a leather belt, as she lay on the back on the cabin floor. She screamed, and writhed, but she saw it was Richard doing it to her, and she instinctively made no move to protect herself.
“Why?” she managed to moan. “What did I do, sir? I’m sorry I’m so stupid. I don’t know what I did.”
It was probably just because she was a woman, she thought. That was usually why pain happened to her – why she *deserved* to have pain happen to her.
But the answer turned out to be more specific.
“You’ve been half-awake and begging me to whip your tits for half an hour, Rape-Udders,” said Richard. “You’ve been lying there and fondling your giant fuckmelons and saying, ‘Abby is such a bitch, she should have her tits whipped, I should have my tits whipped, please whip me, sir.’ I’m just giving you what you asked for.”
Abby accepted this explanation immediately. It sounded correct. It sounded like something she would do. She even half-remembered it.
“Thank you, sir,” she gasped, between agonising lashes of the leather belt to her fuckbags.
“I’m going to whip you for 20 minutes, or until you cum,” Richard told her, and struck her breast again.
Rape-Udders moaned. She was so wet. She had been wet all night, picturing Abby being tortured and raped, keeping her cunt moist to avoid the shocks from the chastity belt. She needed to cum. She had been able to cum last night just from thinking slutty thoughts. Could she do it again?
She fantasised about Abby being raped by a dog. She squirmed, rubbing her legs together as Richard abused her tits.
“I am a stupid porn fuckdoll,” she whispered to herself. “I deserve to be raped. I’m an animal, not a person.”
Her eyes fixed on the photo on the wall that showed her spread cunt, with the words “THIS IS YOU”. It was true. Abby Fields was a person – a bitch – who deserved to be raped. Rape-Udders was a cunt, that existed to be fucked. The cunt represented her more truly than her face did. She stared at the cunt, and pictured Richard whipping it with his belt.
Her body shook. She orgasmed – and orgasmed again. Richard gave her one last lash across her bruised fuckbags, and then re-cinched his belt around his waist.
“Good slut,” he said. Then he took out his cock and began to masturbate. Rape-Udders lay there, until she felt him ejaculate on her face and tits, coating her with sticky globs of sperm.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, and rose to her knees awkwardly to lick his cock clean.
She expected Richard to bring her some breakfast, now that he had cum – but he didn’t. She supposed her breakfast would happen after she had crawled outdoors to toilet and be hosed down – but when Richard had finished soaking her down, and given her a pleasant orgasm from having the hose shoved up her cunt, there was still no sign of any food.
Knowing it was a bad idea, knowing she would be punished for speaking out of turn, Abby nevertheless found the courage to ask about it.
“Sir,” she said, “may I have breakfast?”
“No,” said Richard. “You are a failure as a slut. You will not be fed again until you realise why you are a failure and beg to fix it.”
He led her back inside and installed her at her “writing table”. “You may continue writing your book, Rape-Udders,” he told her. “But there is an extra sheet of paper here for you to write down your ideas as to why you are a failure.”
He left her there. Abby stared at the paper. She was a failure? After everything she had learned from Richard? Hadn’t she had any failures punished by having her tits whipped that morning?
She couldn’t for the life of her think what Richard meant. She felt stupid.
“I AM A STOOPID DUM CUNT,” she wrote, slowly, on the paper. She knew how to spell these words – and indeed, would spell them correctly when she worked on her book, shortly – but that was *Abby’s* knowledge. Rape-Udders truly was a stupid dumb cunt, and this was how she wrote. Looking smart made her feel anxious and dirty. People might mistake her for that bitch Abby if she was smart. She should save her smart for when she was pretending to be Abby, like when she wrote her book.
She hoped that being a stupid dumb cunt wasn’t how she had failed, because she didn’t know how Richard could possibly fix it.
She turned her attention to her book – or rather, Abby’s book. “I Am A Slut, by Abby Fields.” The pages she had already written detailed Abby’s sexual encounters with the family dog, and an extensive history of fucking her own father. Rape-Udders had made those stories up to humiliate Abby – except, if they were made up, why could she picture them so vividly? Had they been in her dreams. She could picture her father’s naked body. She could feel his thick, hairy cock penetrating her pussy lips – and her whole body spasmed with the imagined memory.
Abby must have really done those things. What a slut she was. She deserved all the humiliation that Rape-Udders was going to give her. She felt a momentary rush of deep, loving gratitude to Richard, for giving her the opportunity to get even with that bitch Abby like this.
She looked down at her tits briefly, and felt a surge of revulsion at their huge, porn-doll roundness. She looked like such a stupid whore.
“MY BOOBIES R TOO BIG, I AM A COW,” she wrote on her list of ideas.
But that wasn’t right. She deserved to have big tits, because she was a whore.
“MY BOOBIES R TOO SMOL, I WISH THEY WUR BIGR”, she added.
She knew the two statements were contradictory, and felt a surge of self-hatred for being so stupid. “I’m a disgusting slut,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t deserve to be in control of my own pussy.”
Maybe Richard would fix her by beating her tits because they were too big, or by giving her another boobjob to make them even bigger. She felt sick and afraid at the thought, and felt her pussy spasm with wet, slutty need.
She began her work on Abby’s book. She was in the middle of Abby’s school years, and she now began the process of betraying each and every one of Abby’s childhood female friends. For some, she revealed real secrets that the girls had trusted Abby with, secrets that would humiliate them if they were shared with the public. She outed poor conservative Mary Saunders as a lesbian – a secret that Mary had confessed to Abby in tears, filled with guilt at her slutty urges – and went on to describe Mary’s confused, shameful sexual encounter with one of Mary’s mother’s friends in which Mary had orgasmed from having her pussy licked by the older woman.
She described how popular cheerleader Montana Gray had secretly worn an adult diaper to her cheerleading performances, to enjoy the sexual thrill of wetting herself in front of a huge crowd – a secret Abby had discovered upon catching Montana changing in the female toilets after a football game, and which spoiled rich brat Montana had paid Abby five hundred dollars to never share. Montana had gone on into a career in politics, and was now running for the state parliament, so there should be lots of interest in this particular revelation.
She disclosed how Jacqueline Kay on the debate team had had an affair with Mr Barry, who taught English Lit, and how she loved the thrill of having Mr Barry’s cum secretly drying on her tits beneath her chastely buttoned school uniform. Even years after the fact, revealing the affair would ruin both Jacqueline’s life – she had ended up becoming a teacher too – and that of Mr Barry, which Rape-Udders supposed Mr Barry deserved for making them read books that suggested that women were good for anything except raping.
To add to these, Rape-Udders made up completely fictional stories. For example, it was a true story that Abby’s best friend Madison had been traumatically raped by the manager at her part-time job at a takeaway store, and that Madison had gone to the police, testified in court, and her rapist was now serving a prison sentence. But Rape-Udders added a story about how Madison had confessed that the entire rape was a lie that she had made up to get even with her manager for not giving her a pay rise. She described how Madison had laughed about fucking the man over, and how Madison and Abby had shared slutty mutual masturbation, fingering their pussies and kissing as they got off to the idea of ruining the man’s life.
She described how her lesbian friend Kia wasn’t really a lesbian, but just a girl who liked to cocktease men and then say no to them. She described an imaginary encounter where Abby and Kia had shared a threesome with Abby’s father, and how delighted and eager Kia had been to swallow Abby’s father’s cum. She truly had seen Kia naked once in a change-room, and so was able to describe a specific mole near Kia’s pussy to give the story some credibility. These days, Kia headed up a lesbian rights advocacy group, so she was definitely the same kind of bitch as Abby, and having her life ruined was exactly what she deserved.
Finally, she made up a series of sexual encounters for the school dux, Crystal O’Neill, explaining how she had fucked her way into good grades by seducing each of her principals and the teacher, and how she had spent almost her entire senior year with her anus filled with teachers’ sperm, held inside her by a discreet butt plug.
After all this, she wanted to masturbate – but she wasn’t masturbating. Why? Because Richard hadn’t told her to. Did she need permission? Richard hadn’t said so – but if she was in doubt, shouldn’t she wait?
“I don’t deserve to be in control of my pussy,” she whispered. “I’m too stupid to make my own decisions. I need men to make my decisions for me.”
All the writing had given her some more ideas as to why she was a failure.
“I DONT HAV ANY CUM IN MY ANUS,” she wrote.
Then she thought about how bitchy and slutty all Abby’s friends were – no longer certain whether this was the truth, or just something she had written about them – and wrote, “I HAVNT RAPED ANY OF MY FRENS. THEY DESRVE RAPE. IMA DUM SLUT.”
Then it dawned on her. How could she rape any of her friends – when she had never been raped herself?
And suddenly a wave of horrible emotions washed over her, all at once.
Shame. Why had no one ever raped her? Wasn’t she pretty enough? Wasn’t she fuckable enough? Were her tits too small? The only thing she was good for was being a fuckdoll, but no one had ever even raped her.
Guilt. Richard had been so nice to her, taking her away from Abby, letting her write a book to get even with that bitch Abby – and she hadn’t even repaid him by letting him rape her cunt. What kind of ungrateful bitch was she? Her whorish body clearly made Richard’s cock hard – and yet she had never let him use her cunt as his cum-toilet. She was such a disgusting ungrateful bitch.
“I’m an animal, not a person,” she whispered to herself.
Sadness. What was she even good for, if no one would rape her? She wanted to cry. If only someone would rape her, then she would at least know she was good for something. She wished someone would rape her.
Lust. Her cunt spasmed hungrily, wetly, needily at every thought of rape. It knew what it wanted. It knew what she had been made for.
On the paper, she wrote, “I WANT RICHARD 2 RAPE ME. I DESRV 2 BE RAPED. IM SORY IM A DUM SLUT. PLS RAPE ME.”
She looked up, and saw Richard standing over her. She felt a wave of joy, and her pussy clenched happily at the site of him.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Rape-Udders?” he asked her.
“Yes, sir,” she said, staring at the front of his pants, where she knew his cock was waiting for her. “I deserve to be raped. I’m so sorry you haven’t raped me yet. I’ve been a very bad slut and you should have been raping me every day, if you wanted to. I’m sorry I’m a dumb slut. Please rape me, sir.”
“Now, we’ve been over this before,” said Richard. “When Abby sent you here to be trained, she told me I wasn’t allowed to rape you.”
“It’s okay, sir,” babbled Rape-Udders. “The things Abby says don’t matter. They’re just stupid noise that keeps me up at night. She’s a horrible dumb bitch. Nothing women say matters. You should just rape me.”
Richard was pointing a phone at her. It was recording. “Are you telling me your consent doesn’t matter?”
“My consent doesn’t matter,” she agreed, eagerly. “Abby’s consent doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Abby says ‘no’ or ‘stop’. The things Abby says are just stupid noise. She deserves to be raped because she’s a woman, and because she’s a dumb slut, and I want you to rape me.”
“And let me ask you a question, Rape-Udders,” said Richard. “When a slut like you gets raped, should she be crying – or cumming?”
Rape-Udders had to think for a minute, but the answer was easy. “Both,” she said.
“Good girl,” said Richard. “Well, let’s begin then. And you should understand, Rape-Udders, that I won’t stick my cock in your pussy until you start to cry.”
He stepped forward and slapped her, and slapped her again, and Abby felt each slap like a tender kiss. They made her moan and gaze up at Richard adoringly. Then he slapped her tits – hard – and pushed her down onto the ground, adjusting his pants to extract his ragingly hard cock.
Rape-Udders stared at the cock, eager for it to rape her – but she wasn’t crying yet. Why would she cry from rape, when she wanted it so much? But she didn’t deserve to enjoy rape. Richard wanted her to cry.
How could she cry? She tried her best, but she was still just gasping like a slut as Richard slapped her tits twice more, and then kicked her in the pussy.
The knowledge came to her. She knew how she could cry.
She let herself remember, just for a second, who she really was.
Her face twisted in a mask of horror. She clenched her legs together to protect herself, and brought her arms together swiftly over her tits. “No,” she breathed, her voice full of misery and shock. “No! What have you done to me? Stop it! You have to stop it!”
And she felt herself start to cry.
Richard smiled – a smile of deep satisfaction and approval – and forced her arms away from her tits. His knees spread her legs open, with violent force, and a moment later she felt his cock slip between her traitorously wet cunt lips and deep into her fucktunnel.
She screamed – but there was no one to hear her. She screamed again – and then she orgasmed, and orgasmed again, as Rape-Udders rejoiced in the well-deserved raping she was receiving. It was good because it was rape, and it was even better because Abby herself was experiencing it, and no one deserved to be raped more than that bitch Abby.
“I love you sir,” sobbed Rape-Udders through her tears. She didn’t know if it was true, but she knew that Abby would hate hearing her say it, and that was more than justification enough. She orgasmed again, and again, and kissed Richard deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth, her tears hot and salty against his face.
And as Rape-Udders put Abby back into the box inside her, the cage with the increasingly strong locks, the cage into which Abby would some day vanish and never emerge again, she thought Abby’s screams of violation and humiliation were the prettiest and most erotic sound she had ever heard.