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It was nearly three weeks since Michael and Sarah had enrolled Chloe in the “Daughter Tuning” process, and they were delighted with the results.

The hypnosis seemed to be fully effective in controlling the difficult tantrums of Sarah’s rebellious, bratty daughter, and the associated phone app let them make a new choice about how to improve the teenaged bitch’s behaviour.

Where once Chloe had been a skanky, lazy emo cow who lived in a filthy bedroom and took every opportunity to piss off her mother and stepfather, now they had something they were almost proud to call a daughter.  Chloe’s room was neat, tidy, and decorated in sexy feminine pink.  She still professed to hate Michael, but she unfailingly called him “daddy”.  She wore her dark hair in adorable little-girl pigtails.  She was honest with her parents – humiliatingly so – about her sexual activity and thoughts.  And she was submitting to regular bare-assed spankings by her stepfather, which both Michael and Sarah agreed was a dose of much-needed discipline in the girl’s life.

Of course, Michael was getting a little more from the new Chloe than her mother was.  He had standing permission to slap her across the face when she was difficult or talked back – something he immensely enjoyed doing.  Her spankings involved her lying across his lap with his erect cock pressing against her pussy, and rarely ended without him working his fingers between her legs to find her cunt whorishly wet – a process which often caused her to orgasm, while desperately trying to pretend that she wasn’t.  Her mother would watch through this entire humiliating ordeal, completely oblivious to her partner’s abuse of her daughter’s pussy.

And each night Michael would visit Chloe as she lay in bed, and make her confess the thoughts she least wanted to confess to him, as her hypnosis compelled her to answer honestly.  She would spit her hatred and disgust at him, even as she admitted that the idea of him raping her made her wet.  That thought – her stepfather raping her – was the most common confession during those nightly visits, although he was delighted on one night to hear her describe a fantasy involving one of her female friends, and on another a stray thought about a local male dog.

They had had a couple more choices via the app.  “Short skirts or long dresses?” the app had asked, and Sarah had let Michael choose, as it was “his turn”.  Michael immediately chose “short skirts”, and ever since, Chloe had been dressing in nothing but cute little pleated skirts.  Once Sarah had been sure this was a real thing – and permanent – she had donated all of Chloe’s older longer dresses to goodwill.

The next one was “chaste, or huggy?”  Pictures showed a girl standing demurely with her hands behind her back, or alternatively enfolding her mother in a warm hug.

“Your turn, dear,” said Michael.

“Oh, definitely huggy,” said Sarah.  And sure enough, Chloe began to say hello and goodbye to all but the most passing of acquaintances with tight hugs, including her parents.  She still hated Michael, of course, but she hugged him nonetheless, pressing her tits against his chest and wrapping her arms around him.  Whenever possible, he took advantage of these hugs to lift her skirt and grope her ass while her mother wasn’t watching.  

He loved her reaction to these molestations.  Unable to pull away until she felt she had hugged him enough, the only way for her to move away from his hand was to press herself even tighter against him.  It was a win-win.

It was this provocation that finally pushed Chloe too far.

“Stop it,” she hissed quietly, as she hugged Michael while he groped her ass with her mother in the next room.

“Don’t talk back,” he told her, “or you’ll get a slapping.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” whispered Chloe, “or you’ll regret it.”

He shrugged, broke off the hug, grabbed her by a pigtail and slapped her.

“Everything all right in there?” asked Sarah, calling out from the kitchen.

“Chloe was just mouthing off again,” Michael replied.

“Chloe, be respectful to your daddy,” called back Sarah.

“I hate you,” spat Chloe, nursing her slapped face.  “I hate you.  You’ll regret this.”  And she ran to her bedroom.

They woke the next day to find the consequences of Chloe’s anger.  In the middle of the night, she had found her mother’s mobile phone, and smashed it with a brick.  She had clearly tried to find Michael’s, too – there was evidence of a wild search through much of the house – but had not realised Michael kept it in a private safe under the bed he shared with Sarah, and thus it had been spared her wrath.

Sarah stared at her smashed phone in disbelief.  “Chloe, why did you do this?” she wailed.

“I hate that stupid fucking app!” snarled Sarah.  “I hate you controlling my life!  I just want it to stop!”

Sarah looked to Michael for help.  “I really thought she was getting better,” she said sadly.

“Your daughter is a real bitch,” agreed Michael.  “But I haven’t lost hope.”  He thought.  “I’ll tell you what – how about I take the day off and take her back to Dr Martin, and see if we can get his help to improve her tuning?”

“What?” objected Chloe.  “No!”

Sarah and Michael both ignored her.

“That’s probably a good idea,” said Sarah.  “I’ll just phone my work…”

Michael shook his head.  “No, you go to work.  No sense both of us wasting a day.  I’m quite capable of handling her myself.”

Sarah dithered.  “Are you sure?” she asked.

He hugged her, and kissed her forehead.  “Of course,” he replied.

And just like that, it was settled.  Chloe tried to object further, but her hypnosis compelled her to submit to any medical appointments her parents made, and so she ended up getting into the car meekly and allowing herself to be driven to the offices of Brightway Psychology.

When they arrived, they were shown into a private office, and Michael shook Dr Martin’s hand.  “Thanks for agreeing to see us at short notice, doc,” he said.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” said Dr Martin.  “I do guarantee satisfaction, after all.  I understand Chloe has been… a difficulty?”

“You could say that,” said Michael.  “She had a little baby tantrum and broke her mother’s phone.”

“Ah,” said Dr Martin.  “I see.  Do you have any thoughts about what to do about it?”

Michael smiled.  He took out a cheque, and wrote a number on it, and pushed it across the table to Dr Martin.  Dr Martin raised an eyebrow, and smiled.

“I understand that your program is capable of making daughters… *fully* satisfactory, doc,” said Michael.  “I’d like to take that option.”

“It definitely is,” said Dr Martin.  “My own daughter has come to develop quite a fascination and affection for her father’s cock.  We can do the same for yours.”

Chloe, silent up until that point, now sat up straight, her eyes wide.  “I’m sorry, what?” she said.

Dr Martin didn’t even look at her.  “Chloe, would you go to the chair in the corner and put on the conditioning headset?”

“What are you talking about?”  Chloe spluttered, afraid and furious.  “Your daughter sucks your cock?  What is this?”  But even as she spoke, she was standing, moving to the headset, unable to resist the direction to take part in a medical procedure.  Soon she was sitting, wearing the special headset – that looked very much like a virtual-reality rig – and once she was within it, she said no more.

“I’d like you to add a series of degrading punishment options to the app,” said Michael to the doctor.  “I’ve got some fairly specific ideas of what they might be.  And I want Chloe to claim publicly that it was *her* idea to add those, because she knew they’d be effective at disciplining her, and that she asked for them.”

“Very good,” smiled the doctor.

“And every time we make a choice for her,” said Michael, “I want her to sexualise it.  To make some little addition in her head that makes it all about her cunt, and which humiliates or degrades her.  So it’ll seem like her just choosing to be a slut all the time.”

“Excellent,” said the doctor.

“Now, her mother isn’t quite sold on the idea of her being my sex-puppet yet,” said Michael, “so I’m going to need her to cooperate on hiding my abuse of her from her mother.”

“We can do that,” said the doctor.

“And lastly, we need to do something about all that anger, so she doesn’t smash any more phones,” said Michael.  “Can we turn that anger inwards?  Maybe the more she hates me, the more she hates herself for having rape fantasies involving me, and the more she needs to punish and degrade herself?”

“Let’s not overthink it,” said the doctor.  “Let’s just say the more she hates you, the wetter she gets, and the wetter she gets, the more she knows she deserves what’s happening to her.”

“Perfect,” said Michael.  “Let’s make it happen.”

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All the way home, Chloe glared at him from the passenger seat with pure hatred.  

“You fucking rapist,” she hissed as she got into the car.  “I can’t believe you did this to me.  This is abuse.  This is… I don’t know what.”

“Well, then you should tell your mother that,” said Michael, smiling.

Her face twisted.  She looked like she might cry.  “I can’t,” she admitted, finally.

“I know,” said Michael.  “So just sit there and contemplate what a good girl you’re going to be for her from now on.”

The fury on Chloe’s face was overwhelming – but as they drove, her face when a different shade of red, increasingly flushed with arousal and self-loathing.  As they neared their house, Michael stopped the car and turned to Chloe.

“Is something the matter, Chloe?” he asked her.  “Be honest.”

She was always honest with him these days about her sexuality.  Her conditioning compelled it.

“My pussy is very wet,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you want to cum, Chloe?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she admitted, in a humiliated voice.

“I’ll let you cum if you kiss me and tell me you love me and that you deserve what’s happening to you because you’re a bitch,” he told her.

Her lips scrunched into an angry pout.  She was considering, he could see – but in the end, she shook her head, and turned away, staring in mute fury out the window.

He was impressed at her self-control.  But he knew it wouldn’t last forever.

When they got home, Sarah was already home from work.  “How did the appointment go?” she asked.

“Why don’t you tell your mother, Chloe?” suggested Michael.

Chloe tried to explain what had happened to her – but she couldn’t.  She had to help Michael conceal what he was doing to her.  She wanted to scream, and stamp her foot, and break things – but she couldn’t do that either.

“I talked with the psychologist about why I’m such a brat,” she heard herself say, “and I suggested some punishments that you could do to me that might actually get me to behave.  They’re all my idea.  Some of them are really embarrassing, but I think that’s really what I need to get better.  They’re all in the app now, and you can just press the ‘punishment’ button to get a choice of two.”

Her face was still flushed with embarrassment and anger.  She began to feel like she may never be calm and relaxed again.

“Oh, Chloe, I’m so glad you’re eager to improve,” said Sarah, genuinely grateful.  “And do you think you need a punishment for breaking my phone this morning?”

“Yes,” said Chloe, quietly.

Michael went over to Sarah and pulled up the Daughter Tuning app on his phone.  Sure enough, there was now a big red “punishment” button, which Michael tapped.  Two options appeared on the phone – “Breast spanking” and “Naked below the waist for 24 hours”.

Sarah blushed a little.  “They’re a little…” she began, and then stopped, unsure what to say.

“It’s the only way she’ll learn, honey,” said Michael.  “This is what motivates teenage girls – shame and humiliation.”

Sarah nodded slowly.  “Yes,” she said.  “I suppose so.  Well – spanking her seemed to help before.  Maybe a breast spanking?”

“A breast spanking it is,” said Michael.  He pressed the button.  “Chloe, get over her and remove your shirt and bra.”

And he looked into her eyes as he said it, because they shared a secret.  They both knew, as much as Chloe may wish it were otherwise, that every slap he was about to deliver to her pretty teenage tits was going to make her wetter, and wetter, and by the end she was going to regret not kissing him and telling him she loved him in the car, because she was going to undeniably, pathetically desperate to cum…

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