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Previous chapters:
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Rachel was beginning to realise that the Etreborian problem wasn’t going to go away.

“Milo, I have to go to university,” she protested.  “I’m supposed to be at a lecture.”

Milo shrugged.  “There is nothing for a female to learn at this country’s universities,” he said.  “If it matters to you, I suggest you suck your professor’s cock and beg him to excuse you for the remainder of the semester, as you will doubtless miss other classes as well.”

They were in Rachel’s family living room.  Rachel had dressed in a fashionable outfit suitable for attending a lecture – albeit that her shirt was tighter than she was used to, and her skirt shorter, which was a result of Milo’s influence.  Milo, as always, was dressed in his oddly-formal Etreborian business suit, which looked strange on a man so young.

Ever since Milo and his sister had come to stay with the Watson family as exchange students from the misogynistic nation of Etrebor, the entire household had been turned upside down.

“Milo, I’ll fail my degree!” Rachel whined.

“I am taking over your education, Anus,” replied Milo.  “You will learn what a woman of your age genuinely needs to know.”

The realisation that Milo really didn’t intend to let Rachel go to her classes made her snap.  “Don’t call me Anus!” she yelled at him.

Swift as a snake, Milo crossed the distance between them and slapped Rachel across the face, hard.  She shrieked, and fell to her knees, but Milo was already reaching down, catching her chin in one hand, making her look up at him. “Thank me,” he hissed.

Rachel squirmed.  She knew she should resist.  She could leave, or go to the police.  But Milo had pictures of her nude – pictures of her being raped – and he had threatened to share them with her friends if she didn’t obey him.  And her father seemed to approve of Milo’s control over her.  And her mother – well, although it was clear her mother did *not* approve, the last time she had protested, Milo had made Rachel expose her tits to the entire family, and then whipped Rachel’s udders until Rachel’s mother had backed down.  And there had been no further objection to Rachel’s abuse after that.

There was all that – but there was also an even more humiliating reason that Rachel knew she was going to submit.  A reason so shameful that she capitalised it in her mind – The Reason.

She tried not to think about The Reason, and concentrate on her present predicament.

“Thank you for slapping me,” she whimpered.

“Try again,” said Milo, in a voice that implied that she would not get another chance after this one.

“Thank you for slapping me, Master,” said Rachel.  “I deserved it for being a bitch.”

“Good girl,” said Milo.  “Are you ready to receive your education?”

“Yes, Master,” said Rachel.

“You know that your name in the Etreborian custom is Anus because the anus is the third most important part of a woman, and you are the third most important woman in the house,” said Milo.  “If you do not like it, you are welcome to beg me to use a different synonym.  For instance, you could be Shithole, or Butt-cunt.”

Rachel shuddered.  “No, Master.  Anus is fine.”

“Good slut,” said Milo.  “Now, strip.”

Rachel made the mistake of looking over her shoulder towards the front door.  Her father and mother were out at work, but they could come home early.  And her brother Trent was in his bedroom down the hall, probably fucking Milo’s sister Slutglobes.

Milo slapped her again.  “It doesn’t matter if your father was coming through that door right at this moment,” said Milo.  “You would still be required to strip naked.  So get out of the habit of checking who is watching before you obey me.”

“Yes, Master,” whimpered Rachel.  “Thank you for slapping me.  I deserved it for being stupid.”

She hated this.  She hated Milo.  She wanted to kill him. 

But then, there was The Reason.

Obediently, she stripped nude, until she was standing naked before her despised abuser.  She knew better than to try to cover her tits or pussy with her hands, and let Milo’s gaze travel over her freely.  Milo had a special way of looking at her, that made her feel like meat, like an object, like a sex-toy for cumming in, and she knew that was exactly how he intended her to feel.  (Exactly as she *deserved* to feel, she knew he would say.)

“Masturbate,” said Milo.  “A woman’s thinking happens with her cunt, not her head.”

Rachel obediently began to finger her fuckhole.  To her shame, it was already wet, long before she touched it.  She blushed.

“Look at the poster on the wall, Anus,” said Milo.  “Tell me what you think it means.”

Rachel didn’t need to look.  She knew the poster well.  She hated it.  But she obeyed.

It was an Etreborian poster, but printed in English.  Milo had hung it here himself.  He called it a “motivational poster”.

It showed two naked blonde bimbos, one significantly younger than the other.  They had big fake plastic tits, and they were covered in splatters of men’s cum.  The two women were sharing a slutty tongue-kiss, and it was clear they were sharing a mouthful of sperm with each other.  At the top of the poster were the words “GOOD WIFE”, and at the bottom, “GOOD DAUGHTER”.

Rachel was silent.  It wasn’t her intention to disobey, but she didn’t know what to say.  She knew what the poster meant, but she didn’t want to verbalise it.

Of course, Milo slapped her.  And then he slapped her again, this time across the tits.  He did it in a casual, lazy way that suggested he could – and would – happily do this all day, long after she was crying and begging for mercy.

“Mothers and daughters should fuck,” said Rachel quickly, her face contorting with misery as she said it.

“Yes, that is one thing it implies,” said Milo.  “Tell me nine more.  Or else I will leave you here, nude and masturbating, for your father to enjoy when he comes home.”

Rachel looked at Milo in desperation, but he was serious. 

“If you are silent for more than 20 seconds between answers, I will not give you another chance,” added Milo.

Rachel stared at the poster.  “Um,” she said.  “Good daughters and good wives should be nude.”

“Good,” said Milo.  “That’s two.”

“Good daughters and good wives have blonde hair,” added Rachel.

“Three,” said Milo.

“They have big fake tits.  They’re sluts,” she said.

“Four and five,” said Milo.

“They let men cum on them.  They let men photograph them nude for posters,” said Rachel.

“Six and seven,” said Milo.

“They don’t have pussy hair.  They let men cum in their mouths.  They enjoy the taste of cum and they share cum with each other.”

“Eight, nine and ten,” said Milo.  “Well done, Anus.”

There was a note of genuine surprise in his voice, and Rachel couldn’t help but feel a treacherous shred of pride that she had done so well.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

There was a long silence.  Rachel shifted awkwardly, still rubbing her cunt.  She was very wet now.  She thought that she might be able to cum soon.  She prayed she would.  It was hard to think properly.

“Well?” asked Milo, finally.

Rachel looked at him.  What did he want?

She knew what he wanted.  She just didn’t want to do it.

She played dumb, and let him slap her across the face, then the tits.  She thought if he slapped her tits one more time, she might orgasm (although she knew she wouldn’t), but instead he just drew back, disappointed.

“I thought you were making progress, Anus,” he said.  “Very well.  You can await your father.  You do NOT have permission to cum until he sees you.”

Her eyes widened.  Was he serious?  He couldn’t be – but of course he was.

She blurted out what he wanted to hear.

“I should become a good daughter,” she said.

Milo turned back to her.  “Very good, Anus,” he said.  “And where do you want to start?  Which of the lessons of this poster should we work on first?”

“I already don’t have pussy hair…” she said.

“You shave,” he said.  “It will grow back, unless steps are taken.  Shall I book you for laser hair removal?”

She blushed.  Milo looked at the door, and she panicked, thinking her father was home.  “Yes,” she said, hurriedly.

“And what else?” he asked.

She thought.  She couldn’t think.  Her pussy was so wet.  Was this really happening?  Was she agreeing to let Milo turn her into that person – that whore – in the poster?  This wasn’t real, was it?

“I don’t know,” she said, desperately.

“A good answer,” said Milo.  “You are a woman and you cannot think for yourself.  You appeal to a man for help, as you should.”  He considered, and then said, “It will be convenient to make the cosmetic changes all at once.  I will book you in for breast surgery, and hair dye.”

Her eyes widened.  Breast surgery?

Milo chuckled.  “Your father will love the new you,” he said.  “And now it appears you have made my cock hard, Anus.  It is time for you to deal with that fact.”

And just like that, Milo raped her.

She would have submitted and spread her legs for him.  His control over her was strong enough.  But he didn’t want her to submit.  He wanted to take her.  And so he slapped her again, and then pushed her to the ground, tits down, and then lay on top of her, forcing her legs apart as she struggled, and jamming his hard cock into her anus.  It didn’t matter to him which hole he found, and she knew he would penetrate her in both before finally cumming.

But this was The Reason – the inescapable truth of why she would not seek to escape from Milo.

Because although she had discovered masturbation along with puberty, and had the normal urges of any girl to play with her pussy and satisfy her lust, she had never managed to reach orgasm by herself, no matter how much of her fist she forced inside herself, no matter what toys she used, no matter what slutty fantasies she pictured.

The first time Rachel had ever orgasmed was the first time Milo had raped her.

And it had been good.  As good as she had dreamed.  And she knew she would do anything to experience it again.  She would put up with anything, as long as Milo kept raping her.

Every time Milo raped her, Rachel orgasmed.  And the more scared and humiliated she was when he raped her, the harder she came.  Sometimes the pure shame of orgasming from rape set off a second orgasm.

Today, she had not only a second orgasm, but also a third.

“Thank you, Master,” she slurred sluttily as Milo ejaculated into her anus.  “Thank you for raping me.  I deserved it for being a stupid slut.  Thank you for helping me become a good daughter.”

And right there, shaking from the strength of her rape-orgasm, Rachel meant every word of it.

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