It was 3 am when Chloe came home. Her slutty little black clubbing dress was stained with spilled drink, her shoes were missing entirely, and she reeked of alcohol.
Michael and Sarah were waiting for her. They had both stayed up, anticipating her return.
She looked at them as she came in the door. “What’r you both here for?” she slurred. “Izz late.”
“Chloe, just look at you!” exclaimed her mother. “Where have you been? We were worried about you!”
“Partying,” slurred Chloe. She waved a hand at Michael. “Away from him. Havin’ fun with friends.” She sneered at Michael. “Friends who are real men.”
Sarah made a sharp intake of breath. “Partying? With boys?” she gasped. “And where are your shoes?”
“What shoes?” asked Chloe.
“The ones I bought you for Christmas,” said Sarah. “The ones you were wearing when you left the house. The *expensive* ones.”
“Lost ‘em,” said Chloe indistinctly.
Sarah’s face flushed with anger, and Michael had to put a hand on her to calm her down. “Easy, Sarah,” he said. “I’ll deal with this.”
To be honest, it was not surprising that Chloe’s mother was emotional. Starting a week ago, Michael had switched Sarah’s birth control pills with an experimental new drug he had obtained from a friend, which he had been promised would gradually make Sarah more sexually aroused, stupider, and more submissive, and so far it appeared to be working. He was enjoying sexually teasing her each morning and night, getting her worked up but denying her an orgasm, making her beg for him to cum inside her, ignorant of the fact that doing so could impregnate her.
He often talked to her as he teased her, and the topic of these conversations was most often Chloe. He was getting Sarah accustomed to talking about her daughter while her pussy was wet, and making decisions about her daughter’s life while in a state of arousal. He enjoyed leading Sarah to say out loud that Chloe was a slut, and a whore. Last night Sarah had even volunteered, entirely of her own volition, that her daughter “deserved to be raped”, and he had rewarded her for it by letting her cum.
Afterwards she had been so embarrassed that she had agreed without argument that she should start dressing a little sexier herself, and gave Michael permission to throw out any of her clothes that he didn’t find attractive. He had immediately thrown out more than half her wardrobe, including all of her underwear. Right now, she was entirely panty-less herself, although Chloe didn’t know that. She would buy more lingerie tomorrow, of course, but Michael intended to keep throwing out anything she bought until she started selecting underwear that was truly and deeply humiliating to her.
Sarah didn’t seem to understand her own antipathy towards her daughter, but Michael knew it was simple jealousy. Chloe was younger than Sarah, and when she made the effort to scrub up, she was prettier (although Sarah was gorgeous enough herself). Some part of Sarah could see Michael’s sexual attraction to her daughter, but refused to recognise it consciously, instead expressing itself by increasingly placing Sarah in sexual competition for Michael with her own daughter. The more attention Michael paid to Chloe, the more Sarah wanted to see the difficult brat spanked and slapped and – Michael smiled – raped.
When he had given Chloe her first breast spanking last week, it had been such a pleasure to beat the little teen whore’s boobs that he hadn’t wanted to stop. Each agonising slap to her udders made Chloe hate him more – and the more she hated him, the more aroused she got from her hypnotic conditioning. He kept slapping her melons, and her cunt kept getting wetter and wetter as she stared at him in naked, impotent fury and lifted her tits to let him hit them harder.
But stop he had – because he wanted Sarah to take a turn. And Chloe’s mother had accepted eagerly, taking his place, and beating at her daughter’s naked breasts with her hand. She was, if anything, even more vicious than Michael had been.
And as Sarah beat her daughter’s tits, Michael knelt behind Chloe to “hold her in place”. What Sarah didn’t see was Michael working his hand between Chloe’s legs, and beginning to quickly rub her pussy through her panties with his fingers. Chloe gasped, and her mouth opened wide – but Sarah thought that was just from the pain of the spanking – and then a moment later, she orgasmed, looking into her own mother’s eyes, with her mother’s hands on her tits.
Sarah didn’t even notice. She was too lost in the pleasure of taking out her confused emotions on her daughter.
“Dirty little slut,” whispered Michael into Chloe’s ear as he removed his hand and stood. Then, louder, “Now you may go to your room, young lady.”
Chloe did, fleeing in humiliation.
The confrontation that night had been provoked by the latest choice in the Daughter Tuning app. The choices appeared with enough regularity that Chloe anticipated them now. Her conditioning didn’t let her abandon her phone, or avoid looking at it, but she had announced that night that she didn’t intend to be home for the choice, and had left the house, dressed for a nightclub, before Michael could stop her.
The choice had come up anyway.
“Please and thank you” said one option. “Grateful for discipline” said the other.
“Oh, they both sound so good,” Sarah had said. “I haven’t heard Chloe say please or thank you in years.”
“We’re going to have to punish her tonight,” warned Michael. “And she’s going to be difficult.”
Sarah thought. Michael noticed her blushing, which she clearly didn’t realise she was doing, and knew that Sarah was picturing slapping her daughter’s tits again.
“You’re right,” she said finally. “It would be nice for her to be grateful.”
Michael nodded, and selected the option on the app. What Sarah didn’t know was that Chloe had received additional programming on her last visit to Dr Martin’s office – programming that required her to sexualise each new piece of tuning she was given. He looked forward to seeing the results.
Now, here she stood in front of them, drunk, disrespectful, shoeless.
“We’re not going to get anywhere with her until she cleans up and sobers up,” said Michael. “Chloe, go take a cold shower.”
Chloe’s only response was two words that she would never have been stupid enough to say if she hadn’t been drunk.
“Make me,” she spat.
Michael looked at Sarah. Sarah only nodded at him.
Michael stepped up to Chloe, grabbed the front of her little black dress, and pulled. It ripped easily, as he had known it would, tearing away from her body. It had been ruined anyway with the alcohol she had clearly spilled on it. Underneath, Chloe wore only a pair of lacy pink panties – no bra.
Chloe gasped and squealed. She tried to run for her bedroom, but Michael tackled her and dragged her to the floor. He grabbed the hem of her panties, and pulled them down her legs as she kicked and struggled, and soon she was completely nude.
“You have only yourself to blame, sweetie,” Sarah said, and Michael stripped her daughter naked.
Then Michael stood, grabbed a fistful of Chloe’s hair, and pulled. Chloe shrieked as she was dragged bodily by her hair towards the bathroom, sliding along the carpet on her back. She struggled, and was able to get up on all fours, but Michael kept walking, and Chloe had no choice but to crawl along like a dog behind him, her naked tits wiggling beneath her. Sarah remained behind in the lounge.
When Michael got to the bathroom, he pulled Chloe to her feet, then pushed her into the shower stall. Her back hit the tiles. He turned on the cold water, and Chloe shrieked as she was drenched in any icy deluge. Michael stepped under the water, not caring it was soaking his clothes, and pinned Chloe against the shower wall. He slapped her across the face, then slapped her across her naked tits, then slapped her face again.
“Thank me,” he growled.
Chloe’s eyes widened, and he could see her forming the words “fuck you” on her lips – but instead she said, “Thank you,” in a grateful, desperate voice – and then leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It was a passionate, slutty kiss, and she moaned as she kissed him, and ground her naked body against his.
He enjoyed every moment of it.
When it was over, she pulled back, and her face twisted into horror. “What did you do to me?” she whispered. A further wave of disgust ran through her as she felt her hatred begin to moisten her pussy.
“Made you grateful, like every daughter should be,” said Michael, and slapped her again. “Thank me,” he said.
She did, with another deep, slutty kiss.
“I hate you,” she spat, afterwards. “I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I hate what you’re doing to me.” One of her hands dropped to his groin, and began to massage his stiff cock through his wet pants. “Why don’t you just rape me, and have done with it?”
Her voice dropped, to a desperate, choking whisper. “Please. Please just rape me.”
He slapped her again, for good measure.
“Thank you,” she breathed, and kissed him again.
He kissed her back, until her squirming told him that she was losing control, her body wild with arousal. Then he turned off the shower water, grabbed a towel and gave her a rough drying off, and then grabbed her by her hair and dragged her back to the living room.
There was no hiding her arousal from her mother now. With her naked, wet body on display, her flushed cheeks, hard nipples, and puffy, engorged cunt were obvious to everyone.
“Look how she reacted to the shower,” said Michael, feigned disgust in his voice.
“Chloe!” exclaimed Sarah. ‘What on Earth is wrong with you?”
Chloe blushed. Her hypnotism allowed her to say nothing of what had happened in the shower – at least, not without claiming that it was entirely her idea and her fault. She just remained silent.
Michael dragged Chloe to the lounge, and threw her down on it. “Watch her,” he said to Sarah, and went to the bedroom to retrieve an item he had prepared earlier for just this occasion.
When he returned, Chloe was still lying on her back on the couch, having made no attempt to move. Her legs were spread slightly, and there was a dazed, slutty look on her face.
“Shoes are a privilege, not a right, young lady,” said Michael. “Especially when they’re expensive ones that your loving mother bought you as a gift. I can’t believe you’d be so disrespectful as to just lose them.”
“I’m sorry,” said Chloe, indistinctly.
“You will be,” said Michael. He moved to the end of the couch, and seized Chloe’s naked feet. He was struck by how cool and delicate they were. She had painted her nails a soft pink. He held her by her slim teenaged ankles for a moment – and then began to put on the shoes he had brought from the bedroom.
They were pink high heels – very high. They were an eight-inch heel, and he knew that Chloe would barely be able to walk in them.
“What are you doing?” asked Chloe, confused.
He ignored her, pulling each shoe onto her feet, one at a time.
And then he did up the locks.
Each of the shoes had a small but sturdy padlock attached to the buckle, at the centre of a web of straps that wove around Chloe’s ankles. Once the padlock was locked – with a tiny key that Michael afterwards deposited in his pocket – the shoes could not be removed short of cutting them off with a knife.
“You’ll wear these shoes until you learn to look after your clothes,” he told her. “You can wear them indoors, you can wear them to bed.”
Chloe kicked her feet frantically, trying in vain to get the shoes off. “I don’t think I can walk in these!” she objected.
“Then you can crawl,” said Michael coldly. He looked at Sarah. “Your mother agrees that this is appropriate.”
He hadn’t consulted Sarah in advance at all, of course, but she answered as he knew she would. “Very appropriate,” Sarah said, giving Chloe an icy glare.
Chloe screamed in frustration and hatred. They both watched her nipples get even harder. Then, compelled by her hypnosis, Chloe said in a quiet voice, “Thank you, daddy.” And slowly, deliberately, she parted her legs – with Michael still holding her ankles – to give Michael a better view of her cunt.
“Chloe, don’t be a whore!” shrieked Sarah in disgust.
Michael shook his head, pretending to echo Sarah’s horror. “Use the app, honey,” he told her. “Take my phone, and ask it for a punishment.”
Sarah picked up Michael’s phone and engaged the app. She furrowed her brow, then looked at Michael. “It says ‘clean her mouth out with soap’ or ‘spank her pussy’.”
“Your choice, honey,” said Michael. He was still holding Chloe’s legs. “Remember that she chose these to go in the app herself, because she said they’d help her to learn.” Chloe had said no such thing, but she was compelled to pretend she had.
Sarah looked at the app, then at Chloe. She pressed a button on the app, then stepped forward.
“Please, mom, no,” moaned Chloe, seeing what was about to happen, but powerless to defend herself.
“You brought this on yourself, Chloe,” said Sarah grimly. She knelt by the couch, her face next to her daughter’s face and tits. And then she lifted her hand, and brought it down – hard – on her daughter’s cunt.
Several things happened at the same time, more or less simultaneous with the sound of Sarah’s hand slapping with a squelchy thud into Chloe’s sopping wet fuckhole. The first was that Chloe screamed. The second was that she arced her whole body, bucking wildly. This was because she was orgasming – her mother’s touch was the final stimulus to send her aroused, confused body over the edge.
The third thing that happened was that she turned towards her mother, wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, and said, “Thank you,” in a breathy, whorish whisper.
Then she kissed her mother on the lips, pushing her tongue into her mother’s mouth, as she orgasmed against her mother’s hand.