Abby had fallen so far in less than a week at Richard’s cabin – but, as she had agreed to so long ago, he kept her there for the whole month.
Every night she slept fitfully in haze of lust and insecurity and increasing hatred for that bitch Abby who screamed at her from the television. She began to identify more easily and naturally as “Rape-Udders” with every day that passed. What had begun as play-acting to please Richard slowly became her reality. And soon she *wanted* to be Rape-Udders – because remembering that she had once been Abby brought the horrific knowledge of how many of her ideals she had betrayed, how much of her life she had let Richard take from her. It was easier not to know, and just treat Abby as the spoiled cunt who deserved to be raped rather than an identity that in any way belonged to her.
Each morning she toileted in the woods on all fours like an animal, after which Richard would hose her down. She ate her meals in uniformly slutty style – stuffing them up her cunt and then digging them out with her fingers to transfer to her mouth, or eating from a dog bowl on the floor.
She spent every day horny – Richard had trained her to be in a constant state of arousal – but he would only ever let her orgasm if she was crying. As such, she had two guaranteed orgasms a day. In the mornings, before lunch, Richard would whip her cunt or pussy with a belt until she orgasmed from the pain. She knew that this abuse was somehow punishing Abby for being a stupid bitch, and so she awaited it eagerly, keen to get her revenge on the cunt who had ruined her life, even as it became less and less clear to her how pain in her own tits and cunt in any way affected Abby.
Her second orgasm would come in the evenings, when Richard would rape her. He was not always rough with her on these occasions – although they would usually start with him slapping her across the face and pushing her down – but it was okay, because she had a guaranteed way to make herself cry. It was the same way she had used the first time he had raped her – she just let herself remember who she truly was.
It was just like opening a little latch in her mind. There would be a sense of a fog clearing from her brain – and then she would know that she was Abby Fields. She would know she was being raped, and she would start to struggle and scream. Richard would hold her down, and the pace of his fucking would intensify – he seemed to like knowing that she hated it – and Abby would start to weep incoherently and beg him to let her go, until finally she felt him ejaculate into her womb, and that would trigger her own orgasm.
And like a cage door clanging closed again, the orgasm would put Abby back in her box.
Rape-Udders didn’t think much about this process, because thinking about it would remind her that Abby was, in fact, the same person as her. She just thought of it as “hurting Abby”. She could feel that doing what she did made Abby miserable – that it, in fact, traumatised her – and so she loved doing it.
She did it so regularly that eventually it became automatic. If she was being raped, she remembered she was Abby. Those were the only times that her original personality surfaced now – in the middle of violent rape – and when she felt a cock non-consensually slide into her pussy it just happened. She couldn’t have prevented it even if she wanted to.
She continued writing her book – her biography of Abby. She explained how Abby had made her way through her university degree in feminist theory, fucking her teachers to get high marks, cynically claiming to believe in women’s rights when really she knew all women deserved rape.
She told the story of the boyfriend who had made her come to “hate the porn industry”. In real life, Abby had discovered her boyfriend cheating on her with two fake-titted strippers, leading her to a crusade of vengeance against the sex industry generally. But in Abby’s biography, she instead described herself joining her boyfriend in group sex with the strippers, licking their cunts and sucking their nipples. She described how the girls had tried to back out of sex, but Abby had kept going, raping the unwilling women until she orgasmed using their non-consenting bodies. She wrote about how she had gotten soaking wet from calling them sluts and whores and degrading them, and how that had inspired her to begin degrading and humiliating sex workers on a larger stage through her professional career.
“Everything I’ve ever done in my entire life has been to serve my cunt, after all,” she wrote.
She described fucking her way into a publishing contract, fucking her way into a speaking tour deal, fucking her way onto talk shows. She confessed that in every public appearance, on TV or in lecture halls, she had had a butt plug in her ass, a vibrating dildo in her pussy, and a clothespeg clamped to her clitoris. She confessed that she usually had a man’s wet sperm drying on her body as she spoke.
She wrote for the majority of each day, and the book was done quickly. Somewhere in the third week, Richard summoned a lawyer to the cabin, who took the manuscript from Abby to have it published.
“Would you like a reward for finishing the book, Rape-Udders?” Richard asked her.
Rape-Udders nodded eagerly.
The reward turned out to be the opportunity to impersonate Abby’s signature, so as to sign away control of her finances, house, and publishing deals to Richard. Rape-Udders giggled and masturbated as she signed each piece of paper with the lawyer watching. Soon that bitch Abby wouldn’t own a single thing. She would have to ask Richard for permission to buy her clothes and groceries. It was wonderful.
Richard let the lawyer rape her afterwards, and when he stuffed his cock into Rape-Udders’ pussy, and the personality of Abby returned, her panic was on a far greater scale than ever before. She knew she had just given up her *life* – not just a month of abuse at a cabin, but everything she owned in the world. Richard had to hold her down and repeatedly slap her, until she finally sobbed her way to an orgasm and went back into her mental box.
From the following day, a series of women began to visit the cabin. Each day, a different girl would turn up at the door. They were all feminists, and Abby knew them all. Some had been her role models. Some had been her students. Some were just her friends. Each of them was here to let Abby rape them.
Rape-Udders looked at the first girl on the first day. It was Sarah Constance, a friend of Abby’s from university. They had both completed their degrees in Feminist Theory together. Sarah was pretty and blonde and someone that Abby had always felt safe to confide in.
“What do you mean, sir?” she asked Richard. “Why would she let me rape her?”
Sarah was blushing, standing with her arms crossed, looking down at the ground. She clearly didn’t want to be here.
“Sarah here has gotten into a bit of a financial hole,” said Richard. “She’s in a lot of debt, and for most women feminist theory doesn’t exactly pay the bills. But luckily it made Abby Fields a lot of money, and that money now belongs to me, so I’ve offered to bail Sarah out, if she lets you rape her.”
“But I don’t want to…” began Rape-Udders.
“She’s a feminist, Rape-Udders,” said Richard. “What does she deserve?”
Rape-Udders knew the answer. “She deserves rape.”
“Good girl,” said Richard.
“Please don’t do this, Abby,” begged Sarah, quietly. “I don’t know what he’s done to you, but I can help.”
Rape-Udders felt a surge of anger. “I’m not Abby,” she said. “Abby is a dumb bitch who deserves to be raped.”
“Please, Abby.,..” begged the girl.
And that was enough for Rape-Udders. She remembered all the stupid feminist things Sarah had said over the years. She remembered how she had made Abby feel good, and happy, and empowered, and loved, and Abby didn’t deserve *any* of those things.
She sprang at Sarah, slapping her across the face and ripping at her clothes. Sarah didn’t fight back, just sobbed, as Rape-Udders stripped her naked and pushed her to the ground.
Despite everything, Abby had never *really* fucked a girl before, but she made a quick study of it. She mounted her friend, pressing her cunt against Sarah’s mouth to shut her up, and then leaned down into a 69 and began to lick at Sarah’s pussy in return. It tasted good. It tasted slutty. It tasted like what she deserved.
She orgasmed on Sarah’s mouth fairly quickly – she realised she was crying as she raped the girl, and didn’t even know why – but she kept licking, because Sarah deserved to have the experience herself of orgasming from rape – and though it took Rape-Udders a while, she got Sarah there in the end.
Richard filmed it all, of course – as he filmed each of the following days. Every day was a new girl. Some were paid to be there. Others were being blackmailed, using information that Rape-Udders herself had provided from her knowledge of Abby’s life and the embarrassing secrets she had sometimes been privy to about other women. None of the women could be said to be fully consenting, but Rape-Udders didn’t care. Each of them was a feminist. Each of them had been important to Abby. And therefore they deserved to be raped.
She became increasingly creative with each raping. She liked it best when the girls were crying, broken, humiliated. She would insult them, slap their tits, pinch their clitoris, until they were sobbing as hard as Rape-Udders herself was crying, and then both girls would cum together.
Richard had Rape-Udders write emails to the girls afterwards, blackmailing them with the footage he had filmed. Rape-Udders would tell them to abandon their feminist ideals and become porn-stars, prostitutes, obedient wives for men they hated, and the women would do it. She made them get boob-jobs, dye their hair blonde, and legally change their names to demeaning pet-names. Rape-Udders was ruining their lives, and she did it eagerly.
And then finally the fateful day approached – the end of the month.
It was time for Rape-Udders to go home.