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Chloe had been sent to her room in disgrace. Alone in her bedroom with her fiance, Sarah was beside herself with rage.
“She kissed me on the lips, Michael!” she exclaimed. “I was just disciplining her for being a brat, and the little whore *orgasmed* and then kissed me – her own mother – right on the mouth!”
The “disciplining” had involved Sarah spanking her daughter’s nude cunt – hardly a normal procedure of discipline – but to Michael’s pleasure Sarah didn’t even seem to realise there was anything unusual about how she had punished her daughter.
He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s such a big deal, Sarah,” he told her.
“Not a big deal?” said Sarah. “Normal daughters don’t tongue-kiss their own mother.”
“Sweetie…” said Mark, attempting to calm Sarah down. He moved toward her and put a hand on her shoulder – and with the other he reached down and began to stroke her cunt. Sarah was often randomly aroused now, due to the drug that Michael had replaced her birth control with, and this was no exception. Her pussy was wet, and she made an involuntary moan as her fiance began to finger it.
“I just don’t know what to do, Michael,” she sighed. “Is my daughter a lesbian? Or just a slut?”
“Sarah, we know that Chloe is a troubled teenager,” said Michael. “She’s had a lot of trouble connecting with you since her biological father left, and she sees me as an intruder. But she’s still as desperate for parental love and affection as any teenager. It’s only natural that when the dam breaks, it would express itself in unusual ways. Honestly, it’s great that your daughter wants to be this close to you.”
“But… orgasming from a pussy spanking?” asked Sarah. “That’s not just affection!”
Michael laughed. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe she’s a bit of a slut as well. Nothing that a bit more discipline can’t cure. But in the meantime, why don’t you just try this out? Give her a tongue-kiss every morning – and while you’re doing it, you can feel her cunt, and check whether she’s just being affectionate, or whether she’s getting off on it.”
Sarah didn’t agree with that idea at first – but Michael kept rubbing her pussy, and kissing her, and rubbing her pussy, and kissing her, and finally Sarah was so desperate to cum she would have agreed to anything.
“Yes,” she moaned, finally. “I’ll kiss Chloe. Every morning.”
“Good girl,” said Michael, smiling – and allowed her to cum.
Chloe, of course, did not want to kiss her mother. She’d only done it as a result of extreme arousal, plus the hypnotic compulsion to provide a sexualised thank-you to anyone who disciplined her. And so when Sarah tried to kiss her the next morning, she pulled away, and said, “No, thank you.”
Under ordinary circumstances, that might have been the end of it. But Michael had woken Sarah up at 4 am that morning, and begun to sexually tease her, keeping her in a heightened state of arousal until he heard Chloe rise from her room. He had told Sarah that she could come back to bed and have an orgasm after she had kissed Chloe – and disciplined Chloe, if it turned out she was a slut – and Sarah was desperate to cum.
So when Chloe pulled away, her mother slapped her across the face, and said, “Kiss me, you little slut.” And then slapped her again, and again, until Chloe – shocked and in pain – submitted. She stook stock still as her mother pressed up against her and slid her tongue in Chloe’s mouth. Then she jerked with horror as she felt her mother’s hand move between her legs, and slip into the waistband of her panties, two fingers sliding into the crevice between her pussy lips.
Chloe hadn’t been wet – but as soon as she realised what was happening, she knew that somehow Michael had made this happen, and she felt a fresh and intense bloom of hatred for him that left her trembling with rage. And then, as per her hypnosis, that hatred transformed into disgust at her own slutty submission – and into the warm, throbbing wetness of arousal in her cunt.
Her mother pulled away from the kiss, and held up her fingers, wet with her daughter’s fuckhoney. “Slut,” she spat – and then pushed her wet fingers into her daughter’s mouth. Chloe tasted her own cunt juices on her mother’s fingers.
And then, as soon as it had started, it was over. Chloe’s mother pulled away from her, and ran back to the master bedroom, eager for Michael to let her cum.
Chloe heard her mother say – in a whining, childlike voice – “Please, can I cum?”
And she heard Michael say, “Tell me your daughter is a slut who deserves to be raped.”
“Chloe is a slut who deserves to be raped,” said Chloe’s mother, promptly – and then a long, slutty moan, which Chloe realised was her stepfather’s cock sliding into her mother’s pussy.
“Keep saying it,” said Michael. “Louder.”
“Chloe is a slut who deserves to be raped!” moaned Sarah. “Chloe is a slut who deserves to be raped!”
It was so loud that there was nowhere in the house to escape it. Chloe ran to her bedroom, and listened to her mother repeat again and again that her own daughter should be raped – until, finally, she heard her mother make a loud, wailing, orgasmic cry, as she came from Michael’s cock.
And Chloe tried to pretend that she wasn’t imagining what fucking her step-father would feel like.
Two days later, it was time for another choice on the ‘Daughter Tuning’ app.
During that time, Chloe had been surprisingly well behaved. She submitted to kissing her mother each morning, and apologised when her cunt was wet. And she was even polite to Michael.
The reason became clear on the morning of the next decision.
“Please, let me out of this,” she begged Michael quietly when the two of them were alone. “Please. No more demeaning choices. Just… let me be a normal teenager, and I’ll be good. I promise.”
He laughed, and stroked her hair affectionately – which she let him do, although she clearly hated it.
“I almost believe you, Chloe,” he said. “Almost. But I think you’ve been a spoiled little brat for too long, and I don’t think you’ve really learned to kick those habits yet. So I appreciate your good behaviour, but we’re going to keep tuning you for a little while yet, I think.”
Her face twisted. “Fuck you,” she spat, and stormed off.
“That’s exactly what I mean, Chloe,” he called after her.
When it came, the choice on the app was unexpected.
“BONDING RITUAL WITH DADDY?” it asked, and then offered two options. “DADDY-DAUGHTER DAY” was the first – with the additional text “Games, cuddles, laughter”. And the second was “BEDTIME RITUAL”, with the additional text “Set bedtime, story, goodnight kiss.”
Michael quite liked the sound of “daddy-daughter day” – but unfortunately Sarah saw the choice before he could lock in his preference.
“I like the sound of a bedtime ritual,” she said. “Mostly because of that ‘set bedtime’. Imagine if Chloe went to bed at 9 pm every night! No late nights with friends, no hearing her playing her music at all hours. Let’s choose that one.”
Michael thought about talking her out of it – but there would always be more choices. He could give this one to Sarah.
And as it turned out, the “bedtime ritual” was actually a lot of fun.
Because at her last session of hypnosis with Dr Martin, Chloe had been programmed to sexualise every decision her parents made for her through the app – a little secret between Michael and Chloe, that Chloe’s mother didn’t yet know about.
At ten minutes to 9 pm that night, Chloe came to where her mother and soon-to-be-stepfather were sitting on the lounge, watching television. Her face was bright red, because she was about to say something she really didn’t want to say.
“Daddy?” she said in a small voice. “Could you put me to bed?”
Michael smiled broadly. “Of course, honey,” he said. He nodded to Sarah. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
Sarah was delighted by this display of submission and paternal affection from her daughter, and smiled back. “Of course.”
He followed Chloe to her bedroom, and once they were inside, he closed the door.
“Okay, honey,” he said. “Time to undress for bed.”
Her face went red. “Fuck you,” she spat.
“It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, you little slut,” said Michael calmly.
She gave him the middle finger.
He wasn’t angry. Honestly, he liked these little confrontations, because it was such a pleasure to win them. He slapped her across the face, and then slapped her again, and then grabbed her by the hair and slapped her tits with his free hand, once, twice, three times – hard – until finally she moaned and said, “Stop! Stop! I’ll do it!”
“Good girl,” said Michael – and then watched as Chloe blushingly stripped off her shirt, then her skirt – and finally her bra and panties, until she was standing in front of him nude. She moved to climb into her bed – and cover herself with the blankets – but he grabbed her hair to stop her, and took an extra moment to stare at her naked flesh as she squirmed and tried to pull away.
“Now get changed into your nightwear,” he told her. “I bought you some. It’s over there on the nightstand.”
There was indeed a small pink box on her nightstand. Chloe regarded it with suspicion as she opened it. Inside was a babydoll negligee made of ridiculously sheer material – her tits would be visible through the fabric. There was also a pair of lacy panties – but the crotch had been crudely cut out with scissors.
“What the fuck is this?” asked Chloe.
“That’s what you wear to bed now,” said Michael. “You can wear that, or I can call your mother in to give you a pussy spanking and then you can go naked, but you won’t be allowed to wear anything else until you kiss your mother good morning each day. Oh, and if anyone asks, it was you who damaged the panties, because you’re a slut, and really you should get a spanking for damaging such an expensive present I bought you.”
“I hate you so much,” whispered Chloe, the suggestion of tears in her eyes. But she put on the demeaning outfit, and then Michael allowed her to climb into her bed.
There was a pause – and the Chloe’s hypnosis compelled her to ask for the next part of her bedtime ritual.
“Can you read me a story, daddy?” she said, in a choked voice.
“Sure, honey,” smiled MIchael. “What kind of story?”
There was only one answer. She had to sexualise it. “A slutty story,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “You’re such a little whore.” He hadn’t actually expected this, because he’d forgotten about her sexualisation compulsion, but he liked it. He sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed, and then took out his phone and brought up one of his favourite erotic stories – a tale about a brat who cockteased her stepfather, until her stepfather raped her.
“I’ll have to read it quietly so your mother won’t hear,” he told Chloe. “You’ll need to come close.”
She shifted in bed until her head was nearly resting on his thigh, and looked up at him with big, vulnerable eyes.
“Good girl,” he said – and then began to read her the story. Except he changed the name of the girl in the story to “Chloe”.
The story was one of hardcore rape and degradation. The girl ended up getting used and abused in a variety of ways. Chloe blushed to every word – but she listened attentively, like a good girl. And after a while she started to wiggle suspiciously, and her face became even redder – and Michael realised that she was fingering her pussy under the blankets, masturbating as her surrogate father read to her.
He smiled. “It makes me hot too, sweetie,” he said – and reached into his own pants and took out his cock. It was hard, and twitched a little as he freed it from his trousers. There was a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip. Chloe tried to pull away, but he reached out and held her hair, keeping her face near his thigh, until she relaxed. He wasn’t forcing her to touch his cock – but he *was* forcing her to look at it.
And she *did* look at it – and, after he resumed reading, she continued to masturbate, humiliated but apparently unable to help herself. As he neared the end of the story, she gave a short, choking gasp, and shuddered, and he knew that she had orgasmed.
And when the story was finished, she started to cry. No sounds, just tears in her eyes. Because she knew what she was about to do, and she didn’t want to do it, and she knew it would humiliate her – and yet at the same time, she *did* want to do, and in any case couldn’t stop herself.
“Thank you for the story, daddy,” she whispered. “Can I give you a kiss goodnight?”
“Of course you can, honey,” said Michael smiling. He made no move to bring his face closer to hers.
And he didn’t need to. Because Chloe rose up in her bed – the tears running prettily down her cheeks – and leaned over, and placed her lips on the tip of his cock. Her tongue ran over his glans, licking up the pre-cum. His whole cock twitched, and it was all that Michael could do not to force his stepdaughter’s face down on his cock and just facefuck her until he orgasmed.
And then it was over. She pulled away – the taste of his pre-cum filling her thoughts – and *now* he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Is there anything you want to confess to daddy?”
She was compelled to be honest about her sexuality. “I masturbated twice before bedtime today,” she whispered. “And the first time I orgasmed while imagining you raping me. And the second time I was thinking about mom kissing me and fingering my pussy.” And now she did start to cry out loud – quiet, choking sobs, that she tried to muffle with her pillow. “I’m such a slut,” she whispered. “I’m such a slut. I’m such a slut. I’m such a stupid slut.”
“I know, honey,” said Michael. “You can’t help it. That’s just how you are.” And he turned her face towards him, and kissed her gently on the lips. “Sleep well tonight, honey,” he told her. “You can kiss your mother in the morning – and then tomorrow night we’ll do this again, with a brand new story.”
And he headed back to the lounge room. Tonight he would fuck his soon-to-be-wife while fantasising about his stepdaughter. And tomorrow would be a whole new day.
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