This is one of 22 stories collected in my e-book They Say It’s Your Birthday – Stories of Celebration and Degradation, available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site. (Click here to view in store.)
When Amanda married Barry at the young age of 18, it had required a readjustment of her worldview.
Barry had had to teach her to call her gender “sluts” instead of “women”. He’d taught her by whipping her tits and cunt with his leather belt, which had made her scream and writhe, but he’d always, always masturbated or fucked her afterwards, never satisfied until he made her cum, and soon she began to learn that this discipline and re-education brought pleasure.
Then he taught her that the place of sluts was in the kitchen and the bedroom, and that sluts didn’t need to wear clothes around the house. After that, he’d taught her to make herself sexually available to his friends.
“Sluts are lower than men,” he told her. “Sluts are lower than *all* men.” After a while – and a lot of use of the belt on her tits and cunt – she internalised this message. She lost a lot of her former friends when she tried to explain to them about sluts and men. The few that stayed friends with her, and agreed that sluts were lower than men, became regular visitors to the house, and Barry would make Amanda lez off with them for his entertainment, before fucking Amanda’s friends and making her watch.
Amanda fell pregnant in her first year of marriage, and became a mother at 19. Barry named her son Jason, and she did a good job of raising him, even if she felt strange about being naked around the house constantly.
However, on Jason’s 18th birthday, she learned she still needed some changes to her worldview. She asked Jason to clean his room, and Jason said no. A moment later, she felt Barry’s hand on her throat, forcing her down on the couch, and his other hand spreading her legs.
“Go get my belt, Jason,” he growled, and Jason ran to grab it. When her son returned, Barry said, “You seem to have forgotten, whore, that sluts are lower than men – than *all* men. Jason’s a man now, and that means you’re his slave as much as you are mine.”
“What?” wailed Amanda. “No, but…”
“Jason, come over and have your first try at whipping your mother’s tits and cunt. You’ll have to do this whenever she’s disobedient.”
“Yes, dad,” said Jason eagerly, and a moment later she heard the swish of the belt and the agonizing crack of it impacting her large tits. She squealed. She squealed again a moment later when he whipped her a second time.
“Good boy,” said Barry approvingly. “Twenty each on her udders, and then twenty for her fuckhole, I think. And when you’re done, get your cock out and have your first turn at raping your mother. It *is* your birthday, after all.”
“Thanks, dad,” said Jason. He looked down at his mother. “Hold still, you slut. If I miss your fuckbags or your cunt, I’ll swing twice as hard on the next one.” He took out his cock, aimed it at her face, and began masturbating with one hand, as he whipped the belt into her breasts with the other.
“I don’t want to hear you calling him Jason anymore,” said Barry. “You call him master. Now, thank him.”
“Thank you, master,” said Amanda, realising what a dumb slut she had been for thinking she was in charge of Jason just because she was his mother. And, showing initiative, she leaned up and kissed the tip of her son’s cock.
“Good bitch,” said Jason. “Fuck, dad, can I finish whipping her after I rape her? I’m not sure I can last…”
“Whichever order you like,” said Barry approvingly, and watched as his son grabbed Amanda, lifted and flipped her over to be tits-down on the couch, and then sunk his cock into Amanda’s wet pussy (Barry having conditioned her well to get aroused from tit and cunt pain).
“Thank you, master,” breathed Amanda again, and began to eagerly and obediently buck her hips against her own son’s cock….
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