Story: Brea Comes Home From College, Part 15

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen

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It took Claire five days to come to Michael with the story of her rape, and Michael had begun to worry that she was never going to do it.

Admittedly, it would be fun to release the video of Claire’s humiliating violation to the world, and he saw no reason that he couldn’t keep raping her in her sleep, and possibly keep using a mask to rape her while she was awake – with Brea’s help, of course – but he really wanted the experience of her coming to him and *begging* him to retraumatise her.

On the fourth day he arranged for a copy of the rape on USB to turn up in the mailbox at her house, not really caring whether Claire found it first, or whether her father got to enjoy the pornographic video of his daughter. As it turned out, it was Claire who checked the mail and discovered the small black thumb drive, and that was enough to panic her into finally complying with the orders she had been given at her rape.

Even then, it still took Brea’s help. 

Ever since Claire had been forced to lez off with Brea at the campsite, the relationship between the two girls had risen to a new level. Brea was deliberately misinterpreting the events that had happened on the night of Claire’s rape, and was referring casually to Claire as her “girlfriend”. Their regular study dates now included furtive sessions of lesbian sex, in which Brea would molest and exploit the blushing blonde teen while Claire held still and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.

When Claire attempted to explain that they weren’t girlfriends, and that she wasn’t a lesbian, Brea would raise her voice and say things like, “Then why did you beg me to lick your cunt that night in the woods?” and “Oh, you’ll drink a rapist’s piss, but you won’t even kiss your girlfriend?”, and Claire would go wide-eyed and go along with whatever Brea wanted just to stop anyone from overhearing the humiliating things Brea was saying.

On the evening of the fifth day, Claire and Brea had been spending time alone in Brea’s room, when Brea came to knock on Michael’s door. He opened it to find her wearing nothing but a skimpy negligee, her face wet with what he realised were Claire’s cunt juices.

“It’s time,” she said, and then kissed her brother and rubbed his cock – which was instantly erect. Michael followed her back to her room.

Brea opened the bedroom door to reveal Claire completely naked, blushing, and visually sexually aroused. 

“Claire has something to tell you, Michael,” said Brea. “I’ll just leave you two alone.” She ushered him into the room, and closed the door with Michael inside and her outside. He guessed that Brea would now go to find their father or mother to fuck – but Michael’s mind was fully occupied by the naked, beautiful, humiliated girl in front of him.

“Oh my God, Claire,” said Michael, in feigned surprise. “You’re fucking my *sister*? I didn’t know you were a lesbian. God, have you been lezzing off like a slut in here the whole night? There’s nothing wrong with that – I just didn’t know you were a cunt-licker!”

Claire looked like she’d been slapped, and said, “No! I’m not a lesbian…”

“Oh, you’re bisexual?” said Michael. “That’s fine too. But what did you want to tell me?”

She blushed bright red, and said, “I have to tell you something. But… I’m only allowed to tell you in a certain way.”

“What?” asked Michael. “Like, in code?”

Her blush was even deeper. “No,” she said. She got up from the bed, in all her naked splendour, and came over to him. Her hand dipped to his waist, and she began to unbuckle his pants.

He pulled away, sharply. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

“I need…” Claire began, and paused to take a deep breath. “I’m only allowed to tell you if… if your… your cock is inside me.”

He feigned disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “What kind of slutty nonsense is this?” His face softened. “If you’re into me, you know you could just ask me out, Claire.”

She looked like she might cry. It was hot. “No,” she protested. “I can’t – I mean, I have to – please. Please, just let me – I just need your cock in me.”

“You want to fuck me?” asked Michael.

“No!” wailed Claire. “I just have to put your… your thing inside me, so I can tell you what I have to tell you.”

“This is so weird,” said Michael. “If this is just some slutty stunt, I’m going to tell everyone I know about it.”

“No!” wailed Claire again. “It’s not, I swear. I promise. Please, just let me do it.”

“Fine,” said Michael. “But no condom. I hate those things. So you’d better not give me any diseases. And I’m not fucking you, okay? You say you just want my cock inside you – that’s all you’re getting.”

“Okay,” agreed Claire.

Michael undid his pants, let them fall to his ankles, and stepped out of them – and did the same with his underpants. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, and motioned for Chloe to join him.

Shyly, she moved to straddle his lap, facing him. She reached down to part her pussy lips, and his cock – ragingly erect – slid into her fucktunnel. It was sopping wet – Brea had prepared Claire for him with skill and dedication. Claire gave an involuntary slutty moan as his dick penetrated her.

Michael desperately wanted to now start bouncing Claire on his dick, until he could ejaculate into her again, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his cock resting in her warm snatch, but not moving, except for the occasional twitch. He could immediately tell from her face that, to her humiliation, this was as frustrating for her as it was for him.

“Now, what is it?” he asked her. Her face was inches from his, her expression scared and vulnerable and embarrassed, and he wanted to kiss her badly.

“Last weekend…” Claire began, then took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Michael enjoyed the feeling of her whole body trembling on his cock, her beautiful breasts pressing against his chest, her face inches from his.

Michael waited.

“Last weekend, I was raped,” Claire said finally. She searched his face for hints of shock – and Michael did make an effort to look surprised – and traces of compassion – of which there were none.

Slowly, deliberately, Michael flexed his cock inside her, making sure she was aware he was aroused by this confession.

“The man who raped me… he said I have to do this,” she said. “He said I couldn’t tell anyone, except your sister and you, and I could only tell you if your cock was inside me. I’m not allowed to go to the police… but you…”

Michael took a deep breath, and flexed his cock again. “It sounds like you’ve had a really tough experience,” he told her. He reached up and pushed his left hand into the hair on the back of her head, caressing her scalp, pulling her closer to him. His right hand moved to cup her breast, his thumb stroking back and forth across her erect nipple. “Tell me all about it.”

She began to tell him the story of her rape, in a halting, confused voice. She was clearly still traumatised by what had happened to her in the woods – and yet her pussy was wet, with a cock in it, and that felt good. And Michael’s hand in her hair felt good, and his thumb on her nipple was just making her more aroused…

Michael stopped her from time to time to ask questions, aiming to heighten her humiliation. Why had she allowed Brea to talk her into being naked in the woods? Did she like being nude in public? Did she often wander around with her tits and cunt bare like a slut? (Clearly she did, because look at her right now.)

“Don’t you think you were kind of inviting rape by wandering around naked like that?” he asked her. “Don’t you think that was tempting people? It sounds like it was kind of your fault you were raped. Don’t you think it’s your own fault?”

“No…” protested Claire weakly, and then gasped as Michael’s hand gripped her hair tightly, and his cock flexed inside her again. 

Entirely without realising she was doing it, she bounced a little on Michael’s cock, and it was all Michael could do to avoid grabbing her to make her do it again.

“It’s okay, Claire,” Michael said. “I understand. It’s embarrassing that you got yourself raped like that. I know your conscious mind didn’t mean to make it happen, even if your subconscious probably wanted it. I won’t tell anyone. Just admit that it was your fault, and then keep telling me what happened.”

“But it…” Claire objected, and then fell silent again as Michael softly squeezed her nipple. She bounced on his cock again in response.

“It was your fault, wasn’t it, Claire?” asked Michael.

Claire scanned his face, confused, not knowing what to say. She didn’t think it was her fault – was it? But she *had* been naked in public. She had known it was slutty – or at least, she thought she had known. Brea had made it sound reasonable. And now Michael was acting like it was good for her to admit it was her own fault, like it would help her. And his cock felt so good inside her…

“Yes,” she whispered.

“It was your fault you were raped?” prompted Michael.

“It was my fault I was raped,” said Claire, with a catch in her voice that suggested she might cry.

“Good girl,” said Michael – and used his grip on her hair to pull her face towards his own. Their lips met, and Michael gave her a soft, long, tender kiss.

Claire moaned, and bounced on his cock twice more. Her whole body was shivering with humiliation and desire.

She continued describing how she had been raped. She talked about meeting the masked man in the woods, and how he had promised he would only rape her if her cunt was wet – but her cunt *had* been wet.

Michael focused on that with questions. How wet? Why had she been wet? Did it make her wet to cocktease men into raping her? And with every question, Claire came to see Michael as more correct. She *had* invited her rape. Normal girls didn’t wander around naked in the woods with a wet cunt. If only she hadn’t been so sluttily wet, she wouldn’t have been raped. It was her own fault.

Michael began to pull Claire close for kisses between her humiliated confessions. Every time he did, he pulled her up slightly, so that when the kiss was over she sank back down on his cock, causing her to make a little gasp. And before long, she began to do it by herself, slowly and rhythmically bouncing on his cock, seemingly unaware of what she was even doing.

And she told him how her rapist – who she still didn’t know had been Michael – had told her to chant “Cum in me, breed me, rape me, make me pregnant”.

“How did that go?” asked Michael.

Claire blushed. “Cum in me, breed me, rape me, make me pregnant,” she chanted. She felt his cock flex in her pussy, and blushed deeper – although she still didn’t seem to be aware she was actively fucking him now. “Cum in me, breed me, rape me, make me pregnant. Cum in me, breed me, rape me…”

And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, Claire’s whole body shuddered. She was cumming – already – from begging Michael to rape her. Her eyes went wide with humiliation. She tried to pull herself off his cock, to stop it from happening, but he was still holding her hair, and in any case her muscles weren’t really working properly as her body spasmed through the pleasure of orgasm.

“Slut,” whispered Michael, as Claire orgasmed. “No wonder you were raped. Walking around naked, and begging this poor man to rape you and breed you. Did you cum on your rapist’s cock too, slut?”

Claire was crying. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What happened next?” asked Michael.

“He… he came inside me,” said Claire. “Because I couldn’t get the chant right. I kept fucking it up. I was so stupid…”

“God,” said Michael. “This poor man might have put a *baby* in you, because you were such a slut. He might end up a father, just because you couldn’t control yourself.” Claire had finished cumming, but Michael used his grip on her head to encourage her to keep bouncing on his cock, and she was so confused and ashamed that she cooperated.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed again. “I don’t – I don’t know why -”

“You can’t apologise to him,” said Michael. “You don’t even know who he is. But I can slap you, if you want. And hurt your tits. Do you want that, Claire?”

She looked at him in surprise. Of course she didn’t want to be slapped. But she felt so ashamed and humiliated. Michael was right. Everything had happened because of her – because *she* was a stupid slut.

“I don’t know…” she whimpered.

“Is that at least the worst thing you did, forcing him to cum inside you?” asked Michael. “You didn’t do anything even sluttier, did you?”

Claire went bright red. Because of course she had. 

“I… “ She trailed off, not knowing how to say it. 

“You what?” asked Michael. “God, what could be even sluttier than begging him to breed you?”

Tears were running down her cheeks. “He made me… he forced me…”

“That doesn’t sound right, Claire,” said Michael. “You seduced him into fucking you, and then suddenly he’s *making* you do something? That can’t be correct. Whatever it is, you must have forced *him*, surely? What did you make him do, Claire? You can tell me.”

“He… he pissed in my mouth,” wailed Claire. “He used me as a toilet, and I swallowed it.”

Michael feigned disgust. “Oh fuck,” he spat. “That’s gross, Claire. What kind of revolting slut *are* you?”

“I didn’t want to!” Claire protested.

“Didn’t you?” Michael asked. “Were you struggling when he pissed in your mouth?”

“No,” Claire admitted.

“Did you spit it out?” he asked.

“No,” Claire sobbed. “I swallowed it.”

“And if you weren’t struggling, what were you doing with your hands when he pissed in your mouth?” asked Michael.

It took her a moment to compose herself enough to answer, as she cried, and bounced on Michael’s cock, and when she did, it was in a small, broken voice – the voice of someone who had realised that it *was* her fault, that *she* was the slut.

“I was masturbating,” she whispered. “And pushing his cum deeper into my pussy.”

Michael leaned in and kissed her again. When he broke the kiss, he said, “You know you’re raping me right now, Claire. I told you I didn’t want to fuck you, but you’ve been bouncing on my dick like a whore this whole time. You can’t even stop pleasuring your cunt when you’re describing being raped.”

She went pale, and tried to climb off his cock again, but he held her down.

“What, are you going to tease me all this way and then not finish it?” he asked her. “That would be even more bitchy than continuing. Just keep bouncing. But I think you really do need to be slapped, don’t you, Claire?”

She made an incoherent noise of confused protest.

“Don’t you think you deserve to be slapped, Claire?” he asked for. “For forcing this poor man to do something as disgusting as pissing in your mouth?”

“Yes,” she whispered, broken.

“Ask me,” he told her.

“Please,” she begged. “Slap me.”

And so he did. Hard, across her face, still bouncing her on his cock.

“Again,” he told her.

“Slap me,” she whispered.

He hit her again.

“Keep asking, until I’m done,” he told her.

“Slap me, slap me, slap me,” she sobbed, and on each one he struck her in the face. She would bruise, but that would be her problem to explain. He struck her five times, fast – and then on the sixth time she said, “Slap me,” he replied, “No.” And he spat in her face.

The spit made her gasp more than the slaps had, but he gave her no time to process.

“Chant for me, like you did for your rapist,” he told her. “And make sure you get it right this time.”

“Cum in me, breed me, rape me, make me pregnant,” chanted Claire through her sobs. “Cum in me, breed me, rape me, make me pregnant,”

With every repetition of the sequence, Michael slapped at Claire’s tits, making her squeal – but to Claire’s immense humiliation, she reached a second orgasm before Michael found his own, cumming on Michael’s cock from the stimulation and the pain and the humiliation. 

And moments later, Michael was cumming too, filling Claire’s fertile womb with his sperm.

When it was done, and they were pressed together, gasping, Michael said, “Apologise to me.”

He didn’t even have to tell her why. “I’m sorry,” Claire breathed. “I’m sorry for being a slut. I’m sorry for making you fuck me. I’m sorry I got myself raped.”

“If you were really sorry, you’d offer to let me slap you and rape you again tomorrow,” said Michael.

Claire was so confused she didn’t even object to the nonsensical statement. “I’m sorry,” she babbled. “I’m sorry. You can slap me and rape me again tomorrow. I deserve it.”

“Good girl,” said Michael. He didn’t bother to accept her apology. Claire would never be able to apologise enough to escape the shame and guilt he would trap her in. “Now, clean up the mess you made by licking my cock clean.” He pushed her off him, and used his grip on her hair to guide her face towards his dick.

Claire obediently began to lick and suck the cum and cunt juices from his cock without much further prompting. Once she had his whole cock in her mouth, he tightened his grip on her, and held her face close against his groin so that she couldn’t escape.

“I think there’s one more thing you deserve, Claire,” he told her. “Be a good girl and swallow.”

She did struggle a little, when he started to piss – but after everything he had done to her, she now understood that this was exactly what she deserved, and so she soon began to act like a good girl, relaxing and swallowing his urine, just as Brea had taught him that all good women should.

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