Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen
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Claire came to visit again the next day, as she had promised. She arrived with a large bag, and went straight to Brea’s room.
Michael gave them some time alone together, and then entered.
Brea and Claire were both naked. Claire had the flushed look that suggested Brea had spent some time licking her pussy but not allowed her to orgasm. They had the contents of Claire’s bag spread out in front of them – which turned out be a huge number of articles of clothing.
Claire immediately tried to cover her tits when Michael walked in, but Brea slapped her hands away in an irritated way.
“Jesus, Claire, it’s just my brother,” she said. “You raped him yesterday remember, and then begged him to slap you, and then you drank his piss because you’re such a colossal slut? And you’re going to beg him to do it again today?”
Claire went bright red at the reminder of her actions yesterday – and at Brea’s reinforcement of the idea that all of Claire’s degradation was Claire’s idea, and Claire’s fault.
“What are you doing?” asked Brian, his eyes torn between staring at Claire’s naked flesh, and making sense of the clothes sprawled in front of her.
“I told Claire to bring me all of her clothes, so we could do a fashion audit on her,” said Brea. She sighed. “And I’m sorry, Claire – almost all of it is going to have to go. It’s just too prudish. All these panties and bras are no good, for starters. We’ll leave you your school uniform, and a couple of these tiny skirts from when you were 14, and some of these tops that are a little bit tight and see-through, but I’m going to do you a favour and throw the rest out.”
She began to scoop most of the clothes back into the bag, and Claire looked panicked.
“But what will I wear?” she asked. “How am I going to explain to my parents where my clothes went?”
“Oh, I’m sure your daddy will be happy to buy you new clothes,” said Brea. “Particularly if you come to him entirely naked, and wrap your arms around him, and press your tits against him, and whisper in your ear that you have *nothing* to wear, and you need him to take you shopping for some slutty little new outfits.”
“I can’t do that!” gasped Claire. “He’s my father!”
“As if you haven’t been cockteasing him since you turned 18, Claire,” scoffed Brea. “Remember that video I showed you, where he confessed how much he wanted to rape his daughter, while I was sucking his cock? Where do you think he got those fantasies from? Normal fathers don’t want to rape their daughter – you must have cockteased him pretty hard. Just… go a little further, and he’ll fix you up with a new set of sexy clothes to replace all this trash.”
Brea winked. “I’ll be checking in with your father next time I visit, and I want to hear you’ve been *very* persuasive – otherwise I might have to tell all your friends about how my girlfriend gets boys to rape her…”
Claire looked paralysed with fright and humiliation, her mouth hanging open.
Brea stood up, lifting the bag of clothes with her. “I’ll go take these to the trash now,” she said. “Claire, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask Michael?” Then she left the room.
Claire didn’t look at Michael. She was shy – or more than shy. Humiliated. Degraded.
“It’s alright, Claire,” said Michael, a note of feigned kindness in his voice. “You can ask me. I know you need it. I know Brea will tease you if you don’t. This can stay between us – if you ask me.”
She shook at the implication that it might *not* stay between them, if she didn’t ask. Or that Brea would punish her for not going through with what she had promised Michael yesterday.
“Would you… have sex with me?” she said, shyly.
Michael looked confused. “Have *sex* with you?” he asked. “That sounds like a *nice* thing. It’s not what you were talking about yesterday. Wasn’t the intention that you were going to atone for being such a cocktease? That you were going to be punished for tempting that man in the woods to rape you, and then for bouncing on my cock after you promised me you wouldn’t?”
She made a choked sob. There were tears in her eyes.
“Come on, Claire,” urged Michael. “You can say it. What did you ask for yesterday? What do you really want?”
There was a long silence. And then Claire spoke, in a small, broken, sexy voice.
“Would you please rape me, Michael?” she asked.
“And slap you?” Michael prompted.
“And slap me,” she whispered.
“Of course I would,” Michael said, his voice brimming with false empathy. “I should probably really hurt you, shouldn’t I? To make it as awful as possible, so you don’t just cum again like a slut? To make sure it really is a punishment?”
She made a strangled sound. She didn’t want that, at all. But what was the alternative? To say that she *did* want to cum from rape? To ask him to go easy, so she could enjoy it?
“I need an answer, Claire,” said Michael. “Use your words.”
“Yes, please,” Claire whispered. “Hurt me. Force me.”
“Good girl,” said Michael. He began to take off his clothes, stripping in front of Claire, until he was naked, his rock-hard cock bobbing inches from her face. “Make sure to struggle, so I know you’re not just having fun,” he told her.
Then he slapped her across the face, and reached down and grabbed one of her tits in a firm grip in each hand. He pulled, lifting her upwards by her breasts, forcing her to her feet, and then pulled on them, throwing her across the room onto Brea’s bed.
She landed on her back, tits up, and Michael immediately followed her, forcing her legs apart with his knees, and then kneeling between her spread legs, his left hand on her throat. He slapped her face again, then slapped her tits, twice.
“Tell me about how you seduced the man in the forest,” he told her. “Tell me again while I rape you.”
Claire was just shocked from the violence and the degradation, wide eyed, staring. Her body was bucking a little, making a token effort to escape, but it was hard to do anything when she was pinned to the bed by her neck.
He had to slap her again to get her to listen to what he was saying.
“Tell me how you forced the man in the woods to fuck you,” said Michael again.
In a halting voice, Claire began to re-tell the tale of her first rape, and as she did, Michael leaned down and slid his cock into her cunt, and began to fuck her. She was deliciously wet – Brea had done a good job of warming her up – and to Michael’s delight, despite all her degradation and shame, she seemed to become even more aroused as he penetrated her.
The poor girl had been a virgin until Brea came into her life – and now she was regularly experiencing two types of sex: being dominated by a woman into demeaning lesbian sex, and degrading and dehumanising rape from men. And Brea and Michael had ensured that every time Claire was violated, she orgasmed.
Michael hoped it was becoming formative for her, defining her sexuality for the rest of her life. He thought there was a good chance that even if he and his sister released her now, she would have humiliating rape fantasies for the rest of her life, and she would forever become aroused from being degraded and forced. And they had only begun to play with her.
He was pleased, too, by the way she framed the story of her rape. She was beginning to accept the way that Michael and Brea had re-contextualised her violation.
“I was walking around nude like a slut in the woods,” Claire gasped, “and a man saw me and couldn’t help but want to fuck me…”
Michael helped her focus down on her own guilt with questions as she went. When she didn’t answer fast enough, or gave the wrong answer, he slapped her face or tits again.
She could have escaped if she’d run faster, couldn’t she? But she hadn’t *wanted* to escape. Her cunt was wet to be raped, wasn’t it? And she orgasmed? And whose idea had it been to drink the man’s piss? It didn’t sound right that it was the *man’s* idea, after Claire had initiated everything else. It must have been Claire’s idea.
“Why did you want to drink his piss, Claire?” he asked her.
She moaned. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember. She had thought it was his idea – but Michael was right, that couldn’t be true. Why would she have asked for such a disgusting thing?
There was only one answer that made sense.
“Because I’m a slut,” she moaned
“God, you’re a disgusting whore,” Michael said, filling it with all the hate and contempt he could summon. And then, before she could react, he spat on her, and then put his left hand over her mouth, stopping her from speaking or breathing, and reached down between her legs with his right hand, and pinched her clitoris. Hard.
That was all it took. Claire began bucking wildly and moaning into his hand as she orgasmed. Michael immediately removed his hand from her mouth, and began slapping her across the face, again, and again, and again, until he felt his own orgasm coming. He gasped with delight as he ejaculated into Claire’s unprotected womb, and then fell forward, resting atop her limp body.
“You know,” he whispered as he lay there, “it doesn’t count as punishment if you *cum* from it, Claire. If you can’t control your sluttiness, you’re going to need to be hurt and violated even more for it to really count.”
Claire started to cry in response, humiliated into tears. Michael tenderly kissed the tears away, and when he moved his mouth near Claire’s, Claire surprised him by kissing him passionately in return.
“Are you falling in love with me, Claire?” he chuckled, when the kiss was over. He knew she wasn’t – it was a confused trauma response – but it would put the idea in her head. He thought he might be able to traumatise and gaslight her so much she thought she really *did* love him – and that would fulfill many of Michael’s secret fantasies.
“No,” she said, confused. “I mean… I don’t…”
“It’s all right,” said Michael, shushing her, and then he kissed her again. “You’re lucky, you know,” he told her. “I know that you’re a lesbian slut who cockteases men into raping her and then drinks their piss,” he said, “and I *still* like you. Most people would never want to look at you again, because of how whorish and disgusting you are, but I just want to kiss you and help you to make sense of this slutty fuckdoll that we both know you are.”
“Thank you,” she said – and there was a note of genuine, confused gratitude in her voice.
“You know you’re prettier when you’re crying, Claire?” he said. “It’s natural for men to want to make you cry, because of how beautiful and sexy you look when you’re crying.”
She sniffled, and kissed him again.
After a while, he climbed off her. His slaps had left light bruising on her face – nothing extreme, and in fact he thought it made her look even hotter, in a broken kind of way. He didn’t much worry about how she would explain it to her family. If there was any difficulty, Brea would just suck Claire’s father’s cock until he didn’t care.
He pulled on Claire’s hair, and guided her face down to his cock. “Be a good girl and clean up your mess,” he told her, then forced his dick into her mouth. Claire suckled on it obediently, cleaning the mixed semen and cunt juices off it with her tongue. When she was done, he held her in place, and a moment later he began to piss into her mouth.
Claire made a moan of humiliation and protest, but she obediently began to swallow. It was important to Michael that this became part of her identity – not something she did (drink piss) but something she *was* (a toilet).
Brea walked in as Claire was swallowing the last of Michael’s piss. Claire was on all fours at this point to drink Michael’s urine, so Brea climbed up on the bed and slid between Claire’s legs, face up. She extended her tongue and began to lick her brother’s cum out of Claire’s pussy. Claire initially squirmed a bit, but Michael held her head down on his cock, and there was nowhere for Claire to go, so she had to allow Brea to lick her.
Brea skilfully brought the humiliated girl back to the edge of orgasm with her tongue, and then stood.
“I can’t believe you’ll drink the piss of my brother, and some random guy in the woods, but you’ve never offered to do it for your girlfriend,” she said, petulantly.
Michael let Claire rise from his cock. “I’m sorry,” she said, immediately.
“Well, show it,” said Brea. “I need to piss. Get over here and drink it. You can rub your pussy as you do.”
Claire, blushing, climbed off the bed, and went to kneel in front of Brea. She opened her mouth and pushed her lips against Brea’s cunt, and began to rub her pussy obediently.
Brea grabbed Claire’s hair so she couldn’t get away, and then began to piss. And that was how, only moments later, Claire was orgasming again, this time with a mouth full of urine.
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