Chapters (so far):
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen
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Ethan was ready to move forward on the next part of his plan to rape his aunt – but first, he had something new to show his mother.
“An A+ in debate,” he said, putting the teacher’s documentation down on the dinner table, as his mother served dinner.
Melissa looked at it guardedly. She knew this was not going to go anywhere that she liked. “Well done,” she said, cautiously. While recent events may have led to her to become her son’s abused, humiliated fuckslave, she was at least grateful that his school grades were improving.
“So that’s another wish,” said Ethan, grinning.
“Debate’s not a real subject, though,” protested Melissa. “It’s an extracurricular activity. And I’m glad you’re taking it, but…”
“An A+ is an A+, bitch,” said Ethan. “The topic of the debate was ‘are women more intelligent than pigs’, and I was in the ‘no’ camp, and we destroyed the opposition. The teacher said I was the star debater, and I asked him if he could express that in the form of a letter grade, and so here we are – A+.”
Melissa pursed her lips, and sat, having placed the last of the food on the table. “So… what is your wish?” she asked.
“Well, honestly I’m getting tired of you mouthing off, mom,” said Ethan. “You’re always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, and frankly it’s tedious. I don’t want that anymore.”
He looked at her. “I thought about just having you go around in a ball gag all the time, but then I figured I’d forever have to take it out of your mouth to find out what you were whining about. So I’ve got another solution.”
He passed her another piece of paper.
“From now on, these are the only topics you talk about, ever,” he said. “It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. You turn the conversation to one of these topics. If I start getting bored of them, I might add more, but this should be a good start.”
Melissa looked at the paper, and made an unhappy face.
It read:
“I ENJOY BEING RAPED, OBJECTIFIED AND SEXUALLY HARASSED.
I WORSHIP MY SON’S DICK.
WHY I DESERVE TO HAVE MY TITS HURT.
ALL WOMEN ARE STUPID SLUTS.
HUMILIATING SECRETS ABOUT ME OR ANOTHER WOMEN.
FUN WAYS TO EMBARRASS OR ABUSE ME.
HOW I WANT TO RAPE MY SISTER, AND WHY SHE DESERVES RAPE.
WHY WOMEN ARE INFERIOR TO MEN.
HOW TO BETTER PLEASE MY SON AND OTHER MEN.
MY MASTURBATION HABITS.
REASONS WHY I’M STUPID.
MY GRATITUDE TO MEN FOR TREATING ME AS I DESERVE.”
“Ethan…” Melissa began.
“Whatever you’re about to say had better be one of those topics of conversation, bitch,” said Ethan. “Go on, give one a try.”
Melissa stared at the list, blushing, and was silent for a long moment. She tried to decide on something to talk about. They were all awful.
Finally, she said, quietly, “I really like your cock, Ethan. It felt good inside me when you were raping me. Thank you for letting me experience that.”
Ethan beamed. “Good bitch,” he said. “Now, talk to me about Aunt Kay.”
Melissa blushed deeper. “I… I want to rape her. I want to lick my sister’s pussy. I want to force her to lick mine.”
“That’s right,” said Ethan. “And don’t worry, we’re going to make that happen.”
He fell silent for a few minutes, and took the chance to eat some of the dinner his mother had prepared for him. Then, after a while, he spoke again.
“Do you remember when Aunt Kay came over, and you photographed her cunt without her consent and then masturbated to it?” he asked.
Of course she remembered. And although what Ethan was saying was literally true, it had been his idea. He had forced her to do it… hadn’t he?
In any case, she nodded.
“Well, do you remember how I downloaded the contents of your bitch sister’s phone while she was out of the room?” asked Ethan.
Melissa did.
“I’ve been looking through the results,” he said, “and I hit the jackpot.”
He grinned.
“Your sister has been fucking one of her female students,” he said. “Some bitch named Gabrielle. The messages between them are pretty explicit. Your sister’s been giving her all As – presumably in exchange for all the pussy licking.”
Melissa grimaced. She didn’t want to believe Kay could be so foolish and slutty – but she didn’t disbelieve Ethan either.
“There are even some nude photos of this Gabrielle,” said Ethan. “She’s a pretty hot-looking blonde bitch. And here’s what’s even better – this girl’s parents are hardcore Christians, and Gabrielle isn’t out of the closet. She’s worried that if they found out, they’d stop paying her tuition, and she’d have to drop out of her studies.”
Melissa didn’t quite understand what Ethan was getting at.
So he explained it to her.
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The next day, Melissa found herself driving to the university where her sister taught. It was a couple of hours’ drive away – one of many reasons that she hadn’t stayed more closely in touch with Kay – but not so far that Melissa wasn’t able to make the trip.
Ethen called her mobile as she was driving. Melissa set it to hands-free.
“What’s up, sir?” she asked.
“Just calling to chat,” said Ethan’s voice from the speaker. “How’s the drive going?”
Melissa winced. Ethan was forcing her to practice her new conversational rule. She tried to remember the topics she was allowed to talk about.
“I’m really looking forward to raping my sister,” she said, feeling guilty that it wasn’t even a lie.
“How do you think you’ll do it?” asked Ethan.
“I think… I’ll strip her naked, and then force her face against my pussy,” said Melissa. Her face was bright red, and she was aware that her cunt was getting wet. She couldn’t believe she was saying such things at all – let alone to her son – and yet she knew that if she didn’t follow her son’s rules, he would make her regret it. Either he would find something even more humiliating for her to do, or he would hurt her, or rape her ass. She had to do what he said.
“Go on,” said Ethan. “What next?”
“I want to feel her push her tongue right up inside me,” said Melissa. “And then suck my clit. I want to hump her face as if she’s not even a person, just an object.”
She was definitely wet now. She was worried she was soaking her panties.
“God, you’re such a slut, mom,” laughed Ethan. “What kind of disgusting whore wants to rape her own sister?”
Melissa felt like she might cry. It was true. Why was she like this? Why had she allowed first Ethan’s father, and now Ethan himself, to treat her this way, and bring out these disgusting fetishes?
“Well, I have to run,” said Ethan. “Other things to do. Why don’t you pull in at the next service station and refuel, and buy a porn magazine to give me when you get home? Remember to stick to your list of conversation topics.”
And he hung up, without waiting for a response.
Melissa knew that Ethan’s idea about the service station was more than just a suggestion, so she pulled over at the next one she saw. Before she got out of the car she took a moment to review her list of conversation topics – she had photographed Ethan’s piece of paper for reference – and thought about what she was going to say.
Then she got out, refuelled the car, and walked into the station itself, where she picked up a bottle of water and a magazine entitled “Melons Monthly”.
The man behind the counter was a burly man with a short black beard. He looked at the magazine as Melissa placed it on the counter, and then back at Melissa.
“She’s a pretty hot one,” he said, referring to the big-titted woman on the magazine cover. “Is she your type?”
Melissa blushed. “Yes,” she said, in a too-quiet voice. “I like to look at sluts like her when I masturbate.”
The man laughed. “That’s an honest enough answer! Well, I’ll give you honesty in return.” He stared at her chest. “I like to look at sluts like *you* when I masturbate.”
“Thank you,” said Melissa awkwardly. “I like it when men treat me like an object. It… makes me wet. I’m… I’m just a stupid slut, like all women.”
“I tell you what,” said the man. “Give me a look at those tits, and your fuel and purchases are free.”
Melissa hesitated. She didn’t want to show this man her tits. But she somehow felt it was what Ethan would want her to do, and he would be angry if she didn’t. And fuel wasn’t cheap these days – it could save her a lot of money. And she had basically just flirted with this man. Would he be angry if she turned him down now?
“All right,” she said, in a nervous voice, and pulled her large tits out of her bra, exposing them to his view.
He stared with lust. “Fuck, those are some good udders,” he said. “You’re even sluttier than the bitch in the magazine.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Melissa, blushing. She continued to display her tits for him. She could probably have put them away now, but it didn’t occur to her that she could cover herself before receiving the man’s permission to do so.
“Do you like just showing off your fuckbags to men like this?” asked the man.
Melissa blushed deeper. Her answer had to come from her conversation topics.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s all women are really good for.”
The man laughed again, and then shook his head. “Okay, a deal’s a deal. You can put your sex-balloons away. The fuel and purchases are on me. Thanks for the fun, lady.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Melissa. She stuffed her tits back into her top, and scurried away with her purchases.
She drove out from the service station – but less than five kilometres down the road, she found herself pulling over into a semi-secluded rest stop. She frantically pulled her panties down from beneath her skirt, kicking them off her feet to fall into the footwell, and then she pulled her tits back out of her bra. She flipped open the magazine she had bought, and stared at the naked big-titted bimbos inside. And then she began to frantically masturbate.
Objectifying herself for the service station attendant’s pleasure had been grossly demeaning – and yet it had made her so wet she could barely think. And saying the things she had said – about masturbating, about enjoying her objectification, about women only being good for displaying their tits – had been fucked up… and yet it felt like admitting a truth she had always hidden. It felt like giving up a struggle she had been fighting for too many years, and accepting a kind of blissful surrender.
It had felt good.
She felt tears run down her face as she masturbated. What was wrong with her? What was WRONG with her?
She wasn’t normal. Normal women didn’t let their sons rape them. Their sons didn’t *want* to rape them. She was obviously such a disgusting slut that she had given her own son a kink for raping her. Maybe she had wanted this, deep down.
She stared at the brainless fuckdolls in the magazine, and she pictured herself there, displaying her tits and cunt to the world, becoming nothing but idle wank-fodder for anonymous men.
“It’s all women are really good for,” she heard herself mutter again.
And suddenly she was cumming, right there in her car, by the side of the road.
“Thank you, sir,” she breathed as she orgasmed, and she knew Ethan couldn’t hear her, but she knew that it was his abuse of her that had brought her this pleasure right now, and she was grateful.
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