Chapters (so far):
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen
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Melissa returned home to Ethan, steadfastly trying to avoid thinking about how she had just raped and blackmailed a younger woman for her son’s pleasure.
When she arrived home, she tried her key in the lock – and found to her alarm that it didn’t fit.
She banged on the door. “Ethan!” she said. “Let me in! My key’s not working!”
Ethan’s face appeared at the nearby window.
“Oh, I had the locks changed, mom,” he said. “I thought it was time for some changes around here. Why don’t you get undressed, and when you’re naked I’ll let you in?”
Melissa looked around in a panic. It was late afternoon, and there was nobody particularly to be seen, but a car could drive past at any moment, or a neighbour could emerge from their house.
“Ethan! Just let me in!” she called.
“When you’re naked,” said Ethan. “I’m going to cum on you anyway once you’re inside, so you may as well avoid getting your dress messy.”
Melissa wasn’t really wearing anything except for her sundress. She had worn no bra, and her panties were lying in the footwell of the car. But she still didn’t want to be naked, here, on the front lawn of her own house.
But Melissa also knew that her son was cruel, and stubborn, and that if she didn’t want to get undressed then she may as well just drive away, because she wasn’t getting into her home without complying with Jake’s demand.
So, as quickly as she could, she slipped her sundress up and over her head, and then stood there, naked, clutching the fabric in one hand and her car and house keys in the other as she tried to cover her tits and cunt with her arms.
“Ethan?” she said. “I’ve done it. Let me in.”
“Now stuff your dress up your pussy,” he said.
She blushed an even deeper red – but there was no defying her son. She spread her legs and stuffed her dress up into her wet cunt, as best as she could. It made her feel lewd, and uncomfortably full, and half the dress was still hanging out in any event.
“Good girl,” said Ethan, and opened the door. He looked her up and down, as she stood there, humiliated.
“Where’s my porn?” he said, finally.
Melissa had forgotten the porn magazines Jake had made her buy. They were still in the car. She knew what Ethan was going to make her do, so she just did it – she scurried back to the car, nude, and leaned into the passenger side to retrieve the filthy magazines, before returning to her son.
“Good,” he said, taking the magazines. “Get inside, cunt.”
She gratefully moved past him, into the shelter of the house.
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Once inside, Ethan led her to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and made her kneel in front of him, and then had her masturbate his cock while she told him of her exploits that day.
“Keep it pointed at your face, cunt,” he told her. “And don’t flinch or close your eyes when you receive your gift, or I’ll slap you.”
She described her encounter at the truck stop, and then her activities in tracking, blackmailing and raping Gabrielle. Ethan made her repeat her descriptions of the rape, in increasingly explicit detail, until Melissa’s own cunt was throbbing with arousal, before finally she felt his cock twitch in her hand, and suddenly he was spurting his hot cum all over her face and hair.
She felt a moment of pride that she did not, in fact flinch – and then mortifying humiliation that she would feel proud of such a thing. There were sticky gobs of cum in her hair, on her cheeks and lips, and some was in her eye.
She knew not to clean it off without Ethan’s permission, and she also knew, without having to be told, to lean forward and suck her son’s cock clean once he was done.
“You’ve done well, cunt,” said Ethan, as she serviced his cock with her mouth. “If Gabrielle does as you’ve told her to, we should soon be in a good position to have some fun with Aunty Kay. And you want that, don’t you?”
She bobbed her head up and down on his cock in a “yes”, knowing it was the answer he wanted – and that it was also, shamefully, the truth.
He leaned back on the bed, his cock still inside her, and picked up a piece of paper from the bedside table. He placed it on the bed beside his legs.
“That’s my latest home economics assignment,” he told her. “It’s on parenting. I got an A+.”
Melissa felt her heart sink at the news.
“That means I get something from you, cunt,” said Ethan. “But I thought it was time to look at this from a bigger perspective. You claim to be my parent – but you’re naked, kneeling, with cum on your face, as you suck your own son’s dick. Whereas I have an A+ in my parenting assignment. Who do you think is actually the better parent, cunt?”
Melissa didn’t know what to say. She looked down, and kept sucking.
Ethan grabbed her hair and yanked her forcefully off his cock, and then slapped her across the face.
“I asked you a question, cunt,” he said. “Who’s the better parent?”
She still didn’t know how to answer. It was an obscene question – a hurtful one.
Except she did know. She knew the answer that Ethan wanted.
“You are,” she mumbled.
“That’s right, cunt,” said Ethan. “I am. So I was thinking that from now on, maybe *I* should be the parent around here.”
“But…” Melissa didn’t understand, didn’t know what to say.
“From now on, we’re going to accept that *I’m* the adult, and we’re going to treat you like you’re 17,” said Ethan. “Tomorrow you’re going to start the process of transferring all your property into my name. The house, the car, your bank accounts – everything. If you make any money, it will be paid directly to my accounts. If you want money for your own purposes, you can ask permission to have it.”
Melissa’s eyes were wide. “Ethan – you can’t…”
He slapped her. “Don’t ever tell me what I can or can’t do, cunt,” he said. “I’m the grown-up, remember? You’ll do it – or else we’ll see what happens when the police find out about you raping Gabrielle. You won’t get much use out of the house or car if you’re in jail.”
She made more blubbery sounds of protest, and Ethan slapped her again, but Melissa already knew that she would obey. Her ability to resist her son seemed non-existent.
“And the fact that you’re 17 means that you don’t leave this house without permission,” said Ethan, “and you need permission for any outfit you wear, and if you misbehave under my roof you can expect to be disciplined. Understand?”
She whimpered – but she said, “Yes.”
“No,” he said, “I don’t think ‘yes’ is enough. Try, ‘Yes, daddy’.”
She balked in horror. “No,” she said. Apparently she could disobey him, if what he asked was abhorrent enough.
“Yes,” he said. “Go on, try it.”
“No!” she objected. “I’m not calling my own son ‘daddy’. It’s disgusting!”
He slapped her – twice.
“We both know you’re going to obey,” he told her. “You may as well do it now.”
She felt like crying. “No!” she whined.
So he stood up, dragged her upright by her hair, and pushed her against the bedroom wall. Then he began to beat her breasts with his hand. Each slap hurt like fire – but Melissa couldn’t bring herself to defend herself. She knew it would only make it worse. She just squealed in pain.
“I’m going to keep hitting your tits until you say, ‘Please stop, daddy. I’ll be a good girl daddy,’” said Ethan. “That’s the only way it will stop. How long that takes is up to you.”
And he went on slapping her tits with his hand.
The fact that she lasted as long as she did was a testament to how much she *didn’t* want to call Ethan daddy. It violated something deep inside her. It felt like a final abandonment of her right to be a parent, a final descent into perversity, and she resisted as hard as she could.
But in the end, Ethan was telling nothing but the truth. He would keep beating her tits until she relented, even if they turned purple and black with bruising. And so, shortly after Melissa had begun to scream from each new hit, she gave up.
“Please stop, daddy,” she whimpered. “I’ll be a good girl, daddy.”
Ethan stopped, and smiled, and stroked her hair. “That’s a good cunt. That’s all you had to say. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry, daddy.”
“That’s all right, cunt,” he said. “You’re forgiven. But beating your pretty tits has made daddy’s cock hard again. Why don’t you ask daddy to rape you?”
She made a mewling noise of utter distress. She wanted to say this least of all. But her tits were hurting so much – she couldn’t take more…
“Please rape me, daddy,” she whispered, and felt her cunt throb with perverted, shameful lust as she said it.
“Of course I will, cunt,” said her son.
And he did.
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