Story: Madelyn’s Conservatorship, Part 2

Previous chapters:
One

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Madelyn’s 18-year-old sister Avery had dressed in an outfit so similar to Madelyn’s that it was practically identical.  Avery always loved to copy her older sister’s looks and style, and with her cute face and long blonde hair she often looked even hotter in them than Madelyn did, to Madelyn’s minor annoyance and jealousy.

In their high heels and tiny skirts and tight halter tops, Madelyn thought that she and Avery looked fashionable and sexy.  She had no idea that they actually looked more like a pair of high-end prostitutes.  

She did know, though, that when they held hands – as Avery always insisted on when they were together – they looked a little like they were lesbian girlfriends, at least until someone saw how similar their faces were and did a double-take.  Madelyn had some reservations about this – it was a slutty enough to be a lesbian, let alone have people think she was dating her own *sister* – but it always got such delightfully confused, flustered and appreciative reactions from boys that she didn’t really mind.  And it was sweet that Avery always wanted to be so close to her older sister.

Tonight they were going to the Candy Club.  It wasn’t Madelyn or Avery’s normal choice of bar – it had a strong reputation for sexualising and patronising its female customers, and everyone knew it had the highest rate of sexual assaults and rapes of any club in the city.  But it was the hot place to be – rich men hung out there, with their expensive dates – and it had been the choice of Madelyn’s gross cousin Logan, who was rich enough to buy many drinks every night for his guests, and so that was where Madelyn had to go if she wanted to see her friends.

Tonight at the Candy Club there was a cover charge, and it wasn’t cheap.  That wasn’t a problem for Madelyn, because every day she received money from fans online who liked her cute photos and lifestyle livestreams.  Just that day, she had received nearly a thousand dollars following the livestream in which she had accidentally broadcast her mother wearing lingerie and her sleeping sister’s nude body.  Madelyn told herself the money was from girls like herself who appreciated her style, and it never occurred to her that it was almost entirely from men who entertained fantasies of raping her – even when they specifically asked to see “more of that hot cunt you call a mother” or “another shot of your sister’s titties”.

Or perhaps it did occur to her, but she didn’t let herself think about it.  Because if she was taking money from men who wanted to fuck her, that made her a whore.  And she wasn’t a whore.  She was a nice girl.

Although the cover charge wasn’t an issue, the long queue definitely was.  There were dozens of people waiting to get in, queued down the street, and the line was showing no signs of moving.

Madelyn pouted.  

“Logan always picks the most difficult clubs,” she complained.

But Avery was bouncing on her toes and pointing.

“Look,’ she said.  “Sluts get in free.”

She was right.  A sign by the door read, “SLUTS skip the line and enter FREE”.

“Avery,” protested Madelyn, “we’re not sluts.”

“Sure we are, if it lets us skip the line,” she said.  

She pulled her sister by the hand towards the front door of the club, where a tattooed bouncer was blocking entry.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said.  “We’re sluts.  Can we go in?”

He looked at them, clearly liking what he saw.

“Do something slutty,” he said.

Madelyn started to pull away – clearly she wasn’t going to *perform* for some man – but Avery grabbed her and pulled her back.

And then, before Madelyn could react, Avery grabbed a handful of Madelyn’s hair, pulled her head down slightly towards her shorter sister, and then kissed Madelyn on the mouth.

It wasn’t a polite, chaste kiss, either.  Avery’s mouth was open, and her tongue pushed between Madelyn’s lips. 

Madelyn, stunned, did nothing, as her cute younger sister French-kissed her. She blushed bright red.  This was *incest*.  And they were doing it to entertain some gross club security guy!

Avery moaned into Madelyn’s mouth, and caressed her face – and then finally pulled away.  Madelyn was left gasping.

“How was that?” asked Avery brightly.

“That’ll do,” said the bouncer.  “Here are your passes.”

He fastened a paper circlet pass around each of their wrists.  It was pink, and read in large white sans-serif letters, “SLUT – I CONSENT”.  Madelyn didn’t even read it though, as she was too consumed by shock and outrage as Avery pulled her into the club.

“What was *that*?” she hissed.

“Wasn’t it *fun*?” said Avery.  “Did you see that bouncer’s pants?  His cock was so hard!”

“Avery, I’m your *sister*,” said Madelyn.

“I know!” said Avery.  “That’s why it’s alright!  It’s not like we’re *real* girlfriends.  And it got us inside!”

“Avery, people will think…” began Madelyn.

“People won’t think anything unless you keep talking about it out loud,” said Avery.  “It was just cute fun.”  She paused, and added, “But you need kissing practice.  You were just kind of *dead* there.”

“I wasn’t *dead*, I was shocked because I was *kissing my sister*!” hissed Madelyn.

But she was a little too loud, and as they made their way through the packed club suddenly several nearby men turned to stare at Madelyn.  She blushed bright red, and realised Avery was right.  Talking about it was only increasing her embarrassment.

“Fine,” she whispered.  “Whatever.”

Up ahead they could see Logan’s table – the best table in the club.  Logan was Madelyn’s cousin-once-removed – the grandson of her grandfather – and he was handsome, in a kind of 24-year-old sleazy, slimy way.  Madelyn would have said that Logan would be more attractive if he didn’t always have a smug, punchable grin on his face, and that was true – but also in a way that insufferable, unearned confidence made up most of his charm.  That, and his wealth.

He was seated at the back of the booth in an expensive suit, and he had each arm draped around a different woman.  Madelyn’s heart sank a little as she saw the group of men and women gathered around Logan.  They were her friends, yes – but the most difficult friends she had.  Madelyn had been hoping for more girls she was close to, but this group were more in the category of “acquaintaces”, and if Madelyn had to describe the girls at the table she would have privately admitted they were *bitches*.  Shallow, cruel girls who leeched off Logan’s wealth, cooperated eagerly with his constant encouragement for them to be casually bitchy to each other, and who laughed at his misogynistic jokes.

Logan saw Madelyn and Avery arriving, and roughly pushed away the two girls he had been cuddling with.

“Move, cunts,” he said.  “My cousins are here.”

The girls reluctantly got up, and the whole table shuffled so as to leave precisely two seats free – the two seats on either side of Logan, where the girls he had been using as decoration had previously sat.

Madelyn didn’t want to sit next to Logan, but she had no choice.  She seated herself on one side of Logan, and Avery took the other.  Avery immediately cuddled up to Logan in a kittenish fashion – she actually *liked* her horrid cousin, for whatever reason.  Madelyn sat more stiffly.  Logan immediately draped an arm over her shoulder, and Madelyn shifted awkwardly, trying to find a position where his fingers weren’t stroking the upper part of her breast.

“And how are my two favourite fuckdolls?” asked Logan.  

Madelyn pulled away from him.  “Don’t call us that,” she said.

It was always like this with Logan.  He never called any woman by name, always finding a degrading nickname for them, and he didn’t even refer to “women” or “girls” – they were always “bitches” or “whores” or some other thing.

“Sure,” said Logan.  “How about ‘twats’?  Does that describe you?  ‘Cum-toilets’?”

The other girls and guys at the booth laughed.

Madelyn wished now that she could just leave.  It was a mistake to have come here without any close friends.  “Don’t be rude, Logan,” she said.

Logan looked at Avery.  His hand around her shoulders reached down and gave her breast a playful squeeze.

“How about you decide, babygirl?” he said.  “What should I call cunts like you and your sister?”

Avery giggled.  “Sex-kittens,’ she said eagerly.

“That’s good,” said Logan.  “Sex-kittens.  I like that.  Are you a good sex-kitten, babygirl?”

Avery nodded eagerly.

Madelyn sighed in disgust.  “Don’t pander to him, Avery,” she said.

“But it’s *funny*,” giggled Avery.  “Don’t you want to be a kitten, Maddie?”

“Not with Logan,” said Madelyn firmly.

“I’ll call you cuntface if you’re going to be a bitch,” said Logan.  “But if you’re nice I’ll call you sweetie.  Say sorry and that you’ll be a a good cunt, and I’ll just call you sweetie.”

He was going to be like this all night.  He was literally going to call her cuntface in front of all these people, and make her answer to it – and she knew that she would, because if she just stormed out or kept sulking she was going to get a reputation as a bitch and an ice queen.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said quietly, pouting.  

“Sorry, sir, what?” prompted Logan.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be a good cunt,” said Madelyn.

“There you go, sweetie,” said Logan.  “Was that so hard?”  He smiled at her, and deliberately squeezed her breast, making her flinch.

“Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he said suddenly.  “I think she used to call herself Kaitlyn?”

He gestured to a girl at the end of the table.  The girl had long platinum-blonde hair, and she had huge, obviously fake tits, with the kind of rounding that made them look like soccer balls stuck to her chest.  They were only barely concealed by a semi-transparent top that was far too tight, and she had no bra on underneath.  Madelyn could clearly see her nipples.

Madelyn stared at her blankly.  She didn’t know this girl.  She had never met her before.  Why did Logan think she knew her?

And then recognition flashed in her brain.  Kaitlyn. 

“Oh my god,” she gasped.

When she had last seen Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn had been a shy, pretty girl with normal-sized tits.  She had routinely worn a crucifix and seemed to take her Catholicism seriously.  She would rather have died than been seen like… this… in public.

But it was the same face, and the same girl, even if the expression in Kaitlyn’s eyes was one of vacant, humiliated sexual arousal.

“Sugardoll, show us your cunt,” said Logan, snapping his fingers at Kaitlyn.

Immediately, without any apparent thought or processing, Kaitlyn stood and pulled up her skirt.  She wasn’t wearing underwear and the whole table could see her shaved pussy.

“Good girl,” said Logan.  “Sit.  No need to pull your skirt back down.”

Kaitlyn promptly sat, her skirt still bunched around her waist.  She spread her legs as she sat.  The table now blocked Madelyn’s view of her friend’s twat, but she knew it was there, bared in public.

“Kaitlyn?” said Madelyn.  “What… what’s happened to you?”

Logan spoke for her.

“Sugardoll has spent the last year at the Stenway Academy,” he said.  “It’s a finishing school that my father invests in.  Young woman go to it and they come back as… more *female* versions of themselves.”

“She’s…” Madelyn paused, not knowing what to say without insulting her friend.  She wanted to say “grotesque” or “disgusting”.

Logan snapped his fingers at Kaitlyn.  “Sugardoll, are you happier since you’ve been to Stenway?”

Kaitlyn shook her head emphatically, and Madelyn saw tears in the corners of her eyes.

“No,” Kaitlyn said in a small voice.  “I’m ashamed and disgusted by how slutty I am.”

“And how do you feel about that?” asked Logan.

“It’s what I deserve as a woman,” said Kaitlyn in the same small voice, “and I’m grateful to Stenway for helping me realise that.”

“See?” said Logan.  “She loves it.”  He snapped his fingers again.  “Sugardoll, masturbate for us.  Don’t let yourself cum, and taste your cunt juices every ten seconds or so.”

Kaitlyn immediately reached down and began to play with her pussy, right there in the middle of the club.  Her face flushed, and her nipples hardened.

Everyone at the table, except for Madelyn, laughed.

“That’s gross, Logan,” said Madelyn.  “Make her stop.”

Logan ignored her.

“But actually I’ve got something else to show you tonight,” he said.  He reached into a pocked and brought out something that looked like a toy raygun – a sci-fi pistol made of rounded, moulded chrome, with its muzzle ending in a round plastic ring.

“What is it?” asked Madelyn, unable to help herself.

“It’s a – well, we’re calling it the female instinct gun,” he said.  “Not very catchy, I know.  We’ll work on it.  Basically it’s a device that can be discharged into a woman, and for a brief period it brings her closer to her instinctive female roots.”

“What do you mean?” said Madelyn.

“Oh, just the things that come naturally to you as a woman,” said Logan.  “The instinct to obey men.  The instinct to breed.  The instinct to worship cocks.  The instinct to be collared, leashed and controlled.  The instinct to crawl rather than stand.  The instinct to piss like an animal and the instinct to please your pussy at any cost.”

“Those aren’t female instincts,” objected Madelyn.  “That’s just misogyny.”

“Well, that’s one opinion,” said Logan.  “But the thing about the female instinct gun is…”

He shrugged, and gave a disarming grin.

And then he raised the gun and pressed it suddenly against Madelyn’s forehead.

“The thing is that it *works*,” he said.

And then he pulled the trigger.

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