Story: Madelyn’s Conservatorship, Part 4

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three

===

It was late, and it was night, and Stacy Hornwood was at home alone.  Her two teenaged daughters were out at the club, and Stacy had the house to herself.

She was wearing little more than panties, negligee and a dressing gown.  She had showered earlier, and with both girls out on the town there seemed little point in dressing again.  

Besides, deep down inside, a voice was always telling her that she didn’t really deserve to wear clothes.

It was a voice she tried to ignore.  She was a decent woman.  She was a good mother.  She had done everything necessary to raise and provide for her two daughters, and as a result they had grown into beautiful, popular, well-educated and capable young women.

But then she would see that photo of herself, larger than life in the hallway of her house.  She would look at herself under the words “Good Girl”, naked and pregnant, spreading her cunt for the camera, and read the subtitle: “The Slut In Her Natural State!  Brainless, Breeding and Exposed!”

She would remember how she had been gang-raped in her high-school toilets on her 18th birthday by twenty of her male classmates.  She would remember how her best female friend Ella had held her down for them, because Ella had thought that Stacy was flirting with Ella’s boyfriend.  She would remember how they had ejaculated in her mouth, and her ass, and on her hair and face and tits, and how they had cum in her pussy again and again and again.  She would remember how they had called her a whore and a cocktease and laughed at her, and slapped her face and breasts.  She would remember how she had humiliatingly orgasmed at one point, and how that had made them shriek with cruel mirth.  She would remember how when they were all done they had pissed on her, and then made her lick the piss from the bathroom floor.

Was that girl a decent woman?  Did that girl deserve respect?  She tried to tell herself that she did, but a part of her was never quite convinced.

She had never told her parents – or anyone else – about the rape.  And that caused problems when she realised she was pregnant.  The gang rape was her only experience of sex.  There was no one else she could identify as the father.  And so she had to allow people to assume that she was a slut that had slept around with so many different men that she had no idea which one had impregnated her.

Her mother was a feminist – but the sort of feminist who abhorred sluts and whores, considering them to be gender traitors.  She was disgusted that Stacy had gotten knocked up by sleeping around – and her response was to kick Stacy out of the house.  

Stacy was homeless.  The law in her state prohibited abortions, even if Stacy could have afforded one, which she couldn’t.  Stacy had nowhere to go.  She was forced to drop out of school only a month short of graduating and sleep on the streets.

And that was where her uncle had stepped in.

Benjamin Hornwood was her father’s brother.  He was married to a pretty submissive woman named Dinah who was only a year older than Stacy, and he had been independently wealthy ever since he had developed a revolutionary process for reducing impurities in alloys as a young man.  By the time Stacy discovered her pregnancy, he had parlayed that into a controlling stake in an engineering and R&D firm that was valued at over thirty million dollars.

Stacy’s parents never spoke much about Benjamin, so Stacy had been, up until that point, unaware of Benjamin’s idiosyncratic political beliefs.  But she learned about them when he called her to his mansion to meet with her.

“I see you’ve been a good little breeder, Stacy,” he had said as he met with her in his well-appointed study, in front of an open fireplace.  “Tell me honestly – who is the father?”

Stacy blushed.  “I… don’t know,” she said, truthfully.

“Stacy,” said Benjamin, “I can fix your life.  So that you won’t be living in poverty.  In fact, I’m prepared to make you and your baby financially comfortable for the rest of your life, subject to some conditions.  But I need you to be honest with me about how you came to be knocked up.”

And so Stacy told her uncle how she had been gang-raped.

Benjamin smiled as she spoke, and when she was done, he said, “I need you to say one thing, Stacy, and then I’ll fix all this for you.  I need you to say, ‘I deserved this because I am a slut.’”

Stacy was revolted.  “I… but I didn’t!” she protested.

“Just say it, Stacy,” said Benjamin.  “Then we can work on making things better for you.”

Stacy was silent for a long moment.  She had slept the last night under a bridge.  She had seen  homeless men looking at her and she had been certain she was going to be gang-raped again.  She was wet and her clothes were itchy.

She didn’t want to be homeless.

“I deserved to be raped because I am a slut,” she said.

Benjamin beamed.  “Good girl!” he enthused.  “You see, Stacy, I am possessed of a very particular truth, that sadly your parents have not educated you in.  And that truth is that all women are nothing but fuckdolls for men to rape.  What happened to you was not only normal, but proper, and you’re a very good girl for allowing it to happen.”

Stacy didn’t know what to say to this.

“My brother David married a bitch of a woman,” said Benjamin.  “A feminist, if you can believe that.  I know you probably don’t want to hear your mother described as a bitch, but it’s a very good word for any woman, and doubly so for your mother, Stacy.  She did not agree with my views on women, and she pressured my brother to cut me out of your family life.”

He paused, and said, “You would agree that your mother is a bitch who deserves to be raped, wouldn’t you, Stacy?”

Stacy blushed.  She said nothing.

“I just need a bit of co-operation from you if we’re going to fix this, Stacy,” said her uncle.  “Play along, dear.  Tell me that your mother is a bitch who deserves to be raped.”

“My mother is a bitch who deserves to be raped,” mumbled Stacy, hating that she was betraying her mother that way.

“Very good,” said Benjamin.  “So I’m going to help you out, but you just need to help me give your mother the middle finger, my playing a role as exactly the sort of girl she would most hate you to be.  If you do that, then I will provide a comfortable financial situation for yourself and your children for as long as you live.”

“What… what do I have to do?” asked Stacy.

“You have to do porn, dear,” said Benjamin.  “You’re very pretty and you’d do very well even under normal circumstances, but hot pregnant buxom teens command a premium in the fetish market.  I’ll set you up with a friend of mine, and you’ll work as a porn model for two years – twenty-four months.  I will pay all the costs of your pregnancy and childbirth, at the premium level, with the best doctors and hospitals, and you will live in a mansion paid for by me, and I will pay you a generous living wage for the rest of your life.”

Stacy was overwhelmed.  The idea of having her finances handled for the rest of her life seemed magical – particularly after shivering under a cold bridge the previous night.  But… do porn?

“Why do I have to do porn?” she asked.  There was a whining tone in her voice that she didn’t like.

“Because I want your mother to see that she raised a slut,” said Benjamin.  “Because I want to see that the natural state of women is serving cock.  I know it’s not just, or fair, but those are my terms, Stacy, and you can take them or leave them.  Honestly I think two years of porn for a lifetime of comfort is an exceptionally good deal.  It’s a better deal than most actual porn models get.”

Benjamin didn’t take an answer from her there and then.  He insisted that she take a night to think about it – and sent her back to spend that night on the street.  Stacy ended up sleeping behind a dumpster, and in the early hours of the morning she woke to find a homeless man who smelt of beer crouched over her, masturbating, his cock inches from her face, and when she opened her mouth to scream he orgasmed, ejaculating into her eyes and into her mouth, before scurrying away laughing.

She arrived at her uncle’s mansion bright and early to tell him that she would take the deal.

It was at that point that she learned there were other conditions.

“Just five extra rules, Stacy,” Benjamin told her.  “Four little things.  Hardly worth mentioning.”

“Number one: if you pull out of the porn contract, or break the rules at any time in your life, you become liable to repay every red cent I’ve spent on you, and you’re required to work as directed by me if you can’t repay it.  And you can be sure I *will* put you to work as a whore, or worse.  So keep your side of the deal, okay, dear?  It’s not hard.”

“Number two: no contraceptives, no abortions.  I don’t believe in women having reproductive rights.  You will never use a condom or a birth control pill or an implant, and you will carry any child you conceive to term.”

“Number three: if I’m paying for your healthcare, I’m in charge of it.  You will never visit a medical professional without my approval in advance unless it is a life-threatening emergency.  You will never take a drug without my permission.  You will give me power of attorney over your medical decisions, and allow me to attend medical appointments with you if I choose to.”

“Number four: you have been a very good girl in not reporting your rape, and I want you to continue that practice.  You will never claim to anyone that anything that happens to you did not have your consent.  You will never cooperate with police about anything.  You will never corroborate or support a claim of rape or assault by any other woman, and if possible you will tell lies to make other victims seem dishonest.  You will never suggest to a woman that any man is unsafe or untrustworthy, or men generally, and if you become aware that a man is intending to cheat on a woman, or rape her, or otherwise violate her, you will never disclose that to anyone, let alone the woman in question.”

“And number five: you will commemorate this arrangement by hanging a picture of my choice from your porn modelling in the entryway to your house, at a larger-than-life, to remind you and everyone who visits you exactly what kind of slut you are, for the rest of your life.”

“Understand?”

Stacy hated those rules.  She cried.  But when she thought of refusing, she remembered waking to find the homeless man jerking off onto her face, and the brutally intense fear and shame and violation she had felt in that moment.  She couldn’t go back to that.

So she would do what she was told.  She agreed.  And part of her naively thought that her uncle was just trying to scare her, that he wouldn’t *really* require all these things of her.  Probably he just wanted to see her nude, and after she’d done one or two porn shoots he would let her off the hook.  Probably…

But he was completely serious.  Stacy worked as a porn model for 24 months.  It started with tasteful nudes, and then proceeded to more explicit ones, including the infamous photo for Good Girl magazine that now hung on her wall, in which a nine-month-pregnant Stacy knelt nude and spread her pussy lips for the camera.

But solo nudes weren’t enough for Benjamin.  He made her do photoshoots with other girls – at first just nude together, but before long she was kissing them, and fondling their tits, and then they were playing with her pussy, and then licking her cunt, and eventually she was doing hardcore lesbian scenes, despite not being a lesbian.

It was during one of those scenes when she was focused on licking the twat of a fake-titted blonde bimbo that a man walked onto set without any warning and shoved his cock into her cunt from behind.  Stacy went stiff with shock as she was raped on camera and the man ejaculated into her cunt without a condom.

She was livid.  But her uncle was there, watching, and he reminded her as soon as she got off set that she couldn’t complain and she couldn’t tell anyone that she didn’t consent.  And she *would* keep doing porn shoots.

She gave birth to Madelyn soon after that.  The birth was filmed, with one busty naked midwife bimbo kissing Stacy on the lips and another massaging Stacy’s clit as she bored down on her child.  She orgasmed on film during her daughter’s birth, something she would never stop feeling ashamed about for as long as she lived.

Benjamin gave her one month off after the birth, but after that she was back to filming porn, and now it was all gangbang porn, with multiple men cumming in her unprotected cunt in every scene.  It only took two months of this to knock Stacy up again, and soon she was swelling with a second child even while she was still breastfeeding the first one. 

Benjamin took this opportunity to renegotiate his deal with her.  After all, she couldn’t see a gynaecologist about her new pregnancy without his permission.  She had no choice.

Blessedly, he didn’t extend her porn contract, or she might have been kept perpetually pregnant for the rest of her life.  But he did require that she display an image of her second daughter’s conception in that daughter’s bedroom once she turned 18, so her daughter would know what kind of a whore her mother was.  Beyond that, he made her promise to do everything her power to stop her daughters using contraception when they came of age.

And then he made her suck his cock.  Although Benjamin had been present at many of Stacy’s porn shoots, he had never touched her.  But now he made her crawl nude to his feet and wrap her lips around his dick.  She gave her own uncle a blowjob, and swallowed his cum, and considered herself lucky to do so.

He also made her fuck his son, Sean.  Sean was older than Stacy, and already married and divorced, but he had a kink for violent rape, and in order to get Benjamin’s approval for her pregnancy treatment, Stacy had to let Sean slap her, and force her to his bed, and choke her, and rape her, and laugh at her.  

“Do you think that slut in your belly is going to be cute when she grows up?” Sean had said.  “I think she will be.  I think she’ll be a whore like you.  I bet when she’s all grown up, my boy Logan is going to rape her, and your other bitch daughter too.  Won’t that be cute?  Don’t you think it will be nice for your daughters to be raped by their cousin?”

She hadn’t responded, so he had slapped her across the face, once, twice, three times, until Stacy had finally moaned: “Yes, I hope my daughters get raped by your son.”

It had been awful.  But when it was done, it was done.  Benjamin had no more conditions.  Stacy finished her porn contract, and gave birth to her second daughter, Avery, and true to his word Benjamin set her up in a very expensive house on a very generous stipend, and the only reminder of those nightmarish two years was the huge nude photo in her hallway.

Of course, anyone in the world who Googled Stacy Hornwood would find her porn shoots.  And if they visited her house they’d see her spreading her cunt.  But Stacy didn’t need much social life.  She had two wonderful daughters and all the money she needed.  

She didn’t tell her daughters the full terms of what had happened to her – although she did have to explain why they didn’t have a father, and she did have to explain why she was displaying a nude photo of herself prominently.  She took a job as a waitress, and pretended that it was necessary in order to pay the rent, so that her daughters would learn the value of hard work and financial management.  

And slowly, her daughters grew up into women that she loved and could be proud of.  Thanks to Stacy’s sacrifices, her daughters would never know the shame and violation that Stacy had been forced to live with.

She had left it all behind her, as much as she could.

Or so she thought.

Until that night, when her daughters were out clubbing, and suddenly the front door to her house – which she had thought was locked – sprung open to reveal three men in black ski masks, each carrying a wicked-looking knife.

“See?” said one.  “Just like on that cunt’s video.  A spare key under the pot plant.”

“Fuck, it’s the cunt’s mother,” said another.  “Look at the tits on her.  Even better than her livestream.”

The man who had just spoken raised his knife.

“Where’s that little whore Madelyn?” he said.  “We’re going to rape that cockteasing little e-slut.  And her sister.  Like they deserve.”

“They’re out!” shrieked Stacy.  “Please!  They’re not here!”

Part of her wanted to call the police.  But her rules were still ingrained into her.  Benjamin had made her repeat them on the phone to him twice a week for two years. 

Never report an assault.  Never cooperate with police.

“She’s lying,” said one man.

“No, she’s not,” said another.  “Fuck.  Didn’t the cunt say something about going clubbing tonight?  With her sister?”

“Then why are we here?” said a third man.  “We’re wasting our time.”

“No, we’re not,” said the first man.  “If we can’t fuck Madelyn, we can damn well rape her mother.”

“No,” whispered Stacy, backing away.  “No.  Please.  Not again.  Please don’t.”

But the man was advancing on her, with his knife drawn.

“Get that robe off and strip, bitch,” he said.  “We’re going to have a little fun with you….”

===

Want more tales of family corruption?  Check out my novella Brea Comes Home From College, available for only $7.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  It contains a complete bonus-length twisted tale that you’ll love – and your purchase supports me to keep writing!  Get your copy now!  (Click here to view in store.)

===