alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Bitch Kittens and the Control Stick

The clique of the wealthiest and most popular girls in school were called the “Bitch Kittens”.  Their favourite activity was subjecting their female classmates to what they called “a bit of fun” – which was what the school called “bullying”, and what the law called “sexual abuse”.

When pretty blonde Tiffany managed to seduce then blackmail Dr John Abnis, a hypnotherapist, into joining their cruel games, it opened up a whole new world for them.

Cute, petite Maria was the target of a prank they called the “Control Stick”.  They invited Maria to a weekend at Tiffany’s beach house.  Maria, delighted to think she had a chance of joining the most popular clique in school, eagerly attended – only to find on arrival that her belongings and clothes were taken away, she was tied to a chair, and subjected to 72 hours of intense hypnosis.

By the time it was done, Maria had three sets of hypnotic controls lodged in her brain.

First, she found herself unable to wear panties of any sort, or to wear anything below the waist other than short skirts.

Second, she was completely unable to report, complain about, or talk about any sexual abuse or harassment she received, nor make changes to her life or behaviour that would prevent it from happening.

And third was the “control stick” program.  When a dildo was inserted into Maria’s anus, her ass muscles would grip it tightly, keeping it within her, but she would be unable to remove it herself, nor would she be able to cover her tits, cunt or pussy while it was inside her, nor could she stand upright, nor would she permit a female to remove it from her.   

She would be forced to crawl around with a dildo visibly lodged in her anus until she could find a man and beg him to take it out.  If she was questioned about her behaviour, she would say it was something she had done to herself, because she was a slut who enjoyed being degraded.

Every day after school, from then on, the Bitch Kittens would catch Maria, hold her down, and force a dildo into her ass, and laugh uproariously as the humiliated girl crawled away, dildo wiggling degradingly in her butt, looking for a man who would help her, perhaps even without taking advantage of her first…

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You can find more erotic tales of fads and trends in my e-book The Popular Girls – Stories of Social Submission, available for only $4.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Get your copy today!  (Click here to view in store.)

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The popular school clique of "Bitch Kittens" humiliates cute, petite Maria.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Female Friendships Role-Modelling

In  the past, girls had grown up on films and books and music that taught girls to have chaste, platonic relationships with other girls, but with the gradual ascent of the patriarchy, all that had changed.

Now it was illegal to produce a fictional depiction of two women having a relationship that wasn’t sexual, degrading, and submissive to men.  

When two women met in a film, they would comment on each other’s tits and fuckability, before tongue kissing and groping each other’s tits while men watched.  When two women made an arrangement to spend time together, they would spend that time licking each other’s cunts, or finding men to have a threesome with.  Their conversations would be about what sluts they were, and what things they liked pushing up their twats, and how much fun it was to be raped.

It was considered a sign of friendship and appropriate socialisation between two girls for one girl to molest, insult, humiliate and rape the other.  When a teen girl complained to her parents that a friend had stripped her nude at school and spread her pussy for the boys to look at, her parents would be delighted, and insist that she invite the girl to their house for further playdates.

The more toxic a female friendship was, and the more it served the entertainment of the patriarchy, the more it would be held up in films and books as the perfect and desirable relationship between girls.  Girls would make appointments with each other to lick each other’s pussies in nightclubs, or strip each other nude in public, or to spank each other’s cunts as they apologised for being bitches, and they would giggle and laugh as they did these things and convince themselves that they were lucky to have such good female friendships.

And after all, girls who hung out and *didn’t* rape each other were *perverted* – or so the media said.   There was something unnatural about two women spending time together if they weren’t kissing and touching each other’s pussies and calling each other sluts.  

And girls who were *unnatural* could get arrested… and sentenced to correction…

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Did you know you can also buy my e-books on Smashwords?  (Click here to see my catalogue on Smashwords!)

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In the near future, girls are given different models for their relationships with each other.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Stepford Pattern, Part 8

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

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Hayley’s degradation video was much like the one that Jenny had described making.

Hayley emerged nude from the computer room, seeming like she was barely aware of Harrison or Jenny or Cait, holding her phone and using it to film herself. Jenny had described ordering a can of dog food from a delivery service, but Cait was prepared and had a can of dog food ready, which she handed to Hayley.

Hayley took it to the kitchen and opened it with a can opener.  They all watched as she pushed   chunks of the slimy, jellied meat up her spread fuckhole, until the entire can had been stuffed into her cunt.  Then she began to masturbate, still filming herself on her phone.

When she orgasmed, Cait slid a metal dog bowl across the floor to her, and Hayley began pulling the dog food out of her twat and dropping it into the bowl until her cunt was mostly empty.  Then she got down on all fours and ate the dog food – flavoured with her cunt juices – like an animal.

When she was done, she looked at the camera on her phone and said, “Feminists are stupid sluts.  We deserve to be raped.”

Then she ended the recording and fiddled with her phone for a bit.  

“She’s sending that recording to someone,” whispered Cait.

“Can we see who it is?” asked Harrison.

“Sure,” said Cait.  “Just wait.”

“No,” said Harrison.  “Jenny said she deleted the record when she did this so she wouldn’t know who she sent it to.”

He reached forward and snatched the phone out of Hayley’s hands.  Hayley looked at him for a moment, blank, not knowing what to do – and then, still in her trance, she rose, and walked back to the computer room.

Harrison looked at who Hayley had messaged, and then passed the phone to Cait.  “Does this mean anything to you?”

Cait looked at it.

“Barry Purcell,” she said. “I recognise his name.  He’s a men’s rights activist.  As a woman’s rights lobbyist, Hayley must have sparred with him a bunch of times.  She probably hates him as much as she hates any man – and she’s about to hate him even more, because there’s no way he won’t publicise this.”

Even as they watched, a message appeared on Hayley’s phone.

“r u drunk, bitch?  nice tits.  I like u eating dog food from ur cunt lk a bitch should.  Glad u learned ur place.  U need a fucking?”

And then a moment later:

“Sent this to some friends, they think it’s fucking funny.  Gonna love seeing u do ur next interview about why cunts deserve rights, because you know the interviewer is going to have seen this first and masturbated to it.”

Cait made an aroused sigh.  “That’s so hot.  God, I know it shouldn’t be, but seeing her just ruin her life like that – admit that she’s a depraved slut after spending her whole life arguing for the dignity of women – it makes me so wet.”

Harrison felt guilty.  He had done this to her – by raping her, and exposing her to the Pattern.  He had destroyed her life.  But it was for the good of women generally, including Jenny – wasn’t it?

And Cait was right – watching the proud feminist eat dog food out of her cunt on camera *had* been hot.  Not in spite of it being wrong – but because of it.

Hayley spent a little longer in the computer room.  Then she emerged again and headed to the shower.  This too, was something Jenny had reported doing.  Jenny had washed, and then shaved her pussy.  Hayley’s pussy was already shaved, but Cait had placed a razor and shaving cream in prominent view in case Hayley needed them anyway, along with a make-up kit.

When Hayley emerged from the shower, they knew, she would have completely emerged from her trance.  She would look into the bathroom mirror and, for the first time in her life, see the dumb slut she now believed herself to be.  Harrison kind of wanted to see her expression in that moment, but standing around in the bathroom might get in the way of her completing her final tasks for the Pattern.

Instead, they waited.

When Hayley finally emerged from the bathroom, she was a sight to behold.  She had washed her long red hair, and it hung damply against her shoulders and neck.  She had indeed shaved her cunt, leaving her pussy baby-smooth.  She had applied make-up – nothing over the top, but she had definitely deliberately taken the time to make herself look attractive and fuckable.

And she was crying.

“I’m such a dumb cunt,” she said – her first words after completing the Pattern.  “Oh, god.  I’m so sorry.  I fought for the rights of… of animals.  Of things designed for men to ejaculate into and breed.  I pretended they were people.  I… criticised men for disrespecting them.”  She made a retching sound.  “I feel like I might throw up.”

“It’s okay,” said Harrison.  He didn’t know what else to say.

“But… part of me still believes that women are people,” she went on.  “It hates that I’m saying this.  It hates me.  It hates *you* – for doing this to me.  But *I* don’t hate you.  I’m… I’m grateful.  For helping me understand.  I’m grateful that you raped me.  God, I hate the idea that there are men in my life who might have wanted to fuck me, and I didn’t let them.  And I hate the idea that I’m thinking that.  I don’t… I don’t want to be a whore.  But I know that I am.  I’m so confused.”

“It’s okay,” said Harrison again, and then – “I’ll give you what you need.”

And with that, he stepped towards her and grabbed her large tits in his hands, and pulled.  She lost her balance, and toppled forward, and Harrison caught her, with one hand on her chest and one on her throat.  He pushed her back against the wall of the room, and then slapped her across the face.

“You stupid fucking cunt,” he snarled.

She needed to believe that he didn’t see her as a human.  She needed to believe that he was committed to her rape and degradation.  That was the only way she would be honest with him about her thinking under the Pattern – and the only way he could save her, and Jenny, and Cait, and all the other girls.

He slapped her across the face, and then across the tits twice.  And then he took out his cock, forced her legs apart with his knee, and shoved his dick into her pussy.

He had to admit that it wasn’t as good, now that she was submissive, and now that a large part of her wanted to be treated this way.  It had been more fun when she hated it, and more fun when she struggled.  Maybe if they needed to test the Pattern on another girl, he would keep her longer and fuck her more times before converting her.  Or maybe they should abduct a pretty, innocent girl, and not convert her at all – as a control, maybe.  To see how her brain responded to rape compared to a girl under the Pattern.

He shook his head.  These were perverted thoughts.  He didn’t want to rape girls – he wanted to help them.  All this was necessary, and in the best interests of Jenny.

He slapped Hayley twice more and then grabbed her nipple and pulled until she began to squeal and thrash.  The hint of struggle was enough to take him over the edge, and he felt himself ejaculating inside her.  He kissed her as he orgasmed, and he felt her orgasm against him when he did.

Afterwards she rested her head against his chest.

“Thank you,” she purred.  “Thank you for raping me.  Thank you for slapping me.  Thank you for showing me my true worth.”  But she was crying again.

“Do you want to be free from these new thoughts, about how you’re a worthless cunt?” Harrison asked her.

She looked at him with wide, tear filled eyes.  

“I can’t… I can’t say yes,” she whispered.

“But you want to,” he replied.

She could give him no sign that he was correct, but he knew that he was.

“Do you want it to be a secret?” he asked her.  “About what a perverted worthless cunt you are?”

This time she could say yes – and she did, by nodding her head desperately.

“That might be hard,” he told her.  And then he showed her her phone – first the video of her eating dog food that had been in her cunt, and then the messages from Barry Purcell.

Her eyes went wide, and she began to make little choking sounds.

“No,” she said.  “Please, no.”

“I didn’t do this,” said Harrison.  “You did.  Some part of you understood that you deserved this.”

“He hates me,” said Hayley.  “He hates me so much.  He’ll show this to everyone.  He’ll put it on the internet.  He’ll show it to journalists.  He’ll send it to my friends.  He’ll send it to my *father*.”

“That’s right,” said Harrison.  “Soon everyone you’ve ever known will have seen you masturbating nude with dog food in your cunt and saying that feminists deserve rape.”

She began to *really* cry then – deep, wailing sobs – and the only way to shut her up was to slap her, push her to her knees, and then shove his dick into her mouth, plugging it.  It took a couple more slaps to get her to start sucking, but her tears felt nice on his cock and against his belly.  And he had the satisfaction of knowing this was all for the greater good.

===

When he had ejaculated down Hayley’s throat, he led her to Jenny’s cage, and put her in it with Jenny.

“Be entertaining,” he said to the girls, and to his pleasure they immediately began to kiss and squeeze each other’s tits, immediately lost in lust.

He watched them a little, and then went to find Cait.

She was in the computer room, looking at the data they had received from Hayley’s conversion.

“Is it useful?” he asked her, as she stared at the screen.  He hadn’t bothered to put his cock away, and it was still covered in cum and Hayley’s saliva.  He enjoyed the way that Cait would keep stealing guilty, hungry glances at his dick when it was exposed.

“I think so,” said Cait.  “It confirms a theory I had.”

But she looked unhappy.

“Isn’t confirming a theory a good thing?” he asked her.

She sighed.  “It’s not a theory I like,” she said.

“Tell me,” said Harrison.

“I told you that the Pattern was based on my work,” said Cait.  “A weakness I found that largely only existed in women’s brains – a kind of hack based around vision and memory.”

“Yes,” said Harrison.  “Go on.”

“That was only half of the puzzle,” said Cait.  “The designers of the Pattern have found a second weakness – and when they’re combined, it renders women subject to this kind of reprogramming.”

“What’s the second weakness?” asked Harrison.

“Here,” said Cait.  She pointed to what appeared to be a map of brain activity, although Harrison could make little sense of it.  She was indicating an area near the amygdala.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s what was thought to be a vestigial area of the brain, rarely used,” said Cait.  “But in women it awakens when they’re ovulating, pregnant, or experiencing sexual pleasure.  In many ways it’s quite literally the biological clock – the urge for women to make babies.  It’s a very old part of the brain, and evolution has only made it stronger because, after all, the women who *do* breed are the ones who pass on their genes.”

“Does it have a name?” asked Harrison.

“No, but it’s mostly concerned with things going in and out of a woman’s pussy, so let’s call it the Cunt Brain,” said Cait.  “Now, as you know, normally hypnosis can only make you do things that you actually want to do, right?”

“Yes,” said Harrison.  “But the Pattern doesn’t work that way.”

“That’s what we thought,” said Cait, “but we were wrong.  What the Pattern does is take my research – certain ways of stimulating the parts of a woman’s brain related to vision and memory – and use them to patch into the Cunt Brain.  And as far as the Cunt Brain is concerned, women very much *do* want to be raped, owned and bred.  In fact, in that part of their brain, that’s *all* they want.  And that part of the brain is very powerful, once awakened, so when we give it these suggestions that women should degrade and enslave themselves for male cock, it responds with a very enthusiastic ‘yes’ – no matter what the rest of her brain may desire.”

“So Jenny and Hayley are thinking with their Cunt Brain?” asked Harrison.

“Not exactly,” said Cait.  “The normal parts of their brain are working.  They’re having lots of thoughts – primarily related to fear, humiliation, shame, and misery – but those thoughts are just noise.  They can’t meaningfully act on them, because the Cunt Brain is driving.  All their conscious thought is rendered secondary by their – well, by their basic nature as women, I guess.”

“What can we do about it?” asked Harrison.

“I don’t know  yet,” said Cait.  “I suspect that to reverse the Pattern I’ll need to find some way to – well, to put the Cunt Brain back to sleep, so that the conscious mind can reassert control.  But I don’t know how to do that, at this point.”

“What do you need?” he asked.

“For now – time to think,” said Cait.  “I need to go over what I’ve got, and come up with some new theories and ideas to try.  I can take further readings on Jenny and Hayley to see how their brains are working.  You can play with them, and try and get their lives sorted out.”

She took a deep breath.

“But eventually,” she said, “we *will* need to abduct another girl for me to test on.  So you might like to start thinking about girls you know who might be easy to abduct, and who you’d enjoy repeatedly raping…”

===

You can read more tales of erotic mind control in my novella Candy Girls, which tells the tale of an addictive mobile game that forces young women to slowly become sluts.  It’s available for only $7.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  (Click here to view in store.)

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Hayley's exposure to the Pattern is complete - but what comes next?

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Birthday Surprise

On her birthday, her boyfriend gave her the best gift ever – her former best friend, the pretty blonde who had so heartbreakingly rejected her advances last year.  She didn’t know how her boyfriend had done this – whether her friend was here willingly, had been paid, blackmailed, hypnotised – but as she realised that she could do *anything* to this bitch – this friend-turned-lesbian-slaveslut – and use her any way she wanted, it became clear to her that she really didn’t care…

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On her birthday, her boyfriend gave her the best gift ever...

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titcage, Part 30

(Buy the complete novel of Titcage now by clicking here!)

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine

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By the end of the week, all the boys from the party had logged onto Claire’s website and rated her sexual performance.  She got a little buzz from being rated as ‘high’ by all the boys.  And with the addition of that data, Claire had completed her R grade.   She got the change made on her ID by Michael the next Monday, just after she sucked him to orgasm.  

Next was Q grade, and Claire was pleased to find she had already completed most of the requirements for it.

Michael had another surprise for Claire.  She and Kitten were going with Michael on a campaigning tour, to visit several important politicians in their home states and win them over to a new suite of reforms Titcage wanted to implement.  He said he had already gotten confirmation from Claire’s father, and she would be home in time for her first porn viewing party that Friday night.

She wouldn’t need to pack, he told her – he already had a suitcase for her.  And they were leaving in an hour.

And so a nervous Claire found herself on a week-long series of plane trips and hotel stays.  They visited several cities and stayed in a different hotel room every night.  

On the planes, generally they sat in rows of three seats, with Michael near the aisle and Claire and Kitten together near the window.  Michael would make the two girls discretely masturbate all flight long while listening to their earbuds, without letting themselves orgasm.  When they needed to piss, both girls would go together to the toilets, Claire blushing intensely as other passengers watched them enter the toilet stall together, and then they would piss in each other’s mouths.   Often at these times Claire would grind her cunt against Kitten’s face, desperate to cum, but Kitten (like a good slut) would never let her.

In the hotel rooms, when the girls weren’t working, he would keep them naked, their hands bound behind their back, their legs bound together, with their clit rings vibrating.   He would chain the girls’ clits together with a short length of chain.  The bondage kept them from rubbing their cunts or scissoring their pussies together, and the short length of the chain kept them from turning around to 69 each other.  They had nothing to do but look into each other’s eyes and kiss while their pussies drooled with arousal.  

Claire found she liked this treatment despite herself.  It felt good to be able to be naked with Kitten with no one judging her.  She liked being aroused, and liked the feeling of her clitoris buzzing, and because of the situation it wasn’t even her fault that she was so horny.  She kind of wished she could spend more time like this, naked and chained to a pretty girl.

When it came time to work, he had the girls go through another ritual.  One of the two would suck his cock until he was ready to cum, and then he would ejaculate into a cup.  The girls would then 69 each other, licking each other to the verge of orgasm before pissing into each other’s mouths.  The horny sluts would then shower, then pour the cup of sperm over their tits, massaging the semen into their fuckbags before dressing in the slutty clothes Michael had packed.

And they were slutty.   Claire couldn’t believe she would be wearing them in public.  There were skirts so short they didn’t cover her cunt at all.  There were ‘tops’ that were little more than see-thru plastic sheathes that slid over her tits and were held in place by painful elastic at the base of her boobs.  There were cocktail dresses with holes cut out to show off her ass.  There were lacy bras designed to be worn with no top covering them.  Claire felt like a total whore in each and every one of them.  Although, she had to admit, she liked the look of Kitten in more-or-less-identically whorish clothes.

And then the two degraded sluts were taken out to see politicians.  

There were a package of reforms that Titcage wanted instituted in this round of parliament, and for each one Claire and Kitten were asked to talk it up and explain why they wanted it, why it would be good for women, and why they deserved to be degraded like that.  They usually did this while sexually satisfying the politician.  Sometimes they fucked him.  Sometimes they titfucked him or sucked his cock.   Occasionally the politician wanted to spank their cunts or whip their fuckbags, and the girls let him.  

‘This reform will make it legal for businesses to discriminate against women on the basis of breast size,’ said Claire as she bounced up and down on an elderly man’s dick.   ‘Basically businesses will be able to refuse to hire small-titted women, or pay them less, or fire them if they refuse to get a breast enlargement.  Big titted women face a lot more challenges in life; they are more likely to get back pain, they are more likely to be raped, and their bras and clothes cost more.   I don’t think it’s fair that sluts with tiny little slutbags should be treated as well as women who make the effort to please men by having big fuck handles like mine.’

In another meeting, Claire held Kitten’s head down on a politician’s cock to suck it, while she explained, ‘Breast reductions should be illegal.  Bitches who make their breasts smaller are doing it for no other reason than to make themselves less attractive to men.  We already have laws against public graffiti.  We are agreed that defacing public property is a crime.   Why do we let women deface their bodies this way?’

‘If businesses are going to be able to discriminate based on breast size,’ gasped Claire, as a politician whipped her naked tits, ‘they need to be able to get reliable data on those breasts.  This law will make it legal for companies to require breast inspections of employees or prospective employees, to measure and photograph their tits.  They can do this at the start of employment or as often as every week, if they choose.  They will be able to keep the breast photos in an employee file and make them available to future employers on request.’

‘And this last law,’ Claire finished, as she knelt across a naked Kitten’s face and released her bladder, pissing all over her friend for a strange man’s entertainment, ‘will make it illegal for women to lie about their breast size, or refuse to answer a question about their breast size, punishable by imprisonment.  Why would a woman lie about her tits or keep their size a secret?   Only to deceive her employer, surely.   Or to try and trick a man into thinking she is worth more than she is.  So with this law whenever someone asked me how big my udders were, I would have to answer with a quick ‘34DD, sir’.’

Their reward for a good performance was that Michael would let the girls cum.  He usually did this by taking them back to the hotel and fucking one of them in the cunt while the other girl masturbated; afterwards they could 69, one girl licking the sperm from the other’s recently pounded twat, until they both orgasmed.  It was the best part of each day.

The girls must have been good lobbyists, because even as they flew home, the news was already reporting that the laws had passed, and would take effect immediately.  The business councils were already gathering to implement a national database of breast photographs, and a payment scheme that would see sluts being paid more money based on how big their breasts were.   Commentators were saying that A-cup girls would be living on the poverty line, while only bitches with a G cup or higher would be permitted to earn top dollar.  Claire felt satisfied with her DDs, and felt lucky to have such big tits and not be as useless as more petite sluts.

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You can buy the complete novel of Titcage – all 42 chapters plus bonus content! – for only $9.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store.  And even better, you’ll be supporting me to keep the lights on and keep creating new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

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Claire is sent to lobby for new women-enslaving laws.

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Story: Cunty Ella

Ella was her daddy’s darling – beautiful, blonde, buxom and innocent.  She was the most beautiful maid in all the kingdom.  Her mother had passed away when Ella was young, but her daddy took care of everything she needed, and she adored him greatly.

When Ella was 18 her father remarried, to a huge-titted bimbo of a woman named Gwen, who had two adult daughters, Ava and Sara.  Ella’s father told her that he expected her to be kind to her new stepsisters and stepmother, and do everything possible to make them happy.  Ella did her best to obey, even though her new stepsisters were both sluts and bitches, and her stepmother was stupid, shallow and cruel.

However, shortly after the marriage, Ella’s father died in a horseriding accident, and all his money and possessions went to his new wife.  Ella could have left to seek her own fortune – penniless, not even the owner of her own clothes, likely destined for a career of prostitution – or she could live on under the governance of her stepmother.  She knew her father would want her to care for his wife, and to get along with her stepsisters, so she chose to stay.

It was a mistake.  Without the influence of Ella’s father, her stepmother Ava was monstrously cruel.  She threw out all of Ella’s clothes and made her go naked around the house.  She made it clear that Ella was expected to do all the housework for her sisters, and also obey their every whim.

The stepsisters were even crueller.  They delighted in molesting and torturing Ella.  They would grope her at every chance, squeezing her buttocks, grabbing and pulling on her tits, and working their fingers up into her naked cunt.  Ava so liked Ella’s pussy that she began to call her “Cunty Ella”, and made her answer to that name.  She began creeping into Ella’s bedroom at night and raping her – first by kissing her, then fingering her pussy, then licking Ella’s cunt, and finally forcing her own cunt against Ella’s face and ordering her to lick.

Ella made the mistake of reporting her rape to her stepmother.  Gwen’s response was to spank Ella’s cunt for complaining, and then declare that Ava had found an excellent new use for their slave girl, and that Ella was to lick *all* of their cunts from now on.  Whenever Ella wasn’t engaged in tiring menial chores, she found her face buried in the pussy of her stepmother or one of her stepsisters, obediently licking.

For the sisters, it wasn’t enough that they could use Ella for anything they wanted.  They decided that they wanted to make her *like* it.  Sara, the younger sister, declared that Ella must be sexually aroused at all times, and that her cunt would be spanked if she were not.  Poor Ella was forced to imagine sexual fantasies during her abuse in an attempt to keep her cunt wet – and soon enough, as Sara had hoped, this practice resulted in her beginning to become aroused *by* the abuse and humiliation.

Both mother and sisters were complete sluts, and regularly fucked many men.  Sometimes they would make Ella watch and masturbate – although they never let the men fuck Ella, as Gwen had declared that Ella didn’t *deserve* to fuck a man, and that in any case her cunt was far too disgusting for any man to fuck.  But afterwards, when the men had ejaculated into their cunts, or over their tits, they would make Ella lick them clean, and so by her 19th birthday Ella had swallowed more cum than many girls do in their entire lives.

Shortly after her 19th birthday, it was announced that the prince of the kingdom was looking for a bride, and that he would throw a ball at the castle and invite all the eligible young women of the kingdom.  Gwen, Ava and Sara all immediately announced that they would go, but that Ella would have to stay home, as it was her night to lick their dildos clean and then polish the toilet with her tongue.

But Ella desperately wanted to go.  As soon as she had heard of the ball, she had begun to have intense sexual fantasies about the prince.  She had never met him, but she longed to kiss him, to hold him – even to fuck him.  

As chance would have it, on the morning of the ball, the madam of the local brothel was visiting the house, to pick up two young sex workers who the sisters had hired to torture in lesbian games all night long.  She saw Ella’s forlorn looks, and went over to talk to her.

“Now, what’s the matter, girl?” she said.  “Are you not going to the ball tonight?”

“No,” said Ella, “for my stepmother forbids me.”

“Now, that’s just not right,” said the madam.  “Every young woman in the kingdom is invited – even my pretty little whores here.”  She looked around, and then whispered, “And you in particular MUST go.  I can sense it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ella.

“Did you not know, girl?” said the madam.  “They say in every generation, one girl is born specifically to sexually please the prince and be bred by him, with every part of her perfectly designed for his sexual gratification.  And I happen to know that the prince likes buxom, innocent blondes – it may be that *you* are the chosen one.”

The thought thrilled Ella.  “But… how can I go?” she asked.  “I have no clothes, no dress… and if my stepmother sees me at the ball, I shall be punished.”

“When your sister and mother leave tonight, come down to the brothel,” said the madam.  “Just think of me as your fairy godmother. I’ll make your wish come true.”

And so that night, Ella’s stepsisters and stepmother left for the ball in a grand carriage, and Ella ran down the street to the brothel.

The madam was waiting for her.  And the dress she had prepared was like nothing Ella had seen.

First, there was no underwear – only a crystal butt plug that the madam helped Ella to work into her asshole.  There were six-inch crystal high heels, and a crystal tiara.  There was a blue leather dog collar, with a name tag that read “Cunt”.  And there was a bunny mask, which would wholly obscure her face, with a ball-gag attached to it.

The dress itself was of beautiful shimmering blue.  The fabric was gorgeously soft to touch, and impossible to look away from.

But it concealed nothing.  The long skirt parted in the front to expose her naked cunt to public gaze.  And the top was little more than a corset that pulled her stomach in, with a ruffle of white down at the top which acted as a pillow to support her large naked tits.

Ella blushed bright red when she wore it.  This was somehow worse than being nude.  She looked like a fucktoy – but, she had to admit, a *beautiful* fucktoy.

“Don’t be precious, darling,” said the madam.  “You want to catch the prince’s eye, don’t you?  It makes sense to put your best assets on display.  And besides, with that mask, no one will know who you are, and the ball gag will stop you accidentally saying anything that would give you away.”

And so Ella went to the ball with her tits and cunt on display, a plug in her ass, and a ball gag in her mouth.

She turned heads as soon as she arrived.  Every woman stared at her with naked jealousy on their face, and whispered “slut” and “whore” at her.  Every man regarded her with obvious lust.

Ella felt her cunt wetten, as she had been conditioned to do from humiliation – and that humiliation was only deepened when she felt her fuckhoney begin to slowly drool down her inner thighs, in full view of everyone.

And then she saw the prince – and he saw her.  And once he had seen her, he couldn’t look away.

He went straight up with her and dragged her into a dance.  Ella didn’t know how to dance but the prince didn’t seem to care.  He whirled her around and around the dance floor, and whispered in her ear as he did so.

“I like a woman who knows she has nothing to say,” he said.  “You have very pretty udders.  I know you’re not very smart, being a woman, so just let me lead.”

Ella couldn’t say anything in response, so she just danced, and although the prince’s comments were degrading, it was the first time since her father had died that any man had seemed to *like* her, and she blushed with pleasure.

After a while, the prince dragged her away from the dance floor into a corridor.  He pushed her up against the wall, and extracted his cock from his pants.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he said – and then pushed his cock into her unprotected cunt.

Ella squealed into her gag.  It was the first time she had ever had a penis inside her, and she had absolutely no control over what was happening.

Moreover, the prince’s cock was such a good *fit* for her.  It was like her pussy had been specifically designed to perfectly match his length, girth and contours.  As it slid into her, she felt *whole*, for the first time in her life.

“God, you’re such a hot little bitch,” moaned the prince, as he began to rape Ella.  “I’ve never felt a pussy this good.”

Ella felt herself cumming – again, and again, and again – with every thrust of the prince’s dick.  Her eyes crossed, and she might have fallen if the prince hadn’t been pinning her against the wall.

And then finally the prince orgasmed, and flooded her womb with his sperm.  Ella had no way of knowing – but somehow, she was certain that she had just been impregnated.  The knowledge both thrilled and horrified her.

And then, at her moment of greatest confusion, she heard a familiar voice.

“What the hell is going on here?  Why are you fucking some trollop when you’ve barely paid any attention to my daughters?”

It was Ella’s stepmother, Gwen.

In a sudden burst of fear that she would be identified, Ella pushed the prince away, and fled, the prince’s cum still leaking from her twat.  She left the castle, and ran all the way back home, stripping off her dress and shoes mask and gag and collar and buttplug and leaving them on the castle stairs, so that they would not be traced back to her or the madam.

After the ball, everything seemed to go back to normal.  Ella’s stepmother and stepsisters never suspected she had gone to the ball, and they went back to torturing and raping her, even as Ella struggled with the knowledge that the prince’s child was beginning to grow in her belly.

But then it was announced that the prince had fallen in lust with a maiden that he had fucked at the ball.  It was said that her cunt perfectly matched his cock, and he desired to make her his wife and breeding sow.  The woman had been masked at the ball, and no one seemed to know who she was, so the prince was touring the kingdom and sticking his cock into every young eligible woman, until he found the cunt that so perfectly suited him.

This news thrilled Ella’s stepsisters.  They knew they weren’t the woman he was looking for, but they hoped to trick him.  They knew their heavily fucked cunts would not be tight enough to match his cock, and so they spent all day performing various exercises designed to strengthen their vaginal muscles so that they might squeeze his dick properly.  Each night Ella’s stepmother put her fingers into each of her stepsisters’ cunts, and if they did not squeeze her hard enough – as they inevitably did not – Gwen would beat their tits and tell them to exercise harder.  The sisters would then take out their frustration and pain on Ella, beating *her* tits and cunt, and even going so far as to piss on her face.

Slowly the prince made his way through the kingdom, fucking every young woman.  For some women, a single thrust of his dick into the girl’s pussy was enough to make a verdict.  For others, he fucked them until he ejaculated inside them, just to make sure.  For his favourites, he purchased the girls off their parents to add to the royal brothel, in case he wanted to sample their pussies again or share them with his friends.

A law was passed to provide that any bastards the prince might father as a result of this process would have no claim upon the crown or the prince – but that any man might fuck the mother of such a bastard without her consent, providing that they paid the mother a single piece of gold.  It was thought that this provision would adequately provide for the welfare of mother and child.  Further, any female offspring would be appropriated by the crown at the age of 18, along with their mothers, and a place would be found for them in the harems and slave quarters of neighbouring kingdoms, as much diplomatic goodwill could be bought with pretty slavegirls of noble blood, and mother-daughter sex pairs commanded an even higher premium.

Finally the prince came to Ella’s house.  With great pomp and ritual, the prince sank his cock into the cunt of each of Ella’s stepsisters – and, for the sake of completeness, Ella’s stepmother as well.

“These cunts are loose and stretched,” the prince proclaimed.  “None of you are suitable.  Do you not have any more women at this address?”

“No women,” giggled Ava.  “Only pigs.”

But the prince’s cock was harder than it had ever been, and he sensed what he was looking for was near.  

At that point, the brothel madam came running up.

“What do you want, woman?” asked the prince.  “I have already tested all your whores.”

“Your Highness,” said the madam.  “There is another woman at this address. You will find her inside the house.  And if she pleases you – please remember my assistance.”

“Another woman?” said the prince.

He strode into the house and found Ella there – naked, on all fours, scrubbing the stone floor using her bare tits.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s only Cunty Ella,” said Ella’s stepmother.  “Barely a person at all.  You can ignore her.”

“Cunty Ella?” said the prince.  “What an appropriate name.”  


 He grabbed Ella by her hair, and pulled her to the feet, and pushed her against the wall, and then he shoved his cock into her twat – which was well-trained to always be wet.

He sighed with delight.

“This is it,” he said.  “This is the cunt.”

He looked into Ella’s eyes – and then slapped her across the face.

“That’s for running away from me,” he said.

And then he began to fuck her.

“Brothel Madam,” said the prince, “you have done well.  How did you know of this girl?”

“I know of the prophecy, your Highness, that says one woman in your generation will be born to service your royal cock,” said the madam, “and I have some magical intuition, inherited from my mother.  It was my mother who found your father his wife – your own mother.  She had heard that your father liked to abuse the tits of buxom brunettes, and so she found a well-endowed brunette prostitute, and purchased her, and induced her to lactate, and trained her to be aroused by pain in her tits even as she cried from the pain.”

“That was your mother who found her?” asked the prince.  “Well done.  My father first encouraged me to beat my mother’s breasts on my 18th birthday, and it was a very arousing experience.”

“And so,” said the madam, “when I heard that you had a predilection for raping big-titted innocent blonde girls, and abusing them and humiliating them and treating them like objects, I thought of Cunty Ella here, who had been so well trained by her sisters to accept any torture and degradation and get wet from it.  I thought she must surely be the girl born for you.”

“She is,” said the prince.  “And I will take her home and wed her and breed her.  I already have a cage picked out for her to sleep in on the nights when I prefer some other whore in my bed.”

“But madam,” he added, “Cunty Ella is making little sounds when I fuck her.  When first I enjoyed her, she was gagged, and I believe I prefer her in that state.”

“Try this, your Highness,” said the madam, passing a ball gag to the prince.

“Excellent,” said the prince, gagging Ella, and then continuing to rape her.

As he neared orgasm, he looked into Ella’s eyes and said, “You are remarkably fun to rape.”

And Ella knew, right then, that that was the closest she would ever get to hearing a man say that he loved her.  And she chose to accept it on that basis, and let her heart flood with affection for this man who would become her owner and master.  She moaned into her gag, and bucked her hips against his cock, and sighed with delight as he ejaculated inside her.

For a big-titted slut like her, this was practically romance.  And as the prince packed her into a large wooden chest for transport back to the castle, she thought about her future of being a dehumanised fucktoy breeding sow for the prince for the rest of her life – and decided she would accept this as being as close as she deserved to living happily ever after.

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A Cinderella story - with a twist.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Madelyn’s Conservatorship, Part 9

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

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The inside of Uncle Sean’s house was even grander and more expensive than Madelyn’s own home.  The main entryway had a double stairway leading upwards to a second storey, but Uncle Sean immediately led the two girls off to one side, into a large drawing room with expensive wood flooring and panelling and long leather lounges.

The room was dominated by a huge photo, much like the one in the entryway of Madelyn’s home.  And just like at home, the photo depicted Madelyn’s mother.  In this photo, Stacy was completely nude, and kneeling and masturbating.  Her mouth was open, like a panting dog, and her face and breasts were covered with what was obviously semen.  It was more than one man could produce – it was clear that several men had ejaculated over her.  

The furniture, too, had a sexual theme.  The lampstands in the room were sculpted like naked women.  The coffee table was a sheet of thick glass, born on the back of a wooden carving of a nude naked woman on all fours, her tits hanging downwards. 

A customised ashtray holder sat on the table, which took the form of a nude woman lying on her back with her legs spread.  The ashtray itself was atop her face, obscuring her from the tits up, and the space between her spread legs was clearly designed for ashing out cigarettes, so that one would push their lit cigarette into her cunt to extinguish it.

Overhead, the light fittings hung from another carving of a nude woman.  This one was carved so as to appear in bondage, her arms and legs bound behind her, her breasts pointing downwards.  Her face was carved in an expression of anguish, and the light fittings were connected to her so as to appear to be hanging from piercings in her clitoris and nipples.

An array of pornographic magazines were spread on the table.  The uppermost one was titled “BITCH TAMER” and showed a nude woman in a pet cage.

As Madelyn surveyed all this, Great-Uncle Benjamin came in behind them, having parked the limousine, and looked at the two sad, sorry, humiliated young women.

“Honestly, Madelyn, stop being a whore,” he said.  “Take your panties out of your mouth and put them back on.”

Madelyn looked nervously at Uncle Sean for permission.

Benjamin sighed, walked across to Madelyn, and ripped the duct tape from her mouth.  Then he pulled the wet panties out of her mouth and gave them to her.

“Don’t look to your daddy for permission,” he said to her.  “A man is speaking.  Do as you’re told.”

Madelyn reached down to pull her skirt out of her pussy, but Benjamin slapped at her hand.

“No one said anything about your skirt,” he said.  “Just put the panties on.”

Blushing, Madelyn pulled the wet panties up her legs and snugged them into place over her groin, with her skirt still stuffed up her fuckhole.

“All right, girls,” said Benjamin.  “Let’s talk about the rules for your new life in my son’s house.  Number one: you are to call Sean ‘daddy’, and you are to refer to me as ‘sir’.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Avery immediately.

A moment later, Madelyn copied her. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, sullenly.

“You need to understand,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin, “that all the things you are accustomed to in your life are not rights, but privileges.  You have no rights.  And if you abuse your privileges, they can and will be taken away from you.  Privileges include eating, wearing clothes, and using the toilet . Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said both girls.

“The second rule is that you will get along with the other people in this house,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “There will be no bitchiness.  There will be no snark or sarcasm.  There will be no passive aggression.  These things will get you punished.  That goes between you girls – I expect each of you to be loving and friendly with your sister at all times.  Do you understand?”

Madelyn didn’t feel inclined to be nice to Uncle Sean or Great-Uncle Benjamin, but being nice to Avery would be no problem, at least.

“Yes, sir,” she said.  Avery chorused the reply along with her.

“Getting along means being affectionate,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “When you see your daddy, or your new brother Logan, or your sister after an extended period – such as first thing in the morning, or after they have left the house and returned – you will greet them by hugging them, and kissing them on the lips, using your tongue.  You will be enthusiastic in this.  Do you understand?”

“But… they’re all *related* to me!” objected Madelyn.  “It’s… incest, isn’t it?  It’s gross.”

Sean stepped forward immediately and slapped Madelyn across the face.  She squealed.

“Don’t talk to us about what is or is not perverted, young lady,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “You already seduced young Logan, and sucked his cock, and I believe you even tasted his piss.  I’m not inclined to hear your objections about merely affectionately kissing the people you’re required to live with.  You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll be punished.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Madelyn, pouting.

“You will also greet any visitor to the house in this way, male or female,” added Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The third rule is that you will dress attractively,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Now, I accept that both you young ladies have an affinity for teen fashion, which your daddy does not necessarily possess, so you will be allowed to choose your own outfits from the clothes available to you.  But I expect you to dress at all times – whether around the house or out in public – in a way that is pleasing to male eyes.  You should dress so that a man looking at you would want to fuck you.  If you fail to meet that standard, your privileges will be reassessed.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they answered.

Great-Uncle Benjamin looked at Sean.

“Sean, if you would provide them with the diaries and cameras, please?” he said.

Sean pulled out two pink journals and put them on the table – and with them, he placed a pair of Polaroid cameras.  The journals were labelled on the front in bright, happy letters.  One read “Madelyn’s Slut Diary” and the other read “Avery’s Slut Diary”.

“This is rule four,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “You have been placed in Sean’s care because of your whorish and perverted behaviour.  Correcting you will require properly understanding that behaviour.  From now on, you are to document all your sexual behaviour in these diaries.  You will make a note of any time you become aroused, any time you have a sexual fantasy, and any sexual activity you engage in including masturbation.  You do not have to note down when you kiss Sean, or Logan, or your sister – unless you become aroused by it, in which case I expect to see it there.”

Madelyn drew back in horror, and opened her mouth to object again – but then closed it, remembering the slap.

“Each evening you will show your diaries to Uncle Sean for him to read,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “If he detects any lies or omissions, you will be severely punished.”

He paused, and said, “Obviously we cannot see inside your heads, but you are teen girls, and we know you *do* have sexual fantasies, on a daily basis, and you *will* become sexually aroused frequently whether you want to or not, so if we don’t see a realistic number of perverted fantasies and wet cunts documented, we will assume you are being untruthful.”

“What are the cameras for?” asked Avery.

“Oh, yes,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Inside the diaries you will see that the right-hand pages are ruled up for you to document your behaviour, but the left-hand pages have a space for a picture.  When you retire to your bedroom, you will each take a photo of your naked body and attach it to the inside cover, to make it clear who the diary belongs to.  Then, on each subsequent day, you will spread your legs and photograph your naked cunt and attach it to the page for that day.”

The girls clearly didn’t understand, so Great-Uncle Benjamin went on.

“There’s research on this,” he said.  “For perverted young women, it can be hard to change their behaviour if they inherently think of themselves as nice and well-behaved.  Looking at multiple pictures of your cunt each day will help you to think of yourself as a person whose behaviour is mainly centred around the idea of pleasuring your pussy, which will help with your treatment.”

Madelyn still didn’t really understand, but she said, “Yes, sir.”

“Rule five is that you will not leave the house without permission,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Rule six is that you will do the housework that Sean assigns to you.  Rule seven is that you will attend the Stenway Academy for your further education, and complete any homework assigned to you.”

Madelyn shuddered.  The Stenway Academy sounded awful.

“And rule eight is that your use of phones and the internet will be regulated by your daddy, Sean,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “For the time being, you will have no access to your phones at all.  Once you have settled in, you will get your phones back, but first you will provide Sean with the passwords to all your accounts, and allow him to install some monitoring software on your devices.  And at that time, there will be a discussion about your social media, Madelyn, and how you can use it more appropriately.”

“But my social media is *valuable*!” Madelyn cried out.  “I’m *famous*!  People send me money!  If I don’t use my phone, I’ll lose fans!”

Great-Uncle Benjamin frowned.

“Avery,” he said, “slap your sister across the face for being a difficult bitch.”

Avery’s eyes widened.

“Go on,” said Benjamin.  “Either you can slap her, and choose how hard she needs to be slapped, or Sean will do it, and genuinely hurt her.  Your choice, Avery.”

“I’m sorry, Maddy,” squeaked Avery – and slapped Madelyn.

It wasn’t hard at all – but it still made Madelyn gasp.

“I expect you girls to be active in disciplining each other when you don’t live up to the standards I expect from you,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Now, Madelyn, what did you do wrong just now?”

Madelyn knew, but she didn’t want to say it.

When she was silent for a while, Benjamin said, “Avery, slap your sister again.  I suggest you slap her harder, to help prevent the need to slap her a third time.”

Avery slapped Madelyn.  This time it actually hurt.

“What did you do wrong, Madelyn?” asked Great-Uncle Benjamin.

“I talked back to you,” said Madelyn, in a sullen tone.  “I argued with you.”

“That’s right,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “I don’t want to see you arguing with *any* man, let alone me or your daddy.  Now thank your sister for disciplining you.”

“Thank you for slapping me, Avery,” said Madelyn.

“It’s okay,” said Avery.  “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise to her,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “She’s a girl.  Girls never deserve apologies, Avery.  Any time you feel like you might apologise to a girl, you should instead say, ‘You deserved it’.  Try it now.”

“You deserved to be slapped,” said Avery, awkwardly.

“Much better,” said Benjamin.  

He looked around, and then said, “Very well, I think that about covers it.  I’ll head home now, Sean, if you think you can handle the girls from here.”

“Absolutely,” said Uncle Sean.  “Logan should be home by dinner, and the girls should be settled in by then.”

“Very good,” said Great-Uncle Benjamin.  “Good luck, girls.  This is just the first step on the road to a happier, more fulfilling life for you both, I’m sure.”

And with that, he turned and left.

“All right, girls,” said Sean, when he was gone.  “Let’s take you to your bedroom.  You can relax, and get your slut diaries started, and then we can have lunch and spend some quality time together.”

Madelyn did not want to spend quality time with Uncle Sean.

But she was beginning to increasingly realise that she had absolutely no choice in the matter.

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If you love this story, you’ll love my novella Tuning Chloe, about a bratty daughter hypnotically adjusted into a submissive fucktoy – one choice at a time!  Your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of hot new content! (Click here to view Tuning Chloe in store.)

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Madelyn arrives in her new home at Uncle Sean's house.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Biocline Drug

The men of Biocline Laboratories faced a dilemma around their latest pharmaceutical creation – realise its commercial value?  Or keep it for themselves?  It was an easy choice in the end; the government was unlikely to allow the drug for public use, so the men chose to take it themselves.

It had the unusual effect of changing the chemical makeup of their semen – making it literally addictive.   

They had to pay their big-titted receptionist Melissa a lot of money to suck their cocks on the first two days to test the effects, but by the third day she arrived at work with a needy look in her eyes, licking her lips, casting furtive glances at her employers’ cocks, and she agreed to suck them off even when she was told she would no longer be paid to do it.  On the fourth day they just progressed to fucking whichever of her holes they felt like, letting her transfer their ejaculate from her cunt or ass to her mouth herself.

They soon discovered a second, unexpected side effect of the drug when Melissa’s already large tits swelled up an additional cup size and began lactating.  They told her she wasn’t to milk herself, to preserve the integrity of their data, and that if she did she would be denied cum for a day.   Really, they just liked the look on her face when she arrived each morning with her udders painfully full, desperate to be publicly milked into a bucket while she sucked her first cock of the day.

Eventually, the men decided it was time to find more test subjects.  They knew Melissa had a pretty big-breasted housemate.  “Take some of our cum home with you,” they told her, “and secretly mix it into her meals for the next three days.  On the fourth day, stop, and when she starts to go into withdrawal, tell her to come to work with you – completely naked – if she wants more…”

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You can find more stories of strange medicines and erotic experiments in my e-book Weird Science, available for only $3.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com! (Click here to view in store.)

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A new drug presents interesting possibilities.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Lesbian Registration

Keira had originally thought she might spend her entire life in the closet, denying her lesbian urges and pretending to be straight.  But when she met Bella, and they started flirting, and then kissing, Keira knew that she was going to end up fucking Bella – and if they got caught fucking unregistered, then they would both go to prison.

And not women’s prison – because it was felt that lesbians might enjoy such a place – but men’s prison, to be imprisoned with the men and used as their plaything.

It was, of course, legal for two women to fuck if a man was involved, and Keira and Bella could perhaps have signed a slavery contract with some reasonably attractive male friend who would let them kiss and rub their cunts together while he was fucking one of them.  But Bella was reasonably certain she couldn’t cum at all if there was a cock involved, and Keira wasn’t certain, so they decided that the short-term degradation of registration was worth it for a lifetime of legalised girl-on-girl sex.

The first step required Keira to fuck five men, so that she could be certain that she didn’t prefer cock.   One of those men had to be her father, to apologise to him for being a lesbian.  Three were to come from amongst her closest male friends, who the state felt she had probably cockteased with a promise of sex that she had no intention of keeping.  And the fifth would be a convicted rapist, to acknowledge that by not spreading her legs for men she was contributing to the frustrations that led to other women being raped.  

Fucking her friends was hard.  She wasn’t aroused for them, and they had to use lube, but all three were rock hard as they penetrated her, and all three ejaculated easily into her womb.  She saw the moment in each of their eyes where they stopped seeing her as a friend and started seeing her as something they’d fucked.  

It was legal to rape registered lesbians if you could make a convincing case that they’d cockteased you.   She wondered if her male friends would make use of that law to have a second turn with her in the future.  She suspected that they would.

Fucking her father was worse – not just because he was her father, but because for some reason Keira was wet for him.  And when he fucked her gently, calling her his baby girl, she orgasmed.  She didn’t understand it, and she cried with humiliation, and her father promised not to tell anyone.  It was okay – bisexuals were allowed to register as lesbians too – but Keira *wasn’t* bisexual, or at least she didn’t think she was.  Now she didn’t understand anything.

And then the rapist was the worst of all.  He slapped her and choked her as he fucked her, and called her a filthy dyke – and Keira orgasmed from that, too.  Her shame was overwhelming.

At the end of it all, Keira affirmed that she still *was* a lesbian, and she didn’t prefer cock, and so the registration process continued. 

She was booked in for a breast upgrade. All registered lesbians were required to have breasts of bimbo-ish porn star size, to provide maximum visual entertainment to the men they would never fuck, and they were also required to dress at all times in a sexually appealing manner.

Nude photos were taken of her with her giant new tits to display online, so that the men she was forsaking could at least enjoy her nudity and masturbate to her humiliation.

A pregnancy test soon confirmed she was pregnant, which was a relief, as otherwise she would have to keep fucking men until she was knocked up.  Lesbians were required to produce one baby, to fulfil their obligation to the continuity of the human race.

And finally it was registration day.  She sat nude in the government office and signed the various pieces of paperwork.   There was the document that acknowledged that, as a lesbian, she had no human rights.  There was the document where she gave up her right to vote.  There was the revocation of her educational qualifications.  There was a document for her to out any closeted lesbians she was aware of, so they could be investigated and jailed.  

Keira could have stayed silent here, but she named two lesbian friends she was aware of, as she couldn’t risk having her legal registration revoked if she was found to be complicit in their illegal lust.  And besides, if her information contributed to their arrest, she would be allowed to rape them as a reward, and they were both very hot.

And then finally she was formally a registered lesbian.  A medical officer came in and put a tracking and identification chip in her neck, and then tattooed a lesbian symbol above her cunt, along with her ID barcode.  She was awarded her registration papers – and then it was on to the traditional registration party.

It was a wild affair – a joint party between her family and friend, and those of Bella – and it culminated in Keira and Bella having their first legal sex on stage while everyone watched.  Bella had been dosed up on aphrodisiacs to help her get horny despite the men watching, and the girls rubbed their giant new tits against each other, and kissed, and then got down to the serious business of licking each other’s cunts.

And as Keira orgasmed from Bella’s tongue in front of everyone she knew, her huge fake tits bouncing happily, her greatest shame was the fact that she was remembering how good her father’s cock had felt inside her – and wondering if she could somehow make that happen again – and realising how much she wanted to see her father fuck Bella as well…

===

You can find more stories of degraded lesbians in my e-book Sappho’s Collar – Stories of Lesbians Used By Men, available for only $4.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  (Click here to view in store.)

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It was illegal to be a lesbian - unless you followed the state's humiliating registration process.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Foster Girl, Part 22

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One

===

Luna and Bill were the first to get ready for their date.  It had been agreed that Bill would take Luna to a restaurant at the other end of town, where nobody would recognise them as father and daughter, and Bill’s preparation was simple – a shower, a shave, aftershave, and his best suit.

Luna’s was a bit more complicated, mostly because she decided to uncharacteristically rebel against Jayna’s guidance.

“No!” she protested, backing away from her foster sister, hands extended.  “No, no, no!  I can’t!  I can’t do this!  It’s perverted!  It’s wrong!”

“But Luna, you *are* perverted,” said Jayna.  “You just spent all day masturbating to sexual fantasies about your father.”

“You *made* me,” protested Luna.  “You *made* me.  I don’t want those things.  I’m a nice girl.  Please.  Please, mistress.”

“If you didn’t want them, you wouldn’t have been able to get aroused,” said Jayna, reasonably.  “Nice girls simply aren’t capable of getting turned on by the idea of fucking their father, even if someone tries to make them.  You’re a *slut*, Luna.”

“I can’t wear this outfit on a date with my own father,” said Luna.  “It doesn’t have any panties.  And the skirt is so *short*.  And the top makes my breasts look…”

“It makes your breasts look pretty,” said Jayna.  This was a half-truth at best.  Mostly the figure-hugging push-up dress made Luna’s breasts look *big* – and drew the viewer’s attention to them mercilessly.

“I *can’t*!” wailed Luna.

“Now, come on,” said Jayna.  “Do you really deserve to wear panties, after masturbating all day?  I don’t think so.  And it’s not like I’m making you go out with a vibrator inside you.  Or wearing a collar and leash.  I *could*, you know.  Now, is this fight over, or do I have to make this harder for you?”

Luna looked at Jayna with big eyes, pleading for mercy.

“Don’t you fucking cry,” said Jayna.  “I don’t want to have to re-do your makeup.”

Luna bit her lip.

Jayna sighed.  “Fine, where’s a permanent marker?  I’m going to write ‘fuck me daddy’ above your pussy, just to make it more fun if your skirt gets flipped up.”

Luna made a squeak.

“No, please don’t!” she squealed.  “I’ll do it!  I’ll wear it!  I’m sorry, mistress!”

“That’s right,” said Jayna.  “I know best.  Remember, arguing with me just makes it worse.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Luna.  “I’m sorry.”

“Now, remember, you can’t call your father ‘daddy’ on a date, or people will think you’re weird,” said Jayna.  “So you call him ‘Bill’.  Okay?”

“Yes, mistress,” said Luna.

It was best, Jayna thought, if Bill wasn’t reminded that Luna was his daughter – to help him instead see her as a whore that was available to fuck.

“Remember to kiss your father on the mouth when he sees you, when you get out of the car, and at the end of the date,” said Jayna.  “And take this.”

She handed Luna a small index card.

“I want you to ask these five questions on your date,” she said.  “Make sure you do.  And I’ll know if you don’t.”

Luna’s eyes went wide with horror when she read them.

But she had learned her lesson.  Arguing with Jayna only made it worse.

===

Carrie was still in the backyard when Bill and Luna finished getting ready, and Mitch was in his room, gaming, so nobody but Jayna saw the reaction of father and daughter when they saw each other.

What Bill saw was his beloved 18-year-old daughter dressed like a prostitute, in five-inch heels, a tiny white miniskirt, and a tight top which made him look at her tits in a whole new light.

What Luna saw was a visible tent in her father’s pants.  She had sexually aroused her own father.  Again.

“Hello, Bill,” she said.  It sounded weird to her, to call her father by his first name.  “You look… really sexy.”  Jayna had made her say that.  She hated it.

“Hello, Luna,” said her father.  “You look very sexy too.”

She didn’t want her father to think she was sexy.  

But now she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around her father, pressed her tits against his chest and her groin against his erection, and kissed him on the mouth.

She felt her father push back, stabbing his erect cock against her, pushing his tongue into her mouth.  His hands were around her, and one strayed to her ass, and squeezed it gently.

She felt like a whore.  She felt like a disgusting, perverted slut.  Was this happening just because Jayna had made it happen?  Or was Jayna right, that this would never happen to a nice girl, and that Luna was naturally a slut?

They awkwardly went out to the car.  Bill took the driver’s seat, and Luna the passenger.  The car started, and they were on their way.

Jayna’s card had specified that Luna was to ask at least one of her questions on the car ride.  She surreptitiously consulted the card again.  They were all horrid.  She picked the second one.

“Daddy,” she said, forgetting she was to call him Bill.  She stared straight ahead as she spoke, not daring to make eye contact.

“Yes, sweetie?” said her father.

“If a man was going to fuck me,” she said, “do you think he’d prefer to fuck my mouth, my tits, my cunt, or my ass?”

Bill’s mouth fell open, and he almost crashed the car as he stared across at his daughter.  His immediate reaction was that Jayna had been right – his daughter had become a complete slut, and Bill simply hadn’t noticed.

“Ah…” he said, forcing his eyes back to the road.  “Um…”

“I really value your opinion,” said Luna.  “Unless you think that was a slutty question to ask?”

The card had recommended that phrasing if Bill delayed on answering.

“Well, uh, you have a very pretty mouth,” said Bill.  “And I guess a man would enjoy… using you there.  Your tits aren’t as big as some girls – although they look very nice tonight – but I don’t know if you’d have, ah, *enough* to make a man happy there.”

Luna blushed.  Her dad thought her tits were too small.  She felt so humiliated.

“And, ah, I guess some men would enjoy doing you in the.. well, in the butt,” said Bill.  “But I guess the, um, cunt is always pretty popular.  And girls your age – you’re supposed to be tight.  So… I guess men would prefer to fuck your cunt?”

Luna nodded, as if this had been an answer she desperately needed.  “Thank you, Bill!” she said, feigning cheerfulness.  Inwardly, she cringed with shame at the knowledge she had just encouraged her father to imagine fucking her pussy.

“You’re welcome,” said her father.

The ride continued, and Luna decided to ask another one of her questions.  After all, it would be less embarrassing here, in the car with just the two of them, than it would be at a restaurant with other people around.

“Bill,” she asked nervously, “what kind of girls deserve to be raped?”

Bill knew the “correct” response to this – that no girl ever deserved to be raped – and he might have answered in this way simply by force of habit, had not Jayna whispered to him that Luna deserved to be raped while playing with Bill’s cock only hours before.

He didn’t believe that, of course – Luna was his daughter – but he remembered how his cock had twitched as she said it, and how enjoyable it had been to play with that forbidden idea, if only for a moment.

And so instead of speaking, he paused, and considered the slutty way that his daughter was behaving.  Why was she asking him this?  

He looked across at her, and saw not the whorish mischief that Jayna so often seemed to convey, by a shy and fearful expression that contrasted erotically with her slutty outfit and the lewd nature of her previous question.

Could it be that she wasn’t committed to her new slutty persona?  Did she have doubts?  Was she worrying that if she went *too* far, that there might be consequences?

This might be an opportunity to stop this madness.  By offering a firm hand, he might be able to put Luna back on the straight and narrow.

And so he said, “Well, I suppose girls who are particularly slutty deserve to be raped.  Girls who, uh, dress to tease men and get their attention.  Girls who rub up against men and are inappropriately affectionate with them.  Girls who show off their breasts and wear tiny skirts.  Girls who always talk about slutty subjects.  Those girls deserve to be raped.”

Luna gasped.  She felt like she’d been slapped.  Her own father had just told her that she deserved to be raped.

Bill heard the gasp, but didn’t see her face, as his eyes were on the road.  He misinterpreted it entirely.  He had made Luna realise that she wasn’t behaving like a normal daughter right now.  And hopefully she would correct her behaviour – because when she kept calling him “Bill” and talking about sex, it kept getting harder to see her as his beautiful innocent daughter, instead of the nude whorish sexdoll that had filled his imagination as Jayna had stroked his cock today.

===

Luna stayed silent for the rest of the ride, thinking about how her father would prefer her cunt over her mouth, and how he thought she deserved rape, and in time they arrived at the restaurant – The Green Glade Steakhouse.

Luna felt exposed the second they got out of the car.  How could she have agreed to leave the house like this, in ridiculous heels and no panties, with her tits practically spilling out of her top?  This wasn’t an appropriate way to be dressed around other people!  But she was stuck with no option but to follow her father into the restaurant.

“Reservation for two under the name Bill,” her father said.

“Absolutely,” replied the maitre d’.  “I think we have the perfect seat for you and your…” – he paused.

“Oh, this is my…” began Bill – and then he paused and blushed.  “I mean, this is Luna.”

The maitre d’ smiled broadly.  “I understand entirely, sir.  Have no fear, we’re very discreet, and if I may say so, she looks quite expensive.”

Luna didn’t understand that remark until she had been led across the restaurant floor to a corner table and was about to sit – and then suddenly she wanted to run out of the restaurant in complete humiliation.

She couldn’t, though.  If nothing else, Jayna would punish her for not going through with the date.  So she sat, blushing, and waited until the maitre d’ had given them menus and left.

“Bill,” she hissed – carefully avoiding saying “dad” at the last minute – “he thinks I’m some kind of *sex worker*.  He thinks you’re paying me to have *sex* with you.”

Bill blushed.  “Well, it’s understandable given how you’re dressed, sweetie,” he said.  “But it doesn’t matter what he thinks.  Let’s just have a nice night.”

Luna felt that sense of impact again.  Her father had just told her that she looked like a whore.

She took the time to look at the menu, but it was all basically steaks, so she picked one at random and put the menu down again.

She had three questions left on her card.

“Bill,” she said, “what do you think about when you…” – she blushed, not sure she could say the final word.

“When I what, honey?” asked Bill, still browsing his menu.

“When you – you know,” said Luna.  But she had to complete the question or she would get in trouble from Jayna.  So she whispered.  “When you masturbate.”

Bill put the menu down sharply.

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question, honey,” he said.

“You mean for a date?” asked Luna.

Bill opened his mouth, and then closed it.  “Well, actually, it’s kind of a good question for a date.  I mean, a bit forward, maybe, but…”

Luna waited, hoping he would nevertheless decide not to answer.

But unfortunately her wish was not to be granted.

“Well, I guess I think about girls,” said Bill.  “Sometimes curvy ones, like your mother.  Sometimes thinner ones.  I like brunettes, I guess…”

Luna was a thinner brunette.

“Sometimes I just think about them teasing me,” said Bill.  “Rubbing against me.  Kissing me.”

As Luna had kissed him earlier that evening.

“Sometimes I think about them… sucking me.  Or I think about… penetrating them.”

Her father would prefer her cunt, she knew.

“Sometimes I think about… forbidden things.  I think all people do, from time to time.”

Forbidden… like fucking his own daughter.

“I have fantasies sometimes about… forcing women.”

He had told Luna she deserved rape.

“Being in control.  Punishing and disciplining women.  Making them cry, maybe.”

He wanted to rape her while she cried.

“Only women who deserve it, though.  Cockteases.  Sluts.”

Like her.

And then suddenly Luna was saved by the return of the waiter to take their orders.

“I’ll have the porterhouse steak, medium rare,” her father said.  “And the same for my… uh, partner.”

It seemed Luna wouldn’t get to order her own meal on this date.

“And a martini for me,” her father said, “and a Long Island iced tea for the lady.”

“That’s alcoholic,” protested Luna.

“You’re a grown woman,” said Bill, with emphasis, “and this is a date.  It’s fine.”

Luna opened her mouth, and closed it again.  At least this had brought an end to discussing her father’s sexual fantasies.

And then, when the waiter left, her father looked across the table at her and smiled.

“So what about *you*, Luna?” he said.  “What do *you* think about when you… you know?”

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Luna and Bill go on a daddy-daughter date.