Amanda had a momentary incongruous thought about her twin brother: “Well at least he’s not trying to fuck me.”
Not incongruous for the reasons you might expect. It’s not that he was her brother. The fact that he would fuck her if she let him had been long established.
No, it was incongruous because of what in fact he was trying to do at that moment. Really, what he had succeeded in doing. Which was arguably worse than trying to fuck her if you can believe it. At the moment she had her incongruous thought about her brother, she was in his room, lying on her back on his bed, naked, with her hands cuffed uncomfortably behind (and under her). Her right leg, meanwhile, was raised up along one of his bedposts. The reason it was raised was, it was secured to that post by rope digging into her ankle. Meanwhile, he himself had her left leg in one hand and some rope in the other, and was just starting the process of tying that leg up similarly to the right leg.
“At least he’s not trying to fuck me,” she thought again. It was hard to think anything else because of the horrific reality she’d have to face if she thought about what really was about to happen.
He was finished in short order, and gave her a wink. She muttered “fuck you” but what could she do? She had just submitted to being tied up ass and legs in the air, torso helplessly laying back, arms crushed uselessly behind.
He took off his belt, and she whimpered as she felt a burning sensation in her stomach. “Butterflies” if you like but so intense that it felt like an actual flame slowly eating at her.
“Connor,” she breathed, “I’m going to ask you once, please…”
But he held his finger up to his lips, and she knew better than to continue.
“Just like before,” he said, “you’re going to get two warning hits to calibrate, and then you’re going to stay quiet.”
She didn’t nod, she just gave up. A tear seeped out the outer corner of one eye, but she knew if she let herself cry now she’d be completely unable to maintain herself while he hit her.
Connor wrote, for just a moment, on a slip of paper. She knew he’d written a number. That number was how many hits he believed she could take without making a sound loud enough to trip the meter app he had going on his phone. From past sessions she knew, the most sound she could make before tripping it was, at the extreme, a quiet hiss. A very quiet hiss.
If she got through that number without tripping the alarm, great! They were done.
If she tripped the alarm before he got to that number then she was allowed to make all the noise she wanted but he would proceed to hit her triple that number.
She did not get to see the number he wrote down. She went into these sessions not know how many hits he expected her to take. She just had to take as many as she could manage. He wrote it down just to show her afterward so she’d know he was always truthful about it.
Each session so far had focused on one particular section of her body. (When she asked why, he just used that word again – “calibrating.” She understood the meaning of the word and thinking of its implications frightened her.) There had been sessions so far dedicated to: Her belly; her chest; her back; her ass; the backs of her thighs; the fronts of her thighs.
Today was inner thigh day. Hence the splayed legs.
This was the first time he’d ever restrained her like this. In past sessions he’d just started over if she moved too much and she was able to, at least after some false starts, keep it together. But at their last session he’d tried for her inner thighs, and she abso fucking lutely could not deal. No matter how many times she tried, her legs snapped together when she got hit, or her hands snapped forward, or she simply bent over and fell to the floor, curled up and crying.
Spread legs were just too clumsy a position to be able to maintain under the condition of being hit by a belt you are extremely unhappy to be hit by.
He’d promised he would make her learn to handle this, but in the meanwhile had concocted this solution. Now, on her back, her arms pinned behind, her legs spread and tied up in the air over her pelvis, there was no way she could block or escape.
He hit her. The first “calibration” hit. She was allowed to react however she liked. She reacted like this as the inescapable stripe of sting laid itself into her left inner thigh: “oh my god oh my god oh my goooooddd I can’t!”
Then the second hit. A bit harder, this time on the right leg, a bit closer to her crotch. She yelped and bent at the waist for a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed in, then released a slow growling “mmmmmmmm”. Then breathed again. Then growl-moaned again.
“So, that’s what it feels like,” said Connor.
“Uh huh,” cried Amanda helplessly.
“Better get composed,” he said, “It’s about to happen.”
“Wait wait just give me a sec—”
But no. He hit her again. On the right. Same pain as before but she knew she had to clam up right this instant or else she’d suffer so much more than she currently planned to.
The moment after he hit her, he looked at the phone laying on his chest of drawers beside him.
She had her eyes squeezed shut as she continued processing the pain from his first hit, and before she was ready—not that he ever asked her if she was ready—he landed his second blow, again on her right.
She held her breath, hard, until she knew she could breath without triggering the fucking phone. Connor spoke up: “You know you’re not allowed to close your eyes. You have to look at me.”
Gingerly she opened her eyes only to see he was already in the middle of landing a third blow, this time on her left leg. She almost yelped. She opened her mouth wide, gaping it open shut, open shut, as she contracted her knees and waist in a ridiculous and hopeless attempt to block the next hit.
He hit her again. On it went.
He spread the blows over the lengths of her thighs, intentionally bruising the entire area just as he had on all the other areas he’d covered in past sessions.
Though she was desperately, silently, quaveringly panting, she had managed to keep it together. At one point he’d looked up from the phone and arched his eyebrow at her. “You were right on the border that time,” he smiled, and bizarrely she appreciated his kindness in helping her set expectations.
He landed a blow, surely harder than any before, close, so close to her vulva. Too close. She shuddered and loudly, vocally gulped air before catching herself. Too late.
Connor laughed as she started to keen “Noooooooooo”.
“Dude,” he said, bringing the paper over to her and showing her the number. 47.
She’d lost count but knew she had to have made it to 45 or so. If she could have just held out for another couple of hits!
“Connoooor pleaheaheahease” she was pleading but he just asked, “So what’s 47 times three?”
She immediately started the head math, even as she cried. She knew she had to get this right and fast.
“Um fucking um… a hundred and twenty---no a hundred and forty—um. A hundred and forty one?”
“You were off by twenty one on your first guess so we’re adding twenty-one to the total, which is how many?”
“That wasn’t a guess! I was just thinking!”
“We’re up to how many?”
A growl, and then “A hundred and sixty two ASSHOLE.”
“Yup, and you made it to 46, so what’s a hundred sixty-two minus forty-six?”
“I made it to forty six?” she squeaked.
“Quickly!” he said
“Um uh fucking that’s haaaaard”
“I’m about to make it harder.”
“Wait wait.” She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on not saying her thoughts out loud. A hundred twenty something, but six is bigger than two, so a hundred and…
“A hundred and sixteen!” she yelled, momentarily pleased with herself until she remembered that meant she was about to get hit on the legs one hundred. And sixteen. More times.
“Yep!” he yelled gleefully and hit her leg again.
So, obviously we don’t need to go into the literal blow by blow so to speak. She started screaming immediately after that first hit, and as he proceeded to mercilessly thwack the belt up and down her legs approximately fifty eight times each, after each had already received about twenty-three stripes, her screams simply didn’t let up. She writhed, alternately contracting her knees and stiffening them straight, alternately spreading her legs wide and hilariously trying to close them, alternately yelling incoherently, trying for more dignified stretches of “mmmm—mmmmm—mmmmm,” and begging pitifully and hopelessly for him to stop.
He stopped when he had finished doing what he said he would do.
Amanda kept crying, her body wiggling out of her control like a dying flower.
He laid his head on the bed next to her, “You know what I’m going to hit next time, right?”
There was only one thing left really. “Connor,” she sobbed. “I will do anything. I will do anything. Starting right now today I will do anything. Please don’t hit me there.”
She would let him fuck her, she would take his cock in her mouth, she would become his sex slave, she realized in that moment she’d happily agree to anything and actually feel thankful. She simultaneously was revolted at herself for being in such a state.
Connor just grinned. “I’m really looking forward to fucking torturing your pussy, why would I settle for something less?”
He got up and started messing with the rope tying up one of her legs, while she sobbed and cried in fear and desperation.
One leg free, she just let it fall to the bed and tried to think about nothing. Tried not to think about what would happen next time he called a session. Tried not to think about how she had gotten herself into this situation, how easy it would have been to keep it from happening if she weren’t so stupid.
Connor said from his position at her other foot, “Oops. Shit.”
She looked up and could see he’d made some amateur error and the rope attaching her to the bedpost was now in a tight, immovable knot.
“Uh, heh,” he said. “Hang on I guess I need to go get the scissors.” He headed toward the door. Amanda faintly considered yelling after him to “fucking uncuff” her first but, only faintly. What was the point really. She just looked at the ceiling, simultaneously refusing to think about what it would feel like for a belt to repeatedly slam into her pussy, and at the same time obsessing fearfully over the thought.
Just as Connor was opening his door, Mom’s voice came from the hallway outside. “Kids! We’re home early!”
Connor slammed the door shut.
Dad laughed from the other room. “We love you too.”
“Uh… sorry!” yelled Connor through the door. “I just, didn’t mean to I.. I stumbled. I stumbled.”
A pause, then from Mom, “Ohhh kay. Where’s Amanda?”
Connor looked at Amanda wide eyed.
“Amanda? Have you seen Amanda today”
Amanda had to surpress the urge to cry. She couldn’t let anyone know what she’d gotten herself into and how. She swallowed a sob and said “Yeah, yeah mom I’m here too.”
“You’re in Connor’s room?” she said. “Are you two suddenly getting along?”
Simultaneously Amanda and Connor yelled, “Yes!”
“Okay!” Mom said, her voice fading a bit. She was walking away. The siblings began to sigh relief.
Then, louder, right at the door. “Are you two… are you two… You’re not smoking weed in there or something?”
“What?” Connor yelped. “No! Heh. Mom. That’s…”
“Amanda, you sound upset. You two have barely spoken a word to each other for weeks, don’t think your father and I haven’t noticed. What’s going on?”
The doorknob wiggled.
“And you’re locking your door? Okay what is going on in there? I know it’s drugs. You two are getting high.”
Amanda was quietly hyperventilating. “No Mom!” she yelled, her voice helplessly quavering. “I just was…”
“She was having a bad day Mom” said Connor. True.
Now Dad’s voice from right at the door. “I think you had better let us come check in, son.”
Connor was desperately fucking around with the knot around Amanda’s ankle.
“Um okay… just a second… I’m not….”
He shut up. Chagrined. Everybody knew he was about to say “I’m not decent,” while everybody knew his sister was in the room with him.
“Connor.” Mom’s voice again. “Stop stalling. Let us…” the handle jiggled more incessantly now.
“In!” she said and suddenly, because of course those inside door locks are worthless pieces of garbage, the mechanism slipped and she was able to open the door wide. Amanda was curled up hilariously hanging by her leg trying to hide her privates by strength of will alone. Bruises visible all over her. Connor was standing (fully clothed as it happened) at the bedpost, conspicuously letting go of the rope his sister was tied with. Mom and dad stared wide eyed into the room.
“Uh. Somebody’s not decent that’s for sure.” Her voice rose as she said this and rushed over to Amanda. “What is this? What did he…”
“She likes it!” Connor yelled.
Dad said from the door. “Excuse me?”
“She likes it!” he said again. “She asked me to do it. I was doing her a favor.” He gave her a desperate look.
Amanda was crying now, but that could have been out of pure embarrassment. Her mom said to her as she fumbled at the cuffs and then the rope, “Amanda, is that… You can tell me the truth you know. Is your brother telling the truth?”
Amanda kept crying, and said “Yehehehes.”
Mom stood up and she and dad had a long look between them.
“Have you two been…. How can I even ask?”
Immediately both snapped “No!”
Mom looked skeptical. “And this was… Amanda, this was… totally consensual?”
Amanda gathered herself up. “Yes mom. Um. I didn’t know who else to… um… ask… I guess.” It sounded so weird. But everything in the room right now was so weird, it seemed appropriate.
Mom made helpless noises. Dad now interjected. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m having a hard time with this. A hard time believing it.”
Amanda looked away, but said as assertively as she could, “It’s true dad. Don’t… don’t punish him please?”
She was still thoroughly fastened to the bed and totally handcuffed.
“We need to get you two into separate rooms I think,” he said. “We need to get more information before we decide what to do about…” he gestured at her state, then at Connor, then back. “This.”
Mom had appraised the knot by this point. “William, if you get some scissors we can cut her down, and Connor, where’s the key to the handcuffs?”
Connor gave her the key. Mom gently rolled Amanda over and began unlocking. Except it was taking some time. “What’s happening,” she asked as her mom kept fumbling around.
“Connor, I don’t think this is the right key.”
“What?” said Connor. “No, it is. Let me… er… I mean…” He then looked at Amanda, and said in his very best impression of concern, care, and respect, “Is it okay if I… do I have your consent if I…”
Amanda’s face could only be seen by him at the moment. She rolled her eyes, and said “Yes Connor. Please.”
Connor went around to her backside and took over from Mom.
“What the fuck?” he said. Then looked up at mom and said “I mean what the hell. The heck.”
“I told you you gave me the wrong key. Where’s the key?”
Connor stood up. “That was the key, Mom. There is no other key.”
“Connor what the fuck,” said Amanda from the bed. She didn’t bother to correct herself.
Dad was back by then, and he easily snipped the rope, freeing her legs at least. He gave the key a try as well but she seemed to be stuck in cuffs. Naked in front of her entire family for a while.
“It’s okay,” said dad. “I think I can saw it off. Amanda, come talk to me in the garage and we’ll get this straightened out.”
“And I,” said their mom, “Will have words with you here in your room, young man.”
“Mom it really is okay,” Amanda began, but mom interrupted. “No, even if you really did ask for it, this is really inappropriate. And I’m still not convinced. We’re going to talk to you two separately about this until we get to the bottom of it.”
Amanda and Connor looked at each other helplessly as Amanda gingerly, reluctantly, walked out of the room, hands cuffed behind her back, brushing against the top of her naked bottom. She headed to the garage and dad followed behind.
Mom shut the door behind them.
Once in the garage, he pulled up a random chair that was stashed in the corner. “Go ahead and sit down for a minute while I find the saw.”
She did so. She watched numbly as he puttered around in the tool shelves. She was sad to be thankful for this, but she was thankful he was very clearly engrossed in the work and not distracted by her.
“Found it!” he said cheerfully and turned back around with the saw in hand. He looked at her smiling, then seemed to think of something and averted his gaze.
“Dad, it’s okay,” she said. “You’re going to have to look at me anyway. We don’t have to be… weird about it.”
He nodded, and looked up at her. He pulled up a chair opposite her and put the saw on the ground next to him. She looked at the saw. “Are you going to…?”
“I gotta figure out exactly how to do it without hurting you. But can you please just tell me what was really going on in there?”
Amanda stiffened. “It’s what I said, Dad. I… like… getting hit like that.” She started crying, hoping this came across purely as embarrassment and not the incredible stress of telling such a horrible lie about herself. She very much hated getting hit like that. “I didn’t want to ask like, a dude at school…” She was improvising. “They would just tell everybody. So… I asked Connor.”
Her dad gave her a long look.
“I’m going to document what he did.”
“Huh?”
Voluntary or not, this needs to be documented in case… somebody needs to be called or something.”
“Uh, Dad you can write down whatever you want, I just need these handcuffs off.”
“I’m still thinking about that,” he said, and reached into his pocket and brought out his phone. “So I’m going to take pictures of what he did to you.”
Amanda went white. “I really don’t want,” she started crying yet again. “Can we please not?”
“He could say we were lying, anyway it’s a crime I’m guessing. If we need to go to the police we need to be able to show them and uh… you probably aren’t wanting to get naked in front of a bunch of police officers.”
Amanda closed her eyes and tried to breathe calmly. “Okay,” she said. Not feeling okay, but convinced she could get through this. Her dad was so stupid. But he was the type of guy who once he got his mind set on one way to solve a problem, by hell that was how he was going to solve it. She just had to let it happen and it would be over.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to make this quick and… well anyway. Go ahead and stand up.”
Standing up put her pussy at his eye level. For a moment his gaze met her vagina but just for a moment, he quickly was looking down at her legs. He leaned in with his phone, and clicked. Flash. One pic of the front of her right leg.
He took another then, she could only assume as she rolled her eyes that it was for a backup copy or some shit.
Two clicks. Pics of her left front thigh.
Two clicks. Pics of her tummy.
Two clicks. Her eyes were still closed but she could tell from the sounds about where he was in relation to her. He’d just taken two pictures of his daughter’s bare, bruised chest.
Then two more clicks and she realized, those had been two pictures of her righthand bare bruised chest. Now he was taking pics of her lefthand bare bruised chest.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Turn around?”
She did so. Two clicks for her upper back. Two clicks for her lower back. Two clicks for her left butt cheek. Two clicks for her right butt cheek. Two clicks for the back of her right thigh. Two clicks for the back of her left thigh.
“Okay,” he said again. I have to figure out… can you…”
“What?” she said, almost angry but trying to stay calm.
“Spread your legs. A little.”
Holding in her frustration, she spread her legs.
“Uh. A little more? I can’t get the right angle…”
She spread them more, an exaggeratedly large amount in fact. Trying to be sarcastic with her naked body language in front of her dad—she’d never thought this would be her life.
Two clicks. Under her right inner thigh. Two clicks. Under her left inner thigh.
Two more clicks right in the middle. She quickly stood up straight. “Dad!”
“I needed to document that he didn’t hit you there.”
“Why?” she asked, somehow annoyance being the main emotion when her brain told her she should be appalled and devastated. But he was just, again, so stupid. So fucking annoying.
“Just, maybe it doesn’t matter but I was just trying to be complete.”
Petulantly she moved on to “Okay have you figured out how to get these things off me yet?”
“Yeah I think I have an idea,” he said, and she could hear him, still behind her, getting up to a sitting position.
She felt his hand on her shoulder, and prepped herself for being guided into some position or other where he could get the saw into place to hack off the chain.
Then she felt his other hand, reaching from behind her other side, touching her cheek – the one on her face—rather roughly.
“Uh what,” she began, when she also felt from the same arm, his elbow squeezing into her ribcage a bit. And something… something was on her lips, something metal kind of poking in from the sides?
She jerked back from it, not caring if she hit her dad’s face with the back of her head. “What are you…?”
And he was holding onto her even more tightly. “Open your mouth,” he said.
“What?” she panicked, and as she said the word that metal thing, whatever it was, went in. She tried to jerk back, to get it out, but he had his hand in position now and kept it in her mouth.
It felt huge. Incredibly invasive. She struggled and screamed. How was this fucking helping her get her handcuffs off?
Something pulled her face back and then his hands were no longer at her face. She felt something tighten, around her cheeks, to the back of her neck. She continued to struggle but between the handcuffs and whatever he was doing to hold her head so tightly by the mouth from behind, she could barely accomplish anything without feeling like she might fall over and break her neck.
A snapping noise, and he let go. She was free, sort of. Able to locomote, but unable to fully close her mouth. She tried to yell “What are you doing?” but it just came out “Uh ah oo oowee?”
Now facing him, she saw a look on his face she didn’t quite understand. He was just being efficient. That was the only word that came to mind. He reached forward and grabbed her under her arms, his hands back up at the sides of her face. She kicked but to no avail, just kind of flopping around while he held her in place in the air suspended by her shoulders.
She felt her mouth opening more. This was not her doing. With her tongue she could feel there were four metal rods going into her mouth, two meeting near the back of her cheek on one side, two meeting in the back of her cheek on the other side. Something her dad was doing was forcing those rods to separate, forcing her mouth more and more open. She yelled, her face right in his as he concentrated on his work. The spreading of her jaw was starting to hurt.
When she was afraid her jaw might literally disclocate her yelling became desperate screams. He stopped very shortly thereafter but it seemed to have nothing to do with her noises. He was just finished with the task.
He fairly gently lowered her. She just stood there, screaming, her mouth gaping open uncloseable, her arms helplessly still confined behind her.
“Go to your knees Amanda.”
She could hardly understand even though he was perfectly clear. She implored him with her eyes.
“I don’t want to make you go to your knees but I will. You need to get down on your knees now.”
Sure she would pass out from what felt like total hyperventilation, she nevertheless did her best. Softyl going to one knee, then lowering the other one to the floor as well.
“Good,” he said, and he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. In disgust as his dick came obscenely flying out fully erect, she inhaled a huge choking snort of a breath and got ready to bolt but too late. He had her by the hair.
She struggled still, pulling away.
He leaned down to put his face near hers. “This will be over in just ten or twenty seconds if you let it.”
She tried to say “Fuck you” but with her mouth fully, maximally stretched open it was just “Ah Ah.”
“This is just a quick procedure. I just want to show you one thing. And then it’s over. Unless you make it take longer. Unless you make it hurt.
Again, “Ah ah!”
He sighed and stood up, the fucking pink skin stick once again in her face.
And before she could react it was inside her mouth.
She tried to shrink back but he tightened his grip on her hair and muttered again “Ten or twenty seconds Amanda. Just be still.”
Out of shock more than any desire to cooperate, but yes also because she was scared of what he meant when he talked about “making it hurt,” she became still and tried to just be as passive as possible.
“There,” he said, “Good girl.” And he pushed himself deeper into her mouth.
She couldn’t breath. Her dad’s dick was clogging her air way. He held her firmly in place though as she choked and panicked. “Listen to me Amanda,” he said. “Do you feel how my penis is inside your throat, and your teeth are not touching me at all?”
She choked and coughed mightily.
“Keep feeling that,” he said, and she continued to fail-cough around her dad’s dick in her throat.
Could she fucking die this way? What the fuck was happening?
He then let her go. She exploded backwards, falling on her ass, rolling over and coughing up huge amounts of phlegm.
Her dad, pants redone, squatted down on one knee next to her. “Did you hear what I said?”
She had. It was registering on her now what he had said. She nodded.
“So you know a man’s penis can go all the way into your mouth, into your throat, without feeling your teeth.”
Amanda was weeping. “Ahh ahh hahhh.”
Dad seemed satisfied. “Okay,” he said snappily. “That’s done then,” and he reached for her head again. She flinched back and he pulled back. “I’m just going to take that gag off.”
She still flinched when he reached forward again but made herself stay in range. He did exactly as he said. He then stood up and guided her up to standing as well. “Alright, let’s get back with your mom and brother and see what they’ve figured out.”
Unable to turn her brain off and desperately wanting to, she walked forward. He walked behind her, his hand on her shoulder this time, firmly guiding her towards the door.
As she passed by the two chairs they’d been sitting on, she could see the metal hacksaw still in its place on the floor beside her dad’s chair. It was broken, one end of the blade completely detached. Cutting through a chain had never been even slightly in the cards.
Somehow that small detail, out of everything else happening, was the thing that made her knees go weak with grief. She fell to the floor, wailing. “From the get go” was the incongruous thought that went through her head. She had been doomed from the get go. She had known. But now she could see.
Her dad let her cry as long as she wanted. When she became more quiet, he gently guided her back up to standing, and resumed his hand’s guidance on her shoulder.
As they approached the door her dad reached forward to open it for her and pushed it wide. Amanda hopelessly walked forward. She heard him before she saw him—heard her brother’s weird desperate pleading moan. Heard her mom’s whispers. Heard her brother’s quiet grunt, then his assenting, hapless mmhmm as she rounded the door and then stopped at her father’s hand’s behest. She could see now why those noises had happened. She was somehow still shockable after all she’d been through. She quietly whispered, “Oh my fucking god.”
***
Mom closed the door behind them as Dad and Amanda left for the garage. Connor stood in the middle of his room, feeling like he was floating. Some part of his mind was trying to be ready for anything—and in doing so, managed to shut itself down into a state of being ready for nothing at all.
Mom turned from the door to face him, and for some reason she was smiling now. He might have expected a wry or sarcastic smile, a “you’re in trouble” smile. But that was not what it was. The smile was motherly. Sparkling. Maybe wistful. It registered: It was the same smile he’d seen her give when he put on his high school graduation gown at the school uniform store.
She walked softly past him and sat on his bed. “Uh, are we going to talk?” he finally said.
She reached down and took off her socks. “No, not right now. Not at first.”
“I don’t understand.”
She sat up and pulled her skirt front toward her, revealing the entirety of her legs and underwear to her son.
“Uh mom I can see…” He looked away towards the floor. He knew she knew. He didn’t want to know that.
How he didn’t know what was happening next is a silly human mystery, but yes indeed, she then pulled her underwear down to her ankles, then off, and tossed them to the other side of the bed. Her skirt hiked up as she sat, she spread her legs. “Come here Connor.” She beckoned, literally beckoned.
Connor just stood there covering his mouth.
Mom laughed but said somewhat sternly. “Connor you are about to have a Very. Good. Night. There are just a couple of ways to mess this up. Not coming over here right now would be one of them.”
Still Connor stood there speechless.
Mom sighed. “Oh my god kid.” They still got referred to as “kid” regularly, especially when being criticized. It was just how their parents talk. “’Messing this up’ means your dad and I string you up and beat your testicles long past your begging point.”
Connor had no thought of advancing towards his mother but the part of his brain responsible for testicle protection had that thought for him very effectively. Hardly aware of it himself, he was walking forward slowly.
As he came close to her she smiled up at him and continued. “Hitting your poor crotch over and over, just like you were planning to do to your sister.”
He had presence enough of mind to widen his eyes and ask, “How did you kn—”
She reached forward and grasped him by the hips. Pushing downward she said “Okay Connor, on your knees.”
He fell as much as voluntarily went down, catching himself on the bed, his arms on either side of his mom, his face looking directly at her pussy.
He felt his mom’s feet behind him, pulling her in.
He heard a scream from the garage. He started to turn, bizarrely concerned given what he’d just been doing to the owner of that scream maybe twenty minutes ago.
His mom caught his face mid turn and turned it back.
“This is first, Connor,” his mother murmured. “This is what you’re doing right now.”
He sunk down. He smelled her, perfumed yet gently meaty. He shrunk back. “Mom what is happening.” Despite himself he felt himself starting to cry.
She relaxed her grip on him momentarily. She lifted him up by the chin. “You know what is happening. You are going to have a very good night. But for that to happen, it is an absolute requirement that you do this first.”
He sniffled. He felt silly, and somehow even as it was sinking in that his mom was about to rape his face he just wanted to reach up and snuggle into her chest and cry.
“This is hardly as bad as what you made Amanda do. Don’t disappoint me.”
He swallowed. He thought about these words. He felt them hit. He was being really hypocritical. There in front of his mommy’s pussy he could see this now. How stupid to be so disappointing.
He opened his heretofore closed eyes and now when he saw what was before him, he saw that it was inviting. That he deserved it. That this was his place. How could he have questioned that?
He leaned forward to kiss what was increasingly, just in the course of these few minutes, coming to feel like something precious. Sacred.
His mother sighed her satisfaction at his conduct. And so he continued his kiss, and knowing his duty, found her most holy spot. His mother’s legs tightened behind him and she gave a louder moan-sigh of satisfaction as he proceeded to show his sudden new-found devotion.
***
To describe what Amanda saw as she rounded the door hearing those odd desperate grunts and squeals from her brother: She saw him, naked, on his back, on his bed, leaning backwards into the bosom of their mother, also naked. Her legs were wrapped around his from behind. Her mouth was at his ear alternately kissing, licking, and whispering. Her hands were reaching around, one to his chest, rubbing and rubbing at his nipples, one very lightly periodically touching, sometimes barely stroking, his cock. She was smiling, looking almost drunk with lustful power. He, on the other hand, seemed utterly desperate. His pelvis was thrusting up and down, his cock searching for something, anything, to be inside of. But there was nothing in the vicinity but the teasing hand of Amanda’s—of his—mother.
He had made his mother orgasm much more quickly than he expected. He was very puzzled by his internal response—he recognized disappointment, and could not make sense of that. As she relaxed post orgasm, she leaned forward and lifted him up.
She unbuttoned his pants and started to slide them down.
“Take off your clothes” she said, and began to take off her own.
“What are we going to…” he trailed off. There had been a lot of trailing off tonight.
She just smiled, then chuckled a little at his dumbfounded look as she slipped off the last of her clothing. “Well, we’re not going to fuck if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Okay… not that I… wanted to.”
“You’re moving too slow” she laughed and began helping him.
And true to her word, they didn’t fuck. She moved him into the position Amanda found them in. She whispered into his ear that he should just relax. He tried to relax but that was difficult once she started playing with his nipples, and then his dick.
He made one gallant show of trying to get up but she gently pressed him back into place up against her bosom, and he gave in.
She began masturbating him fully with her hand while breathing into his ear and licking his neck. Finally he started pumping back, and after several minutes knew it was about to happen.
And then she stopped. Hands completely off. Left him cold, just laying on her.
“What… did I… are you…?
She didn’t respond verbally. After many seconds, she gently placed her hands back where they’d been. But she no longer fully masturbated his dick—she simply touched it. He twitched and she lifted up. She stroked his testicles a little. He squealed—squealed, naked on his mother as she was stroking his testicles. She stopped, just worked on his nipples with her hands for a while, then reached down once more and gave his dick a single stroke on one side, then the other, then right down the center.
He went like this: “AaaAAHaaAAAHHaaaaAHHHH”.
She stopped. He could hear that she was smiling as she continued kissing him on the ears and neck.
“I’m not going to make you cum,” she whispered, very lightly stroking his penis once as she said it.
“You’re… you’re not?”
His penis went slightly soft, which he hadn’t thought possible in his desperate state.
His mom laughed quietly, “mm hmm hmm,” and opened her hand up down there to take him in more fully, like before. She once again started masturbating him.
“No, I’m not,” she said as she continued using her hand like a pussy on his dick. “I’m just here to keep you hard.”
As he began to spasm in preparation for an imminant orgasm, she stopped. She had her timing fucking down.
He went like this: “Ah. Ah. Aaaah. Hahhhh.”
So after quite a bit of this, when he felt like his entire mind and body had been taken over by desperation—but also knew, in the back of its thoughts, that when it finally happened it would never be as wonderful as this bizarre teasing from his mom—it was then that his sister walked back into the room, their dad’s hand on her shoulder.
He had a sudden desire to hide which he kept completely surpressed. Instead, the energy of that impulse apparently went into his dick because it lept between his mother’s fingers.
She just kept playing with him, and Amanda, apparently, was just going to stand there watching him. Watching them.
Then his mom whispered in his ear—whispered, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do you see the bruises on your sister’s breasts.”
Connor felt himself blushing, his face stealing a bit of blood from his dick.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“They are beautiful bruises. You did a wonderful job.”
A stroke to the cock.
He could see Amanda’s face subtly shift from shock at his predicament to shock at her mother’s words about her.
“The bruises on her tummy?”
“Yes I. Yes I see them.”
Another stroke to the cock and he twitched. Then she said “Your father and I are very proud of you.”
A second stroke and he hissed. He almost came.
Amanda apparently couldn’t help herself, she spoke. “Mom what the fuck? What the fuck?”
Immediately her dad’s hand on her shoulder shoved her around to face him. “You do not speak,” he said firmly. “Speak again without permission and there will be consequences.”
Dad and daughter stared angrily at each other while his mom continued playing with his body. Then daughter turned around, mortification overtaking her scowl.
A whisper from his mom, “The stripes on her legs?”
“Yes?”
“Who made those stripes?”
“I… I did.”
A few strokes to the cock and balls.
“Her pain is your pleasure.”
How could mere words make him almost cum? He was involuntarily thrusting again.
“Is her pain your pleasure?”
“Yes,” he whispered, looking at his sister’s face and body as he did so. She was crying now.”
“Do you see her tears?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do.”
“When she cries it’s because you did good.”
“Okay,” he said dumbly. Fucking about to cum again.
His mom laughed. “If you cum before I tell you too, this night will become a Very Bad Night for you.”
She stroked his cock the entire time she was saying that, capriciously making it practically impossible for him to hold back. But he did.
“Good,” she said.
The next fifteen or twenty minutes continued like this. Amanda was made to turn around while her mother and brother admired the bruises on her back, her legs, her ass, and her brother was mercilessly praised and encouraged over them.
She was then made to put one leg up on the bed for them to view the bruises on her inner thigh. Then the other leg.
She protested none of this any more. Things were long past that. She didn’t even protest when her mom told her quietly to stand on the bed in front of them and spread her pussy lips open to show them her vagina and clitoris.
“Do you see any bruises on her vulva?”
“N… no?” said her brother.
“Or her clitoris? Is her clitoris bruised?”
He almost seemed to examine it to check. “No.”
Nevertheless, gentle pressure on the testicles followed by a few strokes to the cock.
“Her pain is your pleasure.”
His whole body spasmed. He almost lost it.
Mom smiled at Amanda—smiled!—then nodded at her dad behind her.
She was still standing on the bed. Her dad gently pulled her hand downward, while pushing her forward gently, and so she perceived she was to go on her hands and knees on the bed, not to stand on the floor.
Her dad was continuing to gently push her forward, his hand on her ass.
“Remember what I taught you in the garage” he said. She was puzzled for several seconds, not because it was objectively hard to remember. She just couldn’t think.
Her mom and brother’s tease orgy was getting closer to her. To her face.
Her dad kept pushing her forward, then with his other hand, he was pushing her face downward.
Towards Connor’s cock.
She finally resisted. She tried not to cry, but she did, loudly.
“Open your mouth,” said her dad while she cried. She could hear her brother grunting in now unembarrassed desperate anticipation.
She continued to cry, loudly, but opened her mouth.
She was pushed down onto her brother’s cock. It invaded her mouth hungrily. Her brother baldly thrust upward, fucking into her face ready finally to cum.
Mom laughed and in the same quiet tone she’d been using, said “Calm down, not quite yet.”
As his sister’s mouth sat still around his cock, her tongue seeming to try to avoid contact (completely failing obviously), his mom continued. “Let your father guide her for now, you stay still. And tell us the moment you feel her teeth.
“I feel them right now,” he said immediately.
Abruptly, his sister was lifted off of his cock and her face was shoved roughly into the mattress in front of him. His dad held up a black rod. Had he had that in hand since entering the room? Connor couldn’t remember. He watched transfixed as his mom continued lightly stroking him, and his dad brought the end of the rod towards the back of his sister’s legs as she protested, muffled, into the blanked her face was shoved into.
The rod made contact, there was a snap, and Connor now heard, after a shocked pause, a scream from his sister’s mouth like none he’d ever evinced from her in their sessions.
Giving her no time to recover, her dad pushed her face back up towards her brother. “Open your mouth or I do it again.” She immediately obeyed.
Dad began working his daughter’s face up and down her brother’s cock. He layed back and enjoyed it for several seconds, did his best to relax and not thrust back in order to fulfill his mother’s command. He felt slightly amazed that in fact, he could not feel her teeth this time. Dad had her at the right angle, such that as long as she opened wide enough, he could get straight into her throat with no interference or scratching.
Ironically just as he was thinking about this he felt them lightly brush a spot at the base of his dick.
“Teeth teeth teeth” he said.
And once again his sister was pulled off of him. “No, no Connor!” his sister cried as though her begging could reverse time. The rod went to the back of her other leg this time. Amanda screamed just as loudly as the first time but the scream was quickly muffled on his cock.
This time it just took a couple of seconds. “Uh,” he said. His mother said into his ear as she continued massaging his nipples, “Yes Connor?”
Why did his mother saying his name somehow send an additional sexual thrill through him he hadn’t yet felt?
Anyway! “Uh, Well. She used her teeth again.”
Literally still gagged by his cock, Amanda wailed at these words. Dad yanked her up. “No please I’ll be good!” she yelled. “Connnor please, please tell them I’ll be good.”
Connor was taken aback by her desperation. It was beginning to sink in how much agony that rod must be putting her through.
He loved it.
But a part of him thought he should say, “You… it’s okay, she can try again.” And he did say that.
Mom just whispered, “Her pain is your pleasure.”
He considered these words for a moment. Then he smiled at his horrified sister, and said, “Oh yeah. I had forgotten.”
The rod seemed not to go to either the right or the left, but right into he center. But not between her legs—it was higher than that, between her ass cheeks.
When the loud cracking sound happened he watched her face as it went from fear and desperation to some kind of realization that she had perhaps just felt a little bit of what hell is like. She had been screaming for the first two uses of the rod. The noise she now made was hardly even a scream. Though the snap lasted just an instant she went on with that primal animal noise as though it were happening forever, happening again and again. And in a way, in her mind, it probably was.
“Imagine that kind of pleasure,” said his mom into his ear, clearly referring to Amanda’s pain.
“Forever,” she finished her sentence.
And once more Amanda’s face was shoved onto his cock. Amazingly, for what he was fairly sure was a first time blowjob for her, she had learned her lesson. He did not feel her teeth again.
After a few minutes of forced still ness while his sister was forced to fuck his cock with her face, his mom said into his ear, “You are free.”
He grabbed his sister’s hair so fucking hard at that point. He shoved his dick down her throat and within three cruel pumps, was emptying himself into her esophagus.
He nearly passed out, as did she for an entirely different reason.
On releasing her she fell to the floor quietly coughing up the contents of her throat. She wasn’t quite vomiting, just massively choking up semen, spit and phlegm.
He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. He just lay back into his mother completely relaxed, fully conscious but in a state of such total relaxation and satisfaction it was almost a kind of unconsciousness. His mother stroked his hair and held him. His dad crouched down beside his suffering daughter and stroked her arm. She shrunk back, actually yelled “Fucking stop. Fucking get away.” Between heaves and sobs.
Dad continued the imitation of a comforting gesture nonetheless.
***
After a while, he did fall asleep for at least a few minutes. The next thing he knew, his mother was awakening him. He looked around, remembering where he was and what had been happening. His sister had moved. She was sitting on a chair in front of his desk. Her arms were still handcuffed behind her. In front of her on the desk was a laptop. There was another chair and it was to that chair that his mom asked him to go. She said the laptop was set to play a video that would probably answer all his questions.
He knew he should have questions. He couldn’t think of a way to articulate any of them. How could he think?
In a daze, he sat naked next to his naked and handcuffed sister. He looked at her and she avoided looking at him. “Do you… have questions?”
Now she did look at him. There was fury in her eyes, but also surrender.
“I have a million. Fucking.” And she was careful not to shout but somehow her half whisper came across as a shout. “QUESTIONS.”
Their dad hit a “play” button at the top of the screen, then went to lay on Connor’s bed with his wife to watch from behind, while Connor and Amanda began to watch the video that would explain.
A title card popped up.
AWAKE, O SLEEPING GODDESS, AND TO HER ETERNAL PRIEST, HAIL!
CODEX I: WELCOME TO YOUR ORIENTATION