Finally, it was here… summer. It was only a short reprieve, I suppose; but, for a few weeks I had no worries, no deadlines, no responsibilities. Summer was for nothing but fun. Too soon college would be here. Until then, I planned on relaxing by the pool, after sleeping in every day. That was my plan anyhow, but, we all know what they say about the best laid plans.
The first day started off well enough, I slept in until about ten — waking for a small breakfast, before returning to my room for the newest of my swimsuits. This one I had kept hidden away, because I was sure my father would have a fit if he found it. It barely covered the important areas, perfect for the minimalist of tan lines.
Stretched out on the lounger, my music drowning out any sounds around me, my eyes drifted closed to better enjoy the sun’s warmth against the oil-shimmering expanse of my nearly naked body. I knew I had hours before dad returned from work; I had an alarm to ensure that was not going to be a concern. Before long, I drifted deeper, letting sleep fully claim me.
I was not really quite awake, even as my eyelids tried to drift open, feeling a coolness over part of me. Trying to figure out where the shade was coming from, having thought I was far enough from the few trees in the yard to remain in the sun for most of the day. Blinking a few times, I finally had adjusted enough to see my dad standing over me. The look on his face contained anger, beyond a doubt; anything more, I did not quite grasp.
It took him a moment or two, before he spoke. And with the breaking of the silence, he also seemed to come out of the motionless trance he was in, reaching down with one hand and firmly grasping my arm, yanking me up off the lounger. Dragging me into the house, the entire way venting about my choice of bikinis, my lewd display, my lack of decency. I had known all along he would react this way — I had just tried to keep him from knowing.
I tried to counter his statements… it was our fenced backyard, no one was home, no one could see. Not that I wanted to discuss it with my father of course, but, I did even try and refute his harsh words when he started raging on what a slut I must be, to dress like that. I had barely even been kissed, let alone anything else. Not that I had not heard most of my friends and others discussing how far they had let this boy or that one go. Some had even lost their virginity. It was not like I was a priss or anything — I just had not found anyone that stirred that much need within me.
His fingers becoming a bruising grasp on my arm as he finally stopped in the middle of the living room. I nearly fell as he yanked once more on my arm; forcing me to face him. Leaning down from his over six-foot height, bringing his face down close to mine, I could feel the heat of his breath as he continued ranting. Interspersing disparaging comments about me with those of my mother. She had left when I was very young; I do not really remember much about her.
Even with his attention so focused on me; I heard the front door. I was confused for a moment, until I heard my brother’s voice calling out; he was not supposed to be home for another week yet. I was hoping this was my much needed reprieve; but, fate it seemed was not listening in for my call. Instead, stopping in the middle of what he was saying, my father called out to him.
Within moments, my brother rounded the corner. I looked to him, pleading for intervention. I already knew it would not be forthcoming, he had sided with my father on everything for as long as I knew. Even when it would have meant nothing to stand up for me; he never had. Instead, he just shook his head, already adding his own scathing comments about my bathing suit.
My father just shook his head; starting in on the part of the lecture that included how he had done his best, tried to teach me the proper behavior, tried to instill morals in me. I knew at least he was winding up at this point. I tried to pacify him, making comments regarding how I would try harder, would behave, on and on. But, at the point when he should have started in with the punishment, I was guessing weeks of grounding or no cell phone, he did something I had not even expected.
Dragging me from the middle of the living room, over toward the large couch, he sat down and began to drag me over his lap. For the first few seconds, I was stunned; and then I began bahis firmaları trying to rise up. His hand spread out over my back, another over my thighs. He began some rant about how I never behave so badly as a child, back when he used to spank us both for any transgression. It was only now that I supposedly thought I was too old for such punishments; that I suddenly started acting out of control.
I was fighting as well as I could through the shock of it, kicking and hitting at him. I had almost gotten off the plane of his thighs when I felt another set of hands. It must have been my brother, grabbing at my ankles, capturing them in his strong grasp. My father then reached and shackled my wrists in one of his hands.
The first smack across my bottom silenced me with shock. I heard it before I felt the burning sensation traversing both cheeks. There was not even time before a half dozen more fell. His berating comments continued, punctuated by the continual slaps that seemed to every inch of bared flesh. The thong bottom that I thought so perfect this morning, left no protection whatsoever from his abuse.
His ranting took a new turn, perhaps only minutes into the spanking; although it had felt like hours. It became almost a lecture to my brother, about the evil ways of women. Detailing how they would first seem so innocent; how they would twist you around their finger, finagling every promise from you. But, once they knew they had you trapped, it was then that you finally learned the truth. It was then that you learned, too late, that women were nothing but whores; meant to be fucked, never to be cherished.
I was just grateful he had stopped tormenting my ass. I did not dare move even when he let go of my hands. I just laid there, silent, barely even breathing for fear he would begin again. His now free hand laying between my shoulder blades. Every nerve seeming filled with fire as the other palm rested on abused flesh. I swore it had to be unintentional, his hand caressing over the reddened flesh as he spoke. But, the caresses became more insistent, pulling me closer to him. I felt the unmistakable bulge against my side. Just because I had never done anything sexual, did not make me completely ignorant.
I could feel my brother’s hands moving upward along my legs, as he agreed with everything my father said. Interjecting his own comments about some of the girls he knew in school. How they would flaunt their bodies and turn around to slap you for looking to intently at what they were showing off. Not to mention what they would scream, if you tried to touch any of it. Pretending innocence in a kiss, knowing how it would lead a man on; only to tease by never giving up more. Just feeding into my father’s rambling discourse — one story topping the next between them.
I did not know what to do, I wanted to flee. But, to do so would be to draw attention to myself — to invite more punishment or lectures. But, as their hands kept moving, caressing, I could hear their breath quickening. I knew I needed to move, regardless of the consequences. Making probably incoherent mumblings of my own about never wearing the bikini again, about being a good girl still, etc. I tried to rise up, and quietly slip from their presence. Again, fate denied me the easy option.
Painfully gripping my left arm, my father whipped me around until I was facing him once again. The evilness in his gaze was enough to cause me to tremble, I tried pulling away as his other hand reached for me. With a sharp tug, he ripped the small top from me, ruining the strings. His tone was condescending when he sneered a comment about me never wearing that again for certain now.
My brother, caught in the madness rose up behind me and unceremoniously mimicked the action with the small bottoms. That only seemed to fuel fire that had been burning into an inferno already. The sight of my smooth fleshed pussy was gasoline upon those flames.
My father reached out, forcing my thighs to part wider, as he looked between my bared folds and my face with disgust. Demanding again and again why I had defaced myself, who I had done it for, why I had to be a slut like all of the rest of the women, how I could have ignored his teachings so thoroughly. When I did not answer him, not that I had an answer he wanted to hear, his meaty paw gripped around my tender mons. Rising up once more from the couch, still holding me kaçak iddaa with that lewd grip, he continued the barrage of questions, stepping closer and closer into my space.
I tried stepping backward, to somehow get out of his hold, but, that only lasted a moment, brought up short by my brother’s large frame. His hands suddenly reached out, grabbing onto my hips, holding me still for the interrogation. Or at least that is what I had thought, but, even as I thought I stilled, there was an imperceptible motion forced by his grip, my hips moving from side to side, as I felt his thrusting forward. His voice was rough, by what I was not sure, at some later time I would understand it as arousal. Mockingly informing my father that I was rubbing up against him, like a slut. I did not dare contradict him — I am sure that would have only made things worse; not that I thought it could get any worse. I should have known better.
I cried out sharply as my father’s fingers gripped that much tighter around my tender mons. Stepping that much closer to me, my body crushed between theirs, his breath hot against my face as he seemed to scream that much louder. His words pounding into my ears as he informed me that everything in that house belonged to him, and him alone, including me. I was told there was no way I was going to be allowed to continue ruining his property, giving away his valuables like they were my own.
I was completely baffled by this point, overwhelmed by the trapped feeling, not even registering at first as my brother’s hands moved higher, painfully gripping my breasts; tauntingly asking my father if he knew how many boys had seen them. Twisting the nipples between finger and thumb, pulling out the sensitive nubs as if to emphasize his point. I could feel his erection more firmly pressing into my asscheeks, as if mocking the very act they were accusing me of committing. It was the next words out of his mouth, though, that perhaps had sealed my fate completely; when he stated that I was surely not a virgin anymore, in any way.
My hair suddenly became twisted in my father’s grip, the floor rushing up to meet me as he threw me down by that hold. The next sound I heard was the belt being drawn from his pants. My brother swiftly moved down on the floor in front of me, holding me down. The first strike of the belt was more brutal than all of the spankings before. My father demanded I raise my hips up from the floor, to hold still for my punishment, or it would be worse. I was not sure how it could be any worse. Again, I should have known better.
The belt struck from the upper rise of my cheeks all the way down my thighs, catching from the outside all the way to the inner edges. Goading my father on, my brother intimated how obvious it was that I was a slut, offering up myself in that pose, like I was begging for some random cock. He began spouting off lies of how I would parade around the house naked when my father was not there, trying to tempt him. Again and again, I heard him saying what a slut I was, how he was certain I was giving up “our father’s property” to any man that looked at me. That he had caught me masturbating in my room once, with the door wide open, as if I wanted him to watch me. I was hearing it so much, I almost believed it.
Between the tears and screams of pain, I was begging them to stop. I admitted anything they said I should, just hoping for it all to end. The belt finally dropped to the floor. I thought maybe they were done with their abuse. For a few heartbeats all I could hear was our heavy panting breaths; but what followed, chilled me more than the sound of his belt cutting through the air. It was the unmistakable sound of his zipper.
My father’s rant turned once more in scope, now instead of raging over how innocent and pure I should have been; now it was all about how if anyone was going to benefit from his belongings it might as well be him. Even if I had guessed his intent, I would not have believed it possible. Without warning, I suddenly felt his cock pressing into me. Trying to pull away only pushed me into my brother’s lap. That made all the more scary as I watched him too baring his turgid length.
My pussy was unbearably tight, not at all prepared for such a ravaging invasion. And even as he pushed against the flimsy barrier that proved all of my assertions, he did not relent. While everyone was warned that first time would hurt kaçak bahis a bit; I never imagined it would hurt that much.
When my mouth opened on a scream, the sound never echoed; my brother’s thick length suddenly arching into my parted lips. His hand fisting in my hair, he forced me to take more with every thrust of his hips. Even as I gagged on it, he forced more into my throat. My hands were trying to push him away, but, it was a losing battle — no matter which way I moved, one of them was going to impale me with a raping force.
They each seemed to feed off of the vile words they were spewing about me. They goaded one another on this perverted and painful path. I could only remain limp between them until finally with a powered thrust each of them filled me with their cum. I could not keep up with all of the viscous liquid filling my mouth, most of it sliding out with my brother’s last strokes.
As my father finished off and pulled free from my painfully abused pussy, I was again berated for making him do this, for forcing him to prove how his property was meant to be used. On top of it all, the mess that pooled on each of us, and the floor — was my fault as well. Ordered to clean it all up, I moved as quickly as I could to the bathroom for washcloths, wiping myself off as much as I could in a few moments. I did not want to wait too long before returning; wrapping my thick bathrobe around me as I went.
I tried handing them each a cloth; that however, was not allowed it seemed. Trembling before them, as they both stood, my father’s hand pushed me to my knees. Standing over me, both of their semi-hard cocks hanging free from their only partially lowered jeans, my father informed me that no longer was privileged enough to have a real name; only proper girls were given names. From now on, I would only be called by my actions, since I wanted — in his twisted mind — to behave like a whore… they would both call me any one of various names, whether it be slut, whore, cunt, or whatever they thought appropriate at the time.
My brother fully caught in the warped spirit of the day ripped the bathroom from my back; telling me sluts did not deserve clothing either. Forgetting myself, I opened my mouth to protest, instead finding my face pushed forward into his crotch. The mocking voice of my brother demanding that since I behave like such a bitch in heat, I might as well act like the dog that I am… and lick up my mess. His hands tight on my head, guiding my face, threatening what would happen if I did not do a good job.
When he finally felt I had done a good enough job, I was ordered to put him back into pants and take care of the mess I left in our father’s lap. When I stood up on shaky legs to walk across the room, he angrily pushed me back to the floor; reminded me that dogs do not stand on two legs. Receiving one more slap to already abused bottom, I tried to hurry out of his reach, and to my father’s feet. I tried to ignore the reality of what I was doing, the blood that coated his cock along with the streaks of his cum.
When I was about to finish, my brother stepped up behind me tugging a looped chain over my head. Perhaps at some signal from my father, he gave a tug. The chain tightened swiftly, cutting off my air supply. I moved toward my brother with a scurried shuffle on my knees, seeing the leash in his hand; and the smirk upon his lips. With the aid of the leash, he dragged me over to the pooled mess upon the floor, pushing down on the back of my head until my face was smooshed into the floor. I was told dogs that left messes in the house, had to clean them up… with their tongues.
I did not even bother protesting, it did not matter. I could only hope they would tire of this soon, and leave me alone — so I could remove the choke chain collar. They both stood there watching me intently, my father stepping closer to lean down and place some sort of lock part way along the choke chain. It allowed me enough leeway to breath, barely; but, there was no hope in removing it.
I could hear their taunting comments, their plans… my father commented that now that they had their own bitch in heat to take care of; they would certainly need to be at home more often. My brother asked whether or not they should purchase a kennel for indoors, outside, or both; since they would now be able to turn my bedroom into a ‘play’ room, now that they no longer had to worry about me needing a bed or clothes, for that matter. I bit my lower lip, trying to block out their words.
I knew that this year, summer was for nothing but torment. At least college would get here soon?