*( Sorry about reposting. Trying to be a good citizen and complete my stories.)*
Up and Coming Ch 4
If I am renown for anything besides being self-righteous it is for being ticklish, and for my resemblance to the television star Carla Gugino. Especially, when I smile. There is a framed picture of me on the mantle in our Andersonville living room where a girlfriend of mine has snuck up behind me and grabbed my ribs. The photo captured the explosive smile on my face and I had to admit that the resemblance was strong. We could be sisters. I have always pretended to hate the attention, but who does? Secretly, I was more than a little proud to be compared to her.
As dawn was breaking over Gampy’s End Times Bunker deep in the West Virginia wilderness I sat at the kitchen table staring at the tablet Maria held for me. After a sleepless night of intense hallucinations, rape, and confusing acts of compliance, my mind was not ready to process the abstract whirl of feminine flesh on the screen. My first thought when I recognized mine as the face pulled back from the side by side 69 with a smile that suggested both joy and pleasure was, ‘Oh yeah, Carla Gugino.’ I felt a perverse moment of pride at the sheer beauty of a nude mother and daughter holding each other in a yin-yang exchange of pleasure.
My next thought was of how it would appear to anyone else. No one but me and my daughter in the artfully lit photo taken from somewhere over the bed fucking each other with our mouths and I looked *happy* about it.
Oh. But it wasn’t a photo. Maria reached around the pad and touched the little white triangle in the center of the screen. My smiling head bobbed back and forth and I giggled and gasped in ecstasy while my teenage daughter made me cum with her mouth. I stared in horror as I began to comprehend what I was seeing. With no knowledge of the pain we were promised if we didn’t commit this abomination, or of the gas that was forced into our faces before this video was taken, one would understandably see a mother and daughter in the throes of joyous incest.
For me, the most surprising revelation about my husband’s political career had been the extent to which people can be convinced of things with edited content. People will almost always believe what they are handed if they like where it’s going.
In the video, when the orgasm that had snapped my head back subsided I happily returned my loving mouth to my Andrea’s perfect flower and feasted on her as we both moaned and cooed and giggled into each other.
Maria swiped our scene of sapphic joy away and it was replaced by a new video of me dressed in tawdry lingerie with my drooping breasts exposed over a kitchen apron. She touched play and I am rhythmically scrambling eggs with a spatula in one hand and holding what looks like a gin and tonic in the other while my bare tits jiggle. I look happy, drunk, and in charge. I am trying to suppress a giggle long enough to take a sip from my drink when naked Andrea stumbles into the picture and tries to blow a razzberry between my shoulder blades. She looks drunk and happy and we both nearly collapse in laughter after her partially successful fart noise against my skin. I can’t stifle a sympathetic giggle as I watched the video showing us holding each other up as we howled in drunken mirth. I remembered the raucous moment when we were allowed to perform our skit for them and neither of us had to feel pain for a little while. Even though it was the gas making us, it felt so healing to laugh with her after what they had put us through.
What you couldn’t see or hear was what they did to us before the video began. My howls of anguish as they tortured her in front of me. The electric baton didn’t leave marks but the pain was impossible to endure. Especially when they touched it to our nipples or vaginas. Watching my son and his lover torture Andrea’s tender breasts with it while she squealed and convulsed against her bonds left a scar on my heart that will never heal because I had allowed it.
We were tied facing each other again, this time with our arms over the back of the couches in the living room. If you have ever been held down and tickled you know that in spite of your involuntary laughter, it is torture. I hate it. So does Andrea. Now imagine being unable to defend yourself and enduring it for minutes at a time. It seems weird to say it, but I almost preferred the pain to the tickling. Not that I had a choice.
The rules of their game were simple. They tickled me and touched my breasts with the shock-stick until I broke and screamed for them to stop. The condition of them stopping was that they would then do it to Andrea. I would gasp and weep through convulsive aftershocks of laughter while right in front of me my baby screamed and thrashed and laughed maniacally as they tickled and zapped her. When finally I could summon the breath to scream at them to stop torturing my baby, like evil game show hosts they would gleefully turn their attention back to me and then *I* would be cackling and screaming and weeping and gasping for breath all at once until I broke again and begged them to stop. Each time I screamed at them to leave her alone I vowed to myself that this time I would endure my turn until they gave up, but to my eternal shame, I never could. I don’t know how long this went on but when they stopped we were only partially conscious and willing to do anything to keep it from happening again.
Of course, I wore what they gave me. Of course, I made them eggs. I would have shot a stranger for them to make them stop hurting my baby. We did what we were told.
But I understood what someone else would see in the video clip: A derelict mother. A child seduced by my example. Moral decay in the nation’s heartland. I finally understood what was happening here. They weren’t just raping us for the sheer joy of it, this was about Reggie. Whoever Maria represented was going to own my husband after tonight. My son was just a useful idiot. I don’t know what kind of future she had promised him, but I was sure that he didn’t understand the depth of their hold over him, yet.
She swiped again and this time it was a scene I had only partial memory of. Maria, wearing a dark half mask that obscured her identity if you ignored her lustrous brown hair and world-class body, was on her stomach on the master bed with pillows under her pelvis lifting her beautiful ass for me. My hands are spreading her ass cheeks and my extended tongue is fucking her exposed anus with purpose while she undulates and brushes her own clit with her fingers from underneath. Every few seconds I am forced to stop tongue fucking her to gasp as Jackson shoves his cock into me from behind. My back is arched to give him access and I am moaning my unwanted pleasure into her ass.
There is no amount of explanation in the world that would remove the certainty of anyone watching this that I am a willing and lusty participant in this threesome with my son and another woman. I could tell them that my daughter was also in the room but off-camera and tied to the mind killing orgasm machine again. I could explain that they couldn’t see the little remote Maria held in the hand not masturbating herself that made the machine roar to life inside her whenever I flagged at my task. I did whatever they told me to because the alternative was unbearable.
I have a vague memory of kissing my daughter between assaults and then realizing we weren’t being made to. During a pause in the raping, I was allowed to hold her in my arms while they did something with furniture in the living room. Neither one of us was tied so our naked bodies clung to each other while our drugged minds vaulted between realities. At one I point our comforting became deep and sensuous kissing. I don’t remember starting, just feeling disappointed and embarrassed when they separated us. I told myself that it was the drugs that made me love her in that way, but it was a profound moment of peace in an unfathomable storm.
My son took me in ways his father had never dreamed of. Just yesterday I would have bet you a second mortgage that I would go to my grave with my anal virginity intact. Jackson took that from me, as well. I remember being shocked that it didn’t hurt. Maria had done things with fingers and mouth to prepare me so that when he pushed himself in I felt stretched in a way I hadn’t thought possible and full of his meat, but not in pain. He fucked my guts with that monster while Maria slid underneath me and sucked wantonly on my clitoris. I had already been forced to experience more orgasms than I had in all my life until last night, but the combination of Jackson in my ass and Maria on my clit made my exhausted body cum again and again.
As the dappled sunlight shining through the dense forest foliage painted abstract pictures in light on the kitchen wall Maria showed me scene after scene of depraved incest between me and my children. I should call it what it is. Kompromat. While I watched she talked about what I would be asked to do to keep this night of shame a secret. She explained that our lives didn’t have to change, but that Reggie would be required to vote on legislation in a manner that they wished.
She showed me one final scene of me trying to suck Jackson’s huge knob into my mouth and laughing at how impossible it seemed. It was the gas and the drugs painting that smile on my face, but I looked like I wanted it.
My naked children were passed out spooning on a couch in the living room. Maria got up from her chair and bent down to kiss me tenderly and I kissed her back as I had been conditioned to. She left the tablet showing Jackson’s cock in my mouth on the table for me and busied herself making coffee. No one was expecting to hear from us until Monday so we were at their mercy for at least another 48 hours. Once again, my imagination failed me when I tried to envision what more they could do to us in that time, but I knew it would be terrible. For a brief moment, I contemplated grabbing a big knife from the woodblock holder on the countertop and gutting her with it, but I knew it was only fantasy. I was beaten. I tried to envision a future when this was all over and my family was intact again, but I couldn’t. I had stumbled into a trap that we would never recover from.
It may have been a remnant wave of the drugs in my system but I had a vision of my son as a more mature man standing at a podium in front of giant banners with his name and image over American flags. He was smiling a wolfish grin that conveyed confidence in his ownership of the throng before him. His eyes said, ‘I will devour you!” and they loved him for it.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gdi74m/up_and_coming_ch_4_final_chapter_with_new_edits
Damn, such a perfect snatch. <3