The Age Of Enslavement Pt 12

This part contains sex involving a fictional contagious infection, people changing to be animal-like, permanent slavery, forced prostitution, impregnation, mild coprophagia, and rape.

"Great. Please please please can I get this belt off now," WhoreMouse begged, Brian's cum drying on her chin.

"Go for it Brian," Damian encouraged, "Show her those pussy eating skills you just learned."

Brian fumbled with the chastity belt lock for just a moment, at last revealing WhoreMouse's beautiful fuzzy virgin cunt. He lifted her up into his arms, laid her out on the table, and dived in with his tongue.

Robert tried to avert his eyes. He tried looking at his wife, so beautiful in her newly enslaved nakedness. He tried looking at CheerBreeder, the beaten and bruised but still enthusiastic cheerleader still milking the last of the cum from his balls. He tried looking at any one of a dozen nearby beautiful naked women. But some of them were looking back toward his table: at his 18 year old daughter writhing and moaning mere inches from him. She was somehow more beautiful than all of them.

WhoreMouse knew everyone was watching her. An hour ago she might have been mortified at the thought. Now it didn't matter. She was going to cum at last. At fucking last. Wait. No no no. "The training chip," she moaned weakly, "Have to take it out."

"Are you sure," Damian asked, "I've heard it feels even better with the chip in. Especially if I turn it to pleasure pulse mode like this." He tapped a button on his phone.

WhoreMouse melted. Her legs involuntarily wrapped around Brian's head. His tongue combined with the little pulses she'd come to crave so much were heaven. Each thought she tried to think was blanked away by another little pulse.

"Leave it in or take it out," said Damian, "It's your choice."

But WhoreMouse was too far gone to choose anything. It didn't matter that she desperately wanted not to be permanently chipped. It didn't matter that pulling it out had been the entire reason she'd come to the club, the reason her mom was a slave now. Nothing mattered except the pleasure, the relief, the next pulse.

Brian came to the rescue. "I've got you babe," he said. Though she gripped him with all her thigh might, he was much stronger than her. He gently pried himself out, ignoring her pleading for more. He likewise ignored the pulse of pain from his own chip, as Damian tried to dissuade him. WhoreMouse needed him. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. He reached carefully into her with one finger, and gently slid the chip out. The pulses felt tingly on his finger. She groaned, half in relief, half in disappointment. He then returned gleefully to the task of making her cum.

Damian was disappointed, but impressed. WhoreMouse's chip pulsed uselessly on the table. It was a recoverable setback, but still he'd miscalculated. He made a mental note not to underestimate Brian again. "Well done you two", he said, giving Brian a nod of respect, "You really did pick a good one WhoreMouse."

"He's perfect...love you Brian," moaned WhoreMouse, once again gripping his head with her legs.

"Lrrvv, yrr trr."

"Let's get some desserts," said Damian, "CheerBreeder, I think you've milked Robert's balls just about dry. If he hasn't impregnated you by now, you'll have to try again tomorrow. Let your mom have a turn and go put in an order for a dessert platter. One of everything please. Mr. Winthrop, I can see you're spent, but I'd say CherryPie has earned her ride after all that ass eating. You can do it. Just one more."

Robert had been feeling drained. He wasn't a young man anymore. The drug was still working though: his cock was as hard as ever. As he considered, WhoreMouse reached out and took his hand. His daughter apparently wanted to hold his hand while she came. That did it. He was ready to go again.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle...at first," said CherryPie. She swung her gorgeous long legs into straddling position, grinding her hot cunt into Robert's tummy, and began kissing him gingerly. Then she spoke in a low hoarse voice. "Don't hold back. I need this."

Once her body was against his, Robert had no trouble focusing on CherryPie. Truthfully he'd been looking forward to this. Fucking CheerBreeder while pretending she was his daughter had blown his mind, but it was still a fantasy. Even being herself, CheerBreeder was barely more than a girl. If he tried to have a relationship with her, what could they even talk about? It was fun, but left him wanting something more.

CherryPie on the other hand was a proper woman. Robert respected her. He could imagine not just fucking her, but snuggling and talking for hours afterwards. If he wasn't already married, he could see himself having an actual life with her. She'd lived enough to know who she was and what she wanted. And right now she wanted him. That meant so much more than any fantasy possibly could. He melted into his wife's friend's embrace. His drug-hardened cock slid across her clit.

PussyCunt -- Robert's wife less than an hour ago, now a slave with no right to even be mad about this -- looked on with a sad smile. She knew him probably better than he knew himself. She knew he couldn't just fuck and forget. He liked deeper connections. She was happy for him, but sad for herself, as she watched him not just making love with someone else, but falling in love.

Robert looked into CherryPie's eyes, squeezed his daughter's hand, and plunged bare into CherryPie's unprotected sopping wet slave cunt. Oh a man could get used to this.

WhoreMouse, still wrapped around Brian's head, imagined herself where CherryPie was, riding her bucking father like a rodeo bronco. If her mom was busy later getting raped or enslaved by Damian, maybe WhoreMouse would have an opportunity to sneak into her Daddy's room and try it.

"Way to go Mr. Winthrop," said Damian, "PussyCunt, come lean over the table. I'm hard from raping your daughter's throat, and I'm ready to breed you now."

PussyCunt didn't have a chip in anymore. Earlier Damian had held it against her clit, and so she'd lost contact with it when she got up to sit on Brian's face. Even so, her mind conjured the feeling of a pulse every time she obeyed, and a pinch every time she hesitated. She knew these were called phantom pulses, and were a sign of deep chip addiction. PussyCunt leaned over the table and spread her legs. Her arms were still bound behind her back, so her face was pressed into the table. She was really doing this. She was bending over for the whole club to see, so her master could publicly impregnate her.

That got Robert's attention. "Wait, you're really...making love to her?".

"Oh. No no," said Damian, "We're not going to make love. I'm going to rape her pregnant. I'm going to use her for pleasure, and force her to bear my kids. She's my slave. That's what slaves are for. I said I would, and I always keep my word."

CherryPie picked that moment to squeeze Robert's bare dick and shiver with pleasure. "What slaves are for," she echoed, "You know Sir, I'm not on birth control either."

God that felt good. Still, Robert felt like something was wrong here. He wanted to protest, but wasn't sure how. Yes, he'd agreed to have his wife enslaved and raped. But Damian had only done finger stuff before. Fucking her with his actual cock...it felt different. It felt like Damian was claiming her for himself. Especially if he got her pregnant. Had that really been part of the deal? Would Robert have to raise Damian's children? Robert realized he had been pretty distracted. He might have missed something important. "That seems a bit far don't you think," Robert asked, "Maybe we should wait a little: make sure before you...do something we can't take back."

Damian chuckled. "I get it. She was your wife. How about this: you watch me breed and break the woman you married, and I'll let you keep CherryPie, indefinitely, as my thank you."

Robert felt CherryPie's whole body stiffen and shiver at that, including her cunt. "Oh no," she moaned. Robert couldn't tell if it was out of fear or pleasure. Maybe both? "Master, does that mean..."

Damian gave a somber nod. "Yes CherryPie. You're long overdue. It's time for you to accept your place, forever."

Robert felt CherryPie's breathing quicken, and her muscle convulse. Was she having an orgasm? Maybe a small one.

Damian continued, "If Mr. Winthrop decides to keep you, I'll have you branded, right here at this table, with him still inside you. Then we'll have the words 'property of Robert Winthrop' tattooed above your cunt. He doesn't want to own slaves, so technically you'll still be mine. But you'll live in his house, do as he says, wear his name on your skin, raise his children, and probably bear a few of them too. You'll be his, forever. Or until he sells you. I'll even give him your stuff: your savings, your condo, your car, everything. Maybe your daughter too, depending on how things go with her owner. Everything you are, everything you've worked for, will be his."

CherryPie squeezed Robert's cock as hard as she could as the miniature orgasm rolled through her. She was a slave now. Really a slave. She'd always known this day could come. That was part of the fun. But part of her never really thought it would. Now it was here. She'd had so many plans as a free woman. She was just about to publish the third episode of her true crime podcast. She'd almost saved enough for another overseas vacation. She'd just planted tulips. All that was gone now. Or maybe not? She looked Master Robert in the eyes, but spoke to Master Damian, "What if he doesn't take me?"

"Then I'll still brand you. I'll auction you off to the highest bidder online, vacuum seal you in a plastic slave mailer, and send you through international slave shipping to your new master. I know a slaver who owns a dairy farm who has said he's interested in you. If he buys you he'll give you brain mods to make you dumber, and mammary mods so you produce a lot of milk. You'll spend the rest of your life a dairy hucow."

Oh no. CherryPie had often fantasized about being auctioned to a dairy farm. Did Damian know that? Thinking about it was a guilty pleasure for her. She'd done a lot of research about it. She knew there was even more gene replacement therapy involved than Master had mentioned: voice modding, leg shortening, fertility enhancement. Her hands and feet would be slowly fused, reshaped, and hardened into hooves. At artisanal farms, they'd even graft on fur and a tail. She'd be force fed constantly, so as to have enough calories to generate the gallons of milk they'd pump from her. They'd rent her out for rape-breeding as often as possible, to make back some of the money from the gene therapy and to help her new watermelon-sized tits stay at full production. Constant pregnancy and hormone induced milking were hard on a body, so she might only live another ten or twenty years. Her milk would be sold around the world. Lots of people thought animal farms were cruel, and so paid a premium for the much more ethically sourced hucow slave milk instead. She'd have a clear purpose in life, and she'd have no choice but to do it well. All day long she'd eat and fuck and make the world better one glass of milk at a time. Plus, she'd slave break for sure, probably on her first day. How nice would that be?

But no, CherryPie didn't really want that. It was just a fantasy. She didn't want to become too stupid to understand what had happened to her. She didn't want her tongue and vocal cords altered so she could only moo. She'd be so sad to never see her daughter CheerBreeder anymore, to never meet her grandbabies.

"Please take me Master Winthrop," CherryPie begged, "I don't want to be a hucow. I'll be a good slave for you I promise." She realized she meant it. If she couldn't be free, she really wanted to be Master Winthrop's forever slave. He might even let her act as a free woman sometimes. "PussyCunt's is in good hands. She deserves a good rapist, and there's no one better than Damian."

"And getting broken feels so good," chimed in CheerBreeder. The dark bruises covering her body lent weight to her words.

Robert looked to his former wife, the mother of his daughter, his best friend of more than twenty years. She was still obediently bent over the table waiting to be bred, showing the world her cunt, while the men decided. Damian was going to break her? Now? Robert wanted her to give him a sign: to shake her head, or nod, or something. But this simply wasn't her decision. She met his eyes, but gave no guidance. She trusted his judgement. It was up to him.

Robert looked again at CherryPie. Her eyes glistened. He had to save her from the dairy farm. It was the right thing to do. She squeezed his cock again. It felt so good to be inside her. "Please," she mouthed.

"Okay," said Robert, "Deal."

WhoreMouse had been listening as best she could, while Brian's tongue rocked her world. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but her orgasm hit exactly the same moment she heard her father agree to have her mother rape bred, and permanently broken. Her father had literally just traded her mother for another woman, and the bliss of orgasm surged through WhoreMouse's body.

WhoreMouse gripped her Daddy's hand, her fiancé's head, and came with the combined force of all her horny frustrations over the last few days. The hours of slave training, the nights of clawing at the chastity belt and humping her stuffed animals, the fantasies of her father, even the humiliation of being paraded naked through the street: all of it found release.

She imagined her father trading her away as well. Maybe he'd breed her a few times first. Everyone at church would love the babies, but shun her as the whore who had tempted her Daddy into sin. Then once she got all used up, her body ravaged and ruined, Daddy would meet someone younger and hotter: a nice church girl sent to save Daddy from sinful whores and slaves. WhoreMouse would show her replacement how to please Daddy and take care of his kids (not hers, though they'd come from her body).

Daddy would take them all to church and ceremonially adopt the new girl as his replacement daughter, and CherryPie as his replacement wife. Then WhoreMouse and her mom would climb naked together into a wooden crate in front of the whole congregation for shipping to their new master. Everyone would take a turn putting a nail in the crate, to symbolize their commitment to cast out evil. They'd get banged up a little during shipping of course, but vacuum mailers were reserved for valuable slaves.

The orgasms reverberated through WhoreMouse's body. One chained into another into another. Brian's tongue never waivered or slowed. He was determined to keep this going as long as possible.

"You're a good man Robert," Damian reassured, "This is the right thing to do."

"Hold me," begged CherryPie, "Make love to me, please. Let me dream that I'm free one last time."

Robert held her, kissed her, and began fucking her gently, tenderly, lovingly. All the while he kept an eye on PussyCunt. He felt it was the least he could do to watch while his wife was broken.

Damian stood and got behind PussyCunt. She'd patiently waited for him, legs spread, face smushed against the table, showing her freshly shaven ass and cunt to the whole club. She was still horny from Brian's attention. She could feel two little drops of water running down her legs. She was literally dripping wet. She felt the eyes of the crowd on those little drops. She burned with shame as they watched her watch the man she still thought of as her husband trade her for her friend, then fuck that friend with tenderness and passion that was once only for her. A third drop formed: tiny terrible incriminating proof for all to see that she liked this. That she was wet for it. That she deserved it. She gasped as she felt Damian's cock brush her ass.

"Are you ready to submit completely, slave," Damian asked her.

"Yes master." She felt the chip that wasn't really there pulse in her.

Damian produced the terrible wonderful real training chip he'd used on her earlier, and gently slid it into her pussy. She gasped a little at the touch, and at the knowledge of what it meant. He set it to pleasure pulse mode. The blessed pulses washed over her, paralyzing her. Then he lined up his bare hard dick to push it in. He paused a moment: Robert's last moment to object. PussyCunt held her breath. She knew if Damian did it, she would be his, body and mind.

Slow and deliberately, Damian pushed all the way in. Her sopping wet cunt gave no resistance. She shuddered at the sensation of being truly taken by her master. The crowd cheered.

It was like being raped four times: first by the chip, then the bare cock behind it, third by her husband's betrayal, and finally by her neighbors eyes in the crowd. She shuddered with a miniature orgasm. She was to be broken. This was real. This was happening.

WhoreMouse imagined herself now in her mother's place: getting raped and bred while all her family who were supposed to protect her stood by. It felt inevitable. Like falling asleep: she could put it off, she could resist it, but it was going to happen. Wouldn't it be easier to just accept it, to embrace it, to enjoy it, like her mom was doing?

Damian began slowly pumping in and out of PussyCunt. "You understand now don't you? You're mine now, free or not. I'm going to breed you, and you're going to help me. From now on, you're not allowed to use birth control ever again. We'll get your ear tagged later tonight."

"Yes Master." Pulse, pulse, pulse.

WhoreMouse reached out and grasped her mother's shoulder, forming a little chain between her family. PussyCunt squeezed it against her cheek. They were in this together now.

"From now on you may not fuck your husband without my permission, even after you're his wife again," Damian said, "Your next babies will be mine. After that, rape and whoring are the only sex you'll ever have again."

She couldn't have sex with her own husband? Could Master really do that? Of course he could. She was addicted to the chip, and soon to be broken. "Yes Master," PussyCunt whispered. He sped up until he was raping her in rhythm with the pulses. God it felt good. Her hips began moving to the rhythm, betraying her, helping him rape her freedom away.

WhoreMouse was reminded of her slave training with Damian: kneeling before his image on the phone, begging him to rape her while Brian stood by, trying to mean it, succeeding. She imagined being Damian's slave alongside her mother. Perhaps he'd make them have sex with each other while Daddy watched. The thought was disgusting, and yet she knew she'd eventually learn to love it if Master trained her enough. Maybe it would become the new normal: a mommy daughter slave pair fucking each other to increase their sale price. Maybe Master would let Daddy and PussyCunt rape WhoreMouse together every now and then, as a special treat to all of them.

"Once you're pregnant, I'll whore you out," Damian promised PussyCunt, "You'll get prices for your services tattooed in big letters across your body, then go door to door naked to all your neighbors, asking them if they'd like to use you. You'll do it as a legally free woman so you make more whore money. Some men really like raping free women. You'll find as many men like that as you can, and sell them permanent legal permission to rape you whenever they want. You'll keep your money separate from your husband, so I can take it for myself when I come around and enslave you."

PussyCunt imagined herself going door to door as a walking naked billboard advertising her own whoring. She knew a few of her neighbors would use her services, and the rest would never forgive her for it. "Yes Master. Please Master." Master was taking her rights away one by one as he raped her. It felt like he was literally raping them away.