Her Daughter's Destiny

A short story.

Winona gazed blankly into the illuminated mirror at her dressing table. Looking back at her, at least briefly, was the fresh faced and freckled farm girl that she had once been. But she knew that was a lie. Nothing could be further from the truth now.

She had ceased to be that innocent and naïve farm girl shortly after she had made the fateful decision to walk down the dirt path from her grandparent's farm to catch the bus along the rural highway months before.

Her grandma and grandpa had warned her not to go. They had pleaded with her and begged her not to go. But the prospect of experiencing the excitement of the great big world beyond their remote Nebraska farm had been irresistible.

Win, as everyone called her, had ignored their warning. So now she sat at the dressing table in her luxurious bedroom suite that looked out over the San Francisco skyline and the bay beyond. She continued to ready herself for yet another night with the two men who now controlled every aspect of her life.

Her mother had recently died of cervical cancer and there had been nothing to keep her on the farm. She and her mother had been close, almost like two sisters. It had been her mother who had christened her Winona, an Indian word meaning first born daughter. Winona had been her mother's life.

And her grandparents treated both of them like wayward children, scolding them for their Godlessness, when they thought either of them were straying from the path of goodness.

Her former life on the farm seemed like such a long time ago now, as she finished putting up her hair, just as they liked it. Soon after her mother's death, they had provided her with a bus ticket and a train ticket, as well as a brand-new credit card in her own name to pay her incidental travel expenses.

Curious, she had often asked her mother and grandparents about them, but they would change the subject. All they had ever told her was that they lived far away. They had all agreed that the farther away the better.

They had offered to fly her to San Francisco, but she was afraid of flying. Win was afraid of heights in general, as she was of many other things. She had been timid and demur growing up on the remote farm. She had fit right in at the fundamentalist Christian school to which her mother and grandparents had sent her.

The school had taught her to be 'plain' just as it did the other girls. The girls were prohibited from wearing makeup or anything but the drabbest and most modest of clothes. But even then, it did not obscure Win's natural and radiant beauty. She had that rare 'IT' quality, and she had it in spades, she glowed as only rare beauties do.

The school had taught her to be obedient to her elders and to always obey her parents and family without question. Being naturally shy and timid, and fearful of anything she did not understand, which was much, she easily became the humble, impressionable, and submissive young woman into which the school and her grandparents were molding her.

Starting to apply her makeup, Win looked even more closely at herself in the lighted mirror. She stared briefly at the black leather collar that circled her neck. It reminded her who and what she was now.

She began to apply her eyeliner, just as they liked it. Next, she applied rouge to her full lips and to her nipples, then stood and applied the rouge to her outer labia, just as they also liked it. Win was careful to follow their precise instructions to the letter, lest she be punished again.

Earlier she had bleached her anus once again and shaved her pubis and waxed it so her bare pussy was soft to the touch, just as they liked it. She had sat in the sun by the pool for a couple of hours earlier that day, to draw out the freckles that covered her tanned body. Again, just as they liked it.

Looking closely at her nipples, Win made sure that the rouge had not smeared. They did not like that and that could get her punished. Her breasts were so much different now, she thought as she admired them in the mirror. Once they had been small and she had been self-conscious about them.

Now, Win's breasts were large and full, with a tight cleavage between them and her nipples were always erect. That was how they liked them. Big enough to get their huge hard cocks between so they could tit fuck her when they liked.

They had made it clear to Win as soon as she arrived that they planned on using her, just as they had used her mother. That was what women were for, they told her.

Her mother's passing had been the impetus for them contacting her after so many years. With her mother gone, they knew that nothing stood in their way, certainly not her grandparents. Her grandparents would be no more successful in deterring them than they had been with protecting their daughter.

When she first arrived, they showed her videos of how they had sandwiched her mother's naked body between them, using her mouth and pussy, and double penetrating her and sodomizing her. She had watched how they violated her mother's body in every way imaginable. On the videos, she had heard her mother scream and beg before ultimately surrendering to their every demand, just as she did now.

Turning slightly on the cushioned stool, Win looked over her shoulder at her back. Her flesh was crisscrossed with welts from the cane they used to punish her. The welts were fading now since she had not been whipped lately. She had been obedient. Her beatings had taught her to be their submissive and compliant toy.

As she looked at her own back, she remembered her mother's. Her back had been crisscrossed with the scars from the beatings she had taken too, as was her bottom and the back of her thighs. But her mother's beatings had been more severe and the welts never really went away. They were less brutal with her than her mother. Was it because her mother had fought harder than her? She would never know.

Win had only seen her mother's body once when she was very young, and that was by accident as she peered in through the bedroom window from where she was playing in the yard outside. Her mother was careful to keep her body covered, and she never knew Win had seen her. And Win was too embarrassed to ask her mother where the welts had come from. Had she been afraid to know the answer?

Now Win knew. Her mother's scars had come from the very same cane that had begun raining down on her since she arrived in San Francisco on the train. They had immediately and methodically began bending her to their will. They had taunted her. "Like mother, like daughter!" They repeated it again and again as they broke her will, stripped her of self-esteem, and obliterated her former identity.

Constantly badgering her, they told her she was preordained to be a whore too, just like her mother. They had drummed that into her head as they brainwashed her into submission. She was destined to serve their needs and had no other purpose in life, they had repeatedly told her, until she believed it herself.

Win had not been in their opulent mansion on Knob Hill even an hour before they descended on her, stripped her naked and ravaged her again and again. They had quickly deflowered her virgin mouth and pussy, repeatedly sodomized her and double penetrated both her holes, before leaving her a crying heap of sweaty flesh, with semen oozing from her gaping ass and pussy and dribbling down the corners of her open mouth.

Win looked down at the clock on the corner of the dressing table. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Win made sure her makeup was just as they wanted it, that the rouge on her lips and nipples hadn't smeared, lest she be whipped. Looking into her own eyes, she summoned the strength to indulge in one more night of mauling, fucking and sodomy. But she also saw the shame in her eyes as well.

The shame was because she was also consumed by her own carnal desires. She was ashamed that her tormentors could bring her to orgasm again and again. And she was ashamed that she had once again proved to herself, and to them, that she was indeed, a slutty little whore just like her mother.

Getting up from the table, Win looked one more time over her shoulder at the words they had the cosmetic surgeon scarify into her flesh with a scalpel. It was in elegant French script right above the cleft in her ass. Like the collar she wore, it reminded her of who and what she had become.

Slowly walking down the hallway to the master bedroom where they awaited her for yet another night of debauchery, Win walked with her head bowed, her hands at her sides, and her palms turned outward, just as they demanded.

As she opened the double doors to the master suite, the boudoir as they liked to call it, they were waiting for her. They stood at the foot of the bed with long, hard, raging erections, ready to fill her body yet again.

Both men leered at her. She was the very image of her mother, but much younger and riper. She was yet to be as used and relentlessly abused like her mother.

She was still fresh meat, not yet despoiled as her mother had become, right before she escaped their grasp after a particularly savage beating. She had been carrying her unborn daughter then in her womb. She had been able to flee back to the farm where she had grown up.

Now Win stood in front of the men, naked and in a submissive pose. The older man never tired of looking at her freckled flesh. It felt like velvet to the touch. Her body was exquisite, especially now that she had double-d tits to fuck. Her slim waist and the curves of her soft rounded ass only enhanced her appeal.

That she had come to him a naïve and sexually inexperienced virgin had been his bonus as he patiently waited for her mother to die so he could finally claim his virginal young prize. He had secretly kept tabs on them over the years, and waited.

After they finished with her the day she arrived, and she lay weeping and dripping cum on his bed, he had put the black leather collar around her neck and locked it. Quite appropriately, he thought, the gold plate on the collar was engraved with the word S-L-U-T, since they had just spend hours making her into one.

Growing impatient now, the older man grabbed Win by the sides of her ass and bent her over between them, driving his cock deep into the depths of her anal cavity. She let out a loud moan.

Unlike weeks ago, now she purred like a contented cat. She had come to enjoy the feeling of being filled with cocks. They had told her such moans proved that she was a slut and a whore just like her mother, and now she believed them.

The other man, who looked like a younger version of the man whose stiff cock was filling her ass, had begun to mercilessly throat fuck her. She struggled to breath.

Win rocked back and forth on her tip toes as the two men seesawed her body back and forth between them as they stood at the foot of the bed. The throat and ass fucking was just to get things started. They would use her for hours, just as they did every night.

The older man looked down at Win's quivering ass as he filled it with his huge cock, stretching her tiny hole grotesquely. He smiled, knowing that at least figuratively, he was also fucking his dead common law wife too, by taking her daughter as he and his son's new sex slave to finally replace her mother.

He ran his finger across the scarified letter's above Win's soft rippling ass cheeks as he ploughed into her. As he outlined the script letters with his index finger, they spelled Daddy's Little Whore. The older man smiled as he pondered Win's paternity. Which of them was her daddy? Was it him, or was it her mother's son?