Monica Mortified

[InnocentVirgin]

She'd been here 5 or 6 days, she'd lost count. Her ankle was ringed in steel and a chain bolted to the concete floor gave her about a 10ft radius movement. Enough to use the loo in the corner, the sink, and bunk.

She'd been further disorientated by the randomness of dark and light. Sometimes the dank and chill room was brightly lit, other times completely dark, cave dark.

One moment she'd been living her life, newly divorced, newly employed and patiently putting her life back in order after a failed marriage. Her husband had married her because her father had paid him. She was a mouse. He stayed in her bed, one night, taking her virginity to consummate the marriage and left.

The only consolation she had was he was fired and blacklisted by her father. And that wasn't exactly true was it? She felt a fool and was glad to be rid of him. He humiliated her publicly. Made her more a laughingstock than she was already.

She, Monica, was the non-descript daughter of two socially prominate people. The beautiful people. How disappointed they ended up being in her.

Growing up, petite and flat chested with brown hair and glasses, she was much more interested in books than boys. Her masses of curly hair hid her face and she seemed to shrink in the presence of others.

She assumed she was abducted for ransom.

Her Dad would pay.

----

Getting up on the 6th day was more difficult. Monica was cold and the military green blanket on the cot did little to keep her warm. A breakfast? Lunch? she didn't know... was left by the door. She ate to releive the boredom more than being hungry.


No one had come in the days she'd spent here. Not a voice... Not even a hand did she see, the tray was pushed by pole through the bottom of the door.

She'd cried and begged to be released until her voice broke and she could only wheeze out her pleas. She hummed and slept as much as she could. She jumped up and down to keep warm, she did situps and ran in place, anything to take up the time.

But now.. this SIXTH day, she was humiliated.

Her period started and she had nothing to take care of it. No pads, not even any underwear to stuff with toilet tissue. Normal biological function, yes, but it didn't relieve her shame. Poor mouse.

She finally gave up her pillow - and took the case from it, fashioning a diaper type arrangement to stem her flow.

Another week went by. She started reciting lines from her favorite books and reciting every piece of poetry she'd ever learned, resorting to nursery rhymes when she couldn't think of any more.

And another week...

She availed herself to the stuffs pushed into her cell, shampoo, soap and toothpaste, hair brush and even floss.

She talked to herself endlessly, filling the room with questions, answers, statements.

She went back to pleading and begging. A social recluse, nonetheless, she'd been around people. Even if they didn't see her and ignored her, it was entirely different to be totally alone except for a pole that pushed items at her.

Monica chatted with her mother and father and people she knew and made up their replies.

She started to forget things and her dreams became bizarre.

Her mind would wander and she'd... zone out.

-----------------------------------------------------

The sound of the door opening didn't mean anything at first.

A man in a suit and tie stepped in and locked the door behind him. In his right hand he held a riding crop. "Hello Monica," he said in a deep baritone. "Nice to see you enjoying my hospitality."

She held her knees to her chest and hid her face. His features were indistinct anyway, she didn't have her glasses. And he was probably a dream she reckoned. Her mind had manufactured a few people that came and kept her company.

She didn't feel like company today. She wanted to sleep.

"I'm Mister Parks. I'm your ...host," his voice held laughter.

"You need to get up now."

Monica ignored him.

In a swift seemless movement he had her by the arm, jerking her off the cot. "You have to learn to listen to me," he said as he shook her.


Monica jerked awake and aware... this wasn't her mind.. This was a real person. "I want to go home. Can I go home?"

"You are home, silly girl."

"No, please, I want my house, ...my house." It seemed that he misunderstood, he must have, this wasn't her home.

A swing of his arm and the crop bit her back. "OWW."

She tried to wiggle away but the grip on her arm dug in. "Stop, please! Don't hurt me." Another blow to her back, then her ass. The marks were hectic on her white skin and she flinched back with each blow, screaming with the hurt.

"This is nothing, little Monica," he hissed with a lecherous smile and pushed her facedown on the bed with a strong hand holding her down and lashed at her back and buttocks until she couldn't cry out and only huffed at each blow.

"I plan on breeding you."

[InnocentVirgin]

To be continued.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Good or bad. :D

[jwham]

A very attention-grabbing start … looking forward to seeing where you take it.

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica missed his intent, concentrating solely on her ass and back and the waves of pain that had the unfortunate effect of clearing her head a little and bringing her back from the confusion and delusion she'd experienced.

He held her face to the cot a little while after he'd finished, letting her realize he was finished for the moment. She was so small she'd look positively grotesque pregnant. He smiled as he pushed her over, her ass and back connected with the rough walls and caused her to yelp.

Her hair hid her face and he used the crop to move it away. A half smile twisted his mouth as he saw what the snot and tears had done to her face.

"Get up and wash your face." A forceful hand digging into her arm yanked her up and off the cot. She shrank from him as he wound a fist in her hair, she could be a pretty little thing, if she bothered.

He shoved her toward the sink and carefully sat with obvious distaste on the edge of her cot.

Monica stumbled to the sink her ass and back singing with each pulse of her heat and step she took. How it burned. She washed her face and made an attempt to clean up before bowing her head and turning, unwilling to look at him.

"Come here." Wooden legs took her 5 feet closer to him. He reached out and grabbed her by her pubic hair, drawing her before him where he sat. Monica cried out sharply but cut it off remembering the whipping she'd just received.

A couple of pubic hairs came off in his hand and he looked at them with distaste, wiping his hand on the sheet.

"One of my workers ... will be in to take care of that bloody bush. I'm not trusting you with a razor," he told her as he stood, just brushing against her nipples and breasts as he rose. "You're the kind of sad cow that would slice her wrists, aren't you?"

She flinched and swallowed hard. The thoughts of suicide that had wound their way into her waking dreams were shameful to her.

"Open your legs." When she didn't move, he roughly kneed them apart and stepped back.

She stood knees bent and head bowed, starting to cry again.

He bent slightly to take her entire vulva into his hand, running a finger down her slit before gripping her in a vise like fist. Her animal moan of fear was all he heard and he smiled again.

"You will obey. You won't make trouble." With a savage twist he dropped his hand and strode to the door.

"Punishment is always swift, little mousey cow."

[InnocentVirgin]

Left alone, Monica wrapped herself up in the bed coverings and cried. Her body shook with the sobs and fear of him.

Her hands cradled her sex protectively and her back and ass throbbed with his punishing display. She wished to be away from this dank place. She tried to will herself to be anywhere but here. PRAYED to be gone from here. She tried to envision her own room and her bed but Mr. Parks and this disgusting place stayed and she couldn’t summon any memories beyond this room.

She heard the lights switch off and soon fell into an exhausted slumber that was restless at best with nightmarish images.

She woke to a new voice. A feminine voice.

“Get up.” The blond woman was tall and plump, dressed in a lovely coral blouse and pencil skirt.

“Oh my god! Thank you.. Thank you.” She bolted off the cot and hugged the tall woman who immediately pushed her back and slapped her soundly, putting her weight into it.

The slap clearly stated that the woman wasn’t her rescue and Monica sank to her knees with despair. It must be a servant. There was a man in workman’s clothing standing near the door and with a nod the tall blond woman indicated her desire. He knelt by Monica, his handsome face expressionless, and unchained her leg. “Do as they tell you, Miss.”

“Shut up!” The blond admonished the worker with a sharp tone. “It’s not your business. So shut your mouth and take her into the bath.”

In far too short a time she was stretched out on a table with her legs open and held down by the worker. The blond shaved her leaving only the hair on her head.

She was actually quite chatty. “You’ll be the third try. Let’s hope you are more fertile than the other two." Monica suffered through a douche and enema and the subsequent voiding.

“They didn’t last long. One went crazy and the other ended up with her head bashed against the wall. An unfortunate accident.”

She was led to a drain in the floor and hosed down. The worker dried her off and even brushed out her wet hair. He pulled a long white silk gown over her head. It looked like something a bride would wear on her wedding night. Monica was dumbfounded. Scared enough to do as she was told, this seemed bazaar on so many levels.

“Why are you doing this? You could find so many that would like this ...treatment.” And Monica knew it was true. There were plenty of women that would like to be hit and raped. She’d seen some of the BDSM tapes that her ex-husband had. “Why me?”

The blond laughed sarcastically, “Because you have good blood, my dear. Your family is old and prominent and you have good genes. We need an heir. You are fertile now. He kept you until he could see when you bled,” she paused before adding “You’ll have our grandson or granddaughter. My son can’t wait to meet you.” Her laugh was ugly. This was evidently Mrs. Parks.

It made sense now, why she’d been locked up so long, but it didn’t make sense that they’d have to kidnap a woman for their son. “But...” a hard slap stopped her comment.

“Shut up! Didn't he tell you that punishment is swift? And severe?”

The blond pulled her blouse from her skirt and quickly unbuttoned it, baring her breasts for Monica. Her left breast was perfect but her right was a horror. Livid scars replaced the nipple.

“This was my punishment. ‘HE’ bit it off. Take a good look at it!” she grabbed Monica by the hair and pushed her face nearly into the mangled breast. “That is what happens when you displease Mr. Parks.” Her voice carried conviction. She shoved Monica away and ordered the worker to take her upstairs.

[InnocentVirgin]

In another place and time, Monica would have been impressed with the large house, mansion really. Marble and granite, fine art and tasteful decorating was the rule but it seemed ...unlived in and sterile.

She was marched ahead of the worker and followed by Mrs. Parks' echoing tread. Up a showcase stairway rich with mahogany into a long hall and through a carved door.

They were in a sitting room, decorated in English hunt. Mr. Parks was before a fire with a sniffer of brandy and dressing robe. His legs were splayed and he idly stroked his half-flacid member as he contemplated the flames.

Mrs. Parks cleared her throat and pushed Monica forward.

"I see you met the Misses," he didn't bother glancing up. "And my brother Dean." His brother was a servant in this house? Monica had never heard of such a thing.

"Come here, girl."

Monica was rooted to the spot. Watching his lazy stroking of his cock was scaring her, she dragged her eyes from it and looked at the carpet. Mrs. Parks however took her arm in a meaty grip and pulled her forward. When Monica still balked, Dean took her other arm with an appologetic air and they forced her forward until she stood in front of Mr. Parks, between him and the fire.

She knew her body was clearly outlined by the flames through the white gown and it caused even more red to rush into her face. He'd seen her naked before, had whipped her but it didn't stop her embarrassment and fear, and ...loathing.

"Suck me."

"No." She found she did have a voice. "Please, don't make me do th--" SLAP! Mrs. Parks let go of her arm and delt her a stinging slap, followed by a backhand - SLAP! Both cheeks were livid and Monica started crying, big fat tears gathered in each bright brown eye before spilling and tracking down her face.

She was brought to her knees between the splayed legs of Mr. Parks and Dean pushed her head towards his cock. She begged and cried and the answer she got was Mrs. Parks pinching her nostrils tightly shut until Monica opened her mouth and Dean pushed her down on his cock.

They held her there and finally Mrs. Parks released her nose.

"Suck."

Her lips closed around him and she sucked.

His cock grew and twitched, not that she was expert, it was evident she'd never sucked a cock before, but he loved the power, seeing her terrified and knowing he could rape her, maim her, degrade her, or end her life and never suffer any consequence whatsoever. He gloried in that power.

So he grew hard, and harder still, his cock stretching her little mouth until it looked quite obscene. He had a huge one, long, thick and heavily veined. It was easily twice the length and girth of her ex-husband.

Mrs. Parks took her by the back of her head, winding her hair in her fist and pushed Monica's head down and back up a few times to show Monica the proper form. Then she shoved her harder, holding her down and cutting off her air, choked by that fat cock until Monica gagged and struggled and turned red. They released her suddenly and she fell back coughing and choking, trying to drag air to her deprived lungs as Mr. Parks started laughing.

[InnocentVirgin]

A phone rang and Dean answered it, speaking quietly into the phone but snatches of his conversation could be heard. "...how long?...she's here...I'll tell him."

"Bert says they got caught in traffic after the show and wil be another hour."

Mr. Parks nodded and smiled. "We have time to get to know each other better little Monica...

"Did my gash of a wife tell you why you are here? No?" Monica was too scared to talk, cowering on the floor where she landed.

"I need an heir. I can't father any more children, otherwise, I'd be doing the honors with impregnating you." His eyes narrowed and it was evident that his male pride still stung with his inadequacy.

"So, my son will do the deed... His seed will provide what we need. You will be the vessel. The cunt connected to the womb, so to speak.

"You are here and will live so long as you obey and carry my son's son. You were given drugs that enhance fertility and it's only your compliance I want. You resist, ask my ...bride what consequences are." He nodded toward Mrs. Parks and her face flamed with humiliation and fleeting pain.

"So, we have more time now... I'm going to leave your furtile cunt to my son, but I think I'll take your ass."

Monica heard all his speech with growing horror but outright fight or flight kicked in with the last comment. She bolted, springing up off the floor with every intent to head out the door.

And bright white filled her head as Mrs. Parks laid her out with a hard blow to the side of her head. She was half conscious, dizzy and disorientated as her gown was removed and she was bent over the sofa baring her backside. She swam in a haze until she felt a heavy hand descend on her buttocks with a brutal slap that brought her back to full consciousness. "No, not the whip, you know blood makes him insane... the flogger.... yes that one."

Mr. Parks loved seeing the imprint of his hand on her already bruised ass. The sight alone was enough to start stiffening his cock, grown soft during his confession of sterility.

He wound a hand in her hair and pulled her up to face him, flogger in hand, his face close to hers as he sneered, "You are so stupid, how many times do you have to be told to obey?" He nodded at the Mrs. and Dean and they held her by the wrists, outstretched between them.

The flogging began and so did Monica's dance. Blow after blow and finally her screams became less and less as her body became more welted. Her tits, stomach, thighs and legs were marked most cruelly, her bare sex left for the moment.

He dropped the flogger and stepped near her to rub and massage the most serious welts, digging in to make her whimper and keen.

"Open your legs." She couldn't comply through the pain so they made her. He began slapping her sex, putting his full weight into it, every few slaps he opened her and pinched her small hidden bud, just to hear a new cry.

"Bend her over again." He renewed the beating with slaps on her ass until Monica was too dazed to respond. He stepped behind her and rubbed his erection on her ass and slit, and gritted his teeth. How he wanted to fuck her cunt. Fuck her raw. But he'd have to be satisfied with her ass.

He spat on her rosebud and spat again in his hand rubbing spit onto his cockhead and her puckered hole. Holding her by one hip he guided his cock and pushed with steady force into her tight anus.

Monica revived with the new pain and threw back her head to howl as he ground into her ass and burst through her anal ring. With glee he drove into her, balls deep, grunting with satisfaction as she screamed and then seemed to faint. He looked down to where their bodies were joined and saw he'd torn her asshole and as he began to roll his hips against her, the blood eased his passage and lubricated her, letting him thrust as hard as he liked.

It also excited him, making his cock feel like steel and he thrust in her with more abandon, fucking her ass with a vengeance until he came, huge gouts of ropey cum splashing and coating the inside of her ass. Once, twice, three times he thrust forward, emptying his balls with a primal scream that made Mrs. Parks and Dean cringe.

When he'd softened, he pulled out. "Clean her up, stop the bleeding and take her to Malcolm's room. Get me when he gets home." He dropped his robe and went to take a shower.

[InnocentVirgin]

No feedback here yet except for the so-kind jwham...

Is this worth continuing?

[wolfshark77]

It's good. Please continue.

[Trill]

http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2007/02/1161118378057.jpg

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica regained a soupy kind of consciousness as she was half dragged from the chamber.

They took her to a bathroom and she stood swaying as Mrs. Parks and Dean cleaned her. She was brought back to reality when they bent her over and applied a harsh astringent cauterizing agent on her tortured asshole. Monica screamed and the sound echoed richly in the confines of the room and stopped only when Mrs. Parks dug her fingers into her throat, “Shut UP!”

Whimpering and crying Monica took the ministrations and suffered their attention until they pulled the gown back over her head, making her stand alone. Her thick hair was brushed and they took great care to make her presentable.

She was in hell and didn’t have the coping skills necessary to compartmentalize what was happening to her. Steady tears leaked from her eyes as she was drawn from the bath and walked down the hallway and up another set of stairs, each step agonizing.

The room they opened left her speechless.

It was a child’s room.

Specifically, a boy’s room. A huge room.

Framed posters of Japanese anime characters and boats and clowns adorned the walls. Built-in shelves held action figures and games, toys and comics. She recognized several state of the art gaming systems with some of the more simple games. Variations of games she herself had had as a child.

Dumbfounded, she offered no resistence as she was led inside and forced to sit on a board antique wooden rocker, but the hurt in her rectum caused her to cry out and raise up quickly only to be pushed down and held. When Mrs. Parks was certain she wasn’t going to be bolting back up they both moved around to either side of the chair to pin her down if she tried to get back up.

Monica’s ass started to seep blood and she took the pain, far too scared to move.

“My son is ...special,” Mrs. Parks voice held little emotion as she went on, “he is challenged. He's 24... with a mind of a 6 or 8 year old. ...I didn’t behave during my pregnancy and I think that was why...“ her voice lost some strength and sounded genuinely human for the first time.

“Mr. Parks is a firm disciplinarian,“ she continued, “consequently Malcolm was born early and not ...right. On the night of his birth...” her voice trailed off and she raised her hand to her scarred breast without realizing her action.

Further reminiscing became moot as the door was flung open and a new duo burst into the room.

A giant of a young man, close to being 7 feet tall stopped before her and looked at her with unabashed delight. He wore a “Got Milk” tee and jeans and carried a soggy cone of cotton candy in a huge sticky fist. His ballcap was worn backwards and he moved with a lack of grace. His face was good looking in a vague way and he absolutely horrified Monica.

“Dismanewbridey?” Monica didn’t understand for a moment and when she did she tried to rise and was abruptly pushed back in her seat, rocking back and crying out as her ass connected with the hard wood of the chair.

Sheprettee wedoidos?

That she couldn’t translate and only understood when Mrs. Parks answered, “Yes Malcolm, you’ll be doing I Do’s”

Oh my god, oh my god... Monica started to rock back and forth on the chair regardless of the pain in her backside and the steady seep of blood onto her lovely white gown.

[InnocentVirgin]

"Talk slowly, Malcolm." Mrs. Parks spoke in a voice that made it apparent she'd spoken the words countless times before. "No one can understand you."

"'kay Mudder." his cheerful agreement came quickly.

"Where Fadder? He stand wid me." On cue, the doorway was taken up by Mr. Parks.

"Ethan," Mr. Parks spoke to the man that came in with his son, "Get Malcolm cleaned up. He's ...eager to bring his bride to his bed." His appearance made Monica cringe and stop rocking.

She tried to fold in on herself, hiding herself but Mrs. Parks and Dean prevented her from any movement. She started sobbing and Mr. Parks was on her in a flash, "Shut up. You should be honored, you sniveling cunt."

Monica's mouth snapped shut and she looked at him with horror.

Ethan brought Malcolm back and they all gathered in front of Monica. Ethan, Dean, Mr. Parks and even Malcolm all had a strong family resemblance. Malcolm was by far the tallest and looked powerfully built for all his guileless demeanor.

Ethan moved aside a bit and asked in an oratorial voice if they were ready to begin.

"Yeah!" came Malcolm's enthusiastic response and he stood before Ethan.

Monica was dragged up and jack-walked until she stood by Malcolm; Mrs. Parks held her firmly and Mr. Parks stood with Malcolm.

NO, No, NO! Monica moaned as she stood. The blood dripped down her legs slowly as she stood.

"Do you promise to take care of Monica til death?"

"IDO"

Monica wasn't asked.

"Do you take this woman as your wife?"

"IDO"

It was clear they didn't want her input.

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

Malcolm turned happily to his new bride and smiled a gentle smile for all his bulk.

"Mrs. Parks and I will leave you now... Dean and Ethan? You can stay in case Malcolm has trouble, but no interference, if you interrupt, you'll regret it." Mrs. Parks had seen the blood and refrained from commenting on it as she and Mr. Parks left the room.

Ethan and Dean stood in front of the door after turning down the bed.

"We hafta fuck now. For babies." Malcolm took off his shirt and jeans, fumbling with his disabilities and innate clumsiness but stripping down in the end. His chest was broad and his middle a little soft, but otherwise he was a powerful man. With a boy mind.

His penis was soft and lay in the snarled curls of his groin. Big, even when soft certainly, but Monica couldn't even look at him as she stood swaying, willing herself from this room, from this life even.

She looked into the faces of Dean and Eathan by the door and found them expressionless. It clicked then.

"Please ...Malcolm is it? Don't do this to me..." She moved placing a small hand against his chest in supplication. "Please, help me..."

[prisonerslave]

i am in love with youre story. her innocence is pefect, and this is very surprising

[InnocentVirgin]

"S'ok, we married 'n you my bride now."

He didn't grasp that there was anything wrong with the situation.

Monica knew he didn't understand. She also knew that the two at the door would prevent her from leaving and were there to insure that she was bred proper so to speak.

She began bargaining with herself... If I just let him do it, it will be over sooner and I can try and find a way out... Or I could get him to like me and be my friend and maybe...

Endless scenarios she contemplated in a few moments.

In the end she allowed him to tug her arm until she was by the bed.

"Goan get in." Malcolm made a wide gesture toward the bed and nudged her until she started to get in. He went around the other side and crawled in, moving to the middle of the bed expectantly.

She lay with her arms primly across her chest.

In a flash he was on top of her, kneeing her legs apart looking down at her. She cried out as his weight settled on her for a moment, her ass and back were incredibly sore where Mr. Parks had beat her and Malcolm was quite a bit of weight. He held himself up on his arms with both of his legs between hers, taking most of his weight off her.

"We spo'ta kiss kissy now." His sloppy lips met hers and a huge shudder of revulsion racked her body. She couldn't help but groan.

Monica heard a gafaw from the door, "Suck her titties Malcolm, women like that." Ethan encouraged Malcolm in a slick voice. Monica looked toward him and saw that he watched with a leer. Dean looked at the floor.

Malcolm took up the challenge by lowering his head and mouthing her breasts through the thin gown, sucking enthusiastically while he earnestly rubbed his groin against the bed, then her leg.

Monica willed herself to die.

Bad enough that she'd been taken, stripped, chained, then isolated. Beaten and whipped, then anally raped in front of others. Now a drooling retarded man was going to fuck her and hopefully make her pregnant. She started crying in huge braying sobs.

"It only hurt a little bitty bit," Malcolm looked up from one of her tits, "Mudder says all brides hurt at first." He bent his head to the task at hand, sucking harder and biting first one than the other with more zeal.

"I almost ready, my willie al'mos hard. Fadder sez no call it a willie, IT'S A COCK!," he precisely enunciated those words, his father had probably drummed them into his head, much like the 'talk slowly', "but Mudder do'n like me say that word."

He shifted over on one side and grasp himself, "See? It bigger!"

And it was. Monica tried to backpedaled away from him, lunging and shifting in the bed to throw him off. He held her easily with a forearm across her chest as he tried to soothe her. "It won' hurt but lil'bit." If Mr. Parks was endowed with a big penis, then his son was gifted. Half-erect, it was almost the size of his father's.

"God may take some brains but he makes up for it in cock eh, Malcolm?" Ethan was avidly watching. The comment earned an elbow from Dean.

Malcolm reached and got the hem of her gown, pawing it up to her waist. He grasped his cock in his free hand and guided it to Monica's slit and pushed. His cock slid downward and he tried again after pushing her legs further apart. His grunts of exertion seemed at odds with his actual effort, but he kept poking and prodding at the entrance of her vagina with gusto, getting harder and grunting louder all the while.

He felt around Monica's opening and tried again with a mighty shove that sent his cock sliding harshly against her asshole, the fresh pain made her cry out. Again he prodded with his hefty rod and stopped short to look down between their bodies, trying to understand why he wasn't getting anywhere.

Then he saw the blood.

[InnocentVirgin]

There was a reason Mr. Parks didn't get virgins for his son.

They had a tendency to ...bleed. And his son was special.

Malcolm began to shake and a keening noise came from his chest. In an instant he was on his knees between Monica's legs, rubbing his face into the blood on her gown, pulling and ripping the material until he could suck the blood from it.

Monica recoiled in horror watching him, backing against the heavy headboard. Her eyes rolled to the door where she saw Eathan with his cock in his hand, pumping slowly as he watched with a leer. Dean still looked at the floor.

The blood on the gown wasn't enough for Malcolm and grabbed her, forcing her down as he licked and slobbered up her legs to her ass, grunting and slurping, holding her legs apart with a grip that was impossible for her to break.

She started screaming and startled Malcolm from his feast, he slapped her once, twice, three times to shut her up. "You scared me!" He flipped her over and pulled her to her knees to bury his face between her buttocks, as the blood stopped flowing he groaned his distress and pushed his fingers into her asshole, almost begging for the blood to flow again.

Again and again, his fingers stretched her asshole, renewing the blood he feverishly desired he pulled out and he sucked her ass, moaning all the while.

He didn't leave go from her ass until her knee slid and mashed his fully erect cock against his leg. In a flurry of movement with none of his clumsiness so in evidence earlier, he was between her legs and shoving his massive cock into her dry hole. With every thrust she screamed fresh, and he didn't seem to hear her any more.

He shoved into her until he was balls deep, using his considerable weight to force himself well past the point of when he should have stopped.

Her pain was excruciating.

It didn't stop there either... Once all the way in, he renewed his assault on her asshole, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck the blood off them.

Monica screamed until her voice broke and she went... away. Her mind gave her a room of her own and it was filled with the things she loved. Her only movement was reaction to his thrusting, her face a vacant blob that was pushed down into the mattress on each stroke.

[justmetoo]

Keep up the great work.

[InnocentVirgin]

Slowly she came back. A heavy weight pinned her lower body in place. When she moved and tried to push herself up, she cried out. Pain in every limb, her ass, her pussy, her face swollen.

She opened her eyes with reluctance. All she could see was a part of the headboard and the sheets. 'That's my blood,' she looked in horror. She couldn't move because Malcolm was stretched out over the lower half of her body.

She hitched in a breath and tried shimmying out from under his bulk.

Moaning, she managed to get out from under him.

Her moans brought a response from the door.

"Look who's awake." Monica didn't remember this man. He stood with his feet apart in front of the door. "Get up," he spoke in a soft voice ringed with steel. "Don't wake him."

Monica crawled to the edge of the huge bed and tried to stand, crumbling and crying out. Malcolm shifted on the bed and huffsnorted in his sleep, his hips pumped sheet obscenely for a moment and he was still.

The new man picked her up without obvious effort and took her into the bathroom she'd been in before. She was unceremoniously dumped into a bath and she huddled there. Mrs. Parks appeared on cue and began washing her, her impassive face giving no clues.

"It seems my son wasn't exactly a gentleman." She rubbed shampoo into Monica's scalp. "He gets like that with blood."

She made Monica stand and roughly washed her crotch and made her bend over to look at her ass. Monica gripped the side of the tub and started crying again as Mrs. Parks impersonal hands spread her buttcheeks. The bathwater was tinged with blood. "You'll have to stitch her up, Bert." Her matter of fact voice stated the obvious and she continued, "Bert used to be a doctor, now his only patient is Malcolm ...and you."

"Get out." In her weakened state she couldn't. Mrs. Parks nodded to Bert and he hauled her up, wrapping her in a huge towel.

She was dried and taken back down to the room she'd been taken for her first washing, this time strapped to a table with stirrups.

Mrs. Parks and Bert conferred as they inspected her. And Monica only heard snatches. "Please, can't you let me go home? I want to go home... I want to go home... " her voice grew louder and she begged until Bert gave her a shot.

"I'll stitch her up, she shouldn't have solid food, and she should be given an enema at intervals. Antibiotics. Her vagina is bruised and lascerated but nothing like her rectum, so that needs only cleaning.

"If Malcolm stays away from her rectum, she should be ok for him to use her vaginally."

Mrs. Parks nodded and left him to his work and went to find her husband.

To say he wasn't pleased would be an understatement and Mrs. Parks took the sadist's beating without a sound. It wouldn't have been prudent to point out the obvious - that Mr. Parks had caused this situation with his fucking the girl's ass.

It would have fallen on deaf ears.

[InnocentVirgin]

Words... words... weaving in and out of the buzzing in her ears.

"...gonna hurt, yessiree... lucky, I say...could be shitting in a bag and then where would you be?"

Monica woke to these words that made no real sense. Her eyes were shut but she sensed movement around the room. "Please," she croaked opening her eyes against the bright light, "can't you help me?"

"Help ya? I'm fixing ya ain't I? I knocked ya out, didn't I? I could have kept ya awake and stitched ya." Bert answered in a voice that was out of place to say the least. He could be discussing a carburetor or new speakers or anything but his ministering to a kidnapped, tortured and raped girl. With perfect calm he adjusted the IV drip connected to her arm. She focused on the face with the voice.

"My Dad could give you money, you could call him and I wouldn't say anything about you being here. I would just say you helped me... not anything else."

"I don't think so, Miss.. er.. whoever ya are." He stepped back between Monica's legs and reached up to turn a knob.

Monica couldn't feel below her waist. She could only watch in puzzlement when her belly became distended and bloated. "Wha...What are you doing to me?"

"Enema. Ya aren't gonna be eating solids for a bit and ya were dehydrated, so I'm liquidatin' ya and even put some vitimans and antibiotics into ya.

"Mr. Parks ain't all that pleased ya got busted up back there, even though what I hear he did mos' of it hisself."

"Mister, please, PLEASE! I'll do anything, can't you just help me? PLE..." Her voice stopped with the whizzing clang of a tray and instruments striking the cement floor.

"GODDAM IT. SHUT UP!" he whirled around from the now empty instrument table and advanced on Monica until his face was next to hers. "I can't fucking help myself or my sister, how THE FUCK am I supposed to help you?" Gone was the good ole boy accent. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on her face. His hands dug into his hair and scalp and he turned with a jerk to pace around the table.

"That's my SISTER he's beating and maiming. And I can't do a fucking thing about it. SO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He strode to stand between her legs and lowered the end of the table with a sharp movement sending her lower body down with a crash. He pulled the tube from her rectum and stepped back quickly as she voided.

His sudden temper went the way of the shitty water, his shoulders slumped. "Just do what he wants. It hurts less."

And Bert finished cleaning her up, unhooked her IV and made her ready for whatever was next.

It was becoming too much for Monica. She wondered listlessly how much more she could take and found ... she couldn't seem to care.

[InnocentVirgin]

Led to her 'room' she was chained again. Monica had no idea what time of day it was, or if it were night. She slept some, curled on her side and woke when Dean brought her a tray.

Broth and jello. Invalid food.

Even the smell of it made her start to retch.

He put the tray aside and spoke softly, "You should just do as they say and not make any trouble."

Monica looked up at him, a silent plea.

He shook his head. "I can't get involved with you. He's ... I can't. Just do as he says."

He looked at his watch. "You have 30 minutes until you are expected upstairs. I'd eat something if I were you."

"Angelica.. Mrs. Parks, will be coming down in a few minutes."

He bolted the door on the way out, leaving Monica to sob until her sobs tapered off to sniffles.

BAM!

The door crashed open and Mr. Parks strode in dragging a weeping and disheveled Mrs. Parks behind him. Her hair was in tangles and hid her face, gone was the careful grooming of earlier. He flung her into the room and she went in a rolling heap that ended against the far wall.

"Get up." He went to Monica's cot and looked down at her with contempt.

"I said GET UP, you miserable SLUT. Does every woman have to be so foul?" He yanked Monica up by her hair. "Show her." Mrs. Parks trembled as she fumbled to her knees. "SHOW HER." Her flinch made her head hit the concrete, but she got up and started unbuttoning her dress.

Monica tried not to twist in his grasp but it was impossible not to as he wound her hair in his fist to keep her head toward Mrs. Parks. She started whimpering when she saw the first marks.

Mrs. Parks stood and swayed, her head down and opened her dress. She didn't wear undergarments and it was soon apparent why when she held her dress open.

Her body was a mass of bruised flesh. Bite marks went across her chest down to her belly and thighs. Some were scabbed over, others were blue/black where the flesh hadn't torn, just been bruised. She been whipped, the lashes visible on her thighs.

"Take it off and turn around, Dear." Mrs. Parks shuddered at the endearment, but complied and let the dress slip down her arms as she turned. From her neck to her knees were livid welts, some of these were crusted over with dried blood. The only place not welted was her buttocks.

Bite marks took up the room there.

"Show your face, Darling." Her cringe was horrible. If one listened closely a soft moan of utter defeat would be heard.

"Smile."

Mrs. Parks turned around again and lifted her chin.

Her nose was swollen all out of proportion and her left eye shut. Her lips were cracked and raw looking. She looked like she'd been in some terrible disfiguring accident.

Monica watched in stunned horror. When she realized Mrs. Parks was trying to smile she started to keen. 3 or 4 teeth were missing on the left side of her mouth.

"This is what happens when you don't obey." Mr. Parks got his hand free of Monica's hair and stepped back.

"Get your dress back on ... Dear." He smiled ... almost ...benignly as he watched her slow struggle to bend to retrieve and then get her arms into the dress.

Mrs. Parks did all this without a single tear.

"Go get fixed up... Dear." His voice held humour now. "Monica and I are going to get to know each other better."

Monica huddled on her knees.

Mr. Parks shut the door and stood before it. "Now, stay on your knees and come to me, little slut. You're going to blow me. And it better be the best blow job of my life." He took his cock from his trousers and started stroking it. "I guess I don't have to tell you what happens if it isn't."

[touriquet2001]

very nice story , i hope you keep going IV

[InnocentVirgin]

very nice story , i hope you keep going IV

Thank you.. And thank all of you for the feedback.

I will continue.

S.

[InnocentVirgin]

This. Is. Hell. and It's. Cold. And he's a monster. Monica's disjointed thoughts were inaccurate on the one hand and totally appropriate on the other.

When one thinks of hell, wouldn't the fiery pit be an accurate assessment?

But if you think about it... cold steel, an icy glance, frozen stare, ice-cold shock... all are cold, bitter and binding. It takes no real leap of imagination to envision a pair of cold, steely eyes morphing into horrific orbs of frigid intent.

Mr. Parks has been perfecting the art of sexual sadism for decades.

He's the poster child of a sexual sadist. He'd never admit it. One with such a self-indulgent perverse personality wouldn't be content with a label that others could share. And in this personality was real cold, real ice. An inability to empathize with others. His feelings of superiority - that the rest of the world was irrelevant and there for his pleasure, was ingrained bone deep.

He knew he received only momentary pleasure and it was due entirely to others' incompetence and stupidity.

The only way Monica was able to edge forward was the fresh image of Mrs. Parks, she of the mangled breast and bite riddled body, seared into her memory. She moved slowly towards Mr. Parks, dragging the chain that tethered her to the floor behind her as a bitch attached to a frayed barnyard rope would. Not to lick the foot of her master, but to open her mouth for his cock.

He knew that she knew she'd never be able to perform this particular task well, any effort would be novice at best.

What he relished as jewels to be collected, were her defeated tears as she crawled toward him. They were balm to his mutilated soul and momentarily seemed to patch the flaw.

What he didn't understand is that the jewels he collected so avidly were transient and mere... ice at best.

They'd soon melt and he'd be as flawed and raw as before, in search of more stimuli to address his growing dysfunction.

She expects to be beaten no matter what she does.

For now, her defeated tears allowed him to stop her with an impeccable wingtip on her shoulder. It felt so good to see her like this.

A few jerks and grunts, he came all over her face.

[InnocentVirgin]

I've not been feeling well lately - sinus' have backed up. Ew.

Monica isn't finished if you all still want more. ;)

[prisonerslave]

and oh how i want more :D

[jwham]

More, Definitely, Without doubt.

[wolfshark77]

more please!

[InnocentVirgin]

Sometime between the first spray of his cum to strike her face and the last, Monica sparked. A little bit of undefeated fury lodged in her stomach, hidden even from herself.

Mr. Parks looked at her face, cum spattered and drawn and abruptly changed, “You aren’t fit to go to my son looking like a whore... Clean up and someone else will take you.

“A cunt looking like you, sickens me.” With this he turned on his heal and left.

Pulling herself upright she did go to the sink and washed away his spend and her tears. She stood against the back wall of the room and thought about how much she wanted to be away from here, how much she’d like seeing Mr. Parks bloody and dead.

Far too soon Dean came to lead her to Malcolm’s realm of unreality. He handed her a gown - white again to put on and with dragging feet she stepped through the doorway. She wouldn’t look at the bed or Malcolm who sat on the edge of the bed with his massive cock in his hands - getting hard for her.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, please...” her prayer under her breath probably wasn’t heard.

Dean led her forward, “Get on the bed.” He’d been given explicit instructions and positioned a shaking but compliant Monica as told.

When he moved to strap her ankle - she struggled briefly - until Malcolm leaned over her.

“Fadder says is best for babies like this. So be like a good wifey and be good or you gonna be in trouble.” Monica stilled, remembering the pain he’d inflicted on her when he saw her blood - and what Mrs. Parks looked like. She willed herself to sink within, forget, pass out - anything to get out of the reality that was about to be.

Dean hoisted up her other leg and piled a couple of Spiderman pillows under her ass, pooling her gown to her hips and exposing her pussy. Malcolm’s cock twitched and he started to grunt and work his hips forward in Pavlovian response.

Before Dean was at the door he was on her, driving his huge cock into her dry, torn and bruised opening, Monica screamed until Dean pushed a section of sheet into her mouth, turning her screams to muffled huffs. Malcolm held her by the tits in a vise grip while he sawed into her, damaging and brutalizing until he couldn’t get any further. He tore her again and there was blood... but he didn’t see it as he came in great globs, filling her vagina. He slumped on her making her groan as his body forced her legs further apart and his full weight pulled at her ankles in the straps.

Malcolm barely softened before he was pumping her again, a pink flow of mingled semen and blood seeping steadily from her. With the lubrication it didn’t hurt quite as much - but every stroke was hell and pain and humiliation anyway. All a matter of degree.

Monica stayed awake and aware throughout the ordeal, endlessly open to his pounding and spunk dumps. She stopped crying and wished dully she were dead. With each thrust her mind said... 'dead'...'dead'...'dead'...

He rolled off her finally and Dean told him he couldn’t sleep there - he was going to take him to another bedroom and Malcolm was led like a sleepy child from the room, unprotesting and fisting his tired eyes.

When he returned he looked at Monica then away quickly, “Mr. Parks says you have to stay like that for a while... for the best possibility of conception.” His face mottled with the color of brick and his hands were strangely gentle as they removed the sheet from her mouth.

For 4 or 5 or 7 or 9 nights, Monica lost track, this was repeated. She didn’t see Mr. or Mrs. Parks only Dean and Malcolm and an occasional visit for a shot by Bert.

The act became less painful and as it did Monica began to change.

Left alone naked for some 20 hours a day, only eating and sleeping and being raped - she began to touch herself. She was beginning to think of herself in the way Mr. Parks had defined her. A cunt to be used. She masturbated to pass the time. Not thinking, just climaxing. It did have a benefit - being lubed up with her own wet kept the act from being so painful. Her little lump of defiance was still smoldering, but unclaimed.

She didn’t climax with Malcolm's avid use of her but she remembered exactly the time when he slid across her clit and she felt pleasure mingled with the pain of his cock. Her whole body jerked and she flushed with sudden sexual heat.

And she cried with her body’s betrayal.

[rosielawson]

More please.

[InnocentVirgin]

Another week or two? of rape.

How long had she been here? She had no idea. Monica didn't think about her prior life except in rare instances when she'd dreamed of it. So much now was just the same. No real interaction except for a retarded rapist - that never seemed to tire of her. Every night she was brought to him. Same position, same scenario. It was mind-numbing.

Almost in defense she began to feel pleasure when he fucked her.

When Malcolm started pounding on her, she'd wiggle on him, trying to scratch the itch she'd developed since masturbating. Her cunt would clutch at his cock and squeeze until she came silently. It always made him cum and served to shorten her stays with him as well as provide some relief from the utter tedium.

She no longer tried to talk with him and answered Dean when asked a direct question.

It could be said that perhaps this was the time her personality became quite fractured. On the one hand, that knot of hatred grew steadily without her knowing it, on the other, she didn't care about anything but getting through a day alive.

Dean didn't chain her to the floor anymore. There wasn't any need.

One evening she woke late. She'd napped after her dinner and orgasms. Dean didn't come for her. Monica didn't have a watch or clock but the routine had been so ingrained that she knew it was late. She prowled around restlessly and nearly pounced at the door when it rattled and finally opened.

It was Bert. He led her to the exam room and helped her up on the table. He reeked of alcohol and moved unsteadily around the room, Monica barely noticed. He spread her legs and stirruped each. It was akin to the movement she felt in the ankle straps in Malcolm's room so Monica's knees automatically opened and presented her cunt. "Jes'christ." Bert mumbled.

He drew blood with a shaking hand before examining her ass, taking out the stitches that probably should have been removed a week ago. He noted no infection and chalked it up to the antibiotics she'd been given in her meals.

Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves he used a finger and gave her a pelvic, pushing down on her abdomen, checking her womb.

Monica immediately began pumping up on his hand and using her vaginal muscles to clutch at his finger, moaning and writhing like a two-bit whore. Bert jerked back and away as fast as he could, like her pussy held daggers. "Chris'-o-mine what they dun to you, girl?" He shook his head sadly and he watched with shame as Monica replaced his finger with her own and fucked herself, masturbating furiously.

He snapped off the gloves and rummaged in a table until he blearily loaded a syringe and with the utmost care put it back on the table.

When Monica finished, he got her up and made her piss in a jar before leading her back to her cell and locking the door.

In his exam room Bert fumbled and almost sloshed the entire urine sample to the floor. He managed to save enough for the pregnancy test. He was surprised to find himself weeping. He'd have thought he didn't have any tears left for anyone after his sister, but he cried for Monica.

He sat swaying in his office chair with the syringe before him and stared first at it then the stick that was sticking out of the urine.

With a heavy and defeated sigh he shot up, knowing it would be positive - he didn't bother looking before doping and numbing himself to his sister and now... Monica.

[touriquet2001]

that was great , thank you ... more . more !!!!

[InnocentVirgin]

Back in her cell, it dawned on Monica why she'd peed in a cup and had blood drawn.

Her life came rushing back, her new apartment, her divorce, her abduction and the horrible things she’d been forced to do and ...the wreck of Mrs. Parks.

Her face flamed and she cried out with shame as she remembered her behaviour with ...the Dr. - Bert wasn’t it? She jerked her hand away from her sex as she saw even now, unknowingly, she’d been toying with her clit.

In a flurry of movement, she rushed to the sink and scrubbed every inch of her body, panting and panicked, blindly hystericial with the desire to clean this place off her and to rid herself of her own shame. Over and over she scrubbed and rinsed, head to toe, scrub - rinse... scrub - rinse, until parts of her were red and raw. She scrubbed until exhausted and she sank to knees, her hands covering her face. She howled like an animal in distress.

Then came the hate.

It shot without mercy straight from her center and radiated out with a force that brought her to her feet. Adrenalin dumped into her veins and her body became taut as steel. Always petite - she’d lost what little body fat she had with her invalid’s diet, but she’d been working out in a sense. Masturbating and fucking and pacing. She looked at herself in the mirror - the first time she’s met her own eyes in weeks.

Her face had become all sharp angles - gone were the pudgy cheeks that had always earned her a pinch by her Grandma. The unflattering light cast deep shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and her hair was longer. She nearly hummed with rage as she inspected her body, wincing at her ass and vulva, the two parts of her most damaged.. except for her mind.

But - she was healing - almost fully recovered physically. And pregnant. Like good old Dr. Bert. She didn’t need a test to confirm it.

Abruptly the chemical high of adrenalin left her and make her feel nauseous.

Monica curled up on her bunk, huddled in her green blanket and ...began thinking again.

She was left alone, with only meals - full ones sent down - nourishing and plentiful - she kept thinking. A week, two - she kept track now - scraping a small notch in the wall under her bunk.

Thinking.

- - - - - - - - - -

The world upstairs in it’s splendorous and tasteful, if not ostentatious, decor was in sharp contrast with Monica’s cell below.

Mrs. Parks tread couldn’t be heard and only the change in air currents would betray her silent appearance in a room. She had new teeth, a bridge, her husband had been kind enough to arrange that. Her bruises and bites and welts were faded, a greatly faded green. Barely discernible and easily covered by clothes and makeup. She appeared as she was before...the incident. Monica. That’s what she called every episode of her husband after.. The Incident of ... a. b. c. But of course, only in her mind. The only person that knew her inner turmoil - if only a mere fraction was Bert. And she tried to keep most of it from him. Impossible, but she tried.

She visited all the rooms, saving her son’s for last.

She covered a leg thrown out from the Yugioh quilt, specially made for a bed this size, and bent to kiss his scratchy cheek. He still slept like a child, limbs splayed and happy, if you didn’t notice the huge hard-on. A deep breath and Mrs. Parks avoided looking, opting to pull the covering more tightly under his chin.

She kissed him again, certain that if he’d been ...normal... she’d be the most proud parent and she would have taken him far away from ...this. She stood over his bed and allowed herself a brief daydream.

She left him finally and silently - silently - gathered what she needed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dean found her.

Hanging in a back mud room. Even as she planned her death, Mrs. Parks had determined that room to be the easiest ...to clean up.

[InnocentVirgin]

Days went into weeks again and she wasn't bothered often. Dean came in once and explained that she was anemic and from now on would get pills for it. Monica stayed docile and nodded. He also began bringing her books which she eagerly accepted. He brought her glasses and clothes, sleepware and slippers. Each time she was told they were compliments of Mr. Parks and gifts to reward her obedience. Squelching the urge to rip them to shreds, Monica wore them.

This was her prison, no different perhaps than Sing Sing or Attica in some ways. Better food, certainly.

She started exercising as a way to combat boredom. Stretching and running in place. Pushups, situps. She ate hugely of the food provided. She had a week or two of morning sickness and her breasts ached. And she ran the realm of human emotions. Horrible anger, wretchedness, panic. Even some days she dreamed away entirely, lost in a book. Others? Barely contained fits of manic exercising. Through this all, she plotted. Some were outlandish and purely fanciful. She broke her glasses in a fit of rage - and didn’t care. There was nothing to see.

Other times she wondered if anyone was looking for her. Monica wasn’t really close to her parents, but even so, this was a long time without speaking, writing or something.

Her pregnancy began to show. Just a small bulge, at first, but undeniable given her natural slenderness. She watched it grow, without passion.

And grow it did.

- - - - - - - - -

Many would have called the death of Mrs. Parks, murder. Her brother Bert did. It took 2 hours of painful persuasion by Mr. Parks to get him to agree to call the death accidental and since he was a physician and supposedly present (a little more persuasion) at her death, there was no autopsy. No pesky state coroner. Her remains were cremated and no memorial service held. Just a press release stating her death was by accident and Mr. Parks was unable to receive people, he was grieving. Donations to the Cancer Society would be greatly appreciated.

Flowers and condolences were heaped on the household and Mr. Parks refused to let them be disposed of until the blooms were entirely spent. He took particular glee with one specifically, simply signed - Jinny and Albert Cavanaugh. That was rich. Monica’s parents.

Malcolm was inconsolable when he finally understood that his mother was dead and not coming back and Bert was roused from his constant drunken and drugged state to minister to him.

- - - - - - - - - - -

He sat with a sniffer of brandy in the same robe he’d worn when... anally introduced to Monica.

The bitch was pregnant.

And he, a merry widower. All in all, things were working out for the best. He poured more brandy and toasted himself.

Just what could he do in a situation like this? He drained the glass and laughed. Why, what any gentleman would do. Perhaps it was time to have a chat with his houseguest. Can’t have a bastard running around. He had a reputation to uphold.

[rosielawson]

I'M SPEACHLESS, you really show talent, this is really GREAT, I can't find words to say how wonderful it is. Please keep going.:o yes embarrasment but only because as a woman I can't help but want to get another peek even though I shouldn't. By the way I apologize for the angry face on my last reply. Please keep going.

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica's eyes flew open in the dark, startled from a dreamless sleep. One thing for her pregnancy, she'd ceased having nightmares and strange dreams. Now she slept in huge, wonderful chunks.

But what woke her?

She lay awake, on her side staring into the room, lit only by a faint orange nightlight Dean had brought her, and tried to figure out what woke her. What was wrong exactly.

That made her almost laugh. What could possibly be wrong? She was – for all intent – a baby making prisoner in the basement of a sadistic crazy man. Her body used and abused without her consent.

There.

Her hands flew under the sheets and against her abdomen. She felt it. A tiny flutter.

Life.

She hadn't thought about being a mother... or really allowed herself to contemplate what this pregnancy was to her. She had...treated herself in a way, much like Mr. Parks did. As a carrier. But she'd distanced herself like she was just a bystander with no real stake in the outcome. But in this still, quiet, time – the little patch of night that belonged to her – she woke up fully.

And as quickly as her baby moved, she loved it. And wanted it. Regardless of how it was conceived.

Monica fell asleep with her hands cradling her tummy and a faint smile on her lips as she waited for the next little movement.

When she woke again, Dean was bringing in her breakfast. Rising quickly, she sat and started eating, talking around a mouthful of banana, “I appreciate the books you bring me, can I make a request?”

“I can ask Mr. Parks. He's been choosing your reading material.” Dean didn't meet her eyes.

“I'm pregnant,” she blurted, turning red as she realized she stated the obvious. “I mean, I know you know that...what I mean is that I'd like to learn about pregnancy, in general. For the baby.”

Dean looked at the floor and fisted his hands, holding in some emotion. He didn't trust himself to speak and nodded before almost stumbling out of the room. 'The bastard...' he thought as he tried in vain to stem the anger that he felt building over the years. Like bricks, the inhuman treatment of others, the blackmail, the torture and rapes... each were stacked, laid one upon another. His anger was directed mostly at himself, but every now and then, he felt it for his brother and … then berated himself even more at his inability to stop him from ruining more people. Killing more.

This last one.. Monica. Picked for her blood. The so important quality Jarred prized over everything. Only the oldest, most prominent would do. The failed attempts were of 'good' blood too. You'd think these families would realize .. someone would piece it together... But he was too clever. Brilliant actually. Jarred picked the ones least likely to be missed quickly, and left enough evidence at their homes to push suspicion on someone else.

It was only one hold he had on Dean. He had many others to ensure his ...loyalty.

Dean scrubbed his face with his hands and pushed off the door to start his morning round of duties. He hadn't told Monica about the death of Mrs. Parks, seeing no need to frighten her any more than necessary. Dean feared what was coming next.

And was unsurprised when Mr. Parks caught him in the upper hall. “Come inside Dean.”

“I've made a decision. Since I've become... single, there isn't a need for Monica to have a bastard. I plan on marrying her as soon as possible. You'll be a witness.”

Dean nodded. Exactly as he figured.

“Do sober up that miserable sot. He's going to be a witness too.” Dean was dismissed with a chin nod toward the door.

[InnocentVirgin]

Stretching lightly, Monica smiled a little. No touching her toes for the duration, obviously. Her belly had become quite large. Once past her 1st trimester, Bert was roused and did an exam. His pronunciation that all was well didn't really make Monica feel one way or another. She knew she was fine and that the baby was great and growing well. What she did long for was sunlight and fresh air.

Already pale, her skin now was almost eerily white. All she needed was some black eyeliner and she'd be the envy of goth girls everywhere. But she worried, even with supplements, that the child may not be getting all he or she needed.

She'd been docile and not had any more tantrums or manic exercise episodes. She'd read the books Dean had brought her cover to cover and was corralling her courage to ask Dean if she could speak to Mr. Parks about her situation. Sunshine and a bit of freedom in exchange for her continued good behavior and a promise to safeguard the child. God knows she didn't have any other bargaining chip.

Dean brought a pad with him one morning and asked her to write down what she thought was necessary to ease her pregnancy. Her plan of bartering for time outside became moot when he informed her she was to be let out in the courtyard daily – weather permitting. Monica grew still and then agitated when she realized she didn't know how long she'd been held by Mr. Parks. She'd faithfully notched the wall under her bunk, but never counted it. She could estimate time by her belly, but for all she knew it could be late fall, winter or ...later.

“What's today? The date?” she asked Dean in a quiet voice.

“February 27,” he answered.

“I've been here since the 1st of October? It doesn't seem...real.” She sank down on the bed and leaned over to run her fingers across the notches she'd gouged between the bed and the wall. She started to cry, not with a big show, but silent tears - for the time and innocence she'd lost. She wept silently into her hands.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. For all the crying she'd done, the wailing and screaming fits, the anguishing cries of one in pain, this silent weeping was more awful. He'd watched a shy, lovely young woman tormented and raped and mistreated by his brother and been an accomplice. Unwillingly and under duress, but still a ...prison guard. He tried to be dispassionate about his brother's activities and hardened to their grief and pain. But Dean was a kind man at heart. He was caught in a web of deceit and sadism by blood and ambition. Monica thawed the ice with which he'd encased his heart. She'd chipped away at him since her arrival and now, this steady weeping was more than he could take.

He sat next to her on the bed and held her, pulling her against his broad chest until his shirt was soaked with her tears, and patted her back awkwardly.

Jarred watched them from the door. Was everyone so easily manipulated? Was he the only one that could see it? He almost laughed out loud. So Dean had feelings for Monica? It was like life just planned these things for his benefit. His handsome mouth curled with glee. It would make it that much easier to keep the two of them in line.

He pushed the door open with a crash that made both of them jump and strode in the room.

“Glad you are still here, Dean. You can be the first to congratulate Monica.” He sauntered further into the room and leaned idly against the table. “I don't suppose that Dean's told you Monica... but I've recently become a widower...

“I know, I know... but you can save your condolences.” Monica's mouth opened but she couldn't think of anything to say.

“The late Mrs. Parks, God Rest Her Soul,” he said with fake reverence, “decided to end her own life and, well, I guess that makes me very ...eligible.”

He pushed off the table and addressed Dean, “Go now, you can congratulate us later.”

Emotion was hidden in Dean. Years of kowtowing to his brother ensured a good facade, but Jarred knew what it cost him to be dismissed this time.

“So, instead of you carrying my son's son. You, Monica, will carry my son.

“It's worked out well you see? No one knows of my... inability to father a child and you will just have been a secret mistress I've maintained. Since my wife has died, a very timely death, we can marry and the boy will have a name from day one. No need to adopt or fancy another story along.

“It'll be a bit of scandal, but... even the greatest dynasties have scandal. And who would say anything to my face? I bought the last 2 governors. So they can speculate, hell, they can exhume the woman if they doubt her manner of death – but I doubt it would come to that. No, a 7 day scandal... They can speculate on when we wed and whatever, but … it doesn't matter in the end does it?

Monica heard all this out and it didn't … make sense. She understood the words.. but …

“So,” he stood before her now, looking down, “I think sooner would be better don't you?” He bent and ran his hand from the front of her neck to her nape, a deceptively gentle touch that ended when he grabbed her by the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her up. “You don't have a choice Monica. Well, now – that isn't exactly true. Of course you have a choice. Let me outline them for you...

“One, you become the blushing Mrs. Parks and have my child. All is well, people will envy you. I'm quite rich. You can shop until you exhaust yourself. But you play by my rules.

“Two, you decide to decline my generous offer of making an honest woman of you. In that case you will bear the child and be ...disposed of.” He paused and looked directly into eyes that shimmered with more tears.

“The former is preferable, surely. The latter... will be painful at best. Excruciating at worst.”

He dropped her like a soiled napkin in a heap on the bunk.

“Decide. I'll give you an hour or so.”

He left her.

[touriquet2001]

nice twists in this , looking forward to see where you take it . thank you

[InnocentVirgin]

I'M SPEACHLESS, you really show talent, this is really GREAT, I can't find words to say how wonderful it is. Please keep going.:o yes embarrasment but only because as a woman I can't help but want to get another peek even though I shouldn't. By the way I apologize for the angry face on my last reply. Please keep going.

nice twists in this , looking forward to see where you take it . thank you

I hope you know how gratifying it is to receive such feedback. I really appreciate it. All of you that have taken the time to leave a note or rep me.

Thanks so much.

[wolfshark77]

The twists and turns definitely grab and keep my attention. That and the fact that it's written well. Thanks for the story--so far... looking forward to more!

[justmetoo]

You're doing a wonderful job on this. Thanks for all the work you've been putting into this.

[InnocentVirgin]

And she stayed where he'd dropped her for as long as it took her brain to organize his words to meaning. Real meaning... that translated into how she fit in the scheme of his self serving world. That she was nothing but a vessel – was obvious. He didn't have a problem using her for his pleasure and indeed, enjoyed her pain and shame. Reveled in it.

But when that would have made her cringe and wish for death, she had a life to protect. Be it a child of rape or not... it was an innocent. Her fear of Mr. Parks and what he could do to her didn't diminish. Indeed, it grew for now she feared for someone else.

Monica hadn't missed that Dean had become a ... tenuous ally – maybe. Push came to shove, she probably couldn't trust him, but she'd garnered some sympathy at least. That she may be able to use. Resolutely she pushed down the part of her that told her using Dean would make her akin to Parks – she didn't need to hear that.. She needed all the help she could get.

She got up carefully, bracing herself and sat and waited for his return. She'd agree. As if she had a choice. He was still a sadist. And prone to violence. If she could hang on and … figure out … how to proceed...

- - - - - - -

Upstairs, Mr. Parks was finished his final set on his stair climber and accepted a towel from Ethan. “It's working out well Ethan. She's about 4 months... If you can believe that drunken idiot. Tell me why I married into such a family?” he didn't expect an answer and Ethan didn't give him one. He headed to the shower and called out to Ethan, “Get Dean up here... No... wait.”

He paused and thought a moment and his sly ugly smile made his face look sinister. He was interrupted by a crash in the hallway and both Ethan and Jarred went to see what the disturbance was.

Malcolm stood next to the hall table by his mother's room. A broken vase at his feet. If he moved he'd get cut badly. But that wasn't the worst of it. He stood with a vacant expression, in his underpants and playing with his cock. That he took the death of his mother hard, would be an understatement. That his father, being as self-absorbed as he was.. thought of the solution he did... was perhaps typical.

“Goddam it, get him a fucking whore or something – and where is Dean? One of you should be watching him.” He turned on his heal and left Ethan to deal with Malcolm. Before heading back into his room he stopped and turned, “Bring Monica and Dean up here.. In about an hour.” He didn't have doubt that Monica would agree. But it was time to do some testing...

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica stood silently, listening to the instructions Ethan related in a leering voice. On the floor in front of her, her own travel bags. "It was good of my brother to arrange getting your things, don't you think pretty Monica? Although I must say I found most of it tasteless. I packed up for you - didn't you know? Months ago, little mouse."

He watched her fumble in the bags.. until she found what Mr. Parks had specified. A silly, frilly set of lingerie she'd gotten at her bridal shower. She'd laughed at it then, embarrassed and quite certain she'd be married forever before she had the nerve to wear it.

Given the circumstance of her marriage - she never even took it out of it's protective paper and box. To say it was provocative ... was an understatement. Even the filmy robe that matched the outfit did nothing to add any modesty to it. It was black and red and quite unlike anything Monica would have chosen for herself.

She turned her back on Ethan and changed into it. If this was the price of staying alive and safe, she'd do it.

Ethan watched with avid intensity. He'd fuck her in a minute. He always did like them tiny and helpless. This pregnant wisp of a girl, what could be more helpless? He got hard just thinking how he could make her cry and howl.

But it wasn't his night for her. And now that Jarred had decided to marry her, he'd not get his chance. But he got to finish off the next whore he chose for Malcolm. Her cunt would be all used up ...but he'd have a fine time with her ass. And even a finer time giving her back to Malcolm afterwards.

"Paint your face, too. Like a whore - Glob it on. You got 20 minutes." He was soon bored with watching her, too horny... and decided to do something about it. Sure, it was a little risky...

He slipped into Malcolm's room and opening his trousers he took out his cock. Up on one of the shelves behind a toy was a jar of Fluffernutter. He spread it on his cock and went to the head of Malcolm's bed.

He jostled the mattress with a knee until a sleepy-eyed tousled-headed Malcolm woke up

"Un'le Efan?"

"Look Mal - your favorite! Eat it all up! Yeahhh.. yeah...

"And remember it's our secret, Father would be so angry with you having sweets this time of night... yeah..."

---------

Tucking himself back in his pants he went to get Monica to escort her to Jarred's suite. He passed the suite on the way and heard Jarred and Dean. Fuck, he'd love to hear what they were arguing about but he knew from experience that Jarred wouldn't take any excuse for tardiness.

But hell, he'd find out soon enough.

And a whore she did look. He laughed when he saw her.

Painted myopic eyes, owlishly looked out between her fall of hair. Ruby lips... pouty lips and garish blush. The sluttish peignoir pushed up her newly lush tits and her belly showed clearly. She tottered drunkenly on heels that weren't meant for walking and shame colored every inch of exposed skin. It may have taken most of her resolve to display herself like this.. but all she had to do was touch her stomach and feel the life there to renew it.

Ethan took her by the arm and led her up to Jarred's. He knocked briskly and opened the door revealing Dean, his lip bloody, and a grinning Mr. Parks.

"Ah.. the bride to be... come in! Come in!"

[touriquet2001]

although they are aspects added in i didn't like ... this is still a great story IMHO . good story , great writing , not being sure of what might happen next , etc ...

Thank You

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica couldn't hold his glance. His eyes greedily and gleefully taking in her appearance. Jarred congratulated himself, he'd been right in his assessment of Monica... that she'd comply. He chuckled at her inexpert use of cosmetics. She looked like a child playing dress-up. If one could discount the pregnant belly, of course.

"I see by your face your answer, my dear. Wise choice." Ethan made to draw her further into the room and Jarred stopped him with a shake of his head. He brushed by Dean and refilled a glass with brandy, taking it to the sofa before the fire.

"You've been obedient, if not terribly proficient. You've bred. And now you'll be my wife and bear my son. But..." his voice became soft and more sinister. "You need to show me how well you will obey. I need to know I can trust you."

Dean's face hardened and he immediately hid his expression. Jarred's hold over him carried weight and a lot of guilt. He was proficient at using any method in bending or breaking people to his will. The bloody lip was caused by questioning his action regarding Monica.

Early on, Dean was a target for Jarred. A thousand ways he'd made his childhood hell. The blame heaped on Dean, readily believed by a father that saw in Jarred a kindred spirit.. two sadists with no empathy towards others, only a selfish conviction that life owed them ...everything. And Ethan... ever willing to back Jarred, wanting only to come down on the side with the most power.

Carla was the first... that Jarred took to impregnate.

She happened to be the first woman Dean dated ... in years. His stab at normalcy. Jarred saw her and planned and took her. Blackmailing his brother with fabricated evidence of his guilt of the crime, to be used if necessary. Just in case Dean didn't tow the line.

Carla died a nasty death. Strangled by a drooling Malcolm, excited beyond imagining at her bleeding, then driven mad by her screams, he choked her until the screaming stopped.

Jarred had refined the technique and with Monica considered it a successful venture all around. That Angelica, Mrs. Parks, had died so... timely and efficiently... well that was just a plus.

Taken back from memory he heard Jarred continue, "Come here Bride To Be.... on your knees. Show me your willingness to be obedient in all ways and you will stay alive and be quite the envy of many."

Dean prayed that she'd do it.. just do it and get it over with. But Jarred, no doubt, wouldn't end it there.

Not before he'd seen to her utter humiliation and degradation. It's what he enjoyed the best.

Almost.

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica's life had prepared her ...for a more solitary existence. She'd been a loner since youth and kept mainly to herself. Jarred's enforced solitary confinement - while trying and nerve wracking didn't hurt near as much as the remembered pain of his humiliations. She'd freaked on her own, yes... but when she anchored she was resolved in her determination to keep her child safe. That meant herself as well.

She'd suffered shame - thinking she wasn't good enough for her parent's attention, but no real humiliation outside of her failed marriage.

So shame was what Mr. Parks had decided to use. He'd seen her vulnerability and outside of the fact she really was a little thing, he'd used shame and brute force to humiliate her and make her compliant.

He knew some focused on a baby, maternal instinct, but it was an intellectual knowledge he could appreciate but not feel himself. And he could have no idea of its depth. For one that couldn't empathize with anyone - the intensity of those emotions remain a mystery - unknown and unacknowledged - in his case.

He knew lust. He knew blackmail. He could spot vulnerability a mile off. He knew fear and capitalized on it.

If he'd every been afraid - it was early on and easily managed when he learned that manipulation allowed him to get away with quite literally... murder.

In the moments after he'd instructed her to crawl to him, Monica decided she could do it. If she drew on her resolve, she'd do it.

So she got ungracefully to her knees and began to crawl to him. Jarred seemed to stare at the fire but watched Dean carefully as emotion the color of brick stained his cheeks in hectic spots. Jarred smiled, and lowered his head as he sat but noted Dean's balled fists - ineffectual lumps at his sides. He heard Monica's approach as a whisper almost unheard over the crackling of the cheerful fire.

This was a very good moment for Jarred. He wanted Dean to be as humiliated as Monica.. shamed on her behalf.

She crawled until she was on her knees before him.

"Look, over there - there's my riding crop. Bring it to me, painted mouse.

"In your teeth... no hands."

I can do this, she thought and took a breath before gingerly crawling on all fours to the hassock where the crop lay. She had to nudge it with her nose and despite her resolve, her cheeks did flame. She crawled back with it in her teeth and waited. But she didn't show enough shame... It made him smile... he could work just as easily with fear and pain.

Taking the crop he patted her head like a dog. "Good girl." He brought the crop down hard on her ass. She cried out and cringed and he hit her twice more. Thwack! Thwack!

"Sit up and show me your tits."

Monica didn't move fast enough and as soon as she straightened up on her knees, he launched an assault on her breasts. She cringed away and a snap of his head brought Ethan to hold her upright.

She cried out sharply, nearly screaming. Her breasts were swollen and tender with hormones.

"Let her go." Ethan stepped back.

"Open your bodice and show me your tits." Her tears dropped onto her hands as she undid the stays and pulled her breasts free of the silk and satin. Some of the welts were as red as the material. "Please..." her voice was barely audible.

"You must respect me and my orders. Move quickly to do what I say." He dragged the crop over a nipple and watched it harden.

"Stand up and take it all off."

Monica stood and unfastened and removed the top then pulled the underwear down her thighs to step out of them. He took her in with a critical eye. Yes, she would be... hideous when the kid ripened. Her frame was small and already you could see how it poked out from her. His eyes went down and he saw ...pubic hair... and he was up off the sofa in a flash, he grabbed her by the skin and hair of her vulva and yanked up.

"Didn't you LEARN? DON'T you know basic HYGIENE? GodDAMMIT!" He pulled up again, making her cry out. He pushed her into Ethan who'd watched all with a wicked delight, his cock like steel in his pants at her treatment. And Jarred began to beat her breasts in earnest.

He stopped as abruptly as he started, flinging the crop away wildly.

"Get this dirty bitch cleaned up... DEAN."

[Grinningecko]

This is an excellent story...I love reading it...please...keep going...:skull-evi

[prisonerslave]

IV your stories keep bringing me back. Thank you!

[InnocentVirgin]

It may be a few days until I can have some 'alone' time for writing.

I hope you all stick with me. :skull-lov

[rosielawson]

No problem your doing great!:D

[TwistedMaster]

http://images.encyclopediadramatica.com/images/4/47/GatorMOAR.jpg

Very original, very sexy, and totally unique. Awesome story, keep it up!

[justmetoo]

Getting time to write stuff like this is hard. I know. This is the first afternoon I've had to do some writing in a very long time.

This is a great read. Keep going when you can.

[touriquet2001]

great updates to it IV !!!! please write more when you're able . we'll be waiting anxiously for the next part ....

thank you for writing and sharing this with us :skull-lov :skull-lov :skull-lov

[InnocentVirgin]

Ethan took the cue and shoved Monica at Dean and before he could get his arms out to keep her upright, she sprawled at his feet.

He hauled her up with shaking hands and she stumbled until he lifted her and carried her to the bath.

"You need to do as he says, Monica. I ... I can't help you. He has fabricated evidence on me to ruin me and many others."

She was a mess. Smeared whore makeup trailing down her face, puffy lipped and red-eyed. Her chest a mass of bruising flesh where he'd struck her repeatedly in a rage. It all happened so quickly, she wasn't even able to grasp most of Dean's words. "Wha..?"

She took in a shaking breath and tried again, "What does he want from me?"

Dean choked on an answer but kept it to himself and merely said what she already knew. "He wants to marry you and have Malcolm's son as his."

"But... Why?"

"Because it's the most important thing to him," he hesitated.

"...another Mr. Parks."

"But he knows already I would." Dean sponged off her face and tried to wipe the mascara from her raccooned eyes. She was just a young little naive thing, really. Way out of her league. He wrung out towels in cold water and applied them to her aching breasts. "I need to shave you, Monica. Otherwise it will be more hell than you want to know." He couldn't meet her eyes and looked away, shamefaced.

Somehow spreading her legs for Dean was more embarrassing and humiliating than being naked, sucking Mr. Parks' cock or any other of the acts she knew he'd watched. He was the only one, save the little spark offered by the doctor, that had treated her like a human in this house. Mr. Parks truly ruined all he touched, he stomped out the good in people until ...if they weren't evil like him, like Ethan, then they were broken like Malcolm and Mrs. Parks. And Dean.

What would she be, she wondered, her baby? She felt the cold steel of the razor on her labia and shuddered. Just what kind of life had she promised to her unborn? A life of degradation and misery? Warped until a carbon copy of the sadist he'd call father?

Resolve.

It was more important than ever to know everything about Mr. Parks. She'd have to play... his sick game. She'd have to do as he asked. She'd have to think about her situation again and what she could do about it.

First - she had to get through this... next bit.

"Monica - I can give you some advice..." Dean finished drying her and helped her back on her feet. "Scream a lot. Does as he says... but scream a lot. He likes that."

He drew her from the room and with mounting trepidation she faced the door again. It was going to be ugly and it would hurt - probably more than anything so far. It's for the baby...for the baby...for the baby.... That sentiment was what echoed in her mind as Dean turned the knob and ushered her inside.

Jarred heard the door open and close and smiled. "In here, little mouse," he called from the adjoining bedroom. "You know how to come to me." She stepped forward and Dean pulled her back. "No," he hissed, "on your hands and knees.".

So, really... this was the moment of real entrapment. The moment when real treachery begins. When the captive capitulates and becomes a part of her own torment. By choice? Certainly not. As in all he did, Jarred took the advantage, no matter if it was his own circumstance and actions that caused it or not.

He watched as Monica crawled into his bedroom. "I've told Ethan, he can watch... even hold your hand, if he wants." He smiled wickedly at his play on words as if anyone would imagine that Ethan could offer comfort. "Dean - leave us," he called into his sitting room and gestured to Monica to come closer as they heard the door close.

"Now, show me your cunt."

Monica started to stand up and Mr. Parks shook his head.

"Turn around until you face the wall and then down on your elbows, spread your legs and I want that ass in the air.

"You're a bitch, a breeding bitch that belongs to me now, and when you come to me, I'll inspect you and deem whether or not you have taken care of my property properly."

Riotous red flames appeared on Monica's cheeks as she presented herself to him. just do it...do it... just do as he says... don't think about it...do it... She stifled a piteous groan and opened her legs as far as she could while on her knees.

She closed her mind to 'him' and listened as did as he said. He fondled her as impersonally as a doctor, fingering her vagina and pubis in general before probing and penetrating. He pulled out his finger and sniffed her scent before biding her to open her mouth and taste her own sex.

His laugh rang in the room as her face contorted with the demand. "Suck it." She sucked his finger as he went from her slit to her mouth again and again, eventually making it damp with her own saliva. He added a finger and started to ruthlessly ram both into her. Her vagina started giving out it's own liquid in defense and she sucked more of her taste from his fingers, disgust shown clearly on her face.

He pushed his fingers deep once more and then abruptly pushed one into her anus. Monica wasn't expecting that and cried out sharply, scurrying forward until a hand wound in her hair and jerked her back on his finger, cruelly digging in. "Stupid mouse. Don't. you. know. it's. worse. if. you. fight. me?" He yanked her hair with every word, causing her to yelp with each mad tug.

"Get up." He aimed a foot at her buttock and released her hair just as he footed her in the ass.

Monica got up, her chest heaving wearily and her eyes watering profusely from the hair pulling and the new rug burn across her cheek.

"Bend over the bed and hold your asscheeks and cunt wide open."

She'd hardly noticed Ethan until she saw him standing at the head of the bed. "Normally, I'd cuff you to the bed and assfuck you bloody like any other whore. BUT YOU! You are the mother of my child. You get treated special. I'll show restraint and even give you a chance to make this easier.

"All you have to do.. is make yourself orgasm."

Monica put her head in the coverlet to hide her face.

"Come, come. I know you were masturbating and cumming like a whore while you thought of my son. By yourself. So, now, think of me. I'm not a drooling idiot. You'll be my ...blushing bride and so you'll love making love to me." He smiled at her knowledge that she'd never enjoy it while he had anything to say about it. His words were as false as the marriage would be.

Could she cum? With him watching?

She reached between her legs and fingered her clit with hesitation, keeping her eyes buried in the coverlet.

"That's it, mousy whore, finger that cunt and cum... maybe I'll used your juice to make your ass good and slick before I fuck it."

[InnocentVirgin]

Torn between wanting to stay for the sake of Monica and wanting to leave because it would be so ugly, Dean left Jarred's chambers and leaned back on the door, his handsome, worn face in his hands. With a shudder, he pushed off the door and headed down the hall. No way could he stay around and listen to the happenings through the door.

He went down the hall, shoulders slumped until he came to Malcolm's room and slipped quietly inside.

He sat looking at and listening to the breathing of his nephew, and allowed himself a brief fantasy that it all was as innocent as the room seemed.

-----

Monica fingered herself rapidly, wanting to cum and finish this portion of humiliation as quickly as possible.

And of course, Mr. Parks knew what she was about and wouldn't allow her that paltry satisfaction. When her pulse quickened toward orgasm, he'd slap her buttock until she lost her edge. Her frustrated fingers flew and the next time she grew near he reached under her and pinched her nipple, digging in cruelly on the already bruised skin of her areola.

He pushed her over on her side, "What's wrong mouse? Having trouble getting off? ...Continue! Continue!" his high good humour was ugly. "Come Ethan, give Monica Mouse a show... maybe she needs some visual stimulation..."

Eyes wide with a trapped doe expression, Monica shuddered with the fear that both of them would be at her. She saw Mr. Parks look at her belly - the burgeoning of life he'd created, and he smiled/leered. She read his expression clearly, he was repulsed by the sight of the pregnancy and thrilled he could claim it as his. All she could do was reach around the swelling and continue to play with herself as she watched Ethan drop his trousers and pull at his already hard cock. His face chilled her as much as Mr. Parks did. Avid, greedy lust painted his features and he looked so much like his brother in that expression she held back a gag.

Again, every time she quickened - he was there to pain her into losing the battle. Her bald sex was slick with her juice and she could smell her arousal. Her face colored in shame and she tried her best to take herself out of the room mentally, concentrating only on trying to orgasm.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Jarred had opened his robe and had his stiff prick at the ready. She faltered, her hand slipping off her pussy and he brought her back with a slap. Ethan pulled at his cock furiously, fueled by the slaps and pinches and the thought of seeing the tiny mouse impaled anally. Monica squeezed her eyes shut tight, refusing to watch as he came in a handkerchief. Apparently Jarred didn't allow a mess in his chambers - not of another - that is.

She neared climax again and this time he allowed her due. She came hard, with dread shame and no joy, and as she rode the bitter orgasm she ended screaming.

Parks grabbed her by the hips and pulled her up and in one swift movement shoved his huge erection to the hilt into her spasming cunt. She was small to begin with but the baby had crowded things considerably and the pain tore through her like a knife. What little bodily satisfaction and release in orgasm she achieved was ripped from her quickly. She tried to backpedal away from him only to find no purchase on the silk of the coverlet, merely succeeding in driving him a little deeper. The pain unbearable, she howled in agony as he butted and bruised her cervix.

Jarred flexed his muscles and pistoned his hips to ride his mouse deeper as he reveled in her screams, her crowded cunt incredibly tight, massaging every millimeter of his cock as he forced himself deeper, no thought of safety or protecting the still tenuous life in her belly, just driving deep with insane lust - even her ass forgotten in the wonderful sensation on his cock. Over and over he speared her, listening to the screams echoing in his large chamber. Yes... this is exactly what he needed. The head of his cock slid deep, pushing and bludgeoning and he held her hips in a vise grip pulling her up as he pushed in.

Monica was in agony.

She screamed until her voice broke and her vision splintered and refracted in a nauseating kaleidoscope of color. Fire burned in her womb and each stoke was a new assault. She ceased to see Ethan. And ceased to care whether it killed her or not.

She took his pounding, now silent as she wavered between a nightmare and oblivious dark.

Until a gut wrenching pain convulsed and consumed her. She shrieked.

Jarred felt the contraction as an impossible tightening of her already tight hole and he himself howled as he began spewing viscous globs of semen into her. He knew the relevance of the contraction but as perhaps typical - he used it anyway - and counted it among the best orgasm's of his life. He continued to push and empty his balls feeling the exact moment when her painful cramping contraction eased.

Monica didn't notice when he pulled out, nor see the gush of cum run from her swelling vagina. Instinctively she curled into a fetal position on the bed, wrapping her arms around her belly and keening.

Jarred staggered back, unsteady from the intensity of his orgasm. He raked his hands through his hair and really thought about what just happened and the possible consequence. How she could lose the kid, his SON.

Eying Ethan, he barked, "Get Bert up here. Tell him to fix this." He retied his robe and left the room.

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica stayed in a twilight state until the IV needle punched through the upper layers of skin to her vein, carrying fluid to help stop contractions. She turned her head and looked at Bert with dull eyes.

He probed her gently, his face concerned and sad ...and sober, but his hands didn't falter or shake. He listened intently to her belly, for a long time. When he was finished he lay her on her left side and sat, contemplating her intensely, silently, and with grief. "The contractions stopped. But you ... it seems... Ah, Christ - you have twins. Two heartbeats."

For an endless moment his words hung in the air. He peeled off his gloves with a snap, snap and Monica lurched up with a cry and begged him not to tell Mr. Parks, holding her hands on her belly protectively. "No, child... I have to tell him. It may be the only thing that keeps him off you.

"These contractions stopped easy. The next may not." he paused and his face seemed years older in a matter of a moment. "Aye, telling him is your only chance... he ruins what he touches... My sister..." Bert scrubbed his eyes with his hands and his voice broke at the mention of his sister.

A knock at the door and Dean entered. Monica noticed for the first time that she was no longer in Mr. Parks' chamber, but a smaller one. A combination sitting/bedroom affair that was luxurious and finely appointed.

"How is she?" Dean asked quietly.

"She's fine." Bruised, brutalized and terrified, he wanted to add, but he read the expression on Dean's face well. "Contractions stopped with an IV and rest."

Bert pulled Dean away to talk out of earshot of Monica.

She heard their voices murmuring but didn't try to listen. Her body throbbed, her breasts ached horribly and she felt every beat of her heart in her swollen vagina. What was she going to do? She asked herself that question over and over. He would keep at her.. she knew... until she miscarried or died... or he killed her. Her mind wanted to shut down and not think of her situation.

She didn't have much time to think anyway when the door opened with a crash and Jarred strode in. "She going to be able to stand for the ceremony? I've arranged it for tomorrow afternoon."

Dean and Bert broke apart and Bert answered, "The contractions have stopped..." he took a deep breath and continued, "but, you are going to kill her if you keep at her..." in a split second, Parks had him against the wall by the throat, "It's none of your affair, is it you quack bastard?"

Unafraid for the first time in many years, Bert answered him quietly and simply, "It is. She is having twins and if you persist in this treatment, she'll miscarry." Jarred flung him away suddenly and then a grin appeared, his expression changing like quicksilver. "Twins!"

He strode to Monica and looked down at her... "You'll have a couple of boys - or we'll just have to keep you pregnant if you don't...

"And if you have girls..." he leered down at her, "I'll use them as breeders until one of you produces what I require."

He left whistling and calling for Ethan to get the car ready and Monica decided she would kill him. Somehow.

[jwham]

The story is going nicely, always captivating.

[InnocentVirgin]

More to come.

[prisonerslave]

such a tease...saw you posted and I got so excited. I forgive you though ;)

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica stood woodenly between Parks and a whey-faced woman that stood silently and merely nodded when she was introduced as the housekeeper. Evidently the passing of Mrs. Parks necessitated the additional help.

It had been educational - being moved from the cellar to her own room. A maid with thin pursed lips in a dowdy skirt and shirt had silently tidied her room after she rose. The silence of these servants was deafening and none would meet the eyes of Monica.

In early afternoon, the maid, Carla, returned with an armful of packages and told Monica to pick a dress for the ceremony. She went through them with desolate resolve and dull eyes, fingering the expensive silks in varying shades of ivory. Mr. Parks had thought of everything it seemed. No one had spoken to her since the examination by Bert. When she learned she was carrying twins. No word from Dean. Just terse instructions from the maid. Carla made her bathe and she went through the ordeal of an enema and another body shave. She did her hair and makeup. Monica moved with deliberate slowness, unwilling to exert herself for fear of bringing on new contractions. Her vagina ached and she felt bruised and her breasts were livid testimony to her maltreatment. She wouldn’t look in the mirror.

At seven pm precisely, Monica was escorted by Bert, following the housekeeper, Rose, down the carpeted hall in her off-white finery.

She could smell the priest. Her belly heaved with the stench of spent whiskey. She stared at the priest in his ceremonial finery.

Why the Church? What a sick mind Parks had. No civil ceremony for him. And it seemed he had this priest in his pocket as well as the Church. Otherwise, there was no way for this marriage to be sanctioned. She felt another betrayal.

Her head started to feel light and she swayed. Just as the words of the wedding mass began, in tromped Malcolm and Dean.

“Dis.....” he corrected himself quickly, “This my new Mommy?” he questioned his father as he was pulled into the position of best man.

Dean stared at the floor.

“Yes, Malcolm, this is your new Mother.” Jarred smiled benignly, a potentate on his throne couldn’t look more snide and content at the same time.

“Hi! Mom!”

It was evident that Malcolm didn’t recognize her as the bride he’d ‘taken’ a few months back. The whole situation was bizarre on so many levels, Monica couldn’t begin to count them, but the ceremony began anew and Monica’s stomach kept clenching and roiling while the priest slurred through the mass. Surreal images of the faces around her whorled in her head and she nearly gagged on the Host when offered.

------------------

Mr. Parks paid Monica a visit late, just as she was getting into bed.

He strode in, leaving the door open and sat on a Victorian lounger by the heavily draped windows, opening his robe and legs.

“Get your nightgown off and suck me... since you can’t be a proper wife. You can at least not be entirely useless.”

She swallow against rising bile and did as he ordered, drawing her nightie up and laying it primly on her bed. “No - get up.. No crawling for now. That useless quack said it’s a no-no.” His voice took on an ugly southern drawl, mimicking Bert. She went on her knees before him and made him hard. “Use your hands, too, BRIDE.” He knew that would disgust her and it did. She had to swallow repeatedly to keep from regurgitating from disgust alone. God damn you, she railed silently and frustrated tears leaked down her freshly washed cheeks.

Monica thought him pure evil. She wanted to scratch his face until bloody then strike him down and kick him until she couldn’t any longer. He’d told her after the ceremony he’d wired her parents, telling them of their ‘elopement’, elaborating that he’d been in contract with them for a while... spinning a tale of sordid adultery now made clean and pure by the Church.

Her throat closed on his cock and she gagged hard, nearly vomiting.

He loved it! and gave her a brief moment to recover before pushing his hips up from the lounge and pulling her head down at the same time, forcing her to take all his cock in her mouth. He humped a few times, letting his balls tighten before releasing his grip and settling back down. It wouldn’t do to cum so quickly.

After all, it was his wedding night.

[InnocentVirgin]

Monica gagged and gagged while her air supply was cut off and started flailing her arms and hands against him. It took forever it seemed, but he finally pulled back enough for her to breathe.

"Don't ever hit out at me little mouse... You know what I will do to you."

The low menace in his voice made Monica's blood run cold. She could no longer hold back from fighting for air than any drowning man could. It was instinct. Her eyes teared profusely. Her lips felt obscenely stretched around his cock and he kept pushing himself down her throat every so often. It was agony and she cried continuously. Please...please...please.. her silent plea went unheeded as she served as the vessel for his lust. It went on forever.

"Goddammit use your HANDS!" he roared and drove her head down full force, scraping her throat raw while holding her there until she massaged his nutsack. All she could do was comply.

And cry.

When he came he nearly choked her, holding his huge cock in his throat until his balls were empty and it softened. She drew furrows down his legs with her nails and beat against him furiously to no avail, finally succumbing to unconsciousness with a belly full of his semen. He pulled out of her mouth and put her full on the floor on her side and stood. Only in the shower did he realize she'd clawed him pretty good.

"Bitch."

-----

Ethan had watched Monica blow him from the door for quite a while before Jarred noticed him and sent him on his way. As a result he had a raging hardon that need resolution.

And he knew exactly what he wanted.

In no time he was sitting in the parking lot of an obscure little bar called the Riot Owl. A seedy and backroad kind of place that somehow was hip and drew people he'd never expect to frequent such a dive. In the shadows, he watched people coming and going until a lone woman came out and fumbled toward her car in the thawing slush. It was nothing to grab her and squeeze her unconscious for the half hour ride back.

He looked at her by the light of the dash. She'd do. Maybe mid 20's. Petite and blond but good solid looking tits - not fake... he thought. He taped her mouth and hands and blindfolded her, with a hard bone still throbbing in his jeans. He'd promised Malcolm a bride - this one would do - for a night.

When he drove in he hauled her inside, she was still not quite conscious, down to the basement. He'd take his time prepping her. It wasn't often he could indulge himself, but he figured Jarred had been in such good spirits - he'd not grudge him some tail, particularly if he got Malcolm off. Malcolm had come back nicely after realizing Monica would replace his mother. Ethan couldn't wait until he decided to crawl into Monica's bed for a titty suck after a bad dream.

He lathered up the woman... Jessica Walters, he learned from her driver's license, and shaved her mons and pussy lips after strapping her to the table in the exam room. He had to strap her legs open in the stirrups to do it, until he brought the razor up for her to feel against her throat and telling her to lie still. Adjusting the table at incline, he performed an enema, filling her until she was in agony, bloated and writhing. A good cleaning douche and she'd be almost ready. He cut the rest of her clothes off her and hosed her down, using a brush to clean her. He inspected her cunt, with a finger, then two, then three. Pretty tight. Not all sloppy. No stretch marks lined her belly or tits so probably no kids.

He unstrapped her and let her void her bowels in the floor drain and cleaned her again before taking off the blindfold. It certainly wouldn't matter if she could recognize him, after tonight she'd never tell.

[ElliAus]

Just found your story
Ill read it more thoroughly later but its great.
just the right balance of fear, brutality and foreboding

don't worry about the end
just give it an unexpected twist then bring all the strands together quickly at that point

dramatic finishes are better than just trailing away.

It takes a lot of time and effort to write stories of substance. W all love you for that.

you are a great mentor and writer

Elly

[InnocentVirgin]

Just found your story
Ill read it more thoroughly later but its great.
just the right balance of fear, brutality and foreboding

don't worry about the end
just give it an unexpected twist then bring all the strands together quickly at that point

dramatic finishes are better than just trailing away.

It takes a lot of time and effort to write stories of substance. W all love you for that.

you are a great mentor and writer

EllyI'm flattered. Very flattered you think so.

Thank you.:o

[InnocentVirgin]

sorry for delay.. little bit of a scare here..

I'll be back to write when things quiet ^^.

[prisonerslave]

i'll wait for as long as it takes IV! :D

[rosielawson]

Same here. We Miss YOU!

:skull-con:skull-smi:skull-big:skull-win:skull-thu:skull-coo