Page 69 of Keeping Her Under
They weren’t the worst ones though.
The worst were when they didn’t bother to take me to my room at all. They raped me out in the open, right in front of my mother.
And she just sat there, too high to protect her own child.
My breaths come quickly as I smack myself in the head. Harder and harder, trying to get those memories to stop.
I’m not a child anymore.
I’m not weak.
I can show this woman how strong I am. I can make her the weak one.
My cock grows harder.
My soul screams.
I hate myself.
I hate the muck they left on me.
Hate how it’s become me, so thick on my skin that I can’t differentiate between me and them.
She cries like I used to cry.
She begs like I used to beg.
I can get her to shut up like they used to make me.
She’ll scream more at the start, but eventually, she’ll quiet, her brain shutting down in an attempt to survive.
Do it.
Show the world how strong you are.
Show them that you’re not a victim.
That you were strong enough to save yourself.
But I wasn’t.
All those times I convinced myself that I still had a bit of power, that they couldn’t strip me bare even if they took my clothes, that I still had some fight in me even after I stopped resisting… It was nothing but lies.
I was a weak, pathetic victim!
So be strong now!
Show her NOW!
PUT YOUR COCK IN HER AND FORCE HER TO TAKE IT LIKE THE PUSSY SHE IS!
“Shut up!” I scream.
She clamps up tight, though a few soft whimpers still escape her.
I breathe heavily.
My cock pulses hard.
