Secret Message, Part 7
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Sitting at her father’s dinner table, naked from the waist down, as she ate dinner with her father and uncle was the most surreal experience of Kathy’s life. On the surface, everyone was pretending that there was nothing unusual happening, and that Kathy was not flashing her cunt and ass to the two older men.
But they knew. The truth was lying behind every line of idle chatter, every innocent question as to how Kathy’s life was going, every piece of formal dinner etiquette. Kathy was bare-cunted, like a slut, and everyone knew it.
But what was worse was Kathy’s behaviour. Over and over, the secret messages were looping through her mind.
“Men know best. I want to obey. I am an empty head and a wet cunt.” And so she listened, wide-eyed, to every word her father and her uncle said, and nodded, accepting it immediately as truth, and when she was called on to contribute to the conversation herself, she found herself giggling nervously, and desperately thinking of things that men had told her that she could parrot back - except that the only thing men had told her recently was that she was a slut, and that she was fun to rape, so instead she just responded with awkward silence for a few moments, before asking her father or uncle in a small voice what *they* thought the answer was.
“If men don’t want to fuck me, I’m worthless. I need men to cum in me.” Her eyes were fixed on her father’s face, and her uncle’s face, searching for signs that they wanted to rape her. The results gave her mixed feelings. For her father’s part, she saw only disgust and worry in his eyes. He thought she was a slut, yes - but he gave no sign of wanting to fuck his own daughter. That filled part of her heart with relief and love - and at the same time, it made her feel awful, like she was unfuckable and worthless.
Whereas “Uncle” Trevor definitely wanted to rape her. He was having trouble concealing his lust. And the knowledge that Kathy would likely be fucked that night by a man she had known since she was a child filled her with fear and shame - but also with satisfaction and pride, at successfully attracting the attention of his cock.
“Be vulnerable.” Despite the intense shame she felt, Kathy made no attempt to conceal her cunt. In fact, she sat with her legs spread wide, despite the fact that her cunt was still hidden by the dinner table. On one occasion during dinner, she found herself spilling a little of her drink on her top - unable to stop herself - with part of her mind hoping that someone would tell her to remove the wet top and expose her tits as well. But no one did. They just blushed, and looked away, and didn’t comment on how she was deliberately soaking her top like a whore.
“I am a slut. Be wet, always.” And this was the final shame for Kathy, because she couldn’t help herself. She needed to be wet. She was a slut. So she ate her dinner with one hand, alternately operating the knife and fork to bring food to her mouth - and the other hand was beneath the table, between her legs, surreptitiously fingering her nude, wet, pussy as she looked into the eyes of her father and uncle and tried to pretend that everything was normal.
When dinner was over, Uncle Trevor stood abruptly, and said, “I’ll drive Kathy home.”
Kathy was confused. “I drove myself here,” she protested. “My car’s outside.”
Her father’s face was stern. “I think you’ve had a little too much alcohol to drive, Kathy,” he said.
Kathy was even more confused. There hadn’t been any alcohol with dinner. What did her father mean?
And then she realised. He thought she’d *arrived* drunk. It was the only explanation for her behaviour, after all. She blushed bright red. Did her father think she had a drinking problem? And was that better, or worse, than thinking she was just a disgusting slut?
“Come on, Kathy,” Trevor said. “I’ll get you home.”
As Kathy said goodnight to her father, and allowed herself to be led from the house, she was aware of where this was heading. She was going to fuck her “uncle”. It was going to happen.
“Can I just get my phone from my car?” she asked as they crossed the driveway to Trevor’s four-wheel-drive. Trevor nodded, and Kathy ran to collect her phone from the passenger’s seat. She put the earbuds into her ears, and started the spiral sounds. Maybe she could slip into a trance before she was raped. Maybe it would happen while she was unconscious. The cool hiss of the spiral in her ears felt relaxing, reassuring.
She got into the passenger seat of Trevor’s car, and Uncle Trevor took the driver’s seat.
“You can take off that wet top now,” he said, without looking at her.
Kathy shivered, and pulled the blouse up and over her heard. Her tits were exposed to the darkness of the night now - visible to her uncle’s gaze. She made no effort to cover them. “Be vulnerable,” whispered her mind.
Trevor started the car, and they began to drive.
Then she heard Trevor’s voice. “Tell me that you’ve always fantasised about being raped by me.”
It wasn’t Trevor in the driver’s seat who was speaking. It was the earphones, in Trevor’s voice.
She felt her heart quicken.
Men knew best. She needed to obey.
“You know,” she whispered, “I’ve always fantasised about you raping me.”
Trevor didn’t look at her - but his breathing became faster, more shallow.
The earbuds spoke to Kathy again, telling her more things to say - and she obediently repeated them to her real uncle, sitting beside her.
“In my fantasies, you slap my face, and hold me down, and force me,” she whispered, in a small, breathy voice. “It makes me so wet, I can’t stand it.”
Trevor turned to look at her - staring at her face and tits so intently that it made her anxious that he wasn’t watching the road.
But the earphones had more for her to say.
“I just want you to not give me any choices,” she told him. “Pull my hair. Choke me. Make me your bitch….”
It was finally too much for her uncle. They were driving on a dark, isolated stretch of highway, and he abruptly pulled over and stopped the car. Beside the highway, the ground fell away in a slope, down towards an area of undeveloped semi-forested land. Trevor got out of the car, walked around to Kathy’s side, and opened the door.
Kathy wanted to pull back, to protect herself, but she didn’t. “Be vulnerable.” Instead she looked up at her uncle with big, wide eyes - and her hands, of their own volition, unbuckled her seatbelt.
Her uncle said nothing. He just reached in and grabbed a thick handful of Kathy’s hair - and then used it to pull her from the car.
Kathy fell heavily onto the gravel of the slope, landing on all fours. The night air chilled her naked flesh, raising goosebumps - but she didn’t have time to gather her composure, because Trevor was still pulling on her hair, forcing her to rise into a half-crouch and do her best to follow him down the slope.
Soon they were at the base of the slope, out of sight of the highway, alone together in the darkness of the evening.
In desperation, Kathy tried her best to forestall the coming events - by telling the truth.
“I didn’t mean those things,” she protested. “There’s a website - a hypnotic spiral - and it’s making me do things and say things. It tells me things over these earbuds…”
Trevor looked at her nude body.
“You mean you don’t want to be raped?” he asked.
Kathy said nothing - and then blushed. She wanted to say no, that she didn’t want to be raped - except it just wasn’t true. She wanted Uncle Trevor to cum inside her, and make her pretty with his sperm. She wanted him to want to fuck her, because that was the only way she had any worth.
Her uncle took her silence as an answer. “And if I rape you, are you going to tell anyone?”
This one was easier. The answer was the simple truth - the truth of being vulnerable. “No,” she whispered.
That was all her uncle needed to hear. He unzipped his pants and extracted his hard, throbbing cock. He advanced on Kathy and picked her up bodily, his hands cupping her ass and lifting her up to align her naked cunt with his phallus. Then he lunged forward - and Kathy gasped as she felt her back thud into the rough bark of a tree trunk.
There, with Kathy pinned between his body and the tree, her uncle sunk his cock into her wet, vulnerable cunt.
Kathy moaned. It felt so good, even as it felt so wrong. She felt her body melting with lust, her warm tits pressing hard against her uncle’s chest, her buttocks flexing spasmodically against his hands. Trevor leaned in to kiss her, and, unable to help herself, Kathy kissed him back passionately.
This man wasn’t really her uncle - merely a family friend that she had known since childhood - but as she felt him thrust his cock hard into her pussy, she felt as if her entire life had been leading to this - that she had been raised to adulthood for no reason except to provide a wet sheath for his dick.
Trevor broke off the kiss, and looked at her for a moment as he continued to rape her. Then he pinned her more firmly against the tree, removed one hand from her ass, and used it to deliberately slap her, hard, across the face.
It made Kathy gasp, and feel like crying - but it also made her wetter. Her pussy squeezed her uncle’s cock eagerly, and her breath came in shallow gasps.
Encouraged by her response, Trevor slapped her again.
The spiral hissed in Kathy’s ears, and she tried to focus on it. If she went into trance, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be experiencing this. She wouldn’t be aware that she was moaning like a whore for her uncle to rape her; wouldn’t be aware that one of her oldest family relationships was transforming into the relationship between a rapist and his sex-doll.
She listened, and listened, and listened.
And the answer came to her, shortly before her uncle finally ejaculated inside her. The ninth secret message.
She said it aloud, her eyes locked on her uncle’s.
“I like being a sex object,” she gasped.
But like so many of the messages, it was more than that. It was that she wanted to *act* like a sex object. She wanted men to *treat* her like a sex object. And she wanted to encourage that behaviour from men.
And so when her uncle finally orgasmed, and filled her womb with his hot, sticky cum, she kissed him passionately, and whispered, “Thank you,” again and again between kisses.
And when he released her, she fell to her knees in front of him, and wiped his cock back and forth across her face, smearing his cum over her skin, before taking it into her mouth and sucking it clean.
And she crawled on all fours back to the car, and climbed back into the passenger seat as though she were a naked, slutty pet.
As her uncle re-started the car, she took up her phone, and entered the new secret message into the website.
“Congratulations!” it said. “You have found the ninth secret message! You’ve won the right to increase your vulnerability! Please enter your bank account details and financial passwords into the form below, and follow your breast augmentation, all control of your property and finances will be transferred to Secret Message Inc to manage on your behalf. You won’t own anything, and will have to ask a man you’ve never met for permission to buy food or clothes!”
Kathy’s eyes bulged with fear as she saw the message - but the words “be vulnerable” began looping in her brain, again and again.
And so with one hand, she reached down, between her legs, and began masturbating, pushing her uncle’s cum deeper into her vagina.
And with the other, she began filling out the form.
(TO BE CONTINUED)