Tuning Chloe

Part 14

by All These Roadworks

Tags: #cw:incest #cw:noncon #D/s #ddlg #dom:male #f/m #humiliation #hypnosis #sub:female #spanking

Tuning Chloe, Part 14
Story by All These Roadworks (2023).
Author's Note: I'm financially supported by my writing, so if you enjoy this story, please support my ability to write more by purchasing an e-book or membership from AllTheseRoadworks.com(Click here to view the store.)
Chloe’s life was a mess.
Her mother Sarah was now a confused, slutty, submissive, guilt-ridden bimbo who masturbated to thoughts of raping her daughter, and with Sarah reduced to such a state there was no remaining need to hide Chloe’s own descent towards becoming her stepfather’s fucktoy.  And, compelled by the Daughter Tuning app to see her mother as a role model, each new degradation for Sarah became something that Chloe developed a humiliating subconscious urge to replicate.
The app also compelled Chloe’s “sexual honesty”.  No longer content with posing Chloe specific questions in the evenings, Michael had now given his bratty stepdaughter a more specific directive.
“I want you to tell me whenever your pussy’s wet, Chloe,” he told her.  “And what you thought of to make you wet.  I want you to tell me every time you masturbate, and tell me what made you cum.  If I’m not physically present, you can send me a text.”
Chloe had wailed and protested at that instruction - immediately seeing exactly what it would force her to say - and Michael had eventually made her confess that she deserved a pussy spanking from her mother for her resistance.
After that, there was no longer any pretense that Chloe hadn’t been thoroughly corrupted by her experiences over the last few months.  Her least humiliating confessions were fairly vanilla - a text from school that she had gotten wet because a boy was staring at her tits, or an evening confession that she had masturbated in the shower while thinking about sex with a handsome man.
But more often they were specific, degrading, and undermined her frequent objections to the process by which Michael was turning her into a sex doll.
On one occasion she stormed into the kitchen, her face bright red with humiliation, and spat, “My pussy is wet because I thought about sucking your cock.”  On another, she texted him, “I’m soaking wet at school because I thought about mom kissing me with a mouthful of your sperm.  I hate you so much.”  And in her embarrassingly pink princess-themed bedroom, in tears of humiliation, her teen body practically naked in front of him, she said, “I played with my pussy this morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about when you raped me at the park, and it made me cum.”
But she had another confession for him as well, delivered in tears one night as he came to “put her to bed” in their regular degrading style.
“How are things going with Ewan?” he asked her - and she immediately started crying.
“I’m such a slut!” she wailed.  “I’m such a slut!”
As was normal in these bedtime sessions, she was lying in bed clad in nothing but her slutty see-through nightwear, and her face was resting on his thigh, near his exposed, erect cock.  Normally he would soon pop his cock into her mouth, so she could suck on it while he read her a piece of incestuous rape erotica that helped normalise her new life.  But now he paused, and stroked her hair.
“Calm down, kitten,” he said.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She sniffled, and managed to regain her composure.  “I couldn’t stop cockteasing Ewan,” she said, “because your stupid app makes me.  I kept hugging him and pressing my tits against him and almost kissing him at school - and eventually he pushed me up against a wall behind one of the classrooms, and that’s when he discovered the chastity belt.”
“What happened then?” asked Michael.
“He told *everyone*,” sobbed Chloe.  “Everyone at school knows I wear this metal belt over my cunt to stop me fucking people.  They keep flipping up my skirt when they’re near so they can see.  And I *still* couldn’t stop cockteasing Ewan, so he said if he couldn’t get to my cunt he’d use my face instead, and he *raped* me, out behind the library.  He used my pigtails to control my head…”
(Michael remembered how Chloe had disgustedly described them as “blowjob handlebars” when he first made her change her hairstyle.)
“... and he stuck his cock in my mouth and made me suck,” Chloe continued.  “And then he told all his friends, and now *they* fuck my mouth at lunchtimes too.  That’s all I do when I’m not in class - I let boys rape my mouth…”  She broke down into sobs again.
Michael continued to stroke her hair.  “It’s okay, Chloe,” he said.  “This was always going to happen to you, because you’re such a slut.  That’s why I made you wear the belt.  Otherwise they all would have raped your cunt, and you’d be pregnant to one of them now.  Aren’t you grateful I made you wear the belt?”
She looked up at him, confused and humiliated and guilty, but she knew what he wanted her to say.  “Yes, daddy,” she whispered.  “Thank you for making me wear the belt.”  And saying it made her believe it a little more.
“This is just part of growing up,” Michael told her.  “There comes a point where a bratty little slut like you discovers that she only exists so that men can cum inside her.”
“No…” protested Chloe, weakly.
“Yes, honey,” said Michael, still stroking her hair.  “Do you think a nice girl would let this happen to her?  Even with the Daughter Tuning app and everything?  Do you think she’d get wet thinking about her stepfather raping her?  Do you think she’d let her own mother make her cum?  This is who you are, honey - a cocksucking slut.  It’s who  you always were.”
He could feel her warm tears on his thigh.
“But you should think of this as an opportunity, honey,” he told her.  “All these boys want to fuck your mouth.  But you don’t love any of them like you love your daddy, so why should they get to do it for free?  I want you to tell these boys that from now on they need to pay ten dollars a blowjob, otherwise you’ll go to the police.  Do you understand?  And I’ll back you up on that.”
“But then I’ll be… I’ll be a whore…” Chloe sobbed.
“You’re already a whore, honey,” said Michael.  “But this way you’ll be bringing some money into the house.”
But she kept sobbing, and protesting, and Michael eventually had to leave the topic of prostitution for the time being.  He settled for pushing his cock into her mouth, and reading her the story of a disgusting teen cocktease called Chloe who seduced her pure, upstanding father into impregnating her.
But the very next day, the Daughter Tuning app offered Michael a new choice for Chloe.
“Look, Sarah,” he said, showing the phone to Chloe’s mother.  “It wants to know how Chloe should spend her free time outside of school.  The choices are ‘studying’ or ‘making money’.”
“Oh, making money,” said Sarah at once.  “It’s so expensive to look after that little brat.”
Smiling, Michael made the choice.  
And for Chloe, forced by her secret instructions to sexualise every such choice, that could only mean one thing.
She began to bring home $40 a day from swallowing cum at lunch and recess - and she even showed the initiative of starting to stay back after school to earn a further $30.
All the money ended up in Michael’s hands, of course, and he made sure Chloe knew it would be spent on further degrading and sexualising her.
The mornings were the worst for Chloe.  Michael had established a routine now, where Chloe would come into the master bedroom as the sun was rising, and stand there in her slutty sleeping garb.  Michael would fuck her mother right there in front of her, and make Sarah recite graphic fantasies of raping her daughter while staring at her daughter’s tits and cunt, and Chloe would be forced to listen, and play with her pussy.  When Michael finally ejaculated into Sarah, Sarah would get up off the bed and transfer his cum into her daughter’s mouth, and kiss Chloe and rub Chloe’s pussy until Chloe orgasmed.
This behaviour would leave both women paralysed with guilt and shame, and they would seem honestly grateful when Michael would subsequently spank their cunts on the kitchen table as punishment for their wanton display, as if the pain and discipline helped them compartmentalise their embarrassment.
Because Sarah was Chloe’s hypnotic role model, the more she watched her mother being raped by Michael, the more she longed to be raped that way herself.  Michael could see in her eyes that she wanted him to repeat the violent rape he had perpetrated on her at the park - but he wasn’t yet ready to give her that satisfaction.
Her mother’s slutty behaviour also rubbed off on Chloe in other ways.  Sometimes Chloe forgot to wear items of clothing around the house, and he would catch her with her tits or cunt deliciously bare.  Her expression at these times was always beautiful, because she didn’t *want* to be nude - and yet her whole being said that because her mother was flashing her tits around the house, Chloe should be doing that too.
Chloe was clearly struggling to process everything that was happening in her life.  Sometimes Michael would catch the confused teen girl frantically masturbating while crying, in the shower or on the toilet, or in bed.  On one of these occasions in her bedroom he sat down next to her on the edge of her bed.
“Keep going, honey,” he told her.  “Everyone in the house knows what a slut you are already.”
She screwed her eyes shut - but did as she was told, rubbing her cunt beneath the blankets.  “I hate you,” she whispered.  “I hate you so much.  I hate what you’re doing to me.”
“Do you really?” asked Michael.  “Is that why you’re masturbating?  Tell me what you hate most.  What are the three worst things?”
Under other circumstances she might have refused to play along with this conversation, but her conditioning compelled sexual honesty, so she spoke, spitting out the words with venom. “I hate that you’ve made me a prostitute,” she said.  “No one at school respects me.  The girls all hate me and call me a slut.  The boys just see me as a mouth to cum into.  And I can’t tell them that it’s not me, that you make me do this.  I hate it.”
“They see you as a mouth to cum into because that’s what you *are*, sweetie,” said Michael.  “It’s not fair to blame me for your basic nature.”
“And I hate that you’ve turned mom into a bimbo, and that you make her kiss me and… finger me,” said Chloe.  “It’s gross, and wrong.”
“Chloe, when your mother and I got together, she *hated* you,” said Michael.  “She thought you were a spoiled brat who was good for nothing.  And now she literally wants to be your girlfriend.  She wants to kiss and cuddle you all day.  I think you should thank me, if anything.  And I have to ask, if you hate it so much, why do you keep cumming from your mother’s fingers?”
She looked away from him.  “And I hate… this thing you keep talking about,” she said.  “You trick me into acting like I want it, but I don’t.  It will ruin my life.”
“What thing?” asked Michael.  He genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to.
“You know,” she said, blushing.  “That you want to do to me.”
“I don’t know,” he protested.  Enslaving her?  Fucking her?
But it was neither of those.  She blushed deeper.
“Getting me pregnant,” she whispered.  “I don’t want it.  You get me all confused when I’m wet and crying and you make me say things like I want it, but I don’t.”
This was too precious.  He had gone back and forth on impregnating Chloe.  Sometimes the idea was hot, other times he’d thought about the reality of caring for a pregnant teen and decided it was too much trouble.
But her little sexy, broken whisper, telling him how much she didn’t want it, was too much.
Now it had to happen.
“Oh, Chloe, Chloe,” he said, stroking her hair with one hand.  “You’re such a silly little slut.  What did you think that wet cunt of yours was for, other than breeding?”
She whimpered.  “No, please,” she said.  “Just give me that.  I don’t want a baby.”
He had asked her before if she had wanted to get pregnant, and even with her app compelling her honesty, she had told him that she didn’t.
But her head wasn’t the only part of her that had opinions.
“I’ll consider it, Chloe,” he said.  “If you just tell me one thing.”
“What?” she asked.
“Tell me that you’ve never gotten wet at the thought of my impregnating you,” he told her.  “Just tell me you’ve never masturbated to it.”
She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes…
… and said nothing.
“I thought so,” he told her.  “Well then.  It’s time to get serious about this.  Tomorrow I’m taking away your birth control pills, and starting you on fertility drugs.”
And she looked so terrified and distraught and humiliated at that thought that he couldn’t control himself any longer.  He unbuttoned his pants, took out his cock, and stuffed it into her unprotesting mouth
And, to her credit, she sucked as though she were grateful that this load of cum, at least, was going in her mouth, and not in her womb.

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