Tuning Chloe, Part 17
Story by All These Roadworks (2023).
Author's Note: Every chapter of Tuning Chloe is coming to Read Only Mind in time...
... but you can now buy the complete e-book of Tuning Chloe in the All These Roadworks store for only $7.99 USD! Your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of new, free content. (Click here to view in store.)
Chloe was uncharacteristically silent as Michael stopped the car alongside the suburban park and got out. She didn’t leave the car until he walked around to her side and opened her door, but once the door was open, she emerged, and followed him submissively across the lush grass of the public space.
It was almost pitch black. The park was supposed to be lit by three separate streetlights, but two were out, and the remaining one cast long, stygian shadows. There was no one to be seen - they were completely and utterly alone here.
Not so alone that nobody would hear if Chloe screamed - but Michael and Chloe both knew that she wasn’t going to scream.
They were here because she had asked for it. Because when Michael had put a direct question to her - did she want him to rape her - her hypnotic conditioning had forced her to answer honestly, and she had said “yes”.
“Do you remember what we did here last time, Chloe?” he asked her quietly as they walked towards the playground in the centre of the park.
She nodded - and then, realising he couldn’t see her in the dark, she said, “Yes.”
“Yes, daddy.” He couldn’t see her blush - but he knew it was there.
“Do you remember all the things you said to me here last time?” he asked.
She was uncertain. “I think so,” she said.
“The last time we came here you were on birth control, Chloe,” he told her. “But now you’re on fertility drugs, aren’t you?”
She said nothing, but he could picture the misery and mortification on her face.
“I’ll tell you what, Chloe,” he said. “If you can remember all the things you needed to say last time, and say them to me without prompting, I won’t cum in your pussy. Does that sound fair?”
“No,” she said immediately, with a sudden spark of fire, and Michael was delighted to hear the sulking, pouty brat in her voice again. He liked that brat. She was fun to break.
“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he said. “Do you want me to rape you, or not?”
She made a choked, humiliated noise. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, I want you to rape me, daddy,” she whimpered. She couldn’t lie about her sexuality. She had no choice but to admit it.
“How do you want me to rape you?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Like last time.”
“Be specific,” he told her.
She squirmed uncomfortably. “Force me and… slap me. Pull my clothes off. Make it so that I have no choice.”
He laughed. It felt lovely to have Chloe asking for such specific abuse. “Good girl,” he told her.
They had reached the playground, and Michael gestured up into the kiddy fort that formed the bulk of the play equipment. It had a bridge, and climbing equipment, and a slide, but their destination was the cubby at the top - the small enclosed wooden space where he had first raped his soon-to-be stepdaughter.
Chloe climbed obediently. The combination of her red sheath dress and her crotchless panties meant Michael had a clear view of her pussy as she clambered into the fort. Even in the dim light, he could tell it was visibly wet.
Michael followed, and they were soon squeezed into the close confines of the cubbyhouse, away from prying eyes.
“Well?” asked Michael.
Chloe frowned, as she tried to concentrate, and remember what she had told him that first time. Michael suspected she had a pretty good memory of everything that happened that night - after all, she had confessed to masturbating while remembering it.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry for cockteasing you into raping me. I’m sorry I’m such a slut. I deserve to be raped.” That last was a breathy exhalation - the desperate sigh of a girl who hated what she was saying, but knew with every fibre of her being that it was true.
He undressed as she spoke, taking off his shoes, his shirt, and unbuckling his belt and pants. When his cock popped into view, Chloe’s eyes locked onto it like lasers, even though she could see little more than its shadow in the darkness of the cubby.
“Go on,” he said.
“I don’t want to get pregnant,” she whispered. “But… I deserve to be raped by you, daddy. Please… please rape me.”
He smiled. “Good girl,” he said. And then he reached out for her.
Chloe did struggle, then. Either she couldn’t help herself, or she genuinely did want to be *raped*, not just fucked. Her legs kicked at him, and her arms wrestled with him. She tried to scratch him, and bite him - but she didn’t yell, or scream, or call attention to them. He could see her eyes gleaming in the scraps of light, full of fear and self-hatred… and lust.
He ripped her clothes off her, not caring that he was tearing them. The little bitch could walk back to the car naked when he was done - no one was likely to see. He had to slap her across the face, twice, and still she didn’t scream. He ripped off her red lace sheath dress, and her tits popped into view. Her panties were crotchless, and did nothing to hide her cute little cunt, but he ripped them off anyway. Soon he had her pinned against the ground, his hands on her wrists, his legs between her thighs, spreading her open.
And then he slid his cock into her cunt - and it was so, *so* wet, wetter than he’d ever found it before. Chloe made a small, choked wail of pure pleasure as he plunged into her. And then he was fucking her, thrusting hard into young, wet, fuckhole.
Her struggles had stopped now, and she was bucking back against him. He leaned down to kiss her, and she kissed him back, with deep, furious passion.
“Tell me you want to be my daughter,” he told her.
“I want to be your daughter, daddy,” she gasped, and her felt her cunt squeeze around his cock as she spoke the words.
“Tell me you want to be my little slut,” he told her.
“I want to be your little slut, daddy,” she moaned.
He smiled. “Tell me you want to fuck your mother,” he told her.
She made a choked noise - but obeyed. “I want to fuck my mother,” she breathed.
“Are you picturing that, sweetie?” he asked her. “Fucking your mother, while I watch, just to make my cock hard so I’ll rape you?”
She made a low, pathetic whine - but her cunt was spasming wildly around his cock, and her bucking was so hard she must have been bruising her buttocks against the wood of the cubbyhouse.
He slapped her across the face again, just for fun - and to his delight, she orgasmed in response, her whole body twitching, a low guttural noise coming from her mouth. And she was still fucking him as hard as her young muscles would allow.
He kissed her, and kissed her again, his tongue forcing into her eager mouth. He squeezed her beautiful young breasts with his hand, hard enough to hurt her, and it only made her wetter.
Finally, he felt his own orgasm coming.
“And tell me, Chloe,” he asked her. “Do you want me to impregnate you?”
Her eyes widened. “No,” she said. “I don’t! You said you wouldn’t!”
He smiled. “I said I wouldn’t if you said everything you said last time,” he told her. “And you forgot to thank me for raping you.”
She began to struggle again, then - with every ounce of strength in her body. But he was stronger than her, and he had leverage, and he pinned her arms back to the ground.
“You’re going to look pretty with a baby in you, Chloe,” he told her.
And then he orgasmed - ejaculating deep into her fertile unwilling teenage womb.
He made her thank him for raping her after all. She thanked him for trying to impregnate her, too. He lay on top of her, his cock still inside her, not allowing her to escape, and she had no option but to do as she was told. After all, he could slap her face all night, if that was what it took.
“Thank you for raping me, daddy,” she said, in a broken voice. “Thank you for… putting a baby inside me…”
And then she started to cry, and the sight and sound of her tears were so beautiful that he felt himself hardening again inside her, and soon he was raping her for a second time. Despite everything, she responded, humping against him, pressing her tits against his chest, kissing him, and her tears had almost dried by the time he reached his orgasm and deposited a second load of sperm into her babymaker, which started her weeping again.
He rolled off her afterwards and lay next to her, watching her cry.
“You know this is all your fault, Chloe,” he said as she sobbed. “If you hadn’t been such a bitch all your life, your mother never would have agreed to Daughter Tuning. And if you hadn’t fought me like such a brat, I wouldn’t have had to discipline your slutty little cunt all those times. And it was you who asked me to rape you. It was you who begged for it. What kind of whore wants their stepfather to rape them?”
“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m sorry, daddy.”
“You’re going to have my baby, Chloe,” he told her. “And then you’re never going to be able to have a real boyfriend or a husband again. Because they’ll ask who the father of your child is, and you’re going to have to tell them how you cockteased your stepfather into impregnating you. And then they’ll never love you. They’ll think you’re a disgusting whore. Because you are.”
Her whole body was shaking with misery now. He reached between her legs, and rubbed at her pussy idly as she cried. It was good for her to associate sadness with arousal - or even just to be more confused generally. Her snatch was sticky with his sperm, and he took the opportunity to push the semen that was leaking out of her back up inside her fucktunnel.
“But it’s going to be okay, baby girl,” he told her. “Because I love you. I understand what a confused messed-up little slut you are. I’m going to take care of you, and your baby, and you’re going to be my stupid little pregnant teen sex pet who I love. Doesn’t that sound good?”
She was making a high-pitched keening sound now. She was crying so hard it was no longer completely attractive. Michael wished he’d brought some tissues. He gave her a scrap of her ruined dress to wipe her eyes and nose on.
“I can do all that for you, sweetie,” he told her. “But only if you love me. Do you love me?”
She tried to speak, and started coughing instead. He waited - still fingering her pussy - and when she was done, he stroked her hair.
“Do you love me?” he asked again.
She was so scared and broken and desperate for anything to cling on to that it no longer mattered that she hated him, that she objectively knew that he was to blame for ruining her life, that he had just raped her and probably impregnated her.
“Yes, daddy,” she whimpered. “I love you, daddy.”
“Good girl,” he said. “I love you too, Chloe. Now beg me to put a baby in you.”
She looked at him, confused.
“You may as well, sweetie,” he told her. “You’re probably already pregnant. Just say the words.”
“Daddy…” she whispered, “can you put a baby in me?”
“Of course I can,” he said. “Anything for my little girl. Why don’t you help daddy get hard again?”
He guided her head down to his groin, and she obediently opened her mouth and took his cock into it. He held her there, trapping her, so she couldn’t get away, enjoying the warmth of her tongue, fucking her face at a slow and leisurely pace, until he felt his cock becoming rock hard again.
Then he pushed her off him roughly, and moved to straddle her, pinning her back to the floor. “You deserve this, sweetie,” he told her. “You deserve all of this.”
And then he slid his cock back into her pussy - her wet, messy teenaged cunt - and he raped her for the third time that night.
And he would never really be certain - there was no way to know - but he liked to think it was that third time - the one she had asked for - that was the rape that impregnated her.
(TO BE CONTINUED)