Jennie turned her attention to Sergeant. Or, Sergeant Rynn, she supposed. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a tanktop and fatigues, toweling off her medium length auburn hair. Even from this distance, Jennie could smell that same musk that was all over Eileen. Relief washed over her. It hadn’t been Cole that violated her sister. Thank God.

Except it also meant that—

“She broke day one,” Sergeant Rynn confirmed, sauntering closer. She grabbed at the prominent bulge in her pants. “Saw this and gave in without so much as putting up a fight.” The bed sank as Rynn slid onto it. “Isn’t that right, you greedy bitch.”

“I…” Eileen’s mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to form what seemed like a rebuttal. Then she relented. “Yeah… I took one look and knew I was doomed.”

The confirmation of it made Jennie want to punish Eileen even more. First, for not being there to stop Jennie’s fall to Jane. Second, for being selfish enough to fall herself. And third, for being a useless cunthole like herself. She pinched one of Eileen’s nipples, squeezing until Eileen began to squirm from the pain. To Jennie’s suprise, Eileen shivered with need from her malice.

“Ss-stop! It hurts!” Eileen moaned.

Jennie had never been one for sadism, but Eileen just looked so pathetic that she couldn’t help it. She twisted. “I know you, Elle. You’re a liar.” Eileen let out a whimper, and something dark stirred within Jennie at it.

“You can do better than that.” This time, Sergeant’s words weren’t a challenge. She wasn’t goading Jennie. Instead, they were encouraging. Jennie registered a glimmer of respect in the way Sergeant examined her, as if only now she understood. And maybe it was true. Jennie hadn’t reckoned with the sheer depravity she could inflict upon the world until this moment. If every cuntgirl she encountered was as easy to corrupt as her and Eileen, then there really was no stopping these ‘hounds’. What a disgraceful name for them, given what they actually were: hunters. No, predators. Superior in every way to a cissie like herself.

Sergeant treating someone as lowly as Jennie with respect made a giddy, tingling rush course through her. After so long being prey, to prey upon someone else seemed… exhilarating. Freeing. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Goddess Rynn had decided to get with the program. It’d make all of this easier on Jennie.

“How?”

“Open that,” Sergeant gestured to a tan colored protective case that Jennie had never seen before. “Once you have the contents, we’ll continue breaking this bitch together,” Sergeant said, delivering a flick to Eileen’s clit. Another shiver, capped with another of those pathetic moans. Goddess, what a sound. Thya was right, Jennie realized. God had no place in this.

“Continue? I thought—”

“That she was done? No.” Sergeant clapped a hand on Eileen’s thigh. “No, that’s the amazing thing about you cissies: there’s always so much more to take.”

Maybe it was the contented mewling that dribbled from the woman’s lips, but seeing Eileen — a woman she thought she’d known well enough to consider her family — reduced like this made Jennie’s heartrate kick into overdrive. She’d already fallen so far from the pure woman she’d been, and then even farther as she’d recalled the past that Jane had hidden from her. Even then, though, she’d felt like herself still. There was still some core piece of her that hadn’t been touched by all those years of manipulation and and deception.

Eileen had been that part of her. She’d been a throughline that kept Jennie from falling further. The knowledge drove her from the bed, and before she knew it her hands were pulling open the latches to the protective case. Inside, perfectly nestled within a hollow of pluck-and-pull foam, was what at first looked like a tuning rod with a thick, black handle. She picked it up and noticed that the ends of tines had small nodes that jutted outward and in towards the center. Confused she turned it over in her hand and felt her thumb slid against a small depression in the handle.

A small arc jumped across the nodes, and Jennie’s breath left her at the realization of what sat in her hands: a way out. She could be free of all of this. There had to be places she could go. People she could go to for help to get her out. Someone besides her had to be fighting back. Jennie considered all these very compelling points as she climbed back onto the bed, straddled Eileen’s face, and delivered a jolt to her sister’s ribs.

She’d never had someone moan in a mix of pleasure and pain right into her cunt. With it, she felt her mind become sharp; there was a keen, razor-like awareness that dwarfed anything she’d experienced… and yet it was like she was attuned to everything that Eileen was doing. She looked to Rynn, the woman she’d only known as Sergeant up until now, and Rynn nodded. Just a slight tilt of her head said everything that needed to be said: Yes, that feeling was what it felt like to have prey at your disposal. And yes, she had Rynn’s permission to ravage what was Rynn’s.

Temptation was something weaker people succumbed to. That’s what Jennie had been taught her whole life. And while, admittedly, her restraint had slipped these past few weeks, those were petty trespasses in comparison to what now faced her. It still wasn’t too late. Turning back was an option. Jennie considered this very compelling point.

Another jolt, this time to Eileen’s thigh. Her sister writhed at it.

“You did this to me!” Jennie yelled. “Now, lick.”

More current, and a zap that left the skin on Eileen’s stomach pink. Eileen complied, darting her head forward a few scant inches to bury her tongue deep in Jennie’s snatch. Foreign, welcome warmth and slickness flitting against Jennie’s fold made her gasp, thighs tensing, and oh, wwwoooowww; sparks of lust and need and yesrightthere raced from her cunt, up along her spine, and struck like lightning at the pleasure centers of her brain. She’d expected Eileen to be hesitant or timid, but no: her sister was such a cissie dyke slut for Jennie.

Then again, the way Jennie’s body vibrated with the prelude of what she could already tell would be an orgasm unlike one she’d ever experienced didn’t mean that Jennie could claim much to the contrary. Maybe she was a little into women. Maybe. She noticed movement in her periphery, and when she looked she saw that Rynn had shed her clothes. An involuntary, desperate moan left Jennie’s mouth at the sight of Rynn’s dick. It was shorter than Cole’s, but thicker and drooling with delicious precum. Maybe ‘little’ was the wrong way to describe how into women she was… or to describe the extent to which she wanted women to be into her. Jennie let out a laugh at her own musing, prompting a confused “Mmmmf?” from beneath her.

“Heh. Don’t worry about it, Elle. Just keep— ah! Going!” Jennie replied, tightening her grip against Eileen’s head as she delivered a jolt to her sister’s inner thigh. It’s a shame Thya, the sister in her head that had made her such a brazen and licentious whore, had gone quiet. She had been so nice to Jennie, when Jennie really thought about it. Oh well, she’d have to do with the girl she’d grown up with and known all her life worshipping her pussy like it was the greatest fucking thing on Earth.

It felt transcendent to indelibly alter the last relationship that could redeem her from this. And she was certain now that she was doing just that. All that certainty did, though, is amplify how sublime it felt to renounce what little hope she had of things ever ‘getting better.’ What hope did she need, when this was already the best her life had ever been?

And when Rynn decided to pound back into her sister, Jennie almost came right on the spot from the shocked, pained, and utterly hedonistic cry of debasing lust that issued from the girl. But she held back, allowing herself the indulgence of her own fall.

“You were—Goddess!—r-right, Rynn! I have so much more to f—fuck!” She hadn’t meant to say it, but it was just as true. A hand clamped down on her arm, and Jennie recalled that touch as clear as that day in Jane’s study. Something she said had sparked Rynn’s ire.

“It’s. Sergeant.” Rynn twisted Jennie’s arm to face the prod towards Jennie, and thrust it forwards until the nodes pressed against the flesh mere inches above Jennie’s clit. “A cuntgirl like you has no place to address me so familiarly. Disrespect me again, and I’ll—”

Jennie depressed the button before Sergeant Rynn finished the threat. The pulse of electricity hurt in a way that was sinful, and wicked, and it made her scream and moan and shudder and stop existing except for the purest high she’d ever felt. Everything whited out, and then a crashing flood of pleasure brought her back into the moment. She was cumming from being hurt. She had chosen being hurt, and she wanted more of it. Goddess, what was happening to her?

A miracle. It was a miracle made of the brutal, mortifying waves of the best fucking pleasure that she’d ever felt. Whatever last bits of resistance and rationalization Jennie clung to — “just real women”, “not like them”, “I don’t like the pain” — leaked its way onto her sister’s face. As Eileen lapped up her juices, Jennie accepted the completeness of her damnation. She was fucking gay. They’d made her gay, the same way they’d made her crave hurting and being hurt! But if saying she all that made her feel this good, even for a cuntgirl like Eileen? Well, she was gonna be gay and kinky. Gayer and kinkier than the kinkiest, dykiest dyke she’d ever seen before her imprisonment in the suburbs of Indiana.

• • •

As her second orgasm riding Eileen tapered down into the low thrum of heat that always blessed her these days, Jennie felt exhaustion swamp the excitement that’d taken her over. She rolled off Eileen and collapsed next to her, panting. Her eyelids drooped. Jennie was aware that the two of them should run. Sergeant, for all her stamina, seemed on the verge of passing out after she’d cum one more time inside of Eileen. They could slip out unnoticed. It was, after all, a very compelling point to consider. All she did was taste herself off Eileen’s lips. Maybe they would chase the two of them down and take them hard for trying to escape. Jennie and Eileen could hold hands as they were beaten and prodded and pounded.

But they had all the time in the world, and Jennie was exhausted. So was Eileen, who’d succumbed to sleep herself between telling her sister how much she loved her. Sated and heretical, Jennie lapsed into slumber.

Then — sometime later — she felt a prick of something in her neck, and she fell even deeper.