Message-ID: <13604eli$9808050127@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: nestique Subject: Story: Sera Rapes Daddy (F/m, castration) Newsgroups: alt.sex.femdom,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980803213633.3668.qmail@nym.alias.net> The following story is fictional. It depicts violent castration, rape, and battery. If you're under-age, DO NOT READ IT. If you might be offended, upset, or disgusted by reading about violent sexuality, please do not read it. Sera Rapes Daddy Mom looked at my Dad sorrowfully for a second -- for the first time in, oh, ten weeks, she wasn't beaming with excitement about leaving for Palermo -- then she patted his shiny bald head. Some sweat came off on her hand, and she wiped it on his shoulder, saying, "Try to take care of yourself, honey." Her voice was soft, pleading, as if she was already a little wounded by some bad news she anticipated. "Sera," she turned to me, "Make sure nothing goes wrong. I'm a little nervous about leaving these two..." By which she meant my Dad and my older brother, whose name is Todd, but whom I'll call Stupid. "But I'm sure with you here," she continued, "Things'll stay pretty much in order." And with that pledge of confidence, she stepped into the Taxi, closed the door, and sped off to the airport. Then on to Europe, for twenty carefree days of compulsive, selfish spending, drunken indulgence, sensitive men with lean, muscle- bound bodies, with tireless cocks, and maybe with adventurous girlfriends, who knows? After the taxi turned onto Rossmore and vanished, my father and Stupid stood there on the lawn, staring blankly. With Mom gone, they seemed sort of at a loss as to what to do. I observed their stupor with mild amusement for about three minutes. "Uh, Dad? How about cooking up some dinner?" He looked toward the garage, as if not quite sure where my voice was coming from, then briefly made eye contact with me. "Sure, hon." "Sera." "What?" "I don't like to be called hon. I've told you that before." "I'm sorry." "You'll be really sorry if you call me `hon' again." "I apologize." "I won't give you a chance to apologize next time, Dad. Now shut up and cook my dinner." Daddy walked purposefully toward the kitchen door. I felt a little proud as I watched him walk. He seemed to concentrate, and never stumbled on anything. I turned and saw Stupid looking after him, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his Dockers. "Hey, Stupid, why don't you go break something? Like maybe your arm?" Stupid got this tremulous glare, if it's possible for a glare to be tremulous. If it's not, I'm sure you know what I mean: his face paled with anger, but he found it hard to meet my look. He tried to conceal his fear of me, but courage is a highly transcendent trait for a guy like him, and his face kind of shivered. I could feel him melting inside, hating every second of it. "Oh, yeah?" He asked, which was a totally inappropriate response. "You know, you don't get to be all ruly 'cause Mom's not around. You're not her lieutenant." I took a step closer to my older brother -- three years older, to be precise -- and reached up to his face. I put my palm over his cheek. Stupid was really lean, and I could feel his cheekbone under my skin. I enjoyed staring at him because he was trying to appear strong, but his tension was totally delicious: I felt like I was drinking his heart through his eyes. I scratched affectionately at his cheekbone with my long fingernails. "Stupid, you're wrong. Again. And I'm not shocked. To tell you the truth, now that Mom's gone, I do make the rules around here." Stupid looked down, almost like he was going to cry. "Why don't you go in back and play with the dog?" He didn't say anything, just kept staring at the ground. "I'll give you three seconds." He turned and almost ran to the backyard. This saved me the trouble of having to humiliate him, and I was pretty disappointed, because I liked humilating him. I walked into the living room to watch TV until Dad served me dinner. After a few minutes I smelled cream simmering on the stove, and I recognized it as the first phase of alfredo sauce. It was one of my favorites. "Make just one serving, Daddy," I called out. "You and Stupid will sit at the table and watch me eat." There was nothing decent on TV, so I told my Dad to order everything on Pay-Per-View, then walked into the backyard to see if Stupid was amusing Martha, our dog. Now, I loved Martha. She was a three-year-old mutt with lots of Irish Setter, and a year ago I wished my hair was the same exact color as hers. She ran incredibly fast, leapt unbelievably high into the air to get frisbees, and hardly ever ate anything. I admired a lot of things about her, actually, so I was incredibly pissed off when people mistreated her. And that's exactly what Stupid was doing. See, Stupid had these silly fits of anger. All he was doing was venting his rage at me and Mom for being such ruly women, for making his life one hellish submission after another, but for us males are males. Anyway, Stupid was standing there swatting Martha's rump, and I wasn't going to have any of it. "What the fuck are you doing?" He froze, and was afraid to turn around. "I asked you a question." He was just standing there like a statue, his face turned down toward Martha, who looked up at me and started wagging her tail like mad, making her whole body sway. When I got close to Stupid I saw that his eyes were closed. "Open your eyes, Stupid." When he did, it only took about a second for his eyes to brim with tears, because I reached around him and sank my fingers into his groin. He whined, "Ooooh, oooh," which I pretty much expected since I had him by the balls and gripped them like a vice. "You know I don't like people messing with Martha." He nodded quickly, still whining. I felt the shape of his big, round testicles and really dug into them. I kind of felt like ripping them off and feeding them to our dog. "You shouldn't hurt animals 'cause they don't understand it, Stupid." He whined louder, trying to articulate some kind of apologetic agreement. "But people, even men, can understand things, so it's okay to hurt them. Right?" Still locking them in my grip, I tugged his balls up and outward. He nodded again, his face now drenched with tears. "Okay. I guess you understand." I let go of him, because to forgive is divine, or whatever. "Now drop your pants." He shot a glance in my direction: a sort of oh-god-what? look. I interpreted this as confusion, so I slapped him across the face. I liked feeling those cheekbones in a variety of ways. "Drop your pants, as in...these!" I grabbed his crotch again and jerked his package around a little. His arms flailed: he wanted to obey me and strip, but he was afraid that if he put his hands too close to mine I'd think he was trying to repell me, and he didn't want me to think he was fighting, so he was sort of in a predicament. I thought this was pretty advanced logic on his part, so I released his manly treasures. Dutifully, he unbuttoned his pants. I liked seeing my older brother strip. Stupid was really pretty attractive to me. At eighteen, he was fully grown; his penis was thick and pretty long, even flaccid, and his balls were large and pretty. Nice, smooth orbs held comfy and tight in the white briefs me and Mom made him wear. But not Dad, incidentally; Dad wasn't as well-hung as Stupid, so we made him do without underwear; we wanted him to see his puny genitalia as often and as nakedly as possible to remind him of his limited physical dimensions. "Now the briefs." He was quivering again. His back was stooped a little, so I could tell his balls were still aching, and I knew he wouldn't resist. He pulled down his briefs, then stood more or less upright. "Martha! C'mere, pup!" Martha was already really close to me, but I wanted her muzzle to be right in front of Stupid's cock. When she was close enough, I grabbed her by the collar and guided her within inches of Stupid's body. Then I took Stupid's long, limp cock in my hand and swatted her muzzle with it. She snapped her head back, surprised, then I did it again. And again. I poked at her eye with my brother's cock -- he was sort of silently freaking out about all this, because I had never done it before -- then I tried to spear her ear with his meat-stick. Finally she'd had enough, and she snapped at his dick. Stupid cried out. His dick was bleeding a little, and I think Martha liked the taste of it, because when I swung his dick at her again and missed, she bit him harder and held on. Finally all hell broke loose, and I had to pull her off him. "Stupid, I think she forgives you now." His underwear stained red instantly when I told him he could get dressed for my dinner. It was a pretty good dinner. Dad made me fettucine alfredo, baby lettuce salad, and bread pudding. I didn't let the boys eat anything 'cause they'd been such dicks lately, but I enjoyed sharing my pleasure with them, meaning I let them watch me enjoy myself. "So, Dad," I said after I finished dessert, "I thought you should know, Stupid is a real dick." Dad nodded thoughtfully, as if he could possibly come up with a solution to this problem. "He was beating Martha, and Martha's my favorite dog in the whole world." Dad looked scornfully at Stupid, who sat with his hands clasped between his legs, his face turned down with shame. "You know, it's really time for Stupid to grow up. Start being a man." "Well," Dad started to say. "Shut up, Dad, I didn't approve of you talking. Anyway, I've been giving it some thought, and I think I know how we can make a man out of your son." I looked over at Stupid to see what sort of reaction he had. He was looking embarrassed and, as usual, a little rude. "Hint: it has something to do with sex." Dad turned away and wiped his forehead. I could tell Stupid wanted to shake his head and sigh, or something like that, but he was afraid to piss me off. "Boys," I said, standing up with a flourish, kicking the chair onto the floor behind me, "Go into my bedroom and strip." Obediently, both of them walked into my bedroom. Now, I would've followed them right away, but to tell you the truth I was a little afraid of them. I realized that if I pissed them off enough without properly debilitating them, they could turn on me and do some kind of treachery. So I waited for them to walk into my bedroom, then I went into the kitchen and took a small iron frying pan from the drawer under the stove. "Is everyone naked?" I called out from the hall, staying away from the doorway so that they couldn't see me. "Yes, Sera." Dad said, obediently. "Stupid?" "Yeah..." "Okay, turn facing my North window, and close your eyes." Now, I suppose they could've just stood on either side of the doorway and jumped me, but they didn't have the balls. They obeyed my instructions perfectly. Seeing them standing in formation, their asses bare and waiting, I walked up behind them, and smashed Dad on the head with the frying pan. A loud, musical note rang out and Dad fell to his knees, dazed. Without missing a beat, I turned the frying pan sideways and slammed it up between my brother's legs. I felt it slam hard against his pelvis, and he screamed, collapsing, clutching at himself and blabbering insanely. "Stupid, if you don't shut your mouth, I'm going to get pissed off and do something extreme." It wasn't any good trying to appeal to reason in situations like that; Stupid was unteachable. I banged Dad's head again to make sure he was dizzy and defenseless, then I walked to my dresser. I stripped off my skirt really quickly, then I opened the top drawer, put the pan down, and took out a ten-inch strap-on dildo. It was a good one: very firm, very thick, and covered with high ridges and bumps. The first time I saw it I thought the ridges were letters, some sort of phallic cursive, forming words along the side of the artificial cock. But the ridges didn't mean anything, they were just supposed to make it look life-like, even though it was completely black, unlike any cocks I've ever seen (even the cocks of black men aren't this black). Anyway, I strapped on the dildo nice and snug, picked up the frying pan, then proceeded to kneel behind my older brother. "Get into position, Stupid." Stupid knew the position, and he knew the feeling of his little sister fucking him up the ass. Believe me, given the choice between going dickless by a hairy dog and having a woman take him from behind, he'd go with the chick-rape. It was the kinder, gentler punishment, you could say. But you wouldn't know it if you could hear his braying and weeping that night: I drove into him as hard as I could, laying the pan on his back (when I wasn't swatting at our Dad's limp body with it) so that I could reach around and clutch his sweating balls, dig into his scrotum with my nails, jerk them around until he must've felt like the little cords would snap, et cetera. I was just letting him know that having balls was a terrible weakness. A sort of an Achilles heel. A permanent, but not necessarily so permanent, tear in his self-sufficiency and strength. I mean, wasn't God thinking about Darwin and evolution back when he designed men? Men are daft, dullardly and hyper- aggressive, really in offensive ways. It's only a matter of time before women freeze all the semen they could possibly need from decent men, then just raise their own kids minus the ball-bearing freak-out gorillas. Men could all be exterminated at birth, except for a few breeders who could be raised in special prisons somewhere until they pumped out enough semen to keep the race going. But of course, then we ladies wouldn't get the fun of dominating men. Sex relations are amusing, at least for a while, and I guess all women deserve a man to knock around for personal pleasure. Anyway, back to earth: I was impaling my brother with a dildo that made his nature-cock, and probably almost any real cock, worthy of scornful rejection. Worthy of spitting on. "Deeper, deeper," I urged myself on like a cheerleader, "Oh, harder, Sera, harder." I challenged myself to let him know who wore the pants when Mom wasn't around. I made a full-blown pussy out of my brother. At one point I let go of his balls and lifted up my hand, and I could see blood from his rectum dripping down my fingers. "Okay, Stupid, your turn's over." I pulled out of him, and he crumpled up into a tender, weeping mass on the floor of my bedroom. "Dad?" I called out, poking his face with the strap-on. "You awake?" Dad sort of groaned and wriggled. "Stupid, turn your father flat on his stomach." Stupid obeyed, his face all puffy with tears, all red and blurry-looking. "Now hold his hands down." Stupid pressed Dad's hands down on my hardwood floor. I lay on top of Dad, and drove the bloody dildo into his ass. It was a nice feeling; I dunno, there was something primal and natural about pelvically thrusting into him even without me being a guy. I liked slamming against his tight ass, it felt really good; it felt like total power, having him, owning him where he hurt, embracing his weakness, mushing up his natural design, entering him with trumpets and red carpets where no one was supposed to enter. All this sensual attention made Dad pretty alert all of a sudden, and he started crying and pleading. I had to smack the back of his head with my fists, but even that didn't quite stifle his moronic outbursts. I thought about crushing his head with the frying pan again, but I was a little worried about how much he could take before he sustained serious injuries. Men don't know when to stop, you know? And I wanted him to remain conscious while I tore down his ego and mauled his body. "Stupid, stuff your balls into his mouth." Stupid gave me a look of what was probably homoerotic bliss, just disguised really well as horror, so I gave him a quick jab in the throat, a smack across the nose, and caught his balls in my hand. Squeezed them. Hard. I don't like faggots. "No, no, ooooooh..." Stupid had a way with words. I pulled Dad's face up a little by the ears, because he had no hair, and Stupid sort of gingerly set his balls in Dad's mouth. They were interacting with each other sort of apologetically, like they were saying to each other, I really don't want to be doing this, but since we have no choice since the girl rules, we'll go along with it and hope she lets up soon. Well, we'll just have to see about that, I thought to myself. Anyway, I kept rocking away at my Dad's tight ass, drilling his fuck-hole hard, and Stupid's nuts occupied his mouth, muting him pretty well. It was a good arrangement, me fucking the boys like that, and I told them they should print a little image of that love-scene in their minds forever, so that they'd always remember how I could have my way with them anytime I wanted. "Get a nice, clear photo of this in your stupid heads," I think I said. Anyway, I didn't think anything unexpected would happen, but I got a little bored after a while and I thought I might like to make sure Dad didn't have any more kids since Stupid hadn't turned out very well, and I didn't want to risk another colossal human failure contaminating our race. So I lifted my weight off Dad's ass a little, not removing the dildo entirely, but just rising up a bit, and then I reached underneath, found my Dad's balls, and put all my earthly strength into trying to tear them off. I tugged at his nuts really abruptly, see, and it totally took him off guard or something, because, well, he suddenly bit down on Stupid's testicles. Which promptly came off in his mouth. So Stupid lost his head (after losing his manhood), went berserk, and I had to whack him with the pan until he was unconscious. It was a bloody mess, and the whole scene was just so crazy that by the time Stupid simmered down and lay there unconscious, I was really fucking pissed off at Dad for rudely interfering with my plan, so then I got a knife from the kitchen and finished the job I had attempted with my bare hands. I just didn't want to exert myself at that point with a lot of wild tugging; I just wanted to punish him and make him calm down, so I neutered him with a serrated bread knife. Now I make him use that knife just about whenever he cooks for me, just to remind him. I made them both collaborate on dinner, the main course being their nuts, chopped up into little pieces and served to me with curry sauce. Anyway, Dad and Stupid are pretty well-behaved now. They like being eunuchs, to tell you the truth, and they love serving me and Mom. Mom wasn't very upset when she came home to find the house devoid of men, because she had met a few guys she liked in Italy, and she had been completely bored with Dad. What's a married woman to do? My point in telling you all this is simple: You're a woman, right? Then teach the men in your life to respect you! Don't take their crap, 'cause you know, they are fucking weak, and what makes them weakest is that they do not know how weak they really are. If a guy mouths off to you, knee him in the balls. If your boyfriend or husband starts to get on your nerves and regular ball-crushing isn't getting the results you want, consider castrating him. Remember: men are better when you cut their balls off. Seriously. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----