Whipped raped daughter

CHAPTER TEN

Francine lay in the dark, having been cleaned before the men threw her into the small, low ceilinged room. It must have been a fruit cellar at one time before they had converted it to their hideous purpose.

After being tossed in, Francine had thought she could hear more cries, the sounds of someone being beaten severely. She cried out, hammering her fists against the wooden door. But no one listened. No one seemed to care. She had been shut out, refused entry.

Despairing and sobbing out curses and pleas, Francine had sunk to the floor in honor, wondering how on earth she and the others would be able to escape.

She sat there in the darkness, thinking of happier days. Tears rolled down Francine's cheeks as a wave of bitterness soured her memory. She had stood there, watching her daughter writhing in agony. And then the girl had welcomed the men, had actually spread her legs for Bart, begging him for more fucking action while she laughed and groaned with insane delight. The innocent little girl she had raised had been turned into a rutting whore, a woman who lived only for fucking.

Francine doubled over, hiding her face in her hands while crying softly in he darkness. Her family was shattered forever, the men had shit on her and the stain would last no matter how things ended.

Footsteps! Francine caught her breath, drawing her hands inward, feeling her body shiver as the door slowly creaked open. A wedge of yellow light flashed into the narrow room. The woman shielded her eyes, squinting, trying to see if she could catch sight of her daughter.

Bart seemed a little drunk, swaying from left to right. He was holding a can of beer in his right hand, his fingers having crushed the sides slightly. Taking another swig of the beer, he stepped forward, shaking his finger at Francine.

"You weren't nice, sending all that electricity into your daughter. She was pissed."

"You you animal! You made me do it!" Francine hissed, curling her fingers into claws.

Bart threw back his head and laughed, finishing the beer, then throwing the can at Francine. Ducking, the woman scooted forward a little, searching the room for Tina.

"She sure was hot, though. You done me a favor. And now I'm gonna do one for you," Bart said.

Francine could smell his stale breath as he bent down, hooking his fingers under her arms and dragging the woman out of the small room. Francine struggled, swearing at him, beating back at him with both arms. But he was too drunk and worked up to care.

Once in the larger room again, she noticed Kathy on the floor, one arm stretched over her face, obviously unconscious. There were belt or whip marks on her thighs, ass, and belly, indications that the beating sounds Francine had heard earlier were real. The girl moaned, rolled onto her belly, then curled into a fetal position, keeping her back to the woman.

"Let's take her over to the bench. She'll be comfortable there, and we can hold her down," Bart said.

Francine looked around wildly for Tina. There was no sign of her daughter. In a moment, she felt her head bang against the side of the table, and she realized they were getting her ready for yet another torment. She was hoisted up and rolled onto a rough, splintery surface. Starting to get up, Francine felt a hand come down roughly against her chin, knocking her head against the table.

"You'll be still and like it," Bart said, keeping her down while other hands strapped the woman to the table.

Francine realized that more than just Bart and Max were there. The room was crowded with drunk maniacs, all murmuring softly, all watching as the men bound Francine to the table. She grew quiet. Something was up, something more serious than the torment she and her daughter had already endured.

"This'll be the last thing you remember as your lover, baby."

Bart approached from the left, unwrapping a tapered iron three feet long. The handle was hard and ribbed to fit a man's hand, while the tip was grooved. He was going to drive the thing into her. He was going to fuck her with it. Francine could see it in his eyes, in the way he was holding it.

"Seen enough?"

"No, no, no!" Francine rolled her head from side to side, arching her spine, digging her shoulder blades against the table behind her. It had to be a bad dream, a terrible nightmare. But the touch of the branding iron against her tit was enough to tell her it was all too real.

Then Bart brought the iron down to her cunt. The end was cold against her hot flesh. Francine shuddered and moaned, turning her head away.

"You know, since you saw your daughter in action, it's only fair that she see you! Tit for tat, right?"

There was a general murmur of approval. Francine protested, but her pleas were shouted down. Max walked to another part of the room and opened a small door, reaching in and dragging Tina out, dropping the girl like a dead weight on the ground.

Francine shrieked, seeing the same marks on her daughter she'd spotted on the groaning Kathy. The noise of her mother's voice awakened the girl. She struggled to a half-sitting position, putting one hand over her mouth and barely suppressing a giggle.

"You you look so silly there, Mom," Tina said, her voice strange.

Francine stopped her crying, staring wide-eyed at her daughter.

"What've you done to her?" she asked, staring up at Bart.

He shrugged, trailing the tip of the poker along her hot belly flesh.

"She just kinda freaked. Her friend over there's goin' back into the womb and all that fuckin' shit, while this one just laughs all the time," Bart said.

"You bastards! You ahhhh!"

Bart shut her up with a quick thrust of the rod into her cunt. Francine jerked her hips up, her legs trembling while her fingers scratched at the table. She could feel her nails breaking as the cold iron scraped painfully along her cuntwalls.

"No, no uhhhhh!"

The bonds holding her ankles fast to the table were loose enough for her to jerk her knees at least four inches up from the table. She tried drawing them together, working her slick auntmuscles together to push the dreadful poker from her pussy.

Bart was stirring the handle around and around, making sure the sharp edges of the end were touching all points of her cunt. Francine's ass clenched, slapping together again and again as the fought against the fucking rod.

She felt Bart grabbing her cunthair, snatching the hair from her flesh. Laughing, he shoved the poker in yet another inch. She could hear her daughter crying out in delight, clapping as if she were watching a circus while that poker shot into her mother's body.

Francine screamed. But this time, the shriek wasn't only from pain. Bart was fucking the iron in, twisting it, then shoving it in farther. She could feel a climax explode through her pussy as he ravaged her, gutting a new path into her hot cunt.

Bart raked her clit. She screamed a third time, her climax flushing from her aunt and making her belly swell with delight. She felt explosions go off all over her body, making her weep with pleasure and horror. Each explosion burned more and more, building to yet a higher pitch. Francine arched her body, never thinking death could be so wonderful. She twisted and grunted, the thongs stretching.

"Burn her. Burn, her like you did me!" Tina groaned, laughing happily.

The poker slipped from her cunt, leaving the woman high and dry. She cried out, looking around to see what had happened to the branding iron. It was hovering in the air, inches above what appeared to be a bowl. There were coals in the bowl.

Francine's mind snapped. She laughed, her cry sharp and hysterical. Bart laughed too, pushing the poker around, stirring up sparks that circled up to the ceiling. She strained against the bonds. The coals cracked and hissed while Tina showed her mother a big blackened area on her right inner thigh.

"And now, for your turn," Bart said, his eyes fixed and hard.

"Nooooo!"

Francine struggled wildly, watching with a terrible clarity as Bart pulled the red-hot poker from the flames and brought it up to her cunt. She could feel the heat curling near her pussy, biting at her clit making her pussy sweat even more while the flesh around her inner thighs reddened. Her lips moved against one another, the veins sticking out from her forehead.

Bart paused a minute, then began moving the poker. The end singed her hairs, burning them black, making her shriek even louder. Francine felt the pressure of the rod against her thighs. He was branding her like a cow, as he had done with her daughter and Kathy.

"Eaghghghghghgghhhh!"

Agonizing burning pain combined strangely with Francine's climax, jerking the woman from side to side, her cries mixing with her daughter's hysterical laughter as the hot steel burned into her skin. Bright flashes of light exploded through her brain. Then Francine fell silent.

"Is she going to be okay, then?"

Francine looked at her daughter, feeling anxious as the doctor searched for his answer. All around them men and women in white clattered over the polished tiles of the hospital, ignoring her.

"I would think so. She's suffered from a terrible shock. The kidnapping well, it's hard to say what kind of state she'd be in if you weren't there offering love and moral support."

"Yes…"

Francine's voice trailed off as she sat back down in the waiting room, drumming her fingers against the blue plastic backing of the chair next to her. There was nothing more to do but wait, wait until her daughter snapped out of her hysteria.

The doctors all discounted Tina's story of what her mother had done to her – those tales about electrocution, mass fucking, piss, shit, and everything else that bubbled from her mouth.

Francine knew better, but kept her mouth shut. At least Kathy was silent, staring at the walls, refusing to speak. They would come out of it, Francine was sure.

Francine sighed, slipping her sweater around her shoulders and rising from the chair. The future would be interesting. But then again, it was better than the dullness that had deadened their lives for so many years.

She moved through the corridor, wondering what new adventures Bart would have in store for her and her family.