A literotic sexstories: Titcage (Chapter 42) by All These Roadworks ,
At the conclusion of a long project of conditioning and degradation by the women-demeaning organisation Titcage, Claire – now known as Fucktwat – prepares for her ultimate submission and humiliation at her wedding ceremony.
Chapter 42THE WEDDING
Her wedding was the happiest day of Fucktwat’s life. And it was all the happier for the misery and degradation that that slut Claire was experiencing in the back of her mind – the frigid bitch she had used to be, who didn’t worship men and didn’t like being raped. The wedding was her opportunity to say goodbye to Claire forever, and be forever the good little degraded slutpuppet she had been taught that she wanted to be.
The guest turnout was huge. Each invitation had been printed on premium white card, announcing the wedding of Michael Beston to his property Fucktwat. The front of the cards showed separate pictures of the happy couple – Michael smiling and dressed in a suit, and Fucktwat represented by a close up of her shaved twat with semen dripping from it.
Michael had been training Fucktwat recently to think of images like this as her primary identity, showing her pictures of her face and then hurting her, followed by cropped pictures of her tits or cunt with no face showing and an associated buzz of sexual stimulation. He had also been getting her to spend time with a mask that fitted over her face that allowed her to see only the output of a tiny camera clipped to her clitoris. Seeing the world from the viewpoint of her cunt was slowly adjusting her to think of her vagina as the centre of her identity in the way that normal girls thought of their head and face. Her mind – such as a slut could have a mind – was in her pussy, and her face was just a hole to put things into.
The invitations had taken a long time to send out, because Michael had made Fucktwat masturbate to orgasm over each and every guest. He found pictures of them and got Fucktwat to imagine fucking the guest, being raped by the guest, sucking the guest’s cock or licking their pussy, while she frantically jilled her fuckhole. And the guest list was long – it included every member of Fucktwat’s extended family, every person she’d gone to school with, including her teachers, all her co-workers, basically every person she could think of who had ever met her. She pictured licking her mother’s cunt, fucking her cousins, having her grade-school teachers fill her full of semen. A camera took a picture of each of her masturbations, and the photo was included in the relevant guest’s invitation with an explanation that Fucktwat had been thinking of the guest as she masturbated. Not every person Fucktwat invited RSVPed immediately – while many were turned on at the thought of seeing the pretty girl degraded at a wedding ceremony, others were disgusted by the whole idea – but Michael arranged for Titcage to make some encouragement payments to get as many people as possible to attend. He felt it was important that his bride-to-be not have anyone left in her life who didn’t primarily see her as a slutpig. Fucktwat’s mother wouldn’t attend even with the money, so Michael got Fucktwat to personally sign the order to have her kidnapped, raped, and brought to the ceremony naked in a cage. Such things were technically still illegal – though not for long – but Titcage’s money and privilege would see that no one much cared about it.
On the morning of the wedding, she woke up naked in bed. Sleeping in a bed instead of on the floor or in a kennel was a special treat because it was her special day. Slutkitten was naked between her legs, licking gently at Fucktwat’s pussy, as she had been doing all night. Slutkitten had slept all yesterday in preparation, so she could stay awake to service Fucktwat and then attend the wedding. Her tongue had kept Fucktwat devastatingly aroused without allowing her to orgasm. Fucktwat’s arms and legs were strapped spreadeagled to the corners of the bed to stop her from pulling Slutkitten’s face against her cunt and grinding it there until she orgasmed. Michael wanted Fucktwat tired, confused, and thinking about nothing but her fuckhole for her big day.
Michael hadn’t come to unbind Fucktwat’s arms yet, so she waited obediently, enjoying Fucktwat’s tongue, and looked down at the floor where her other bridesmaids slept. Her sister Cuntcandy slept alone, her belly big and round like Fucktwat’s. They were both expected to give birth in the next couple of weeks, just after Fucktwat’s honeymoon. Cuntcandy’s breasts were big and swollen. Fucktwat noted happily the painful clamps on her sister’s nipples. Cuntcandy would have started feeling the pain of needing to be milked earlier this morning, but she wouldn’t be allowed the release until well into the afternoon, by which time she should be crying from the agony in her boobs.
Titbunny and Bitchmelons were sleeping together. Bitchmelons was sporting her new, humiliatingly large modified tits, which made Fucktwat wet every time she saw them. The large fake tits had little discs of metal inside them, as did Bitchmelons’ cunt and tongue, and the metal reacted with the magnets in the same locations that Fucktwat had asked to be added to Titbunny. It was funny watching the two girls’ tits pull together, defying gravity to connect with magnetic force, and it was funnier still watching the pain on the girls’ faces as they pulled their tits apart. Even better was when Titbunny was told to eat out one of the girls who had the discs (Rapepuppet was another) and got her magnetic tongue stuck in the other girl’s twat. The magnet was right in the tip of Titbunny’s tongue, and the discs a fair way inside the other girls’ vaginas, near their G-spot, so Titbunny would always feel her tongue being pulled deep inside the other girl’s snatch. Fucktwat liked it best when Titbunny fell asleep that way, her mouth stuck to another girl’s pussy.
Sluthole had fallen asleep sitting upright in a chair. Her conditioning from her new chips had already made it almost impossible to relax her bladder in that position, so it would stop her wetting herself in her sleep. Her bladder must already be starting to feel full – it would be much more uncomfortable by the time she was schedule to piss herself in public at the wedding.
And poor little Rapepuppet – the lesbian formerly known as Amy – lay by herself, rubbing her pussy. Her breasts and twat were still swollen and red with the ant bites Fucktwat had inflicted on her at the hen’s night, and she had not been allowed any painkillers. Stimulating her cunt as she was doing must have been extremely painful, but at the same time being horny was basically the only way to make her body release the endorphins to help her manage the pain. Fucktwat smiled at the thought. And of course, Rapepuppet was recently impregnated too, having been repeatedly fucked by the men in Fucktwat’s life over the past few days. Fucktwat wondered who the father would turn out to be. She felt weird at the thought it might be her own father who had impregnated Rapepuppet, and that Rapepuppet might give birth to a sister to Fucktwat. But Fucktwat knew that despite her father’s intentions, her own baby might be his, so she supposed it didn’t matter.
She felt an orgasm drawing near, but Slutkitten, responsive to Fucktwat’s moods, backed off, not letting Fucktwat cum. Fucktwat moaned, and called Slutkitten a stupid bitch cunt, and begged her to let her orgasm, but Slutkitten ignored her.
After some time, Michael came into the bedroom with Fucktwat’s father, Ben, and Jim. He stuck his cock in Fuckwat’s mouth, and she sucked on it obediently for a few minutes, but before she could make him spurt his delicious semen in her mouth, he withdrew and began to untie her from the bed. She felt herself, entirely outside of her conscious control, babbling in a little-girl bimbo voice, begging Michael to fuck her, to let her cum, to use her as his fuckpig, but he just slapped her across the face. Fucktwat shut up, grateful he had helped her control herself. She found it so hard to think with her pussy this wet, because after all her brain was in her pussy.
The bedroom was in a hotel – the wedding hotel, and the girls were all taken outside – naked, of course – to a private lawn. Here they were sprayed with a high pressure hose to clean them off. Afterwards, the careful process of dressing them appropriately for the wedding was begun.
It started with each girl having her tits bound painfully. It was a simply harness connected at the girl’s back, which drew rope around the base of her breasts, constricting them and making them bulge lewdly. It hurt Fucktwat a lot – which was good, as she knew being in pain was the natural and appropriate state of a slut’s tits – but it was agony for Rapepuppet, with her anti-bitten udders, and for Cuntcandy, with her fuckbags swollen with milk. When they drew the bindings tight, Fucktwat felt a little bit of milk squirt from her nipples like a water gun, and giggled. The clamps on Cuntcandy’s boobs prevented the same from happening to her but a little colostrum leaked past the biting metal grips anyway.
As Michael worked on the tit bindings, Jim brought the girls cordial. The girls drank an enhanced cordial these days – no added sugar or flavour, just a straight mix of urine, cunt juices, semen and aphrodisiac. Fucktwat liked this one better anyway. It felt more appropriate. She wasn’t sure she needed more aphrodisiacs – she was already unable to think about anything but sexual pleasure – but she drank it anyway like the obedient slut she was.
After the girls’ tits were bound, the men took out their cocks and pissed on the girls’ breasts. Michael explained he would have liked to piss in their hair, or make them wear piss-soaked clothes, or wear waterproof bras so their tits would swim in a pool of urine, but it was important that the girls look sexy and fuckable to Fucktwat’s family and friends, and urine might ruin that appearance and make them look completely worthless. (Sluthole, who knew she was going to wet herself at the wedding, looked particularly miserable at this.) So the men were settling for bathing the girls’ tits in piss, so they would at least have some evidence of their role as toilets as Fucktwat walked down the aisle.
Fucktwat giggled happily as the stream of warm piss from her father’s cock bathed her fuckballoons. Today was so good. She was being treated exactly as she deserved.
Once the men’s bladders were empty and the girls’ breasts were dripping with warm, yellow liquid, the dressing continued. Each girl received a vibrating butt-plug that hummed noisily and distractingly in their anus. Each girl also had a painfully heavy weight clipped to their clitoris, which hung by a fine chain between their legs, swinging back and forth with each step and tugging their clit along with it. The weight would occasionally vibrate from within, and the vibrations would travel back up the taut chain to the girl’s clit. There was no clit weight for Fucktwat, but she didn’t wonder why. Imagination wasn’t for sluts.
Next was makeup. Each girl was asked to rub her face vigorously in the cunt of another girl, to get a thick layer of cunt juices smeared across her face. Then, being careful not to disturb the slut honey, a hired makeup artist worked to make each girl look as rapeable and desirable as possible. Hairdressers teased each girl’s hair into a sexual, elegant style.
The dresses came next. Each was fairly minimalist. There was no coverage around the waist and lower chest. Michael would have liked corsets, but they were not safely compatible with the very pregnant bellies of Cuntcandy and Fucktwat, so for consistency he left all the girls naked in this area. Instead they wore a kind of white, lacy half-bra. It looked much like a bra, with white lace straps over the shoulders and a cinch behind the back, and it sat comfortably over the tit binding, but instead of concealing any part of the breast it merely sat beneath the tits, lifting them up and offering them to the audience. None of the girl’s titflesh was obscured from view. The cups themselves that supported the breasts were lined on the inside with tiny pins, with dug painfully into the boobs in a normal standing position and became agonising if the girl’s fuckbags bounced or were jostled.
Below the waist they wore only white high-heeled shoes and white stockings. The stockings clipped on the outside of the thigh to a white lace garter belt, but the interior clips of the stockings were clamped onto the girl’s labia, with the effect that her cuntflaps were pulled wide apart and her pussy was displayed lewdly to the world. The girls were given no panties or any other coverings for their groins.
Each of the bridesmaids wore long-sleeved gloves that ended in cat-mittens, and they were given cat-ear headbands and long plush cat-tails that attached to their buttplugs. They looked like adorable sex kittens. The gloves had a little lock at the wrists preventing them from removing them. The cat mittens had no differentiated fingers so the girls couldn’t hold things or really do anything useful with their hands while wearing them.
The bride had more traditional gloves, with fingers (good for handjobs, she knew), and a long white lace bridal headdress that trailed lacy folds down her back.
Lastly, the girls were made to kneel, and the men stood before them and masturbated. A couple of the hotel staff were drafted so each girl had a man in front of them. When the man reached orgasm, they ejaculated across the face and breasts of the girl in front of them – the final decoration for the wedding. Fucktwat was particularly pleased with the way most of the sperm from her father hit her in her closed mouth, and then dripped off her chin to make sticky patterns on her boobs. She thought it looked pretty. If she had turned up for the wedding without sperm drying on her face and tits, it wouldn’t have been honest, she thought.
The men went away to change into their tuxedos, leaving the girls on the lawn. The girls waited patiently like good little sluts, each either too well trained or too traumatised and abused to even think about moving on their own. Some hotel staff stopped to look at them, but seeing degraded mostly-naked girls in public was becoming more common these days so none were too surprised.
When the men returned, dressed to the nines, they brought with them additional lengths of fine silver chain. It turned out the chains were to be attached by clamps to the nipples of each bridesmaid (Cuntcandy’s attached to her existing nipple clamps), and then connected to a harness. The harness in turn was connected to Fucktwat by clamps on both her nipples and her clitoris, with an arrangement that kept the tension distributed evenly across those three connections. Now when Fucktwat walked, she was literally pulling her bridesmaids along behind her using her cunt and hooters. Michael jokingly described this arrangement as “the bridal train”. It hurt Fucktwat a lot, especially if any of the girls didn’t keep up and move exactly in step with her, which she supposed was the point.
It was now time to enter the chapel. Michael went ahead to wait, as the role of the groom demanded, and Fucktwat led her bridal party to the doors of the chapel. She felt like crying, she was so happy and degraded. She could feel Claire, who she had once been, screaming in the back of her mind. She knew Claire had once wanted to be married to a handsome man, and had hoped to look pure and beautiful and virginal. She knew she was raping Claire’s dream by dressing like this, mostly naked and in terrible sexual pain, piss and cum and cunt juices on her face and breasts. She was glad she was doing that. Claire deserved it.
“It’s alright to cry, honey,” her father whispered in her ear. Her father was, of course, escorting her up the aisle, to give her away to her new husband like the property she was. “You look prettier when you’re crying anyway.”
She did. It was true. She let her eyes begin to water. She knew they were tears of happiness, and she squelched the thought that they meant anything else at all.
As the bridal march began to plan, her father adjusted his trousers and took his cock out. Fucktwat reached down with one hand and took it, and together they began to walk up the aisle, Fucktwat rhythmically pumping her father’s dick as they walked. The two of them had practiced this over the last week, to make sure dumb little Fucktwat got it right.
Fucktwat’s tits hurt from the spikes they were resting on, from being full with milk, and from the chains pulling at her nipples and leading back to her bridesmaids. Her cunt hurt for the same reason. She was as happy as she could be. She looked around, saw her family, her friends, everyone she had ever known in her life, looking at this degraded, tortured, slut who thought only about her cunt, and she smiled. She was glad they were here to support her in her new life, to approve of it, to agree that it was what she was born to do.
Behind her she could hear her bridesmaids moaning in pain and humiliation. Cuntcandy was making little sobbing gasps. Probably she couldn’t think about anything but the pain her milk-swollen fuckbags now. Probably she didn’t even know where she was. She heard Sluthole start to cry as standing in public made her lose control of her bladder and piss began to gush down her thighs as she walked. Fucktwat had been careful to find and invite Sluthole’s parents and family just so they could see this. Up the near altar she could see that Jim was filming everything, and she knew Michael would make each of the girls masturbate to this footage many times in coming days. She was glad there would be a record of the look on Sluthole’s face as she pissed in front of her parents. It made Fucktwat even hornier just thinking about it. She wanted to masturbate as she walked – it would be appropriate – but she wasn’t sure she could keep the rhythm going on her father’s dick if she was pleasuring herself as well.
As she neared the altar, she saw the metal dog cage near the front seats. Inside was her mother, naked and crying, with her hands cuffed and a vibrator stuffed into her pussy. Fucktwat had never seen her mother like this, but it looked so right that she felt a wave of pleasure roll over her. It made her feel suddenly less like a freak herself, and more like a regular slut, living the way that every slut should live.
She hoped her mother was enjoying seeing both her daughters, naked, pregnant, and in pain. She hoped she was enjoying seeing her eldest daughter masturbating her ex-husband. Fucktwat hoped it very much. She hoped her mother was proud of her. Her mother was crying but Fucktwat couldn’t tell – it might be tears of joy. She wondered if she would be allowed to rape her mother, to make her mother lick her pussy.
When she got to the altar, Ben came down and unhooked the “bridal train” from her breasts and pussy. She smiled at him gratefully, and when he left to similarly disconnect the other girls, Fucktwat turned to her father, and let him lift her up by her buttocks and lower her onto his cock. Her naked boobs squished against his chest and she felt the spikes in her breast-supporting cups bite into her agonisingly. She wanted to kiss him but of course her face was covered in cum and cunt juices and no man would want to kiss that. Instead, she bounced happily on her father’s dick, crying all the time, in front of her mother and the gathered crowd, until, pre-primed by the morning and the masturbation, he groaned and ejaculated into her twat. Some of the less horrified and more stimulated crowd clapped appreciatively.
When Fucktwat climbed down from her father, her cunt dripping with his semen, Ben was there. He had a leash in his hand, and the leash was connected to the collar of Fucktwat’s lover, Slutkitten. He wordlessly passed the leash to Fucktwat. Fucktwat beamed with joy, and Slutkitten looked at Fucktwat in adoration. Then, as had been practiced, Slutkitten knelt in front of Fucktwat, put her face between Fucktwat’s legs, and began to clean Fucktwat’s cunt with her tongue.
As Slutkitten lapped at her cunt, Fucktwat looked back down the aisle at the gathered faces. In the middle of the aisle, Sluthole was crawling on all fours, licking up the pool of piss she had made earlier. The site made Fucktwat happy and she moaned with joy.
A sharp cry of pain rang out, and Fucktwat turned to see that Ben had removed the clamps from her sister’s nipples. Blood was rushing back into the abused flesh agonisingly. Not giving her time to recover, Ben continued to bend the kitten-costumed Cuntcandy at the waist, so her tits were hanging down, took his stiff dick out and shoved it into her spread twat, and then painfully and forcefully started to milk her into an expensive looking pewter goblet while fucking her. Cuntcandy wailed and screamed as sensation tore through her abused udders, and she kept making noise until Fucktwat’s father was able to encourage an uncle on Fucktwat’s mother’s side to come up to the altar and plug his niece’s noise-hole with his dick. After that Cuntcandy made only low agonised moans as she suckled on her uncle’s cock and allowed her milk to be squeezed out.
When Fucktwat’s cunt was mostly cleaned of sperm, she relaxed her bladder and pissed into Slutkitten’s mouth. It felt loving and intimate to do this, especially in front of so many people. Slutkitten obediently and affectionately drank it all. By the time Fucktwat’s bladder was empty she felt an orgasm approaching. There was nobody here to stop her from having it, but at the end of the day Fucktwat really was a good, obedient slut, and the only person who was supposed to make her cum today was her husband. Her mind clouded with arousal, she pulled her cunt away from the pleasurable tongue, staggered back from her girlfriend, and then slapped Slutkitten across the face for having almost made her cum. Loving girls hurt each other, she knew, and displayed each other for the entertainment of men, so Slutkitten would be able to feel the love in that slap. And the blush and smile on Slutkitten’s face told her she was right.
With that done, there was nothing left to join her fiancé at the altar and say her vows.
No woman approached a man as an equal, of course, so for this final few feet Fucktwat dropped to all fours and crawled to Michael’s feet. She felt more like an animal than a human. She remembered a conversation she had had with Michael the other night about Bitchmelons, as he raped her. She had said it would be funny to make Bitchmelons marry an actual dog, and suck its cock at her wedding and let it fuck her, and then make her live in a kennel with it for the rest of her life. Michael had liked the idea and said he would make it happen. Bitchmelons didn’t know yet. Fucktwat felt proud of her idea. Bitchmelons would be so happy.
When Fucktwat reached Michael, she knelt at his feet and looked up at him with adoring eyes. He looked down at her, ignoring her eyes, of course, and focusing on her swollen tits. She felt proud to have such big slutty tits. She remembered at her hen’s night that she had made Bitchmelons get a boob job, and that anything she did to her bridesmaids that night was going to get done to her. Would Michael give her even larger breasts? Big obscene ones that made it impossible for her to ever pretend to me a normal girl again? The thought thrilled her even as part of the back of her mind – the Claire part – panicked and felt sick.
Michael took his cock out of his suit pants, and Clare gratefully took it in her mouth, suckling on it as the celebrant began to speak.
“Gentlemen and whores,” the celebrant said, “We are gathered here today to yoke this rapeable fuckslut to this man as his lawful property, and to celebrate the final affirmation of this slutty little bitch’s place as a subservient toy for a very special man. A marriage is a very special occasion, because it is a formal ceremony by which we strip a female of her final independence, and give over her vestigial rights to think, to control her body, and to resist lawful chastisement to a single man, who from that day forward shall use and discipline her in the manner befitting a pig that thinks with its vagina.”
Fucktwat realised she was nodding without realising it, agreeing with what was being said. Michael seemed to enjoy the tugging this caused on his dick as she bobbed her head, because he reached down to caress her face.
“Michael,” said the celebrant, “do you take this little cockslut in front of you as your lawful property, to own, to rape, to abuse, and to degrade, for as long as you fail to tire of her? And do you promise to keep her tamed and disciplined, to stop her from having to think, to teach her her place in the world, and to ensure that she never considers herself the equal of a real human?”
“I do,” said Michael, and Fucktwat felt a spasm of pure ecstasy go through her.
“And Fucktwat,” said the celebrant, “do you take this man as your master, with total control over your body, your life, and your mind? And do you promise to be a good little slut for your master, to keep him sexually satisfied, to beg him to rape and abuse you and keep you feeling constantly degraded and in pain? And do you promise to degrade and humiliate other girls for him, and strive to help him fuck and rape your friends and co-workers and any other sluts you encounter?”
Fucktwat realised she didn’t know what to do. She very much wanted to say yes, but she was a slut – she shouldn’t be making a choice about her own life. And she could feel Michael was close to cumming in her mouth – she shouldn’t take her lips off his cock for something as unimportant as speaking. She looked up at Michael as she sucked on his dick, pleading with her eyes for him to tell her what to do.
“Say you do, slut,” he said to her, “but keep sucking.”
“I do,” she mumbled, the words barely intelligible around her mouthful of penis.
And she looked up at Michael’s face as she did so, and she knew that he didn’t love her at all, and only regarded her as something to put his cock in sometimes, and she knew that was just as it should be. And she knew what would come after this moment, because it was exactly the things she had been trained to expect for herself and to enjoy. She and the other bridesmaids would be given to the guests to be raped and tortured for the rest of the night. The female guests would be dosed against their knowledge with strong aphrodisiacs and then raped as well. At some both Fucktwat and her sister would rape their mother for the entertainment of the male guests. And then probably one or more of the sluts would be fucked by a dog, because she had seen the glint in Michael’s eyes when she had suggested marrying Bitchmelons to a canine, and she knew Michael would want to try it as soon as possible.
It was perfect. It was the life she deserved.
And as the celebrant pronounced her and Michael husband and wife, Michael reached down and pulled her hair, forcing her face down over his cock, and Fucktwat choked and struggled as he ejaculated, filling her mouth with his cum. She thought she might run out of air, he held her down on his dick so long, but when he finally released her she felt soft feminine hands on her shoulders and she turned to find Slutkitten kneeling beside her, and she remembered what she had promised when Michael had made Slutkitten her slave.
Smiling, she leaned across to the naked blonde teenager, and kissed her passionately on the lips, and she let Michael’s unswallowed sperm wash from her mouth into Slutkitten’s. And Slutkitten looked back at her, tasting the cum, with eyes filled with love. And Fucktwat knew that this perfect happiness she felt, the happiness that made her want to cry and scream and hide, had been given to her by Titcage. And together with Slutkitten, she knew she was going to spend the rest of her life bringing that happiness to as many other sluts as she possibly could.
A lot of them didn’t know they were sluts yet. They thought they were women, and human, and had rights. But sluts was what they were. And, sooner or later, they would know that. And it would make them perfectly happy.
Just like Fucktwat.
THE END
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Author’s Afterword:
EDITED OCTOBER 2019
That’s it! This is definitely the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who’s read and enjoyed the story and offered comments along the way. Thank you also to XNXX.com / sexstories.com for hosting the original publication. I’m sure this is not where many of you would like the story to stop, or how you’d like it to end, so I encourage you to have a go at writing your own additional chapters or alternate endings – just if you do so please include prominently in each story that you are not the original author.
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