My Sister-in-Law, the Bitch

My Sister-in-Law: The Bitch.

Warning: The following story contains vast amounts of consensual/non-consensual torture and simulated rape. With his sister-in-law's help and consent, the perpetrator brutally assaults, tortures, and rapes her.

If this is offensive to you, please, read no further.

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My brother is a bit of a dick, you know? He's a nice enough guy most of the time, but once he gets a few under his belt, he turns into a condescending snob.

His wife Christina, the bitch I call her, is an heiress. More money than any one person could possibly spend in a lifetime. She comes from one of those old money families like the Rothschilds, Hiltons, Carnegies, etc., you see and hear about all the time. What she's doing with my brother, I have no idea.

I have even less of an idea about what Christine's sister Milla is doing with me.

We're not old money. We're not even new money. We're middle class. Part of The Bourgeoisie as Christina disparagingly remarks on the rare occasion she has accompanied Bruce to one of our family's get-togethers.

Christina and Bruce met at Tennessee University seventeen years ago. My brother was there on a tennis scholarship. Christina was there because it was the best College that would accept her. It's always Christina to her face, not Chrissy, Tina, or Chris, or she will favour you with an icy look of disdain and then ignore you.

Christina's grades were terrible, and her attitude worse. Even with her father's money, he couldn't get Harvard, Yale, or even Berkeley to accept her.

Milla and I met at Bruce and Christina's wedding. Unlike her sister, Milla is a kind, generous soul. There's only one problem, Milla is a dud in the sack. Well, that's unfair. Milla likes sex and is quite good at it, but it's strictly vanilla sex. There's no kink in her at all. Whereas I love a bit of kink in my sex.

From what my brother says, Christina loves sex. The kinkier and dirtier, the better. But, unfortunately, he's like Milla. He's all straight vanilla sex with little time for bondage or spanking games at all. I've thought for ages that we each married the wrong sister.

Bruce was a rising star on the tennis tour when he met Christina. At just 18, he made it through the qualifiers and into the main draw for the 2005 US Open. Unfortunately, he got thrashed 0-0-1 by one of the top seeds in the first round, but it's still one hell of an achievement to get through.

Christina attended one of the after-match functions as a celebrity guest. She thought Bruce would be a tennis superstar, so he was an acceptable match for her.

It didn't work out like that, however. Bruce blew his shoulder serving for the match against Carlos Montoya in the 2008 Cincinnati Masters. The surgeons repaired his shoulder, but Bruce lost his booming serve and forehand. He competed for another couple of years without distinction before quitting as the tour events he was invited to became increasingly minor and obscure.

Christina left him and returned to her father's place. Her father told her to stop being a snotty princess and make the marriage work. He gave Bruce a minor executive role in one of his many businesses.

"Make it work, have lots of babies," Christina's dad told her. "You're not much use to me except to provide heirs."

Christina and Milla are their father's only two children.

Bruce and Christina live in an enormous mansion in Charlestown, Boston, Massachusetts. It's one of Christina's dad's places. The house has an entire staff of housekeepers, maids, pool boys and gardeners. There's even a driver, FFS.

Christina has never worked a day in her life.

"I'm too rich and beautiful to work," she says airily.

Christina and Milla's dad offered Milla and me a house and a job in one of his companies, but Milla didn't want a bar of it. We happily live together in middle-class suburbia. Milla works as a receptionist in a medical centre, earning a low but honourable wage.

The girls are beautiful, that is for sure. Christina looks a lot like Mila Kunis. She's paler than Mila, but they could easily be related. She has the same jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, her mouth is wide, and her lips are full. Her eyes are quite narrow, but her corneas are bright white.

Christina is only 5 ft. 4 in. (163 cm), so she is so tiny to be that big of a bitch. She weighs just 115 lbs (52Kg). Christina keeps her 32-25-32 body tightly toned. But her personal trainer is one of the many she's fucking behind my brother's back.

Milla is taller and heavier than her younger sister. She's 5 ft. 9 in. (175 cm) tall and weighs around 130 lbs (59 kg). My wife's natural hair is light brown, but she typically dyes it blonde or red. With her wide blue eyes, broad shoulders over a sexily svelte figure, and her delectable 34-25-34 measurements with 34C breasts, my wife is often confused with her namesake, Milla Jovovich.

Bruce whinges that Christina never puts out. I want to tell him that she does, just not for him. I know for sure that Christina's fucking her trainer, driver, the pool boy, and at least one of the gardeners. There may be others outside her home that she fucks, but I don't have cameras there to record her.

At Bruce's request, I did the internal and external security cameras for their house. I wired it all up so that the house is fully automated. Lights, aircon, TVs and cable can all be operated remotely via an app on your phone.

There are obvious security cameras that cover the outside of the house. There are the usual ones at the doors. They watch the front and back doors and the other two external entry doors. There's camera coverage all through the house. The only rooms that don't have ceiling and wall-mounted security cams are the ones you'd expect to remain private. Bathrooms, water closets, and bedrooms have no cameras you can see.

Neither Bruce nor Christina knew that I wired the whole house with hidden miniature cameras complete with microphones. They're everywhere. There is literally nowhere you can be inside the house without me being able to see you.

I didn't do anything pervy like inside toilet seats, but everywhere else is covered. So I can watch you showering, using the bathroom, changing, and sleeping. There are lots of different views in the bedrooms. I can watch from above with the ceiling cam, from the headboard, both sides and the foot of the bed. The camera that records from the end of the bed is inside the wardrobe's mirror.

I recorded Christina fucking one of the staff, edited it into a home movie, and then released it to PornHub before storing copies to send to my brother and her father.

She doesn't know, but Christina has had almost 50,000 hits on her PornHub page. I pixelate her face, but if you've seen Christina in a backless dress or her bikini, you can tell it's her because she has a small tattoo of a black swan on her left shoulder blade. That tattoo is distinctive, so it's relatively easy to tell that it's her.

I've filmed her fucking the pool boy the most often. The pool boy has the porn clichéd colossal cock. She loves it, it seems. She especially loves it when he gets her hidden kink bag out of the closet and ties her up.

Some of the things he's done to her, I'd love to do myself. He's smacked her face, used a riding crop on her tits and clitoris, and fucked her delectable pussy. It seems Christina has a rape fantasy fetish because the more roughly her pool boy uses her, the harder and quicker she gets off.

I haven't shown the videos to my brother. It would be obvious who had set up the cameras to take them, and I know he won't concentrate on the fact his 'darling wife' is fucking everyone except him. He'll only be pissed at me for hiding the cameras and filming her.

"You've always wanted a chop at her," he'll yell at me.

I would, but only if I could first insert a ball gag to shut the fucking bitch up.

I'm not a computer geek by trade. I'm very good with all that stuff, but it's not what I do for a living. I did go to Berkeley. I did a double degree in Human Biology and Psychology. My PhD thesis is on why people stay in abusive relationships.

I'm trying to establish if there's a biological component as well as the obvious psychological one. It's been fascinating. I have some theories I'd like to test out, but what I want to do will never be approved.

I believe one of the reasons people stay in abusive relationships is the link between pleasure and pain. People who have managed to escape such relationships often say how good the sex was. I'm curious to discover whether they have become addicted to the endorphins from pleasure overriding the pain of physical abuse.

That was where my plan to break my bitch sister-in-law of her snotty and snobbish ways was born. I want to take her to a hideout I've built on some property I own in rural Maine and try some pleasure and pain theories on her.

On the part furthest from any boundary of this property, I've built a 'Doomsday Shelter'. It's totally self-sufficient with air cleaning and recycling units, water filter stations and wastewater recovery devices. I have six Tesla batteries buried beside the shelter connected to solar panels hidden in the tree canopies all around them.

Even in a 'Nuclear Winter', I'll have enough juice in these batteries for at least six months. In addition, I have diesel generators to add extra power to the batteries on rainy or cloudy days. So, theoretically, at least, I can hide out there for at least the two years it's going to take for the air to be safe to breathe after a nuclear attack.

The shelter has at least two years of dried and canned foods. Water comes from the spring I built my escape pod around.

Everything is soundproofed and carefully hidden. The ground above the shelter has been salted with a mixture of burnt lime and coffee grounds, so there's no chance of sniffer dogs finding it. When I head out to my property to do some more work on it, I always file a walking trail report. Then I park my car in a carpark near the head of the trail and hike into my property. I take a different way every time, so no path leads to my shelter. I've purchased a wide-wheeled trolley that leaves little to no marks to carry Christina to my site.

I plan to take Christina there and try my theories out on her, simultaneously answering my questions and fixing my brother's troubles. The only reason I haven't taken her already is because if it doesn't work, I'm in big trouble. Christina is into her kink, but what I have planned for her is pretty extreme.

What Christina doesn't know is that, although I find her incredibly sexually attractive, I think she's a stuck-up bitch. So, when our families catch up for drinks or dinner, she and I chat amicably. One of the times we were out for dinner, I waited for a moment when Milla and Bruce were absent from the table, then showed Christina one of the clips I recorded of her and Carlos (the pool cleaner) going at it.

Carlos had Christina tied to the coffee table as he used a soft suede flogger to hit her back and ass. Christina moaned and begged Carlos to hit her harder and hurry up, and stick his cock in her cunt. The scene finished with Carlos pulling out of her pussy and showering her lower back with cum.

Going pale, Christina gasped, "How do you have this? I turn all the cameras off when I'm fucking Carlos!"

Not willing to reveal I have hidden cameras all over her house, I lied, "Christina, I can override the cameras at any time. So, you wouldn't believe how much footage I have of you fucking almost every staff member. Strangely, though, given you and my brother are married, I have almost no footage of you fucking him."

"What are you going to do with this, John? She asked. "Show it to your brother?"

"I thought about that, Christina," I replied. "But then I thought, 'Bruce loves you. And you obviously love Bruce; it's just that you need more from your sex life than Bruce is prepared to give you.' So I'm not going to wreck your marriage for you.

But I want you to think about this: I have the same problem as you with your sister. I love her, and she loves me, but Milla is straight in bed. She won't even let me have anal. So instead of risking a sexually transmitted disease with all your exterior lovers, I want you to become mine. Together, we'll explore your kink fantasies."

Christina stared at me steadily before saying, "And if I refuse?"

Holding her gaze, I answered, "Then some of these clips might find their way onto the internet. I'm sure the media will have a field day showing and talking about you appearing in a sex film. Who knows? Maybe you will become the next Kim Kardashian."

"Dad will disown me. Your brother and I will be penniless and living on the streets."

"I guess you'd have to stop being 'too beautiful to work' then, won't you?" I callously replied. "Looking as pretty as you do, you'll make a good living working the streets."

Christina didn't say anything, but I could see her mind furiously working, trying to decide what to do.

"I'm going to tell your brother you've recorded me and go to the police," she finally said.

"He's coming now. Would you like me to show him the clip?"

"No!" Christina said quickly. "Come and see me around 10.00 am tomorrow, and we'll discuss this more then.

The following day, Christina opened the door at my knock and quickly ushered me inside.

"You're going to show me if you're any good in the sack, John," she told me. "Show me you can dominate me by making me your bitch. I will resist you with all that I have, but if you can make me orgasm until I beg you to stop, I'll make this a permanent thing."

"Promise you will give up all other lovers except Bruce and me, and you've got a deal."

"I'll have to sack them all, John. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good staff?"

"And I care, because?" I replied.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed. "Okay! We have a deal, but you'd better be as good as you think you are!"

"Show me to your room, and get your fetish kit out. Carlos is nothing but a fucking amateur."

I'd brought a bag with me full of the small amount of BDSM gear I still have. Most of the kit I used when active in the scene has perished beyond use, but I'd bought a few modern items on my way over.

Putting batteries in the G-Spot vibrator I'd bought, I plugged the deep tissue massager into the wall. My bag has numerous lengths of soft silk rope that are perfect for tying someone up. No need for the lazy man's Velcro cuffs and anklets with me.

Sitting on the edge of Christina's marital bed, I indicated a spot directly in front of me, "Stand there and strip, little miss christina," I said. "Dance for me as you do."

Christina opened her mouth to object, but I forcefully brought my hands together and snapped, "Right now, miss."

Caught by surprise, Christina did as she was told. Christina is used to giving the orders, not taking them, but, as I suspected, there's a deeply submissive streak under the spoilt brat exterior.

As soon as she was naked, I stood and wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her hips. Then, picking her up without any apparent effort, I lay her in the middle of her bed and quickly tied her extremities to the bed's four corners.

Taking two thinner and shorter pieces of rope out of my bag, I wrapped them around Christina's tits before tying them off. Christina moaned softly, as craning her neck to peer down, she watched her tits and nipples turning purple.

Using my left hand to flick her nipples with my thumb and forefinger, I trailed my right down her toned, flat stomach, across her waxed pubis and onto her pussy. Then finding the entrance to her pussy lips with my middle finger and slipping it inside her, I ran my thumb in firm circles over her tiny pleasure nub.

Another deep moan issued from Christina's mouth as my finger slid inside her pussy.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open, "Oh, shit! I'm going to cum!" She exclaimed.

Gasping and moaning as her juices poured out of her pussy and over my invading finger, Christina shuddered through her first orgasm that day. Then, replacing my finger with the G-Spot vibrator, I quickly brought her to a second and third orgasm.

Now that I had her bubbling along, I wanted to drive Christine up to the peak of erotic ecstasy. So, I brought a plastic ruler out of my bag. Then, holding the on/off button on the vibrator, I began alternately smacking each of her nipples. First, I'd whack a nipple with the ruler, then, as Christine flinched in pain, I'd momentarily flick the vibrator on. This sent a sudden jolt of pleasure deep into Christina's cerebral cortex.

Before long, Christina's mind equated the ruler's hit with a brief moment of exquisite ecstasy. Then, slowly increasing the intensity and frequency of my hits along with how long I left the vibrator buzzing, I remorselessly drove Christina up the path to sexual nirvana.

Finally, with one last vicious hit across both nipples, I turned the G-Spot vibrator to full intensity. Holding it on Christina's G-Spot as I took her clitoris in my mouth, I lashed my tongue as fast as possible over and around her most sensitive external pleasure nub.

The combined pleasure/pain blasted Christina into orgasmic heaven. Her pussy pulsed open, and her womanly essences gushed from her as she came over and over again.

Limply sagging against her binds, her hair sweat plastered to her face, Christina moaned, "No more. I can take no more. Please, John, You have to stop."

With a satisfied smile, I released Christina from the bed and helped her to sit up, "I'm pretty sure that counts as begging me to stop, little miss christina, don't you?"

Surprisingly giving me a hug, Christina answered, "Yes, John. It does. Now, tell me, what do you want to do to me?"

"Letting me cum on your face will do for this time," I replied.

Christina tried to refuse, "I don't really even like cum in me, John, let alone on me. I'll toss you off, and you can cum in my panties if you want."

"I give you all that pleasure, and I get tossed off? I don't think so, little one. I can smack your ass until you beg me to cum on your face if you prefer?"

Unwillingly closing her eyes, Christina said, "Cum on my face then."

Wiping my cock's head along her lips, I replied, "Open up and give me a bit of a suck, miss."

Christina sighed but let me inside. She even begrudgingly ran her tongue around my glans before I pulled out and shot all over her beautiful face. In my eyes, with globs of my cum dripping down her face, off her chin and onto her tits, she looked perfect.

"Getting back to my point, John. Other than the occasional session like this, what do you want to do with me?"

I laid out my plan, "You usually take a break at this time of year, don't you? You join your old college friends for a month of debauchery in Cancun."

Holding my hands up at her attempt to deny my accusations, I said, "I know it's a month of debauchery because I've heard the college kids talking about seeing you there and some of the things you have gotten up to. Some of them have received blowjobs and sex from you."

"And? What if I have done those things?"

Ignoring her, I added, "You and your friends aren't shy about putting on a show for the college kids, either. According to the frat boy's chat, you'll do full-on lesbian sex shows on your balcony and sometimes in the pool."

"Okay, but why do you bring this up?"

"Because this year, you're not going. You will tell Bruce you are taking your usual trip, but you will cancel all plans with your friends."

"But I like my annual trip down there. It's the best sex that I have all year."

"As soon as you're on the plane, I'll release the first of the clips I have recorded then."