Not Kyle

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Ferax
Ferax
310 Followers

"Stand up." Kyle said.

I did as ordered. He wrote something big on my stomach.

"Spit it out into your hands, then rub them together and smear it on your breasts." Kyle said.

I did as instructed. It was slightly arousing. It was kind of kinky to give myself over to him like this.

"Good. Now carefully pat your stomach to coat what I wrote with cum. You better be very careful. I wrote it in a washable marker, and if it smears you will not like the consequences." Kyle said.

I carefully did as instructed, seeing he wrote slut in big letters across my stomach.

"Good." He said.

He pushed his thumb against my chest above my breasts, wiping the splooge I smeared there away. Then began writing. He took a step back and admired his work for a second.

"Spread your legs" he told me.

"Okay" i said, then stood bowlegged.

He reached down between my legs and painfully inserted his whole hand. He roughly scraped my insides as if he was determined to recover every last drop of his cum, smearing it over my labia, pubic hair, and thighs. Then he pulled his hand away, looked at me, and slapped me so hard over my chest writing it knocked the wind out of me. I fell back hard onto my butt.

I looked up at him. He looked stern.

"This marker is very easy to wash off. You could easily sweat it off. You forgot me in one moment, now you'll spend the next three days trying not to lose my mark on you. Grab your clothes and get out. Come back In three days, at two pm. And you better still have all your writing." Kyle said.

"Kyle..." I started to say.

"Out!" He said.

I grabbed my clothes and started to get dressed.

"Out!" He screamed again

I held my clothes against me as I ran out the door, dashing into my car.

I turned on my car and cranked up the air conditioner, acutely aware of what kyle said about sweat. Kyle's neighbor was staring at me from his yard. I blushed in shame as I rapidly put my shirt on. I drove off to a nearby alleyway, where I wiggled back into my skirt. I looked at myself in the mirror. My shirt framed all of Kyle's words. I examined them.

'This incestuous slut is property of Kyle Johnson' it said on my chest in two lines.

I took a deep breath. It could have gone worse. I loved Kyle, but I cheated on him. There was a path forward. I was going to try. I checked my arms. They had nice clear 'property of Kyle' written on them. The same with my calves. I looked down at my stomach. Slut was prominently displayed there. Perfectly framed by my shirt They all had a small sheen of Kyle's cum on them. I could see Kyle's message about my incestuous status in my cleavage. A long road to walk. I had gone to Kyle hoping he would just forgive me. We could go to the abortion clinic together and he could hold my hand while I fixed this mess. I felt sticky all over, and the air was not only uncomfortably cold, but smelled of cum. My throat didn't feel right, and I could still taste sperm in my mouth. My chest still stung from the slap, and my butt felt bruised. And my poor pussy felt like it had been repeatedly punched, which it kind of had. And it felt sticky as well. I slid my underwear on. They instantly felt uncomfortable against my cum-stained pussy. I looked at myself in the mirror again. I should have lied, but I would have never felt right. There would have always been that space. Kyle was a man of his word. He would... He would raise my brother's baby as his own. My brother's baby... My baby. Kyle made that decision for me. I was going to be a mother, or lose him. I looked down at slut written on my belly. The belly that would have to grow to keep Kyle. In there, somewhere, a baby was already growing. I looked back at myself in the mirror. I looked scared. I didn't want to hear it, but I had to.

"You're pregnant, Dumbass. You're going to be a mother." I told myself.

I felt the words settle on me like a blanket. I could suddenly feel the weight and pressure of my womb, and Kyle's writings felt like plates on my body. Holding motherhood in. I sighed and drove home, determined to keep those plates strong. I snuck back inside so nobody saw the writing. The three days passed slow as I laid low. I increased the air conditioner as much as I could and stayed home. I called in sick to all my responsibilities, and barely moved, lest the dried cum flake off and ruin a tag. Quite a feat considering how itchy dried cum was. They all faded a bit, but were still readable in the end. Even the impromptu tramp stamp that stated 'this Pregnant slut is property of Kyle Johnson' on the small of my back. I put on a high cut top and long skirt and went to visit Kyle at the appointed time. He inspected the messages then kissed me. Then he sent me to go wash myself off. He was waiting with a permanent marker when I got out. He replaced all his previous messages with new ones in black permanent marker. He replaced the belly 'slut' with 'this pregnant slut is Property of Kyle Johnson'. He didn't redo the one on my back or chest. He had me get dressed and we went to a tattoo artist, where he had the one on my back permanently marked. I didn't see it at the time, but was changed to 'This breeding bitch is property of Kyle Johnson'. Then he went home, took my shirt and bra off, and wrote the one calling me an incestuous slut back on my chest in washable marker.

"You can wash this off and reapply it yourself, but any time I look and find it not clear and legible you will spend an hour on your knees holding my cum in your mouth. Do you understand?" Kyle asked.

"Yes" i replied meekly.

He then kissed me gently, making love to my lips with his mouth. He lead me in to his bedroom and to his bed, gently making out with me. He laid me down on the bed. My fresh tattoo stung as my weight was put on it. He pushed my skirt up over my waist, hooked my panties with his thumbs, and smoothly pulled them down. I flexed my legs multiple times, walking the panties off my body. He reached his hand between my legs, gently rubbing my sex as he kissed along my ear, jaw, and neck. I felt my arousal increasing. I kissed the side of his face, our long established signal of my readiness. Normally he would stop and apply his condom while I kept myself ready, but no longer. He rolled on top of me and immediately guided his cock into my wet hole. It wasn't our first time unprotected, the blowjob and punishment fucking a few days ago took that trophy, but it felt like it. My heart fluttered as he entered me.

"I love you" i whispered to him as he hilted in me.

"I love you too." He said, letting me bask in the feeling of having his penis inside me.

Then he began. He brought his hand back between us, rubbing my clit as he slowly slid almost his entire length out of me. He reinserted with the same smooth motion, ensuring I had the time to process every inch of him filling me back up. He continued to work me until I came. He allowed me to recover while he sat inside me. After a few minutes he began to slide in and out again. Massaging my bitch button with his hand as he worked me up. I came a second time. He ruthlessly continued to plow my hypersensitive vagina as he brought himself to finish. He thrust in hard, twitching as he came not into a condom, but instead into me. He collapsed on top of me, spent. We remained locked together for awhile. Without having to worry about a condom slipping off we were free to enjoy an extended postcoital coupling. A sense of happiness and contentment grew, but the dull stinging of my new tattoo reminded me it came with a cost. Still, I was happy to pay it. I dozed off under my man, still locked together.

Things went mostly back to normal after that. Except I had to keep my neckline, calves, belly, and upper arms covered to hide Kyle's markings. Kyle kept them looking fresh, and never passed up an opportunity to remind me my body was his or that there would be no pain medication for my birth. Other than that, and the few times he caught me with an illegible chest, he was very loving and gentlemanly. As I grew big my brother would sometimes look at me awkwardly. He obviously wondered, but never worked up the courage to ask.

My parents liked Kyle and weren't too bothered by my pregnancy. My dad caught a glimpse of my back tattoo once and confronted me. I was already showing by then and learned awhile ago my dad couldn't bring himself to properly scold my pregnant form.

"What were you thinking young lady?! Do you think he will be there forever?! Do you think that kind of messing is appropriate?! What will future employers think?! How will you explain this to your kids?!" My dad yelled.

I cast my gaze down as I pretended to hold my substantial belly up. I slumped, trying to look as tired, meek, and pregnant as I could. It worked, my obvious manipulation softening his heart and eliminating any need to actually answer any difficult questions.

"I guess he's already marked you in bigger ways. Not sure about the breeding bitch part though." My dad said.

I smiled coyly and rubbed my baby bump. He shook his head and walked off chuckling.

The last few months of my pregnancy I moved in with Kyle. The last few weeks we moved off permanent markers and we went to washable ones. I learned that even my massively gravid state wouldn't protect me from an hour of kneeling for an illegible marking. I also learned that I couldn't go to the hospital until they were washed off. And that neither the fact he washed them off or false labor protected me from kneeling for an hour. So I was damn sure it was time when the time actually came. And Kyle kindly reminded me that my baby would be clawing out of my unmedicated body. And it really hurt. Five grueling hours of gutwrenching labor. We finally neared the end.

I grunted through the labor as another contraction ripped through my body, twisting my insides around and attempting to pull my spine apart. The pain was unbearable, totally undulled as per Kyle's agreement with me. His smug face was grinning down at me. For hours my body continually tried to tie my insides into a knot. I was determined not to give that asshole the satisfaction of hearing me call out in pain, and besides a yelling match with a nurse that objected to me bringing in a small crystal heart necklace, I had not spoken anything but a grunt or 'okay' the entire time. The necklace was around my neck where it belonged, otherwise I was naked. The Necklace felt uncomfortable, but it was there when the baby was put in, so it would be there when the baby came out. I gritted my teeth and pushed with the contractions as I had been instructed. I started to feel like my hips were cracking. Like a painful bubblewrap popping on my insides.

My body burned as if on fire as my brother's daughter split my groin open, seeking the air of the world.

"She's crowning" one of my nurses said.

"One more big push" the doctor said.

I bore down, pushing with all my might, and felt my pussy break and my guts slide out of me. Suddenly the air was split with a baby's cry.

"Congratulations, it's a girl." The doctor said, stating the obvious.

I smiled. It was over, and the baby was out.

"Let me see her." I said to the doctor.

She handed my niece to me. Two legs, two arms, one head, ten fingers, ten toes. She looked normal. She looked beautiful. I was so worried she would be a monster, but she wasn't. I brought her up to my breast, it feeling somewhat natural. The wiggly creature found my nipple and latched on. The doctor started pushing on my stomach. I was still sore all over from being ripped inside out by my new magnificent not-monster. It hurt!

"What are you doing?" I asked. I tried to be forceful, but it came out as more of a pitiful mewl.

"Massaging you to make delivery of the placenta easier." The doctor said.

"The what?" I said, momentarily fearful of a second baby.

"The placenta. Don't worry, it should come out relatively easy." She said.

Remembrance of what was supposed to happen flashed back into my head. While it wasn't comfortable, it didn't feel as painful coming out. The pushing wasn't fun as I was still exhausted and sore from birthing my brother's baby, but it didn't feel like my insides spilled out either.

After it was all done and the nurses left us alone for a bit I looked at Kyle. I kept my word. He said he would claim it. That it would be his.

"Look at your new Daughter" I said.

He walked up to me, and kissed my daughter on the back of the head. She shifted but didn't break her suck.

"I'll be a great father, per our agreement. And per our agreement, after your first period we are going to make another. And you will feel it coming out too, like this one."

I gulped. I was still fresh from labor pains. My body felt like it had been beaten with a stick. I had promised. As long as he kept his word, so too would I.

"Yes love. Of course" I replied. I still felt mild contractions, my womb shrinking down to size. Reassurance that I had some time, but notice that the time was limited.

He kissed me on my lips. He would make a great father, I was sure of it. The nurse came back into the room.

"The doctor needs a name for the birth certificate." She said

"Her Name is Iness. Iness Celese Johnson." Kyle said.

The doctor looked at me. I wanted to call her Ellen, but it really wasn't my choice. Kyle's body, Kyle's choice. I nodded.

After a few days we went home, and I learned giving birth and nursing weren't good enough excuses. I nursed on my knees with a mouthful of cum for several hours, to pay for several days of disobedience. The permanent marker came back out, even for my chest. The messages changed. Incestious bitch became nursing mother and pregnant slut became recovering womb, then six weeks later empty womb. Empty womb lasted a couple months until a stomach flu inspired pregnancy test revealed it to be false advertising. Kyle let the permanent marker fade without punishment. I had thought that planting his own seed in me finally mellowed him out. I was wrong. As soon as no sign of the marker remained he took me to a familiar tattoo shop. My arms and calves were permanently marked as Kyle Johnson's Property. My chest simply had 'Kyle Johnson's'. But what was chilling is what he had placed on my stomach and groin. Right above my pelvic bone where there would be very little stretching was an idealized factory with a baby coming out on a conveyer belt. All across my belly, taking up most of the space, in big block letters that were specifically chosen to preserve readability after multiple stretchings, were the words 'Johnson's Baby Factory'. It did not speak well for my future. Especially when as we walked out he nuzzled my neck and placed his hand over my fresh factory tattoo.

"You will never have the cool relief of painkillers to dampen your birthing punishment" Kyle said. "And I'm going to make sure it lasts for decades."

I had a flash of remembrance of labor and birthing pain, all the while Kyle loomed over me. I shivered at my pronounced sentence, then I turned and passionately kissed Kyle. I was a condemned woman, content with her fate.

Ferax
Ferax
310 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymous11 months ago

I was liking it a lot until her boyfriend turned psychotic.

It would have been 1000x better if he dumped her and her brother comforted her OR he let her get the abortion and demanded to put a baby in her himself.

I think this is worse than rape fantasies because he is supposed to love her but treats her like shit. Whereas rape is basically a control fantasy

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

Oddly enough my boss named her son Kyle after finding out that she was five months pregnant with her boyfriend baby but they oddest thing is that her son looks more like his big brother

SatyrDickSatyrDickover 1 year ago

[31.08.22]

Thoroughly disgusting and repugnant!

-666/5

AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
Psicko

Look for a therapyst you sicko

AnonymousAnonymousabout 4 years ago
message?

Rather sick; no redeeming qualities.

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