Sally's Reprogramming: Conclusionbyflyingcarpet©
Frank awoke fully. He'd been dozing on his step-daughter's bed, holding her half-naked form in his arms, enjoying her presence. It was getting late, and they had to get cleaned up before Sally's mother came home. He pushed Sally's firm ass and finally got her moving. She stood up in front of him, stretching her trim eighteen year old body in an enormous yawn. She raised her arms to the ceiling and bent backwards as she stood on her toes, her large breasts pulled tight and her hips thrust towards him.
Frank's well rested cock surged with renewed energy at the memory of the beautiful hairy pussy under the green and gold cheerleader skirt. He straightened up and gently stroked his hardening cock. Sally pulled him to his feet and kissed him. "Come on, let's go downstairs."
Frank followed his hot step-child out of her bedroom. She led him, not to the garage, where she'd tossed her cheerleader top into the driveway, but onto the deck in the back. She pushed him onto a deck chair and knelt before him, her green skirt covering her firm thighs. Sally placed her soft hand on Frank's cock and squeezed it gently. "How do I make this feel good," she asked. "I've tried this before, and they complained I wasn't doing it right."
Frank leaned back in the chair and reached out to stroke her long blonde hair. "There's no 'right way.' Just do what you think will make me feel good, and I'll let you know what works for me. Everyone is different." He spread his legs slightly and relaxed. He was in for a good time now.
Sally stroked Frank's cock, looking at it carefully. It more than filled her hand, but wasn't so large she couldn't wrap her fingers around it tightly. It's head was a swollen purple mushroom. The purple coloring ended just below the head in a light brown band that circled his shaft. Past that, Frank's cock was white, with bulging veins under the skin, and a few black hairs grew near the base of it. His hair was thick, with a good salting of white, perfectly natural for his forty five years. His balls were large eggs floating loosely in his scrotum.
Sally let go of his cock, and as it slapped his belly she lifted his balls, weighing them tenderly. Her nails scratched his hair beneath his scrotum gently. Frank whispered words of encouragement. Sally bent to smell them, her blond hair brushing Frank's hard cock. They smelled of sweat and sperm and her own special pussy aroma from their earlier sexual games. She felt wetness between her own legs.
Gently she lifted each testicle and kissed it, pulling his hard cock to her soft cheek with her other hand. She turned her face and ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, circling carefully around the red rim. The hand she massaged his balls with moved to grasp his shaft, and her other hand slipped down to finger her clitoris. Frank's "Yes, that's it baby," was louder now.
Sally's tongue circled his head several times, jerking gently on his shaft. Sally pulled back and looked up at Frank, who smiled down at her. She looked at his dick, and saw a clear liquid oozing out. She licked it, pushing her tongue into the small hole. Her lips closed down and she put his head in her mouth. Sally sucked on it and flicked at the hole with her tongue. Frank's hips were abortively thrusting up, moving and stopping as Frank resisted his desperate urge to jam his cock down her throat.
Sally took the not very subtle hint and slipped his cockhead deeper into her mouth, gradually engulfing him until he was at the back of her throat. There was still an inch or so to go before her lips would press on his pubic bone. "Ah," Frank moaned. "Pull back slowly, and go up and down, just as slowly. You're great."
Sally followed his instructions, and her blonde head bobbed slowly and gently in her step-father's middle-aged lap. Her fingers were furiously abusing her clit now, and she moaned around the hard cock in her mouth. She couldn't figure out if she should fall flat on her back and come on her fingers, or jump up and ride this delicious cock. Fuck it, she decided. She stood up and lifted a leg to straddle her step father.
A hand grabbed her when she was off balance and turned her, and another pounded her in her left eye. She fell, shocked into silence. Her mother had come home early. Sally scrambled backwards on her ass, pushing into the deck railing. She couldn't dodge the boot that kicked her ribs and landed a solid blow on her thigh.
"Stay on the ground, you bitch," Nancy screamed. She threw the cheerleader top she'd found lying in front of the garage at her. Turning to her husband, Nancy dumped Frank off his chair onto the deck. She kicked at him and screamed "You worthless piece of shit! I spend all day working and this is what you're doing? Fucking my slut daughter? I'm gonna kill you!"
Frank grabbed the over turned chair and thrust it at his enraged wife. She stumbled over it, giving him time to get his feet under him. He pushed her away and kept his naked feet away from her stomping boots. "What the hell do you care, you fat bitch? We haven't fucked in four years. What did you expect me to do, sit around and play with myself? Beg you for favors? No fucking way!"
"You ungrateful two faced bastard. When I'm done you'll never have to worry about fucking again. I'm going to put that toothpick in the blender!" Her voice raised to a shriek and she drove into Frank, pushing him back and pinning him against the wall of the house. Frank put his arms in front of his face, trying to protect his eyes from his wife's flailing fists. She kicked him savagely in his shin and hit him in the nose with an elbow when he bent over. His head crashed back into the wall, and he saw stars.
Expecting more attacks, he cowered. He heard a loud ringing thud, and realized that Nancy lay collapsed at his feet. Looking up, he saw Sally standing behind her, holding the shovel he'd used before to redo the garden. The blade had a saucer sized spot of blood that was starting to run down the handle. His wife's head was curiously flat. Frank stepped over her still form and took the shovel from his crying step-daughter. He looked from her to her mother, speechless. He absently ran his hands over the handle of the shovel. Lifting it, he moved closer to Sally. "Sally...I...what did you do? I think you killed her."
Sally looked at him, her eyes widening. "Oh, no! Don't get near me! You killed my mother! HELP! HELP!" Sally backed away, then turned and ran. She grabbed her cheerleader top from where her mother had thrown it, and ran around the house into the street. "Help me! Please help me!"
Lights came on along the suburban street, and the neighbors came onto their porches to see a half-naked large breasted blond child apparenlty running from a man clad only in a tee-shirt, waving a large bloody shovel.
Sally dodged into a house, and Frank realized the position he was in. He ran back behind the house, snatching his shorts up from the driveway that Sally had thrown out earlier that day. The neighbors had had plenty of time to see them sitting there in the sun. He pulled them on and ran back to his wife's body. She wasn't breathing at all. His pulse was pounding too wildly to tell him if Nancy still had one of her own. Sirens sounded in the distance, getting louder. What the fuck was that girl doing, he wondered. What happened to her? He started CPR.
Cars with screaming sirens stopped out front. Two police officers came around the house, guns drawn. One put handcuffs on him, the other examined the body. "She's dead." They dragged Frank out front, and pushed him roughly in the car. He sat there staring at the people as the ambulance loaded and hustled his wife's dead body off.
Sally came out from her neighbor's house, wrapped in a bathrobe and crying. Sheheld a ripped cheerleader's uniform out to a policeman. "He raped me. My step-father ripped my shirt and raped me!" She pointed at Frank sitting in the police car. The police officers gave him a hard stare and turned to say comforting words to her.
Rape? I didn't rape anyone, Frank thought confusedly. She attacked me. That uniform wasn't ripped before, either. Sally must have ripped it on something when she ran out. What the hell's going on here? His mind whirled. The cops took him away and threw him in a cell. He sat on the bunk, shivering in the air conditioning, the thin knit blanket doing almost nothing to protect him.
Several hours later, he was summoned by a detective. Frank decided to answer questions. He didn't think he needed a lawyer. "I'm detective Murphy, Mr. Anderson. We have some serious charges against you. Why don't you sit down and tell us what happened. We just want to find out the truth."
Frank sat back and drank the offered coffee. He told them of recent events, starting with his plan to seduce Sally and ending with the interrupted blowjob on his deck. He omitted all mention of he attempt to sleep-program Sally to be submissive. Frank described Sally's bludgeoning of her mother, and his shocked response.
"You 'seduced' her? Can you explain why there are computer speakers hidden under your step daughter's bed, and why those speakers are connected to your computed downstairs? What about the files we found on that machine, strange seductive whispers? If your step-daughter hit her mother with the shovel, as you say, where are her fingerprints? And many witnesses say they saw you chasing her with that shovel.
"Your daughter says you raped her. Will you do us a favor and admit the semen we've collected from her is yours? The charges against you are serious: Rape. Incest. Murder during the commision of a felony. You're old. If you cooperate, perhaps the District Attorney will be lenient and you'll have a chance to see the light of day again before you die. They like white old new guys in the state penitentiary. That's if the charges don't get a death penalty. Take him back."
Frank sat in the chair numb with shock. He didn't notice when the guard's strong hands lifted him and pushed him into a walk down the hall. Did Sally set this up? Did the cops misconstrue what she told them? "HEY! I want a lawyer!"
The guard slammed the cell door in his face. "Yah. I'll let them know."
The detective thought about Frank's story. It hung together well, but that girl's tale was very convincing, too. He re-examined the reports. Sitting up, Murphy grabbed the telephone and dialed the hospital. "Doctor, I'm investigating the rape of Sally Blair. I was reading your description of her injuries. You describe bruising on her eye and cheek, her ribs, and her leg. Did you examine her vagina?"
"Yes. There was no bruising there, but bruising doesn't always happen in rape cases."
"Oh. Thank you doctor." Murphy thought some more, and went home.
In the morning, he was knocking on Sally's front door. She answered the door with a towel on her head a white terry cloth robe belted around her. "Oh, hello detective. Thank you so much for helping me last night. Would you come in? Would you like some coffee?"
"No, thank you, miss. Do you have anyone staying with you right now?"
"No, not yet. I don't want to be bothered by people now. Please sit on that chair." She sat demurely in the corner of the couch near the indicated chair.
"I understand that. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?"
"No, go ahead. How can I help you put that bastard away?"
"Well, your step-father says the sex was consenual...I know, I know, they all do...and that you're the one that killed your mother. Can you describe for me again the events of yesterday?"
"Do I have to? It's so embarassing." She looked away, staring at the floor. "I was getting dressed to practice my cheers, when Frank called me down to spot his stupid weights. I hate that, but I did it. I stood next to him and helped him put the weights up when he asked. I turned to go, but he grabbed me from behind and pulled me onto his lap. I screamed, but he stuffed a sock in my mouth. I could barely breathe. He'd been working out for months and he's pretty strong now.
"He grabbed at my wrists but only caught the sleeves. I slid my arms inside and struggled to get them free of my cheerleader uniform. He let go of the sleeves and grabbed the collar, pulling it apart and ripping it down. I pulled my arms out through the rip and pushed him away. He was distracted by my bouncing boobs, I wasn't wearing a bra, I like the feel of them bouncing free. You understand, don't you officer?" She paused coyly for an answer.
"Fully. Please go on, miss."
"Well, I managed to push him away for a bit, and turned to climb over the bench. He caught me, and forced me down over it. I knelt there, my naked boobs hanging, and squeezed them cruelly, pinching my nipples till they hurt. Then he lifted my skirt, and stuck a finger roughly into me."
"You weren't wearing underwear, Miss Blair?"
"No. I hate underwear. I love the feel of freedom, and the breeze between my legs is so stimulating. There's nothing wrong with that, is there, officer?"
"Ahem...No. No, of course not. That explains why there were no ripped panties at the scene. Please, continue with your description."
"Of course. Well, he stuck his finger in me. It didn't hurt. It felt pretty damn good, in fact." Sally's voice lowered, and she spoke hesitantly, "I was telling him to stop, but I liked it. I wanted him to take me. My pussy was dripping wet. Is that right, detective? Is there something wrong with me?" She started to cry.
"No, no. You're fine. Some women get excited during a rape. Besides, what we found on the computer suggests he was pre-conditioning you, brainwashing, for months before yesterday. You've done nothing wrong. Are you all right, miss?"
She nodded. "Could I have some water, please?"
The detective went into the kitchen, filled a glass and handed it to her.
She smiled at him, her tears making pulling at all his protective instincts. "Thank you." She drank and continued, "he thrust his finger in and out rapidly, yet gently, not bashing into me. I can't help it." She moaned. "I came and came all over his fingers. I loved it and wanted more. I begged him to stop, and I begged him to continue. I never had an orgasm before, I didn't know what was happening to me. He stopped, and knelt behind me. I lay there limply, exhausted. Suddenly something hard stabbed at me, again and again, missing. I squirmed out of his way. He let go of my hands and grabbed my hips to keep me still. He thrust into me, filling me. It hurt, but it felt so damn good, too. I couldn't help it, I thrust back at him. His filthy penis was jammed deep into me before I could say no. His weight pinned me to the bench, and he groped my boobs again. He thrust and thrust and thrust into me, I was begging him to stop for real, now. Suddenly he stopped, then thrust hard two or three times. I was filled with a strange warmth, and then he pulled out of me. A hot liquid ran down my leg.
"He pulled me up and dragged me upstairs, leaving my top and his shorts somewhere in the garage. He took me in my bedroom and lay on top of me, sucking and biting my nipples...why do men love doing that, detective?"
The detective started. "We just do, miss. We're all fascinated by the female body, I suppose. Please concentrate on your story. Were you a virgin before yesterday?"
Sally looked at him furtively. He wasn't looking at her, and there was a bulge in his suit that wasn't there when he sat down. Good, he wasn't concentrating on her details. She sipped water and resumed.
"No, I've had one other, a boy. Frank raped me again. In my own bed. He even stroked my naked body with my own teddy bear. He spent hours in me and on me. He licked my pussy, and I couldn't help it. I had another orgasm, shrieking my pleasure at the top of my lungs. He slapped me in the face, then, and that's how I got this black eye.
"After it got dark, he pulled me out onto the deck, and forced me to put my mouth on his dick. He pushed up and down on my head, his swelling hard-on bumping the back of my throat."
"Did you think of biting him, miss?"
"No! I was his slave by this time, and my only thoughts were how to please him so I wouldn't get hurt more. I kept bobbing my head, trying not to gag, when he began thrusting his hips up, crying 'I'm coming, I'm coming'. He held my head down and shot a hot load of semen in my mouth. He grabbed my hair in a knot and said 'swallow it, bitch.' I was too scared not to, and sucked and swallowed until no more came squirting out. Suddenly I was pushed aside. I'm afraid my poor mom had the wrong idea about what she saw and thought I was a consenting partner. She kicked me and pushed me. Frank got up and grabbed the shovel that was in the flower bed..."
"How did he get it, miss?"
"It was leaning against the railing, the blade stuck in the dirt. We'd been re-working the landscaping lately."
"I see. Go on."
"My mom went after him, and he pushed her against the wall. When she started to turn around, he swung the shovel...he swung...oh shit! He hit her in the head." Sally started crying again.
"That's okay, miss. How did you get out to the road?"
(sniff) "He turned to me and I got up screaming. I grabbed my ripped cheerleader uniform. Did I mention that mom had thrown it at me? No? Well she did that when she first came in. I ran into the street screaming and ran to Mrs. Gonsalez' house. She called the cops, and the rest you know."
"I think that will do for now, miss. I've seen your garage, your bedroom, and the rest of the crime scene. I like to examine all the evidence directly. Now, I know this sounds like an unusual request, but help me. Would it be possible for you to show me your bruises, while they're still fresh?"
"You mean now?" Sally was surprised. She knew she was telling whoppers, but was fairly confident that she was getting away with it. Could this detective wreck her story by looking at her marks? She didn't think so.
"Yes, please. It will greatly help my investigation. I'm sure you want as strong a case against Mr. Anderson as possible. Help me, please."
Sally nodded. She stood up and held her face to the sunlight in the window, letting the detective stand near her and inspect it. Her eye was swelled almost shut and the bruise her mother had made turned her cheek purple and swelled her nose. "Yes, that black eye looks real painful. It's about the right age, too. May I see your bruised ribs, please?"
"But I'm not wearing a bra," she protested.
"I'm a professional miss. I'm married and I have three girls your age. I've seen breasts before. I won't hurt you."
Sally nodded uncertainly and loosened the belt on her robe. She parted her robe, revealing in full her large right breast, her dark nipple hardening in the cool air. She pulled her arm out of the sleeve and raised it, exposing the bruised rib and giving the detective a clear view. He asked her to turn to the light. The sharp sunlight cast a shadow of her breast onto the floor behind her. The detective moved his face close, examining her ribs carefully. She could feel his body heat and smell his aftershave lotion. His tie dangled to brush the hand holding her robe closed. He lightly brushed the scrapes left by Nancy's booted foot, his hand seeming to linger on her warm young flesh.
"Yes, yes. That's totally consistent. I'm sorry if I'm embarassing you, miss, but this is essential. Sometimes people try to frame others and bruise themselves in advance, on purpose. I'm sure you're not doing that, but Mr. Anderson's defense attorney will be sure to raise the question. The report said your thigh was also bruised. May I see that, also?"
Sally let her robe go, leaning back and holding her bruised leg out for inspection. The robe flowed around her leg, off her free arm and hung from her other shoulder. Her pubic area was clearly exposed, the womanly swell of her hips accentuated by the curving folds of the robe. The detective knelt in front of her and examined the bruise. It was a violent purple swelling, like the other two, with no sign of the yellowing that marked older bruises.