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From: nestique <delecta@nym.alias.net>
Subject: Story: Sera Rapes Daddy (F/m, castration)
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	The following story is fictional.  It depicts 
violent castration, rape, and battery.  If you're under-age,
DO NOT READ IT.  If you might be offended, upset, or 
disgusted by reading about violent sexuality, please do 
not read it.



	Sera Rapes Daddy


	Mom looked at my Dad sorrowfully for a second -- for the 
first time in, oh, ten weeks, she wasn't beaming with 
excitement about leaving for Palermo -- then she patted his 
shiny bald head.  Some sweat came off on her hand, and she 
wiped it on his shoulder, saying,
	"Try to take care of yourself, honey."
	Her voice was soft, pleading, as if she was already 
a little wounded by some bad news she anticipated.
	"Sera," she turned to me, "Make sure nothing goes 
wrong.  I'm a little nervous about leaving these two..."
	By which she meant my Dad and my older brother, 
whose name is Todd, but whom I'll call Stupid.  
	"But I'm sure with you here," she continued, "Things'll
stay pretty much in order."
	And with that pledge of confidence, she stepped into 
the Taxi, closed the door, and sped off to the airport.  Then 
on to Europe, for twenty carefree days of compulsive, selfish 
spending, drunken indulgence, sensitive men with lean, muscle-
bound bodies, with tireless cocks, and maybe with adventurous 
girlfriends, who knows?
	After the taxi turned onto Rossmore and vanished, my 
father and Stupid stood there on the lawn, staring blankly.  
With Mom gone, they seemed sort of at a loss as to what to do.  
I observed their stupor with mild amusement for about three 
minutes.
	"Uh, Dad?  How about cooking up some dinner?"
	He looked toward the garage, as if not quite sure 
where my voice was coming from, then briefly made eye contact
with me. 
	"Sure, hon."
	"Sera."
	"What?"
	"I don't like to be called hon.  I've told you that 
before."
	"I'm sorry."
	"You'll be really sorry if you call me `hon' again."
	"I apologize."
	"I won't give you a chance to apologize next time, 
Dad.  Now shut up and cook my dinner."
	Daddy walked purposefully toward the kitchen door.  
I felt a little proud as I watched him walk.  He seemed to 
concentrate, and never stumbled on anything.  I turned and 
saw Stupid looking after him, his thumbs hooked in the 
pockets of his Dockers.
	"Hey, Stupid, why don't you go break something?  Like
maybe your arm?"
	Stupid got this tremulous glare, if it's possible for 
a glare to be tremulous.  If it's not, I'm sure you know 
what I mean: his face paled with anger, but he found it hard 
to meet my look.  He tried to conceal his fear of me, but 
courage is a highly transcendent trait for a guy like him, 
and his face kind of shivered.  I could feel him melting 
inside, hating every second of it.
	"Oh, yeah?"  He asked, which was a totally 
inappropriate response.  "You know, you don't get to be all 
ruly 'cause Mom's not around.  You're not her lieutenant."
	I took a step closer to my older brother -- three 
years older, to be precise -- and reached up to his face.  
I put my palm over his cheek.  Stupid was really lean, and 
I could feel his cheekbone under my skin.  I enjoyed staring 
at him because he was trying to appear strong, but his 
tension was totally delicious: I felt like I was drinking 
his heart through his eyes.  I scratched affectionately at 
his cheekbone with my long fingernails.  
	"Stupid, you're wrong.  Again.  And I'm not shocked.  
To tell you the truth, now that Mom's gone, I do make the 
rules around here."
	Stupid looked down, almost like he was going to 
cry.  
	"Why don't you go in back and play with the dog?"
	He didn't say anything, just kept staring at the 
ground.
	"I'll give you three seconds."
	He turned and almost ran to the backyard.  This saved 
me the trouble of having to humiliate him, and I was pretty 
disappointed, because I liked humilating him.
	I walked into the living room to watch TV until Dad 
served me dinner.  After a few minutes I smelled cream 
simmering on the stove, and I recognized it as the first 
phase of alfredo sauce.  It was one of my favorites.
	"Make just one serving, Daddy," I called out.  "You 
and Stupid will sit at the table and watch me eat."
	There was nothing decent on TV, so I told my Dad to 
order everything on Pay-Per-View, then walked into the 
backyard to see if Stupid was amusing Martha, our dog.  Now,
I loved Martha.  She was a three-year-old mutt with lots of 
Irish Setter, and a year ago I wished my hair was the same 
exact color as hers.  She ran incredibly fast, leapt 
unbelievably high into the air to get frisbees, and hardly 
ever ate anything.  I admired a lot of things about her, 
actually, so I was incredibly pissed off when people 
mistreated her.
	And that's exactly what Stupid was doing.  See, 
Stupid had these silly fits of anger.  All he was doing was 
venting his rage at me and Mom for being such ruly women, 
for making his life one hellish submission after another, 
but for us males are males.  Anyway, Stupid was standing 
there swatting Martha's rump, and I wasn't going to have 
any of it.
	"What the fuck are you doing?"  
	He froze, and was afraid to turn around.
	"I asked you a question."
	He was just standing there like a statue, his face 
turned down toward Martha, who looked up at me and started 
wagging her tail like mad, making her whole body sway.  When 
I got close to Stupid I saw that his eyes were closed.  
	"Open your eyes, Stupid."
	When he did, it only took about a second for his 
eyes to brim with tears, because I reached around him and 
sank my fingers into his groin.  He whined, "Ooooh, oooh," 
which I pretty much expected since I had him by the balls 
and gripped them like a vice.  
	"You know I don't like people messing with Martha."
	He nodded quickly, still whining.  I felt the shape 
of his big, round testicles and really dug into them.  I kind 
of felt like ripping them off and feeding them to our dog.
	"You shouldn't hurt animals 'cause they don't 
understand it, Stupid."
	He whined louder, trying to articulate some kind 
of apologetic agreement.
	"But people, even men, can understand things, so it's 
okay to hurt them.  Right?"
	Still locking them in my grip, I tugged his balls up 
and outward.  He nodded again, his face now drenched with 
tears.  
	"Okay.  I guess you understand."
	I let go of him, because to forgive is divine, or 
whatever.
	"Now drop your pants."
	He shot a glance in my direction: a sort of 
oh-god-what? look.  I interpreted this as confusion, so I 
slapped him across the face.  I liked feeling those cheekbones
in a variety of ways.
	"Drop your pants, as in...these!"  
	I grabbed his crotch again and jerked his package 
around a little.  His arms flailed: he wanted to obey me and 
strip, but he was afraid that if he put his hands too close 
to mine I'd think he was trying to repell me, and he didn't 
want me to think he was fighting, so he was sort of in a 
predicament.  I thought this was pretty advanced logic on his
part, so I released his manly treasures.  Dutifully, he 
unbuttoned his pants.  
	I liked seeing my older brother strip.  Stupid was 
really pretty attractive to me.  At eighteen, he was fully 
grown; his penis was thick and pretty long, even flaccid, and 
his balls were large and pretty.  Nice, smooth orbs held 
comfy and tight in the white briefs me and Mom made him 
wear.  But not Dad, incidentally; Dad wasn't as well-hung as 
Stupid, so we made him do without underwear; we wanted him 
to see his puny genitalia as often and as nakedly as possible 
to remind him of his limited physical dimensions.
	"Now the briefs."
	He was quivering again.  His back was stooped a 
little, so I could tell his balls were still aching, and I 
knew he wouldn't resist.  He pulled down his briefs, then 
stood more or less upright.
	"Martha!  C'mere, pup!"
	Martha was already really close to me, but I wanted 
her muzzle to be right in front of Stupid's cock.  When she 
was close enough, I grabbed her by the collar and guided her 
within inches of Stupid's body.  Then I took Stupid's long, 
limp cock in my hand and swatted her muzzle with it.  She 
snapped her head back, surprised, then I did it again.  And 
again.  I poked at her eye with my brother's cock -- he was 
sort of silently freaking out about all this, because I had 
never done it before -- then I tried to spear her ear with 
his meat-stick.  Finally she'd had enough, and she snapped 
at his dick.  Stupid cried out.  His dick was bleeding a 
little, and I think Martha liked the taste of it, because 
when I swung his dick at her again and missed, she bit him 
harder and held on.  Finally all hell broke loose, and I had 
to pull her off him.  
	"Stupid, I think she forgives you now."
	His underwear stained red instantly when I told him 
he could get dressed for my dinner.
	It was a pretty good dinner.  Dad made me fettucine 
alfredo, baby lettuce salad, and bread pudding.  I didn't let 
the boys eat anything 'cause they'd been such dicks lately, 
but I enjoyed sharing my pleasure with them, meaning I let 
them watch me enjoy myself.  
	"So, Dad," I said after I finished dessert, "I thought
you should know, Stupid is a real dick."
	Dad nodded thoughtfully, as if he could possibly come 
up with a solution to this problem.
	"He was beating Martha, and Martha's my favorite dog 
in the whole world."
	Dad looked scornfully at Stupid, who sat with 
his hands clasped between his legs, his face turned down with 
shame.
	"You know, it's really time for Stupid to grow up.  
Start being a man."
	"Well," Dad started to say.
	"Shut up, Dad, I didn't approve of you talking.  
Anyway, I've been giving it some thought, and I think I know
how we can make a man out of your son."
	I looked over at Stupid to see what sort of reaction 
he had.  He was looking embarrassed and, as usual, a little 
rude.
	"Hint: it has something to do with sex."
	Dad turned away and wiped his forehead.  I could tell 
Stupid wanted to shake his head and sigh, or something like 
that, but he was afraid to piss me off.  
	"Boys," I said, standing up with a flourish, kicking 
the chair onto the floor behind me, "Go into my bedroom and 
strip."
	Obediently, both of them walked into my bedroom.  Now,
I would've followed them right away, but to tell you the 
truth I was a little afraid of them.  I realized that if I 
pissed them off enough without properly debilitating them, 
they could turn on me and do some kind of treachery.  So I 
waited for them to walk into my bedroom, then I went into the 
kitchen and took a small iron frying pan from the drawer 
under the stove.
	"Is everyone naked?"  I called out from the hall, 
staying away from the doorway so that they couldn't see me.
	"Yes, Sera."  Dad said, obediently.
	"Stupid?"
	"Yeah..." 
	"Okay, turn facing my North window, and close your 
eyes."
	Now, I suppose they could've just stood on either 
side of the doorway and jumped me, but they didn't have the
balls.  They obeyed my instructions perfectly.  Seeing them 
standing in formation, their asses bare and waiting, I walked 
up behind them, and smashed Dad on the head with the frying 
pan.  A loud, musical note rang out and Dad fell to his knees,
dazed.  Without missing a beat, I turned the frying pan 
sideways and slammed it up between my brother's legs.  I 
felt it slam hard against his pelvis, and he screamed, 
collapsing, clutching at himself and blabbering insanely.  
	"Stupid, if you don't shut your mouth, I'm going to 
get pissed off and do something extreme."
	It wasn't any good trying to appeal to reason in 
situations like that; Stupid was unteachable.  I banged Dad's 
head again to make sure he was dizzy and defenseless, then I 
walked to my dresser.  I stripped off my skirt really quickly,
then I opened the top drawer, put the pan down, and took out
a ten-inch strap-on dildo.  It was a good one: very firm, very
thick, and covered with high ridges and bumps.  The first time
I saw it I thought the ridges were letters, some sort of 
phallic cursive, forming words along the side of the 
artificial cock.  But the ridges didn't mean anything, they
were just supposed to make it look life-like, even though it
was completely black, unlike any cocks I've ever seen (even 
the cocks of black men aren't this black).  Anyway, I strapped 
on the dildo nice and snug, picked up the frying pan, then 
proceeded to kneel behind my older brother.
	"Get into position, Stupid."	
	Stupid knew the position, and he knew the feeling of 
his little sister fucking him up the ass.  Believe me, given 
the choice between going dickless by a hairy dog and having 
a woman take him from behind, he'd go with the chick-rape.  It
was the kinder, gentler punishment, you could say.  But you 
wouldn't know it if you could hear his braying and weeping 
that night: I drove into him as hard as I could, laying the 
pan on his back (when I wasn't swatting at our Dad's limp 
body with it) so that I could reach around and clutch his 
sweating balls, dig into his scrotum with my nails, jerk them 
around until he must've felt like the little cords would snap,
et cetera.  I was just letting him know that having balls was 
a terrible weakness.  A sort of an Achilles heel.  A permanent,
but not necessarily so permanent, tear in his self-sufficiency
and strength.  I mean, wasn't God thinking about Darwin and 
evolution back when he designed men?  Men are daft, dullardly 
and hyper- aggressive, really in offensive ways.  It's only a 
matter of time before women freeze all the semen they could 
possibly need from decent men, then just raise their own kids 
minus the ball-bearing freak-out gorillas.  Men could all be 
exterminated at birth, except for a few breeders who could be 
raised in special prisons somewhere until they pumped out 
enough semen to keep the race going.  But of course, then we 
ladies wouldn't get the fun of dominating men.  Sex relations 
are amusing, at least for a while, and I guess all women 
deserve a man to knock around for personal pleasure.
	Anyway, back to earth: I was impaling my brother with 
a dildo that made his nature-cock, and probably almost any 
real cock, worthy of scornful rejection.  Worthy of spitting 
on.
	"Deeper, deeper," I urged myself on like a cheerleader,
"Oh, harder, Sera, harder."  
	I challenged myself to let him know who wore the pants
when Mom wasn't around.  I made a full-blown pussy out of my 
brother.  At one point I let go of his balls and lifted up 
my hand, and I could see blood from his rectum dripping down 
my fingers.  
	"Okay, Stupid, your turn's over."  
	I pulled out of him, and he crumpled up into a tender, 
weeping mass on the floor of my bedroom.
	"Dad?"  I called out, poking his face with the 
strap-on.  "You awake?"
	Dad sort of groaned and wriggled.  
	"Stupid, turn your father flat on his stomach."
	Stupid obeyed, his face all puffy with tears, all red 
and blurry-looking.  
	"Now hold his hands down."
	Stupid pressed Dad's hands down on my hardwood floor. 
I lay on top of Dad, and drove the bloody dildo into his ass.
It was a nice feeling; I dunno, there was something primal and
natural about pelvically thrusting into him even without me 
being a guy.  I liked slamming against his tight ass, it felt 
really good; it felt like total power, having him, owning him 
where he hurt, embracing his weakness, mushing up his natural 
design, entering him with trumpets and red carpets where no 
one was supposed to enter.
	All this sensual attention made Dad pretty alert all 
of a sudden, and he started crying and pleading.  I had to 
smack the back of his head with my fists, but even that didn't
quite stifle his moronic outbursts.  I thought about crushing 
his head with the frying pan again, but I was a little worried
about how much he could take before he sustained serious 
injuries.  Men don't know when to stop, you know?  And I 
wanted him to remain conscious while I tore down his ego and 
mauled his body.  
	"Stupid, stuff your balls into his mouth."
	Stupid gave me a look of what was probably homoerotic
bliss, just disguised really well as horror, so I gave him a 
quick jab in the throat, a smack across the nose, and caught 
his balls in my hand.  Squeezed them.  Hard.  I don't like 
faggots. 
	"No, no, ooooooh..."
	Stupid had a way with words.  I pulled Dad's face up 
a little by the ears, because he had no hair, and Stupid sort 
of gingerly set his balls in Dad's mouth.  They were 
interacting with each other sort of apologetically, like they
were saying to each other, I really don't want to be doing 
this, but since we have no choice since the girl rules, we'll 
go along with it and hope she lets up soon.
	Well, we'll just have to see about that, I thought to 
myself.
	Anyway, I kept rocking away at my Dad's tight ass, 
drilling his fuck-hole hard, and Stupid's nuts occupied his 
mouth, muting him pretty well.  It was a good arrangement, 
me fucking the boys like that, and I told them they should 
print a little image of that love-scene in their minds 
forever, so that they'd always remember how I could have my 
way with them anytime I wanted.  "Get a nice, clear photo of 
this in your stupid heads," I think I said.
	Anyway, I didn't think anything unexpected would 
happen, but I got a little bored after a while and I thought 
I might like to make sure Dad didn't have any more kids since 
Stupid hadn't turned out very well, and I didn't want to risk 
another colossal human failure contaminating our race.  So I 
lifted my weight off Dad's ass a little, not removing the 
dildo entirely, but just rising up a bit, and then I reached 
underneath, found my Dad's balls, and put all my earthly 
strength into trying to tear them off.  
	I tugged at his nuts really abruptly, see, and it 
totally took him off guard or something, because, well, he 
suddenly bit down on Stupid's testicles.  Which promptly came 
off in his mouth.  So Stupid lost his head (after losing his
manhood), went berserk, and I had to whack him with the pan 
until he was unconscious.  It was a bloody mess, and the 
whole scene was just so crazy that by the time Stupid 
simmered down and lay there unconscious, I was really fucking 
pissed off at Dad for rudely interfering with my plan, so 
then I got a knife from the kitchen and finished the job I 
had attempted with my bare hands.  I just didn't want to 
exert myself at that point with a lot of wild tugging; I just 
wanted to punish him and make him calm down, so I neutered 
him with a serrated bread knife.  
	Now I make him use that knife just about whenever he 
cooks for me, just to remind him.  I made them both 
collaborate on dinner, the main course being their nuts, 
chopped up into little pieces and served to me with curry 
sauce.
	Anyway, Dad and Stupid are pretty well-behaved now.  
They like being eunuchs, to tell you the truth, and they love 
serving me and Mom.  Mom wasn't very upset when she came 
home to find the house devoid of men, because she had met a 
few guys she liked in Italy, and she had been completely 
bored with Dad.  What's a married woman to do?  
	My point in telling you all this is simple: You're a 
woman, right?  Then teach the men in your life to respect 
you!  Don't take their crap, 'cause you know, they are 
fucking weak, and what makes them weakest is that they do not 
know how weak they really are.  If a guy mouths off to you, 
knee him in the balls.  If your boyfriend or husband starts 
to get on your nerves and regular ball-crushing isn't getting 
the results you want, consider castrating him.  Remember: men 
are better when you cut their balls off.  Seriously.  
	


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