Brandy didn't know how long she cried that night. It might have been only a short time or it might have been hours. Eyes red and cunt aching, she wanted to die. She knew one thing only: her father had raped her.
The girl realized the signs of it had been all around her. He was overly protective. None of her friends' fathers were like him. None of them followed their kids out on dates. None of them burst into parties and dragged their daughters out because they didn't like what they saw. None of them ran dates off because they considered them fags.
Lately, the signs had been even more obvious, if she had cared to look. He had been eyeing her and it wasn't like a father should look at a daughter. He had been lusting after her, and it hadn't been only in his bean.
"Why me?" she sobbed, knowing that the deed was done. She had been incestuously raped and there wasn't a Goddamn thing she could do about it. Ideas of running to her friends quickly went away. She would be the laughing stock of the school if she ever told anyone about this and it got out. They would all point at her and snicker and think she was somehow inferior to them.
Brandy knew she couldn't stand that.
Being raped by her daddy was bad, but having her friends shun her as some sort of social outcast because of it was even worse. She would have to hear the shame in solitude. She couldn't share her burden with anyone.
The girl jumped a foot when she heard the faint creak of her bedroom door. "Who's there?" she called out, fearful – that it was her father returning to rape her another time. She would kill herself first, she vowed. Anything but allowing him to fuck her again.
"It's me, Brandy. Can I come in?"
"I guess so, Mom," the girl said, her voice trembling. She didn't want to see her mother, especially now of all times.
"I know what happened," the woman said immediately, as she sat on the edge of the bed.
"I didn't make him do it!" the girl sobbed. "I didn't entice him or anything. It wasn't my fault, honest!"
"I believe you, dear," the woman said, putting her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "It's been coming for some time. Your daddy drinks too much and it finally caught up with him. Try to forgive him, if you can. He's not really in control."
"Why did he have to rape me?"
"I think that's fairly obvious. You look a great deal like I did when I was younger. Your father sees this and perhaps it makes him think he's able to regain some of his lost youth. Being middle-aged can be a real drag at times, even more so for your father. He used to be an athlete, you know."
The blonde teenager could only nod her head. She couldn't possibly not know about her father's athletic trophies. They littered the house. Somehow, the girl could never quite see that potbellied man winning any kind of competition, unless it had something to do with drinking.
"He feels life slipping away from him. That makes him overly protective of you. He doesn't want to admit you're growing up, that you're a woman now. That would only make him feel older."
"He didn't have to rape me."
"No, but he's not the same man he used to be. He's groping for something he doesn't understand. He can never return to the way it was in the old days, but he refused to accept that. So he saw you tonight and something snapped inside."
"He was drunk."
"He was," the woman admitted, "but there's more to it than that. I don't think you're going to be safe around here any longer, Brandy. Not until Daddy gets some professional help."
"For his drinking?"
"That and other things. He… he hasn't been able to make love to me in months. I thought it was the drinking, but now I'm not so sure. Not when he can rape his very own daughter." The woman's voice carried a bitter edge to it now. "He's a sick man and you're not safe here, not now. That's why I want you to go stay with James."
"James? But he's so into that religious cult thing. I don't think I could stand him."
"I know, but he's such a fine boy. I'm not asking you to believe all those weird things James does. Just go and stay with him and play along – for a while. Until Daddy gets better."
Brandy had to think about it. She hadn't seen her older brother in almost five years. He was close to thirty and had always seemed more like a friend to her than an older brother. When he was twenty be got involved with same religious group. By the time he was twenty-two, he had been the leader. For the last eight years, he and his small band lived in a large house, secluded from the worldly rat-race and following an existence that Brandy wasn't sure she could accept.
Exile with her brother James or the threat of continual rape from her father. The options didn't appear too good to her.
Finally, she choked out, "I… I'll go stay with James. If he'll have me."
"He will, dear. I called and talked to him. While he wasn't exactly overjoyed, he is your brother and he seems to understand the problems around here. He said as long as you followed the simple rules of his religious sect, all would be fine and that you could stay for as long as you wanted."
Brandy nodded her head, wondering what she was getting involved in.
Brandy shivered as the cold wind whipped around her ripe, lush body. She stood, suitcase at her feet, staring at the imposing mansion of her brother and his Children of the Earth sect owned. The teenager hardly recognized James as he came from the front doors to greet her.
"My child, welcome, to peace and harmony." James was dressed in a coarse wool robe that looked like something out of the Middle Ages. He had he waist pulled in and tied with a double loop of chain, a small lock holding the chain fastened in he front. His hair had turned a little gray at the temples and his face seemed unfamiliar.
"James?" she said in a weak voice. "How are you?"
"I am at peace, Brandy." The name seemed to be like acid on his tongue. He almost spat it out. "Thanks for taking me in like this. You know how it is with Daddy, I guess. Did Mom tell you?" She heard herself babbling. The sight of her brother shook her a little. He seemed to be so saintly. It was as if the very idea of sin never touched his mind, much less his body. Brandy had never been around a true holy man before. After their minister had been convicted of molesting small children, she'd stopped going to church.
"I know all," he said. He looked as if he belonged in some cathedral to make all his statements. "And you have agreed to abide by the rules of the sect as long as you are here. You must be purified before being allowed to mingle with the others."
"Purified?" the girl asked. Thoughts of bathing went through her mind. A nice long hot bath would relax her. "Sure, any time."
His eyebrows rose slightly and he smiled for the first time. "This way then, dear sister."
She waited for him to offer to take her suitcase, when he didn't she hefted it herself and went through the big doors of the mansion. The girl had expected to see a sumptuous interior. This had been a ritzy house once. She was a little disappointed to find the inside as barren as the outside. Austere, she guessed was the proper word.
"In there. The purification ceremony will begin immediately!"
She dropped her bag and went through the door James had indicated. The girl stopped dead in her tracks. It looked more like a torture chamber than any religious place she had ever heard of. Whips in racks lined the walls. A brazier burned in the center of the room, branding irons in the coals glowing red hot. A set of stocks dominated the altar, behind which was a crucifix. The crucifix was the only indication this was a church and not something out of the Spanish Inquisition.
"James? What…?"
She had no chance to say anything further. Hands grabbed her and dragged her to the altar.
"What the hell's going on?" she screamed, when she regained her breath. Busy hands worked at her clothing, fumbling, pulling, unbuttoning. She felt her jeans sliding down her trim slender legs. Trying to keep her legs spread wide apart so they couldn't undress her, she twisted to face her brother.
The man stood impassively in the center of the room. The look on his face was one of mild displeasure.
"You said you would undergo the purification ceremony. To stay here, you must!"
"Well, fuck you, James! I'm not going to do any such thing if you have to strip me bare-ass naked!"
"Do so," he said, his voice cold and commanding.
The girl's legs were forced together long enough for the unseen hands to rip her jeans off. She heard the metallic click of scissors, behind and felt the coldness of the blades pressing into her back. Someone snipped up the back of her thin teeshirt and pulled it from her body. She was left clad only in her skimpy panties and thin bra.
Those went next.
The bra strap was cut, and she felt her firm lush tits swaying freely. Cool hands caressed them briefly, almost accidentally, as she was forced forward into the stocks. Her neck and hands were placed in the half-circles. The top piece was lowered and she was firmly imprisoned.
"What's going on?" she screamed. "Why are you doing this to me? James, what's happening?"
He stood like a statue watching her. She felt chills go up and down her spine that had nothing to do with the coldness of the room. She was truly frightened now. She had never really known her brother – this was a complete stranger to her. His face was pinched and white and he looked mote like a saint than a human being.
Brandy knew for a fact that no human being would ever inflict the kind of humiliation on her that was now being so freely bestowed.
"Remove those Satanic garments," James commanded.
The teenager felt cold fingers working under the waist band of her panties. The hands stroked over the smooth curves of her asscheeks, dipping briefly into the humid crack between them. Then the silk panties were falling to the floor around her ankles.
She was totally naked and at the mercy of her unseen attackers.
"Begin the ceremony of purification," her brother said. He sounded like a recording on a telephone answering device.
"For God's sake, James, what is going on?" she demanded. And then the blonde teenager felt the whip land on her back. She screamed. The pain was almost more than she could bear. The shock probably did as much to make it painful as anything. She hadn't been expecting this kind of treatment.
Craning her neck, she tried to turn her head enough to see what was happening behind her. The wood stock prevented it. She felt the whip land again, the sting less this time. She knew what was happening, but she was helpless to prevent it.
"James!" she pleaded. "Don't let them whip me like this!"
"Fifty lashes to begin the purification," he said. She looked at him in astonishment. This was the purification he had spoken of! What amazed her even more was the sight of the man's robe. The front tented up at his crotch. The girl simply couldn't believe that he was getting a boner watching the others whip her.
And yet that was exactly the way it appeared to her.
She moaned and cried out every time the whip landed on her back. When she had counted to fifty, they released her. The girl collapsed to the floor, weaker than she'd thought possible. But her ordeal wasn't over yet. Her brother came over, gripped her wrists and looped a thin chain around them. He secured it with a small device similar to the lock on the chain around his waist.
He cast her out onto the cold stone floor so that she was on hands and knees. Her nakedness bothered her. The cold was bad but she felt vulnerable, helpless, totally at the mercy of these people.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked, fearing the answer. With her hands securely chained as they were, she could do little to prevent any kind of abuse they wanted to heap on her.
Brandy was truly in a dilemma. She could leave here – but she would have to return to her father. He might rape her at any time. But was it any better being whipped like a dog? The young girl simply didn't know.
"I must chase out the demons in your body. To do this, I use a switch taken from the sacred hawthorn tree." Her brother was handed a three-foot-long, thin rod of wood. He advanced on her. She tried to scuttle away on hands and knees. This seemed to be what he wanted.
He landed his first blow on her ass. The wood switch smarted as it landed, leaving an ugly red welt. She yelped and this slowed her down. He turned the switch sideways then and landed a blow directly along her cuntlips. The suddenness of the pain exploded in her brain. She thought she would pass out.
He continued lashing out at her, every blow landing squarely on her puffy cuntlips. She moaned and struggled to get away. Wherever she turned, he was there to punish her with the wood switch. He continued to land blow after blow on her naked, tender flesh until she was sure he was going to beat her to death.
Slowly, the teenager realized that even though she was in pain, he wasn't inflicting any permanent damage on her. He was methodically whipping her with the stick but only welts were being raised. He didn't even break the skin, in a way that made the pain worse. She felt knives of agony jabbing up into her cunt.
The girl was surprised to find her cunt beginning to water as if in anticipation of a long, hard cock. She couldn't explain it. Perhaps it was only her body's way of trying to protect itself. But she doubted that.
She realized that she was breathing faster, her pulse pounding, her body demanding more and more attention from her brother's whip. Her cunt was livid with welts now and her asscheeks were criss-crossed with red lines. When she collapsed onto her face, he stuck his foot under her belly and rolled her over. She put up her chained hands to protect her face, but it wasn't her perfectly formed face he wanted to lash out at now.
The length of stick landed squarely on both of her tits at the same time. She screamed. He continued to whip her lovely, snow-white tits. He managed to find the nipples time and time again. His aim was fantastically good. He tormented and teased those nipples into full, pulsing, throbbing, painful erection. They pointed like ugly red fingers directly at the ornate, frescoed ceiling of the grim torture room.
"The Devil's work!" he screamed as he lashed out repeatedly at her. "The Devil is being driven out now. I see it, I feel it!"
Her tits felt as if they would explode. The blood pounding into them made the pain even worse. The girl was about to go out of her head. She tried to protect her tender tits from his whipping with her chained hands, but he moved down her belly to her cunt.
The feel of that hawthorn switch against her cuntlips again told her that she was better able to stand the pain if he whipped her tits. She cried and moaned in pain. Words wouldn't form in her throat.
As suddenly as the attack had started, so it stopped. She looked up, afraid of what she would see. Her brother's face was flushed and he was sweating profusely. She also saw the silver-dollar-sized damp spot on the front of his plain wool robe, right at the crotch.
"She is purified and may stay with us. See to her needs," he said, dropping the wooden rod and walking out, his robes swirling around his thin body.
Brandy felt cool hands, the same cool hands responsible for stripping her, lift her up and carry her away. She was in too much pain to ask where they were taking her. As long as the whipping had stopped, that was good enough for her.