This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.


Sara and little Nicole go to Rape Therapy

by Georgie Porgie

9 March 2017

(FM+/g10g7 pedo nude bond humil spank brutal tort implied-rape)


BR&T date: Tuesday, 5 March 1996

"She's here!" Mommy Nicole called to her daughter, little Nicole. "Oooh, that's her father with her, I think. I wish he was single. Oh well. Nicole, come out and meet your new friend."

Outside, Sara and her father approached the house, but didn't get a chance to knock on the door before it flew open. "Come on in!" the lady of the house urged. "We only have a few minutes to talk before it's time for them to get ready to go to therapy together, as arranged. The counselor sent both outfits here since he knew they'd be getting ready here."

Little Nicole entered the room hesitantly. The moment she saw Sara, and Sara saw her, the girls realised they'd already met, though under worse circumstances. They'd both been on the stage at the assembly at the end of Sara's first week at Bunnytail, even sitting side by side, but since neither of them had mentioned it, they hadn't realised it while writing their first letters.

Little Nicole took Sara to her bedroom, leaving the adults to chat. Sara noticed the large window facing the wide street, and little Nicole's bed in the middle of the room where she was easily visible from the street unless the drapes were closed, which they weren't. They made a quick tour of the bedroom, during which little Nicole whispered, "Remember, don't act like you're afraid to go, or he'll find out and I'll really get it for telling you. Please pretend you want to go, please!"

"I might as well, since Daddy would make me go anyway. At least Mary Claire won't be there. It'll just be us," Sara whispered back, "so how bad could it be?"

"Didn't you read my letter?" little Nicole replied.


"Time to go, girls!" Mommy Nicole called loudly a few minutes later. She picked up two small packages and handed one to Sara's father. "We're not supposed to open them until time to put them on, then we have to follow the instructions to the last detail," she said. "No matter what the details are," she added. "He knows what he's doing, he has a degree and everything, so I'm sure it's important to get it just right." She tore open the package and took out a pink leather strap with metal rings and buckles. "Oh my! How pretty!" she exclaimed. "Look what you get to wear!" she said, holding it out to the girls.

"It says the first step is to go out to the street," Jim Carson read from the instructions in his package. "Out here, Sara," he commanded, leading the way out the front door, with Sara and the two Nicoles following. "Let's get this done fast. I have to get back to work. I was only given enough time off to pick her up at school and get her ready for this," he explained to Mommy Nicole. He glanced at a diagram in the instructions. Then he smiled.

(spiked collar) Out at the sidewalk, the parents first put the large pink leather straps around each girl's neck, as pink collars. Little Nicole winced as her mother placed the collar on her, but didn't speak. "Oww!" Sara protested. "Owww, it hurts! Daaaddy! Stop, it hurrrts!" Her father unbuckled the collar from her neck and examined it. Sara saw numerous sharp little tacks sticking out of it, but inward, against her neck. "There!" she pointed. "That's what hurt."

He reread the directions. "Be sure to turn the collar so the two rings are at the back and the two hooks are at the front, and be sure the collar is on good and tight." He shrugged. "I can't turn it inside-out, or the rings would be inside-out. Anyway, since the position matters, I'm sure that's just to make sure it doesn't move," he said. He put it back on her, turned the right direction, and buckled it down as tight as before, ignoring her wincing and whimpering.

The next step in the directions required the girls to take off their dresses. "I thought she was supposed to go there in a nice pretty dress the first time, according to the letter, so I picked out the prettiest one she had." Mommy Nicole shrugged. "Whatever. Get your dress off, like it says, dear. Arms up high, now."

As little Nicole held her arms raised, her mother yanked the pretty summer dress up, past her neck, and off of her. Little Nicole stood by the street in her panties, socks, and shoes, waiting nervously. She wasn't surprised that the neighbor across the street had come out of his house to watch.

Meanwhile, Sara stood uncooperative. "But people will see me like that on the way there!" she protested. Sara saw half a dozen boys on the next block, all looking their way. She thought there had only been four a minute ago.

"Oh, don't be silly, Sara. No one's going to see you like that," Jim said. "Get your dress off, like it says, or I'll have to take it off you myself and spank you. You said you wanted to go, didn't you?"

"Sara!?" little Nicole anxiously called out.

(Sara's and little Nicole's panties) "Yes, I want to go," Sara answered sullenly. Submissively, but very reluctantly, she removed her dress, and stood there topless, covering her titties with her hands. As it turned out, both girls had worn pretty pink panties that day, accidentally matching, even to the small white lace around the waist. Even their white socks almost matched, though Sara wore shiny white school shoes to little Nicole's casual after-school play shoes.

Looking at the two girls standing there in their matching panties, in a matching pose with their hands over their titties, even similar brown hair (but little Nicole's in two pigtails), Mommy Nicole laughed. "You two could pass for sisters! What a picture this would make!" Both girls blushed in embarassment, neither one wanting her or anyone else to take a picture of them like that. She waved to the friendly neighbor across the street, and mimed using a camera. He ran inside in a big hurry. Then she pulled two loops of cord from the package and held them up, confused.

(knot) "Here, let me show you what to do with these things," Jim offered, holding up two loops of pink cord like the ones in the other package. He folded one loop of cord around itself to make a double loop on one end and a single loop on the other. 'A cock and balls knot,' he mused. As Mommy Nicole watched and learned, he put the double loop over Sara's right hand and pulled it tight around her wrist, then pushed the attached single loop through a ring on the back of her collar. He pulled it around until he could hook it over a small hook on the front of her collar. The cord was the exact length to force her wrist up snugly against the back of her neck and keep her arm bent tightly.

Sara moved her left arm to try to cover both titties. The sharp points inside the collar quickly taught her not to pull on it with her right arm. She came within an instant of protesting when her father wrapped the second cord around her left wrist, but submissively let him pull her left arm up and secure her wrist to the back of her neck like before. She couldn't cover her bare chest at all, now. She watched, offering sympathy with her eyes only, as the two parents tied little Nicole's wrists to match, until the slender seven-year-old's elbows pointed out like the ends of a T.

Jim noticed that the cords for little Nicole held her wrists to the back of her neck just as tightly as Sara's. Fitting one girl perfectly could be a coincidence, but fitting both girls perfectly had to be intentional. The cords must have been measured to fit their wrists with just enough remaining to precisely reach the hooks at the front of the collars. He wondered how anyone knew Sara's neck and wrist size, and the other girl's neck and wrist size, so accurately. Whoever it was, he'd used the information to bind the girls' wrists to the backs of their necks using collars with sharp tacks on the inside. He smiled to himself. Someone who was very familiar with Sara's body only cared about her comfort enough to deliberately prevent it. And she'd be seeing him soon.

Checking the instructions, they made the girls kick off their shoes, then push their socks down and step on the ends and pull back to take them off. The barefoot girls wore only their panties, out by the street, unless they counted the painful collars and cords they would have loved to take off.

"Can we go now?" Sara pleaded.

"Yes, please, can we go?" little Nicole echoed impatiently. The neighbor across the street had returned and stood by his mailbox, looking her way, with a camera she'd seen many times before, and much closer.

"I'm glad you're eager to go," Jim smiled, "but there are two more steps left before we're done." He turned to Mommy Nicole and showed her the second-to-last step, illustrated by a simple diagram. She nodded and knelt by little Nicole. He leaned over by his own daughter. Together, the two parents pushed down a couple pairs of panties until they dropped around two surprised girls' ankles.

When Sara quickly turned her left side to the man across the street, the boys on the next block cheered, she saw and heard. Weren't there only six boys a minute ago? Now there were at least nine, and she stood facing them all, unless she turned to give the neighbor yet another view of her to save for the record.

"Lastly, there's a card in each package," Jim read. "We're supposed to take them out of the envelopes and hold them up so the girls can read them and memorise them, but parents aren't supposed to read them, just throw them away with the rest of the packaging. Found yours? Good. Here, Sara, read and memorise this." He held a small card up in front of Sara's face, as little Nicole's mother held out a different card.


If anyone asks where you're going,
or who you are, tell them:

"My name is Sara Jessica Carson.
I'm ten years old.
I'm going to get raped."

If you don't, you'll really regret it.

"Got it yet?" Jim waited until Sara nodded, then he wadded up the card and put it with the box to be discarded. "Alright, off you go. She knows the way, Sara, so just keep up with her." He waved his hand to indicate the direction they had to go.

Straight toward a dozen boys waiting for them on the next block.

"Would you like to come in awhile?" Mommy Nicole invited, but as usual, the male company she wanted had other things he'd rather do, even if it was just work for a lumber mill.

The girls began walking down the street together, naked except for the pink collars with the spikes on the inside, and their panties around their ankles that only served to keep them from walking very fast to avoid losing them. They couldn't cover anything, with their wrists tied tightly to the backs of their necks. By the time they reached the end of the block, to the first of four intersections they would have to cross, both girls' faces had streaks from tears they couldn't hold back. They had to keep walking, across the street in view of all the traffic, toward the boys gathered there.

The boys waited. The girls, slowly walking with their pretty pink panties around their ankles, and the pretty pink collars around their necks, and the pretty pink cords around their wrists, approached. Once they were close enough, every single boy asked, "Hey! Where are you going?" The crying girls had to tell each of them her name and age and answer to each of them "I'm going to get raped."

Then past the boys, and on, and on, to the 'counselor' and his 'rape therapy' where they knew they were going to get raped. They cried all the way there, down four long blocks, then they got raped (but that's another story) and cried even harder all the way home. Little Nicole had to pretend it was fun and she wanted to go back, and Sara had to pretend to agree, to keep from getting her new friend in trouble.


In his office back at the mill, Jim pulled a small crumpled white card out of his pocket and read it. Just what he'd expected. He folded it neatly and put it back in his pocket. Oh how he wished he could watch.


BR&T date: Tuesday, 12 March 1996

Sara and little Nicole, wearing the awful spiked pink collars with cords tying their wrists to the backs of their necks, walked down the street, very slowly and carefully to avoid losing their panties loosely fallen around their ankles. An even larger crowd of boys gathered than the previous week, and followed along with the girls, grinning. Little Nicole blinked away her tears as best she could and, without turning her head, asked Sara, "Why aren't they asking us where we're going?"

"They all already know we're going to get raped," Sara answered, also unable to wipe the tears from her face, also unable to turn her head because of the sharp tacks in the collars. "And when we finally get to go back to your home, they'll all already know we just got raped."

Boys who overheard her snickered and repeated it to boys who had missed it.

On the way back, two hours later, an excited crowd of boys followed along with the two girls, teasing, "You just got raped, didn't you?" and "Hey Sara! Did you just get raped? Come on, Sara, you can tell me!" and "How deep did ya get it, huh Sara? Did ya get raped all the way up? Bet ya both did!" and "I bet it was fun, wasn't it? Come on, was it fun? Tell us!"

No one driving by on the street stopped to see why two girls in pink collars and nothing else above the ankles would be walking down the street, bawling, let alone with a throng of cheerful boys following them. Sara and little Nicole walked home as fast as they could without losing their panties. They did their best to ignore the boys, but the teasing never let up until they crossed the last street. "We'll see you next week!" a boy called to them.


BR&T date: Tuesday, 19 March 1996

Sara's father tightened down the pink collar with the cruel tacks poking into her neck and throat, then fastened her wrists to the back of her neck as he'd done the two previous weeks. She didn't bother to protest. She'd learned that saying she wanted to go, and meekly letting him 'get her ready' to go, was the only way to avoid two extra spankings. Protesting, or saying she wanted to skip it, even saying she was sick (with nothing to prove it), would get her swatted, and wouldn't get her out of going in any case, and then the so-called counselor, or his friends, would spank her even worse.

As her panties quickly slid down to her ankles, Sara wondered if her father knew what they did to her every week at the 'rape therapy' things, and wanted it to happen to her. No, no, it was impossible! She had to believe he couldn't know, couldn't want all those awful things to happen to her. Surely if he knew, he wouldn't keep making her go. He would stop it, he would save her. But if she tried to tell him, he wouldn't believe her, and the men would punish her ten times worse for saying anything to him but what they demanded she tell him.

"You want to go, right? It's going to be fun today, isn't it, Sara?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy," she answered as she knew she had to, even though it couldn't be more untrue. "It's going to be fun, and I always want to go."

"You're in for a real treat this time, then, both of you!" he told her. "Today you're going to have a special session. You get to stay six hours, not just two. And we don't have to pay any extra, which is great. Off you go, now!"

Sara tried desperately to keep from crying. Crying about going was just as bad as saying she didn't want to go, and would get her spanked just as bad. Her daddy was sending her to get raped for six hours, but she knew he didn't know. He couldn't! She put on her best fake smile. "That's great, Daddy. I'm sure I'll have fun." Still, he had just stripped her almost naked out by the street, tied her by her wrists, and put on a collar he must know hurt her. No, he was just following the written instructions, she told herself, like a good father would.

She clung to the belief he didn't know what they were going to do to her. She clung to her hope that he would figure it out on his own without her doing anything she would be blamed for. Like not sounding enthusiastic enough, she thought. "I really want to go," she repeated. "I know it'll be fun." Was that good enough, she wondered? If he mentioned to anyone that she was even a little reluctant to go, word would get back to the counselor and he'd make her regret it. She had to be more convincing, just to be sure. "I know it'll be lots of fun!!" she cheered, just before a very short sob slipped out. She quickly turned away from him to hide her watering eyes, then she looked up right into the camera the man across the street had aimed at her. She turned toward the boys waiting for them on the next block. They'd get to see her no matter what she did.

"How about coming in for some coffee?" Mommy Nicole pleaded to Jim, after the two helpless girls, naked from their necks to their ankles, started slowly walking down the sidewalk. "Or tea? Or-"

"I guess I have time for a cup of coffee," Jim interrupted her. "Then I really have to get back to work." The parents entered the house, and had some coffee.


The crowd of boys waiting, lined up on both sides of the sidewalk, all had sticks in their hands, as the girls could see before they crossed the street to them. Right-handed boys lined up on the left, and left-handed boys lined up on the right, with enough space between them to give each boy a chance to swing several times on each girl as she passed by.

Sara could see that if they walked one at a time, then all the boys would get to spank them both, so she told little Nicole to walk beside her. She took the left side with the most boys, but it made little difference in total swats. The terrified girls approached, hands behind their heads, their naked pussies and titties showing to every grinning boy waiting for them.

As soon as the girls came into range, the boys began swatting them hard, one after another. The only thing louder than the shrieks and wails of two girls getting swatted was the laughter of the boys doing the swatting, and the laughter of boys watching the helpless girls shriek and bawl as they came closer and closer to getting more swats.

The girls finally made it through the crowd of boys, who didn't pursue them. But once they cleared the first crowd, they saw another crowd on the next block, who began lining up beside the sidewalk.

Those boys all had belts in their hands, and eager grins on their faces.

"Ohhhhh! Nooooo!!" the girls wailed, but if they didn't go straight to the 'rape therapy' counselor, they'd surely get spanked even worse. With only a few terrifying choices, the girls stepped off the curb. Drivers in cars saw two nearly-naked bawling girls cross the street toward two long lines of boys. Only those drivers waiting for the red light stopped. Many of the rest slowed down and cursed having a green light.

"Yyyaaaww!" the girls bawled as dozens of belts repeatedly struck two bare bottoms. "Hhhaaahhhwww! YYyhhaawww!" The girls had to keep walking. Past one boy, then another, then another, then another... as all the boys in front of them watched and held their belts ready.

The boys on the third block all had willow switches.

With her vision blurred by tears as she got spanked by numerous boys with switches that stung her bare bottom unceasingly, Sara couldn't be sure, but thought that might have been her father's car driving by, very slowly.

'No, no, it couldn't be him,' Sara thought. If he'd seen what the boys were doing to her, he would have surely stopped and rescued her, and saved little Nicole, too. Besides, he would have already been back to work by then. It must have been someone else.

(golden rod) Older boys on the fourth block, the last half of a block before the counselor, all had long plastic canes that they could use to spank both girls whether they tried walking side by side, or separately. If Sara and little Nicole ran, they would lose their panties after being so careful to keep from doing so, besides looking like they were in a hurry to go get raped, so they hurried as fast as they could without running. The plastic canes struck hard and often, and shrieks came just as often.

One boy even had a long golden rod he had borrowed from his father. Unlike the other boys, he followed along with the girls, keeping up with them as he spanked them, making them hurry hurry hurry to get raped sooner.


At last, the girls got to the counselor's home. He opened the front door when they arrived, but instead of taking them inside, he came outside. "Back yard," he said, turning the girls around by their elbows. He pushed them along, out to the sidewalk again, where a few grinning boys remained to watch. The crying girls still had to walk carefully to avoid pulling their feet out of their panties, or worse, tripping themselves. "This side," he said, and shoved them along.

Just out of view of the street, but in plain sight to them all the way to the back yard, a huge white banner hung from two poles so they would have to walk under it, proclaiming "Rape The Rapee" in bold black letters.

"Stop here," the so-called counselor demanded, when the girls stood under the banner. From there, they could see a large crowd of men in the back yard, watching them. A man strode forward and pointed a video camera at Sara's face. "Read this and don't sound like you're reading it," he said.


Welcome to Rape The Rapee.
My name is Sara Jessica Carson.
I'm ten years old.
I'm the rapee, and
I'm going to be raped.

Standing before a video camera with her wrists tied to the back of her neck, essentially naked, Sara scanned the large prompt card attached to the side of the camera. She cringed, then tried to say the words as if she wasn't reading them. "Welcome to Rape The Rapee. My name is Sara Jessica Carson. I'm ten years old. I'm the rapee, and I'm going to be raped." The man made her repeat it a few more times, to be clearer. Not that anyone would mind the crying that slurred her words, of course, but they would all want to know who she was as they watched her get raped.

The cameraman switched the prompt card. Little Nicole had to say the same, with her name and age instead, of course. "Welcome to Rape The Rapee. My name is Nicole Claire Miller. I'm seven years old. I'm the rapee and I'm going to be raped."

"Get Sara ready first, then Nicole," a new voice commanded, taking charge of the event. Little Nicole recognised the voice as that of Robert Blackrock. "Get her over here. Keep this one back where she can watch what's going to happen to her next."

Two men grabbed Sara by her arms and carried her backward to a large wooden frame, the larger of two otherwise identical frames. They lowered her down onto a sloping beam studded with short thick wooden points along the entire length. The points were blunt, not sharp, but they protruded far enough to hurt. She squealed in pain as her back hit the points, then her weight held her down on them.

Two more men with video cameras stepped forward. Other video cameras sat atop tall posts, aimed down at one frame or the other, or both, depending on how far they zoomed in.

The men unhooked Sara's wrists from the collar and pulled her arms out wide, then they bent her arms back to another cross beam behind her head. Sara shrieked. They bent her arms so far back they hurt on their own, never mind the extra pressure against the points under her. They hooked the cords on her wrists to hooks on the beam, then pulled levers to tighten them, pulling her arms farther back, stretching her chest as she wailed, holding her even harder on the points on the first beam. Sara kicked her legs wildly and cried loudly.

Smiling men took Sara's panties off her ankles, that she had somehow managed to keep to that point. They quickly looped more cords around her ankles, then pulled them to spread her legs wide. They pulled her legs back and hooked the cords to a second cross beam behind her feet. Her pussy opened up wide before the crowd and the cameras. Held down on the wooden points of the first beam by four tight cords on her wrists and ankles, Sara shrieked in agony, and squirmed side to side, desperately trying to find a position that would hurt even a little bit less. Sobbing, she looked at all the men around her, each and every one of them grinning at her as they watched the other two men get her ready for their pleasure.

Sara wondered, but only for an instant, if her father knew what was happening to her right then, and wanted it to happen. Suddenly, eight bright light panels turned on behind the crowd, erasing all shadows, and signaling that the activities would continue long after dark. "Nooohh!" she wailed.

The video cameraman held up a much larger card where Sara could see it. "Read it, but not like you're reading it!" he called to her while staying back so he wouldn't block anyone's view of her. "This time look around at everyone here, and say it like you're telling them!" He ended by stepping far back and shouting at her. "And you better be loud enough to hear!!"


Welcome to Rape The Rapee.
My name is Sara Jessica Carson.
I'm ten years old.
I'm the rapee.
All of you will get to rape me
as much as you want.

The men in the crowd smiled at the helpless naked girl held stretched tightly across the cruel wooden frame, squirming and whimpering in pain, now brightly lit, her pussy wide open. Sobs choked her so much she could barely talk, but Sara read the card and yelled the words to them as required, with only a little hesitation, but a great deal of fear.

The crowd cheered. The cameraman switched cards. Sara read the next one and cried, "When you're done, you'll get to do anything else you want."

"No," the cameraman insisted. "Repeat it exactly as written, and just as loud as the rest!"

Sara bawled loudly, "When you're all done raping me, you'll get to do anything else to me you want to doooooo!!"

The crowd roared. The cameramen circled. Little Nicole cried too, and stared at the second frame, noticing that it was just her size. Two men held her arms to keep her from going anywhere. One of them was the sheriff, she knew, but he was definitely out of uniform, like many of the other men already were. The two men turned her around so she faced the lights, with the frame behind her. They began carrying her by her arms. Little Nicole wailed.

The girls knew that once the men had little Nicole tied to the second frame, with her legs spread wide like Sara's, both girls would get raped just as much as they could possibly get raped in six hours. Given the size of the crowd of men, and their state of readiness, that was going to be a lot of raping. Both girls knew it, and their wet faces showed it, with barely any fear left to dread what the men would do to them afterward. The throng of men in the back yard, though excited to watch the preparation, were obviously even more eager to participate. Numerous video cameras would make sure that thousands upon thousands of other guys would get to watch as many times as they wanted to watch.


(previous) Sara learns of Rape Therapy
(next) Sara goes to therapy alone
(Sara's previous summer)
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