BIRTHDAY PRESENT
by V.P. Viddler
"Happy birthday to you," Donald sang. "Happy birthday to you. Happy
birthday, dear Harold, happy birthday to you."
"Thanks a bunch," I said.
"And now," Donald said. "What would you like for your birthday?"
"Your sister," I said.
"Ah. Is that right?" Donald said. "You want Donna for your birthday?"
"Right."
"But you know Donna doesn't want anything do do with you, don't you?"
Donald said.
"All the better," I told him. "It would make it more stimulating."
"That's what I thought," Donald said. "All right, Donna. You can come in
now."
And Donna came into the room. Donna. Donald's little sister. Still in
high school. Young. Lovely. Voluptuous. Haughty. Untouchable. And now naked. And
now, bound, with her wrists tied behind her back. And now, with a gag in her
mouth. And now, shaking with rage and fright and shame and helplessness. Long
blonde hair hanging down. Breasts thrusting. Thighs alluring. Dark eyes staring,
glaring, blazing, despairing. And naked. Donna was stark, staring naked. Except
for a sash that was draped across her body. A sash that said, "Happy Birthday,
Harold."
"Two minds with but a single thought," Donald said. "Which is the
subjugation of an attractive but headstrong young girl. Although Donna is my
sibling, I am not at all unaware of her smoldering sexuality. Not a bit of it.
In fact, I will now confess that for a long time I have thought of having that
young body, to play with, just like a toy. To do with as I would. So I took it.
Didn't I, Donna?" Donald paused.
Donna didn't say anything. Not that she could, with that gag, but she
did not respond in any way at all.
Donald said again, "Didn't I, Donna?" and put his hand on her shoulder.
Donna began to tremble. She bit at her lip, and then nodded.
"That's right," Donald said. "I took it. I raped my sister. It was a
task, though. I had to break her spirit first. So I did that. Would you like to
know how, Harold?"
"Okay," I said.
"It's quite fascinating," Donald said. "But actually, you might enjoy it
still more if Donna told you herself. That would give it a certain piquancy,
wouldn't you say? Having her describe the destruction of her will by her own
brother. How she was broken. Think of her doing that for you while you fuck
her."
Donna was crying now, muffled sobs issuing from her choked throat.
"That gag can come out so Donna can talk about it," Donald said. "It
isn't actually necessary, but it makes a nice touch, don't you think? And while
you fuck her, I think she should be tied down. Bound spread-eagled and stretched
out tight. Spread for you. Would you like that, Harold?"
"I'd like it," I said.
"Would you like that, Donna?" Donald said.
Donna made whimpering sounds.
"Good," Donald said.
"Good," I said. "Is Donna a good rape?" I said to Donald.
"Fantastic," Donald said. "Just fantastic. Because she hates it so much,
she struggles and fights and squirms and twists and thrashes about, and it gives
you such a ride you want to fuck her always. Right, Sis?"
Donna sank to her knees on the floor, sobbing and moaning.
"A good position if you want her to suck your cock first," Donald said.
"No," I said. "Not now. Later. Now I want to fuck her luscious young
body."
"All right. Let's drag her inside and lash her down on the bed and fuck
that form to our heart's content."
"And then you can show me how you broke her."
"Oh, good. I'd love to do it again. I'll have her crawling for you."
"Good," I said. "But first I want you to work on her until she sings
Happy Birthday to me. I want her to sing Happy Birthday, dear Harold, as she's
lying spread open and naked and fucked half to death."
"Okay," Donald said. "But you'll hear her sing a lot of other tunes
first, I expect. Loud ones. Not always modulated. Most wild, shrieking tunes."
"I can't wait," I said.
Donna said, "NNGGH MMPHHH URGHH EKK MHMHMHMHMH NNAUURRRLLL UNH UNH UNH
UNH UNNNGGHHGH." And so on, and Donald and I hurt her a lot and Donna strained
in agony and the sash read Happy Birthday, Harold.
And Donna sang for us for a long time...
