Chapter 37: Rich Bitches Sentenced to Being Sex Slaves

Kristen goes to court.

She wants to branch out in her depraved fantasies that she has no way of realizing are coming true. She has been consumed by the diary. Bit by bit, it steals her soul away. Will it swallow her up one day? Destroy her?

She does not care.

She hardly sleeps.

Hardly eats.

Drinks.

She masturbates and writes, drifting in a haze of pure creation, corrupting the world for the amusement of those who read the diary. P and those the entity shares her stories with. She has no idea her existence is for beings beyond her comprehension’s pleasure.

She doesn’t care.

She is living out her desires. She burns to tell more and more stories, hoping each one will leave her fulfilled.

So she enters one of the courts and sits in the back. A woman was on the stand. She had plump lips and bleached-blonde hair. She wore an expensive dress that hugged her body. Her tits were big, obviously fake. A rich woman crying on the stand.

Only no tears ruined her heavy mascara.

“And that’s when ... he stopped suddenly...” the “sobbing” woman said. “I was so scared. It happened so fast. I tried to stop, I did ... But ... Why did he do that? There was no reason to stop. The light was green. I’m so scared all the time. I have panic attacks.”

The guy at the other table shook his head. His lawyer put a calming hand down on him.

“But you rear-ended him,” another lawyer said.

“Why did he stop?” She looked to the judge. The woman had deep cleavage. “I don’t get it. Why did he stop?”

“Miss Brentwood, you have to answer the question,” the judge said.

“I was just so frightened,” the woman said.

“Your honor,” says the lawyer at the other table. She wore a tight-fitting pencil skirt that hugged her rump. Just plump enough to give her curves. She had on a silk blouse, her breasts equally as large and equally as augmented by surgery. “My client needs a break. She’s very emotional. This has been tragic.”

“So tragic, Aunt Estella,” the girl whimpers, pretending to wipe at her tears.

“Ms. Brentwood, your client’s a big girl,” said the judge. “She can answer the question. Did you rear-end the plaintiff?”

“Yes,” the rich bitch mutters.

“And in your statement to police, you said, ‘I was singing my fav Swift song with my sis. Just jammin’ out. Then the, you know, idiot before us stopped. The light was fucking green.’ Do you remember saying that?”

The rich girl on the stand looked at the young woman by the lawyer-aunt. “I mean ... it’s a killer tune. We’re both Swifties, but ... I was paying attention.”

“Yes or no?”

Kristen watches the trial. The fake tears from the rich bitch on the stand, then from her sister. They’re Anastasia and Champagne. Their aunt, Ms. Estella Brentwood, thinks she’s a top-shit lawyer. A real bitch.

When she questions the plaintiff, Gerald Smith, on the stand, Kristen’s blood boils.

“Isn’t it true that you smoke pot?” Ms. Brentwood says on her cross after Gerald spoke of neck pains from the accident.

“I guess,” he mutters.

“Were you high when you randomly stopped at a green light, giving no warning to my clients?”

“There was a dog running out into traffic!” he gasped. “I was supposed to hit a dog?”

“An alleged dog,” the lawyer says with a sneer. “Let the record show the plaintiff has not proven the existence of this dog. Were you high that day?”

“No!”

“But you regularly drive high on pot.”

“Never!”

“And drunk, too. Your fraternity is famous for your Friday keggers.”

“It was Sunday! And I wasn’t drunk.”

“We don’t know because the police failed to do a field sobriety test.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“Because you were high? Studies show that habitual pot use causes poor judgment and situational awareness. Was that why you just stopped? Or did you hope my poor clients would rear-end you for the insurance money?”

Kristen finds her story. She pens the first sentence.

The punishment must fit the crime.

Anastasia Brentwood

I sat at the table with my aunt and little sister. I sneered at the defendant. That disgusting pleb ruined my Ferrari. That model was a limited edition. It was irreplaceable. I wanted to shout that on the stand, but Auntie Estella said it would be a bad idea.

“I have reached my decisions,” the judge said. We went with a bench trial on Auntie Estella’s advice.

“We’re probably going to lose,” she said. “But at least with a judge, the damages won’t be too severe. Jury’s can be ... punitive.”

I didn’t know what punitive meant, but it sounded bad.

“Rise,” the judge said.

Auntie Estella rose. I glanced at Champagne. She shrugged. It was her fault, too, I wrecked my car. She wanted to sing to that dumb new Taylor Swift song. Fuck, it was Taylor Swift’s fault for putting out such a banger. She should pay for my new car! Why did everyone hate me? I was so pretty.

I rose and smiled at the judge, subtly adjusting my cleavage. I knew he enjoyed staring at my rack as I testified. I’d fuck him for sure if it got me a new Ferrari. Daddy wasn’t happy with me at all. Claimed I cost him money.

I was his favorite daughter. I was supposed to cost him money. That accident was the worst day of my life. My new Gucci purse was torn, too. That disgusting frat boy should have to pay for that, too. The judge should throw the book at him.

“I’m dismissing the countersuit,” the judge said, staring at me. “Your claim that the plaintiff’s actions were reckless show no merit. It’s your responsibility to maintain a safe following distance while driving in case the car in front of you tries to stop for a dog.”

“He was high!” I gasped out. “But that stupid cop was a member of his fraternity and let him by. I saw them!”

“Be quiet, Miss Brentwood,” the judge said. “I’m finding for the plaintiff. You will have to pay...” He blinked for a moment. “You and your sister, Champagne Brentwood, are hereby sentenced to spend the summer break as his sex slaves.”

“What!” I gasped.

“Me, too?” Champagne gasped. “But I wasn’t driving! My dumb sister was!”

“Dumb!” I screeched.

The judge pounded his gavel and roared, “Quiet, you insipid, stuck-up, rich bitches! You’re self-centered cunts who have no care for anyone but your own vapid little existence. You think money can buy your way out of any problem. That you can just drive like a reckless idiot and have no consequences? Worse, you’re such a dumb bint you think you can sue the guy you rear-ended for daring to stop to avoid hitting a dog! You will learn some fucking humiliation and understand your place in the world. Your father should have sold the two of you off to a rich sheik years ago.”

I scoffed in outrage, folding my arms beneath my breasts. “He ruined my Gucci purse!”

“And my new dress!” added Champagne. “Why do we have to be—”

“You two say one more word, and it’ll be a year sucking his dick and taking his loads in your gashes!” snarled the judge, glaring at us.

I squeaked again, grabbing my sister’s hand.

“That’s utterly disgusting, Your Honor!” Auntie Estella gasped. “You can’t do that. That’s a violation of the 8th Amendment for Cruel and Unusual punishment.”

“After your disgusting defense, I’m holding you in contempt,” the judge said. “You’re just as much of a vapid airhead as your nieces. You’ll join them as a sex slave in addition to covering all his medical fees and the cost of his car.”

Auntie Estella’s jaw dropped.

“Bailiff, put the collars on their throats and remand them to the care of Mr. Gerald Smith. They will stay in his care until September 1st.”

My jaw was on the floor. This could not be happening. This was utterly disgusting. The bailiff—a beefy Black guy who weighed two hundred pounds more than me—approached us with collars. They were leather and had locks on them. I started to cry as he opened one collar and cinched it about my neck.

“But ... but...” I protested as he pulled it tight. The collar locked. He attached a leash to it.

He did the same to my little sister and then Auntie Estella. I hugged Champagne as the bailiff handed the leashes over to that asshole that stopped. I shuddered as he held them. This could not be happening.

“And, your honor,” said George, “since they’re my sex slaves, I can let all my frat brothers fuck them, too?”

“They’re yours to use,” said the judge. “The new law says so long as you don’t leave any lasting injuries, though tattoos and piercings are fine, they can use them how you want. Gangbang them or just make them clean your house.”

“I’ll make sure all the frat’s waiting,” George said.

I wailed loudly.

After the hour or so of paperwork, the three rich sluts bitch and moan as they’re led to George’s new car, an old Toyota. They have to climb in, cringing at the McDonald’s wrappers strewn in the back. They cry the entire way to his frat house where the fraternity is out front waiting for their arrival.

With them is a camera crew. When Mom found out about the first use of the sex slave law, she rushed there with her team to film it. The frat’s eager to gangbang the three rich bitches for the entire summer.

Anastasia Brentwood

I stared at the frat house in horror. A dozen guys were out front along with three guys with cameras being directed by a woman with naturally blonde hair and big breasts. She was smiling and nodding as George parked the car.

I whimpered as the car door opened.

“If we don’t obey,” whispered Auntie Estella, “we’ll have to spend our sentence as sex slaves at a men’s prison. Do you want hardened criminals fucking you night and day for the summer?”

“No!” I wailed.

“No, no, no,” Champagne sobbed, my little sister clinging to me.

“Then just ... enjoy yourself,” my aunt said. “This is happening. We’re...” She trembled, her eyes watering. “We’re being punished.”

“But we did nothing wrong!” I clung to my sister as the cameras were at the car. My mascara must be running. I must look like a frightful mess. This wasn’t fair. Not fair at all.

George opened the back door and grabbed our leashes. He yanked on us. Auntie Estella slid out first, followed by Champagne, I went last, nearly tripping and falling on my face. I trembled as the guys were watching us. They were nudging each other, looking in shock.

The cameras followed us as George led us up to the frat house. The guys were grinning. They were so hungry for us. We were taken inside. There was a stale scent in the air. Too many guys in one place. A large living room. Several TVs. Game systems. Porno mags on the table. A dartboard on the wall. A pool table in the next room. Several arcade machines.

“Damn,” a guy said, tall and nerdy. “You’re really going to share your sex slaves with us?”

“Fuck, yeah,” George said. “You guys have been there for me the last fucking year dealing with these bitches. We have all summer to enjoy them.”

“Yeah,” said another guy. “So, uh, how do you gangbang a group of girls?”

None them looked sure what to do. I just held my aunt and sister, wanting to flee.

“Strip the bitches,” Mom says, realizing she’ll have to give some direction. She wants this video to be a huge success. “Rip the clothes off them.”

“Right, right,” George said. “Strip them. That’s the first thing.”

Anastasia Brentwood

The guys descended on us. George grinned at me. “I’m so glad you totally my shitty car. It was worth $750. That’s it. Now I get to do this.”

“My tits are worth more than that,” I wailed as he ripped open the front of my dress. “Hey, that’s worth more than $750, too!”

“And?” he asked. “I own you!”

He kissed me.

I wanted to push the disgusting worm off me, but my auntie’s warning echoed in my mind. If I didn’t do what he said, I could be sent to prison and be fucked by even grosser guys. I whimpered as his tongue danced around in me as he fondled my naked tits.

He squeezed my tits. Daddy bought them for me. He kneaded them with his strong fingers. I whimpered at this. My sister and aunt gasped out as their clothes were also torn. This was so awful. We were rich. This shouldn’t happen to us.

Poor girls should be sex slaves. Not me.

George broke the kiss and glanced at the woman with the camera crew.

“Rip off her thong,” she said. “Fuck her in the ass. Someone shove a dick in her mouth. And you with the younger girl. Yeah, suck on those sixteen-year-old titties. Yes, yes, get their aunt down. She’s a MILF, fuck her hard!”

I whimpered as I was shoved to my hands and knees. George ripped my thong off me. I gasped as the cloth tore. I paid $105 for those. They were so cute. I trembled as another guy dropped down before me. He pushed up his glasses. The nerd looked like he never had his dick sucked before.

“Open wide, bitch,” he growled.

I cringed and opened my lips wide. I had no choice. It was this or the men’s prison. He rammed his cock into my mouth. He tasted salty. I suckled on him. I knew how to blow a dick. I suckled on Daddy’s all the time to get purses and dresses and jewelry. I had to let Daddy ass-fuck me for my Ferrari that dork ruined.

The dork’s cock pressed into my butt-crack. He could just fuck me in the ass without anything. I whimpered, sucking on the cock in my mouth as this ... heat started itching in my cunt. I whimpered around the incel’s cock and suckled hard.

“Shit,” he groaned as I did that. “Fuck, she’s got a mouth on her.”

“Yep,” said the dork nuzzling his cock into my asshole. “Fucking bitch runs her mouth. You got her to shut up.”

“That’s right,” the incel dweeb groaned as I suckled on his cock. “Shit, bitch, that’s good!”

I whimpered, the cameras filming it all. They were recording my humiliation. It was terrible. I shuddered at the way they moved around me. Why were they here? Those were expensive cameras. Would this...

Be on the internet?

The dork thrust hard against my asshole. I squealed as my anal ring surrendered to him. My eyes rolled back in my head as he penetrated into my bowels. His cock sank into me. I groaned around the incel’s dick. The dweeb grinned down at me as my rectum burned.

No lube.

It almost hurt, and almost ... felt good.

I whimpered, my pussy getting wetter. What was happening to me? Why was I...?

No, no, no fucking way I was enjoying being used by these poor dicks. They didn’t have a trust fund. Or a summer home in the Hamptons. Or a yacht. They didn’t even have a Mercedes, let alone a really expensive car.

I shuddered as that big dick sank into my asshole. He was so huge. I whimpered around the cock in my mouth as George filled me up. He groaned as he bottomed out in my asshole. The heat melted to my cunt. Juices trickled down my thighs.

“Damn, cunt, I knew you were a tight-ass bitch,” George groaned. “Didn’t realize how tight. That’s good.”

I whimpered at the heat burning in my asshole. The cock drew back. So big and thick. My eyes rolled back in my head at the size of him. He slammed back into me. I whimpered around the dweeb’s dick in my mouth.

George fucked my asshole hard. Fast. He churned me up. I whimpered with his every thrust into me. It was so ... so ... good. I hated how much I loved it. I suckled hard on the cock in my mouth as George pounded my backdoor.

“Fuck, bitch,” he grunted. “Oh, you dumb slut, that’s good. Oh, yes, yes, I’m so glad you rear-ended me. My boys and are going to spend the summer fucking all your holes. You’ll be dripping in our cum!”

“Probably end up knocked up,” groaned the dweeb. “You, that little sister, and that fine-ass aunt.”

“Yes!” grunted George as he fucked my anal sheath hard.

He buried into my bowels with force. I shuddered at the feeling of him doing that. My sister squealed in the background. So did my aunt. Guys grunted. They were all naked now. All enjoying us or watching. The cameras filmed.

My big, fake tits swayed beneath me from the force of George’s strokes. I rocked back and forth, sliding my lips up and down the thick dick in my mouth. I suckled hard on him, whimpering at the heat burning in my asshole. My pussy drank in the delight.

“Fuck, your bitch is sucking so hard,” the incel dweeb ground. “This is the fucking best!”

“I know!” grunted George. He pounded my bowels. “I own you, slut. These tits that daddy bought you are mine!”

He grabbed my fake tits and squeezed them.

I squealed around the dick in my mouth, my bowels clamping down on George’s cock. He kneaded my tits as he fucked me so hard. I whimpered, my pussy drinking in the heat and ... But, there was no way I could cum.

Yet my orgasm built and built. I whimpered as those rough hands kneaded my tits. Peasant hands massaging me. I was a princess, and that dirty dick fucked my asshole while I suckled on that commoner’s rod. I nursed hard on him, suckling on him.

Drool ran down my chin. I whimpered, the heat blazing in my asshole. My waxed pussy dipped juices down my thighs. I whimpered, wiggling my hips. I whimpered around the cock in my mouth, about to cum from those powerful strokes.

“Shit, that’s good,” grunted George. “My rich bitch is going to make me cum!”

“Me, too,” the incel dweeb groaned. ‘Shit, she’s sucking so hard. I think she wants my cum.”

I didn’t want his cum. That was disgusting, but ... His salty precum did taste good. My tongue probed at his slit as George rammed into my asshole. The heat soaked down to my pussy. My eyes bulged. It was too much.

I exploded.

My asshole convulsed around George’s cock. I groaned around the dweeb’s dick. I suckled hard on him, the waves of rapture sweeping through me. Pussy cream gushed down my thighs as George hammered my writhing bowels.

“I think the bitch just came,” growled George as he slammed into my b

owels. “What a fucking whore!” roared the dweeb.

He erupted.

His salty cum set off another orgasm. I gulped down his jizz as George slammed into my asshole.

“Fuck, yes!” he growled and exploded in my asshole.

I trembled, the ecstasy sweeping through me. My bowels writhed around his cock, milking him. I worked out all the jizz from his balls. He grunted, dumping his load into my bowels. I whimpered, milking him.

He grunted, squeezing my tits as he dumped more and more blasts of cum into my body. It was so good to have him doing that. My eyes rolled back into my head. I loved every second of this. He filled me up with his spunk.

It felt so good to have him doing that to me. I milked him, moaning around the spurting cock in my mouth. I gulped down all that salty jizz as my asshole writhed around George’s cock. I whimpered, my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Shit, bitch,” groaned George as he erupted one last time into my asshole.

“That was fucking awesome!” the dweeb groaned as I suckled out all his cum. I swallowed every drop.

Me! I swallowed.

What was going on?

Champagne Brentwood

I trembled, my pussy dripping with cum as I was dragged over to George. He pulled his cock out of my sister’s asshole. She had another dick in her mouth, her big tits jiggling. I had my own fake tits. Like my sister, I gave Daddy my cherry, and he gave me a wonderful set of boobs.

Better than her dumb tits.

“Open wide,” George said. “Suck your sister’s ass off my cock.”

I licked my lips and ... I opened wide. The camera recorded me doing this. I was sixteen and already doing such wicked things. Daddy would be so mad. I swallowed George’s dick. He was my master for the summer. I had to please him.

“Lick your sister’s cunt clean, Anastasia,” said the woman recording this.