NOTE: This story contains scenes of forced sex. If this unduly upsets you or brings about feelings of sadness or terror because of any prior experience you may have had, I suggest you move on to another, less intense, story in the non-consent category.

"OmiGOD!!!! Seriously?"

I remember it like it was yesterday. My mom had just broken the news to me -- we were going to be the family in a commercial for the natural gas company; me, Mom, Dad and Granma. We were gonna be famous!

Mom had gotten hooked into the modeling thing one day in the mall, a guy approached her, complimented her on her looks, and conned her into agreeing to let his studio do some modeling shots. Just head shots, they said, and they would help her get a portfolio together. It all seemed on the up-and-up, but Dad wasn't buying into it.

"They just tell you that to get you to buy their stupid prints," he argued, but Mom was adamant.

"No, there's no requirement to buy anything," she countered. "They promised. If it makes you feel any better, I'll take Melanee with me," she told him, putting her hand on my shoulder. Like I was gonna be any help!

I was still in high school then, 18 and in my senior year, and a little star-struck by my mom's apparent luck. Yeah, she was gorgeous, in her 'mom' way, but why couldn't it have been me the man approached? Everyone said I was pretty! Friends of my parents even said I was a dead ringer for my mom, in her teenage years.

So, long story short, Mom got me out of school one day, and we went together to this studio downtown. It seemed okay. There was a receptionist and three other women and girls sitting there, all waiting their turns to be photographed. I had to admit, my mom was by far the most attractive lady there. She's tall and slim, same as me, but her boobs are much bigger; not huge, but definitely 'there'. We both have thick blonde hair. I've always kept mine longer -- almost to my waist - while hers has always been allowed to fall just over her shoulders. Her hair was wavier; I'd used straightener on mine for a while. I love the way Mom's hair looks, but being a teenager and rebellious, I had to be different.

The ladies were called in, one at a time, and then left after. We'd chatted. No one knew what to expect, but they were all excited to start on their 'modeling careers'. Another girl about my age came in after a while, accompanied by her mother. I thought it was funny that I was 'chaperoning' my mother, while this girl was being 'protected' by her mother! When Mom's name was called, they said I could go in with her. And guess what? The photographer, William, wanted to take photos of me, too! Mom and I were both excited, trying to hide our obvious grins.

William photographed my mom first. They were, as promised, all head shots. At one point he had her go change her top into an off-the-shoulder kind of 'drape' thing that covered your whole body, but you could see her bare shoulders. Then it was my turn. Same thing -- a number of head shots, mostly with me smiling as seductively as I could muster. Then I was asked to change into the same drapery thing, showing my own shoulders. William called Mom back, had us change into matching outfits he provided in the little room one at a time, then photographed us together. At last he was satisfied. He pronounced that our photos would be available for us to view in a little over a week, then dismissed us.

It seemed kind of assembly-line to me, but the pictures were outstanding. We bought, predictably and with my dad grumbling the whole time, a package of each of our shots. And Mom put together portfolios for each of us and began to shop them around.

That was two years ago. The television commercial offer had come up, as well as a couple of print ads, a month after. I did two magazine ads; Mom only one. Hah! Anyway, we shot the commercial as a family. Mom and I were both asked to change into specific outfits, but Dad and Gram wore what they arrived in. I think we changed outfits three times, so they could see how different colors worked. The one that ran had us both in these really form-hugging jeans and light blue tops. All my friends said my mom looked sexy and that I looked 'okay'. Thanks, guys! Melanee was the 'regular' daughter, my mom the sexy MILF. Dad admitted Mom looked very good, but he thought they were exploiting her sexiness to promote their product. Well, DUH!

Two years later

I was still home, going to the community college these days, when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find two men standing there, one with a clipboard. Census takers, I assumed. They both wore white dress shirts and ties, but no jackets. Well, it was hot out.

"Uh, hi," the dark-haired one said. "Is Mrs. Gallion home?"

I was like, "Uhm, no. She's at work."

The man studied his clipboard. "Are you Melanee Gallion?" he asked.

"That's me. What's up?"

He hesitated. "There's...uh, something we need to discuss with your mother. When will she be home?"

"Around five. That's in like, twenty minutes. D'ya wanna come in and wait?"

They both nodded and I let them in, even though I wasn't supposed to allow strangers into the house. Mom would probably be home sooner than I'd said, unless she stopped off somewhere. Truthfully, I was intrigued. Besides, the blonde guy was kind of cute. Like a cleaned-up surfer dude, with a deep tan under that white shirt and tie. I got them both a glass of water. I noticed they were watching me move around the house. I probably should have put on something a little classier than gray yoga pants and one of my dad's oversize shirts, but with me, what you see is what you get. Hey, I'm free, white and... well, I had the confidence of your normal twenty year old,. So there it is.

Blonde hunky guy told me his name was Derek. I liked that. Derek is a way-sexy name! The other, older guy, was Steve. They knew who I was, so no further intros were needed, but they asked a lot of questions while I watched the clock tick slowly over. 'Was I in school, still?' Yeah, studying everything and nothing right now, with no idea of what I was going to major in. 'Did I have a boyfriend?' Hmmm, that one made me pause. "I mean," Steve said, "you're so attractive. You probably have lots of boyfriends."

I told him I wasn't seeing anyone seriously right now, but then I thought that made me sound kind of slutty, so I corrected that to, "I mean, my boyfriend's away at college in Alabama." They both nodded, looking at each other. Derek asked me if he had been gone long and I said, "Oh my god! Yeah, like three months, now!" I told them how much I missed Jamie and what he was studying, yadda yadda yadda. I probably shouldn't have been so talkative, but if there was any chance Derek was available... No sense limiting my social life!

I heard Mom's car at last, and asked the guys to wait there. I met Mom in the garage and told her there were two guys from... Well, I had to admit I didn't know where they were from.

"Melanee," she scolded, "you let them in the house?" This, as she was brushing out her hair furiously. "Do you think they're from the studio? The gas company, maybe? Or the local TV station? Maybe they want us for another commercial!"

Now she had herself worked up, thinking we were going to be 'stars' again. Our commercial was still on occasionally, and she had some bites on her portfolio. Nothing had panned out recently, but she never gave up the dream.

"Hi, gentlemen," she said, walking confidently into the room in her high heels from work. "I see Melanee has you supplied with something to drink. Are you comfortable?" She was 'working' them, strutting from one to the other shaking their hands. You'd never know she'd just done eight hours behind a reception desk; she looked as fresh as a daisy. I had to admire that, watching her.

"Uhm...Mrs. Gallion," Steve began, "we came to talk about some out-takes from the commercial shoot you and your family did a while back."

Mom brightened up even more. "Oh, has something else come up? Just so you know, Melanee and I are still open to whatever you might have in mind." She turned and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me up alongside her. "My mother is unwell right now and my husband is unavailable, but if there's a need for a mother/daughter, we can work with that!"

We were both putting on our 'camera faces', smiling seductively without being obvious, when Derek said in a somber voice, "You better show them the stills first."

There was a moment of anticipation, then I felt my stomach drop. I couldn't explain it, but I had this queasy feeling that something was going on that neither Mom nor I were going to like much. I moved, along with Mom, over to where Steve was pulling glossy photos out from beneath the cover sheet on his clipboard. The first thing I saw was, I assumed, Mom. She, or whoever it was, had her panties around her ankles, sitting in the same dressing room we'd both used that day in William's studio. She was alone in there, obviously, because she had her fingers... well, they were busy. Very busy, by the look of it.

Mom froze, mid-sentence. I'm not even sure what she was saying, but her mouth quit making sounds while her lips were still moving. She suddenly pushed me back with a sweep of her arm.

"Those..." she said, and stopped. Steve had pulled out another one, but I couldn't see it. She said, "Oh my god," in a hushed voice. Steve was looking up into her eyes, neither smiling nor frowning. More like, studying her face. He flashed another, like a gambler pulling out aces from his deck.

"Melanee, I need you to go out to the kitchen and take out some chicken for dinner," she told me. I had to hand it to her; she covered her embarrassment the best way she could.

Derek stood up then, and said, "No. I think we'll have her stay here." His voice was soft, but commanding. I felt rooted to the floor where I was standing. Mom turned to him and asked why. She started making excuses fast, talking to fill space as Steve held up another, this one for me to see. My mother's head was back, her face contorted and her mouth half-open. There was little doubt that she was climaxing on those busy fingers. When...? How...?

Then Steve pulled one out of me. ME! I wasn't playing with myself, but I was posing sexily in just the tight jeans, with the zipper undone. I hadn't put the blue top on yet. My breasts were pulled up out of the lacy bra I had worn, so they looked bigger than they were then. It was a teenage selfie-type shot -- a little risque, okay. Something I thought my boyfriend might like, once I got one. I was still eighteen then, remember, and flying 'solo'. Taken by itself, it looked kind of skanky, I had to admit. But I hadn't done anything but fool around, posing in the mirror.

"Jeeze," I sighed. Then I felt Derek's hand on my back. I turned to him. He was staring at the still, then he looked at me. There was no mistaking that look. I felt like my top was off, and he was staring at my tits in that moment! I started to move away, but he had hold of my dad's shirt.

"It gets better," he said softly. I felt a chill go down my spine. I couldn't imagine anything else; that was all I had done. I had no idea we were being filmed when I did that. I'm sure my mom didn't, either!

Steve then pulled out some shots of... wait! It was a woman, but that wasn't my mom! This woman had Mom's face superimposed on her body, though. What the hell? Derek began crumpling up the shirt behind my back, pulling it tighter on my shoulders. My long hair was also in his grip, which pulled me off-balance a little, so I had to take a half-step back into him. He whispered in my ear, "Looks like your mom is taking it right to the balls, honey."

Ewwwww! I realized my nipples were hard, and showing through the cotton shirt, but it wasn't from arousal. I hadn't worn a bra around the house, and it was now painfully obvious. I saw Steve eyeing my nubs in my shirt front as I realized he had Mom's wrist held tightly in his free hand.

"And in this one," he said, spreading the pics one-handed, again like a card shark, "it looks like your little girl is trying to out-do you, Marlene." UGH! I wasn't sure what disgusted me more, him calling her by her first name, or the picture that he was showing me. No, it was definitely the picture! It was some porn slut with my grinning face, and it was so skillfully edited that it actually made me blink and look again. Jesus Christ, somebody was good with an editing program!

Mom was staring at the floor, refusing to even look. Steve's knuckles were white from the hold he had on her wrist. Then she began to speak.

"Look," she began, raising her eyes to look into Steve's, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you're after blackmail money you're out of luck." She stared defiantly at him as Derek held me like a ventriloquist's dummy, by the shirt. His leg slid in between mine, a subtle move that I almost didn't notice. Mom continued.

"I work a forty hour a week job, just to try to support us three."

'Ogod.' I knew, as soon as she said it, it was a mistake. Steve said, "Where IS your husband, Marlene?"

Mom refused to answer him. He asked again, then turned his gaze on me. I was trying to keep Derek's muscular thigh from wedging between my own, but losing. Mom hadn't even noticed it.

"So, Melanee, it seems like Dad is out of the picture. So," he said, glancing at the stairs, "is Granny up there?"

"No!" I said hurriedly. "I mean, yeah she is, but she's bedridden now. Please don't hurt her!" I knew by now that they meant us harm, even if Mom was still trying to reason with them as adults. Derek's cock was against my backside, and it felt solid. He was steadily pulling on me by way of the shirt, holding me against his body without alerting my mom. I decided to put an end to that.

"Will you let go of me?" I said loudly. Mom turned to me, and seemed aware for the first time that Derek was all up into my space. His knee pressed forward so that I was practically riding that muscular thigh. Dressed in only yoga pants, I was receiving some stimulation from him, and the more I struggled the worse it became.

"Let go of her!" Mom tried to pull away from Steve, but his grip must have been like iron. She flailed with her other hand, like a bronc rider, but Steve seemed to have little trouble holding onto her. He stood, and yanked her arm back sharply.

"Hey, little filly," he said in a fake Southern drawl, "Don't get your withers all in an uproar. Derek's just taken with your girl, is all. She's old enough, right? It's only natural." By now Derek's hand had slid up over my left shoulder and around my neck. He squeezed it, hard enough to make me cough. Mom began to thrash around when she saw that, but Steve dropped the photos on the carpet as he got control of her arms. He pulled both her arms back and leaned her backwards, both of them watching me and Derek.

"She's a bonus, huh?" he said to Derek. I don't think they thought I'd be home. So they hadn't been watching us; they just thought they could blackmail Mom with doctored pictures of the two of us. I was the 'bonus'.

Derek grunted, as his hand slid around to my belly and inside the waistband of my tights. "Yeah, and a hot little camel-toe, besides," he said. His hand sank lower, down to the top of my pubic mound. I started to scream and his hand tightened around my throat, pinching off my air and any sound, other than a kind of grunt. I looked, and Steve was looking around the house for something. I saw his head whip back and forth, then he shoved Mom ahead of him, her arms still held behind her.

Derek had reached my pussy, and his middle finger curled upward as he breached my labia. Oh god! A jolt of pleasure shot through me. It had been three months since Jamie and I had had 'departure sex', just before he left for Alabama. So to say that I was horny is putting it mildly; I'd been wound up for weeks! Derek noticed my reaction and chuckled in my ear.

"Kinda hot and bothered, aren't you?" he teased. "Don't worry, Melanee. I'll help to put out that fire. Or maybe stoke it to a major blaze!" He slid a second finger inside me, oblivious to my squirming attempts to get away. I could feel my slick dampness on his fingers as they waggled deeper. It felt... good, it didn't totally suck, I had to admit! It was difficult to breathe; maybe that's why my head was spinning, my mind beginning to think I didn't want him to stop just yet.

No! That was wrong! I told myself this was a rape and not a romantic situation. My mother... where was she? I took just a moment to whip my head back, only to see Steve leading her back into the living room. She was bound with something. His necktie! It was wrapped around her upper arms, probably down to her wrists as well. I couldn't see that. She was crying, her beautiful hair hanging down over her face. When she looked at me I started crying, too. We were crying for each other's safety. It wasn't doing anything to help, but I couldn't help it and neither could she.

Derek was grinding away in between my legs, and it was having a real effect on me. I felt my legs go slack, surrendering their treasure up to him instead of resisting. I was near to passing out, crying and whimpering as he took his cue from Steve and yanked his tie off. As he let go of my one arm, I spun around to my left. I might have gotten away if he was afraid of damaging my throat, but he wasn't. He tightened his grip on my windpipe, literally cutting off what little air I was getting. Things went dark.

I came to on my belly, my elbows pulled together behind me and held by Derek's tie, along with something else around my ankles. I couldn't tell what; rope, drapery cord, or something they'd found. I was utterly helpless. My face was pressed into the carpet. All I could see was the leg of the sofa. Then I realized I was being stripped naked; my leggings were sliding off over my lower legs even as I came to, left to rest around my bound ankles. Oh my god, he was about to do it! I pushed my shoulders off the carpet so I could swivel my head. I could hear Mom; she was sobbing, the sounds coming in waves. Then I saw her.

Steve had her bent over my dad's old recliner; the one Mom kept talking about getting rid of. He was thrusting into her, her skirt up around her waist, her panties around her ankles. Her ass and legs were tensed, the muscles standing out against her pale skin. Steve's legs were between hers, his ass clenching and unclenching as he rotated his hips, forcing his cock into her in a rhythmic, yet rough, motion. Her face was strained, her mouth hanging open as her tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Mom!" I yelled to her, unable to do anything else. I just wanted her to know I was there, as well. To know that she wasn't alone. It was poor timing, because just as she turned her head towards me, Derek slammed his dick into my pussy, all the way to his groin. I saw her eyes go wide as I screamed.

She started begging. "Please, please leave my daughter alone," she screamed, her voice ragged with fear. I began to plead with the men as well, asking them to stop abusing my mother, to let us go and we would never say anything. Anything I could think of! All of it on deaf ears. Both men were grunting into their captives like wild animals. It was a primal orgy of mating between men and their conquests. Both mine and Mom's pleading voices disintegrated over the next minutes into meaningless babble. We were lost.

The abuse seemed to go on forever. Derek actually finished before Steve, filling my unprotected pussy with his copious load of seed. After a dozen deep thrusts he pulled out, leaving me gasping beneath him. And though I hesitate to admit it, unsatisfied. If I could have fought through the pain, I thought irrationally, I might have enabled myself to find that release I now so desperately needed. Derek's abuse had left me wanting. Was this the beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome? I had heard of it, but didn't really understand it. r";u=64149 & uid=591777

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