Collar and Leash

“There's a collar and leash in the desk in the kitchen,” Allie says, making your cum-soaked cheeks brighten red, “Put it in the trunk of your car.” You continue to bob your head on Allie's cock, sucking slowly, gently, as Sam's prick pulls out of your hand. You hear her putting her dick away, and you're sad you can't continue to run your hand up and down her prick.

You hear her walking away, the sound of the desk drawer opening, footsteps returning, and then a cold collar wraps around your throat and buckles. Then fingers in your collar and Sam yanks you off your twin sister's dick and clicks the leash. You start to rise before Allie kicks you in the nuts and corrects you, “You remain on your hands and knees, faggot.”

“Yes, Mistress. Goodbye, Mistress,” you say but she doesn't answer you. Sam simply yanks the leash.

“Heel, fag,” Sam says, “Thanks for letting me borrow it Allie.” You crawl to Sam, your face still covered in her seed, walking on all fours out the front door of your former home, until she snaps her fingers at you.

“Up. In the trunk, faggot,” she commands, and you comply, crawling in until you feel the carpet, “Lay down, fag.” You obey her command, laying down in her trunk and feeling the leash go slack. You don't complain or object, you know there's no point. This is what you are. You're nothing, not even precious enough to worry about or take precautions to keep safe.

If anything happens to you, it's no great loss to anyone. The realisation that you aren't good enough sinks into your brain. This is how you earn it, you tell yourself. This is how you show you're special and worth it. The more satisfied your Mistress is, the more care she'll take of you ... and right now, by your Mistress' own words, Sam is your Mistress, but only for tonight.

You hear and feel the car start, and rumble into motion. A few minutes later, it stops and parks, because Sam doesn't live that far away. Car door opens and closes, the trunk opens, the leash goes taut with a yank. “Come on, fag. Heel.”

You crawl on your hands and knees to follow, remembering your True Owner's words, as your current Mistress walks you to her family. You've known them all your life, but now you're nothing but a subhuman faggot and they're human. You're going to need to service them, but the idea no longer bothers you like it would have, once. Brian would have never found himself in this position, but you're not Brian anymore. You're just a faggot, and this is all you're good for.