Everything you wanted

As your father draws your willing mouth through the sticky filth that coats his brutal cock from root to crown, your hand at your hole finds it only more sensitive to arousal at your touch. You explore your ring under the layered leavings of your father's brutal ****, and your hand comes away heavy, sticky and full. You hesitate, not wanting to pull away from your duty to your father's cock to suck your fingers clean. But he sees your dilemma and, watching for your prompt obedience, gives a brusk demand.

"Stroke your useless toy cock, hole." You moan where you nuzzle and suck, taking your own drooling meat in a warm, slick-sticky grip, smearing it with the mixture of his cum and your own worthless shit under his watchful, scornful eye. "Stroke it and be grateful, and do not stop until I say." You whimper and cringe, still holding his eyes so that he can watch your own, slowing your tongue to savor every shameful, degrading, deliberate lick, and obey.

You understand that your father, reading deep into your most shameful self, is not content with merely ruining those demanding urges that already possess you. Having you sharpen those urges, deepening that need, can only chain you more firmly to your fate. By letting it happen, you will only make yourself more submissive, more eager for defilement. You will depend upon this to even be able to cum, and it will always be used to remind you what you have chosen to be. Your father sees that you understand, and grins smugly down, his own bestial, hairy cock stiffening against your attentive mouth.

You pump your cock slowly, not to cum from your hand, but only to feel your sack grow heavy again with your doomed seed. In reward, your father pulls you forward by the chain of your collar, angling your head and neck to slide his filth-caked cock into your mouth and down your throat. You do not gag, but use a reflexive swallow to milk his **** bull-cock, nuzzling to the root. Your father stares down, considering you closely, and intentionally grinds his filth-matted pubes into the sparse, cum-sticky, wisps of a mustache and chin fuzz, leaving a soiled, brown ring all around your mouth, and looks half-satisfied. A look in his eye challenges you to respond.

You know what to do. You back off of his cock, the bitter taste, however, coating your tongue and all down your throat, to focus on teasing your father hard and ready again with glazed lips and teasing, tasting tongue, but mostly smearing the mingled cum and filth that so thickly coats him all around your mouth and nose. From his pleased, gloating smirk, you know you have chosen correctly, and you sink lower to root in the matted, sticky, stinking hair of his massive sack with your tusks.

All the while, your slow-pumping hand smears and soils your drooling cock as you stroke yourself, stoking urges meant for mating, turning them to craving for defilement and debasement. Your hand is almost empty, your lesser but no less hard arousal now caked as brown and filth-fouled as his own. So you keep your eyes on his, and let him see how you reach down, and back to circle your quivering ring, to bring your hand back, more full than before, and continue, timing your slow strokes to the licks of your tongue.

The smug judgement in his eyes, as you lean deeper into your need to shame yourself to please him, is all the praise you receive, and all you require.