Feel so degraded

The aftermath of our forced climax leaves us both feeling dirty and used, our bodies sticky with sweat and cum. The chains are a constant reminder of our bondage, a symbol of the control he holds over us.

"Clean up," he says, tossing us a towel. "And then we'll have some more fun."

My mother and I move in unison, our bodies still trembling from the intensity of the experience. We wipe ourselves down, avoiding eye contact, the weight of what we've just done hanging heavy between us. The towel feels rough against my skin, scraping away the glitter and makeup, but it can't scrub away the feeling of violation.

As we lay there, trying to compose ourselves, he starts to tie our hands above our heads, the chains rattling as he secures us to the bed frame. "This is just the beginning," he says, his eyes glinting with excitement. "I have so much more planned for my two little sluts."

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