Fuck No

As your ex best friend continues to fuck your ass, Allie pulls her cock out of your mouth, slow and smooth. She looks down at you, as the first stream of her release hits your face, and you close your eyes, feeling another stream of it hit you. One pulse after another, covering your face in her thick load, and you groan softly and take it. You arch and grunt in pain as Marty slams his hand down on your ass, spanking you hard and nasty.

You feel her crown brush across your lips, then she steps away, and you sigh, as your hips sway under Marty's thrusts. You can feel him pumping you harder and faster, taking you as hard as he can, until his cock pulses in your ass. He sighed in satisfaction, “Fuck, faggot ... take it you little bitch, you're so lucky you aren't in a dumpster right now, faggot.”

As he grunts, you feel him pulling out of you, and then his cum pumps across your back and ass. You're a cum-drenched mess, panting on your hands and knees, before you feel your father's hand in your hair. You gasp softly and then **** as he yanks your head up and shoves his prick in your mouth, and you start to suck your dad's cock again, lovingly moaning for him.

“Too bad this bitch can't be bred,” Marty says behind you as he wipes his prick off on your nuts, before he spits on your back, “all the more reason it's lucky that it hasn't been thrown in the trash like it deserves.”

You feel your father's cock slide out of your mouth, and you instinctively start licking and kissing, worshipping his meat like you've been programmed to do. You moan softly, rolling your tongue up his length, kissing the crown and kissing down the sides, then licking up again.

“Can't believe I ever mistook you for a person,” Marty mutters, “Fucking disgusting faggot.” You hear him starting to walk toward what used to be your bedroom, but you're too busy worshipping your father. You caress his shaft with your tongue, licking and moaning as you feel it starting to pulse under your lips and your silken tongue. He sighs softly in pleasure.

Soon, you feel another load of cum pumping onto your face, and you tilt your face up toward your father. His load pulses across your face, and then you feel one last drop land on one of your eyes. Then a feeling of pressure on your hair and you realise he's wiping off the head of his prick in your hair, and you shiver a little bit at it, “Thanks for using me, dad.”

“Good night, princess,” he doesn't answer or acknowledge you, he simply wishes your twin sister good night, and walks away. Then you feel fingers in your hair, and pressure pulls you into movement, crawling on your hands and knees. You can't see where you're going, but you still have a fairly good idea based on the fingers in your hair, your twin sister's.

Soon she stops, pulling your hair back and guiding you into a kneel once more before she speaks, “Remain on your knees until you're dry, faggot. Then lay down on the floor. You're in my room and I expect my bedside rug to be where it's supposed to be.”

“Yes, Allie,” you answer obediently, as programmed. You can't bring yourself to thank her for this, your mind still rejects the notion that this is what you're meant for, that she deserves to be thanked and praised. She's treating you decently well, you get appropriate nutrition and she's let you bathe a few times, and Allie has brushed your teeth three times a day.

Even still, you can't accept that this is your purpose in life, much less embracing it. Your mind refuses to acknowledge that that's even a remote possibility, even with all that's happened, even if you can't reject the programming. Your mind refuses to claim you don't like it, but that still doesn't mean it's what you wanted, what you hoped for your life to be.

At the same time, as you listen to her getting into bed, you can't deny she's been good to you, under the circumstances. Warped as those circumstances are, she's being a good owner, “Allie?”

“Yea, faggot?” she asks, as you hear her bedding shifting as she pulls her covers up.

“Thanks for keeping me fed, and taking care of my teeth, and letting me bathe,” you say. You're not exactly speaking freely, because you've been programmed to be thankful and express it, but the words are still authentic.

You hear her bedding shift, then you feel her foot on the back of your head, ruffling your hair. She pats your head a couple times with her foot, then relaxes, letting her foot drift across your back before hanging over the edge of her bed.

“You're welcome, faggot. You're my property and I'll take good care of you. Now shut up and let me sleep, fag,” she replies, ending with an order that seals your lips obediently shut.