Mister Goodheart Gets Home

“Aa-mee,” a male voice awakens me, albeit not one speaking to me. I don't even remember drifting off into a nap, but as I awaken, the scent of Amy's musk floods my lungs. I groan softly into wakefulness, listening before my eyes even open up.

“Aaaaa-meeeeee,” a male voice calls, still right beside us, more firmly, a little louder, and I feel Amy's entire body shaking. I blink awake fully, opening my eyes as I hear Amy yawning. Evidently we both fell asleep, laying on her bed, just like this.

I look up to see Kurtis Laurent Goodheart, Amy's father, standing over us at her bedside. Amy yawns loudly, stretching her arms as her eyes flutter open. Her head on her pillow, under the cover of bedding though it is, she looks up at her father.

“Oh, hey, Dad. Sorry, I must have fallen asleep,” she replies.

“Mister Goodheart, I ...” I start to say something before he looks at me.

“Shut up, faggot, I'm talking to your Mistress,” he orders; the words die in my throat instantly, and he looks back at Amy, and smiles. “Your fag is well-programmed. Your mother said you wanted to speak to me about something, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes,” Amy says, without attempting to change position. “I want to know if you would approve of banning my faggot from wearing clothes anywhere in the house. He's not allowed clothes in my room, but I'd like him nude, all throughout.”

“He's not a cunt slave, so he won't be eating Mom's pussy,” she tells him immediately, and her Dad strokes his chin, and he thinks about it. The idea that I won't be servicing his wife doesn't seem like a factor, based on his lack of reaction to it.

“If he'll be on display before our eyes at all times, I will expect free use of him, myself,” her father says, “It would unfair to me, and in a sense to your mother, for you to have him visibly accessible and for me to not be allowed to use him, myself.”

“Of course, Dad,” Amy smiles casually, “Absolutely. I think that's entirely fair. Really.” Mister Goodheart nods in response, as he continues to stroke his jawline. I can tell that he is thinking about it, and coming to the obvious second conclusion.

“It would also be unfair to your brother ... hm?” he starts, before Amy shakes her head and holds up a hand to stop him.

“Dean already negotiated access,” she tells him, as I remain silent, obedient, my cheek still resting on Amy's thick rod. Her hand remains on my face, her foot on my ass, as she looks up at her father and casually discusses forbidding my clothing.

“Good. Done,” Mister Goodheart says, looking to me, “From now on, you are to undress the moment you step in our yard. If you're here, faggot, you're nude, and you will service my cock in any manner I desire, whenever I desire, no questions.”

“Yes, Mister Goodheart,” I answer obediently, and Amy's father nods. Amy strokes my cheek, caressing me with a thumb, as she takes in a deep breath and relaxes. Then she looks at the time and sighs, groaning as she pulls her hips back slowly.

“Not now, though, Dad,” Amy says, “The faggot needs to go home. The twins are expecting him home before dinnertime. He's to be cum-fed from now on, which means he'll need more time to eat his dinner.” Mister Goodheart nods in answer.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Mister Goodheart answers, and Amy slips out from underneath me and onto her feet, standing. She pulls my hair, guiding me off the bed to stand in front of her, then lets go. I collect my clothes, but don't put them on.

“Okay, thank you, Mister Goodheart,” I say, before Amy escorts me out of the house and onto the sidewalk outside of their fenced yard. I'm a bit embarrassed to be standing nude in public, literally on the sidewalk where anyone could notice me.

When Amy nods, I quickly dress, putting on and straightening my clothes. Then Amy smiles at me, stroking my hair out of my face. “Now, remember. You are free use. If I hear of you refusing any of our friends attendance, I will be disappointed.”

“No, Amy,” I reassure her, “I won't refuse. I don't have the right, not anymore. If any of our friends want to interrupt my walk home, I will let them use me as they see fit.” Amy nods, leaning close and kissing one cheek, and stroking the other.

“So proud to be your best friend and your Mistress, faggot,” she tells me firmly, confidently, turning me bodily away from her, “Now, go home, fag.” I obediently nod and set out down the sidewalk, headed for the first crosswalk on the path back.

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