You agree to her plan

“Great. Let’s go!” Susan grins with satisfaction “I want to get this fixed now.”

You’re a little surprised that she means at this very moment. But you’ll do what you need to for your country. You take the last swig of your beer and follow her next door, into her house, then upstairs into Paisley’s bedroom.

Paisley is there, dancing seductively in front of a cell phone set up on a tripod, She's wearing a flimsy white tank top and short cotton shorts.

It’s a real damn shame. Not only that this pretty girl is getting brainwashed into being a carpet chewer, but that she thinks it’s appropriate to broadcast herself half naked like this. It’s likely a huge factor that her father is rarely home to raise her right. And her mother... well women are only capable of so much.

But that’s a concern for another moment. Right now, you know what to do. You know what women respond to. You walk toward her.

Suddenly realizing you're in her room, she looks over at you and her mom, “Oh, hi! I’m in the middle of…”

You slap her hard across the face. She never sees it coming and falls to the floor hard. You shove her phone setup down the the ground with a crash.

You squat down by her as tears start quickly forming in her eyes. She's clearly confused. “Mom?” She looks over to her mother (who certainly can't help her). But you wonder if Susan will try; if she expected things to get so rough so soon. If she interferes, she may also need to be shown who’s in charge here.

You glance back at her. She’s watching with interest, but making no attempt to intervene. Excellent.

“Don’t look at her. Look at me.” You demand and Paisley does so. “Your mother told me to help straighten you out. And that’s what we’re going to do, understand?” Paisley doesn’t nod, but you see her face come to the realization of what’s going on. So you continue. “Now, tell me: how many girls have you kissed?”

“None… I mean just one…” You can see her sad, inferior slut mind racing, trying to keep up with what’s going on.

You thrust your hand down the front of her shorts and grab her pussy. You can feel a wisp of bush. Another fucking disappointment.

She gasps in pain, her soft lips parting wide in shock. She squirms but there's no getting away. Like all true American men, you know how to grab a pussy and make it submit to your will. Paisley is no different. “Three… it was three girls…”

“What else? Have you been eating any filthy twat?” You thrust your middle and ring fingers inside her, and pump them rhythmically. She's tight and wet, and getting wetter. Her foolish brain may think she doesn't like what's happening here, but her body, and her inherent need to submit to men, knows what she really wants.

“No! I swear! I’m not like that!” She sobs.

“Oh, you’re not?” You say in a mocking tone. “So, you really want to be a good American slut and serve men?”

“Of course!” Paisley insists, still trying to pull her young twat away from your thrusting fingers.

“Then why are you resisting me?” Quickly, you pull your fingers out of her, grab her shorts and panties, pull them down to her knees, then push your hand right back inside her, all 4 fingers this time.

“I... don’t know.” Paisley barely gets out as she shivers at the sensation.

“And that’s why it doesn’t make sense for two bitches to have sex." You explain, "Because women don’t know what they want. They’re too dumb to understand sex without a man’s direction." Paisley's entire petite body twitches on your hand, as if slowly becoming your puppet. You continue your less, "For example, by now you really should have realized that you need to have pulled off that top so I could see your nice fucking tits.”

The girl looks at you stupidly, mouth open, lip trembling. It takes a long while for her to realize you just gave her an order. But she finally gets it and quickly pulls her top up over her head, revealing her nice, pale, teenage tits, and big, hard, pink nipples.

You smile, but not too big. After all, it'll going to take a lot more before you're pleased with Paisley's progress. You take your soaked hand from her twat again, raise it up to her face. She seems unsure what you want from her, though opens her lips and leans in toward your fingers. It’s a good sign that she’s learning (if slowly). But that’s not what you want. Instead you slip your hand into her red hair and wipe it dry.

Being allowed to keep her red hair is also clearly a problem. If you were in charge of this family, things would be different. It's kind of pathetic that the man of this house has done such a bad job that you have to come here and fix things.

“This is how sex works. The man makes the decisions and the bitch obeys, understand?” You say.

Paisley nods weakly.

You slap her again. Hard. Her red hair flies across her face and she looks at you in shock. The soft flesh on her cheek goes red. She doesn’t understand why you’ve just hit her again. She still has a lot to learn.

"What did you do wrong?" You ask sadistically, your cock thick and throbbing in your pants. If you were doing this for your own pleasure, the girl would already be a naked mess, taking you in every hole. But you're doing this for your country, not your cock.

Paisley is clearly confused. She doesn't know what she did wrong.

“Don’t just nod like a dumb cunt. Show him you understand.” Susan finally chimes in. She’s been watching intently, sitting on Paisley's pink bed a few feet away, her hands rubbing her thighs beneath her dress. She clearly approves of your methods.

Paisley is breathing hard now. Her small frame heaves up and down. She gazes at you intensely “Please, sir. Please tell me what to do. I’m too dumb to figure it out on my own. I need a man. I need a man to tell me so bad.”

Now this is progress.

You consider telling her to spread her legs and finally take a man's cock, but the situation doesn’t call for something quite so vanilla. If she’s already pushed her tongue into three girls’ mouths (including your own daughter) then she needs a harsher lesson.

You know exactly what to tell her to do.