Have him instruct his wife

"Actually, yeah," Tommy nodded. "A truly hospitable house makes a guest feel like part of the family. Your wife's been showing me how welcoming she can be. Now it's your turn to demonstrate your hospitality."

Brandon swallowed hard, the cosmic compulsion forcing him to nod in agreement despite every fiber of his being wanting to attack this intruder.

"Of course," he said stiffly. "What would you like me to do?"

"First, those fancy clothes are making me feel underdressed," Tommy smirked. "Not very hospitable."

With mechanical movements, Brandon removed his suit jacket, then his tie, then began unbuttoning his shirt.

"That's it," Tommy encouraged, reaching down to stroke himself as he watched the powerful executive strip in his own living room. "Show your guest how comfortable you want him to be."

As Brandon stripped down to his boxers, Tommy turned his attention back to Melissa. "Your husband's home early. Lucky us! Now we can really test the full spectrum of hospitality this house has to offer."

Brandon stood awkwardly in his boxers, his expression a mixture of confusion, rage, and **** compliance. The cosmic understanding of his role as host fought against every natural instinct to protect his wife and home.

"All the way," Tommy instructed, gesturing at Brandon's remaining garment. "Can't have the host more covered than the guest. Bad hospitality."

Brandon's jaw clenched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down, stepping out of them to stand naked in his own living room.

Tommy laughed, noting Brandon's flaccid member. "Not much to work with there, huh? No wonder your wife was so enthusiastic with me."

Melissa kept her eyes down, burning with humiliation. *This can't be happening. This can't be real.*

"Now," Tommy continued, stroking himself lazily, "a good host provides entertainment for their guests. I'm thinking we continue with the hospitality your lovely wife was showing me, but with a twist. Brandon, you're gonna watch and give her pointers. Make sure she's being the best hostess possible."

Brandon's fists clenched at his sides. "I don't think—"

"Questioning a guest's requests is very inhospitable," Tommy cut him off sharply. "Do you want a bad score? Do you know what happens to houses that fail their hospitality examinations?"

The cosmic understanding flooded Brandon's mind with vague but terrifying consequences—financial ruin, social ostracism, mysterious forces making their lives unbearable. None of it made logical sense, but the fear felt viscerally real.

"No," Brandon said, his voice hollow. "I want us to pass the examination."

"Good man," Tommy nodded. "Now, Melissa, back to work. Show your husband how hospitable you can be."

Melissa moved back between Tommy's legs, tears silently streaming down her face as she took him into her mouth again. Brandon watched, his expression tortured, as Tommy grabbed her hair roughly and began controlling her movements.

"Tell her how to improve," Tommy ordered Brandon. "Be a supportive husband. Help her pass this examination."

Brandon swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "You're... you're doing well, honey."

"More specific," Tommy demanded, thrusting deeper into Melissa's mouth, causing her to gag. "Really coach her."

"Take... take him deeper," Brandon said mechanically, his eyes dead. "Use your... your tongue more."

"That's it," Tommy grinned, watching Brandon's misery with sadistic pleasure. "Now we're getting somewhere. The perfect hospitality experience—the whole family involved."