Check out the Car

You head over to the car and find nothing unusual about it. So you turn toward the house. It’s not your house (and even when Jim gets removed from the picture, it’ll go back to the bank) but you feel entitled to just walk right in.

Susan and Paisley, looking barely recovered from last night, their faces and flesh still a mess (Paisley’s whore makeup now worn) are sitting at the kitchen table, talking to a blonde woman who you recognize. All three woman sense your presence in the house and look over.

The woman jumps up and extends her hand. “Good morning. I’m Candy Carruthers from America First Network.” (News Reporter is one of the few jobs women are still allowed to have). You shake her hand. It’s soft and limp. “The full crew is coming later, but right now I’m conducting a background interview on the social media post that blew up last night. I take it you’re the man who gave Paisley what she calls ‘the greatest patriotic lesson of her life’”

You nod slowly. You’re suspicious, not sure you like the idea of these two women getting attention without your approval first. But they probably still think they belong to Jack. No one knows of your grand plan yet.

“Mind if I ask you some questions?” Candy says.

You also don’t really like the idea of being questioned by a dumb broad in a tight skirt but you agree hesitantly and sit at the table.

“So which of Paisley’s posts made you decide that she needed to learn a patriotic lesson?”

“Posts?” You have no answer. You don’t really understand the question.

“Aren’t you aware that she’s an influencer with millions of followers?” Candy asks. You don’t like the tone of the question. You also don’t like living in a world where a girl of Paisley’s age and ignorance is considered influential. Candy asks another question . “Then what inspired you to act?”

“Well, her mother told me…"

“So it was her mother’s idea.” She says, insinuating that you did what you did because a woman told you.

You feel your body stiffen. “That’s not what I said.” You say defensively. “It was my idea…”

“What does that mean exactly?” She asks as your frustration at having to justify yourself grows. “Can you explain yourself?”

Fuck this! Who is she to ask you to explain yourself? You leap up from your chair, knocking it to the ground with a thud. Before Candy can figure out what’s happening, your hands are on her, pushing her to her knees in front of you. “Yeah I’ll explain myself. I’m a man. So what I say goes. Clear enough?”

Candy’s eyes bulge wide in shock. She tries to resist but there’s absolutely no way she has the strength to push you off.

“Here I’ll show you.” You look over at Susan and give her a command. “Fist fuck this blonde bitch’s ass!”

Susan, so naturally obedient, jumps into action, quickly squatting herself behind Candy and reaching her hand up the bottom of the reporter’s tight skirt.

Your hands quickly slide from Candy's shoulders to around her neck and you lean down close to her face. “The man is always in charge” you say just before spitting on her eye. “How’s that for an explanation?”

You feel her body squirm and tighten as Susan attempts to violate her asshole. Candy’s face turns red and sweaty very fast. She starts to gasp.

Paisley just watches, jaw open in amazement and probably admiration at the sight of a real man doing a man’s job.

But Susan is running into trouble. “I can’t… get more than three fingers in. I’m sorry, sir.”

You let out a laugh. “I guess that means you sucked your way into this job then.”

Candy can barely breathe. Mascara-stained tears quickly roll down her face. “Y...yes…”

“How many?" You ask. How many cocks have you slobbered on?"

“I don’t… total or just for the job? I’m confused.” Candy says, giving herself over to your strength as you knew she always would.

“Of course you’re confused.” You say. “You’re a dumb bitch. Now answer my question!”

“Forty… five, I guess.”

“Ugh… fucking filth.” You say, letting go of her neck so you can slap her hard across the face. Her head flings to the side, but her body doesn't budge. She's no longer trying to escape. Like all of them, deep down she knows what her purpose is. stays kneeling before you as you undo your belt, button and zipper. “Don’t get your hopes up. This won’t be forty six. I don’t want your whore mouth on my cock. But you can have my taint.”

You lift up your manhood and nutsack and bring them down with **** on her, thrusting forward to make sure your smelly taint rubs hard against her once-pretty face, making an even bigger mess of her makeup.

Susan watches, licking her ass-covered fingers. Paisley still watches too. You hadn’t noticed before but she’s not wearing any pants, just panties which are soaking wet. She rubs at her thighs, clearly turned on and aching at the scene playing out before her, but knowing she can’t act to please herself without your approval.

Once you've sufficiently degraded Candy Carruthers' famous face, you grab her by the neck again and lift her up. "Now here's what you're going to do. You're not coming back with a crew. You're not going to bother us any more. You're going to file your report looking just like you do right now, and tell the world about all the cocks it took to get a job that a man deserved more. Got it?"

She just gazes at you. You decide to be kind and give her inferior brain a few extra seconds to process all this.

Finally she answers quietly. "Yes... sir."

You send her on her way, then turn your attention to Paisley and Susan. "No more shit like this without my approval." They look at you with obedient, but confused eyes. "You're both mine now. Jim isn't coming back. Get it?"

"Yes sir." They answer almost in unison, both cracking a smile.

Fuck your cock is hard and throbbing. You should have shoved it into the reporters ass, and shown her just how useful her body could be if she let a man have his way.

Oh well, if you need to empty your cock, you have two nice options right before you, don't you?