Wait and see

15 minutes later Emilie left her room. Tears were running down her cheeks, but of course she was not allowed to cry vocally, so she remained quiet about it. She walked with a soft limb due to the five smacks she had gotten right on her pussy for having slacked on her tongue hygiene, as her mother had found out in her extensive test. Her hand was on her right breast, since her mother had found the position of pinching her clit too uncomfortable after a few minutes and had switched to her nipple for something to "make sure her mouth stayed open" with.

She walked past the photo hanging in front of her room and shivered. It had been taken on her 18th birthday and it showed her with her father and mother. Each of them had grabbed a leg of her back then - and also right now - naked body and lifted her up, spreading her wide for the camera. The very center of the picture was her pussy, openly inviting anyone to look at it. The fourth person in the picture she still didn't know the name of. It was a helper of the photograph who had stated that she might need help giving the right expression for the shot. So when the photograph had asked them to "say cheese", he had stood behind her, reached around and pinched both of her nipples hard, while twisting them. The picture had resulted in her having her eyes wide open, her mouth in the process of opening to scream from the shock and pain, and her breasts being groped.

Ironically, her smooth long dark blonde hair was covering the assistants face almost completely, so on the picture it was just a pair of hands coming from behind and groping her, as if they were those of a ghost.

"How fitting" she thought, given how her mutation was also acting ghost like while pushing her into these situations continuously. "Anyway" she spoke out loud as she went on towards the bathroom to do her morning hygiene as just wished for by her mothers current string.

The strings were her way of classifying the behavioral types her parents - as well as others - fell into. She understood her power quite well, but rarely if ever used it actively. She could at this point very easily identify the strings that she attached to people passively though. They didn't act in a normal way but more like they were puppets, that were pulled and made to act in certain ways. Like on strings.

And the string her mother was being pulled by today was one she had quite frequently. Emilie liked to call it the 'Motherbeast'. Anything she normally felt a motherly thing to do was amplified to the **** and also sexualized in the process. She didn't even know if her mother was aware of it, or if in her mind she just did a normal thing of waking up her daughter and sending her to the bathroom. Then again, Emilie had a free period in the first one today, so she would not have had to get up before 8 am, and her mother knew this, so who could really tell how much was conscious and how much wasn't.

Half an hour later she left the bathroom again, being finished with everything and having been interrupted only once as her mother came in while she showered - of course Emilie had been not only forbidden from locking the door, but had to outright keep it open. The same went for all doors really.
Her mother had watched her shower for a few seconds before arguing that her still sore and red nipple was only looking like this because Emilie was not cleaning it properly, so she insisted that her daughter let her do it. Of course she readily did so with her mouth by kissing, sucking and also - and mostly - biting it both gently and harshly. After being done after just a minute or two, her mother informed her that this was indeed her own fault - despite admitting that it was not dirty, but just deformed from her earlier treatment. In Noras eyes, this meant that Emilie should now treat her other nipple the same way, so that they looked equal again, just to make sure people wouldn't confuse it for being unclean, due to the difference in look. Reluctantly Emilie had obeyed.

As she left the bathroom - the shower had thankfully cleaned her face of the tears, that for some reason seemed to trigger a lot of people to 'care for her' in ways she really did not want to be cared for - she sighed heavily. She had to make a decision now, as every day, and each day it was a coin flip. Was she to get dressed before going down for breakfast or not. She had been punished for both choices before, but also had been told it was the right one occasionally - again, for both options. It heavily depended on what type of breakfast it was going to be. Those where she had to sit on her fathers lap, while he stabilized her body by grabbing her breasts were usually insisted on her being naked. The same for those where she was under the table and had to eat either out of a dog bowl or just lick it from her parents genitals. At other times, when she was standing at the table while bending over and eating - usually while being spanked - she had learned that clothes were actually preferred, though short skirts were the only thing she was not additionally punished for. She decided to be hopeful and put on some clothes. If only to hide her nipples and not give more attention to the overly sore spots.

She came down the stairs ten minutes later in a mini skirt that was certain to ride up and reveal everything - even without her bending over - frequently, and a top that was 'only' 1 size too small and therefore was one of her widest outfits. She regretted her choice of putting on clothes for a bit but in the end it probably was the better choice. Of course underwear was banned for her - it had been for a while.

The choice was obviously the correct one though, since as she entered the kitchen she saw 2 chairs occupied. One by her mother and the other by someone she had never seen in real life, but did know from the news. Her father, to her shock, was standing behind the spot where she usually sat to eat, and was doing so fully naked while standing with his cock facing the wall away from the table.

"Ah, Emilie" Her mother shouted out to her. "This is..."