Diet
by Pan
Chapter 51
Everything changed after that. Whenever the three of us were in the same room, we’d be using each other for our mutual pleasure. I’d fuck Cynthia’s face while making out with Mom, or I’d unload onto Mom’s body and make Cynthia clean it up. I’d finger-fuck Cynthia while Mom took my cock in her mouth, or I’d push Cynthia onto the bed and cum onto Mom’s back while she ate her daughter’s cunt.
It was incredible. Every moment of it. The sights, the smells, the tastes...and, of course, the orgasms. Not just mine, but Mom’s as well: long, musky, loud.
Cynthia never came. I’d made it very clear to her; if she came, if she looked like she was enjoying it, it could all end. This was a punishment for Mom—none of it was for her pleasure.
My sister drank my words in. “I will not cum,” she chanted: not just while she was under, but every day as she edged. “I will not cum. I will not cum.”
It had taken months, but I’d finally done it. I’d completely trained my sister. She would have done anything I commanded. Anything. If I’d ordered her to eat my ass for eight hours straight, she wouldn’t have hesitated. If I’d told her I was going to fuck her and put the video online, she would have thanked me for the privilege.
She was completely and utterly (and udderly, for that matter) under my control.
That just left Mom.
After all we’d done, after all Mom had allowed us to do...you’d think there would be no barriers left, no sexual continents left to conquer.
But Mom still wouldn’t let me fuck her.
Or my sister. Despite all we did, despite all she did, Mom still wouldn’t allow her son and daughter to have sex. Like, full sex. Penis-in-vagina intercourse.
But I wasn’t worried. As I looked what I’d accomplished, as I saw how far I’d come (and where, and how many times...) I knew that final barrier was nothing compared to the ones I’d already conquered.
I knew I could break through any resistance my mother threw at me.
And in the meantime, I was having a helluva lot of fun.
Even though we couldn’t move past hands and mouths, even though there were only three of us (which I guess is already one more than your average sexual interaction) (two more than everything I’d had up until recently, actually) it was always different. There was no repetition. No monotony.
One day, Mom would be in the middle of our little fuck-puddle (well, technically our fuckless-puddle). She’d be the center of attention, my mouth on her tits, my sister making out with her, both of us playing with her trembling cunt.
Other times, Cynthia would be the focus of our attention, her face dripping with my cum as Mom licked her clean.
But more often than not, I’d be the family member getting the action. My mother sucking my cock while my tongue dued with Cynthia’s. Sitting on the couch enjoying the two women kissing my neck, their hands wrapped around my cock.
Half the time we’d go to bed together, naked and sweaty, our bodies intertwined. We’d wake up in the morning, still naked, still sweaty, still joined. Once or twice I wondered what would happen if I just fucked Mom while she slept; if she woke up to my cock inside her...but when I raised it as a possibility while she was under, she began twitching so furiously, I had to spank her to orgasm just to make her calm down.
So I didn’t push it. Instead, I experimented with what I could do. Trips outside the house—dressing my mother and sister like sluts and parading them through a grocery store, taking them to a diner. We even visited a nightclub together, in a seedy part of town where I knew no one would recognize us: Mom and Cynthia dressed in short party dresses, grinding and rubbing on me all night.
Mom didn’t say a word as I took Cynthia to the girl’s bathroom and fucked her face. When she came back, my sister drew the attention of half the club, making out with her mother (not that they knew that, of course), forcing Mom to taste her son’s cum on her daughter’s lips.
And then there were the punishments.
Besides the constant incest which was technically Mom’s punishment, I was still disciplining the girls for even the slightest infraction. They didn’t even need to be diet-related; Mom got punished being thirty seconds late cooking dinner. Cynthia was punished for not wearing her hair the exact way I wanted her to. Even though I’d never mentioned it.
“You deserve this,” I’d remind them. Cynthia’s eyes would cloud with lust as she nodded, Mom would look guilty.
But neither of them refuted it. They both knew they needed to be punished. They both knew this was what they deserved.
Even better: the punishments could be overtly sexual. I didn’t need to mask it anymore.
I’d fuck Mom’s face while she was tied up, weights hanging from her nipples. I put Cynthia in a collar, forbidding her to speak, treating her like a pet.
A pet whose job was to pleasure Mom and I with her mouth at every opportunity.
I’d whip Cynthia, while Mom went down on her. I’d spank Mom as she jerked me off, timing her orgasm to mine. I ran electric volts through both their bodies as they went down on each other, zapping them harder as they got closer to orgasm.
BDSM, pleasure, pain, incest...it had all blurred together in one incredible, sexual haze.
And that was before I worked out what to do next.
You see, I was still putting Mom and my sister under. I wasn’t even fucking Cynthia, not any more. I didn’t need to. Slipping my cock into her unconscious body paled in comparison to having her choke on my cock while Mom watched, desperately rubbing myself. Pounding into my sister’s wet cunt was amazing, obviously, but I’d much rather fuck Mom’s huge tits while Cynthia sat on her face, resolutely refusing to orgasm.
I loved fucking Cynthia, but it didn’t hold a candle to...well, making her hold a candle in her pussy, squirming and moaning as the hot wax dripped onto her clean-shaven lips, while Mom jerked me off onto her face.
Yeah. My life was everything I’d ever dreamed of.
So why was I putting them under?
Because, like a Disney princess, I wanted more.
“You’re so hot,” I told Mom, my hand raining down on her bare ass. “You’re so beautiful.”
She trembled with pleasure and pain as I spanked her. She was under...not that she needed to be, for me to spank her bare ass. Short of sticking my dick into her downstairs holes, there was very little she wouldn’t let me do while she was awake.
I wouldn’t even have needed an excuse. I could have just told her to bend over and she would’ve let me spank her to orgasm, any time of the day or night.
But I found spanking her while she was under made her that little bit more pliable.
Not that I even needed an excuse. I liked spanking Mom. Believe me, if you had the chance…you’d like it to.
“You’re so sexy,” I said. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. “I love your body.”
She whimpered and moaned in response.
“You’ve done such a good job with your fitness regime,” I told her. SMACK. “You’re so fit. So fucking sexy. Say it.”
“I’m...I’m sexy,” she whispered.
“Again.”
“I’m sexy!”
SMACK.
“Again!”
“I’m so fucking sexy!”
SMACK. “More.”
“I’m so fit! I’m…I’m hot. I’m a sexy…I’m a MILF.”
I smiled at that. I don’t know where Mom had gotten the term, but it was true.
She was a MILF. She was my MILF. And I did indeed LFing her.
“Good girl,” I said, pulling my arm back once more…then pausing.
Mom arched her back as though she was trying to raise her ass up high enough for me to hit her again. Her huge boobs were pressing into my legs...I knew I’d be fucking her massive tits later.
Hell, I could’ve fucked them now if I wanted. I had access to almost every part of my mother’s body, anytime I wanted.
“You’re hot,” I agreed. SMACK. “You’re sexy.” SMACK. “You’re fit.” SMACK. “You’re a MILF.”
Again, I paused. Again, Mom acted like I’d dangled her favorite food in front of her then taking it away.
Once I felt like I’d strung it out long enough, I continued.
“You’re hot,” I whispered. ”…but Cynthia is hotter.”
Mom blinked twice, her dazed eyes trying to process what I was saying. What I was pointing out, and why.
“You’ve noticed, haven’t you? Be honest.”
“Y-yes,” Mom stammered. “I’ve noticed.”
“Tell me how hot your daughter is.”
Even a few weeks ago, that command would have been Mom at least a little uncomfortable. But things had changed.
Mom knew that the incest was a punishment, intellectually. She knew that we were doing it to make her feel bad. Because she deserved it.
But…I mean, Cynthia and I made her cum on a daily basis. No, more than daily. Several times a day, Mom’s two kids brought her to constant, screaming, sometimes-squirting orgasms.
On one level, she hated it. But on so many more, she loved it.
She loved it, and she hadn’t even noticed how much it had changed her limits.
When someone has given you dozens of orgasms, it doesn’t really make sense to draw the line at ‘describing how hot they are.’ And even if it did: while she was under, spanked most of the way to orgasm, Mom wasn’t in a position to resist much.
Soon, she’d be resisting nothing.
“Cynthia is...she’s so sexy,” Mom moaned. “She has such big tits. Her skin is so soft. And her ass...I can’t believe how perfect it is.”
“What do you like best about her?” I asked, moving my hand to my mother’s tender butt and caressing it.
“Her face,” Mom said firmly, and I rolled my eyes.
SMACK.
“Don’t lie,” I ordered. “What turns you on about her the most?”
“Her...her mouth,” Mom shuddered. I held back from spanking her again.
“Oh?”
“It tastes so good,” Mom whispered, her face going red. Even after all we’d done, even after all-but-fucking her teenaged children, I was impressed that Mom was still able to feel shame about any of this. “I’ve...I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl. Ever since I was a teenager”
Even after all we’d done, Mom still had the capacity to surprise me.
“What else?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“It feels so good on my...on my pussy,” Mom confessed. “She makes me...makes me finish so hard with her tongue.”
I had been expecting her to move onto another body part, but it seemed Mom still had more to say about my sister’s mouth, so I let her continue.
“Sometimes when...when she’s going down on you...”—Mom’s voice was barely a whisper, and I leaned in close to hear what she had to say—“I get a little jealous.”
“You wish you were the one sucking me off?”
“No,” Mom said, shaking her head gently. “I wish it was her mouth on me. I imagine her lips are wrapped around my clit,” Mom gasped. “I imagine her tongue is licking my pussy.”
You have to remember, this is something that happened daily. Mom could have Cynthia’s mouth on her cunt any time she wanted...but she apparently still got jealous for the few moments her daughter was pleasuring anyone else.
I have no idea why that made me as hard as it did, but I wasn’t complaining.
“Sometimes when I’m alone in my bed,” Mom admitted, “I...I touch myself, thinking about Cynthia’s mouth.”
“You dirty bird,” I groaned, giving Mom’s ass a hard smack. “You sick, disgusting woman. That’s your daughter.“
Smack. SMACK. SMACK!
“You’re a pervert,” I groaned, my cock twitching, as I imagined Mom fantasizing about her daughter late at night. “You’re disgusting.”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK!
I’ve gotten pretty good at telling when my mother is about to cum—just before the moment of release, I stopped. Mom twitched and shivered in frustration, silently begging me to continue, non-verbally pleading with me to bring her to orgasm with my hand.
“And you’re right,” I hissed, pulling Mom’s hair hard enough to yank her head back. I knew that it hurt, but not enough to make her cum. She shivered, her breasts squishing against my thighs. “Cynthia is so sexy. She’s so fucking hot. Her ass, her tits, her mouth...her pussy. It tastes great, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Mom moaned. “It tastes so good.”
“And it’s so tight,” I said. My nails weren’t long, but I dug them into Mom’s back, which arched in response to the pain. “So tight. So wet. Say it.“
“Cynthia is...she’s...she’s so tight!” Mom shuddered.
“It’s sexy, isn’t it?”
“So sexy. So...so tight.”
I let go of Mom’s hair, and her face hit my thigh with a thud. I pressed my fingers into her sore butt as I delivered the final blow.
“Not like you,” I spat. Mom’s glazed eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. “Not like your saggy, middle-aged pussy.”
I could practically taste the hurt in Mom’s face. It fueled me as I continued, my voice a low whisper.
“Your cunt is loose, Mom. Say it.”
“My...I’m....”
“Say it,” I thundered, my hand landing hard on her bruised ass. SMACK.
“My cunt is loose,” Mom gasped.
Just to be clear: it wasn’t. I mean, Mom hadn’t had sex since Dad died. And I’d had the foresight to work a bunch of pelvic exercises into her routine.
No, she wasn’t as tight as Cynthia, but it wasn’t like she was sporting a wizard’s sleeve down there.
But I knew this was something she was insecure about. Being old. Saggy.
Loose.
“Again,” I ordered, bringing my hand down on her rump once more. SMACK.
“My cunt is...is loose. Oh...”
Pain. Sadness. Arousal. Just like Cynthia, Mom was starting to blend the feelings together.
“You’re all washed up, aren’t you?”
“No!” Mom objected. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“Say it!”
“I’m...I’m all washed up!”
“You can’t compared to a hot piece of ass like Cynthia, can you?”
“N-no,” Mom replied, blinking back tears.
“You said it yourself—she’s perfect. What are you?”
“I’m...I’m sexy?”
“No.”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
Mom was starting to blubber, but I didn’t hold back.
“You’re fat,” I said flatly. SMACK. “Cynthia is young.” SMACK. ”Hot.” SMACK. “Thin. And what are you?“
“I’m...I’m old,” Mom sobbed.
SMACK.
“That’s right.”
SMACK. SMACK.
“I’m past my prime.”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“I’m fat,” Mom declared in a wail, and with one more perfectly-placed blow to her glowing ass, my mother came, twitching and moaning as tears streamed down her face.
I sat back with a smug smile, but to my surprise, Mom didn’t stop. She’d cum before, but this was different. I had really fucked her up this time. Her orgasm lasted for several minutes, longer than any I’d seen her have. Her body shook and convulsed in pleasure and confusion.
It was an incredibly satisfying sight.
Mom eventually stopped coming. I stroked my hands up and down her sweaty back as we sat in a long silence.
“You’re fat,” I finally whispered. My mother nodded, too wiped to argue back. “Say it.”
“I’m fat.” Her voice was soft, her face was flushed red.
“You’re ugly,” I said, giving Mom’s butt another light smack. “You’re old. You’re ugly. Your cunt is loose. Cynthia is better than you in every way, isn’t she?”
Mom nodded, completely accepting everything I was saying. It felt like I was talking directly into her unconscious brain. All her filters were down.
“So you’re going to have to work twice as hard to compete with her, aren’t you?”
“…yes.”
“You’re going to have to be better in bed. More exciting. You’re going to do everything you can to please your son, aren’t you?”
“…yes.”
“Your daughter is sexier. Younger. Hotter. So you’ll have to really pull out all the stops, won’t you?”
“Uh huh...” Mom replied weakly, and I nodded. I’d been doing this long enough to know when I’d gotten my message across.
“Good,” I said. “Now, roll over. I want to fuck your tits.”
Mom was trembling as she obeyed. Sobbing. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy.
But she obeyed.
Cynthia, and this shouldn’t be a surprise, was much easier to convince. Mom had truly gone through a transformation—I think it’s fair to say that she’d been fat when we started, but by almost managing to follow an impossible workout routine (and, of course, mostly sticking to her diet) she was probably in the best shape of her life.
Her tits were still huge, though not as large as Cynthia’s—or as big as when she’d been fatter. After fucking Mom’s tits and unloading onto her face, I’d spent a moment admiring her body. She didn’t have a six-pack or anything like that, but her stomach was flat and firm, her arms toned and strong. She was more than just ‘not fat’—she was fit.
Cynthia had lost a little weight too (not from her tits, thankfully) but the changes to her body had been subtler. More definition, more tone. Her ass was a little firmer, her legs a tiny bit more muscular.
And, of course, now she spent all her days naked, her hands and mouth wrapped around my cock. That was probably the biggest change. And my favorite.
But seriously—it just wasn’t a drastic change. Cynthia had started smoking hot, and now she was very slightly smokingly hotter.
“You’re disgusting,” I told her, and she nodded without hesitation, an almost imperceivable shiver running through her body. “Say it.”
“I’m disgusting,” Cynthia replied, loud and firm.
“Your mother has transformed her life with my help. What have you done?”
“Nothing,” my sister admitted, and I hid a smile. My “help” had transformed Cynthia from a normal teenage girl (with a well-above-average body and slightly-below-average self-esteem) to my own dedicated sex slave, constantly debasing herself, edging, subjecting herself to whatever punishment I felt like handing out.
And that’s before you mention the incest obsession. Oh, and the incest. The hours and hours of brother-sister, mother-daughter incest she partook in every day.
“That’s right,” I nodded. “Nothing. Zero changes since I started helping you.”
Cynthia stared forward, her eyes unfocussed, her naked body breathing steadily. I ran my eyes up and down her form...god she was divine. Her tits were bigger than her head, just crying out to be played with. Sucked on. Fucked. Her body was slim and toned, her skin soft and smooth. Her pussy was perfectly shaved, sopping wet, glistening with arousal.
She was everything I could ever want. She was anything anyone could ever want.
She was perfect.
“You’re worthless,” I said.
“Yes, sir. I know.”
Her words drew my attention to her mouth. I could see why Mom was so obsessed with it. Her lips were pink and plump, her tongue wet and shiny. It was almost impossible to look at that mouth without imagining your cock sliding inside it, those perfect lips parting, wrapping around you, her tongue coming out to play.
She was a goddess, and I was the lowly mortal who had made her mine.
Of course, once you make a goddess yours, aren’t you definitionally…a god?
“So what are you going to do about it?” I asked, and a look of fear and sadness flickered across my sister’s face.
“I...I don’t know,” she admitted.
I moved closer, leaning down and letting my cock touch Cynthia’s face. I’d fucked her face while she was under; it was nothing compared to the real thing, of course. Nothing was like getting head from my sister when she was awake, putting everything she had into it.
Putting that perfect mouth of hers to use.
“You’re going to have to work twice as hard to compete with your mother,” I told her.
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s sexier than you’ll ever be, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir.”
If Cynthia was disappointed, it wasn’t apparent in her tone. I’d spent so long beating this drum,..I suppose by now she’d just accepted it.
She’d accepted her place.
“Tell me what you like about Mom’s body,” I ordered. “Tell me what you like about Mom.”
“I like how much she turns my brother on,” Cynthia replied without hesitation. “I like that he gets hard looking at her. Touching her.”
I smiled. Mom’s answers had been selfish: about her pleasure. My sister was being just as honest, but her responses were all about me. She was completely, utterly devoted to my pleasure.
This was what a woman should be. This was what Mom would be.
“What else?”
“I love watching my brother fuck her face. Watching her beg for it. Seeing how much he enjoys her.”
“Why do you like that?”
“Because...because she’s our mother. Because it confirms that he can have anyone. He’s her son, and she’s completely dedicated to his pleasure.”
I opened my mouth to continue, but so did Cynthia. I paused, and so did she.
“Go on,” I ordered.
“And...”
Cynthia blushed; again, a rare sight. I’d plumbed the depths of my sister’s depravity and low self-esteem. We’d talked about her most perverted fantasies, and I’d firmly stomped on the last few scraps of her self-worth. What did she have left to blush about?
“...and it makes me wonder if someday, my brother would look at me like that.”
I smiled. Hope.
My sister’s soul had been so thoroughly shredded, the thing that made her feel ashamed was hope.
She felt guilty for being hopeful.
Now, this was where I’d normally tell her she was wrong: that nothing she ever did could make her rise above a 3. She’d once approached a 7; now, she would’ve sworn a vow of silence for the chance to hit 3.5
But her hope was useful. I knew exactly what I was going to do with it.
And so I let her have it.
“Maybe...” I said thoughtfully. Without moving a muscle, Cynthia’s face lit up.
Hell, her entire body lit up.
“R-really?” she stammered, like I’d just told her Hogwarts was real, that she was a witch and her letter had just been lost in the mail for all these years.
“Really,” I confirmed, and her entire body flushed. For a moment I wondered if she’d had a silent orgasm; if the news that someday her brother might look at her with lust was enough to get her off.
For a moment I wondered, then realized that I didn’t need to wonder. I’d never need to wonder again.
“Did you just cum?”
“No, sir,” Cynthia replied, and I knew she was being honest. She’d never lie to me.
She was my good girl.
Not that I’d ever let her know, of course.
“You’ve got a long way to go,” I warned. “And your brother has Mom. If you want any chance at getting his attention, you’re going to have to show her up. Be better than her.”
“B-but...”
I held up a hand, and Cynthia fell silent.
“It won’t be easy,” I said. “You’re going to have to pull out all the stops. You know what your brother likes—it’s up to you to show him that whatever Mom does, you can do better. That you can be more exciting. More kinky. More slutty. More everything.”
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia whispered.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to show my brother that I can be better than Mom.”
“Good girl,” I said, throwing her a bone. There it was again—that red flush, spreading across her entire body.
So that’s what the next few weeks looked like. When my girls (and at this point, they were well and truly my girls) were awake, they were competing for my attention. Trying to prove that they were more worthy of my dick than the other.
When they were under, I was stoking the fires. Encouraging them to go further. To devote more time to learning what turned me on. To better turn themselves into perfect objects of lust. To be more aggressive, to try new things, to be more daring.
And it was working.
The start of that month looked much like the previous. I’d wake up entangled with a family member, or to the sound of Mom cumming. Now that I was looking for it, I really could see how obsessed she was with her daughter’s mouth—at every opportunity she’d kiss it, push it between her legs, or just stare at Cynthia throughout the day, as my sister ate, bit her lip..or sucked my cock.
Multiple times a day, the three of us would get together. I’d spray my cum onto their naked tits and watch as they licked each other clean. Cynthia would go down on Mom while jerking me off. Mom would switch her mouth between my hardness and Cynthia’s wet cunt. Half the time when I entered a room, I’d walk in on Cynthia’s face buried in Mom’s pussy—or vice-versa.
And then, of course, there were the punishments. The endless, endless punishments.
I had Cynthia carry a wooden ruler around: whenever I felt like she’d broken any of my infinite unspoken rules, she had to present it to me and beg me to use it on her. Mom would watch in shock as I struck her daughter’s breasts, her thigh, her stomach. One time I hit her nipples until they bled, then had Mom suckle on them like a baby. Or a vampire. Like a baby vampire.
Mom’s punishments were humiliation-focused. I made her get a reddit account and start posting her naked body for the internet’s pleasure. She never showed her face, of course, or anything that could be used to identify her—but as I made her read the dozens of horny (and occasionally cruel) comments aloud to me while Cynthia sucked my cock, I’d tell Mom how popular the site was. I’d tell her that there were probably people from her work who recognized her—that my childhood friends were probably looking at her, whacking off at the sight of her naked body.
I don’t honestly know if she saw it as worse than fucking her own son and daughter, but I know Mom hated it. Hated it.
Especially when I started taking photos of her being punished. Weights hanging from her pendulous breasts, whip-marks across her back. All posted under her reddit account, for the world to see. She was building quite a following.
So yeah. Business as (what had become) usual.
But even by the end of the first week, I started to notice a subtle shift. A tension between Cynthia and Mom—different to the sexual tension that had become our new norm.
I egged them on, of course. Not only while they were under; while they were awake, too. “You’re so good at sucking cock,” I’d tell Mom as she swallowed me deep into my throat. She’d glow...and Cynthia would bristle. So slightly that Mom probably didn’t even notice.
But I did. I was looking for it.
“God you’re tight,” I’d tell Cynthia, as I curled two fingers inside her. “You’re so tight...“
She gasped with pleasure, and I felt her tunnel tighten around my digits, but I knew she wouldn’t cum. She was my good girl.
I turned to Mom, who quickly tried to mask her look of jealousy. “Come here, Mom,” I ordered. “Come and feel how tight Cynthia is.”
She hesitated, but only for a second. Taking my cock out of her mouth, she stood up—Cynthia was spread-eagled on the kitchen table (we’d been about to eat when I’d decided I wanted to play). I guided Mom’s hand down to Cynthia’s cunt, and she gingerly inserted one finger, then a second.
“That’s it,” I said, “feel how tight she is. Isn’t she so tight?“
“Uh huh,” Mom replied, her teeth clenched.
“It’s so fucking sexy.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Cynthia—there it was again. A fleeting expression of hope. That her brother would truly find her sexy.
That I wasn’t just putting it on to punish Mom.
“Now get back to sucking my cock,” I ordered. “No one sucks cock like you, Mom…”
By the end of the second week, even someone who wasn’t looking for it would have noticed the change. When the three of us were together, Mom and Cynthia barely touched each other...unless I ordered them to.
Their attention was entirely on me. Their mouths, dueling over who got to suck me off. Their tits, jostling to be the one to catch my cum. Their hands, roaming over my body, doing all they could to get me off.
As it should be.
“Oh, fuck! That feels so good,” I’d moan as Mom jerked me off. “Your hands feel so good on my dick, Mom. You’re so much better at this than Cynthia...”
Mom would look smug; Cynthia, defeated.
“Aim me at her tits,” I’d order. “I want to cum on my sister’s huge tits. God, her tits are so big...so much bigger than yours, Mom.”
Cynthia, proud. Mom, resentful.
“I’m cumming! Oh god, Mom, you’re making me cum. You’re making me cum on Cynthia’s huge, perfect tits....”
When I was done, I’d look between their faces. Neither of them knew if they were winning, if they had proven themselves superior to the other. All they knew was pleasure and pain.
As it should be.
“Now eat it,” I’d order. “See who can eat more of my load.”
Their eyes flashed as they raced to swallow down more of my seed, Cynthia pulling her huge tits up to her mouth, Mom using her tongue to noisily up her own son’s offering.
“Good girls,” I’d say, and then it would start all over again.
When I woke up in the morning, it wasn’t to the sound of their lesbian trysts. Every morning I was greeted by a pair of naked bodies pressed against mine. Mom would kiss my cock, then Cynthia would take it into her mouth, or between her tits.
They’d wake me with soft kisses, gentle nips, and their hands caressing my body. Sometimes Mom would stroke my cock while Cynthia sucked me off—sometimes they’d alternate, one giving me head, the other stroking my shaft. I’d made sure they understood that no matter how fierce the competition, making sure I had a good time was always the winning move.
Once, they’d accidentally hurt me in their competition—exactly once. They’d been fighting over who got to jerk me off onto their face (did I mention how much I loved my life?) and both of them had refused to let go of my dick.
Turns out my cock doesn’t bend that way. Well, while it’s hard.
Their punishment for their infraction had been simple: I hadn’t fooled around with them for two days. For a full forty-eight hours, no sex for either of them. Not from me, not from each other.
Well...not while they were conscious, anyway.
By the end of it, Cynthia would have sold her best friends into slavery just to have my hands and mouth on her again. She would’ve shaved her head bald to feel my fingers inside her, my tongue in her cunt.
And I don’t even want to imagine what she would’ve done for the chance to pleasure my cock again. Making me cum was the single greatest joy in my sister’s life; nothing made her as happy as when I came from her hands or mouth. In her, on her, she didn’t care: all that mattered was that she was making me happy.
All that mattered was that she was making me cum.
Mom probably could’ve held out longer...except that I wasn’t spanking her either. For months now, I’d been spanking her daily. Even when the three of us were fooling around, using each other’s body for our pleasure, at least once a day I’d spanked Mom until she came. At least once a day, I’d spank her ass until it was red and swollen.
Going from that to cold turkey?
Yeah. They were both very careful not to hurt me again.
Of course, those forty-eight hours of (conscious) chastity had almost been as much of a punishment for me as it had been for them. I’d fucked my unconscious sister once a day while she was under, and gotten two blowjobs from my hypnotized Mom, but...I dunno, it just wasn’t the same.
By the third week, my pleasure was all they cared about. Don’t get me wrong—Mom’s attraction to her daughter was still there (and while she was under, I did what I could to encourage it), but…what’s the Bible quote?
I am a jealous God.
Mom was my sex slave. Mine. My pleasure, my cock, my orgasm—that had to come first. Before hers. And definitely before Cynthia’s.
My mother and my sister still fooled around with each other, but only when they thought I’d witness it. They still made out with each other, but only so I could watch. And they still got each other off (well, Cynthia got Mom off) but it was so much more performative than ever before. Mom always made sure her body was angled towards me when she came, that I had a great view of her tits as Cynthia brought her to climax after shuddering climax.
Best of all, they’d started to work out what their strengths were. Again, this was something I’d been heavily pushing while they were under—Cynthia still hated her boobs, but she’d noticed the effect it had on me when she talked about how big they were, how much they were aching to be groped and touched and whipped and spanked.
Mom would’ve sold her soul to be twenty years younger, but she used her experience as a weapon.
“Let me do it,” she said smugly as Cynthia gave me head one morning. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: my sister is an incredible cocksucker...but of course, she didn’t know that. And so when Mom stepped in to “correct” her, she had no reason not to believe that the older woman was better at it.
“Thanks, Mom,” I’d replied as she knelt in front of me and took my erection into her mouth.
“Sorry,” Cynthia squeaked. Mom and I exchanged a knowing look.
“It’s okay, honey,” Mom replied, slapping my cock against her cheeks as she replied to her daughter. “It’s all one can expect from a virgin.“
I don’t know what was hotter: the sight of my sweet Mom being a bitch to my sister, or Cynthia’s reaction as Mom and I laughed at her inexperience.
It was only a few minutes before I came down Mom’s throat, so incredibly turned on by the sight of my sister’s pain.
But there was definitely an area where Cynthia had the upper hand: self-control. Even though she hated every minute of her punishments, even though she got no sexual pleasure from them (except for the pleasure of pleasing me), Cynthia could withstand a lot more than Mom could.
Mom’s punishments were brutal, but they were short. She just couldn’t take anything more than a few hours long, especially if pain was involved.
Cynthia’s lasted all day. Her stamina was incredible—I could tie her up in the morning and fill her every hole with toys: even with nothing to eat or drink, even without a break, she’d still be standing at the end of the day, her watering eyes the only sign of the torment I was putting her through.
The sight of my sister with a vibrating, pulsating toy in her pussy, knowing she wasn’t allowed to cum, teasing her—torturing her—until the battery ran dry...yeah, it didn’t get much better than that.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Cynthia said when I untied Mom after just ninety minutes. She’d looked like she was about to pass out, and hot as that was in theory, I really did love my Mom. I didn’t want to hurt her.
Well, I wanted to hurt her, but not damage her.
Well…not physically.
“When you hit a certain age...” Cynthia continued, throwing me a conspiratorial glance.
Mom’s face burned, and I knew how much her daughter’s words hurt her.
But in the end, I think Mom had the upper hand. See, as much as I loved to see my family members suffer, I also got a decent amount of pleasure from seeing them enjoy themselves. It turned me on to know how much I turned my mother on. It got me hard to feel how wet my sister got for me.
And that was Mom’s advantage: she could cum, where Cynthia was forbidden.
Not that Mom knew that, of course. I asked her once, while she was under, why she thought Cynthia didn’t cum.
“Because what we do is so wrong,” she said, sounding like it was obvious. “No one...no one should be turned on by any of it.”
“But you are, aren’t you?” I asked, and Mom nodded. I had two fingers deep inside her, and I could feel her pussy twitch at the question. “You’re turned on by what you do with your son and daughter.”
“Y-yes,” Mom admitted with a moan. “B-but...I shouldn’t be.”
“And you don’t think Cynthia is?”
There was a pause, and Mom shook her head.
“I think...I think she is.”
“Then why doesn’t she cum?”
“Because it’s wrong,” Mom said again, and I left it at that.
She may have morally agreed with her daughter’s inability to orgasm, but that didn’t stop my mother from using it to gain the upper hand. My daily conditioning had made it so important to her—she had to win. She had to be better at getting me off than Cynthia was.
Mom didn’t even know why, but she knew she had to beat her daughter at this. Whatever it took.
And so, to my delight, Mom once more got nasty.
“God, Daniel,” she said, practically glowing. I’d just gotten her off—she’d been going down on Cynthia when I’d wandered into my bedroom (like I said, their encounters were getting more and more performative—like they’d both just ‘happened’ to be in my room when they started having sex). I’d watched for a little, before reaching behind to spank Mom as she licked her daughter’s clit.
Spanking turned into groping, and soon I had Mom on my lap, making out with me passionately as I frigged her to a long, loud orgasm.
“You make me feel so good,” she panted, pulling back from our kiss. “You’re so good with your hands. You know how to touch Mama so well.”
I didn’t say anything, just basked in the compliment. I mean, I knew she was right—while she was under, she’d taught me exactly what turned her on and got her off, and I’d been a quick study.
“It’s just a pity your sister can’t enjoy your touch like I do,” Mom pouted, and a grin slowly spread across my face as I realized what she was getting at. “Your mother cums so easily. Not like Cynthia, who can’t cum at all. Poor dear.“
Like I said—savage.
I loved it.
“God yes,” I nodded. “It’s so hot, feeling you cum around my hand.”
“I’ll bet,” Mom purred, one hand stroking my chest. “It’s so good for me when I make you cum.”
“Speaking of which...” I said, moving Mom’s other hand to my erection. I hadn’t cum yet, and seeing Mom jab Cynthia where it hurt…
It was like I’d managed to outsource sadism. All the pain, half the effort. Amazing.
Mom moved her mouth to mine, and we continued making out on my bed, her hand on my dick, my hand grabbing her huge tit.
Neither of us even noticed when Cynthia left. I learned later that she went to her room and cried—a thought that probably would’ve destroyed Mom a month ago, making her own daughter cry...but now, felt like victory.