All characters are 18 or over. Warning: contains nuts.
Also contains incest, non-consent, occasional male-male sex, prostitution, blackmail.
BREAKFAST
Brad entered the kitchen, stood behind his mother who was eating her breakfast cereal, and plunged his hand straight down her pajama top, fondling her breast. Jane closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them and kept eating. She was used to this, used to being under her son's absolute control. Summer or winter, it was all the same. And this was definitely summer. She had on a light cotton top, semi-buttoned, the way her son liked.
Peter, his father, compressed his lips as a mixture of conflicting emotions roiled through him. As usual he felt shame, shame that he couldn't prevent his own wife being felt up in front of him. Disgust at himself for letting himself be caught and blackmailed by his own son. Incredibly horny because his son was touching what he himself wanted to touch, but was not allowed to any more without permission. Powerless, because he couldn't relieve the huge erection he had almost perpetually nowadays.
His hand dropped down in frustration to his lap, and rested on the chastity cage his cock was padlocked inside. Occasionally, under supervision, Brad would let him have sexual relief. If he was very, very
good
. Peter shuddered to think what
being good
would involve this time. But he felt so desperate that he would do virtually anything.
He glanced towards Brad, keeping his face expressionless, contemplating for the thousandth time whether strangling his son might be a good idea. Almost certainly not, apart from the pointed questions the police might ask. For one thing, he didn't know where the key to the chastity cage was, so that would entail an incredibly embarrassing trip to the locksmith. Second, the hold his son had over him, involving certain papers and other items he had discovered, were, he knew, in "button down" mode somewhere. In the event of Brad's death, it would all become public, the entire sordid, illegal, disgusting mess.
Peter's cock throbbed and twitched inside the cage, where he couldn't touch it or help it. Help it release its pent-up load. Meanwhile he was forced to watch Brad feel up his wife, as he did every morning. He would start begging soon, he knew. Begging for the key, to have the cage unlocked, to be able to release the tension, the almost unbearable pressure.
Brad glanced towards his dad, knowing the effect he was having. He reached down and grabbed his mother's other tit, and kneaded it as well, smiling directly into his father's eyes. "Want some, Dad?" he asked, grinning. Then Brad stopped kneading the whole tit and started rubbing his finger over one of her nipples, twisting very slightly, pressing very slightly. It was in his power to twist harder, clamp his fingers together painfully, and she knew it.
Jane knew she must submit, and do everything Brad wanted. Major defiance on her part, and she knew Brad would release the tapes, the photos, the files, all the evidence he had collected. Release it to the police, the news outlets, and worst of all, to her own very conservative family. For a moment she felt physically sick at the thought of what her father would say when he saw the photos,
that
photo in particular. The one involving her and β no she couldn't even think about it.
Minor defiance, on the other hand, would bring a quick nipple twist, short-term pain. A reminder that she had to do everything she was told. Or else.
Moderate defiance, she had already learned, had very unpleasant consequences. She remembered the last time she had baulked at one of Brad's orders. He had grabbed the hair clippers, held her tightly, and shaved a big X though her beautiful hair. She had looked hideous. She had to cancel meetings with friends for a month after that until it grew back. During that month she had begged and begged for Brad to do something. Well, Brad did something all right. He fucked her constantly while she begged. He pointed out, as his strong arms held her, and his rigid cock pounded her, that next time he wouldn't be as lenient. Eventually he relented and used the clippers to give her an even haircut, and suggested she make up a story about needing a special medical treatment that had made her hair fall out.
Oddly enough, she had started enjoying it. Being dominated by a man, a real, strong man, was a big turn-on. She looked forwards to having Brad inside her. Telling her what to do,
ordering
her what to do. Brad had warped her mind. She wanted to please him, more than anything else.
That morning, as Brad groped her tits, with Peter watching, she hoped he would go further. She could feel her arousal building. Her disgust at her own husband rose. Pathetic weakling. Being stupid enough to be caught with the evidence, to give Brad the lever over him. Submitting to the cock cage. And now sitting there practically drooling at her, hoping Brad would let him fuck her. She hoped Brad wouldn't. She couldn't stand Peter's tiny cock any more, being inside her. The cock of a useless weakling. A loser's cock. But if Brad ordered her to, she would. She knew that. She would do anything for Brad. Partly because she had to. Partly because, now, she wanted to.
Peter tore his eyes away from the hand moving inside his wife's top, kneading, touching. Touching the breasts that used to be his to touch. He couldn't stand it any longer. He rose to go.
"Sit down and watch, Dad," Brad ordered, "or I'll tie you to the chair, and then slap you silly and call you Susan."
Peter sat, resigned to another session of sexual frustration.
Brad reach down and pulled his mother's top off, exposing her naked breasts to the morning air. Both men watched them. Only one could touch. "Come and sit next to Dad," Brad ordered his mother. She moved closer so her breasts were just a few inches from Peter's face. He couldn't take his eyes off them.
Brad moved his fingers over them in lazy circles, tracing around the nipples, standing behind her. "You like that, Dad?" he asked. "Want to suck them? Touch them?"
"Yes please, son," Peter replied, desperately.