Punishing the Naughty Mommy
Cum dripped off Mrs. Armstrong's face. My brother's cum.
A shudder rippled through my body. This was so hot. Melody, my half-sister, and I made the MILF cum. She wasn't supposed to. Her wimpy husband, being trained to be her dominant master by my brother, had given her orders.
I was surprised she held off from cumming as long as she did. Mr. Armstrong wasn't the most dominating man even now.
"How shall we punish her?" Clint asked Mr. Armstrong. "She came, she sucked my dick without your permission, and she licked Zoey's cunt."
I loved it. Clint just rammed his cock into her mouth while she was riding my strap-on dildo. I licked my lips, Melody's sweet pussy juices coating my mouth and cheeks. She tasted so good. I loved the incestuous flavor.
"Well?" Clint asked again. He was such a strong, young man. Tall, his hair dark, his body muscular. He must have taken one of those super Viagra pills because he was still hard, his dick thrusting hard before him. He stood over the MILF, her lush face dripping with cum. His seed fell down onto her round breasts.
I loved his cum. He had bred me with that incestuous seed. It was so hot. I only found out today.
"Uh..." Mr. Armstrong was a slender man. He was still holding his cock, jerking it off as we played with his wife.
As Clint used her mouth.
"Be a man," Clint growled. "She came. She indulged in her pleasures." A smile grew on Clint's lips. "She sucked on my cock."
"Spank her," Mr. Armstrong said. It almost sounded like a question.
I rolled my eyes.
Melody giggled as she pressed against Clint, her round breasts swaying. She had loose, sandy-blonde hair spilling around her flushed face. I made her cum hard. She held our brother the way a lover would. She was his first sister. One of the two of us he loved the most.
"That's it?" asked Clint. "Just spank her? We've already done that."
I nodded my head. Clint spanked her hard and then her husband took it up as punishment for her being a lying cunt. She came to the lesbian massage parlor I worked at, founded by our friends Juana and her sister-slave. After enjoying our services, she'd freaked out when she realized her daughter had made her cum.
She almost destroyed the Lady's Touch Massage Parlor with her selfishness.
She hated Stefani, her daughter and my lover, for being in a lesbian relationship with me. Then she came to our massage parlor
multiple
times. Clint had convinced Mr. Armstrong that his wife was a cheating, dyke whore because the wimpy guy wasn't a strong husband giving her what she needed.
Control and pleasure.
"She needs more than being spanked." Clint grinned at Melody. She winked a hazel eye. "Bondage."
"Um..." Mr. Armstrong said. "Well, I have the rope in the car you had me buy. I haven't tied her up since last week."
This was the Armstrongs second lesson Clint had given. Last week, he taught Mr. Armstrong how to safely tie up his wife without hurting her.
"No, we need more than that," Clint said. "Let's go to our dungeon."
"Dungeon?" squeaked Mrs. Armstrong.
"Does your wife have permission to speak?" Clint demanded.
"Quiet, whore," Mr. Armstrong said, his voice cracking. "You... you don't speak right now. Not after sucking his cock."
She flushed and lowered her head, more cum dribbling off her cheeks. She wiggled her hips. I rolled my eyes, my hands playing with the harness of my strap-on dildo. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stefani peeking into the living room. We were in the third house our family owned.
The play house.
"You have a dungeon?" Mr. Armstrong croaked. His face was pale.
"It's in the basement," Clint said, nodding his head over his shoulder at a short hallway. There was a door there.
Mr. Armstrong marched towards it, passing Clint. My brother sighed, shook his head, then grabbed Mrs. Armstrong's dark-red hair in a firm grip. She gasped as my brother hauled her to her feet and dragged her after her husband, the woman half-bent over.
Pussy cream dripped down her thighs.
I smiled at Stefani as Mr. Armstrong opened the door and headed down the stairs, Clint following, dragging the man's wife like she was his personal sex slave. Melody sauntered after with a sway to her rump.
I winked at Stefani and followed, my fingers undoing the harness of the strap-on soaked in the MILF's juices. I dropped it on the ground and, as I headed down the stairs, I saw Stefani snag it up. I giggled as she licked at her mother's juices off the dildo.
She was eager to join the fun.
My large breasts jiggled with each step. They swayed back and forth, the thick carpet on the stairs muffling our footsteps. Clint made sure there was the most comfortable flooring for us to play on. This house saw us having sex everywhere. None of the kids were allowed in here.
At least, not until they were eighteen.
I reached the bottom and entered our dungeon. Pam, my half-Japanese sister, waited. You would never know she was actually one of our family members, but our father, like Clint, had a thing for Asian women. My mother and Aunt Vicky would bring him sexy, Far East beauties for him to enjoy.
Both my mom and aunt were good sex slaves to both my dead dad and Clint.
"I knew she would break," Pam said. The petite, Japanese woman wore a black corset about her torso, lifting her round breasts into two delicious mounds. Her dark-brown nipples thrust out hard. She wore her hair in a French braid, falling black down her back, a few errant strands tumbling down her porcelain cheeks. A bubbling laugh burst from her lips, full of her amusement.
"I have plenty of delights to use on her to punish her," said Pam. She motioned to a table where she'd set out a variety of wicked delights.
"Darn," muttered Mr. Armstrong as he stared at the massive butt plug sitting beside the other items. Clothespins, clover clamps, vampire gloves, a Wartenberg wheel, several leather straps, two paddles (one with holes drilled through the polished wood), a pair of flails (one with thick leather straps and the other fine, thin tails), a whip, a coil of red rope, handcuffs, and a spreader bar.
"What do you want to use on her?" asked Clint as he pushed Mrs. Armstrong down on her knees. Pam came up to him, pressing against his side, her eyes bright.
"I don't know," Mr. Armstrong said. He picked up the Wartenberg Wheel. It looked like a pizza slicer except the wheel had small, blunt teeth that would roll across your skin. It was a medical device to check nerve function.
It felt wicked rolling across your flesh.
"This is... I mean..."