

For "you"; my first (and hopefully recurring) fan.  You know who you are.



Codes: MF+(g* b*) ped inc bd ws




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*   WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING  *
*        WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING        *
*                                                                              *
*                                                                              *
* For the love of SPOONS no one under the age of twenty-one (21) or the age of *
* consent for their geographical location (whichever is HIGHER) needs to be    *
* anywhere near this.  This is a story meant for legally-adult readers.  Don't *
* let your kids read this.  Don't let your dog read this.  Don't let your      *
* religious leader within the same postal code as this.  You know, really, YOU *
* probably shouldn't even read this horrible, nasty, terrible story.           *
*                                                                              *
* Hopefully it goes without saying, but if you ever even vaguely ponder the    *
* SLIGHT idea that MAYBE you would CONSIDER doing anything even REMOTELY like  *
* anything depicted herein--GET HELP.  NOW.  Therapy is a wonderful thing.     *
*                                                                              *
* This story can (and probably does) contain one or more of the following (bet *
* your last nickel on "more"): Incest, pedophilia, watersports, extreme female *
* domination, bestiality, psychological torture, and who knows WHAT other      *
* sick, perverted, dirty, terrible, and disgusting things I can come up with.  *
* Really, you ought to stop reading.  Right now.  I'm serious.                 *
*                                                                              *
* ...still here?  You sure?  This is bad-bad mojo.  Last chance...             *
*                                                                              *
*                                                                              *
*        WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING        *
*   WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING  *
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                                 THE TAMING GAME
                                       by
                          Forbidden Fantasy Storyteller





        It takes careful planning to achieve what one wants in life, at least
for the most part.  If one just wants to have a lot of money and a large house,
then being the statistical anomaly that wins the lottery is sufficient.
However, if one wants more than that, one has to plan, very, very carefully.

        One such planner first put his into motion eight years previous.
Careful research, careful planning and preparation, led him to a young woman,
still a teenager, in a small town.  There are many, many small towns across the
United States, but this was one of those that still had "old values".  There
were no abortion clinics, no "Planned Parenthood" meetings, no adoptions, none
of that.

        Those very "values" made it perfect.  It was also one of those where you
could still find homes on the edge of town, though there were attempts at
modernization.  Eight years ago, a fifteen-year-old girl was raped.  There was
more to it than simple sex, of course.  She was raped repeatedly for three days,
her rapist staying to make sure she didn't bathe.  Her parents were out of town
at a Bible camp, and as she had just started a job at the local diner, she was
left home.

        For three days, he had sex with her then watched her.  She would be fed
and cleaned, of course--but every day there was also the pregnancy test.  When
the first came back as positive, there were two more behind it just to be sure.
After that last test, he disappeared from her life.

        Her parents tried to be understanding, though her father kept blaming
her for it, since she wore short skirts at work.  He ignored the fact that she
had to, or it would have cost her the job.  There was some sympathy from her
mother, but at the end of the day she deferred to her father.  So much so there
really wasn't even time for her to rest; taking time off from work wasn't
allowed until almost halfway through the third trimester.

        Fast-forward eight years.  The same girl, now a young woman, worked at
the same diner, still living at home.  Her mother had died five years previous,
leaving her with her completely unsympathetic father.  Her daughter was doing
alright in school, though her grades were starting to slacken as she was given
more duties at home.

        By the time the man came into their lives, they were both ready for him.

        He appeared in her diner as a tourist of sorts.  He was touring America,
he said, looking for a place to call home.  He was looking for "old-fashioned
values", he said.  For the people that made America great, he said.  All these
things and more, which endeared him to the diners.  And of course, those diners
talked.  He was courteous to all, respectful when appropriate, and in all other
ways showed the qualities the town preferred.

        He especially endeared himself to the young waitress.  One of the few
males in town who seemed sincerely nice to her, and the only male out of
puberty.  She found herself hoping he'd stop in, giving him prompt service when
he did.

        He spent almost two weeks in this town when he mentioned that he was
thinking about leaving.  Living in the town's only hotel was nice and all, but
it was getting expensive.  She looked at the large tips he left--a twenty dollar
bill for a cup of coffee and slice of the "famous" pecan pie with a request for
her to keep the change was the usual--and felt guilty.  Her father had recently
taken ill so that afternoon he mentioned leaving, without thinking she said that
he could stay with her.

        There were chores to be done around the house, chores her father could
no longer do, and her daughter was too young for.  He said he'd think about it,
and spent the evening at the local bar, chatting up the regulars.  He seemed
like a decent sort, liked all the more for talking to them about it and making
sure none thought anything untoward would happen.  He WAS rather liked, and
since there were, as she said, chores to do it's not like he would be a
free-loader.

        Fast-forward again, this time only two months.  He had settled into the
spare bedroom, with what meager belongings he had.  That really only amounted to
a backpack and duffel bag.  The father's health continued to decline, eventually
leaving him wheezing and with an oxygen tank with him continuously.  The man
chopped the wood, did small repairs, patiently listened to the father's numerous
stories.

        He also ingraciated himself with the woman's daughter, even going so far
as to partaking in the "fashion shows", with them raiding closets and parading
around.  The woman felt more comfortable around him, starting to confide in him.

        The first time, the time that marked the real turning point, was an
evening they were sitting on the porch, sipping tea while the daughter rode her
bicycle around the yard.

        "It's--difficult, isn't it?" he asked, nodding to the girl.

        "Yeah."  She looked at him and gave him a wan smile, then looked back to
her daughter.  "Though, umm--it's easier, now.  The chores taken care of here
means I don't have to worry so much."

        "Hey, it's alright.  I like helping out.  I was raised better than to
take hand-outs."

        "I'm--I'm glad you like it here.  It's nice--for her, I mean--to have
a man around other than her grandfather."

        "He's--a difficult man, isn't he?"  He smiled at her, there, letting his
gaze linger on her for a few moments longer than absolutely necessary.

        She ducked her head a little, giving a tiny nod.  "He--he means well.
It's just..."

        "Hard when your granddaughter is a product of rape."  That was said in
an off-hand manner, like it was a trifle of a concept.  She just looked at him,
genuinely surprised he didn't seem to care.

        "How--how did you, um...?"

        "People talk," he said with a shrug.  "You know how it is.  I don't
think it matters.  She's a very beautiful girl, like her mama."  A grin, there,
for her, which was returned, though along with a deep blush.

        The funeral for her father was three days later.  The man suffered an
embolic stroke while his daughter was work.  The granddaughter was at school and
the tenant out back weeding, so no one knew what was happening until it was too
late.  Thankfully, and much to her appreciation, he dealt with the details of
talking to the police, the funeral, and so on.

        The evening after the funeral, they sat inside on the couch.  The young
girl was in her room, fast asleep after he had to comfort her some.  They sat on
the couch, saying nothing, and she unconsciously starting snuggling against him.

        His hand dipped down, moving between her thighs.  She grunted and
started to shift uncomfortably, though he shushed her, whispering, "Trust me.  I
know how to help you relax.  Hmm?  Trust me, now."

        With obvious reluctance, she tried to relax as his hand dipped under the
hem of her skirt, so his fingers could start stroking her through the thin,
cotton panties.

        Though it took almost twenty minutes, she found herself starting to be
able to relax.  No man had touched her there, at all, since the rape so many
years ago.  And that wasn't exactly tender, caring--like what he was doing for
her right then.  And as she let herself relax a little, the stroking actually
started to feel rather good, until she let out a soft sigh and relaxed
completely.

        He noticed the smile that started to creep onto her face, and it made
him smile.  Though she noticed his, in turn, she didn't realize that his was
from things going exactly as planned.  She was starved for affection, for
attention, and would favorably respond to any care that was given to her.
According to plan, indeed.


                              SIX MONTHS LATER...


        She came home from work one evening still blushing madly, though with
that cute, embarrassed smile on her face.  Her boyfriend was in the kitchen with
her daughter, both washing dishes.  When she came in, they both hugged her, her
boyfriend stepping back first and retrieving the dishtowel from where it was
tossed on the counter.

        "How'd it go?" he asked, picking up a bowl out of the dish rack to dry
it.  Thankfully it was the last thing to dry.

        She couldn't speak, at first, though her smile creeped into a grin.  Her
uniform was cold-wash-only, so he used hot water on it to shrink it a little and
"suggested" she go without underwear for the past week.  Her breasts and
buttocks were quite well-defined, more so when he "suggested" she leave the top
button unfastened.

        He'd mentioned that she was beautiful, and beauty was meant to be seen.
Paintings and sculptures in museums weren't covered up, after all, and though
she thought about it, she couldn't really argue against it.  Also, she consoled
herself, it was such a little thing, really.

        "You were right, baby," she said at last.  "I did get a lot more tips.
And more than a few stares."

        Her daughter spoke up, next.  "Did you really go without underwear,
mommy?"  She seemed incredulous, eyes wide.  Though her smile had never left her
face; though she knew about it before hand she still found it odd, but not
necessarily in a bad way.

        Her mother nodded, rubbing the top of her daughter's head lightly.
"Yeah," she said while looking to her boyfriend, "just like you said.  And you
were right."  After kissing the top of her daughter's head, she gently
extricated herself and went over to her man, wrapping her arms around him and
laying her cheek on his shoulder.  With a softer voice, she murmured, "I'm sorry
I doubted you, and I'm glad I did it anyway."

        "That's okay, sweets," he replied, grinning at her.  "Come on, then.
Let's get you out of that thing."

        He took her into the living room where he'd set the laundry hamper, and
started to strip her.  She protested, glancing to her daughter, to which he
replied, "It's nothing she hasn't seen before."  Then he leaned in to whisper,
"If she sees that you're uncomfortable, she might become ashamed of her body.
Do you want that?"  He kept the smile on his face, though there was a rather
pointed look to his eye.

        After a beat, she relaxed, tension leaving her, if only incrementally.
"No, I--guess not..." she said, thinking about her own inhibitions.  Her would-
be lover wanted to have sex, but she was still somewhat shy about it all.  That
was something she didn't want her daughter to have to go through.

        He resumed stripping her of her shirt and skirt, keeping her in the
high heels.  Her daughter looked on, eyes wider than before.  Another grin broke
out on his face as the woman's blush returned, deeper than ever.  It reached
down to the tops of her breasts, highlighting them.

        Her arms flexed nervously, one instinctively starting to stray upward,
but she caught the subtle shake of his head and dropped it back to her side.
"Sit down and relax," he told her.  "You've been on your feet all day."  She did
so, still nervous but trying to make herself relax.

        The basket was taken to the back porch and set next to the washer to be
dealt with in the morning, and when he returned he found the young girl sitting
on the couch, facing her mother.

        "Isn't she pretty, baby-girl?" he asked, toussling the woman's hair.

        "Yeah!"  The exclamation was obviously sincere.  He squeezed himself
between the females and turned on the stereo.  Eventually the woman relaxed
almost completely.  She realized she quite liked looking at her like this, and
it did seem to relax her daughter, seeing that her mother didn't appear to be
ashamed.

        She snuggled up to her man, enjoying the evening.


                              TWO NIGHTS LATER...


        Another tiring day at work, but she was home now.  The sun had set a
few hours previous, but it was still sweltering.  They were entering summer, and
it was rarely less than seventy even at this time of evening.

        She went through what was now becoming the usual routine--kissing her
man and letting him undress her as she was told about his day.  It never occured
to her to talk about her own, though she answered specific questions when he
asked them.  When she inquired about her daughter, she was told the girl was out
in the backyard playing.  As if sensing she was being talked about, the girl
appeared, as stark-naked as her mother.

        "She was hot, and since there's really no one around, I thought it would
be okay," was his response to her questioning glance.  That reply almost
satisfied her, so he added, "You do trust me, right?"  She nodded once, smiling
for him.  "Good."

        The girl climbed onto the couch, saying, "Yeah, it was real hot.  I said
he should take his clothes off, too, but he said he was going to wait for you."

        The woman looked back to him, noticing how much his shirt stuck to him.
It had to be very uncomfortable, and that instantly relaxed her fully.  She
chided herself for not trusting him more.  He obviously wanted to make sure she
knew he was trustworthy.

        To ease that burden, she said, "It IS rather hot, still.  You should be
comfortable, since you work hard around the house."

        Smiling anew, he replied, "Well, since you're okay with it."  With that,
he stood and removed his shirt and jeans, tossing them onto the armchair.  The
girl looked at his crotch, making the man chuckle quietly.  "It's natural she's
curious," he said, and her mother nodded, thinking that made sense.

        That was the last time clothes were worn inside that house.

        The routine was easily settled into after that.  When she got home, she
stripped naked as soon as she entered, tossing her uniform onto the hamper that
had found a new home near the front door.  She'd kiss her daughter and her man
as they finished their chores, and all migrated to the couch.  Sometimes music
was played, sometimes they just chatted, but his hand invariably ended up
between her thighs, massaging her pussy.

        After a hard day at work, that massage was just what she wanted, and it
took surprisingly little time to become accustomed to such intimate caresses in
the presence of her daughter.  There were always comments about how the girl
needed to stay comfortable with her own body, so she relented and soon never
questioned it again.

        Mid-summer was the girl's ninth birthday, and her mother managed to get
the weekend off to celebrate it.  Gifts were bought, a cake made, the candles
blown, and gifts unwrapped.  She hadn't spent enough time in school to really
make friends, though her parents--she'd taken to calling the man her father--had
made sure she didn't think about it much.

        By the end of it all, he asked what she wished for when she blew out her
candles.  They had, unbeknownst to her mother, carefully rehearsed this for two
weeks.  She said that she wanted to know more about sex.  This initated a long
conversation between her parents--the woman needed to finally have sex, anyway,
and what better time?  Her daughter needed to know that sex wasn't bad, but
since her mother didn't have sex with her father, that was sending mixed
signals.

        What finally ended the discussion was him reminding her that she needed
to trust him, and asking her if she genuinely loved him.

        "You do love me, right?"

        "Of course, baby."

        "Good.  She needs to know, and you need to know, too.  You need to do it
as much as she needs to see it.  You have to trust me, and you have to love me
enough."

        Everyone was gathered in his bedroom.  He went over the basics, telling
the girl that when a woman loves her man, she fucks him.  He had the woman
stroke his cock to get it hard, as he explained this was so he could properly
enter a woman.  The first few times, he explained, it would hurt, but that was
one of those things that a girl needed to endure to prove she loved her man.

        Laying the woman on her back, he spread her legs and bent them back over
her so her knees were near her head.  This put her pussy on a rather obscene
display, and he had the little girl kneel right next to her mother's ass.  He
told the girl that, since he was holding her mother's legs, she needed to put
his cock against her mother's pussy.  He was liberal with the terminology, not
sticking to more "clinical" names, but her mother was already used to that from
the other men in town so that was one thing she didn't think anything of.

        Nodding and wide-eyed, the girl grabbed his cock and, so gently as if
afraid of hurting him, she guided him as he slowly moved his hips toward her
mother's.  He made sure the woman was ready, then plunged his cock into her,
making the woman gasp from the pain.

        After he'd settled in as deep as he could go, he explained to the girl
about the hymen and how it had to be broken so she could be fucked, then he
backed his hips up until just the head stayed in the woman's cunt folds.  The
strokes weren't too slow, though nor were they too quick, either.  After a few
moments of this, he stopped and pulled out.

        He repositioned the woman, arching her back so her ass stuck up some,
then he had the girl grab his now-slickened dick once more.  She marveled at the
moisture, and he explained that it was from her pussy, and existed so a man
could enter the asshole more easily.

        The girl was instructed to guide him once more, and the head of his
cock was placed against the tight brown ring of her mother's asshole.  Like with
her pussy, he explained, it would hurt, but only the first few times.  Without
another word, he pushed into the woman's ass, causing the woman to cry out as
he pushed as deep as he could go.

        The woman was told to tell her daughter it didn't hurt as much, that
everything was alright.  Though it was a lie, she did so.  Better than to have
her daughter think anything was wrong, after all.  Better to keep her daughter
thinking sex was good and natural than to ever have qualms about it.  Those
qualms, she knew, were only a detriment.

        The trickle of blood that leaked from her asshole as he thrusted into
her went ignored.  The girl was told to not worry about it; it, too, was natural
and would subside.

        Only a few minutes of this could he tolerate before having to stop.  The
last thing, he explained, was for a woman to suckle the man's dick.  This amazed
the girl, especially after where it had just been, but he assured her that it,
too, was natural and something a woman did for the man she loved.

        Of course, this was as much for her mother's benefit as her own, as a
part of her knew.  Still, as he moved and knelt next to her head--making sure
the girl watched here, too--she tilted her head up to let her lips slide around
his cock.  She could taste herself on him, but she didn't dare pull away.

        He instructed her on how to use her tongue, and the girl watched,
positively captivated.  He began to thrust into her mouth, burrowing the head
of his cock into her throat.  At the last moment, he pulled out and had the
woman jack him off until he orgasmed.  Jet after jet of cum shot from his cock,
spraying her face, neck, and tits.

        While trying to catch his breath, he explained about that, how it was
cum and showed how much he enjoyed sex.  He was pleasantly surprised at her
question of how it tasted--and was a natural question, considering what she just
witnessed--so he encouraged both females to taste it and see for themselves.

        The girl was about to use her hand, but he stopped her and had her
mother do it.  The woman scooped a dollop onto two fingers and held them out for
her daughter, to licked them tentatively.  Her final judgement: "...salty and
goopy."  At least she wasn't too off-put by it.

        They rested in a pile for a little bit, as he stroked the woman's pussy
and watched the females.  There was a sense of resignation in the woman; she'd
come to put her faith in her trust, and decided to keep to it.  He'd been right
about everything so far, after all, and she knew her own experience in sexual
matters was non-existent.

        Finally the girl remembered to ask the other thing they practiced.  She
said that if sex was for people who cared about each other, why couldn't she do
it?  She loved her mommy and daddy, after all.

        He pointed out to her mother that the girl had a point.  And it wasn't
like they were allowing some stranger to fuck the girl.  Shouldn't it be someone
who genuinely cared for her?  After a moment, the last bit of hesitance faded
and the woman agreed.  He'd been right so far.

        First he had the young girl lay on her back and pull her knees up, then
the woman had her face put between the girl's thighs and told to lick the bald
cunt.  The first attempt made the girl giggle, though not in a bad way, and with
only minute direction from him, her mother started to learn how to eat pussy.
After some time of this, they were reversed, and the mother found herself
unconsciously starting to buck her hips against her daughter's probing tongue,
the earlier pain forgotten.

        When he was hard once more, he had the girl lay on her back and her
mother kneel nearby.  The girl was once again told it would hurt, and he had
her mother guide his cock into her daughter's pussy.  Shoving inward made her
cry out, but he told her to be a big girl and it would be okay.

        He fucked her tiny cunt for only a few minutes, then he had to pull out.
There was only a gesture to her mother, and she reached for his cock as he
pulled the girl's legs up to lift her ass.  Once more, after her mother nestled
the head of his cock against her, he pushed in.  Another, louder cry was ripped
from the girl's throat, but he continued on.  There was another promise that the
pain would stop after the first few times, and the girl nodded meekly, doing her
best to stifle the tears.

        This, too, he could only do for a few moments, and he finally pulled
free.  He had her mother support the child's head in one hand and guide him into
the girl's mouth with the other as he gently helped her mouth stay open.  She
could only take a couple inches into her mouth, but that was enough and he
congratulated her on it.  She managed to smile with her eyes, and that assuaged
her mother.

        When he pulled out he had her mother keep her propped up, and had both
of them put their faces together, mouth open, as he jacked himself off to
orgasm.  The cum spurted onto their faces and chests, with only a few jets
ending up in their mouths.

        When he was empty he slouched, and they ended up in their pile again.
"I love you girls," he whispered, pleasing them both to no end.  That was the
first time he actually said those words, and both girls took them to heart.
When everyone finally nodded off, the girls were on either side of him, snuggled
into his sides.  The girl never slept in her own bed again, though that didn't
matter for long.

        Another routine added to the list.  The woman would get home from work,
strip by the door, spend evenings on the couch next to her man.  On his other
side would be her daughter, him stroking their pussies as they spent time
together.  Both were taught to stroke each other and themselves, too, so many
evenings were spent rather quietly.

        They ended up in bed soon after the evening meal, where he'd take turns
fucking both of them, one helping guide him into the other.  And though it
didn't exactly stop hurting after only a few nights, neither female said
anything, both doing their best to ignore it.  It got so they either didn't
think about it or it actually stopped; the line between the former and the
latter was so blurred neither could say where, exactly, ignorance of pain became
a complete lack of pain.

        The woman lost the last of her inhibitions, freely allowing her man to
indulge in anything he wanted.  He had the girl hold his cock as he peed on her
mother, and they thought it was hilariously fun.  The girls were guided into
participation, too, slowly starting to lose control of their bladder.  They knew
this was happening, too; he made no secret of why they would drink a lot of
water in one sitting, and made to concentrate and ignore the instinct to clench
their bladder.

        This affected her job, but not quite badly.  It was passed off as an
accident, though the questions asked after it happened three times in one shift
went unanswered.

        Three months after that fateful birthday, the girl had her first period,
and he had her mother help him fuck the child almost non-stop.  Both knew he was
trying to get the girl and her mother both pregnant.  When the woman came home
from work, she'd usually find them on the couch, or the child riding him on
their bed, or the girl bent over the arm of the armchair.

        Against all odds, they actually "caught" at around the same time.  This,
he felt, was the perfect time for the last stage in his plan.

        They were moved to southern Wyoming, to a cabin on a lake, the property
amounting to numerous acres in any direction.  His family owned the property
going back to the early Twentieth Century, and he kept it up when it was passed
to him.  Food was taken care of by his family; the area around the lake was
notorious for not having soil suitable for nearly anything but trees and weeds,
so his family had fresh food brought to the cabin once a month.

        The girls were brought there with nothing; there was only a suitcase
that held the same things his backpack and duffel bag held, so long ago.  They
didn't need such things, they were told, and by now the woman trusted him so
completely she helped assure her daughter of that truth.  The child trusted him
as well, so took it with only the least amount of complaint.  Once she saw the
lake, she forgot all about it.

        "I have another surprise," he told them, closing the door to the van
and heading toward the house.  After a shrill whistle, a labrador retriever
bounded from behind the small cabin, followed soon after by a girl obviously
still in her teens.  Like his girls, she was completely naked, though she
sported a leather collar.

        The girl bowed her head, then smiled at the trio.  "It is hoped Master
finds everything as he left it," she said.  "I followed instructions to the
letter."

        "She's my father's," he mentioned, explaining to his girls.  They took
the explanation without question, the girl following her mother's silence.

        The dog sniffed the girls, nose almost immediately heading to their
crotches.  The woman started to urge the dog away, but was stopped by her man.
"Let him sniff," he said nonchalantly.  "He needs to get used to your scent, and
the best way is to sniff your pussies."

        Both girls were sniffed in turn, the child giggling when she felt the
dog's tongue.  The man finally gently ushered the dog off and led everyone into
the cabin.  His father's girl kept a respectable distance, hands cupped around
each other behind her back.  When addressed directly, she bowed her head a
little, and seemed somewhat uncomfortable being addressed by his girls.

        There was a quick tour of the place, though being one large room, it
didn't take long.  All the wood was polished wood, and as frequently as all
three girls pissed themselves, the reason behind this was clear soon.  There
was a dining table near the middle, next to the congregation of couches and
armchairs.  Those loosely faced the wood fireplace.

        Off to one side was a king-sized bed, and in one corner was a toilet.
The kitchen was just off of the "front" door, and the wall facing the lake was
floor-to-ceiling glass leading onto a large deck.  His father's girl took the
suitcase and put things away, then bowed and respectfully requested permission
to leave.

        When asked by his daughter where she was going, he told her that she was
returning to his father, who lived more or less on the other side of the lake.
He had his woman and her daughter lay on his bed, then he called over his dog.
Their legs were spread and he let the dog climb up, saying that he would let the
dog choose which girl he wanted.

        The beast made a bee-line for his daughter, nose buried into her tiny
cunt.  The woman was told to pread the girl's legs, and she did so without
question.  The child giggled as the dog lapped at her pussy, then the man had
her turn over so she was on her hands and knees over her mother's lap.  Having
the woman spread the girl's ass cheeks, the dog was encouraged to sniff and lick
some more, then he suddenly hopped up.

        Claws digging into the girl's side, the dog thrusted at the child.
Making sure she didn't move too much, he guided the dog's cock into her pussy,
letting the beast thrust deeply into her.

        He reassured the girl she was doing good, while the dog thrust so hard
even her mother's tits giggled rather fiercely.  By now the girl was accustomed
to pain from fucking, so didn't cry out as the dog's claws dug deep furrows into
her hips and side.

        "Daddy!" she said suddenly, "I think his cock is growing!"

        "That's right, sweets," he said as he pulled her hips against the beast.
"His dick is getting bigger.  It's called his 'knot', and dogs need to have
their knot burried in a pussy."

        "But I can't move, daddy.  It's not like when you fuck me."

        "You'll have to get used to it, sweets."  That, as usual, ended the
conversation.  When he said that, it was known that that's what he meant, and
didn't tolerate continued arguments.  The dog rutted the girl as his knot
swelled, stretching the child's cunt until a tight seal was formed.

        "It's--hot..." she whispered, though more out of surprise than anything
else.  The dogs warm body was pressing against hers, his moist breath on her
neck and head.

        Finally the dog slid off, turning around so his butt was against the
girl's.

        "He's cumming inside you, sweets," her father explained.  "The knot
makes it so it stays inside.  It will just be a little while, then you'll have
to clean his cock for him like a good girl."  She could only nod weakly.

        It took a little under a half-hour, but the knot finally shrunk enough
to allow the pink cock to plop out with an audible popping sound, followed by a
veritable flood of dog cum hitting the bed.

        "Remember your duty, girl," her father said softly, though firmly.

        Weakly she slid off of her mother's lap and moved to where the dog lay
panting.  Without hesitation she started licking and suckling his cock, while
her father petted and scritched the dog.  After only a few moments, he called
the child off.

        "You did very well, baby," he said brightly, making her smile as she
collapsed onto the bed, not even caring about being a the pool of dog cum.  "He
hasn't had a good cunt like that in a long, long time, and now he has two to
fuck."  His daughter was out like a light before he finished that sentence, but
her mother nodded and smiled.

        "I'll remind her later," she promised her man.

        "Good girl.  And remember, both of you--your legs spread for him.  No
hesitation."

        "Yes, sir," she said, without hesitation.  She watched as the dog
finished licking itself, then jumped off of the bed to trot over to its water
dish.

        After a few minutes, and completely ignoring that she had started
pissing on the bed, she said, "May--may I ask a question?"  Only a half-beat,
then she thought to add, "Sir?"

        "Of course, babe."

        "That--that girl, with the--the collar?"

        "That's my father's slut.  She earned that collar, really."

        "What does it mean?"

        "That my father owns her, completely.  She tends to him, and he takes
care of her, makes the decisions, and so on."

        He let her mentally chew on that, waiting for her to come to the
conclusion he knew she would.  "Your father takes care of her--like you take
care of us?"

        "Exactly, my lovely cunt," he replied, noting she expressed no real
reaction at using the name for her pussy as her pet-name.  "Just like how I own
you, and take care of you."

        Brow furrowing in thought, she said, "Then--shouldn't we have collars,
too?  That--that would show we love you and are yours, right?"

        With a grin, he reached over to the nightstand next to the bed, opening
a drawer and pulling out a box.  Inside were a series of black leather collars.

        "You really are a smart cunt," he said, setting the box next to her.
"That's why we came here, so you two could wear these collars and prove you love
me."

        She picked through the collars and noticed that they all had rings set
around them, buckling together with a setting for a lock.  Conveniently, there
were locks in the box as well.  She also noticed that the collars were differing
sizes, the smallest looking like it would be a perfect fit for her daughter.  A
smile formed on her lips as she took it and a lock out.

        "You really do think of everything don't you, s--" she paused, then
looked directly at him and grinned.  "--Master," she finished."

        "Put it on the little slut and lock in in place," he instructed, and
she did so without hesitation, gently moving the girl's hair so it wouldn't get
caught.  Then she took out another one and another lock, setting them by her
Master's knee.  Gathering her hair she got it out of the way as she bent over,
so her neck was within his reach.

        "You are a beautiful and smart little cunt, aren't you?" he said in an
admiring tone as he buckled the collar around her neck and locked it.

        "Thank you, Master," she whispered as she leaned back up, fingertips
automatically running along the collar.  "She'll thank you, too, when she wakes
up.  I'll make sure of it."

        "That's good of you, my darling slut."

        And so it was.  When the labrador came back in and expressed interest
in the woman, she bent over the bed for him and helped him to mount her.  Having
watched how her Master had the dog mount her daughter, she grinded back against
him to help him tie her.

        When the child awoke from her nap and discovered the collar, its meaning
was explained to her.  She took it all in, paying close attention and nodding.
She well understood the concept of "ownership", and realized that she and her
mother were owned by him, much like he might own a dog or a chair.  It was a
concept she struggled with, but not as much as he expected.


                             FOUR MONTHS LATER...


        The Master lay on the bank of the lake, his elder slut curled next to
him, as they watched his labrador mount his younger slut.  She could fuck him
without any help and took pride in that.  Even with her swollen belly she could
fuck his dog like a good bitch.

        Without taking her eyes off of her daughter, the woman said, "Master,
I--I love you, you know that, right?  You own my body, my soul, my heart, my
pussy--all of me.  And I'm grateful.  I didn't realize how much I needed you--
how much my little baby slut needed you."

        He smiled and stroked her cheek, saying nothing, sensing she was going
somewhere.

        "You--you gave her to me, didn't you?  All those years ago.  You came
to me and implanted her in me."

        "Yes, cunt," he said, smiling still and cocking an eyebrow.  He had an
idea on how she knew, but wanted to see what she would say.

        "I know the feel of your wonderful cock.  That first night you took me,
with my baby cunt, I knew--I remembered feeling it."

        He laughed, then, a pleasing and pleased sound.  "I knew I made the
right choice when I picked you."

        She looked to him finally, eyes silently asking the question.

        "You were the product of careful research," he said, looking back to
his daughter.  "I needed only the best, most special cunt."

        That made her eyes glisten as her smile deepened.  "And--you got my
father sick, didn't you?  That--you freed me from him..."

        Another laugh, this one louder, head tilting back.  "My dearest slut!
You--you are a marvelous cunt, you know that?"

        She grinned and dipped her head, kissing his chest.  "I'm glad I please
you so much, Master," she whispered, then she looked back up to his eyes.
"Your daughter--she'll be a good cunt for you, too, as will our children.  You
know this, right?  They won't know anything but you."

        "I know, cunt.  You will both be wonderful mothers to my children."

        "I'm glad you know, Master.  Now--I had an idea.  The plugs we use--they
could be used to stretch our children for you, Master, to let them feel you.  We
should start as soon as possible, so you can take them without delay."

        That earned her another toussle of her hair.  "Such a wonderful cunt you
are..." he said.

        When the times came, the births were days apart.  One was a boy, the
other a girl.  When the girl was born--by his daughter--the delivery was done
in the lake much like her mother's delivery.  It was far more complicated by her
young age, but both helped out, and when it was done, while the elder cunt dealt
with the afterbirth and such, the baby's mother held the girl up and guided her
father's cock to the baby's mouth.

        She instinctively suckled on the tip as the young slut massaged his cock
until thick jets of his cum spurted into the baby's mouth.  The baby's mother
cooed to the girl and urged her to drink it all, and only when her Master
allowed it was the baby brought to the swollen tits to drink.  As it did, both
sluts worked on fitting the baby with plugs, ignoring its cries as their Master
instructed.  She would settle soon and get used to them, they knew.

        The girl was the family toy from the very start.  Not a day went by when
her brother wasn't helped to rub his tiny cock against her slit, or one of the
older cunts jacked the Master off into her mouth, pussy, or asshole, using her
like a fuck toy.

        That became her name--Fuck-toy.  She was to be used, no more.  As the
elder sluts were kept on strictly controlled regiments of prolactin so they
would never stop producing milk, the children were never weaned.  Little Fuck-
toy was the only girl with a name--the elder sluts had theirs taken from them,
which they didn't argue with.  They were the Master's cunts, his sluts, and
that's all that mattered.

        Little Fuck-toy became the family recipient of cum.  Whenever the Master
came or verbally allowed his sluts to come, it was in her mouth or dribbled onto
her body.  By the time the thing was two months old it had swallowed more cum
than milk.

        As it grew, it was referred to only as "it" or by its name of Fuck-toy,
and avidly discouraged from speaking.  Early attempts earned it a light swat on
the cheek or ass, and by the time it was around two summers old (without
birthdays that was the only way of figuring out age that there was, and since it
was never written down it became a guess of trying to remember events that
weren't all that important to begin with) it was taking a few inches.

        One midsummer's eve in its second year, the Master decided it was time
to take the thing's ass, and had its mother firmly clamp around its mouth as it
was laid face-down over her lap.  After fucking the eldest slut's cunt to get
his cock nice and moist, he shoved the head into Fuck-toy's asshole.  The eldest
slut held the thing down as its mother rather adroitly kept it from emitting any
but the slightest sounds.

        He didn't dare thrust any more than two inches into the thing's ass, but
it felt wonderful nonetheless.  A whisper from the thing's mother: "Push deeper,
please, Master?  Fuck-toy needs to feel you.  Her little ass can take it, I know
it."

        Smiling around a grunt, he shoved an extra inch into the baby's asshole,
making the eldest cunt grunt as she kept the thing pinned to its mother's lap.
Both of the elder sluts' pussies were dripping as their fuck-toy was living up
to its name, their Master thrusting quicker and quicker into the thing's ass,
gripping its ass cheeks tighter and tighter.  Finally, the Master came, his cum
bubbling and dripping out of little Fuck-toy's stretched asshole.

        When his orgasm subsided he pulled himself out, managed to gasp, "Plug
it's--its hole again--bigger, now..."  Obligingly, the eldest retrieved a larger
plug and shoved it into the thing's ass and strapped it around the baby's hips.
It was then brought to its mother's tits to suckle, and she made sure the breast
cut off any cries.  It would learn soon enough.

        To the thing's credit, it learned rather well.  Intelligence ran in the
cunt side of the gene pool, which is partly why the Master had chosen that girl
so long ago.

        His son was gathered and put to the younger slut's other breast so he
could suckle, and the three laid back in the grass and relaxed.  They exchanged
stories about the births of the two, laughing at how hard it was on the younger
slut.  By halfway through her second trimester she was pretty much restricted
to the bed.  Her slim frame was barely able to contain the fuck-toy and carry it
to term, but they had managed.

        She had tried to resume her slut-duties as soon as possible, though was
kept from anything but her hands and mouth by her Master.  Her pussy needed to
heal or it would be useless to him.  That sated her, though only a little.  He
would get his pleasure, and that's what mattered to her.  It was, though,
unsettling to have to wait.  She confessed, there on the grass, that she was
afraid she wouldn't be of use to him anymore, which made him chuckle.  He
assured her he'd always find use for her.

        At a small gesture, the eldest moved to squat over the face of the
youngest, the latter stretching up to delve her tongue into those shaved lips.
The eldest's hips ground against her daughter's welcoming face, her moans
becoming louder and starting to echo.  Their Master simply enjoyed the show,
loving the way his cunts gave themselves so freely to everything.

        Opening her eyes, the elder slut silently pleaded with her Master for
the release only he could grant.  He smiled to himself, saying nothing, and as
tortured as she was she knew he liked prolonging her rapturous agony.  The
record was thirty-four minutes, but he didn't have the heart to draw it out by
anywhere near that long, then.

        Finally, he murmured, "Come for me, slut..."  And with that she barely
had time to reposition her hips as she came, violently spewing her cum on her
daughter's face and Fuck-toy's back.  Fuck-toy's mother started to move the
thing so it could get a proper face full, but her Master shook his head.  There
was something else to attend to.

        He gave his eldest slut time to collapse onto the grass in a panting,
exhausted heap, and waited while she collected herself.  She was quick to raise
her head, looking at her Master.  "Start the fire inside," he told her, to which
she nodded and managed to get to her feet.

        As that slut headed in, he got his feet as well, dusting off his thighs,
buttocks, and back.  "Come on, then, cunt," he told the younger one, reaching
out for his son so she could get to her feet.

        When they were inside, his son was put into his playpen while the fuck
toy was set on the couch.  The fire was roaring and the eldest slut kneeling
nearby, waiting for direction.  He walked over and rummaged around the pokers
and such next to the fireplace, finally coming out with what was quite obviously
a brand.

        "You two cum-starved sluts," he said with a lopsided grin that matched
the giggles the comment elicited, "are going to get the best gift I can give
you.  I made this design when I was a child, knowing I'd brand all my cunts with
it when they got old enough.  You two have earned this.  What do you two say?"

        The two looked at each other in surprise, beaming grins breaking out.
"Master!" they exclaimed as one, mobbing him and hugging him tightly.  Kisses
wer egiven to hsi cheek, his shoulder--anywhere they could reach.  They didn't
need to be told what the brands meant--not only were they his, as proclaimed by
the collars, but it was more personal.  They were to be marked with his PERSONAL
brand, a design unique to him.  They would be his forever, and the brand proved
it.

        Grinning and trying to maneuver around the naked sluts, he managed to
shove the brand into the fire, then had them cuddle next to him on the floor.

        "Where will it be, Master?" inquired the elder slut out of curiosity.

        "On your ass, just like on any other chattel.  You will be required to
maintain it and inspect it daily.  I'll give you the antibacterial creams and
rinses.  I'll also need to be notified immediately if it may need touching up."

        Both girls nodded emphatically.  Oh, they knew it would hurt; they both
came from a very rural area and had seen steer and horses branded, but they also
knew what the brand meant.  It would hurt, they would certainly scream--but it
would be worth it.

        Twenty or so minutes before the sun would set, they were out by the lake
again.  The elder cunt was tied to a tree in a posture of embracing it.  Thick
rope bound her, keeping her perfectly immobile.  She couldn't move even if she
wanted to.  Though she would have wanted the binding to not be necessary, she
knew that it was.

        A bonfire was roaring nearby, and when the Master retrieved the brand,
it was placed into that fire to get it back up to the appopriate heat level.
When it was ashen grey he pulled it out and wasted no time on ceremony.  It was
placed firmly against her flank, and the resulting shriek echoed loudly off of
the trees.  It actually made her Master's ears ring, but there really wasn't
anything to be done about it.

        When it was done and she was released, she limped away a few yards so
she could ease herself to the ground, careful to keep the brand from touching
the dirt.  On a blanket nearby were the ointments and such that would keep it
from getting infected.  As long as the scabs were continuously scrubbed off, it
would be a rather pretty design against her flesh.

        The brand was put back into the bonfire, then he set about lashing the
younger slut to the tree in the same fashion as her mother.  He didn't think it
was possible, but her scream was even louder than her mother's.  He actually
barely managed to finish the branding properly, as loud as his ears were
ringing.

        When she limped next to her mother, their Master stood back and admired
the work.  It was a simple brand, as such things should be, especially when done
in one shot like this.  A vertical half-circle, the line rounding toward the
viewer's right, and from midway between the points a line curved lightly
downward, ending in a curlicue.  Simple, yet elegant.

        
                                   SIX MONTHS LATER...


        The Master was enjoying watching the eldest slut offer her pussy to
his labrador, as the younger slut shoved Fuck-toy onto his cock.  The baby was
adequately gagged, no sound coming from the squirming thing as it was shoved
onto its father.

        He had just orgasmed, the younger slut helping to coat the fuck toy with
his cum, when there was a knock at the door.  That was surprising; no one came
out this way.  It was too far for the city-born want-to-be hikers, and the
actual hikers were kept away by the sign posts declaring private property.

        Answering the door, the Master was shocked--there stood a man with a
naked young girl at his feet who couldn't have been older than five, kneeling
with her head bowed.

        The man addressed the Master by name, then introduced himself, saying,
"I represent a certain order that, we think, you would be most interested in.
If I may have a few moments of your time...?"


                                      THE END...?

