The Theft of Our Lives 06 Pt. 02

Strangely, Emma's rambling willingness to give Kerri's tight pussy over to the awful man as if it was just a commodity for trade like some worthless whore, and the unpleasantness of the idea of actually fucking the reprehensible wealthy older man, only drove our resolute coed onward to finish her perverse task.

Perhaps not coincidentally, not long after Emma and Nate achieved their ecstatic crescendo under a hail of foul language and warped sexual promises, Carl came too, spewing his feeble emission of thin spunk into Kerri's steamy cunt.

"Unngggh," the venerable retiree issued a satisfied grunt, gripping our tired, sweaty coed's narrow hips tightly while filling her receptive chamber with his decrepit jism.

Although the old man was only our novice daughter's second full-on 'fuck,' Kerri recognized the moment and stopped bouncing, seating herself firmly in place letting the wheezing 80-year-old geezer fill her pussy with his watery cum.

Grunting harshly and practically snorting through her finely-chiseled nose from her arduous effort, it was difficult for me to determine whether she had climaxed as well. My sense was she was so relieved to be done and rest her tired legs that she didn't care.

Kerri's glistening body dripped sweat from every pore, collapsing against the elderly man in exhaustion. Carl didn't mind one bit, immediately clamping his frail hands around each of her firm, dense tits. Lifting the heavy cones, he lightly teased her crinkled nipples, with the pale glands rising and falling on her rapidly expanding and deflating chest as she recovered.

"Shit, Ray, your wife is a helluva great fuck!" Nate exclaimed coarsely in exaltation. "I've never seen a woman need a cock as much as she needs mine, and her hungry little snatch just swallows it up too."

"I can't wait for the chance to fuck Emma in your bed," he crowed, pulling up his pants and returning to the sofa next to Chuck, who's eyes were wide in stunned amazement watching the entire show.

Emma shrank to the table surface in a fetal curl from the embarrassment of her lurid promises and absolute capitulation, while I stood there meekly listening to the gloating rich man compliment me about my loving wife's weakness for his thick cock.

Publicly emasculated and humiliated, my own stiff prick nonetheless stood hard out the front of my pants. Although I stopped stroking moments earlier to the disturbing vision of Nathan Wagnell fucking my devoted wife doggy-style, the frantic moans of Emma's ardent sexual pleasure kept me stiff as a board.

Hank certainly was pleased with Nate's performance, and knowing my boss, I suspected he'd make many of Emma's forced admissions to the ostensibly charitable man come true in the coming months, including taking Kerri's young pussy while her parents watched in shame.

Nate's cock left a glob of sticky white jism dripping from Emma's distended pussy lips, with his copious semen pooling at the messy aperture of her gaping cavern and dribbling to the leather padding of the coffee table, where Emma had collapsed with the tremendous release of her orgasm overwhelming her mind and senses.

Physically desecrated and emotionally exhausted, Emma was only capable of lying on the table shedding tears and breathing heavily. My despairing wife sobbed quietly with recognition at how easily she yielded to her sexual need of Nate's strong cock, knowing she'd demeaned herself and our marriage, while also betraying our guileless and caring daughter.

Worse, Emma knew in her heart of hearts she'd do any and every one of the depraved acts she so regrettably confessed to everyone in the room at the height of her lust, such was the hold Nate's mighty shaft possessed over my otherwise reserved wife.

Kerri was suffering exhaustion of a different kind, barely able to move her legs while recovering from the strain she endured making Carl cum into her gripping pussy. Wiped out, she could lay on Carl's chest, unprotesting and simply not caring as he casually played and pulled on her resilient tits.

"Huh, uh, huh," Carl huffed with difficulty breathing, which Hank noticed, and he quickly grabbed our listless daughter by the hand and pulled her from the specially designed fucking saddle and off his father.

Kerri's legs were rubber from stretching so wide for so long, and Hank easily dragged her over to the coffee table, depositing her in a lump opposite the prostrate form of her shuddering mother. Face to face, and crippled by either emotional turmoil or physical exhaustion, the defiled women lay together hoping their night was through and uncertain what to expect next.

**********************************

Hank's night was moving wonderfully to plan, and he contentedly contemplated this gift to his father -- the man who'd given him his wonderful lifestyle of power to control lives, decadence, and debauchery.

"Honestly, I haven't had this much fun since Jane took down that smart, big-titted Ellie Harris in the new London office last year," he commented to no one but himself.

Marveling at his much-maligned older sibling's destruction of the pretty blonde threat to her job security and position, Jane had brought about the proud and proper British wife's downfall in a devious and conniving scheme even he found impressive.

"I have to give Jane credit for her triumph over that haughty tart," my boss pondered, enjoying his use of the English slang, and thinking fondly about the upstart rival to his big sister and how Jane brought the woman to heel. "Not to mention turning that unfortunate lass into an excellent cocksucker."

The entire set-up, its execution, and ultimate conclusion was so thoroughly humiliating and degrading to the hapless wife it actually made Hank proud for the first time to call Jane his sister.

"I may need to get out to London again soon and see how the situation is working out," Hank decided, imagining the tamed Mrs. Harris submissively fulfilling every order Jane Allenby demanded of her new 'assistant.'

Now, he had my family sinking step-by-step into a sexual abyss by performing ever more degrading acts before their audience in servitude to Hank's demands. Blonde Maggie Reynolds and her two pretty, beguiling twin daughters Suzy and Jaxy were also moving closer and closer to absolute moral depravity.

Hank had sampled the two 18-year-olds individually at his bungalow and taken their petite curly-haired mother enough times to convince himself she was thoroughly tamed, but this was the first incidence of putting the three together, with his good buddy Ike the lucky recipient.

My self-confident boss was certain he'd broken Emma too, extinguishing any hope of escape from her humiliating surrender and returning to a normal life, but you never knew with women as morally strong as my wife.

That, along with her role ensnaring our 19-year-old daughter, and then the esteem-shattering confession of her need for Nate's big cock and the disgraceful things she'd do to get it, led him to believe it was all the evidence he needed.

Kerri was another matter, however.

Our supplicating daughter had properly acquiesced so far, ultimately giving her body in satisfaction of his increasingly deviant requests, but she'd done so partly in obeisance to her mother, and partly out of loyalty to our family.

While Kerri demonstrated some naturally submissive qualities in response to his increasingly odious demands, Hank wasn't yet convinced he'd broken her will or reduced her self-esteem until her willingness to perform ever more degrading acts matched her mother and became the predominant factor in her servitude to my ruthless boss.

The next stage of the evening was upon them, and Hank intended to use Emma's shattered psyche to address his concerns about Kerri, lowering our willful daughter another rung on the ladder of shame by pushing his new sex toys to places they'd never considered possible.

To do so, Hank needed to take advantage of Emma's weakened emotional state, leveraging her guilt and fear, and he needed to act quickly. The reverential son had promised his father a unique show, and he intended to deliver on that promise right now.

"Emma, look at your daughter. She's exhausted. I mean, she should be after giving dad such a great ride. You should be proud. Kerri's becoming a quality fuck doll just like her mother," Hank praised, purposefully denigrating the two in the cloak of a compliment designed to push Emma into the forbidden territory of her next spectacle.

"Seriously though, dad left a sloppy mess in her pussy," he duplicitously shook his head with mock disapproval.

Foggy and disheveled by her utter submission to Nate, without objection my wife glanced between Kerri's splayed limbs, widespread and shaking from exhaustion.

As he described, Carl's thin spunk pooled as a congealing white glob at the mouth of Kerri's soiled vagina, with the translucent semen smearing her ragged labia and matting her soft auburn pussy curls, leaving her swollen cunt fucked raw from the half-hour spent taking the lecherous old man's hard cock.

"See what you've done for your daughter, Emma? She's becoming more like you every day," Hank observed, heartlessly twisting the knife of guilt while falsely implying it was a positive development.

"It's probably for the best too. I mean, you both clearly have bodies built for fucking -- like mother, like daughter," he claimed impiously, pivoting to play on Emma's diminished self-esteem and reluctant new role as facilitator of Kerri's disgrace and undoing.

Hank's ploy of toying with my frazzled wife's moral compass was effective, and she disconsolately shed an internal tear at the thought of what she was doing to our only daughter, until Hank interrupted her misery by playing on her deeply ingrained maternal instincts to manipulate her to do his atrocious bidding.

"She looks wrecked, Emma. I think she's too tired to even clean herself," our devious host posited, setting out his next obscene request.

"Kerri's a good little sex kitten, be a good mother cat and clean Kerri of that messy cum," Hank analogized deliberately, pausing to let Emma digest the words, as their true meaning hung suspended in her ears and those of her audience.

Emma was dazed, but not completely out of it, becoming immediately aware of Hank's intentions and sitting up suddenly with her green eyes widening, while vehemently shaking her head in spontaneous refusal.

As for Kerri, she was zonked and apparently not too conscious of what was happening because she didn't react at all.

I'd normally expect a strident rejection had Kerri known what her mother was asked to do to her well-fucked pussy, but she was simply too tired to understand Hank's not-so-subtle innuendo. Instead, she lolled about on the coffee table recuperating, as if she'd just completed the mile run for the track team.

Of course, I knew what Hank wanted, as did every other man in the room, and my hand subconsciously drifted back to my rigid prick to give a gentle tug.

Maggie knew too, her piercing blues eyes lit with recognition of the abominable task, but she dutifully continued suckling one of Ike's big balls and encouraging her daughters to keep their mouths at the man's giant cock, lest they get drawn into a similarly immoral exhibition.

"No, no, Hank. Not that. I won't do that. I can't do that," Emma haltingly implored, clearly traumatized, with tears welling in her sorrowful eyes.

My distraught wife's breathing shallowed, with her lower lip trembling and her mortified gaze beseeching the room for reprieve. This was too much -- too perverse and too depraved. The mere thought of Hank's new demand was too horrible to conceive and a line she simply couldn't cross.

Even after all the lewd and demeaning acts she'd committed with men -- men other than her husband, and now asking Kerri to commit as well, she couldn't imagine being with our sweet daughter, that way. She couldn't accept touching Kerri there, or worse, using her mouth there.

"I'll clean her up. Please, just get me a washcloth," Emma offered as a desperate alternative, but that wasn't going to satisfy Hank, turning up the pressure instead.

"Well, I can't make you, Emma," Hank suggested, perfidiously allowing a small ray of hope to enter my agitated wife's mind, before crushing it cruelly under his heel.

"Of course, it's such a shame. Everything you've done in breaking your marital vows and undermining your self-worth. Every man you've fucked. Every cock you've sucked. Every drop of cum you've swallowed. All for nothing," he falsely despaired, letting the distressing news take hold before closing the deal.

"Of course, Kerri will have done those nasty things too, and all for nothing," he viciously bedeviled Emma. "I mean, jerking off Ike's big black cock and sucking off Ted Jenkins, not to mention her college faculty advisor."

Emma stood frozen hearing the litany of disgraceful deeds foisted upon our unworldly, 19-year-old coed.

"Oh, and let's not forget about fucking me and dad," Hank added needlessly. "All for nothing."

Another pause.

"Everything will be for nothing," he preached ominously, "because you and Ray will go to jail, and your family will be destroyed and spread to the winds."

That was the straw that crushed my discouraged wife -- thinking she'd turned our precious freckle-faced daughter into a sex toy for Hank and his cronies. All for nothing. That was the worst thing imaginable. It was already too devastating as it was, but it at least had to mean something -- to serve some purpose, such as keeping our family together.

"Whhhyyyyy?" Emma bawled aloud, dipping her head to her hands, and sobbing a forlorn wail as her body trembled, with the horrendous thought sending her jello-y breasts quivering with unintentional allure as her shoulders shook.

As was so often the case in these moments of Emma desperately searching Hank for an answer, my deliberate boss stood silently expectant.

"I'm not a lesbian, Hank. I've never even considered sex with a woman," she murmured aimlessly in a psychological dodge of the truly horrifying aspect of his indecent request.

Hank smiled at her squeamish admission, taking a demented satisfaction in her angst, and knowing Emma was futilely ignoring the genuinely repugnant aspect of the task by shielding herself with the pretense of her distaste for the homosexual act, while avoiding the incestuous nature of his disturbing dictate.

My devious boss understood that ultimately, she needed to confront her worst fears and revulsion, and how thrillingly erotic it would be when she did.

"With Kerri? Ohhh, dear lord, how can I? That's an abomination. I can't. I just can't!" she gasped aloud without realizing it, certainly never considering incest with any relative, and especially not our adult children.

Her misgivings aside, Emma nonetheless understood she'd commit both taboos to preserve our family, and at the same time. Hank simply gave her no choice, and she knew it. Her unmitigated disgust was clear with her every movement, but her unrestrained despair also titillated every man in the room, anxious to see the loath mother perform the forbidden act on our pretty, debilitated daughter.

I should have been every bit as offended and disgusted as Emma and done something. Anything. But I didn't.

"Clean your soiled daughter, Emma. Clean her everywhere. Clean her pussy," my vile boss ordered stoically, morally breaking my subverted wife to the unenviable task and making his expectation clear.

Hank wanted no further delay by Emma, not letting her off the hook and not wanting Kerri to regain her strength to resist the unthinkable cleansing.

Aghast, demoralized, and defeated, Emma cast a disassociated gaze at our listless coed laying on her back, drained and vulnerable. Scooting between Kerri's feet, her saddle shoes carelessly set flat on the tabletop, she stared at the gooey mix of cum and juices marking her sodden pussy.

"Oh, please, help me through this," she issued a silent prayer as tears streamed from her forlorn green eyes, but then brought her sniffling under control enough to lean between Kerri's limp legs, moving towards her forbidden target.

Never having done such a thing before, Emma didn't really know how to begin.

Observing the moisture smearing Kerri's inner thighs near the junction of her sex, my unschooled wife thought it best to start there and work into the unnatural act. Placing a hand on our daughter's weakened knees for better access, Emma pushed them apart, exposing her fouled vagina to better advantage.

We watched with bated breath as my naked, inexperienced 39-year-old, hetero wife inched closer, with each man eagerly anticipating the first touch of a mother's tongue so close to her own daughter's sloppy, cum-saturated pussy.

"Huh," Emma uncertainly drew a breath, closing her eyes and slipping her tongue delicately to touch the tip against the warm skin of Kerri's left inner thigh.

Immediately sensing she was too far from the offending residue of unsavory sex, she opened her eyes again, finding her way and trailing her tongue lightly along the inside of Kerri's leg until tasting the salty sweet combination of fluids a scant inch away from her wet snatch.

Still warm, the familiar smell of recent sex filled Emma's nostrils, and holding back her tears, she gently licked the vicinity around the dampness, with her light touch tickling Kerri and drawing her abruptly from her stupor with a jolt.

"Mom! What are you doing? Get away!" our coed's traumatized voice reached a high-pitched shriek, her eyes wild with shock, and her body cringing from the proximity of Emma's mouth to her pussy.

Kerri was scared and queasy, all at once. Much like her mother, Kerri never had any lesbian tendencies. She certainly never thought of her mother and sex in the same sentence, at least not prior to the recent revelations about Emma's servitude and the many humiliating acts she'd performed at Hank's behest.

"NO, NO!" Kerri screeched, urgently resisting by instinctively clamping her strong thighs together, but Emma's head and shoulders were already wedged firmly between her legs preventing their closure.

Her course decided, my steadfast wife's response to our squirming daughter's unsurprising abhorrence was swift and sure, pressing her arms against Kerri's legs keeping them separated, then driving them back and to each side, limiting her ability to maneuver.

At her height and size, Emma is a formidable woman -- an athlete in college hailing from an athletic background. I'm sure it's the side of the family our kids get their athleticism from, as my side is more the bookish, academic type. While normally powerful herself, Kerri's legs were simply still too tired to fight back effectively against her resolute mother.

Emma's fake glasses maintained her intimidating persona as the harsh schoolteacher, Mrs. Tyler, and she employed them in a simple psychological ploy designed to divorce herself from the sinful act she was about to perform and render it at least bearable.

"Kerri Jean, behave! You're a mess and you need to be cleaned," Mrs. Tyler chastised in her strict teacher tone, using her middle name for emphasis.

Unable to adequately oppose the challenge, our hysterical daughter pleaded with her mother instead.

"Mom, please! Don't! It's wrong. You know it's wrong!" she begged, tears welling in her eyes at the understanding of what was about to happen and her inability to prevent it.

Hank, Carl, and Nate sat grinning at the drama of a straight, prim mother taking her virtuous daughter sexually, even while knowing they were coerced, and the effort not genuine. Even Ike peeked over the heads of the Reynolds' women servicing his unyielding cock, fascinated by a scene the jaded businessman didn't see often, even living in Hank's demented world.