Chapter 6: Brother’s Dominating Instructions

I loved the shock in Mr. Armstrong’s eyes as he witnessed what a lying bitch his wife was.

He was aghast as he watched his supposed faithful, Christian wife getting wild with my mother and me. The slender man trembled in his doorstep. His hand shook as he stared at the tablet held in my brother’s hand.

Clint’s plan was well underway.

My brother and I stood on the Armstrongs’ porch. On the tablet’s screen, you could see Mrs. Armstrong, recorded by the hidden camera in my purse I’d set up on Clint’s orders, feasting on my mother’s and my pussy. We were tribbing each other as she ate our pussy. She licked up and down our twats, feasting on us with a hunger that was incredible. She moaned as she devoured us.

I shuddered as I remembered this amazing delight from a few days ago.

“This ... this...” Mr. Armstrong looked up at Clint. There was no color left in the man’s face.

“Right now, your wife is at The Lady’s Touch Massage Parlor,” said Clint, his voice powerful. He wasn’t a skinny man. My younger brother had strength. The domination to have claimed every woman in our family, plus others, into his harem.

Even me. I was his sister-with-benefits. Not a lover or a sex slave, but someone who loved her brother’s cock, a change of pace from the lesbian delights I normally enjoyed with Mr. Armstrong’s daughter, Stefani, and other women.

“She’s at that lesbian massage parlor she led the protest against,” Clint continued. “That’s where she is right now. She’s there, getting teased. Touched. Pleasured.”

Mr. Armstrong trembled. “Why are you showing me this?”

“I want to know what you’re going to do about it,” Clint said. “Are you going to be a man? Are you going to rule your wife? You’re a Christian, Mr. Armstrong. You’re supposed to be the head of your household. Look at your wife. Look at how wanton she’s become. Time for you to take charge of your wife.”

The man swallowed. “I don’t ... She ... This is...”

I shook my head in disgust.

“It’s okay, Mr. Armstrong,” Clint said, thrusting the tablet into my hands, my moans coming out of the cheap speakers. I turned it off as Clint continued, “I’ll teach you. Let’s go.”

“Go?” the weak man said.

“Yeah, go,” I said, taking his hand and pulling on him. “Let’s go take care of your wife.”

Mr. Armstrong stumbled after me on the walk from his front door to his car. It was Saturday morning, the sun was out, his neighbors doing their yard work, standard suburban activity. Mrs. Armstrong pretended she fit in. A perfect wife. A pillar of her church.

A closet lesbian who shunned her daughter for loving me.

My blood boiled. I squeezed Mr. Armstrong’s hand, almost crushing it. He winced as I marched to Clint’s car. I pushed the older man towards the rear door. He slipped into the back seat, his eyes distant. He looked utterly rocked. His wife had betrayed him.

The cunt had to pay.

I slipped into the passenger seat as Clint drove. Mr. Armstrong made strangled noises as we drove through our town, heading towards The Lady Touch Massage Parlor. It was the brainchild of a family friend. Juana was a dominating lesbian who, with Clint’s help, turned her older sister into a sex slave. Carmelita was Mrs. Armstrong’s favorite masseuse.

She was taking care of the cheating bitch right now.

Clint didn’t take us to the front of the massage parlor, but to a small parking lot behind the building. It was the rear entrance. We couldn’t have men being seen entering our lesbian massage parlor. It was a safe place for women to be free to enjoy themselves.

Lee opened the back door and beckoned us inside. My little sister had a huge grin on her face, making her look even younger, a child with her hand in the cookie jar and not caring that she was caught. Her short, black hair swayed about her face.

My brassy hair swayed as I stood up, my nipples aching atop my large breasts. Clint wrenched open the car’s back door and hauled out Mr. Armstrong. The man looked dazed. He stumbled as Clint pushed him to the door.

“Wow, Master,” Lee said, staring at Mr. Armstrong, “what did you do to him?”

“Truth sucks sometimes,” Clint said, his voice hard. He believed a man should take charge of his family. It was a philosophy our deceased father shared. He had raised Clint, molding him subtly to be ready to take charge of his sisters. With the premature loss of our dad, Clint had to step up to take charge of every woman, especially our mother drowning in grief.

“Mr. Armstrong,” Lee said, “your wife is with one of our skilled masseuses. Your wife’s a regular, you know.”

“I ... I...” Mr. Armstrong said.

Lee led the way. I smiled as we passed Room 3 on our way to Room 4. I glanced at the door, hearing the faint moans coming from the room as Mrs. Armstrong enjoyed herself. I smiled as we went into Room 4.

It was set up differently than normal. We had a large TV in here hooked up to a computer. There was a security camera feed. We had added a single spycam to Room 3, something just for today. We didn’t normally record our clients.

We wanted them to have privacy.

On the screen was Mrs. Armstrong climbing onto the massage table. Carmelita was lying on her back, her Golden-Brown skin contrasting with the married woman’s paler skin. Mr. Armstrong groaned as he watched his wife lick her lips and lean her head down.

“Mmm, yes, yes,” moaned Carmelita, her round breasts jiggling. She had a landing strip leading to her shaved pussy. “Get down to there and exercise that tongue. You were so mean to us. After all the pleasure I gave you, you tried to destroy us.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Armstrong. “I just freaked out.”

She pressed her face into Carmelita’s cunt. She licked as Mr. Armstrong groaned. He stared at the screen, watching as Carmelita shuddered. Mrs. Armstrong had her tongue jammed in the Hispanic slave’s pussy. It was incredible to watch. The MILF’s round tits swayed beneath her. Her auburn hair spilled around her head. Her rump was gorgeous.

I wanted to spank that ass.

“What is going on?” Mr. Armstrong said.

“That’s a live feed of what’s happening in the next room,” Clint said. “Your wife is in there, getting her weekly massage. You can hear her through the walls.” Clint picked up a remote and hit the mute button. Through the walls, you could hear the faint moans continue on.

Clint unmuted it.

“Why are you doing this?” Mr. Armstrong groaned. “Why punish me?”

“Punish you?” Clint demanded, anger rising. “I want to inspire you to take charge. Your wife tried to destroy this place because she’s a hypocritical cunt. She freaked out because she enjoyed the things she does here. She writhed and shuddered and came over and over, and she loved it. And you know why?”

Mr. Armstrong shook his head.

“Because you weren’t a man,” Clint growled, jamming a finger into Mr. Armstrong’s chest. “You didn’t give your wife what she needed. It takes more than just being a milquetoast provider for your family. You have to give your wife the pleasures she needs. You have to be strong. You have to be the man of the house. When she’s bad, you have to correct her. When she’s good, you have to reward her. Love her.

“Make her cum.”

“Do you make your wife cum?” I asked.

He swallowed.

“That’s what I thought,” Clint said. “She’s found a way to cum, and she loves it. So you have a choice. Be a pussy, stay in here, and watch her soil your marriage, or go in there and take control of your wife. There’s no divorce for Christians, right? There’s no getting away from her. That’s a sin your wife’s committing. You have to take control of her.”

His back straightened. I smiled as Clint molded the man. My brother knew what to say. I could see a spine forming in Mr. Armstrong for the first time. It was amazing to witness. His fists clenched. His eyes were on the screen.

“It’s your duty to take charge of her,” Clint said. “Your responsibility as the head of the household, as a Christian husband.”

It was an amazing delight to witness my brother work. It was incredible to see Mr. Armstrong becoming a man before my very eyes. He was kind of sexy now. I mean, nothing like my brother, but when a man had confidence. When he possessed a spine and wasn’t a beta-male wuss whose wife would rather have a stranger diddle her twat, it was a sight to behold.

“So are you going to just stand there and watch your wife eat pussy, or are you going to do something about it?” Clint demanded.

“Do something about it,” growled Mr. Armstrong.

He marched out of the room. He wrenched open the door. I loved it. I trembled in here as Mr. Armstrong marched down the hallway. I stared at the screen, Mrs. Armstrong feasting on Carmelita’s cunt, making her moan. The door crashed open. Mrs. Armstrong’s head snapped up.

She froze. The color drained from her face.

“Todd!” she gasped, her hands covering her naked tits, pussy cream dripping off her chin.

“What is going on here, Ruth?” Mr. Armstrong growled.

I shuddered in delight, following Clint out of the room, my pussy itching. Stefani appeared. My girlfriend had a huge grin on her lips. She grabbed my hand as she headed into the room to watch the fun, my lover almost bubbling with excitement.

“Make that pile of flaming shit pay, Clint,” Stefani said.

My brother flashed her a confident smile. I was so wet right now. I wanted to just mount my brother right now. I wanted to ride his cock. I needed him in me. I wanted his cum spurting into my pussy. I rubbed my belly, aching for his seed to spill into me.

I was in the middle of my cycle. I hadn’t taken the pill in days.

“What is going on here, Ruth!” demanded Mr. Armstrong as we reached the door. A naked Carmelita slipped out, a big grin on her face. She winked at us and licked her lips. She was loving this plan, too.

The protest almost destroyed her sister-mistress’s dream. This massage parlor was all Juana’s idea. She poured her soul into it.

“Huh, Ruth?” Mr. Armstrong demanded. “You claimed this place molested you, but here you are, doing things to that girl. You were ... were ... eating her pussy like a dyke!”

“Todd, I...” Mrs. Armstrong shuddered. “It’s this place. They’re blackmailing me.”

“Because you were cheating on me!?” Mr. Armstrong roared. “Because you were eating Zoey’s pussy and that other woman’s? Whose else pussies were you eating? How many other women are you cheating on me with?”

Mrs. Armstrong hunched over as she trembled on the bed. Her face was lowered. Tears were forming in her eyes. Her shoulders shook. Then the tears fell down her cheeks. She sobbed as her husband marched on her.

“Well, Ruth?” he demanded. “You claim to love me, and what are you doing?”

She just kept sobbing. Her face flushed now. Her breasts jiggled as she tried to hide them. She was hunched over, looking so pathetic. It made me wet. I gripped my brother’s hands, grinning as I witnessed her pain.

She caused my lover so much grief. This cunt hurt Stefani so much, and now she was going to pay.

“Look at me, Ruth, and speak to me,” Mr. Armstrong said. “I want answers. You’re my wife. You swore to be faithful to me before God, and look at what you’re doing! No wonder our daughter fell into sin!”

Mrs. Armstrong flinched.

“You have to discipline her,” Clint said. “Spank her.”

Mr. Armstrong’s strength sagged out of him. He glanced at Clint with this helpless look on his face. His anger was propelling him, but now he had to do something. Not just yell at her. He clearly didn’t know how to handle a woman.

Clint had spanked me a few times. Especially that time when he learned I was working at a strip club and hiding it from the family. He had been furious to learn it. He gave me a choice: to be spanked and take my punishment, or to leave the family.

I was glad I took it.

“You do it like this,” Clint growled. He marched forward and grabbed Mrs. Armstrong and hauled her off the massage table. She gasped, stumbling, her auburn hair flying around her face. Her breasts bounced as Clint spun her around.

“Wait, what?” the MILF gasped as Clint bent her over the massage table. He pinned her down with his strong, left arm. His biceps bulged and flexed. He might be a college student studying law, but he was still strong.

He worked out. He was a man.

CRACK!

His hand landed hard on her rump. I groaned, my pussy clenching beneath my skirt. Without any panties beneath my loose dress, my juices had no obstruction. They leaked out of my shaved twat and trickled down my thighs as I watched that bright, red handprint forming on her rippling butt-cheek while she cried out in pain.

“What?” she gasped.

CRACK!

That sound made me shudder.

“A wife doesn’t cheat on her husband,” growled Clint. “She respects him. Obeys him. Loves and supports him! And in exchange, he will take care of her.”

CRACK!

“She’s not a whore. Not a slut. Not a bitch who makes her daughter cry.”

CRACK!

“Yes,” I moaned, trembling.

CRACK!

Mrs. Armstrong shuddered on the massage table. She gasped and shuddered, her back arching as he kept her pinned down. Her dark-red hair flew about her face. Real tears fell down her cheeks. Tears of pain, not those fake ones she tried to use to get her husband’s sympathy.

CRACK!

“A real wife loves and obeys him. That’s what a good, Christian woman does, right?”

CRACK!

“Yes!” sobbed Mrs. Armstrong as she shuddered on the massage table.

CRACK!

“So what does that make you?” demanded Clint.

CRACK!

“A ... A ... a whore!”

CRACK!

“That’s right. You’re a fucking cheating whore! A bitch who revels in her sin behind her husband’s back!”

CRACK!

This was so hot. Mr. Armstrong watched with wide eyes as Clint disciplined his wife. That sound of smacking spanks echoed through the massage room. My hips wiggled from side to side, my large breasts jiggling in my dress. It was sleeveless, held up by an elastic band around my tits. My nipples throbbed.

CRACK!

This was so hot. I hoped Stefani was masturbating hard in the other room or getting eaten out by Carmelita as she watched this amazing moment. I couldn’t look away as Clint showed Mr. Armstrong how to be a man.

CRACK!

“Do you understand, Mr. Armstrong?” Clint demanded. “How to treat your wife?”

He nodded.

Clint shifted to the side. “Well?”

smack

It was such a limp-wristed spanking. I shook my head in disgust as Mr. Armstrong pulled back his hand. He swallowed as his wife shuddered on the massage table, her ass a bright red. The woman whimpered.

“What was that?” Clint demanded. CRACK! “This is how you spank a woman.” CRACK!

“Look at her moaning. Listen to her accepting her discipline. She knows she’s a slut. That she deserves this.”

“I do,” the woman sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. Pain burned in her voice, but something else. Something I heard in Mom’s or Lee’s or Aunt Vicky’s voices when Clint spanked them.

Pleasure.

CRACK!

Mrs. Armstrong was growing aroused. Her bush was soaked with her juices. I could see her plump pussy lips peeking through those dark-red curls. Her excitement dribbled down her thighs, overflowing her bush.

CRACK!

“Do you see?” Clint growled. He then shoved his hand between Mrs. Armstrong’s thighs. He rubbed the married woman’s cunt before her husband. “Have you ever seen your wife this wet?”

Mr. Armstrong shook his head.

“When a woman knows she deserves to be spanked, when it comes from a strong man, she can’t help her reaction,” Clint said. “Her body responds. The pain fuels her anticipation of pleasure. She needs it, and you’ve denied it to her. She’s found it from other sources. Not from you. If you were a man, she never would have cheated on you. My women don’t cheat on me.”

“No, they don’t,” I moaned. Melody was horrified when she almost did, which she came so close to with another boy. It devastated her that she had flirted so close with infidelity.

She needed to be disciplined hard that night.

CRACK!

“Try again,” Clint growled.

Smack.

My brother growled in disgusting, shaking his head.

CRACK!

“Make her moan!” Clint snarled.

CRACK!

“Make her beg for your cock!”

CRACK!

“Listen to her. She needs it. She needs a man to fuck her.”

“Right, slut?” he growled.

CRACK!

“I ... I...” The woman shuddered. “I need something. I’m so turned on. It hurts, Todd, but ... but...”

CRACK!

“Beg for it,” my brother growled. “Beg for a man to fuck you! I know you love cock as much as pussy. You’re a whore, aren’t you?”

CRACK!

“I am!” she moaned. “I’m a slut. A dyke-whore. A cunt! I need it! I’m such a terrible wife! I need a man to fuck me! I need something! Anything!”

CRACK!

The zipper rasped. Not Mr. Armstrong’s. He just stood there watching stunned. Clint pulled out his cock. My pussy clenched hard as my brother thrust his dick into Mrs. Armstrong’s cunt. My lover’s mother gasped in delight as Clint’s big shaft filled her. Her flaming butt-cheeks rippled.

The woman’s back arched. My hand plunged beneath my skirt, sliding up my airy dress. I found my sopping pussy. I stroked my shaved lips as I watched my brother fuck the MILF right before her husband. He just stood there, watching as his wife moaned and bucked and savored being fucked.

“This is what your wife needs!” growled Clint as he buried again and again into the married woman’s twat. “She needs a man to fuck her. To control her. She’s wild. She’s a sinful cunt.”

“Yes!” I hissed, thrusting two fingers into my pussy. “Fuck the bitch!”

I churned my cunt up to a froth as Mr. Armstrong watched my brother cuckold him. The older man swallowed, his cheeks growing red. I loved it. He was so pathetic. The man had disowned Stefani for loving me as much as that cunt gasping on my brother’s cock.

He deserved this as much as that slut.

My fingers frigged my cunt. The heel of my hand ground against my clit. Pleasure surged through my body. My twat squeezed around my pussy. Juices soaked my hand. My tart aroma filled my nose as I loved my cunt.

“Yes, yes, fuck her like a man,” I moaned, my brother’s jeans sliding down his ass. He thrust into the married MILF, his dark-blue boxers clinging to his cute butt. “Pound the slut.”

“Yes, yes, fuck me!” Mrs. Armstrong moaned, delirious with joy. She humped her cunt back into my brother’s strokes. Her tear-stained face twisted with passion as she tossed her head. “Pound me! Oh, my god, this is incredible.”

I thrust a third finger into my cunt. I shuddered as I stretched out my own cunt. A delirious rapture rippled through me. Every time I buried my fingers into my cunt, my orgasm built and built inside of me. My pussy drank it in. This wonderful delight fluttered through me.

My brother pounded her while her husband watched. Clint was such a hunk. His muscles flexed beneath his t-shirt as he fucked her. His balls smacked into Mrs. Armstrong. His crotch spanked her cherry-red ass. The massage table creaked and rocked as he pounded her.

My cunt squeezed around my fingers. The friction was incredible. This pleasure was incredible. My toes curled in my sandals. I glanced back at the camera, knowing my lover was watching the fun. She was having a blast seeing her mother bucking on my brother’s cock.

“Are you going to cum on my dick, slut?” growled my brother as he buried into the MILF’s married twat.

“Yes!” she moaned, her voice throaty with bliss. “I’m going to explode.”