Dad's Kinky New Wife Ch. 02

He replied, "She said, you're not breeding me with my dad. I'm not an animal."

"No dear, you're not an animal. You're a daddy loving cum slut. You've already shown you're not revolted by such a role. Calm the fuck down or you'll hurt yourself."

Raising her head off the pillow, Carol eyed her mother's back. "Mo—om, Plz elp me!" she wailed.

"Oh dear, she needs her mommy. Boy, after we're done here, I want you to go around the house and cover every mirror. I have a notion as to the cause of Martha's obsession. Regardless, she'll be useless to my agenda with such a fixation. Moving her about the house would be a chore. For now, toss a blanket over that one."

Turning to address Carol, the woman said, "Your mother isn't quite herself anymore. No doubt you're confused over her odd behavior, but it's fortuitous and funny to me. It's gratifying to know that she's a more promiscuous version than her daughter. But, I promise, I'll make a great effort to even out that minor disparity."

After the mirror was covered, Martha awoke from the trance. "Paul, who is that tawdry looking woman and why is my mother tied naked to our bed?"

His attempted reply was a stutter that ended with a blank stare.

Kasha leaned and whispered in Paul's ear. "Don't just stand there like a ninny, boy. Divert her attention from questions and get your new wife hot and bothered. Bring her to the to the edge and then playtime will begin. I promise, do as I say and you'll get your chance to shoot your wad."

***

Lurid Examination

Carol wanted to scream.

Instead, she growled and turned her head sideways to avoid slobber that dribbled from her mother's chin.

She was unmoved by her mom's eager performance to give Paul a blowjob like a porn-star from some fetish deepthroat movie. She no longer found such lurid acts distasteful.

They conducted that explicit action while hovered inches above her face, but even that didn't disturb her until drool rained upon her cheek. She was perplexed as to why they'd been propped in that position. It inhibited her field of vision to just a pair of dangling balls and her mother's slithering bottom lip. She found nothing erotic about it.

There were no rationalizing today's events. Although she'd come to terms with the affair with her father, what the couple was doing was irrational and it prompted her to remain cautious. Admittedly, she felt demoralized but refused to give in by overreacting and flaunting that dispirited mood. Other than that, she was emotionally exhausted. She felt no sorrow at knowing her mother debased herself like a skank inches above her face.

It was obvious their deplorable action was intended to humiliate and demean her. Instead, she was unresponsive and impassive. No doubt, her best course of action would be to remain so and refuse to participate in their attempted shame.

She needed to acquire understanding as to what was going on, so she remained silent, watched, and listened.

She heard the grunts, moans, and the salivating pops and smacks produced by her mother's working mouth.

She felt their profuse sweat falling as driblets upon her face.

She smelled the heavy aroma of a musky scent from sex that radiated from their genitals and perforated the air around her.

She heard their pronounced exhaustion voiced as painful squeals and heavy exhalation of breaths.

Yet, even fatigued as they were, they seemed driven to perform and unwilling to stop. What drove them to conduct themselves in this manner?

She noted their incessant actions were increasing at a feverish pitch. After a time, that abnormal behavior became puzzling and it led her to question why they were incapable of concluding that sordid act.

The entirety of her scrutiny urged consideration at the possibility that neither of them was willing participants. If so, how did that nefarious woman acquire the power to sway them into performing like human sex-toys absent an off switch? Why didn't the bitch do the same to her?

Those questions led to pondering over her dad. She was now concern over his well-being. It manifested as profound worry causing her to fidget with her restraints. Most assuredly, the commotion from earlier would've awakened him. Such a man as he would forfeit his life to save anyone from harm. Yet, he hadn't heroically appeared. After the blond woman instructed the couple to their task, she'd left the room. Where did she go and what had she done with her father?

There was no question the incestuous masquerade from yesterday had awakened her. That unorthodox encounter had tapped into unconditional love and flowered it into an unconventional passion. She felt uninhibited. She now yearned to once again embrace her father without deceit. Something precious was lost in that process, but in return, she felt as if she'd been gifted back something unique.

***

Here it Cums

Kesha waltzed into the room with a sorrowful expression and calmly said, "Paul, I give you permission to cum."

He immediately reacted with a loud groan and a forward thrust followed by a creamy torrent that was jettisoned to the back of Martha's throat. Having carried such a need for a lengthy time, his seed streamed as powerful spurts of globular white splotches. It became a cluster amounting to more than a tablespoon and drooled from around the mother's lips to trickle down as collected plops at the corner of Carol's mouth and upon her cheek.

The consequence of such a release was jarring and euphoric. It caused him to teeter backward followed with a shuffle from the bed. With unsteady footing, he attempted to stand, but his legs wobbled and gave way. With a grunt, he dropped to his knees and then flopped onto his back. He said not a word to express satisfaction, only a head nod, a sigh, and a weary connotation. He closed his eyes and simply went to sleep.

The gypsy said, "Poor boy. Hasn't slept for over a day. Let him rest to recharge his honey."

"No!" Martha cried. "This isn't fair. I haven't come yet. Why won't you let me—like you did him? I'm so damn horny. I need to fuck. I need release!"

"Bah, you've become a rambunctious slut since becoming the daughter. You're like a spoiled little girl with her hand out demanding candy. Do as I say and you'll get your chance. The boy will be needed later. I require him rested. Your responsibility is to clean the hussy. She carries the smell of sex from her day-long dalliance with dad—ah, I mean, her husband. Get a wet rag and then diligently cleanse the filth from her body. That's your task. After you're done, I'll let all of you rest."

Martha was perturbed that she'd been left on the edge. It made her frazzled and desperate. How did the woman expect her to rest in such a state? Why was she being designated a nursemaid with a rag? Why was that ghastly woman doing this to her?

Kasha sat in the chair at the mirror. As the mother left the room to get a wet cloth, she directed her gaze at the reflection of Carol lying bound upon the bed. She was annoyed that the daughter seemed unmoved by events.

The young woman exhibited a stubborn fortitude, but unlike her, the once stoic man in the other room was in the preliminary stages of snapping. She admitted the father's initial reaction moved her. It had been bad enough to make her cry. Just like the other previous two fathers, he'd responded with the same insufferable grief over knowing he unwittingly bonked his daughter in every egregious way imaginable.

To show such emotion was unlike her. She was determined to never allow it to happen again. She hardened her heart because the job was to utterly shatter his. Replaying their incestuous wickedness in an incessant loop was one method to indoctrinate him. The second was to stream the family's depravity live on another monitor and force him to watch with his dick in his hand. She planned to check later to see if he enjoyed the show.

She'd expected the daughter to at least display a minimum of hysteria at seeing what she'd done to her mother. Instead, the tramp looked at her from the mirror with acute observation as if she were studying her instead.

When the mother's returned, Kasha thought, perhaps it simply requires pulling the right string to dislodge the slut's disposition. Casting her eyes into the mirror, she grinned at the judgmental sinner looking back at her from the bed.

***

Damn it, Mom, I'm Your Daughter

Martha sniffled and her eyes watered as she began the task to clean the dried sweat and carnal secretions from Carol. Starting at the legs she repeatedly mumbled, "Why won't she let me come?"

With effort, she stroked upward. What she thought to be a simple job proved to be a difficult chore. As she rubbed, a pleasant chill rocketed up her leg.

Folding back upon her knees between Carol's feet, she stared down with mouth agape. She excitedly said, "Oh my—it's not just Paul—I also feel it when I touch you."

A contorted smile broke upon her face and she purred, "Oh motherrr."

She then giggled and tossed the rag in an arc to the floor.

Dropping to all fours like a cat about to pounce, she crooked a smile and crept forward. Slithering upward along curvy hips, she emitted a rasping hum and then lunged down to lick a swathe with a wet tongue against the daughter's clammy stomach.

The voracious cougar aligned her seductive eyes with the goggled gape of the woman she had just called mother.

It was at that precise moment that Martha hovered in place. There was something about the intensity of Carol's vexed appearance that joggled her being. It was a mesmerizing gaze of brilliant color that tapped into her soul. She saw herself reflected in that glossy mirror.

"Your eyes. They're blue...blue, like—oh my god, you're not my mother. You're me!" she cried.

Kasha whipped her gaze from the mirror and directed it on the two women. "What?" she said in disbelief. "It's not possible. How?"

Martha watched the obscuring drape separate and reveal a reflection of herself. It exposed reality and brought clarity. It shattered the image. She had become her true self once again.

Now aware, Martha broadened her eyes at the ring-like wedge that was fitted to a makeshift harness which was secured to Carol's head. Distressed at the sight, she grasped the bindings and frenziedly removed it. On her elbows, she tossed it to the side and then touched her nose to the tip of her daughter's and gave a cocky grin.

"Ma?" Carol shyly questioned.

Martha responded by exhaling a heavy breath along with a resounding groan. She said, "Sweetheart, please forgive me."

Clamping her daughter's head between both hands, she gave a wink along with a smile. A sweaty heat radiated from her body and her chest reverberated with a low-pitched growl.

Without forewarning, she tilted her head and lunged. Her frolicking tongue thrust itself dagger-like between her daughter's gaped mouth. Driven by passion, she fermented her love with a firm joining of their lips.

Carol was most definitely troubled by this turn of events. She struggled upon the bed to break her mom's hold. It wasn't just the awkwardness of having her naked mother lying on top and kissing her like a crazed lover, it was also the tingle produced by that unwelcome touch. Her mother's actions effectively ruptured the passive composure she'd labored to maintain.

Her mother kissed like a French whore. With a gallivanting tongue forcibly exploring her mouth, she had no choice but to reluctantly return the kiss.

Breaking the smooch, the mother's tongue flickered and slid upon her cheek with the obvious goal to remove the splotches of cum that had fallen earlier.

Between licks, Martha huffed, "I smell your daddy on you, little girl."

Carol cried, "Mom, please stop. This isn't right. What's wrong with you?"

Moving downward, the mother's slobbery tongue slid along her daughter's neck. Ignoring the plea, she said, "I don't need a rag to clean this filth."

When her mother grasped her boobs to pleasure both nipples, Carol shivered as if from a creepy chill.

Upon feeling moisture between her legs, she whimpered.

Finding herself aroused by her mom spurred desperation. She said, "Damn it, mom, I'm your daughter."

With a tit in her mouth, Martha looked up and furrowed her brow.

Releasing the nipple with a wet smack, she said, "Honey, I'm sorry. You must give it to me. You'll enjoy it and we'll come together. Neither of us has a choice. It's the only way this ends. If it helps, pretend I'm your father."

It was like a reprise from yesterday with her dad. She whimpered at having to relive the helplessness.

Just like before, she was forced to accept her mother's passion driven caress.

However, unlike then, she was now a changed woman. She felt no shame. That fact alone bothered her more than she'd admit. Without it, she felt uninhibited. Although liberating, it also a negative. It made it too easy to act on those impulses. She'd already played this immoral game. Now, she was being made to do it again with her mom. The only way to survive would be for her to buttress the barrier with a Teflon coating of shamelessness and unflinchingly play the deviant role.

As her mother licked downward along her tummy, she raised her head and directed her voice to the woman named Kasha. She heatedly said, "Untie me, bitch. I'll play this perverse game, but you can't break me. I'm already broken. If you plan to change me, you've failed. I already know I'm a sleazy slut. I'm no longer repulsed by licking a cunt as well as a cock and I find both equally satisfying."

Kasha was put off by her statements. There was a reason for not placing the father and daughter under the sway of her charm. It was an attempt to break them naturally. The process made such trauma lifelong. It became a permanent tragedy of heartache and pain that would haunt them for an eternity. It was ineffective when the victim was willing.

For the young woman to so easily accept the degradation was like thrusting the knife back upon her. It was as if success had bloomed defeat. The tramp whined over her discomfiture, but it was a sham meant to conceal delight. She didn't expect the woman to relish the role or find joy from such wickedness. Yet, in less than a day, the prudish young lady had wallowed in sin and embraced it like a drug addicted crack whore.

How is it possible to break the spirit of a woman that fully accepts the title and clings to the definition as if she'd been born for it?

Carol claimed to be broken, but in truth, the woman hadn't even fractured. Kasha saw it as plain as day. The woman's assertion was simply a falsehood to justify the reason for her thirst.

To see such unbridled lust pinioned in that strumpet's eyes was proof that she'd only accepted her lot, not shattered. She hadn't been molded or made. That woman was an inborn floozie and had always existed. It's possible she never even knew.

She didn't just meet the clinical classification, her actions indicated extreme hypersexuality with mild OCD. Add in a woman with daddy issues and you had a diagnosis that was quite unique.

If she'd had known the prudish young lady was a closet nymphomaniac, she'd have redevised the plan.

Usually, that insatiable craving was a weakness easily manipulated, but in this case, the abnormal condition hindered her grand design. Even nymphos experienced shame, but this bimbo seemed to exhibit resilience to overcome humiliation and it aggravated her.

For now, let the promiscuous woman frolic in sin within the family. Let's see if such a woman remains aloof once her belly's heavy with the product of incest. Would such an indignity be the tool that breaks her? Can a woman like her even be disgraced?

***

Riveting Exhibition

Carol was grateful when the ropes were removed. Her wrists and ankles were sore and bruised from earlier attempts to struggle with the bindings.

She rubbed her wrists to stimulate circulation and then tried to do the same for her feet.

Upon folding her knees to reach her ankles, she hadn't anticipated that her mother would nose-dive between her legs.

Those actions produced a shuddering jolt that instantly broadened her eyes and left her mouth agape. A tender tickling against her clit triggered a quiver that made her utter a long droning, "Ahhhhhh," followed by hyperventilation.

"Oh fucking shit!" she screamed. She immediately shot both arms downward between her thighs to crimped her mother's animated head between her hands.

Becoming delirious she smothered her mother's face firmly against her honeypot. "Eat me!" she cried.

The pleasurable tickling sensation intensified causing her to clinched clumps of her mother's hair between two tightened fists.

"Oh god, Motherrr!" she howled. "You whoreee..."

Tossing her head from side to side, she moaned and then cursed out, "Jesus—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Gyrating her pelvis to her mother's festive caress, she wailed.

Martha sensed her palpitating thrusts and demanded, "Come for me, baby. I need it. Give it to me!"

Kasha wrenched Carol's hands from her mother's head while saying, "Oh gracious no. I won't let this party end so quick. Martha, 69 your daughter. Let her pleasure your pussy. She'll taste just how wet she makes you. I find it extremely erotic to watch a parent and offspring get off at the same time. Show intense searing passion. Tear into that tender young twat and give me an exhibition of some serious lesbian hardcore. I want that sluttish tart to know the dissolute touch of her mother's horny tongue."

As her mother moved to maneuver in position, Carol's frustration was expressed as a directed retort to the gypsy, "You evil bitch!"

Her attention was then redirected when her mother's moist crack sprang into view.

On the fringe of her thoughts, she was indeed troubled and it had nothing to do with her actions. It had everything to do with what she felt.

Why wasn't she distraught by the glistening gaped pussy descending upon her face?

The very idea that her mother's snatch straddled her mouth excited her as much as her father's dick. If her mother wasn't already dipping, she'd have soaked it with her watering mouth. Feeling no shame was one thing, but lusting for her mother's pussy took it to a disturbing level. Just how sick was she?

To have an intense desire to pounce upon that steamy gash couldn't be normal. Had she literally lost her mind? It was insane to have such an urge, yet it felt natural like an extension of her soul.

Untying her from the bed had been a mistake. It was monstrous to unleash such a craving and allow it to feed. Such a creature as she had an insatiable yearning to devour her mother whole.

Kasha panted heavily at the sight before her. Her skin flushed and beads of perspiration began matting her dress. She'd always been aroused from watching girl-on-girl sex, but this display was far beyond expectation.

She found it impossible to separate the mother from the daughter because both were physically indistinguishable from each other.

The spectacle was a riveting exhibition of two voluptuous and curvy forms interlocked like two flawless pieces perfectly fitted to a jigsaw puzzle. It gave her the impression of Siamese twins born connected with their lips embedded against the other's crotch and forever intertwined to eat each other's cunts. She couldn't help but get wet from such a thought.

Kasha became frenzied and hurriedly disrobed. Tossing the tawdry garment to the floor, she stood at the foot of the bed appearing flushed and glossy from excessive sweat. Her stature was that of a naked Amazonian goddess with heavy-laden bosoms. Those slumping jugs flaunted large dark-tinted areolas encircling thick elongated nipples with milk driblets forming at their tips.