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Stolen Wishes 3 (Stud)
🕑 Added 2023-11-20 02:24:47 +0000 UTCChapter Three:
Frances walked his house naked with his big cock swinging between his fat thighs. His mother not only allowed it but enjoyed the view of him. The lamp’s magic had taken hold and was distorting her will. She had always resented Frances and hated him for what he was. Her marriage was one of convenience, a union of affluence and status and little else. Frances was the necessary by-product of that union and had destroyed her body in being born. She wasn’t always fat, but she was always angry, and having a child just gave her a place to put that anger.
Her hatred of him lingered, but it was diminished by the magic that had taken hold of her. After he fucked her and made her clean him, Frances sent her to shower. When she saw her body in the mirror, she understood his actions in the bedroom. She was beyond beautiful. Her body was one that women would pay fortunes to have and still fail to achieve. Her breasts were large and symmetrical, and her ass firm and bubbly. Her face was slender, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark blue. Her eye lashes were long and dark, and her hair fell down her back and shoulders in golden waves.
His actions, depraved and confusing, had given her the body of her dreams. She did not know how he did it, but she felt for certain that he had. Why else could he control her, she reasoned, and she felt grateful to him for his intervention and dominion. She almost even loved him, though the long-standing hatred she felt for him got in the way of any such feelings. Deep down, she knew that hatred would fade in the face of orgasms like the ones he had already given her, and she even looked forward to the day that she could love him for real. For now, she let the hatred simmer and stew and burn away while rich, manufactured love formed in its place.
She watched her son’s fat body jiggle with each step and felt a tickle of arousal. He was so different from her husband, who was tall and skinny and always distant, and the longer she watched him, the more she thought Frances was better than his father. “Did you call the school yet,” he asked her without looking back at her. He stood at their window with the blinds parted and peeked out at their neighborhood. He was watching the Mawari family like a hawk.
His mother was also naked and sat on their couch brushing her hair after her shower. “I did,” she said. “I told them that you were sick, but we should be careful, Frances, darling. We can’t keep…”
“Call me master,” he interrupted, and he let the blinds fall shut and turned to glare at her. “I own you now, so you’ll show me some proper god damn respect.” He returned to peeking out of the blinds and watched Farah leave the house with her husband and daughter. Farah said goodbye to both of them, though she only hugged and kissed Amina. Abdul, now a cuckold, went without his usual affection, and Frances swore he looked sad for it. He felt himself respond to that sadness and stroked his dick idly as it throbbed. He let the blinds fall again and turned to regard his naked mother on the couch. “And from now on, I don’t want any arguments. You let your betters decide what’s best for us and keep your mouth shut unless you have something nice to say to me. Do you understand, bitch?”
His mother gave him a dead stare. Even tamed by the lamp, she could still grow haughty, but she could not refuse him. Rather than speak, she expressed her understanding with animal precision and said, “Woof, woof.” This made Frances smile and cut the tension in the room, and she went back to brushing her hair with a clear and articulated frown on her face, but she followed the directions given and did not voice any complaint against him anymore.
Frances checked the blinds again and found Farah alone. The curvaceous MILF glanced toward his home before going back inside, and Frances turned back to his mother with a cocky grin on his face and his plump cock swinging. “Are you almost done, mother, because it’s time to start our day.”
“I can be finished whenever you would like for me to be,” she said, and she smiled and flipped her hair before adding, “Master.” Frances’ dick gave a perceptible pulse and thickened, and she licked her lips as she stared at it.
They left the living room together and went to dress. When they returned, Frances was in a pair of baggy jeans, an old video game t-shirt that he was on his way to outgrowing, and a black hoodie. His mother had trouble finding anything that fit and found her way into a pair of baggy sweats which she had to knot tight about her shrunken midsection and a loose sweater. She regarded her improved figure and the way her old clothes hung from it in a confused mixture of pride and shame, and she wondered how she had ever let herself go in such a manner.
“Frances…Master…Not to overstep my bounds, but may I ask you a question.”
“So long as it is polite,” he told her, and he opened the door for her and guided her through with a hand on the small of her back. His mother felt a tickle of butterflies in her belly when her son touched her and smiled at him as she waited for him to join her. He stopped to lock the door after he left, like the good boy he was.
“I was wondering, how exactly did you do this to me? Because I assume you did considering what happened between us this morning.”
Frances grinned at her. “Very astute, mother. Maybe you’re not as much of a stupid bitch as I thought you were.” His mother smiled until he called her a bitch, but even after that she still seemed quite pleased with herself. Frances took her by the hair and turned her head to look at Farah’s home. “You know the Mawari family next door? Turns out that Mrs. M was cursed by a…How’d she say it? A Djinni? Anyway, she was cursed to be a genie bound to a magical lamp that, when burned, would make her into a sex slave for the person who lit it.”
“Well, I lit it, and I made her my slave, and she told me I could do it to other women, too. I decided to do it to you,” he said, and he shoved her across the dew-wet yard and toward the other house. Her unrestrained breasts bounced and swung with her staggered footsteps as he followed her with his hands in his pocket. “I didn’t intend to fuck you into submission, too, but the lamp made your body too hot to resist, and that’s how we ended up like this.”
“I see…” Frances’ mother didn’t really understand, and her first instinct was to doubt him, but she could no more explain what had happened to her than she could explain time travel, so she dropped the issue. They stopped in front of Mawari house at the front door, and she looked to him for guidance.
He gestured toward the door with a stupid grin on his face. “Go ahead. Knock.”
His mother lifted her hand and hesitated. She looked at him again. “Is Ms. Mawari also one of your, erm, genies?”
Frances nodded. “She was my first and so far only other one.”
“I see,” said his mother, and she took a deep breath and knocked on the door as instructed.
Farah was inside of her home alone wearing a plain gray abaya with a matching hijab that had the lightest copper designs woven into the hem for a splash of color. Beneath her clothes, she wore the lacy pink lingerie that showed off the teardrop shape of her breasts and her wet vulva. It felt good against her skin, and even the way the thong rode up her ass cracked turned her on and made her feel naughty for her master.
When she heard Frances knock, Farah smiled and rushed to the door. She opened the door expecting to find him and instead found his mother first. Though Frances’ mother had underwent a dramatic change, Farah did recognize her by her face, though she otherwise looked like a very different and far more conventionally attractive version of herself, but Farah had expected that. What she had not expected was to find the other woman visiting alongside her son this morning.
“Sharon?” Farah stepped aside to grant both of them entry, and Frances entered with a smile and a swat on her face. Farah flashed him a brief grin and said, “Welcome, master.”
“Thanks,” he said, and he gestured toward his mother and stopped her roaming with a hand tangled in her blond hair. Sharon did not fight him and in fact seemed to enjoy it from what Farah could see. Farah moistened to see it, too, even as her old morals rebelled against the incestuous act. “As you can see, the magic worked on her.” He cupped one of his mother’s large breasts and shook it at Farah, and he said, “And it turned her into this. This was not part of the plan, Mrs. M. What gives?”
“I…do not know,” said Farah. “The Djinn did not explain the curse to me in great detail, but if I were to imagine, the lamp remade her to suit your desires,” she said.
Frances released his mother’s breast and cupped one of Farah’s, and she moaned and leaned into his hand. “It didn’t remake you, though.”
“Mm. It might have, if you had desired me to be different,” she told him. “Though, perhaps I look this way due to the nature of the curse, or the curse rewrites women to take on my appearance? I do not know all of the details, but I do believe it is safe to assume that your mother looks the way she does because of the lamp, of course.”
“Of course,” Frances said, and he crushed Farah’s breast in his hand.
Farah moaned. “Master, if I may be bold: have you…consummated your relationship with your new genie as you have done with me?” Farah held her breath to hear the answer, and she was frightened to realize that the answer she truly wanted was not the answer that she wanted to want.
The silence that followed was long as Frances groped Farah. She stood still and allowed his touch, and she winced when he released her breast and slapped it hard. “I used my new genie just like I use you. Is that a problem for you, Mrs. M?”
It was a problem for Farah only because she could no longer let it be a problem for her. The sin of incest was still a sin, but Frances’ sins were immaterial to her service to him. She bit back a moan as pained pleasure coursed through her, and then she shook her head and whispered, “Of course not, master. You are free to use us however you please.”
Frances smiled at her, and it was like Allah was smiling down on her it made her feel so special. “Good answer,” he said, and he cupped her breast again and continued to squeeze and mold her flesh. “I have to ask, though, will she be like you? Will she remain my genie slut forever now, even if the lamp is broken?”
Farah noticed Sharon listening now, too, and she met the other woman’s gaze only briefly before smiling at their master. “To my understanding of the curse, master, yes. Now that you have burned her wick within your oil, your mother will remain your loyal servant until she dies.”
“Hear that mother,” asked Frances, and he turned his gaze on his mother and swatted her rear before grabbing at her around the cleft of her ass. She cupped one cheek firmly as he dragged his fingers along the covered folds of her vulva. His mother moaned in response but did not argue. “You’re going to be my barking little bitch forever. How do you feel about that?”
“Woof, woof, master.”
Frances laughed and swatted his mother hard on the ass. “Good answer!” Then, he took hold of Farah’s leash and tugged her to him. They kissed, and Farah nearly melted into his taste and stepped back with glossy eyes and a stupid smile on her face as he stared into her dark eyes. “I’m hungry, Mrs. M. Go make me something to eat, and then we can finish this conversation and discuss our plans for the day.”
“Yes, master,” whispered Farah demurely, and she waited for him to release her leash before she left. On the way out of the living room, she stopped and asked, “What would you like me to make you, my master?”
“A classic American breakfast. Toast. Eggs. Bacon. Sausage if you have it.”
Farah hesitated. “Master, pork is forbidden in my religion…”
Frances frowned. “Well, that’s stupid,” he said, and his mother laughed. He blanched afterward and said, “I mean to say, I understand your religious affiliation and respect it but…”
“I understand, master. You do not practice, and I would never dream to force you to. In the future, I will make certain to keep the foods you enjoy here, even if I will not partake of them.”
Frances, feeling strangely flustered without knowing why, cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’ll be great,” he told her, and he watched her leave with a feeling of relief. His mother was still chuckling, and so he smacked her hard on the ass and then dragged her to the couch by the hair. “The fuck are you laughing about, bitch?!”
His mother was made to kneel at his feet and suck his toes while they waited on his breakfast. She worked dutifully because she was commanded to and was disappointed to find how good his feet tasted, too. She understood why his dick might appeal to her, as that was primal but pleasure-giving. His feet should have done nothing for her, but she was dripping wet as she ran her tongue between his toes. Finally, in this moment, she came to believe in the magic he had assured her was used to tame her.
Farah, meanwhile, was busy in the kitchen. She worked quickly but with care and finished Frances’ food and brought it to him with it still steaming. It shocked her to see Frances sitting bare-assed on her couch and stroking himself while his mother nursed his balls and kissed his thighs, but he greeted her with a smile, and she smiled back at him in turn. His pride should have appalled her, but whenever she saw his dick, she felt with a deep certainty that he had much to be proud of.
“Sorry about the couch,” said Frances, and he dragged his ass along the white fabric without care. “Mom was down there sucking my toes to make up for a lifetime of neglect and abuse, and I thought that it would feel better for me if she was sucking my balls instead, you know?”
“I see,” said Farah, and she set his food down on the coffee table in front of him. Then she stood and watched his mother slobbering on his balls with mixed hunger and envy. She had only been his personal slave for a day and already she had to share. It was her master’s right to take as many women as he pleased, but she did privately wish that he had seen more use from her before he added someone else to his collection.
“Looks good,” said Frances, and he dragged his mother up his dick and fed her his crown. Sharon licked him on the way up and gasped at his cockhead before swallowing him with a wet squelch. He was not gentle with her, but Farah assumed assertive violence was in his nature. His head lulled back as his mother took him, and he moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Farah licked her lips. It looked good, too. As jealous as she was, it was sexy to see Frances in control and in his own element. She fidgeted with her abaya and tugged it tight against her body to show off her curves. “If it pleases you, master, I could feed you as she sucks you.”
“No,” rasped Frances, and he gave her a dizzy, lopsided grin. “I think you should take that shit off and join her instead.”
“Yes, master,” said Farah more quickly than she was proud of, and she unwrapped her hijab and pulled her abaya off to reveal her pink lingerie. Frances gave her a smile, and she held her hand flat against her belly and said, “Does this please you, master?”
Frances pulled his mother from his dick and wagged himself at Farah. “Come down here and find out how pleased I am, Mrs. M.”
Farah nearly fell onto his dick; she was so hungry for him. She choked as he entered her throat and held him there as she cupped his thick thighs. His mother smiled beside her and stroked his sizable shaft with a look of pride and lust on her face, and when Farah took to bobbing her head on him and fucking him with her throat, his mother stole kisses at his shaft and his thighs as she whispers praises for him.
“Look at that little Muslim whore choking on your dick, Frances. She loves that big, white dick of yours, doesn’t she? Mm.” Sharon bit her bottom lip and cupped his balls. Normally, she would pretend at more social decorum, but her son had stripped her to nothing in front of Farah, and she had nothing to pretend at anymore.
Still, Frances did not like the way his mother was talking about Farah, who had always showed him kindness, and peeled the beautiful Libyan woman from his dick and replaced her with his mother. Where he let Farah set her own pace and enjoy him, he forced his mother deep and choked her as punishment for her cruelty. She did not understand this, though, and neither did Farah, who envied how Frances used the blond MILF without regard.
“Come here, Mrs. M,” he gasped, and he pulled Farah into a kiss. Their tongues danced as his mother suffocated on his cock. He drooled into her mouth and then pulled her off to let her kiss his chest and neck while he cupped her rear and fucked into his mother’s throat. “Watch this,” he panted, and he pulled his mother off of him to let her lick his shaft and whine against him while he laughed. He fed his mother his testicles and asked, “Are you my bitch, mom?”
“Mm!” Sharon purred around his heavy testicle and, when freed enough to speak, she gave him a crooked grin that was very much like his own and barked for him. “Woof! Woof!”
Farah felt dizzy after seeing that. She had taken joy in her own submission, but watching him dominate another woman was completely different. She did not know whether to enjoy it or not, but she had no choice in whether it turned her on. Seeing Frances come into his own frightened and excited her. He was so much more than she had expected him to be, and after seeing him subjugate his own mother, she could not ignore the cruelest parts of him or pretend that he was different to absolve herself of her lust for him.
“Master,” Farah whispered in breathless excitement, and she held her breast to his mouth and fed him her stiff brown nipple. He fed his mother his rigid cock again and choked her without care as Farah held him to her bosom and moaned. “Yes, master,” she purred. “Use us. We are nothing to you. We’re just genie whores who exist for your pleasure. Master! Master!!”
Farah could feel his pleasure growing and released him to hear him moan. She smiled and stroked him into his mother’s waiting mouth, and Frances did not disappoint them. He deposited a thick, sticky load of hot, white semen deep onto his mother's willing tongue. Sharon choked on him but did not remove herself, and she ended up with a ribbon of cum left across her face as she nursed his crown with a look of animal delight.
“So much cum,” Farah murmured, and she let Frances kiss her again as she stared at his heavy dick. He was growing limp, but he remained quite large. She kissed him back with a moan, and as they parted, she smiled at him. “Your mother did quite well, master. Don’t you think so?”
“She did, didn’t she,” asked Frances, and he pulled his mother off of him and guided Farah down to taste him, too. Farah took him with a purr while his mother watched with a sticky smile and kissed his thigh. “Such a hot little harem,” he said, and he gasped as Farah took him into her throat. “Fuck!!” He moved her on his dick and said, “And we still have the lamp, don’t we, Mrs. M?”
“Mmhmm,” Farah purred as she slurped him, and she slurped off of him with a pop. She was still holding his now limp cock by the root, and she was smiling at him as she cupped his heavy balls. “Mm. Why do you ask, master? Don’t you think two genies is enough?”
Frances laughed. “It might be for some people, but not for me. I have too many people who need to be put in their place. Like Lincoln and Autumn, for starters.”
Farah did not want to share, but she felt an animal thrill at hearing his interest in creating more genies. Her master’s desires were her own now, and if he wanted to use her curse to condemn others to a life of servitude, then she would be willing to do that for him. She kissed his cockhead and stared him in the eyes, and he swatted her rear while holding her by the hair.
“Does that bother you, Mrs. M?”
“Of course not, master,” she purred, and she worked her tongue in a circle around his dick. “Your every wish is my command.”
Frances twitched in her mouth. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispered, and then he grinned at her. “Well, I wish for you to take my mom and go clean up while I finish my breakfast.”
“Of course, master,” said Farah, and she kissed his dick again before standing from the couch. She offered Sharon a hand up, and then the two left with their big bottoms wiggling as Frances took the plate of cold eggs and toast and started eating.
Farah took Sharon upstairs, and the two rinsed off in a hot shower. They toweled off together afterward and redressed themselves. Farah was grateful to have help with the lingerie, which seemed to have more straps and latches in the moment than it had in the morning. She lifted her hair for Sharon to fasten the bra, which felt like it was too small for her despite her getting the right size. The fabric lifted her heavy breasts, though, and made them look even perkier than they already were by magic.
“I’m sorry,” said Sharon as she dried her crotch. She was still moist as she thought of her son, but she had sobered enough to recognize how strange and wrong all of it was.
Farah gave the other woman a kind, patient smile. She had always thought Sharon was pretty in her own way, but the lamp’s magic had really improved her. Sharon had been heavyset like Frances, but now that she was thinned out, she still looked like Frances around her eyes, but she was a true and rare beauty almost equal Farah herself.
“What are you apologizing for,” Farah asked. She was now dressed and watching Sharon do the same.
Sharon stepped into her panties. “Because of what Frances has done to you. To both of us, really.”
Farah gave a quiet nod and thought for a moment before speaking again. She could hear the sincerity in Sharon’s words and knew from experience how confused the other woman must have been. She also knew that such confusion would be quickly dispelled in the face of the pleasure Frances provided. “It is fine, Sharon. These are not your choices. They are not mine, either. They are Frances’ choices, and with the lamp, we must obey him.”
“I see,” said Sharon, who had stepped back into her panties. She pulled her top on, too, and it fit loosely around her body. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. “Nothing fits anymore,” she told Farah, and Farah watched quietly while the other woman ruminated. Sharon looked at her. “Is there any hope left for us, then? I mean, is there anything we can do to stop this?”
“Do you want to stop this,” asked Farah, and Sharon stared quietly at the floor. Farah touched Sharon lightly on the shoulder. “It is okay to enjoy it. That is the magic of the lamp, and if it makes you feel better: no. There is no hope. We belong to your son now, and regardless of how he uses us or how we feel about it, there is nothing we can do to stop it, even if we wanted to.”
Sharon sighed. “That is what I was afraid of,” she said, and she chanced a look into Farah’s dark, beautiful eyes. They were mysterious and warm, and they reminded her of pictures of the dessert night she had seen in a book years ago. “Do you want to stop it?”
“No,” admitted Farah with a warm, nurturing smile. “I enjoy what our master has done with me, and I look forward to letting him do more.”
“Then I envy you,” said Sharon, and Farah passed her and stopped at the door.
“Come. Our master awaits.”
Sharon nodded and followed Farah down the hall and then down the stairs. Their homes looked very similar, though Farah decorated hers with clinical refinement. She kept things plain but beautiful and had a particular eye for white and gold. As they came down the stairs, both women were sniffing the air as the smell of something burning caught their attention. It had a familiar scent in the smoke. It was a smell that reminded them of sex. They made eye contact, and Farah said, “I think he is burning another hair.”
“Whose,” asked Sharon, and Farah went wide-eyed and jiggled as she rushed down the stairs. Sharon followed her and found her frozen in place and sobbing as she stared at an open door off of the living room. Sharon peeked around Farah’s shoulder and understood immediately what had happened when she realized whose door Frances had left open. It was Amina’s room, and the hair he was burning undoubtedly belonged to Farah’s youngest daughter.
Sharon covered her mouth and whispered, “Oh, no…!”
“Is something wrong,” asked Frances as he sauntered up between the two of them. He was naked from the waist down, and his plump cock swung freely. Even limp, he remained quite impressive. Sharon had not known her son was so well endowed and felt pride mingling with her near constant arousal as she looked at her son.
“Why,” begged Farah, who turned to Frances with tears in her eyes. He watched her with a crooked, uncaring smile that hurt her.
“On your knees, both of you,” he snapped, and both genies obeyed him. They were face-to-cock with him now, and both were breathing in his raw, masculine scent without meaning to. He cupped their heads and pinned their cheeks together around his limp dick, and he began fucking the space between their faces while he watched them. Farah slowly stopped crying, and he told her, “You’ll keep Amina home tomorrow and bring her to me once your husband has left, do you understand?”
“But master…”
“Kiss my dick,” he told her, and she turned her head to kiss his stiffening manhood. “There’s a good girl,” he whispered, and Farah smiled against him despite herself. The power play was not lost on her, but she accepted it. Another piece of her was stolen away and broken by Frances, and she extended her tongue to taste the man who was ruining her life. “Now you get it. So, tomorrow, Mrs. M, you’re bringing me your daughter so that I can make her a slut, just like you.”
“Yes, master,” she purred, and then she shared his dick with his mother.
Frances woke up stiff the next morning but refused to let his mother satisfy him. He shared her bed with her the night before and fell asleep with her spooning him after he left a load inside of her. Sharon smiled when she woke up beside her son and stroked him until he ordered her to stop. Then, she showered, and she shaved, and she called into work again and also called the school. She knew that this couldn’t go on forever, but she told herself that their shared absences supported each other. There was a sickness going around the house, she had said, and it was true. Its leading symptom was lust.
Frances let his mother hold his dick as he pissed in the morning, and she marveled at his incredible size. She dabbed him clean and rinsed him off, and he let her suck him just because he could. He smiled at her and told her she was a good bitch, and she barked for him and came when he spanked her.
After that, Frances watched their neighbors while his mother prepared him a proper breakfast. He ate and showered while he waited for them to arrive. Abdul left, and Farah brought Amina with her to Frances’ home. They knocked and were waiting in the living room when Frances joined them naked save for a towel. His pale, pasty body glistened with water as he removed his towel and showed off his half-erect, meaty shaft. Amina gaped while Farah and Sharon smiled.
“What? Mom, what is…” Amina lost her voice as Farah went to Frances. Sharon had taken the towel and was drying him. She paid special attention to his robust penis while Farah let him hold her around the waist. He cupped her rear through her abaya and gave it a firm squeeze and a sharp slap, and she smiled in his grasp and followed his gaze to Amina. “…Mom…?!”
“I’m sorry, dear, I wish I could have told you sooner,” said Farah, and then she was distracted as Frances pulled her into a kiss. Their lips touched, and Farah moaned. This kiss was exquisite and wrong. It shook her to her depths and made her moisten and come. His hand was still tight against her large bottom, and his mother was busy fluffing him with her mouth in preparation for what was to come.
Amina stood. “Mom, what are we doing here? What is he doing to you?”
“Come on, Amina, you can’t be that dumb,” said Frances as he broke the kiss with her mother. He cupped Farah’s breasts and squeezed them, and Farah gave a quiet, sensual moan as she leaned into his needy hands. “Your mom is my slut, and now you are, too.”
“No,” was all Amina said, and she turned to run out of the house, but Frances stopped her with a word.
“Stop!” It was all he had to say, and she was frozen in place. She stood there quaking. Her heart hammered, but she was wet. She liked being told what to do by him, and worse than that, she liked how his big, fat cock looked in his mother’s mouth. “Now turn around,” he said, and Amina obeyed again. His was smiling at her, and his smile frightened her just as much as his dick did. “Strip for me and lay on the couch.”
“No…!” She said the word, but she obeyed him again, and she cried as she removed her skinny jeans and her t-shirt. Her bra came off next, and though she was not as buxom as her mother or Sharon, her breasts had clearly been enhanced by the magic of the lamp. She laid on her back sideways on the couch, and Frances laughed with cruelty as she cried.
“Quiet down,” snapped Frances, and Amina’s voice turned off. He could still see her crying by the shaking of her body and the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she did not make a sound.
Farah could not watch, and so she threw herself into Frances. It humiliated her how wet she was, and she found comfort in his strong hands and hard dick. She stroked him as he peeled his mother off of his cock, and she kept her eyes closed and showered him with gentle kisses. It was easier now to ignore her daughter’s suffering since he had ordered Amina silent, and she found herself perversely grateful for his intervention.
Frances tossed his mother aside and said, “Open your legs, Amina, and hold them open for my mother. And mom…” He leered at his mother on the ground. She had started sucking his testicles while Farah stroked him. “Mom, I want you to eat her to climax. Amina, you can make noises of pleasure, but I don’t want to hear your sadness. I don’t care about that.”
“No,” whispered Amina so quietly that even she could barely hear it, and then she felt the couch move and felt Sharon take her place between her legs. Sharon ran her delicate hands along Amina’s slender hips and began eating her. She was vigorous in her attention as she tongued Amina’s tiny, youthful slit. Amina bit back a moan as Frances’ mother brought her escalating, sensational pleasure. She did not want to enjoy this, but her body was betraying her. Whatever Frances had done to her and her mother, he had made her enjoy it. He had power over her body, and it was a power that left Amina powerless.
To this point, Frances had ignored Farah’s hurt, but he had noticed it, and he knew that he would have to take steps to change her. Cupping her ass and squeezing her breasts, he gave her a smile and whispered to her, “Look, Farah. Look at what my mother is doing to your daughter. Look at how I’ve corrupted them both.”
Farah closed her eyes tightly at first, but she could not disobey him. Holding Frances’ rigid, throbbing dick and stroking him with slow affection, she did as she was told. She looked at Sharon on the couch with Amina, and she watched the older, voluptuous white woman eating her petite brown daughter. She saw what Frances was doing to them, and to her own shame and disgust and self-loathing, she thought it was beautiful.
On the couch, Amina was moistening for Sharon. Sharon was without skill and fumbling as she licked, but the sound of Frances’ voice and the sight of his massive dick were enough to prepare her and leave Amina sensitive. Against her own wishes, Amina began to moan and writhed up against Sharon’s probing tongue. Even without skill, Sharon brought Amina to a vocal climax when Amina ground her clit hard against Sharon’s face, and as she finished, Amina laid there panting and clawing at the couch with shame.
“No, no, no,” she murmured in breathless ecstasy, and she stared at Frances’ leaking cock. He looked like he was in pain, he was so hard, and there was something unfamiliar and unwelcome inside of Amina that told her to relieve him. She wanted to replace her mother at his side, and she wanted to stroke him herself, though she would never admit that.
“Good girl,” Frances said, and he removed himself from Farah’s grip and approached Amina. His bobbing dick drew her attention, and she watched him with fascination. She had never seen a dick before, and she had never imagined that they could be so big or that they could be so red at the crown. Ribbons of precum fell from his cock and wet the carpet as he moved. “Now roll over and stick your ass up in the air for me.”
“Oh, Allah, no….” Amina moved and rolled as he asked. She propped herself up on her knees and lifted her hips to expose her parted womanhood to Sharon’s gaze. Sharon sat behind her with wet cheeks and a pleasant smile. Frances fed Sharon his dick, and she sucked him while Amina rested with her face buried in the couch cushions.
“Now, mother,” said Frances, and he smacked his dick along his mother’s face to get her attention.
Sharon smiled up at him and kissed his dripping shaft with a mewl. “Woof, woof, master!”
He throbbed against her and laughed. “Bring that bitch mouth down here,” he said, and he slapped his thick cock down across Amina’s pert, round ass. He had stared at that ass many times through her jeans and knew it was never that thick before, and he loved what the lamp was doing to her scrawny little frame. Amina jumped when his dick hit her, and he swore that she came again, but she didn’t make a sound. His mother stared in confusion at Amina’s ass, so he leaned down and whispered to her what she wanted, and then she balked but obeyed. “Farah, come here and watch.”
Farah approached and stopped at his side, and she let him touch her again. She was still dressed and wearing dark lingerie underneath her clothes, but the shape of her nipples showed through her robes this morning as she supervised Sharon’s approached. She watched the other woman take hold of her daughter’s newly rounded hips and hold her ass cheeks apart, and then she watched as Amina’s delicate little butthole was wetted by Sharon’s probing tongue.
“Oh, no!!!” Amina whined as her asshole was wetted by Sharon, and she clawed at the couch to keep herself in place. She knew what was coming, and she hated the idea of it, but her pussy dripped with expectation. She could spy her mother watching her from beside Frances, and she could see him touching her mother and groping her as he watched. He rested his own hand along her ass and held her butt cheek, and he touched her like he touched Farah, and Amina moaned despite herself.
“Master,” whispered Farah as Frances bunched her abaya and lifted it up over her hips to touch her bare ass. She smiled at his touch and leaned into him to stroke his dick again with her bosom against his torso. “Mm. Master, do you intend to take my daughter’s rear?” She stroked him slow, from crown to root, and watched his precum gather throbbing cockhead. He would come quickly if she was not careful, but she was. She knew what he wanted and was duty bound to provide it.
“I do,” he told her, and to his mother he said, “Put two fingers in and spit. Stir her up for me.”
“Yes, master,” whispered Sharon, and she did as instructed. Amina moaned beneath her but did not resist. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it now.
To Farah, Frances asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
Farah stared at Frances’ swollen cock, and she stared at her daughter’s flowering, womanly hips. She stared at Frances’ mother fingering her daughter’s virgin asshole, and she stared at her daughter bunched up on their couch in preparation for Frances. “No, master,” she whispered. “Use her as you please.” Then, she bowed her head and sucked him into her mouth to prepare him for entry.
Frances gasped and had to remove Farah quickly to keep from firing. She sucked some saliva back into her mouth and purred as she stood, and she stroked him slowly as she whispered to him, “You’ve already claimed her, master. You burned her hair, and you made her yours. Now, use her! Use her as you used me!”
“Fuck, I’m close,” he gasped, and he took his mother by the hair and shoved her away. “Move, bitch!” Frances climbed onto the couch behind Amina and held her steady by her hips. Using both hands, he parted her ass cheeks and looked at her mother, and he grinned. “Stop stroking me and put me in her, Mrs. M. Guide my fat cock into your daughter’s tiny, unused asshole.”
Farah stared at her daughter one last time and blinked away a tear. She whispered, “I am sorry, my flower. I love you.” Then, she forced Frances into her. Frances moved with Farah’s guiding hand, and with only spittle and precum as lube, winced as he entered. Amina opened for him, though. Her anus was loose and welcoming and flexed only to urge him inside. As the magic had remade her, it had prepared her for such use. Her body was a tool and toy for his pleasure, and it could no more refuse his desire than she could.
As a result of the lamp’s magical intervention, Frances took her to the root with surprising ease. He stopped behind her and wheezed as his hands trembled along her hips, and beneath him Amina moaned into the couch as her saliva pooled in the fabric beneath her. It hurt, but the pain was good to her. She could hardly breathe, but she felt alive with him inside of her, and she came on him again as her body convinced her to enjoy it.
Buried inside of Amina’s bowels to the root, Frances gasped and panted as he stared at Farah. Farah was breathing heavily beside him and watched with a wild look in her eye. She rested her hand on her daughter’s lower back and whispered to her, “Now move, dear. Move on him.” She spanked Amina’s ass and shouted, “Milk him! That is all you’re good for now, you concubine whore! Milk him!”
“Allah, forgive me,” shouted Amina, and she rolled her hips on Frances and fucked him hard. She was without skill or training, but she moved on him with enthusiasm. It frightened her what he was doing with her, but her body wanted it and moved of its own accord, and it pressured her mind to embrace it, too. She could not refuse him, and as her mother urged her, Amina knew what was expected and moved to meet it. Frances had to come, and Amina would be the one to make him do it.
“God dammit, Mrs. M, look at the little slut go!”
Farah smiled to see her daughter moving, and she knew that the lamp was guiding her. Amina had developed surprising skill as she bounced on Frances’ meaty cock, and Farah kept a hand on her daughter’s lower back and rubbed her gently as she moved. “Yes. She is making me very proud.”
“Shit, I’m about to shoot!” Frances held Amina tight by the hips and put his weight into her. Pinning her to the couch, he stopped her movements and began giving his own hard, aimless thrusts into her in place of her steady, smooth rhythm. His fat belly folded over Farah’s hand and rested against Amina’s brown hips. “Tell her she’s my slut, Farah! Tell your daughter that I own her as I seed her bowels!”
“Yes, master,” Farah purred, and she lowered herself to smile at her daughter. Amina was dazed and drooling, but she smiled back when she saw her mother, though she did not understand why.
“Mama,” she gasped.
“He is close, my little flower. Your master is close. He will seed you soon.”
“…My…master? Mama….Why do you keep calling Frances…my master…?!”
“Because he is,” Farah implored to her daughter, and she heard Frances grunting and heaving as he held himself inside of Amina. “And there it is,” she said as Frances bellowed and hung over Amina with a red face and a thin ribbon of drool leaving his mouth as he came. Amina moaned in climax, and her eyes rolled back as Farah smiled for her. “I know, my love. Frances owns you now, and he just seeded you. He has opened you, and he has used you, and now he is rewarding you with his hot seed. It is all my fault, Amina, but you will be happy serving him. Please, take some comfort in that.”
“Mama,” Amina moaned, and then she bit the couch to quiet herself.
“I know, sweetie, I know.” Farah smiled at her daughter and caressed her cheek, and she looked up at Frances. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”
Frances stayed still behind Amina. He was buried all the way inside of her, twitching and grunting, and when he finally withdrew, he fell back into his mother’s waiting grasp. His dick slid smoothly from Amina’s bowels, and at the angle which she was pinned, he could see semen oozing out of her. Her mother cupped her rear and kept it angled to keep from leaving a mess on the couch. Frances watched with a laugh.
“Come on, mom,” he said, and he stood from the couch. “Let’s go for a shower. You can wash my dick off before I come back and use them again.”
“Yes, master,” his mother said, and she followed him with a skip that sent her supple curves jiggling. Farah watched them go with an absent smile only to find her daughter sobbing against the couch. She moved quickly to soothe her, caressing her cheek and kissing her tears away.
“Oh, Amina, my flower. Why? Why do you cry? Did he hurt you so?”
“No, mama, no,” whispered Amina as her mother held her, and she looked at her mother with the same brown eyes that her mother had. “That is why I am crying. It did not hurt at all.”
Farah, full of understanding, embraced her daughter and held her tightly, and she let Amina cry as she whispered to her, “I know, darling. I know.”
