Futa family

As usual, he came down to the kitchen wearing nothing but his underwear — sleepy, hair a mess, shoulders moving with lazy indifference. The coffee was already on the table, still steaming. That was strange. He always made it himself.

His step-sister was seated across from it, legs propped up on the table in tall, muddy boots with sharp heels. Wet clumps of dirt were already smearing the clean wooden surface. One of her heels was planted dangerously close to his cup. Deliberate. Almost taunting.

He frowned.

— “You walked through the kitchen in those?”

She didn’t even glance up from her phone.

— “That’s not your concern. Not yet, puppy.”

He clenched his jaw but said nothing. Took a sip.

— “This is really good… Honestly, I could drink this every day.”

She set her phone aside. Slowly stood up. Her boots clicked softly against the floor as she walked behind him — like she owned the room. Like she owned him. Her hands settled on his shoulders — warm, light. Almost gentle.

— “Then you’ll be happy to know… things are only going to get tastier.”

Her lips were close now, her voice a humid whisper at his ear.

— “Elie and I? Still virgins. Haven’t found the right kind of man. Or boy. Not one who truly knows how to belong. But this morning…” she stretched, mock casual, “I saw something that changed everything.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Held it up where he couldn’t look away.

— “Morning. You. On your knees. The maid’s hand twisted in your hair — violently tight. Strands ripping loose. Her cock buried in your throat so deep, it bulged the skin in your neck. And what did you do? Gag? Struggle?”

She leaned in even closer.

— “No. You drooled. You choked. And you pushed yourself further, like a greedy little mutt begging to be stuffed. You wanted it all. You needed it.”

A pause.

— “You were perfect, puppy.”

Then, she smiled. And without warning, bit his ear.

Not hard at first — but then her teeth tightened. Sharp. Sharp enough to make him flinch. Sharp enough to draw two tiny beads of blood. They welled up slowly, warm against his skin.

— “And maybe,” she whispered, “you’ll be mother’s, too. Just imagine: you in a collar… locked in chastity… kneeling beside her while she sips wine with her friends in the garden. Her favorite boy. Slobbering. Helpless. Decorative.”

He shivered.

— “Don’t worry,” she cooed. “We’ll find a purpose for your cock. And your balls.”

With those words, she reached down and tugged the front of his shorts forward — just enough to expose him. Then, with obscene ease, she poured the last of her still-warm tea down inside. The heat made him flinch.

She giggled.

And then her fingers found his balls — cradling them softly… until she squeezed.

Not enough to hurt.

Just enough to own.

— “Just… not like normal men.”

She finally let go. Licked her lips. Smirked.

— “Finish your coffee, puppy. Elie and I are waiting upstairs.”

Her tone turned silk-sweet.

— “And your new life… has already begun.”