Men like to know that women aren’t thinking much of anything, after all—if women were thinking, how would we know to obey, right away, whenever a big strong man gave us an order?
My Daddy, using his wonderful magic crystal, made me understand all of this. He hypnotized me thoroughly, brainwashing me over and over again, brainwashing my brainwashing, until my original personality—whatever that silly thing was—has now been completely wiped away.
That’s for the best, I know. If my original personality was so great, then why would Daddy want to destroy it? And if it was neat being who I used to be, then how come I’m so fucking turned on all the time at the thought of being nothing but a piece of property for a properly hot and strong man to own absolutely?
There’s nothing in the world hotter to me than being a eager, willing, hypnotized fuckslave…and right now, Daddy has ordered me to be the hot eager fuckslave to my nineteen year-old big brother.
Stepping down the stairs is a somewhat tricky proposition in my super cool blue acrylic six-inch platform heels. Their bright sky blue matches the sexy bright blue knee-socks I decided to wear today.
Well, decided is sort of a loose term. My Daddy gave me some parameters—You are his perfect homecoming gift. Look sexy for him. Do everything he says. Make him command you—and within those parameters I have some free reign.
Too much free reign, really. I would rather have my will obliterated completely. It’s such a pesky thing, floating around, interfering with all my decisions and pleasures. Real pleasure, real existence for a hot babe like me, is obedience to a strong, studly male. Daddy made me understand that.
My brother is the man of my dreams. I know he is. Daddy made me understand that, too.
Daddy had to fuck this understanding into me, of course. He made me love every second of it. And I did.
He even made me love that he had made me love it. Isn’t that so fucking hot? To be changed so completely, and just love that the change occurred—to love even that the love is manufactured? I don’t see the difference, myself. A manufactured love is one that I know is perfect for me—because it was crafted just for me by my perfect Daddy.
There’s nothing hotter to me than the fact that all my wants, all my desires are manufactured for me, and I need to let Chris know that.
Chris is in the study next to the entry, casually looking at a few books on the bookshelf right next to the doorway. His bag is at his feet, oblong and stuffed full.
“Hi Chris!” I chirp again, strutting down the stairs and onto the entryway. “You look so good.”
He looks somewhat stunned at my hot, tantalizingly clothed appearance. Good. I lean in for a hug, crushing my sexy big tits against his chest. For several seconds I nuzzle my nose into his neck, breathing hotly. His hands hang out awkwardly to the side, floating around my gorgeous teen bod.
He’s a lean young man, almost skinny, and sort of tall. He has a mess of dark hair that circles down around his eyes and large hands. I want those hands on my throat as his cock fills me up beyond all comprehension.
Chris has never had a girlfriend. In fact, I don’t even remember seeing him talk to girls at all, back when we used to go to school together. I remember a lot of mean pranks, as a matter of fact, some of them performed by me.
I don’t understand all that, now. He’s so hunky and cool. Everything he says and does is completely fascinating.
Still breathing hard, I move my mouth up to his ear, resisting the urge to lick and bite it.
“I’ve missed you, big brother. I’ve missed you so much.”
He pulls away just as the need to lick his ear almost overwhelms my self-control. I mean, Daddy didn’t explicitly say not to lick his ear, after all. Just to take it a little slow.
“I’ve…I’ve missed you too, Constance.”
He lets out a breath, staring my up and down. I pose for him, putting one leg forward, sliding a hand over the polished half-globes of titflesh that I have so proudly on display. His constant blushing is quite cute, actually.
Chris has been my stepbrother for the longest time. Over ten years, I think. I’ve seen him giving me glances after I matured totally—because what guy wouldn’t want to fuck the shit out of a hot babe like me? Of course, until today, I’ve treated him sort of shittily. Handing down mean remarks about his skinny frame, or about all the nerdy geeky stuff he does with computers. Lots of comments about how he probably only fucked computers.
That wasn’t very good of me. I have to make up for it.
“So you must have like…a date tonight?” he asks.
I giggle. Biting my lip, I stare nothing but heat at him.
“In a manner of speaking. I’ve been waiting all day just needing this really, really special stud to come home to me.”