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Typically with Tekla suffering some form of abuse by her brotherly master.", "count": "12", "submission_left_submission_id": "2563761", "submission_left_file_name": "3778641_Xaxis_houswarming_2.doc", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/3778/3778641_Xaxis_houswarming_2.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/3778/3778641_Xaxis_houswarming_2.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/3778/3778641_Xaxis_houswarming_2.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120", "submission_right_submission_id": "2760814", "submission_right_file_name": "4095097_Xaxis_hw4.doc", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/4095/4095097_Xaxis_hw4.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/4095/4095097_Xaxis_hw4.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/4095/4095097_Xaxis_hw4.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "Let's check in with our tenderly abusing sergal twins after awhile. Both are settling into their new home nicely, but now it's time to get a bit more serious use from the new dungeon. Still pregnant, Kelt wants to abuse his sister's perfect tits, but they need to be drained first. And Kelt makes sure it's as awful as possible.\n\nThis time there is a very real chance I missed some tags, it's somewhat loaded.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Let's check in with our tenderly abusing sergal twins after awhile. Both are settling into their new home nicely, but now it's time to get a bit more serious use from the new dungeon. Still pregnant, Kelt wants to abuse his sister's perfect tits, but they need to be drained first. And Kelt makes sure it's as awful as possible.

This time there is a very real chance I missed some tags, it's somewhat loaded.", "writing": "Tekla was busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her brother. Her master. He had shown her the recipe himself, guided her through the motions she now did on her own. It was difficult, not having his hands on her own to perform the delicate tasks she was so new to. Some mistakes were to be had, a couple sheepish `eep!'s and some spilled ingredients now decorated her bright sandy fur. It didn't stop the shapely sergal woman from moving with pride, showing a body of pure traditional beauty. She was well bred, in that her belly ballooned out with the obscenity of a late term pregnancy, hands idly rubbing the life in her expansive middle.\n\nAfter all, any task she did in service to her twin brother was one she cherished. Cooking was just another one slowly being added to a long list of roles. Suddenly perking up upon hearing her master's voice, Tekla turned her angular snout to face the dining table across the grand room. The far side was windows, two and half stories tall and framed in heavy timber to show a verdant landscape of mountains beyond the clear glass. A masculine sergal with an identical pelt and stature as Tekla sat at the end of the table, watching, waiting. Kelt stared intently, eyes sharp and silver as they constantly stared at her buxom form.\n\nHis words were simple, spoken with a concise and cold tone. \"Show your body off more, whore. You need to jiggle your ass if you're just standing there so I can look at something. You're naked for a reason, your body is to be displayed at all times. Do not forget that you are beautiful and I am always looking, so you should always be presenting.''\n\nQuickly nodding, the sexy sister gave a slight startle of embarrassment about being called out. It came to her immediate attention that she had gotten so focused on the food, she had forgotten to be good eye-candy for Kelt. \"Y-Yes master!'' Returning to tend to the sizzling pan, she made sure to bounce on her paws a bit and rotate her hips to send wonderful quakes about her milf-y body. Her thick ass quaked and her huge milk-heavy tits rolled around in mesmerizing flowing jiggles. Balancing the weight of her heavily pregnant belly was a difficult task, but one she was used to. The golden sergal wore a third trimester bump like it was normal, because it was. She had been constantly pregnant since she could bear children, all created by her beloved brother, perfectly fulfilling the role of his personal breeder.\n\nThe fate of the offspring was grim, none survived, since before this mansion was a concrete tunnel in a forgotten corner of a city. Children were simply out of the question, even if he wanted to keep them. She supposed it was a good thing he didn't, instead using up their life for his pleasure. Still, she wore a smile and had a skip to her step as she brought a heavy plate of food to her waiting master. He eyed it briefly before giving a plain nod. \"Good.''\n\n\"What now, master?'' Eagerly asked the sister, submission and servitude all she knows at this point, no matter the cost. Her brother's happiness is what mattered, because he did so much for her.\n\n\"Remain here beside me, breakfast is always best with fresh milk. Hold your tits out and keep still, cow.'' In suave motions and mannerisms that flew in the face of the constant derogatory names he called his slave, he began to eat. Every once and a while, Kelt would turn his head and grip the nearest grope-begging massive milk-plump breast on his sister's chest as the gorgeous sergal stood patiently. A few quick suckles and a sharp bite that made her gasp while leaving a mark on her nipple, then he was back to eating. This would repeat, graciously relieving the pressure of her full teats. She was filling up quickly so close to term, permanently lactating since she was sixteen.\n\nOnce finished, she obediently took the plate to lick it clean of any unwanted bits and sticky cold food residue before placing it in the sink. Returning to him, the pregnant sister would bend over and reach back to spread her round cheeks and lift her tail to present a tantalizing tailhole above a bare, constantly wet slit. It lacked the sergal's trademark prehensile hood, Kelt cutting it off in her teens so as there was nothing in the way of using her pussy at any time. He did graciously leave her clitoris, but delegated her vagina to breeding only. Once she was pregnant, she was anal only. It drove her mad with the hormones and sped up her anal conditioning to find even the roughest usage of her backdoor as bliss.\n\nWith that rear presented to him, Kelt quickly stuffed his dirty crumpled napkin past her pucker. Poking it in deep, he slapped her juicy ass and returned to sipping his coffee. Dishwasher and trash can were both on her list of duties, after all. The womanly sister returned to face him and presented her body with an expectant look, knowing nothing more would be done until he finished his coffee.\n\nStill, she risked it. \"Master?'' Asked the willing slave, catching the quick lock of his icy silver eyes to her.\n\nPausing, a calm \"Yes?'' came in reply.\n\n\"What do you want to do to me today?'' Tekla asked with a curious tone.\n\nAnother moment spent silent as his thoughts moved unheard. With a sigh, he set his mug down and met her eyes directly to bring a slight flush to her features. \"It's about time for another therapy session.'' He calmly reached out to the obedient sister, slipping his palm under a heavy motherly teat. He lifted it, Tekla standing still as he rolled her mound, before letting it fall back as he took a sip. \"I want to torture your breasts today.''\n\nShe couldn't stop the instinctual worried glance at her bountiful rack, but there was no resistance in her voice. \"Okay master, thank you for telling me.'' The pregnant sister gave a wide smile at his simple nod. While there was no defiance, fear still applied. Even if she strove to be the best paintoy she could for him, pain was still pain. Kelt had done wonders in blurring the lines between pain and pleasure, but when it was a moment of undiluted, direct pain just for the sake of pain... Well, it's natural to be afraid, and she was. But it would not hamper her drive of servitude, there was even some adrenaline thrill creeping up her spine. She was almost as determined as he was to make pain into her pleasure.\n\nThe matronly sergal remained a sexy thing to gaze upon until he was ready, silently following him with drooped features as he got up and made for the basement. The familiar harsh lights flicked on, the concrete room one she knew well. Her specially made restraint table rest in the middle of the large space, a compound piece of furniture for the express purpose of torturing her. Other various installations of violent or simple BDSM themes were sprinkled through the space, some of which Tekla still hasn't experienced.\n\nStill keeping her gaze on her brother's nude form, she nodded as he gestured to her milking rack. \"You need to be drained first, and I have some meetings to attend for the next few hours. Should be plenty of time for a milking cycle to complete.''\n\nTekla gulped, milking a very common occurrence. Didn't make it easier. Without being told, the matronly sergal wandered over the concrete floor, features low and eyes locked to the floor. No protests, no argument, just resignation. Only the sense of duty and the look of her master brought a tiny fake smile. It vanished quickly as she went to the milking corner, homemade stencils marking the area. Kelt was close behind her, a presence never truly too far away, always at the edge of her senses. \n\nShe had taken well to the process, well versed in memorizing her brother's instructions. The shimmering gold fur and white countershading of her pelt gleamed under the harsh lights, standing out amongst the dark surfaces. She reached to the hooks impaled on the wall, lifting her gear off. Holding the black leather in her hands, she stared at it a moment longer than needed. With a breath, she handed it to Kelt and turned around. Holding her arms out behind her, they were quickly wrapped up in the armbinder, Kelt cinching the material tight with practiced efficiency.\n\nBoth turned to the corner she had knew so well after such a small time in the home. Within the marked area, were only two things. Metal cuffs built into the concrete floor. Tekla approached these with all the haste of a death's-row inmate, face sad but determined. With folded ears and a still tail, the shapely sergal laid on the cold surface, hissing slightly as her chest pressed to the stone-cold floor. Kelt helped her fine-tune the position, her pregnant belly making fine maneuvers difficult. She ended with her ankles in those cuffs, before the stoic brother clicked them down and locked her feet to the ground.\n\nLaying out on her front, arms bound straight behind her, Tekla waited for the next step and the ache it brought. On the wall was a winch, spooled chain linked to a heavy hook. It was right behind her, Tekla's tensely curled toes pointing right at it. She heard the rattle as Kelt grabbed it, the heavy clinking as the line of metal was unraveled. His footsteps came beside her, then the tug of the hook latching to the heavy ring on her armbinder, right at her wrists. Every noise in the room was tenfold, the sister's rash breathing, Kelt's measured paces as he returned to the wall. The heavy clunk of a lever and the deep hum of a servo.\n\nThe pressure was instant, pulling her arms to the wall, keeping them straight back as her torso lifted. With her ankles locked, her body had to bend backwards, Tekla's face scrunching in a grimace as her body stretched and curled over itself, head lifting off the floor to be pulled back with her entire torso. Every second added to the feeling that her very bones stretched, a terrible ache settling into her body. When it stopped, her shoulders were tucked in behind her knees, arms stiffly out behind her, pointing barely above her spine. Her legs were just as stiff from being locked to the ground, a true show of flexibility on display even as her pregnant middle bulged out her frame. It shows that Kelt had made sure she grew up limber.\n\nTekla's massive motherly tits rest high, pointing towards her face slightly as they canted off the sides of her body, her legs providing low walls for the squishy mounds. Tears already began to well up as she groaned, muscles and her entire skeleton screaming at her. No relief came as Kelt returned, staring down at his slave's wincing face. He knelt, the brother's own intense features peering closer for a moment. Until he grabbed a heavy breast, and took the ring he was holding around it. A simple shape, the ring was made of metal, thin but tough, and lined with spikes that had no trouble piercing skin.\n\nLifting up Tekla's swell with fingers tight around her nipple, she only made a pained sound and squirmed more as he clasped the metal band around the base of her tit. The boob remained more centered in its gelatinous shape, the spiked barrier keeping it from falling too much. Yet the true purpose of the ring was the single wire leading away from it, Tekla unable to see its end but knowing all the same. She slightly squealed as her brother's firm fingers pinched her other bud, stretching her breast up high before another needle-lined ring locked around the free teat. This one too had a wire, leading to the same spot.\n\nA simple box, with a small dial, and a little switch. It was already plugged into the wall, and Kelt flicked it on. A pitched capacitor whine began, buzzing right to Tekla's ears as her breathing sharpened. The terrible position was a foundation for her suffering, the spikes holding her breasts the core. The next thing was always the shock-torture. Every 30 to 300 seconds a powerful shock would be sent to her hefty tits through the rings, right into her flesh and piercing her nerves. With her body bent back so hard and the stings of the rings, the pregnant sister clenched her eyes shut as the building pitch burned through her mind.\n\nThere was little fuss as Kelt wrapped a tight wire around her muzzle, locking her jaws together, hard. Pathetic mewls and gurgles were all that made it past her sealed lips, face tight in discomfort and reluctance. The bent back sister peered into her brother's eyes for the split moment she opened them, a shared heartbeat before he moved on. The first shock hit while he was getting the other equipment, the building buzz discharged as her body went rigid and her voice tried to scream.\n\nThe current passed in but a moment, though the shock lingered in the beautiful sister's mind for an eternity. The voltage holding her body hostage had long vanished by the time Kelt rolled a cart over, Tekla consigned to stressed breathing billowing through her nostrils as her entire form ached. The ache only increased as Kelt took the pumps from the milking cart, and firmly attached them to her upturned breasts. The cups had no trouble sealing a vacuum to her sensitive teats, suction kicking on immediately as a low rhythmic whirring began beside her.\n\nThe droning hum of the capacitor charging blocked out the hissing from the milkers, but she felt the industrial power begin ripping the fluid out of her swells with a painful fervor. It didn't take long for a fire to set into her buds, the machine uncaring of her sensations as it worked at full power. Kelt eyed the jug on the lower shelf of the cart, watching the line of white appear and rise slowly. All as the girl twisted back tried to make noise past her bound mouth, face contorted as another charge wracked her body while the suckers continued to tug at her spike-bound tits.\n\nKelt double checked all the ruthless machinery, making sure she was bent at a properly painful angle, the shocks were powerful enough, the spikes dug into the base of her breasts, and the milkers were far beyond a comfortable setting. He watched her writhe and choke from the oppressive sensations, nothing less than torture as her milk was extracted. A final smile at her sad teary eyes and he made for the stairs, flicking the light off as he left. Tekla was left alone with her miserable treatment and the ominous building buzz keeping her on edge, the dark letting only her pain and the camera-flash like whine permeate her mind.\n\n-\n\nHe ended the call abruptly, as usual. Kelt wasn't one for small talk, or lingering farewells for a business conversation. The sergal stood behind his standing desk, eyeing the screens with those icy silver eyes. Perfect posture on his toned body, shoulders square, spine straight. Though even the golden furred man would admit it was overdone at this moment, stressing his body's posture to avoid the rising feelings. Anger, most of all. He accomplished what he set out to do with the call, though running a company is not something pretty and easy.\n\nHe glanced at the time, almost a full day of work passing, five hours gone by since he set Tekla up to be milked. The long fluffy tail curled behind him pulled a chair over, the naked sergal slowly sitting down as his desk descended. One hand continued to operate the computer's mouse, logging him out, while his other latched around his hard cock. Idle strokes graced its flesh, though Kelt had barely a twitch changing his steely face. He simply had a powerful sex drive, always in the mood- no, need, to breed. And at the worst times. Good thing he had a sister in the basement he could rape whenever.\n\nThe faintest of smiles graced his long muzzle, realizing that he himself might have conditioned his body this way. After all, he has bred quite a bit with his sister. Every chance he could, in fact. As the screen illuminating his masculine form went dark, he stood, a confident stride leading him out of his office. Still stroking his pale knotted shaft, his other hand graced the handrails as he walked down from the loft, then right to the lower level. It took little time to pad past the second living room, the bar, the spare rooms, right to that metal door. \n\nHe paused before it, pointed ears perked, tail actually wagging slightly. He smiled when he could just barely hear his sister suffering behind the door. An echoing click booms through the concrete basement, light pouring in to the twisted space. Flickering fluorescent lights bloomed, fully showing the room. And there she was, in her corner, just where he left her. Measured steps brought him close to the golden beauty, Kelt savoring the approach. She looked more and more gorgeous as he could see more of the suffering in her features.\n\nBody bent backwards, folded over itself, pregnant belly round and prominent. Above that swollen middle were her motherly tits, the spiked rings holding them center as their mass fell under gravity. They seemed to gently pump, the suction cups sealed around her nipples tugging in an alternating fashion. Within those clear cups were stains of white, and where he could see past those were puffy and overworked teats. Kelt admired the body before him, and what he was doing to it.\n\nBut few things could top her face. His sister's face was perfect, yet it was elevated now. Face matted with tears, eyes red and miserable, spit leaking down her wire-shut mouth. She gurgled and choked, trying to scream, had clearly been for the past hours. He watched her form jump rigid as the capacitor whine silenced for the shortest moment, before her body relaxed into the usual tortured panic, breathing through nostrils bubbling with snot as she sobbed.\n\nHe knelt by the cart holding the milking machine, eyeing the jugs. Both were about halfway, the white line immobile since Tekla's swells ran dry hours ago. It was a very productive session. Kelt was quite proud of his sister's milk production, honed over years of countless pregnancies. Still, he wondered if he could boost it, or use it. Perhaps her breasts would make a good testbed for a `new mother' drug line. The proud sergal stood and watched his sister's torture for awhile longer, listening to her attempted cries, watching her tense and convulse as her body lay bent over.\n\nA steady hand pumped his cock, taking relief from seeing her in pain. It wasn't the incredible discomfort in her worn body, or the volume of her gurgled failed screams that gave him peace. It was that he had done this, pure simple venting of his bottled up violence. An almost dreamy sigh whispered past his wedged snout as Tekla froze with another burst of electricity, eyes flashing wide as her voice tried to go shrill. When the current's grip of her muscles released again, Kelt's free hand flicked a switch, and the building pitch of charge didn't return.\n\nHe waited a moment more, hearing her raspy breaths, the puffs of the milking machine still trying to pull out milk that wasn't there. Another click, and there was only hoarse sobbing. A simple step put Kelt over her bent body, Tekla finally able to see something besides a gray ceiling. Bloodshot eyes stared up at him, pleading, crying. Kelt jacked off faster. Before she knew it, warm strands of cum began to spray on her face, the virile load she knew so well being cast to her fur.\n\nEvery impact of hot seed tensed her body a touch, eyes closing as her features were painted. She knew he was a productive male, just as she was a productive female, the jets of white continuing long past when most men would stop. By the end, her face was a wet, matted mess, soaked and smothered with his precious seed. Simple words spoke to her from the master looming above. \"Keep that on your face for the rest of the day, slut.''\n\nShe could only barely nod. Then pain, terrible flashes all through her bones. Dull clanks came as the winch was extended, her body finally given slack and unfolding, torso rising once more. The time spent in the awful position had set into her form, even freedom sparking grievances. She could not move as her body sprung back to laying down flat on the floor, the winch stopping once her cum-coated cheeks kissed the cold concrete. Clicks and clacks, the tight arm binder opened, the sister's hands spilling down to the floor in numbness. The room went quiet once more as the ankle-locks popped.\n\nStill, Kelt gave an order. \"Get your ass in the air.''\n\nTekla tried, she really did. But her legs were nothing but screaming jelly after being locked to the floor without moving. Kelt made little noise as he instead grabbed his slave's tail, ripping it hard in the air. Tekla choked a cry past her clenched teeth, but the goal was achieved. Her knees were tucked in, and her juicy rear was up on display, tail lifted to showcase her perfect holes. The masculine brother had no trouble kneeling behind her, even less trouble stuffing the tip of his softening cock up her asshole.\n\nAnother grunt from the sister, but the brother paid it no heed as he wiggled his hips, inching deeper into her warm ass. It wasn't but a second later he unleashed his own warmth into her, a torrent of harsh piss jetting inside her. It had no trouble flowing deeper, following her guts as it blasted right up her bowels. Tekla barely squirmed from the spreading heat of his urine coursing through her. He reached a hand down to latch around her neck, gripping and pushing her to the floor as he yanked her tail harder. \"Stop fucking squirming, toilet.''\n\nShe stilled under his oppressive form as the hot liquid worked deeper through her guts, worming around corners and bends as her upraised bottom gave it the force of gravity to flow further, only helped along by Kelt's powerful pressure. It was not a complete freeze, still whimpering, still twitching as her gut grumbled from the reverse addition of another body's waste. But she closed her eyes, and reminded herself that it was her life's purpose to serve her brother, no matter how disgusting, how painful, she loved him.\n\nTime seemed to breeze by, usually Kelt's use of her as his personal toilet seeming arduously longer than it actually was. This time, she was shocked when the stream of urine coursing through her slowed. Perhaps it was from being so out of it, half of her body still numb from the milking, nipples still red and screaming at her from the long term suction. Her mind was hazy, a flood of lingering pain and discomfort, still processing the hours she was milked. The sister's mind lagged behind, needing a moment to even realize that she had just been lifted up and dropped on her restraint table.\n\nA few quick adjustments and the table was shifted to more of a mix of dentist chair with stirrups to open her legs and bare her openings to a fuckmachine lined up under it. The large and spiral-spiked equine phallus currently attached and protruding from the seat was one she knew awfully well. No further words were needed as she struggled to move weak muscles, getting herself into position. Rear raised above the seat, her arms and legs kept her hips hovering over the painful XL toy. After all, he always wanted to do this part himself. Kelt came up and with his usual focused look, grabbed her hips and speared her piss-leaking asshole on the brutal pillar.\n\nShe screamed of course, the spikes digging through her rectum, ravaging her passage while he steadily impaled her. The barbs cut and burned with pain, though the actual damage was minimal. They were blunter then they looked, and Tekla's guts were built strong due to her sergal nature and her lifetime of anal training with toys just like these. Quivering, crying, discomfort playing on all her features, the goddess-like sister let her body conform to the chair as the agonizing shaft dug deeper. Had she not been so close to birth, belly already massive and rounded, there would be a clear point in her abdomen of the toy's tip.\n\nGently sobbing, she struggled to calm her breathing as the barbed implement bottomed out and she went motionless but for her own hurt convulsions. Objects began landing on her lap as Kelt tossed them, expecting her to do her part in preparing her for her 'therapy' of misery. This was not new, and she grabbed the first with shaky hands. A pre-powdered latex hood, thick and depriving while smothering her entire face. The only openings were her nostrils and mouth, that being a round port for various uses from facefucking to gagging, to what it would be used for now. Breathplay. Once snug to her angular head, she attached the small black tube with an ovular air-restriction bag at the end to the hood.\n\nA test breath contracted the bag and halted the air, as it should. With only the slightest hesitation, she put her nose plugs in and was fully lost to her brother's will. She could barely hear, had to work to breathe, and had no vision at all. In a way, perfect. Her mind and body became an open page for Kelt to work with. She felt the prick in her shoulder, then more. She hadn't asked what he injects her with every session, but she could only guess something to help prevent her inevitable open wounds from being infected.\n\nShe tensed and wailed anew as he kicked the fuckmachine's rotor setting on, the immense spiked dildo sent spinning quickly inside her to further harshly gouge her impaled colon. Following that searing instant, she nearly missed the clothespins being latched to her sensitive nips, gasping as they made contact. She instantly had a burst of writhing from the sharp pinching, the pain shocking right into her brain. But right alongside it was the conditioned response of joy, lust, servitude. Her hoodless cunt began to grow moist, puffy and dripping down to coat the dildo's piston.\n\nMoving around her and staring with an undeniable attraction, the masculine golden sergal both watched and worked. Until Kelt hopped up on the chair, kneeling on special pads beside her shuddering body as the spiked shaft spun inside her ceaselessly. He grabbed the handles on either side of her headrest, and scooted forwards to perfectly push his turgid foot of cock at her heaving chest. Feeling the poking tip slide through her cleavage, the sister knew a titjob was first on the list. She took her arms and hefted the wobbling swells, the balloon linked to her mask contracting rapidly as the motion amplified the clips on her teats. \n\nKelt nestled his impressive length between the divinely soft mounds, then let his slave sister smother his shaft by squeezing her tits together. With practiced motions and a trying to steady her breath puffing through the bag on the tube of her shiny hooded face, she bobbed her rack over his flexing member with a high sense of purpose. She always took bringing master to orgasm seriously, ensuring it was a sensual affair that always gave him more than what he wanted. The fat tits jiggling tightly around him at this moment were no exception. Though she was consumed mostly with pain, it was undeniable that it was the sharpest sensation out there, mixing with her duty and continuing to dim the line between pleasure and agony.\n\nLewd slapping sounds echoed as she jerked her dominant sibling off with her chest, the titjob just one part of the symphony in the basement. Stiff huffs of her restricted breathing, whines under her mask, the mechanical hum and fervent fleshy noise as the barbed horsecock impaling her ass diligently wore the treads off her entire digestive tract. Soon warmth pooled in her pliant canyon, Kelt exploding between the heavy breasts enveloping his entire pale knotted length. Tekla barely had time to appreciate the seed on her fur before the large man stepped off her chair, slapping her shiny featureless face to bring a yelp from Tekla.\n\nThe brother returned to pacing around the chair-bound sister, drinking in her gorgeous form before restraining Tekla's arms behind the seat in an arm-binder. As her breath gently quickened from the powerful hands on her body, he stretched her legs up to her head and locked her ankles to her collar. Left in a mating-press pose while upright on the chair, her legs went around her massive belly while the golden sergal's chest was open to watch her abused nipples sway their clamps with every difficult breath. All while her asshole dripped blood to the floor as the dildo spun inside her. The pregnant belly blocked its usual bulge in her abdomen, the only negative Kelt saw to her role as his breeder.\n\nIn an almost tame form of BDSM compared to their usual, Kelt's procurement of a crop and smacking her pussy until it was swollen and a harsh fiery tone under her fur gave Tekla a nice bit of the compounded sensations of pain in reward for her devotion. He walked around her folded body, smacking the crop at select points. Paws, breasts, arms, thighs, anything exposed was fair game. Once red marks were evenly spaced around her voluptuous body, all the sandy furred brother did was watch and grope. Circling her bound form, he ran his hands over her, bringing shivers along her pained spasms. Claws scraped to add a tingling thrill under the burning hurt, while his grabbing of her breasts helped focus the lines of ache and the pincer-pins still torturing her.\n\nA mire of sensation, unable to see and hear properly only made her feel everything so much more. She couldn't process it all, even this late into its routine. A blankness of pain and faint pleasure gave no meaning to the time spent there. She didn't even snap out of the crying and moaning daze when Kelt began slapping her marked breasts. The automatic focus on her breathing kept her immured, almost hypnotized by her body's stimuli even after the sharp dildo was halted, and even retracted. Tekla had been doing this for a long time, learning and adapting her mind and its focus.\n\nFirst and foremost was her breathing, the restricting bag making sure every breath was purposeful and worked for. But the rest of her mental ability was given to her sensitive parts, only the straining fire on her nipples and the sharp stings ringing throughout her rectum, but everything was still laced with the full-body hurt from the smacks of both hand and crop. Under this was the ever present burn of lust in her pussy, compounded by a heavy womb and increasingly frequent kicks from the child within. Not once did her body register the general dull ache of her body being moved, lifted to lay face down in her mating press position once the chair was returned to a table format. She couldn't see, only felt her head get placed on the rest, feel her fat breasts fall down into their slots to dangle under the table. The only sense she had was that her brother was handling her.\n\nTekla did notice when Kelt ripped off the clothespins on her teats, replacing them with two sharp, purpose built nipple clamps, Tekla squirming atop the table. Kelt knelt by the furniture, seeing its underside, a slab of articulated metal with the greatest pair of tits drooping down through perfectly made holes. Grabbing a hydraulic control hanging from the ceiling, Kelt raised the entire table to get those smacked-red boobs at operational level. One extra thing had a slot, swinging down through the device. Tekla's breath-balloon, contracting and expanding as wheezing drifted out the little hole at the end. The brother's focus was on the new clamps on his sister's abused teats, and took these tight instruments into his big hands and yanked down.\n\nGasping in silent pain under her hood, the matronly sergal stilled as she felt him stretch her tits out while the clamps dug into her already strained nips. It wasn't enough to rip them off, the single pain of the clothespin removal greater than this. But this pain was close, and longer, Kelt holding the secure tit-clips at just the right force to make her squirm. Squirm she did, the balloon getting rapid as her breasts swayed just a bit from her torso wiggling above, a murmuring whimper leaking out the breath-gag.\n\nThere was only Tekla's shuddering breathing and a rasping latex balloon as he prepared for the next part. She heard the noise, even under the layer of thick padded latex on her ear. The rattling, metal ringing of little wheels on concrete approaching. Kelt's little cart of horrors. A simple medical cart, though the items it carried differed greatly. There were fewer things without spikes or barbs, a whole tray of sharp implements that would make her flinch if she could see them. There was even a section purely for her sounding rods, thin metal with even thinner points going in all directions over the surface, akin to a sort of cactus. It certainly felt like Kelt was shoving a whole cactus up her urethra when he used them, but she took solace in knowing it was just her tits today. So she expected the noise of clattering needles on a stainless silver tray.\n\nHolding her breath, trying to stabilize over the resurgent echoes of what she's already been through so far, it was admirable how little she flinched when Kelt's large hand wrapped around her dangling breast in a vice grip. This part, the golden furred brother liked to take his time with. His free hand made calculated motions, precise and perfect. The first needle was grabbed, and after a distressing pause to the girl, the pointed metal was slid into her breast. It went in beside the nipple, Tekla's areola a favorite pincushion for Kelt. Whimpers followed, but all Kelt saw was a hanging pair of tits out of the table's underside. His favorite toys.\n\nThrough his steel grip around her breast, compressing it out a bit for better stabbing, he felt those delicious tenses wrack her body. The needle wasn't a great pain, but it was a direct one. Targeted and with purpose, she felt more from a tiny needle than a punch at times. As Kelt grabbed the second pointed instrument, there was no denying his returned arousal. Imposing cock hard and throbbing, it only increased as he made sure to push the needle into the soft pliant flesh agonizingly slow. He wanted to see it deform the skin until it broke through, puncturing the surface and sliding in. Wanted to feel every minute shiver he could send through his sister's body, wanted to truly eke out all the pain he could from her breasts. \n\nTo say he was good at doing just that was an understatement. The two needles quickly multiplied to four, then eight. Until a prime ten poked out of her areola in all directions, rounded colored tips contrasting the thin lines of blood where the metal reached her precious udders. Tekla was certainly feeling it, but the shudders were nothing yet. These were merely the appetizer, a small and pretty something to go with the main course. Deciding to wrap up this side, he chose the last needle he needed, a noticeably thicker one. Because it was a straight up nail. This would go straight into her nipple of course, right down the center.\n\nKelt grabbed the hammer on the cart, holding the nail to her little bud. A small but powerful hit brought a long hiss from her hooded skull, Kelt closing his eyes and letting the sound seep into his senses. This final insertion was long, deep and piercing, three sharp hits from the hammer echoed in the concrete room. It was at this point the true gasps came to her contracting bag, body moving what little it could to attempt to instinctively avoid the long sting of the nail being gradually stabbed in. At last, the iron grip on her tit was loosened as Kelt stepped back. Watching the fat tit drop, he admired her new `piercings' jutting out of her bud. His eyes saw how empty her other side was, and decided to fix that. Even slower this time.\n\nBy the time both breasts were made into lovely pincushions, the concrete under them was stained red with thin gradual beads dripping to the floor. Her toes twitched out of sight on the table above, gentle sobbing coming from her hooded face. Kelt couldn't stop admiring her noises and the beautiful tits hanging before him. Every little motion she made, every little noise from his sister, Kelt cherished. As he stroked himself, he smiled. Her pain had a purpose here, a reason. Him. It was with pure satisfaction that he picked up the skewer. With purer desire, he used a small chain to link her nipple-clamps, squeezing her large breasts together. And with the greatest joy, he stabbed the long metal spear right through both fat mounds.\n\nTekla screamed, or tried to. Her breath-restriction made it a horrible wheeze, before she passed out.\n\n-\n\nShe barely heard the hydraulics over the sound of her own breathing in the rubber hood, but the kiss of a cold metal pole rising up to meet her abused anus didn't wake her. But the chill of its rounded tip forcing its way into her guts certainly made her shiver and finally open her eyes. Kelt casually held the `extend' button on his one-bar-prison setup, watching the stainless steel pole rise from the floor and vanish into his pregnant sister's rear as she tiredly stood over it, hands cuffed together and held up by a hook hanging from the ceiling.\n\nHe saw her tense, latex hooded face rise in a flash, the gasp sucking the balloon sparse, and he knew the bar hit her deep. No reason to push more, he let the control box dangle from the ceiling and approached her. There was almost no fanfare as the masculine sergal took one of her snug nipple clamps between his fingers and twisted with all his might. As her soft, needle-filled swell deformed with rotation, Kelt cherished the sound she made while eyeing the skewer still running through the pliant meat. He watched her fervently squirm as muffled cries sounded past her shiny black hood. Her chest began heaving with a combination of sobbing and the air restricting bag doing its job as he kept her bud locked in a heavy twist.\n\nOnly when Kelt heard hoarse wheezing did he relent, releasing his grip and letting the tortured tit untwist. The next bit was something `tame'. A simple switch. Rudimentary, a stick, but the marks and stings it left were more than perfect. Smacks echoed about the concrete space as Tekla's clamped and stabbed rack was battered with the instrument, shaking atop the pole deep in her colon that forced her to tippy-toes as pained cries were muffled by her hood. This was a one handed endeavor for the brother, his other stroking a steeled member as it dripped pre to the floor. She was left a shuddery mess as new stinging spots coated her chest, unable to hear Kelt put the switch down.\n\nGripping his knot for stimulation, Kelt swung a powerful fist right into her right tit. Hitting below the nipple, it didn't touch the needles, merely bouncing both boobs as it wobbled and jiggled in unison from the skewer while a short pitched scream came out of her hood with no problems. Delivering another strike to the other side, the noise coming from her was guttural and pained, loud and miserable. This is what Kelt needed, a true release, venting his own building violence.\n\nA near-whispered \"good girl'' came from the brother before he settled into a violent rhythm of punches. With her legs busy keeping her ass from being impaled on a pole, her arms high above her head, her large motherly breasts bared to the brother. Both plump mounds were presented perfectly for him to abuse. He keenly watched the pristine ivory color of her underbelly change as time went on, bruised with ugly fist-sized splotches as her entire bosom lost the pink of life at a snail's pace from the blood trickling out from the skewer points. Kelt wasn't afraid, he'd be done long before serious issues arose.\n\nRight now Kelt was just focused on using his sister's breasts as punching bags. And he was just getting started. After a long time of jacking off and venting frustrations onto his sister's helpless body, he stopped. Breathing hard and rubbing his hands, knuckles showing only a fraction of the pain they inflicted upon the softly sobbing form of his sister, trapped in the compromising position and sat atop a thick pole. He wished she could see the smile on his face, a weight lifted on his heart. It would return, but in this moment he passed his pain to her.\n\nHis broad hands gently cupped her rubber coated face, feeling the shudders of misery through it. A gentle stroking of his thumb over the shiny surface, he leaned forward to hug his sobbing sister. She stilled, the touch comforting her tortured nerves. Tekla did what little she could to push her head into his touch, cherishing the contact that contrasted her treatment. His hands left, and picked up the switch again. This time her ass and legs were the target.\n\n-\n\nKelt dragged her body through the house, yanking her up the stairs by her cuffed wrists. She shuddered and cried, but was too weak to do anything else besides let out ugly crying under her latex hood. The breathing pipe was removed, now her jaws were forced open with a wide ring-gag, letting her openly sob and choke on her spit as she slid over the floor. Her breasts looked terrible, new lines of red-splotched gauze hiding the fierce bruises. Her legs were now bound together, a belt around her thighs as well.\n\nThe golden sergal pulled her to the bedroom, the sun setting outside the large living room windows as he dragged her by her hands, pregnant body bound and limp. Upon reaching the destination he threw her forward, her quaking body shivering on the hard-wood. He gave her back a few good kicks, watching her tense with fresh cries. Grabbing the mane of fluff around her neck, he yanked her up to a kneeling position. Just to slap her face before throwing her onto the bed. Squirming with agony, Kelt unlatched her hands and then tied each one to a bedpost with a long rope. He made sure her distraught, gagged face would be crotch level when he lay down. Climbing over her featureless face, nothing but a mouth that gently sobbed, Kelt got into bed.\n\nDropping his crotch over her skull, his burgeoning cock had no trouble going into the held-open slot in her mask. Before he was fully hard, he pulled the covers over them and began to piss. Feeling the panic in a newly flailing tongue trying to control the flow, Kelt smiled atop soft pillows as her miserable cries were interrupted with sputtering gulps. When she was noisily swallowing more than whimpering, fully overwhelmed with the task of not drowning in piss, Kelt moved his hands to splay out near hers. After his heavy bladder was finally empty, and his dick was ready to fuck this fresh warm hole it found itself in, Kelt hummed.\n\nHe knew she likely wouldn't hear any words he said, but felt they needed saying. \"Thanks for an amazing day.'' The masculine sergal began rocking his hips, gently facefucking the garbled-crying sister. \"Good night, bitch. Sleep well.'' Spoke the brother as his tip began pushing into her throat on every rolling thrust. Once he settled into a rhythm where she had no time to cry, too busy gagging on cock, balls slapping to her chin, Kelt moved his hands atop her bound ones. With the creaking bed and wet facefucking continuing long into the night, he intertwined his fingers with hers the moment their palms touched. This would be one of his best nights of sleep since their first night in this new home. Their home.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Tekla was busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her brother. Her master. He had shown her the recipe himself, guided her through the motions she now did on her own. It was difficult, not having his hands on her own to perform the delicate tasks she was so new to. Some mistakes were to be had, a couple sheepish `eep!'s and some spilled ingredients now decorated her bright sandy fur. It didn't stop the shapely sergal woman from moving with pride, showing a body of pure traditional beauty. She was well bred, in that her belly ballooned out with the obscenity of a late term pregnancy, hands idly rubbing the life in her expansive middle.

After all, any task she did in service to her twin brother was one she cherished. Cooking was just another one slowly being added to a long list of roles. Suddenly perking up upon hearing her master's voice, Tekla turned her angular snout to face the dining table across the grand room. The far side was windows, two and half stories tall and framed in heavy timber to show a verdant landscape of mountains beyond the clear glass. A masculine sergal with an identical pelt and stature as Tekla sat at the end of the table, watching, waiting. Kelt stared intently, eyes sharp and silver as they constantly stared at her buxom form.

His words were simple, spoken with a concise and cold tone. "Show your body off more, whore. You need to jiggle your ass if you're just standing there so I can look at something. You're naked for a reason, your body is to be displayed at all times. Do not forget that you are beautiful and I am always looking, so you should always be presenting.''

Quickly nodding, the sexy sister gave a slight startle of embarrassment about being called out. It came to her immediate attention that she had gotten so focused on the food, she had forgotten to be good eye-candy for Kelt. "Y-Yes master!'' Returning to tend to the sizzling pan, she made sure to bounce on her paws a bit and rotate her hips to send wonderful quakes about her milf-y body. Her thick ass quaked and her huge milk-heavy tits rolled around in mesmerizing flowing jiggles. Balancing the weight of her heavily pregnant belly was a difficult task, but one she was used to. The golden sergal wore a third trimester bump like it was normal, because it was. She had been constantly pregnant since she could bear children, all created by her beloved brother, perfectly fulfilling the role of his personal breeder.

The fate of the offspring was grim, none survived, since before this mansion was a concrete tunnel in a forgotten corner of a city. Children were simply out of the question, even if he wanted to keep them. She supposed it was a good thing he didn't, instead using up their life for his pleasure. Still, she wore a smile and had a skip to her step as she brought a heavy plate of food to her waiting master. He eyed it briefly before giving a plain nod. "Good.''

"What now, master?'' Eagerly asked the sister, submission and servitude all she knows at this point, no matter the cost. Her brother's happiness is what mattered, because he did so much for her.

"Remain here beside me, breakfast is always best with fresh milk. Hold your tits out and keep still, cow.'' In suave motions and mannerisms that flew in the face of the constant derogatory names he called his slave, he began to eat. Every once and a while, Kelt would turn his head and grip the nearest grope-begging massive milk-plump breast on his sister's chest as the gorgeous sergal stood patiently. A few quick suckles and a sharp bite that made her gasp while leaving a mark on her nipple, then he was back to eating. This would repeat, graciously relieving the pressure of her full teats. She was filling up quickly so close to term, permanently lactating since she was sixteen.

Once finished, she obediently took the plate to lick it clean of any unwanted bits and sticky cold food residue before placing it in the sink. Returning to him, the pregnant sister would bend over and reach back to spread her round cheeks and lift her tail to present a tantalizing tailhole above a bare, constantly wet slit. It lacked the sergal's trademark prehensile hood, Kelt cutting it off in her teens so as there was nothing in the way of using her pussy at any time. He did graciously leave her clitoris, but delegated her vagina to breeding only. Once she was pregnant, she was anal only. It drove her mad with the hormones and sped up her anal conditioning to find even the roughest usage of her backdoor as bliss.

With that rear presented to him, Kelt quickly stuffed his dirty crumpled napkin past her pucker. Poking it in deep, he slapped her juicy ass and returned to sipping his coffee. Dishwasher and trash can were both on her list of duties, after all. The womanly sister returned to face him and presented her body with an expectant look, knowing nothing more would be done until he finished his coffee.

Still, she risked it. "Master?'' Asked the willing slave, catching the quick lock of his icy silver eyes to her.

Pausing, a calm "Yes?'' came in reply.

"What do you want to do to me today?'' Tekla asked with a curious tone.

Another moment spent silent as his thoughts moved unheard. With a sigh, he set his mug down and met her eyes directly to bring a slight flush to her features. "It's about time for another therapy session.'' He calmly reached out to the obedient sister, slipping his palm under a heavy motherly teat. He lifted it, Tekla standing still as he rolled her mound, before letting it fall back as he took a sip. "I want to torture your breasts today.''

She couldn't stop the instinctual worried glance at her bountiful rack, but there was no resistance in her voice. "Okay master, thank you for telling me.'' The pregnant sister gave a wide smile at his simple nod. While there was no defiance, fear still applied. Even if she strove to be the best paintoy she could for him, pain was still pain. Kelt had done wonders in blurring the lines between pain and pleasure, but when it was a moment of undiluted, direct pain just for the sake of pain... Well, it's natural to be afraid, and she was. But it would not hamper her drive of servitude, there was even some adrenaline thrill creeping up her spine. She was almost as determined as he was to make pain into her pleasure.

The matronly sergal remained a sexy thing to gaze upon until he was ready, silently following him with drooped features as he got up and made for the basement. The familiar harsh lights flicked on, the concrete room one she knew well. Her specially made restraint table rest in the middle of the large space, a compound piece of furniture for the express purpose of torturing her. Other various installations of violent or simple BDSM themes were sprinkled through the space, some of which Tekla still hasn't experienced.

Still keeping her gaze on her brother's nude form, she nodded as he gestured to her milking rack. "You need to be drained first, and I have some meetings to attend for the next few hours. Should be plenty of time for a milking cycle to complete.''

Tekla gulped, milking a very common occurrence. Didn't make it easier. Without being told, the matronly sergal wandered over the concrete floor, features low and eyes locked to the floor. No protests, no argument, just resignation. Only the sense of duty and the look of her master brought a tiny fake smile. It vanished quickly as she went to the milking corner, homemade stencils marking the area. Kelt was close behind her, a presence never truly too far away, always at the edge of her senses.

She had taken well to the process, well versed in memorizing her brother's instructions. The shimmering gold fur and white countershading of her pelt gleamed under the harsh lights, standing out amongst the dark surfaces. She reached to the hooks impaled on the wall, lifting her gear off. Holding the black leather in her hands, she stared at it a moment longer than needed. With a breath, she handed it to Kelt and turned around. Holding her arms out behind her, they were quickly wrapped up in the armbinder, Kelt cinching the material tight with practiced efficiency.

Both turned to the corner she had knew so well after such a small time in the home. Within the marked area, were only two things. Metal cuffs built into the concrete floor. Tekla approached these with all the haste of a death's-row inmate, face sad but determined. With folded ears and a still tail, the shapely sergal laid on the cold surface, hissing slightly as her chest pressed to the stone-cold floor. Kelt helped her fine-tune the position, her pregnant belly making fine maneuvers difficult. She ended with her ankles in those cuffs, before the stoic brother clicked them down and locked her feet to the ground.

Laying out on her front, arms bound straight behind her, Tekla waited for the next step and the ache it brought. On the wall was a winch, spooled chain linked to a heavy hook. It was right behind her, Tekla's tensely curled toes pointing right at it. She heard the rattle as Kelt grabbed it, the heavy clinking as the line of metal was unraveled. His footsteps came beside her, then the tug of the hook latching to the heavy ring on her armbinder, right at her wrists. Every noise in the room was tenfold, the sister's rash breathing, Kelt's measured paces as he returned to the wall. The heavy clunk of a lever and the deep hum of a servo.

The pressure was instant, pulling her arms to the wall, keeping them straight back as her torso lifted. With her ankles locked, her body had to bend backwards, Tekla's face scrunching in a grimace as her body stretched and curled over itself, head lifting off the floor to be pulled back with her entire torso. Every second added to the feeling that her very bones stretched, a terrible ache settling into her body. When it stopped, her shoulders were tucked in behind her knees, arms stiffly out behind her, pointing barely above her spine. Her legs were just as stiff from being locked to the ground, a true show of flexibility on display even as her pregnant middle bulged out her frame. It shows that Kelt had made sure she grew up limber.

Tekla's massive motherly tits rest high, pointing towards her face slightly as they canted off the sides of her body, her legs providing low walls for the squishy mounds. Tears already began to well up as she groaned, muscles and her entire skeleton screaming at her. No relief came as Kelt returned, staring down at his slave's wincing face. He knelt, the brother's own intense features peering closer for a moment. Until he grabbed a heavy breast, and took the ring he was holding around it. A simple shape, the ring was made of metal, thin but tough, and lined with spikes that had no trouble piercing skin.

Lifting up Tekla's swell with fingers tight around her nipple, she only made a pained sound and squirmed more as he clasped the metal band around the base of her tit. The boob remained more centered in its gelatinous shape, the spiked barrier keeping it from falling too much. Yet the true purpose of the ring was the single wire leading away from it, Tekla unable to see its end but knowing all the same. She slightly squealed as her brother's firm fingers pinched her other bud, stretching her breast up high before another needle-lined ring locked around the free teat. This one too had a wire, leading to the same spot.

A simple box, with a small dial, and a little switch. It was already plugged into the wall, and Kelt flicked it on. A pitched capacitor whine began, buzzing right to Tekla's ears as her breathing sharpened. The terrible position was a foundation for her suffering, the spikes holding her breasts the core. The next thing was always the shock-torture. Every 30 to 300 seconds a powerful shock would be sent to her hefty tits through the rings, right into her flesh and piercing her nerves. With her body bent back so hard and the stings of the rings, the pregnant sister clenched her eyes shut as the building pitch burned through her mind.

There was little fuss as Kelt wrapped a tight wire around her muzzle, locking her jaws together, hard. Pathetic mewls and gurgles were all that made it past her sealed lips, face tight in discomfort and reluctance. The bent back sister peered into her brother's eyes for the split moment she opened them, a shared heartbeat before he moved on. The first shock hit while he was getting the other equipment, the building buzz discharged as her body went rigid and her voice tried to scream.

The current passed in but a moment, though the shock lingered in the beautiful sister's mind for an eternity. The voltage holding her body hostage had long vanished by the time Kelt rolled a cart over, Tekla consigned to stressed breathing billowing through her nostrils as her entire form ached. The ache only increased as Kelt took the pumps from the milking cart, and firmly attached them to her upturned breasts. The cups had no trouble sealing a vacuum to her sensitive teats, suction kicking on immediately as a low rhythmic whirring began beside her.

The droning hum of the capacitor charging blocked out the hissing from the milkers, but she felt the industrial power begin ripping the fluid out of her swells with a painful fervor. It didn't take long for a fire to set into her buds, the machine uncaring of her sensations as it worked at full power. Kelt eyed the jug on the lower shelf of the cart, watching the line of white appear and rise slowly. All as the girl twisted back tried to make noise past her bound mouth, face contorted as another charge wracked her body while the suckers continued to tug at her spike-bound tits.

Kelt double checked all the ruthless machinery, making sure she was bent at a properly painful angle, the shocks were powerful enough, the spikes dug into the base of her breasts, and the milkers were far beyond a comfortable setting. He watched her writhe and choke from the oppressive sensations, nothing less than torture as her milk was extracted. A final smile at her sad teary eyes and he made for the stairs, flicking the light off as he left. Tekla was left alone with her miserable treatment and the ominous building buzz keeping her on edge, the dark letting only her pain and the camera-flash like whine permeate her mind.

-

He ended the call abruptly, as usual. Kelt wasn't one for small talk, or lingering farewells for a business conversation. The sergal stood behind his standing desk, eyeing the screens with those icy silver eyes. Perfect posture on his toned body, shoulders square, spine straight. Though even the golden furred man would admit it was overdone at this moment, stressing his body's posture to avoid the rising feelings. Anger, most of all. He accomplished what he set out to do with the call, though running a company is not something pretty and easy.

He glanced at the time, almost a full day of work passing, five hours gone by since he set Tekla up to be milked. The long fluffy tail curled behind him pulled a chair over, the naked sergal slowly sitting down as his desk descended. One hand continued to operate the computer's mouse, logging him out, while his other latched around his hard cock. Idle strokes graced its flesh, though Kelt had barely a twitch changing his steely face. He simply had a powerful sex drive, always in the mood- no, need, to breed. And at the worst times. Good thing he had a sister in the basement he could rape whenever.

The faintest of smiles graced his long muzzle, realizing that he himself might have conditioned his body this way. After all, he has bred quite a bit with his sister. Every chance he could, in fact. As the screen illuminating his masculine form went dark, he stood, a confident stride leading him out of his office. Still stroking his pale knotted shaft, his other hand graced the handrails as he walked down from the loft, then right to the lower level. It took little time to pad past the second living room, the bar, the spare rooms, right to that metal door.

He paused before it, pointed ears perked, tail actually wagging slightly. He smiled when he could just barely hear his sister suffering behind the door. An echoing click booms through the concrete basement, light pouring in to the twisted space. Flickering fluorescent lights bloomed, fully showing the room. And there she was, in her corner, just where he left her. Measured steps brought him close to the golden beauty, Kelt savoring the approach. She looked more and more gorgeous as he could see more of the suffering in her features.

Body bent backwards, folded over itself, pregnant belly round and prominent. Above that swollen middle were her motherly tits, the spiked rings holding them center as their mass fell under gravity. They seemed to gently pump, the suction cups sealed around her nipples tugging in an alternating fashion. Within those clear cups were stains of white, and where he could see past those were puffy and overworked teats. Kelt admired the body before him, and what he was doing to it.

But few things could top her face. His sister's face was perfect, yet it was elevated now. Face matted with tears, eyes red and miserable, spit leaking down her wire-shut mouth. She gurgled and choked, trying to scream, had clearly been for the past hours. He watched her form jump rigid as the capacitor whine silenced for the shortest moment, before her body relaxed into the usual tortured panic, breathing through nostrils bubbling with snot as she sobbed.

He knelt by the cart holding the milking machine, eyeing the jugs. Both were about halfway, the white line immobile since Tekla's swells ran dry hours ago. It was a very productive session. Kelt was quite proud of his sister's milk production, honed over years of countless pregnancies. Still, he wondered if he could boost it, or use it. Perhaps her breasts would make a good testbed for a `new mother' drug line. The proud sergal stood and watched his sister's torture for awhile longer, listening to her attempted cries, watching her tense and convulse as her body lay bent over.

A steady hand pumped his cock, taking relief from seeing her in pain. It wasn't the incredible discomfort in her worn body, or the volume of her gurgled failed screams that gave him peace. It was that he had done this, pure simple venting of his bottled up violence. An almost dreamy sigh whispered past his wedged snout as Tekla froze with another burst of electricity, eyes flashing wide as her voice tried to go shrill. When the current's grip of her muscles released again, Kelt's free hand flicked a switch, and the building pitch of charge didn't return.

He waited a moment more, hearing her raspy breaths, the puffs of the milking machine still trying to pull out milk that wasn't there. Another click, and there was only hoarse sobbing. A simple step put Kelt over her bent body, Tekla finally able to see something besides a gray ceiling. Bloodshot eyes stared up at him, pleading, crying. Kelt jacked off faster. Before she knew it, warm strands of cum began to spray on her face, the virile load she knew so well being cast to her fur.

Every impact of hot seed tensed her body a touch, eyes closing as her features were painted. She knew he was a productive male, just as she was a productive female, the jets of white continuing long past when most men would stop. By the end, her face was a wet, matted mess, soaked and smothered with his precious seed. Simple words spoke to her from the master looming above. "Keep that on your face for the rest of the day, slut.''

She could only barely nod. Then pain, terrible flashes all through her bones. Dull clanks came as the winch was extended, her body finally given slack and unfolding, torso rising once more. The time spent in the awful position had set into her form, even freedom sparking grievances. She could not move as her body sprung back to laying down flat on the floor, the winch stopping once her cum-coated cheeks kissed the cold concrete. Clicks and clacks, the tight arm binder opened, the sister's hands spilling down to the floor in numbness. The room went quiet once more as the ankle-locks popped.

Still, Kelt gave an order. "Get your ass in the air.''

Tekla tried, she really did. But her legs were nothing but screaming jelly after being locked to the floor without moving. Kelt made little noise as he instead grabbed his slave's tail, ripping it hard in the air. Tekla choked a cry past her clenched teeth, but the goal was achieved. Her knees were tucked in, and her juicy rear was up on display, tail lifted to showcase her perfect holes. The masculine brother had no trouble kneeling behind her, even less trouble stuffing the tip of his softening cock up her asshole.

Another grunt from the sister, but the brother paid it no heed as he wiggled his hips, inching deeper into her warm ass. It wasn't but a second later he unleashed his own warmth into her, a torrent of harsh piss jetting inside her. It had no trouble flowing deeper, following her guts as it blasted right up her bowels. Tekla barely squirmed from the spreading heat of his urine coursing through her. He reached a hand down to latch around her neck, gripping and pushing her to the floor as he yanked her tail harder. "Stop fucking squirming, toilet.''

She stilled under his oppressive form as the hot liquid worked deeper through her guts, worming around corners and bends as her upraised bottom gave it the force of gravity to flow further, only helped along by Kelt's powerful pressure. It was not a complete freeze, still whimpering, still twitching as her gut grumbled from the reverse addition of another body's waste. But she closed her eyes, and reminded herself that it was her life's purpose to serve her brother, no matter how disgusting, how painful, she loved him.

Time seemed to breeze by, usually Kelt's use of her as his personal toilet seeming arduously longer than it actually was. This time, she was shocked when the stream of urine coursing through her slowed. Perhaps it was from being so out of it, half of her body still numb from the milking, nipples still red and screaming at her from the long term suction. Her mind was hazy, a flood of lingering pain and discomfort, still processing the hours she was milked. The sister's mind lagged behind, needing a moment to even realize that she had just been lifted up and dropped on her restraint table.

A few quick adjustments and the table was shifted to more of a mix of dentist chair with stirrups to open her legs and bare her openings to a fuckmachine lined up under it. The large and spiral-spiked equine phallus currently attached and protruding from the seat was one she knew awfully well. No further words were needed as she struggled to move weak muscles, getting herself into position. Rear raised above the seat, her arms and legs kept her hips hovering over the painful XL toy. After all, he always wanted to do this part himself. Kelt came up and with his usual focused look, grabbed her hips and speared her piss-leaking asshole on the brutal pillar.

She screamed of course, the spikes digging through her rectum, ravaging her passage while he steadily impaled her. The barbs cut and burned with pain, though the actual damage was minimal. They were blunter then they looked, and Tekla's guts were built strong due to her sergal nature and her lifetime of anal training with toys just like these. Quivering, crying, discomfort playing on all her features, the goddess-like sister let her body conform to the chair as the agonizing shaft dug deeper. Had she not been so close to birth, belly already massive and rounded, there would be a clear point in her abdomen of the toy's tip.

Gently sobbing, she struggled to calm her breathing as the barbed implement bottomed out and she went motionless but for her own hurt convulsions. Objects began landing on her lap as Kelt tossed them, expecting her to do her part in preparing her for her 'therapy' of misery. This was not new, and she grabbed the first with shaky hands. A pre-powdered latex hood, thick and depriving while smothering her entire face. The only openings were her nostrils and mouth, that being a round port for various uses from facefucking to gagging, to what it would be used for now. Breathplay. Once snug to her angular head, she attached the small black tube with an ovular air-restriction bag at the end to the hood.

A test breath contracted the bag and halted the air, as it should. With only the slightest hesitation, she put her nose plugs in and was fully lost to her brother's will. She could barely hear, had to work to breathe, and had no vision at all. In a way, perfect. Her mind and body became an open page for Kelt to work with. She felt the prick in her shoulder, then more. She hadn't asked what he injects her with every session, but she could only guess something to help prevent her inevitable open wounds from being infected.

She tensed and wailed anew as he kicked the fuckmachine's rotor setting on, the immense spiked dildo sent spinning quickly inside her to further harshly gouge her impaled colon. Following that searing instant, she nearly missed the clothespins being latched to her sensitive nips, gasping as they made contact. She instantly had a burst of writhing from the sharp pinching, the pain shocking right into her brain. But right alongside it was the conditioned response of joy, lust, servitude. Her hoodless cunt began to grow moist, puffy and dripping down to coat the dildo's piston.

Moving around her and staring with an undeniable attraction, the masculine golden sergal both watched and worked. Until Kelt hopped up on the chair, kneeling on special pads beside her shuddering body as the spiked shaft spun inside her ceaselessly. He grabbed the handles on either side of her headrest, and scooted forwards to perfectly push his turgid foot of cock at her heaving chest. Feeling the poking tip slide through her cleavage, the sister knew a titjob was first on the list. She took her arms and hefted the wobbling swells, the balloon linked to her mask contracting rapidly as the motion amplified the clips on her teats.

Kelt nestled his impressive length between the divinely soft mounds, then let his slave sister smother his shaft by squeezing her tits together. With practiced motions and a trying to steady her breath puffing through the bag on the tube of her shiny hooded face, she bobbed her rack over his flexing member with a high sense of purpose. She always took bringing master to orgasm seriously, ensuring it was a sensual affair that always gave him more than what he wanted. The fat tits jiggling tightly around him at this moment were no exception. Though she was consumed mostly with pain, it was undeniable that it was the sharpest sensation out there, mixing with her duty and continuing to dim the line between pleasure and agony.

Lewd slapping sounds echoed as she jerked her dominant sibling off with her chest, the titjob just one part of the symphony in the basement. Stiff huffs of her restricted breathing, whines under her mask, the mechanical hum and fervent fleshy noise as the barbed horsecock impaling her ass diligently wore the treads off her entire digestive tract. Soon warmth pooled in her pliant canyon, Kelt exploding between the heavy breasts enveloping his entire pale knotted length. Tekla barely had time to appreciate the seed on her fur before the large man stepped off her chair, slapping her shiny featureless face to bring a yelp from Tekla.

The brother returned to pacing around the chair-bound sister, drinking in her gorgeous form before restraining Tekla's arms behind the seat in an arm-binder. As her breath gently quickened from the powerful hands on her body, he stretched her legs up to her head and locked her ankles to her collar. Left in a mating-press pose while upright on the chair, her legs went around her massive belly while the golden sergal's chest was open to watch her abused nipples sway their clamps with every difficult breath. All while her asshole dripped blood to the floor as the dildo spun inside her. The pregnant belly blocked its usual bulge in her abdomen, the only negative Kelt saw to her role as his breeder.

In an almost tame form of BDSM compared to their usual, Kelt's procurement of a crop and smacking her pussy until it was swollen and a harsh fiery tone under her fur gave Tekla a nice bit of the compounded sensations of pain in reward for her devotion. He walked around her folded body, smacking the crop at select points. Paws, breasts, arms, thighs, anything exposed was fair game. Once red marks were evenly spaced around her voluptuous body, all the sandy furred brother did was watch and grope. Circling her bound form, he ran his hands over her, bringing shivers along her pained spasms. Claws scraped to add a tingling thrill under the burning hurt, while his grabbing of her breasts helped focus the lines of ache and the pincer-pins still torturing her.

A mire of sensation, unable to see and hear properly only made her feel everything so much more. She couldn't process it all, even this late into its routine. A blankness of pain and faint pleasure gave no meaning to the time spent there. She didn't even snap out of the crying and moaning daze when Kelt began slapping her marked breasts. The automatic focus on her breathing kept her immured, almost hypnotized by her body's stimuli even after the sharp dildo was halted, and even retracted. Tekla had been doing this for a long time, learning and adapting her mind and its focus.

First and foremost was her breathing, the restricting bag making sure every breath was purposeful and worked for. But the rest of her mental ability was given to her sensitive parts, only the straining fire on her nipples and the sharp stings ringing throughout her rectum, but everything was still laced with the full-body hurt from the smacks of both hand and crop. Under this was the ever present burn of lust in her pussy, compounded by a heavy womb and increasingly frequent kicks from the child within. Not once did her body register the general dull ache of her body being moved, lifted to lay face down in her mating press position once the chair was returned to a table format. She couldn't see, only felt her head get placed on the rest, feel her fat breasts fall down into their slots to dangle under the table. The only sense she had was that her brother was handling her.

Tekla did notice when Kelt ripped off the clothespins on her teats, replacing them with two sharp, purpose built nipple clamps, Tekla squirming atop the table. Kelt knelt by the furniture, seeing its underside, a slab of articulated metal with the greatest pair of tits drooping down through perfectly made holes. Grabbing a hydraulic control hanging from the ceiling, Kelt raised the entire table to get those smacked-red boobs at operational level. One extra thing had a slot, swinging down through the device. Tekla's breath-balloon, contracting and expanding as wheezing drifted out the little hole at the end. The brother's focus was on the new clamps on his sister's abused teats, and took these tight instruments into his big hands and yanked down.

Gasping in silent pain under her hood, the matronly sergal stilled as she felt him stretch her tits out while the clamps dug into her already strained nips. It wasn't enough to rip them off, the single pain of the clothespin removal greater than this. But this pain was close, and longer, Kelt holding the secure tit-clips at just the right force to make her squirm. Squirm she did, the balloon getting rapid as her breasts swayed just a bit from her torso wiggling above, a murmuring whimper leaking out the breath-gag.

There was only Tekla's shuddering breathing and a rasping latex balloon as he prepared for the next part. She heard the noise, even under the layer of thick padded latex on her ear. The rattling, metal ringing of little wheels on concrete approaching. Kelt's little cart of horrors. A simple medical cart, though the items it carried differed greatly. There were fewer things without spikes or barbs, a whole tray of sharp implements that would make her flinch if she could see them. There was even a section purely for her sounding rods, thin metal with even thinner points going in all directions over the surface, akin to a sort of cactus. It certainly felt like Kelt was shoving a whole cactus up her urethra when he used them, but she took solace in knowing it was just her tits today. So she expected the noise of clattering needles on a stainless silver tray.

Holding her breath, trying to stabilize over the resurgent echoes of what she's already been through so far, it was admirable how little she flinched when Kelt's large hand wrapped around her dangling breast in a vice grip. This part, the golden furred brother liked to take his time with. His free hand made calculated motions, precise and perfect. The first needle was grabbed, and after a distressing pause to the girl, the pointed metal was slid into her breast. It went in beside the nipple, Tekla's areola a favorite pincushion for Kelt. Whimpers followed, but all Kelt saw was a hanging pair of tits out of the table's underside. His favorite toys.

Through his steel grip around her breast, compressing it out a bit for better stabbing, he felt those delicious tenses wrack her body. The needle wasn't a great pain, but it was a direct one. Targeted and with purpose, she felt more from a tiny needle than a punch at times. As Kelt grabbed the second pointed instrument, there was no denying his returned arousal. Imposing cock hard and throbbing, it only increased as he made sure to push the needle into the soft pliant flesh agonizingly slow. He wanted to see it deform the skin until it broke through, puncturing the surface and sliding in. Wanted to feel every minute shiver he could send through his sister's body, wanted to truly eke out all the pain he could from her breasts.

To say he was good at doing just that was an understatement. The two needles quickly multiplied to four, then eight. Until a prime ten poked out of her areola in all directions, rounded colored tips contrasting the thin lines of blood where the metal reached her precious udders. Tekla was certainly feeling it, but the shudders were nothing yet. These were merely the appetizer, a small and pretty something to go with the main course. Deciding to wrap up this side, he chose the last needle he needed, a noticeably thicker one. Because it was a straight up nail. This would go straight into her nipple of course, right down the center.

Kelt grabbed the hammer on the cart, holding the nail to her little bud. A small but powerful hit brought a long hiss from her hooded skull, Kelt closing his eyes and letting the sound seep into his senses. This final insertion was long, deep and piercing, three sharp hits from the hammer echoed in the concrete room. It was at this point the true gasps came to her contracting bag, body moving what little it could to attempt to instinctively avoid the long sting of the nail being gradually stabbed in. At last, the iron grip on her tit was loosened as Kelt stepped back. Watching the fat tit drop, he admired her new `piercings' jutting out of her bud. His eyes saw how empty her other side was, and decided to fix that. Even slower this time.

By the time both breasts were made into lovely pincushions, the concrete under them was stained red with thin gradual beads dripping to the floor. Her toes twitched out of sight on the table above, gentle sobbing coming from her hooded face. Kelt couldn't stop admiring her noises and the beautiful tits hanging before him. Every little motion she made, every little noise from his sister, Kelt cherished. As he stroked himself, he smiled. Her pain had a purpose here, a reason. Him. It was with pure satisfaction that he picked up the skewer. With purer desire, he used a small chain to link her nipple-clamps, squeezing her large breasts together. And with the greatest joy, he stabbed the long metal spear right through both fat mounds.

Tekla screamed, or tried to. Her breath-restriction made it a horrible wheeze, before she passed out.

-

She barely heard the hydraulics over the sound of her own breathing in the rubber hood, but the kiss of a cold metal pole rising up to meet her abused anus didn't wake her. But the chill of its rounded tip forcing its way into her guts certainly made her shiver and finally open her eyes. Kelt casually held the `extend' button on his one-bar-prison setup, watching the stainless steel pole rise from the floor and vanish into his pregnant sister's rear as she tiredly stood over it, hands cuffed together and held up by a hook hanging from the ceiling.

He saw her tense, latex hooded face rise in a flash, the gasp sucking the balloon sparse, and he knew the bar hit her deep. No reason to push more, he let the control box dangle from the ceiling and approached her. There was almost no fanfare as the masculine sergal took one of her snug nipple clamps between his fingers and twisted with all his might. As her soft, needle-filled swell deformed with rotation, Kelt cherished the sound she made while eyeing the skewer still running through the pliant meat. He watched her fervently squirm as muffled cries sounded past her shiny black hood. Her chest began heaving with a combination of sobbing and the air restricting bag doing its job as he kept her bud locked in a heavy twist.

Only when Kelt heard hoarse wheezing did he relent, releasing his grip and letting the tortured tit untwist. The next bit was something `tame'. A simple switch. Rudimentary, a stick, but the marks and stings it left were more than perfect. Smacks echoed about the concrete space as Tekla's clamped and stabbed rack was battered with the instrument, shaking atop the pole deep in her colon that forced her to tippy-toes as pained cries were muffled by her hood. This was a one handed endeavor for the brother, his other stroking a steeled member as it dripped pre to the floor. She was left a shuddery mess as new stinging spots coated her chest, unable to hear Kelt put the switch down.

Gripping his knot for stimulation, Kelt swung a powerful fist right into her right tit. Hitting below the nipple, it didn't touch the needles, merely bouncing both boobs as it wobbled and jiggled in unison from the skewer while a short pitched scream came out of her hood with no problems. Delivering another strike to the other side, the noise coming from her was guttural and pained, loud and miserable. This is what Kelt needed, a true release, venting his own building violence.

A near-whispered "good girl'' came from the brother before he settled into a violent rhythm of punches. With her legs busy keeping her ass from being impaled on a pole, her arms high above her head, her large motherly breasts bared to the brother. Both plump mounds were presented perfectly for him to abuse. He keenly watched the pristine ivory color of her underbelly change as time went on, bruised with ugly fist-sized splotches as her entire bosom lost the pink of life at a snail's pace from the blood trickling out from the skewer points. Kelt wasn't afraid, he'd be done long before serious issues arose.

Right now Kelt was just focused on using his sister's breasts as punching bags. And he was just getting started. After a long time of jacking off and venting frustrations onto his sister's helpless body, he stopped. Breathing hard and rubbing his hands, knuckles showing only a fraction of the pain they inflicted upon the softly sobbing form of his sister, trapped in the compromising position and sat atop a thick pole. He wished she could see the smile on his face, a weight lifted on his heart. It would return, but in this moment he passed his pain to her.

His broad hands gently cupped her rubber coated face, feeling the shudders of misery through it. A gentle stroking of his thumb over the shiny surface, he leaned forward to hug his sobbing sister. She stilled, the touch comforting her tortured nerves. Tekla did what little she could to push her head into his touch, cherishing the contact that contrasted her treatment. His hands left, and picked up the switch again. This time her ass and legs were the target.

-

Kelt dragged her body through the house, yanking her up the stairs by her cuffed wrists. She shuddered and cried, but was too weak to do anything else besides let out ugly crying under her latex hood. The breathing pipe was removed, now her jaws were forced open with a wide ring-gag, letting her openly sob and choke on her spit as she slid over the floor. Her breasts looked terrible, new lines of red-splotched gauze hiding the fierce bruises. Her legs were now bound together, a belt around her thighs as well.

The golden sergal pulled her to the bedroom, the sun setting outside the large living room windows as he dragged her by her hands, pregnant body bound and limp. Upon reaching the destination he threw her forward, her quaking body shivering on the hard-wood. He gave her back a few good kicks, watching her tense with fresh cries. Grabbing the mane of fluff around her neck, he yanked her up to a kneeling position. Just to slap her face before throwing her onto the bed. Squirming with agony, Kelt unlatched her hands and then tied each one to a bedpost with a long rope. He made sure her distraught, gagged face would be crotch level when he lay down. Climbing over her featureless face, nothing but a mouth that gently sobbed, Kelt got into bed.

Dropping his crotch over her skull, his burgeoning cock had no trouble going into the held-open slot in her mask. Before he was fully hard, he pulled the covers over them and began to piss. Feeling the panic in a newly flailing tongue trying to control the flow, Kelt smiled atop soft pillows as her miserable cries were interrupted with sputtering gulps. When she was noisily swallowing more than whimpering, fully overwhelmed with the task of not drowning in piss, Kelt moved his hands to splay out near hers. After his heavy bladder was finally empty, and his dick was ready to fuck this fresh warm hole it found itself in, Kelt hummed.

He knew she likely wouldn't hear any words he said, but felt they needed saying. "Thanks for an amazing day.'' The masculine sergal began rocking his hips, gently facefucking the garbled-crying sister. "Good night, bitch. Sleep well.'' Spoke the brother as his tip began pushing into her throat on every rolling thrust. Once he settled into a rhythm where she had no time to cry, too busy gagging on cock, balls slapping to her chin, Kelt moved his hands atop her bound ones. With the creaking bed and wet facefucking continuing long into the night, he intertwined his fingers with hers the moment their palms touched. This would be one of his best nights of sleep since their first night in this new home. Their home.

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