It was always a treat to be allowed on the bed. Tekla knew the harsh cold of the wooden floor well, the basement’s concrete surface even more. It was not uncommon to sleep on them, to be denied her rightful spot with her master under the sheets, tending to him as they slept. The chill and isolation made sure that getting to stay under the covers in order to rim her brother all night was a privilege that could be easily taken away. But there were many uses for the bed besides sleeping, one occurring in this moment. 

Less of a nap, and more of a simple break, Kelt was positioned close to his sister, the twin sergals showing prime physiques for their edges of the spectrum. Kelt was a fine display of handsomeness and masculinity, while Tekla displayed prime assets showing every biological tag for an experienced breeder. Huge milky tits, wide hips, slender in all the right places with softness everywhere else. All with an ass that still made Kelt stop and stare from time to time. He knelt over her, sitting on her hips as his hands rest upon her perfect body, taking it in, feeling it, unable to ever get enough of his slave’s beauty. 

Hidden away, he was the only one to know of her existence, and he made the most of it. She was everything to him, the perfect object and possession. A remarkable fucktoy, a diligent servant, an excellent breeder, and a capable toilet. But most importantly was her role as a torture toy. For Kelt to inflict pain and agony upon her, in progressively creative ways now that they had their own secluded home in the mountains. Much of her time was spent in the basement, nothing less than a dungeon, and one that had precision machined restraints and implements specifically tuned to her proportions. 

She suffered everything from being his punching bag, to getting locked to the floor while bent over backwards and getting her tits stabbed as she was randomly electrocuted while an industrial milker ripped out her unending and heavy flow of milk. Kelt made sure to empty her regularly and painfully, mentioning her suffering makes the milk taste sweeter. There would be no shortage, the golden sergal’s production refined after years of breeding and pregnancy, the same process that shaped her body with constant hormones. Serving as Kelt’s dedicated baby factory since they were fourteen, the moment she was able to conceive, she had been heavy with child every moment she could. None of these children were alive today, most not even alive the day after they were born. Before this luxurious mansion, she was kept in a forgotten maintenance tunnel under their home city.

Leading to an abandoned factory, it was deserted and spacious enough, power still running through the cables with no destination. It split and twisted, likely carrying electricity, water, and steam to various municipal buildings still operational. Kelt would often use the miles of decrepit tunnels to sneak into the linked hospital’s old access ways to get his medical supplies, needed to keep his sister stable after some of their more destructive activities. He took a shine to that care, fixing her body, restoring her flesh. It set in motion a desire for his career path, the man now running a decently prosperous pharmaceutical conglomerate.

It was only with that job was he able to move them to a real home, a place that could actually sustain additional life produced by his own breeder. There had only been one birth in this new home so far, a miraculous set of twins. Kelt took it as a bit of a symbol, the children being a product of twins already, being the first ones to experience life in this mansion. He had taken them once they were born, and Tekla had never seen them since, assuming the worst. She knew not to speak out of line, to waste breath with words when she could be sucking or licking her brother, or screaming in pain.

But she had to know. It had been a month since she gave birth, she needed closure. Averting her eyes, she gently spoke as Kelt twisted her nipples harshly while idly abusing her large breasts, making her grimace as the words came. “Mast- ah! …Master? May I ask something?” He yanked her tits around, appreciating the jiggle and the softness, reaching back to harshly slap them before nodding. Taking a breath and trying to push above the stinging settling into her breast, Tekla took the risk. “Where… where are our children?”

The hands mangling her tits paused, Kelt’s lungs exhaling but not refilling. He leaned back, latching claws back on her nipples, pulling them as his back straightened. Eyeing her face that was responding to the discomforting touch, Kelt only smiled. “I’m surprised you waited so long to ask, whore. They are alive and well, in fact I was waiting until you inquired about them before ‘introducing’ them.”

Tekla had to blink, teeth bared as her nips ached, breasts pulled up taut by her brother’s sharp claws. “T-That’s… W-Why? Why didn’t you…” She tapered off, remembering her speaking rules.

But Kelt surprised her by answering. “Because I have spent these years training you to be my submissive little bitch. That your holes exist for me to use, that your body belongs to me and I can make it hurt however I want. That your stomach is reserved for digesting my shit and piss, that you’re the only toilet I will ever use. Roles, tasks, jobs, the understanding that you do as I say, and that your happiness comes from my satisfaction.” He notched his head higher, slowly adding rotational torque to her grabbed nipples. 

As they were gently twisted more and more, and the feminine sergal’s face reflecting the pain of added pressure, Kelt sighed happily at her. “You are perfect. But that does not mean you are perfected. An aspect of your life, of being the object I need, is that blind submission is not always best. I require a toy with some amount of initiative, able to be proactive and intelligent with your tasks. A level of independence from me as well, I cannot be using you every day of every year. You know the rules, but I do not want you to be afraid of ones that haven’t yet been spoken. Inquire, inspect, infer, you may be an object, but not a mindless one. Understand?”

Tekla was a little busy fighting the urge to whimper and writhe from her tits getting twisted, but she let the words sink in, giving a measured nod. Forcing herself to smile back at her master, she had tears welling her in eyes just before Kelt abruptly let her tits go, the heavy swells slapping back down to her chest. Kelt moved a bit, reaching for a pile of items on the nightstand. “Good. Now, we’ll conduct proper introductions after your daily breeding session.” He returned to hold an oversized ball-gag, designed expressly to not fit comfortably in her jaws, the bright red rubber slowly descending into her mouth as she obediently opened it before latching it behind her ears and around her muzzle.

The next item was a clear plastic bag, which Kelt lovingly slid down her head and smoothed out around her angular face. A quick snap of a rubber band and the thin sack was sealed over her skull, the material clinging to her fur as her gag squeaked a bit from her biting down on it. Eyes closed, breathing becoming measured with effort to conserve oxygen, Tekla waited until the warm hand of her brother caressed her plastic-smothered cheek. Opening hers to meet his eyes, they shared a moment as Kelt spoke, counting in his head already. “Enjoy this fuck while you can, cunt. Nothing but anal once you’re knocked up again.”

He didn’t even need to tell her to spread her legs.

—

They were beautiful. Gorgeous, immaculate, perfect. The twin newborns were hideous, like most fresh babies are, but Tekla could see no flaws in them. Their near-month of age had reduced the raw fleshiness of them, their bodies cleaned up and placed on heated blankets. Those blankets were in dog kennels of course, but that was already more than Tekla expected from her brother, knowing he never had any intention for their children other than how best to use them up.

Shaky steps forward, and she fell to her knees, permanently naked busty body wobbling with her momentum, about to reach forward and scoop them up. Pausing, welling eyes looked back at her brother’s for permission. Receiving a small nod, she exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, rocking forward to pick up her offspring and hold them to her bosom as ecstatic sobs filled her. A touch she would always be fulfilled by, a warmth she treasured and shared. Her constantly denied motherly instinct kicked in fully as she merely held her children with delight.

To make the moment even greater to her tortured mind and body, was Kelt kneeling down beside her and merely wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She knew he felt emotions, far more than he wanted to let show, filled with hatred and pain of his own. Tekla had her own demons, ones kept at bay with the constant pain Kelt inflicted, an anchor to reality and the present, stopping her from slipping into the hellish past. She understood the reason of his torture, why he enjoyed harming her, why he needed to vent just like she needed to hurt, even if the pain was still overbearing, and her fear towards him genuine.

These moments were rare, the times of emotions overpowering the life of lies Kelt built to keep them sane. He had once thought that all these potential moments had all been done back in the tunnel, that there was no need for further heart-to-hearts after their roles had been decided. And Kelt very much so disliked being proven wrong, even if he would never deny it. His touch was light, caring more for the sister than the disposable meat she held. But he understood that this was an important moment for her, and he couldn’t help but feel some of her own joy wash into him.

How strange to stare at the very things he hated, cradled in the arms of the one thing he loved more than anything. He managed to hide this inner conflict well in his voice. “You are welcome to care for them. They are yours for the foreseeable future, it is high time I compensated you for all the children in the tunnels.”

As if she wasn’t already crying, a shocked look was given to her master. “Master? You mean… they’re…”

He squeezed her shoulder before her thoughts became too hopeful. “No. They will meet the fate you know. But I do not want that to happen for a while. Years, even. Nothing compared to the grand scheme of a life, but hopefully long enough to satisfy you.”

Ears wilting just a touch the sister sighed before her smile returned, glad to have time at all. “If I may ask… why?”

“They will be much more fun when they are older, more durable, malleable. I am merely letting them ripen, but there is no reason you can’t enjoy that time. I cannot give an exact date or age when I will start truly using them, it depends on their development, but I know you have at least four years.” In a shock to the already wondrously distraught mother, Kelt leaned down to kiss her forehead. “That being said, while you are free- no, encouraged to treat them well during their growth. I want them to remain somewhat ‘innocent’ for when I destroy it, but basic servitude will be required. I expect them to be capable of pleasuring me as soon as possible, but I’ll be there to teach them with you.”

Tekla was still beside words, merely holding her children, feeling a warmth against her she needed so badly. “Thank you, master. Thank you for this opportunity! I… I’ll train them well! I’ll get started on preparing them for when you rape them right away!” She exclaimed with tears of joy clouding her vision, eager to show her master this was a good choice, that she would do her duty well, in hopes of him doing this again.

But as she moved to start inspecting the newborn’s holes, Kelt’s palm on her shoulder squeezed for a moment. “Let’s… just enjoy the moment… I’m glad you’re such an eager cunt, but in a schedule of years, a few minutes can slip by easily.”

Shaking harder, Tekla only began sobbing louder, smiling through her shudders as she fell back to lean against her brother’s chest while she embraced her children with all the love in the world.

—

“I will tolerate this for only three more weeks, toilet.” Kelt said strongly, staring at his buxom sister sitting on the bed, cradling the two infants. She had a baby-bottle to one’s lips, though instead of milk sloshing around inside, there was a suspiciously yellow fluid. The masculine sergal’s arms were crossed. “They cannot be fed by bottle past that point. From then on, I will be pissing down their throats, and it’s not my fault what happens to them if they can’t handle me.”

Weary eyes stared up at her brother, her master. “W-What do you want me to do?” Tekla asked, quiet, tired.

He turned, glancing back as he left, “Prepare them, whore. Be the mother you wanted to be.”

—

“I-I don’t know how, o-or what, I-I can’t, master! How do I prepare them? They don’t even like your pee in the bottle, I can’t teach a four-month old to chug!” Tekla cried, kneeling, begging on the floor at her master’s paws. Between sentences she bent down farther, big tits spreading over the floor while she applied generous licks to the toes of her brother in pleading.

He lifted one, revealing the pads of his articulated footpaws for her to worship as he sat on the couch. “Listen up then, bitch. And consider this a failure of your duties, expect punishment.” His tone halted, interrupted by a hiss as he latched his dexterous toes around her skull. “Stop avoiding licking under my claws! You live off my shit, some dirt won’t hurt you, fucking cunt.” Settling back as the wet noises of her worship resumed, along with teary sniffles, Kelt dropped his head to rest on a fist as he watched his sister with icy eyes. 

“Think back to your own training, dumb slut. Experience is the key. Chugging a glass or bottle of piss is nothing like having to keep up with me blasting it down your throat. That you even thought of that as ‘training’ my new toys is going to leave your ass redder than the sun tonight. No, you need to give them experience, do what I will do, but controlled. Safeguards in place.”

Tekla only took the barest time away from slurping Kelt’s sole to speak. “H-How? I-I can’t do what you do…”

Kelt rolled his silver eyes, golden pelt nearly bristling. “God, you worthless fucking cunt. Of course you can. You can pee, can’t you? Just for that, come up here so I can punch your tits. You’re getting the spiked dildo tonight.”

—

Her heart was about to beat out of her chest, a dreadful chill in her gut, guilt, fear, regret, every negative emotion coursing through her. Tekla sat on their bed, the two children beside her. They were still mostly innocent, hands reaching up to grab adult fingertips, giggling and squeaking. Even though Kelt nursed them on his cock instead of her breasts, there was no immediate indication of how fucked these children were.

The curvaceous sister let herself lean back on the pillows, breathing shallowly, rapidly. A glance down her own body, past her whipped and bruised breasts, down to her loose, drooling slit. Then a glance at her children, eyes squeezing shut as she picked on up. She brought it to her crotch, the mother’s legs spread over the towel she rested upon. The little one was so precious, reaching out in newborn curiosity and awe. Then its vision was her hoodless pussy. With shaky fingers, Tekla reached down to grip her child’s chin, thumb and index finger pushing in the baby’s cheeks to force the mouth open.

It still giggled, eyes bright and sparkly. Then her other hand tentatively rest on her slit, index and middle finger parting to land on either side of her exposed clit. Sliding down just a bit, she spread her folds, revealing herself to the child. Struggling not to hyperventilate from guilt, she gently brought the kit’s mouth to her urethra, and did her best to relax.

—

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ Tekla repeated to herself, crying and sobbing as she forced the newborn’s skull against her vulva. Wet chokes and infantile cries sounded, then paused, gurgling before gasping as the child fought to breathe over the flood of motherly urine. Then the stream resumed, as the cycle repeated.

—

“Master, please-! Just… be gentle, please, I don’t want-“ Tekla’s voice was hoarse, clearly having been crying for some time. She sat in fear, frozen in complete submission, held fast by her own conditioning. All the busty golden sergal could do was watch as Kelt took one of their newborns, the male, and pressed those chubby baby lips to his sheath. Raising her hand, she did her best to beg as a specially made harness was applied to the child’s head, a patch of simple leather on the back of the skull, clipping to the belts on Kelt’s thighs to make sure that tiny skull wasn’t budging.

The clicks and snaps of his preparation carried more certainty than her words, the motherly sister stumbling over what to say, terrified her child wouldn’t survive the bladder soon to be flooding the baby boy’s mouth. Too scared that she would lose an offspring so soon, or that its death would be the result of her lacking preparation. Kelt merely kept his eyes locked to hers, icy glare stoic as he clipped his crying child face to his sheath. When there was no going back, the harness fully locked, Tekla lost all words and broke into sobs.

She cried, deeply and honestly, in ways that Kelt had rarely ever seen even with the torture he applies to her. He stepped closer to the kneeling slave as she shuddered with ugly bawling, the noise only quieting as a harsh slap echoed around the area. Tekla’s face remained off to the side, staring blankly as she figured out the burning on her check was in the shape of a palm. A palm she knew well.

Then her brother’s face sank down into her vision, the man crouching, letting the baby dangle between his legs unsupported besides for the crotch-harness. “What are you?” He asked, calmly, forcefully.

He repeated it louder when the voluptuous sister began whimpering again, startling her to an answer. “Y-Your t-toilet, master!”

“What else?” Was his cold reply.

“Y-Your fucktoy…” The stare from the masculine sergal told her she didn’t have the right answer yet. “Y-Your breeder? Paw-washer? Seat? P-Paintoy? S-Slave?” As she rattled more off, her conviction faded under the powerful silver eyes burning into her own. Then a glimpse into the past, a reminder of the answer from the last time he asked. “I-I’m… perfect.”

This time, Kelt smirked. “Close. You are… mine. And I don’t use things that aren’t perfect. I gave you a duty, and like every other I gave, you did it well.” Kelt’s smile grew, less sinister, and closer to endearing he had ever been. “Listen, slut.”

She did, paying attention. Tekla grew so focused on her master’s question, she didn’t realize her child’s crying stopped. There was only airy, guttural, choking swallows. The same she heard as she ‘trained’ her children for the last few weeks. Kelt was pissing. He had started while she stammered around, not caring to delay the release of his bladder. He would not be denied his child’s throat, using it as a piss-tube was his right. Tekla was frozen as she made the realization, heard the gaggy gulps. Her eyes flew to the back of her child’s head, the leather holding it tight to her brother’s sheath. Tiny newborn limbs squirming, bopping Kelt’s strong thighs as he crouched and let his urine-chugging infant dangle freely.

“Y-You’re…” Tekla whispered, before Kelt’s hand reached to caress her chin.

“I’m pissing, cunt. Right down your baby boy’s little neck. He’s struggling so much, but he’s doing it. You did it, pet. Well done.” His fingers softly scratched her muzzle, his own angular snout craning down to gently kiss the shocked breeder. Pulling his lips away, he was delighted in the confused, yet willing look of submission. “Now. I came here to use my toilet. Our baby is handling one half of the job.”

The masculine sergal stood, the writhing baby attached to his groin swinging slightly as he then turned around to present his round ass. Lifting his tail and sending a hand back to grab his soft cheek and pull it apart to reveal the round, pink hole; Kelt looked back at his sister. “So, how about you get that pretty face of yours on my asshole so I can feed you? It’s your favorite, hot gas and fresh shit.”

Tekla stared for a moment, the degrading invitation standing, Kelt’s tailhole staring her in the face as it winked and gently puffed with leaking air. The sister deflated, strength fading from her body as she slumped where she knelt. Tearing her eyes away, she cast them to the floor as her ears folded back with a faint sigh. Shuffling forwards, she kept her gaze down as she raised her hands to plant on her brother’s asscheeks, holding them apart when his spreading hand lifted away. It came back down to rest on her own hand, a gentle touch. Another weary sigh, and the sister closed her eyes before pushing her muzzle into Kelt’s waiting ass. After all, she is his toilet.

Her nose slid through the round sides of his bottom, his globes rubbing either side of her wedge-like snout as she pushed into them. A fleshy muzzle of her master’s butt surrounded her, the pungent scent of his hole hitting her immediately and only growing worse as her nose nearly pushed right into his anus.

Kelt’s hand over hers gave a proud and tender squeeze as he spoke. “That’s it. You’re my toilet. This is where you belong.” His other hand moved to plant on the back of her head, gently applying force to keep her snout right against his hole, moving her those slight adjustments to firmly press her nostrils into the creased, fleshly patch. “As usual, your first course is ‘aromatic’.”

A pause after he spoke, the girl able to feel him tense through the pucker mashed against her nostrils. Then it slowly pried open, a crackling noise before a whoosh as her senses took a dive into repugnance. Kelt’s words were calm, almost alluring, speaking like he would to a pet. “Deep breaths, that’s it. Take it all in.” 

Tekla did her best to breathe through it as her brother held her airways right against the source of venting gas. She could feel the airy bubbles being forced through the hole, squeezing right up her sinuses. Her nose was buried right in the middle of the mess, her nostrils embedded just past the rim of her brother's asshole. Her eyes watering and nose crinkled, she had a hard time holding her breath as Kelt kept pushing those bubbles out.

Kelt must have felt her struggle, because he squeezed her hand again encouragingly. With a gentle push, the female forced herself to breathe deeply and relax, letting the burning gas flow into her lungs. Kelt spoke with a satisfied edge in his words. “Ahhhh, there you go. Keep breathing, cunt. In through the nose, right down your sinuses. Deep breaths. Feel that warm air fill up your lungs.” 

With that, the first vile burst of bowel-air was over, Tekla coughing out of her mouth after it was all said and done. The hand on her head loosened, a bit the brother moving his hips a bit, shifting his ass over her face as he found a new position for her. This time the womanly sister found her mouth firmly held to his pucker, eyes watering as they opened.

“Okay, bitch, you’re doing good. I want you to swallow this next one, don’t breathe it. It’s going to turn into shit before you know it.” She began to get light headed while he spoke, her eyes beginning to twitch and roll back as her head allowed itself to be positioned by her master’s strong hand. “Open a little wider, slut. I’m going to be pushing it.” 

—

“I want you to pick one, and name it.” Kelt said, saying in bed, holding both children in his hands. The infants were cradled along his arms, eyes closed and napping. Tekla lifted her head, loudly gagging as her brother’s cock slid out of her throat, the sister’s face a mess of spit and cum matched only by Kelt’s groin. She coughed, wet and loudly. “P-Pick?”

“Mhm.” Was all Kelt said, his eyes not even looking at his slave. Instead, they were locked to the innocent faces of the babies, an almost gentle expression on the usually cold man. Though it would do Tekla good to realize the look was of curiosity and creativity, over care. He spoke without looking at her. “There are two. One male, one female. To put it simply, I am indecisive. So you get to choose one.”

“W-What happens to that one?”

“The one you choose will remain the same.” Kelt said simply.

“What about the other?” Tekla asked with a throat-fucked raw voice. “A-Are you going to… to kill them?”

“That will happen to both, eventually. But no, the one not chosen will become my doll. Do not worry, just choose. Both will still be in your immediate care besides for their ‘feeding’ and general training.”

“T-Then… the boy.”

Smiling anew, teeth sharp, Kelt rocked the little girl in his arm. “And so this one becomes the doll. What shall you name our son?”

Tekla’s eyes widened, looking up at her master from under his cock. “I-I get to…”

Kelt bobbed his length, causing it to smack against her muzzle. “I said that earlier, pay better attention, cunt.”

Ears raising and staying perked despite the usual derogatory name, Tekla felt her heart flutter. To have a child in her arms for more than a week was already a dream come true to the constantly denied mother. But to name one? To truly make it a part of their family? She had longed for this moment so much she never knew her heart needed it. But names were difficult things. Strong, identity-forming, almost permanent. And she could only truly think of two, her own name, unspoken for years. And Kelt. But a third snuck up, a name both siblings shared.

And Tekla wanted her boy to be part of the family. “Mazarin.”

Kelt blinked, angular head notching a touch higher as he appraised the choice. “Hmm. That shall do. Though keep in mind, later on I might be calling him by whatever role he is assigned. You may always call him by his given name, however.”

Like that, Tekla was crying again, unable to stop the smile spreading on her face-fucked visage.

Her brother could only smile back at her. “If you’re not talking, your throat should be wrapped around my cock.”

—

Kelt hadn’t moved with such urgency in a long while, dashing forward with a genuine snarl. As Tekla gasped and nearly fell back, raising her hands, Kelt latched onto his target. Deft, clawed fingers secured around his child’s skull, ripping the mewling kit’s face off his sister’s bountiful teat. Sputters of milk came from the newborn’s mouth, dribbles pouring from Tekla’s nipple as Kelt tossed the child to the pillows farther up the bed. His eyes were solid, fierce, teeth shown and glinting with a lip turned up in anger.

“You whore.” Kelt spat out, “You ungrateful fucking sow. Your milk is mine, and mine alone. Those fucking whelps don’t deserve anything but my cum and piss, do you understand me? You should be fucking grateful that I even bother buying formula to mix it with.” He reached out, causing Tekla to gasp in pain as his claws dug into her soft breast with an iron grip. Her milk spurted as the flesh compressed in his grasp, coating his palm in ivory fluid.

“Yes Master…” Tekla mewled, not knowing what else to say as her brother grabbed her other breast roughly. There was no tenderness here, in this moment she was nothing more than an object; a thing that he owned and used however he pleased. A small whimper escaped her lips as Kelt squeezed her tit with a white-knuckled grip. Her body shuddered, and her breath hitched as he pinched her nipple painfully, twisting it. The pain was enough to bring tears to her eyes and stung as he squeezed her nipple harder; claws making the flesh bleed as he squeezed. Beads of blood spread through her ivory belly fur, making her cry out softly.

Kelt released his grip on her breast, letting it sag once more before turning away and grabbing a handful of his sister's hair. She didn't fight him as he pulled her to her feet, dragging her by the neck all the while. He shoved her against the wall, his breath hot against her ear, whispering to Tekla. 

"There's two ways this can go. Someone has to pay for stealing my milk from you. Either you can accept it was not yours to give and submit yourself for punishment, or I can teach the baby a lesson of how this household works. Which do you want?" Kelt asked, cocking his head towards her offspring crying on the bed.

Tekla shuddered, shoved to the wall, hands raised in front of herself for a moment. And then she made her choice, "M-Me!" She stammered out, almost going limp, "h-hurt me, just... not the baby."

Kelt gave an amused huff. "Then we'll be torturing those tits of yours, cunt. Basement, march." The sergal turned, pulling Tekla after him and into the hallway. He walked down the hallway to the right, heading for the stairs, Tekla walking behind him in silence. Tekla had no idea what was going to happen to them in the basement other than the focus would be on her breasts. A fitting punishment theme, she supposed.

He led Tekla through the house, heading towards the basement door. As soon as he reached it, Tekla heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. Kelt pushed the door open and then grabbed her roughly by the arm. His fingers dug into her arm with painful force, and Tekla felt the bruises forming there once again. The basement was dimly lit, until the flicking and harsh brightness of florescent lights clicked on. She was not a stranger to the cold concrete walls of the basement, eyes going instantly locking to the familiar cold steel of Kelt's equipment.

He led her to a spot, and began taking things out of one of the many utility cabinets. First thing was an absolutely gigantic dildo, the size almost akin to her arm. It thunked against the closest wall, held with a suction cup as its immense length and girth bobbed gently in the air as Kelt got more things. "Get your ass all the way down that thing. No lube." He said with an annoyed huff.

Tekla did so, her eyes glued to the huge dildo in front of her. Sighing with sad determination, she turned around and stepped back to bring the wall-mounted shaft to her round bottom. Grimacing, she lowered herself slowly down the massive phallus to where it kissed her anus, her body tensing up in anticipation and fear at the size and depth of the tool. Her tail curled behind her, wrapping tight around her thighs as she reached behind her to grab the gigantic toy and hold it steady while she applied force to get the grippy, unlubed tip past her rim.

Not noticing that her brother was standing in front of her and waiting, she looked up just in time to see him pull his arm back. "Oh for fuck's sake! Hurry it up!" Kelt spat out, slamming a fist into Tekla's gut with a sharp whap. Face twisting in pain, the power shoved her hips back, causing the silicone shaft to break into her ass. The head popped past her entrance, making her silently scream in pain, the flesh surrounding the large girth of the head stretching her insides painfully.

"I... I'm trying..." She choked out through gritted teeth, unable to breathe with the fiery agony of the punch and the toy splitting her tailhole open. Tears poured down her face, the girl just trying to get air into her lungs again.

Kelt sighed. "Then do it! I want your cheeks on that dildo's base, you ungrateful cunt!" He snapped with annoyance, giving her a swift backhand to the back of the head. She felt the force behind the blow, her head ringing with the sting of contact. Her face turned bright red as he spoke. "If I had wanted to do this slowly, then I would have been gentle." He added, reaching forward and grabbing her hips tightly, pushing her deeper onto the massive rubber dildo.

Her breath caught in her throat as the masculine sergal forced her onto the thick shaft, the head stretching her anus even more, drawing out a long scream from the sheer amount of discomfort and pain while she descended. He kept pushing and thrusting until the entire length of the shaft was inside her ass, her belly bulging with the obscene shape of the faux cock. A few moments later, Kelt stepped back, giving Tekla the chance to catch her breath and get used to the size.

The girl took several long gulps of air, trying to keep herself together for the time being. "It's... it's in... all the way." Tekla sobbed softly, her voice shaky with discomfort, openly crying.

Kelt scoffed. "Get used to it. You're not getting off of it for a long time. Now get your hands behind your back." He ordered with a growl in his voice. The sergal sister didn't have the heart to argue, instead doing as he demanded. She felt him wrap an arm-binder around her limbs, locking her arms together behind her back. Her chest began heaving up and down in deep gasps as she tried to take her next breath.

Kelt began his next procedure now that his sister was impaled on the dildo and her arms were out of commission in the binder. Snapping on rubber medical gloves, Kelt pulled over a little cart with an assortment of suture needles and wire. Making a show of deliberating which one to get, he chose the biggest gauge. The larger the gauge of the needle, the more force and pressure was put on the tissues when the suture is pushed through, and the bigger the wound can be. He picked the biggest one he could find, a size 15, and began prepping his supplies.

Tekla's eyes went wide at the sight of the needle, the size seeming intimidating enough but then to add the thought of having something so thick jammed in her tits just made her skin crawl. She shifted her weight on her feet, squeezing her eyes shut as she blocked out the pain from the dildo rearranging her guts. Kelt brought the needle to her nipple without much fanfare. Aiming just behind it, he pushed the sharp instrument in through the side of her areola. There was no blood this time, just a sick feeling in her chest.

"Hh..." Tekla grunted softly, her voice strained from her own efforts. She kept her head bowed, looking away from the sergal. Kelt continued to feed the needle deeper, until it protruded out the other side of her areola, effectively acting as a deep areola piercing. The sergal stepped back, giving Tekla space to look down at what he did. A whine of pain was all she could say, tears leaking down her face once again. The sensation of having something forced through the breast tissue was not pleasant; the pain being amplified by the fact that this needle was just smaller than her nipples.

Satisfied, Kelt stepped back up to pull the needle through. The suture line secure to it fed through the passage in her breast tissue, a string hanging out of her tit. Tekla scrunched her eyes shut again as he tied the two ends together, Kelt pulling a weight out.

"Hold still." Kelt said with annoyance, using the suture loop to tie the weight to her breast. All of this was to get the most painful nipple clamp possible, one that wouldn't slip off with the weight tied to it. But since her nipples weren't actually being used, Kelt went ahead and clamped some spiked clothes-pin like devices to her exposed nipple. The sharp pain in her chest brought tears to her eyes once more, her face growing hot. "Good." Kelt muttered, giving his sister's un-abused tit a harsh slap as the other drooped low from the weight tugging it down.

Then it was time to repeat the process, Tekla’s sobs ringing through the space. Another tunnel tug into her intact breast, another cord run behind her nipple, another 8-pound weight bringing it down with not an ounce of comfort. When he was done, she was a squirming, miserable mess. Forced to stand, body practically held up with the leg-sized dildo bumping her belly out as she stood balls-deep on it. Tits hanging low with the torture of weights pulling them, sharp clamps digging into the nipples regardless of how the weights were strung up in her flesh.

The only thing left was her mouth, open, slack in pain. Eyes nearly distant, barely glazed, Tekla was still very conscious and aware. But pain was nothing new from her brother’s hands. Kelt took up the remaining space of her vision, head lolling forward limply, her own stretched tits taking up half her vision. “Open wide.” Kelt said, his enjoyment influencing his tone. A weak motion split her angular snout open, jaw falling limp. It was good enough for Kelt as his sister’s gentle sobs continued to spew from her.

Hefting the 18 inches of silicone horsecock in his hands, Kelt made short work of cramming it down her throat. There wasn’t much resistance, as her neck was brutally plugged, guttural hacks and wet gags following every inch shoved down. Then the faux balls kissed her chin, it was fully lodged where it would rest. Kelt then walked away, not saying a word. With the strain around her, there wasn’t much stopping her from passing out now that the sister was on her own.

—

When Tekla was next conscious, she felt both weightless and heavy. As she gasped, she found her jaws immobile, able to feel the snug latex and leather hood blocking out her senses. A familiar touch to her skull. Also familiar was the burn of ropes digging into her fur and skin, her gasp shifting to a pained whine as everything became evident. She had a rope harness on and was suspended from the ceiling. This was no normal harness though, quite minimal actually. It looped around her neck, her shoulders, and finally, the rope rubbed tight around the base of her breasts. 

One single reinforced line held her to the ceiling, tied to the neck line, shoulder line, and breast line. By the nature of it, most of her weight was applied to her breasts. To which the points where the line was fed through her nipples still seared, but it was thumb-tack lined clamps piercing the sensitive nubs that made her shudder now. The motion revealed that these clamps were tugging her nipples high thanks to being tied to the suspension line as well. She squirmed, not accomplishing much as her arms were in the binder and her ankles were strapped to her thighs.

Tekla couldn’t see much, head leaning back from her breasts being the suspension point. But she felt the hands suddenly on her hips, the familiar fingers of her brother. Then pain, a split second given to register that he just slammed his knee against her in the pussy before yelping with the fierce impact.

“There we go, nice and awake now. There’s my slut.” Kelt said, back to his usual tone. None of the true emotion of anger and genuine jealousy from his sister’s milk being taken by anyone but him. While she was busy recovering her breath from getting slammed in the groin, she felt him hug her suspended form. His head landed on her soft middle, rubbing against it. “You’re not supposed to pass out like that.”

“S-Sorry…” Tekla tried to say, coming out hoarse and gurgling as her body endured so much stress. 

Kelt’s retort wasn’t out of malice, if anything the tenderness of his touches against her saying it was pure love. Almost worried. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have left you unattended. I’m responsible for my property, and what I did was irresponsible.” His hands roamed her tied body, moving to grasp her juicy ass as he continued to nuzzle her cushy middle. He wasn’t going to mention he found her screaming in the throes of a flashback if she didn’t remember it.

“I was going to whip your tits and pussy, but perhaps it would be best if I just took you to bed. I need to feel you.” Kelt said, relishing his sister’s warmth against him.

“N-No…” Tekla groaned, the ache of being held up by her tied-off breasts constant in her mind. “Do… what you want… I’m yours…”

Kelt’s intimate groping paused, before he loudly huffed. “Whore. I would be happy to just have you ride me instead. Are you committing to further pain?”

“A-Anything for you, master.” Tekla whimpered, subtle notes of panic in her breathing. “I-I need to be p-punished.”

“Very well.” Kelt said, a touch of somberness in his tone. “You know I…” Tekla could hear the hesitation in his voice, before a steeling sigh. “I… appreciate that a cunt like you knows what is required of her.” An itch in her heart told her that wasn’t what he planned on saying when he opened his mouth. But then her heart started screaming as the searing lashes of a cat-o-nine-tails whipped against her stretched-up tits’ underside.