“Congratulations, cunt. I will allow you to breastfeed our kits.” Kelt said with a punctual fist-grip of her tit. Tekla flinched from the pain, a natural reaction as a grimace spread over the golden beauty’s features when Kelt’s white-knuckled grip dug claws deep into the sensitive swells. “With stipulations, however.” He let already-bruised flesh go, sliding his hand up to caress her face as he tested the tightness of her dildo-gag and the other various belts trapping her into the chair.

Kelt stood tall, wearing a crisp clean-suit adorned with a dark rubber apron. He moved to stand behind the restrained woman, sending his hands to tenderly dance through the fur on her cheeks as she struggled to breathe around the gargantuan dildo locked into her neck. 

“Do you understand, slut?” Kelt asked, prompting the girl to nod. “Good.” His hands drifted back to her large breasts, their amazing size a gift of genetics and hormones. Being constantly pregnant since fourteen will do that to a girl, Kelt supposed. And they got even bigger when laden with her copious milk production.

“Since you deemed your breasts and milk to be so low enough to feed those pathetic whelps those weeks ago, they must be unfit for me. So, I am de-consecrating your right breast.” The sentence ended as Kelt took a harsh grip of the indicated half of her chest, causing another whine to muffle out of Tekla’s dildo-stuffed throat. “I have always loved your beauty, whore. Your appearance is a gift I still can’t get enough of. An ass so perfect to spank and whip, so soft to slam my hips to. I don’t even have the words to express how I feel about your tits. I have strived, through all that we have done, to leave that beauty intact, free of mar or flaw by my hands.”

The next words were nearly whispered right into her ears. “You are… immaculate. I cannot describe how gorgeous you are. I can stare all I want, and to this day, I cannot look enough. As if fresh snowfall, I dare not take a step into it. I will scratch the surface, but never enough to expose the ground beneath.” Kelt released the boob he was crushing, causing Tekla to slump forward what little she could in relief. He walked back to her front, eyes wandering, true to his word. Then he turned and left her vision, walking to some other part of the basement. The rattling squeaks of a cart rolling over sounded, and Kelt returned to her vision with a curious looking device atop the mobile tray’s surface.

“But now, that breast is no longer sacred. No longer protected.” He wheeled the cart close, the surface able to go over Tekla’s knees as she sat in the chair. The tray was perfectly to the height of her bust, close enough that the cool metal bumped her aching tit. Tekla was able to see the device better. It gave the impression of a waffle iron, but instead of a surface of grids, there was a cavity worryingly similar in size to her hefty breast. Lining the otherwise smooth, matte black metal were a few lines of text embossed onto it, and a few strange shapes. 

Tekla’s breath hitched. This was a brand. She turned to look at Kelt as he plugged a cord into one of the extension bricks hanging from the ceiling. He grinned, in a way that made her afraid. She normally loved his smile, even when it was sadistic. It meant she had made him happy, the reason she lived for. This… was something else. A cruel creativity let out to play, a torturer finally able to use their new toy. He saw her fear, and the smile faltered. Not by much, but he looked away from her wide eyes after a moment of realizing his effect on her.

“You are afraid. Not worried, but terrified. It has been awhile since I’ve seen you like that. I will break the act, for your sake, cunt. Everything I am about to do to you, should be reversible. I want this to be something you live with while those mewling fuckmeats are still around, but only while they’re around.”

She still looked at him with a silent ’should’?

Kelt chuckled, knowing her. Her obedience was founded upon trust. “Should. It is possible to undo, but I cannot do it at this moment. It will be something I prepare for during the duration of our children’s little lives.” Kelt then grabbed a wireframe cage off the tray, it being a rough mold of Tekla’s right breast. She noticed as he set it into the heating iron, it was suspended away from the hot surfaces, giving about an inch of buffer. She also noticed the wireframe had long gaps where the embossed text would make contact with her flesh.

The motherly sister couldn’t help but breathe a bit more rapidly as Kelt uncaringly gripped her nipple, and dragged the breast into the wireframe. She could feel the heat radiating into the fur already, and the iron wasn’t even closed. She closed her eyes, waiting for Kelt to slam it down. But it didn’t happen, instead, an electric buzzing was heard as Kelt held a fur-trimmer in his hand. A quick swipe and a long rectangle of white underbelly fur fell off her mammary, lining up with the hot-looking text.

Now Tekla squeezed her eyes shut, and she was right to. Kelt pulled the upper half of the iron down, and with a click, it locked. But still, Tekla didn’t feel contact with her flesh. She didn’t risk opening her eyes, but she would see her brother pacing around the breast-holding device with a keen eye, ensuring her teat was lined up properly. Then with a simple push of a button and some mechanical noises, contact was made. There was that split second where Tekla could hear the hiss of her skin burning before her nerves had a chance to report the pain.

Next was the guttural, high scream that seemed to come out without much issue despite a large horsecock strapped to her face. Kelt appraised his device as Tekla thrashed, the restraints doing their job of making sure she didn’t move enough to dislodge her breast. The device wasn’t as simple as it appeared. Instead of the breast coming into contact with the brand, the brands moved to make contact with the breast. The words pushed forwards through the wireframe gap to sear their message on the pink skin missing its usual silken fur. 

While at the same time, an iron that was rounded pushed forwards with the biohazard symbol. Aligned such that the little dot in the middle of it was her nipple, as the rest of the symbol blazed into her large areola. Then Kelt’s mental timer went off, and he cued the device to retract, and lifted the lid. A wafting wave of smoke lifted up, Kelt inhaling deeply the scent of his sister’s burned tit-flesh. He inspected the work. The biohazard symbol burned in perfectly, filling up the entire radius of her areola with her nipple being unscathed. 

Then a little tilt to his head allowed him to read the words laid onto the side of her mammary. “CONTAMINATED - For livestock use only.” He looked back to his sister, slumped in the chair as she fought through the pain, tears dripping to the table-cart’s surface with metallic plinks. “We’re not done yet, cunt. But you’ve earned some rest.”

—

Tekla padded down the ornately rustic walls of her home, this glorious lodge mansion atop a gentle mountain. Open windows set along the way let in a cool breeze and the cheerful chirps of birds, while a glance out them gave a sight of verdant ridges with the depth of miles. And not another structure in sight. The woman was proud to live here, able to understand that this was a magnificent place to call home, and that many could only dream of staying here. 

She treated the domicile with respect, eagerly completing the duties of upkeep assigned by her brother. She knew the place inside and out at this point, everything about it. Even its taste after Kelt started making her mop the floors with her tongue. Then dust with her tongue. Then clean the windows with her tongue. In fact, now that she thought about it, he had been steadily taking away her cleaning tools. Regardless, she walked through the grandiose lodge, not a large place, but certainly not small. She stepped down the stairs, hand gliding over the railing she licked clean, to step a paw on the floor she licked, and walked past the bar she also licked spotless.

Tekla was beginning to notice a theme. He had been slowly shifting her routine to this oral focus so gradually she didn’t even consider that over half her duties were licking things. And by the time he added a second thing, she was already used to doing the first one. To think this all started as a punishment. A simple smile played on the pretty woman’s face. It was certainly like Kelt to realize a one-off thing was actually one of his favorite things he didn’t know about.

Still, she didn’t know much, but surely saliva wasn’t the most… sterile of substances. She wondered how far he would go as she walked to the heavy metal door that led to the basement. Opening that barrier was like stepping into another building entirely. Gone were the scraped-wood floors, gone the timber-frame stylings and rustic colors. Down here it was only gray concrete and silver metal, industrially prim, kept clear of rust. With her articulated foot paws stepping down the short stairs into the main room, where her custom-designed torture-table lay in the center with cabinets and devices along the walls, two other doors were there.

One, a sterile looking medical suite. In case things didn’t go to plan, and for various checkups and pregnancy related services. All performed by her brother himself. The other was the actual torture dungeon. The busty golden babe didn’t even want to think of that room, only in there once and only for the room's sewage-pump function. She shivered as she looked at the closed door to her brother’s ‘personal study’. Even he decreed that she did not belong in there. But Tekla knew it was only a matter of time before one of the children wound up in there.

Speaking of, she saw her son strapped down to a saddle-horse in an all-fours position as a fuck-machine she was well acquainted with rammed a dildo up his young ass. Course, the thing was maybe two fingers big, but considering the child wasn’t even a year old yet, it was impressive. The mother felt a pain at watching her barely-a-year old son get anally violated, watching the purple silicon slam into those infant cheeks as it shrieked and cried. As Tekla walked past with a somber look at the child, she was grateful to see the Kelt at least wasn’t using a spiked dildo. She knew he liked them, and appreciated the restraint while subconsciously reaching down to rub her jiggly butt in sympathetic remembrance.

Tekla approached her brother as he stood at his worktable, various bits and bobs of upcoming torture implements and devices on it as he fiddled with something. She had long changed her posture as per his instruction, walking with a near permanent strut and an arch to her back, always poised to show off her body in the best light possible. She watched his ear flick, a silent greeting as he finished the task at hand after a glance to make sure she was standing like the slut she was. After a moment of Tekla waiting and trying to block out her son’s illiterate cries for her help, he set his hands on the table and stepped away. 

A long schlep followed as he dragged his sizable cock out of her daughter’s face, strapped to the underside of the table as a cock-warmer, and almost certainly a working-hours urinal. Infantile coughs and gags came before her own shrill noises were added to the symphony. In all honesty, Tekla was impressed that the baby girl didn’t suffocate. 

Kelt spun to face her, nude besides for a lab coat or something. Clothing wasn’t her specialty, having not worn anything since she was twelve and not having interacted with another person besides her brother and numerous children since then either. “Ah, there’s my toilet. The kids are becoming quite the avid piss drinkers. They must like it as much as you do.”

“Or they’re trying not to drown, master.” Tekla said. 

Kelt only smiled at her little outburst. He knew the kids were a sensitive topic. She loved them, cared for them, and wanted to watch them flourish and live. He wanted to kill them. “The reason doesn’t matter as long as they chug piss. The point is, they’ve gotten a taste for it. Step forward, present your breasts.”

Tekla did so, strutting a foot forward, clasping hands behind her back and standing stiff with that arch to her back that pushed her tits out. Kelt gripped her right boob, handing it with his usual lack of care, leading to further pain with the freshly-healed brands on it. “The brands healed nicely, didn’t they.”

Tekla nodded, but folded her ears. “Question, master?”

“Speak, cunt.”

“What does it say?”

Kelt raised a brow. “Just because you’re a toilet doesn’t mean you can’t read.”

The girl cast her eyes away. “Master, I can read… but I haven’t read new things since… a long time ago. There are a few words that I don’t know what they mean.”

The golden sergal’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his sister, recognizing that he forgot to finish teaching her to read. He took her when they were twelve, and he didn’t exactly homeschool her in the tunnels he kept her in. “Hmm. Remind me about this later, I’ll have to rectify that. We’ll need reading comprehension tools for the fuckmeat anyways, I can get you some too. But to answer your question, it reads ‘contaminated - for livestock use only’. Contaminated means something like infected, poisoned.”

Kelt almost missed a beat as he saw his sister’s eyes light up at the lesson with a near excited “oh!” coming from her. For a moment, the current situation faded away, just Tekla with her brother.

“While livestock means living stock, with stock being similar to property. It usually refers to farm animals. In this case, I am referring to those fuckmeat kids you pumped out.” It was a cordial lesson, spoken with calm directness and perfectly casual tone. He was merely explaining the concept. “In totality, that breast’s milk will be- albeit not literally- poisoned and only the kits can drink from it.” His hand dropped the branded breast to sink his fingers into the soft and pliant flesh of her other one. “While this one will remain pure for me to drink milk out of.”

“Master?” Tekla asked, a bit confused. “If you’re not going to actually poison it, then… what will the ‘poison’ be?”

“The thing those little toilets deserve. Piss.” Kelt said with a smug, matter-of-fact voice.

The shapely sister was still perplexed. “But… It makes milk. If they’re going to be breastfeeding like you promised, it’ll still be milk. There’s no place to mix the pee in.”

That smug look on Kelt’s face grew as he merely sidestepped to reveal the thing he was working on. It was a set of three large, mechanical rings set onto a metal plate, with the familiar shape of her wireframe breast mold resting in the space through them. The end ring had a half ring coming out on the front, as if the full ring was rotated down 90 degrees, crossing over where her nipple would be in reference to the wireframe. That wasn’t the issue. It was that the rings were each two flat rings of metal with three needles sandwiched between them. And there were tubes running to the needles that led to a familiar micro-pump also attached to the base plate. That front half-ring also had a needle that clearly would sink right into her nipple.

Kelt waved a hand at it, proud of his smithing. “The answer is in the label. Your breast is contaminated, dear cunt. The piss will be injected into it for the little fuckers to drink.”

Tekla felt dizzy. She always hated needles. Was the floor always in front of her?

—

When she awoke, Tekla was back in the chair she was in when her tit was branded, restraints and all. She shuddered awake, unconsciously struggling against the restraints. Frantically looking around until she heard her brother’s voice. “I’ll have to tighten those, it seems.” Not missing a beat, Kelt paced around the metal chair, pulling the leather straps tighter as she looked around in a panic. “Mmph!” Tekla tried to say, only for the foot of faux horsecock in her throat to make its presence known.

“HMMMG!” Tekla tried to scream, wiggling the parts of her that weren’t tied down, the verbal attempt quickly devolving to haggard gagging.

“Oh relax. You’ll be fine. I’ve given you shots before, and you haven’t passed out at seeing those needles.” His face popped into her frantic and pleading view as he tightened an ankle cuff. “Seriously, you falling over like that actually got me worried. I’ve spent the last hour checking your blood pressure and sugar, you’re as healthy as ever.”

“HMM! HM MM! Hm mmmhmhm…” Tekla noises faded to ugly crying, shaking her head. Kelt just stood with his arms crossed. 

“You’re not getting out of this, cunt. I can tell you’re scared of it, but only doing it will make that fear go away. Just because I say I can maim that tit of yours, doesn’t mean I will.”

Only cock-muffled sobs responded to the masculine sergal.

“Don’t make me get the eye-openers. You’re going to watch. And you’re going to see it’s not as bad as you think.”

A desperate shake to her head brought a jingle to her neck restraint and a gag from the dick lodged in her throat.

Kelt just gave an annoyed snarl. “Fine. God damnit, dumb fucking cunt, the one thing I was excited for this week, gotta make a big deal out of it…” Kelt said, voice fading as he walked away, the metallic shriek of one of the other doors opening being heard behind her. Then his footsteps returned as Kelt held a disposable syringe already loaded and uncapped. He knelt by the frightened bombshell of a sister, and reached between her legs to stab the needle into her unhooded clit.

A pitched whimper from the girl as the plunger depressed, the sensation causing Tekla to try and wiggle her hips away as she groaned. “Settle the fuck down slut. It’s just adrenaline. I don’t want you passing out again.” Then Kelt was standing, leaning over her, staring into her terrified pupils. Then he slapped her against the cheek, tears flinging away as she blinked, not moving her head back as she looked at the wall. A frightened noise came as her brother grabbed her muzzle and forced her to look into his icy eyes.

“Look at me, cunt. You. Will. Be. Fine. I have thought about this a lot more than you have. Do you understand how many weeks of planning and safety testing go into these things? I even formulated an antibiotic especially for your system to make sure this doesn’t cause some kind of infection. I even sterilized the fucking piss, which removed the best part of it, because I want you to be okay after this.” He pulled her head in, hugging her, whispering into her ear.

“You are my bitch. Every. Single. Wound, that I inflict, I have planned for, and planned for it to go wrong. There is an entire crash cart of antitoxins and shit ready to go if this causes majorly adverse reactions. I fucking make drugs for a living. I own an entire fucking pharmaceutical company. This is what I do. I think, I plan, I prepare, and I worry. All about you. You ungrateful cunt.”

He leaned back, glaring at her. “So you’re going to sit here. And you’re going to watch your tit get pumped full of piss, and then you’re going to let those cocksleeves you call children feed on your contaminated milk. Understand?”

Tekla was frozen beside nervous shaking in her limbs, gagged, locked in place, eyes wide and ears folded down. She nodded. She watched her brother instantly relax, letting out a sigh as his head rolled back with a relieved expression. A much calmer statement followed; “Good.” He gestured to the roller cart holding the device she saw last. “I’ve already built a second version while you were under for your little unscheduled health check. It’s both safer and more effective. It’ll even apply little band-aids when the needles are pulled out.”

He didn’t mention how that was mostly to prevent leakage of the teat’s new filling, but the point still stood. The buxom sister strapped to the chair was still very much afraid, but that gut-dropping chill of sickening fear had faded. Replaced with the regular anxiety of impending torture. Kelt then applied a strongly gentle pet to her head, before roughly grabbing her branded tit. “You’re strong. Remember that.”

He pulled the condemned breast taught, bringing a fresh squeak from the girl. A similar sound came as he rolled the cart that bit closer, bringing it over her knees and into position. A firm grip placed her tit in the wireframe mold like before, but now that mold was in the reach of the various needle rings. Tekla began hyperventilating again. “Breathe. Don’t make me get the breath-control mask.”

To her credit, she did try, but the effect was barely noticeable. She was too busy staring at the needles now scant centimeters away from her tit. Including the change that she barely noticed, instead of the front horizontal ring bearing one needle for the nipple, there was now a cluster of smaller ones in a circle around it, now to inject her areola. Of all the changes he must have made to the new version, why did it have to be more needles? Didn’t matter that they were much shorter.

Simply shaking her head as a last message, Kelt returned to her vision, blotting out most of it with his face. He stood beside her, leaning over, hands on her shoulders. She could still see the concerningly large tank of piss on the cart. “I’m going to do it on the count of three, okay?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Tekla nodded. 

“No, you have to watch.” Kelt gave her face tap, not exactly a smack, but not gentle either. “Watch, and overcome.” Her fear returned to previous heights but her eyes remained starkly open. She knew further resistance would just make things messy. “I’m going to start counting now.” Like that her pulse skyrocketed.

“One.”

Then her breast felt a considerable number of pricks. “MMMG!” She tried to thrash to no avail, only stopping as Kelt’s claws latched around her dildo-bulged neck.

“Stop. Feel. It isn’t so bad, right? I’ve used your tits as pincushions for a long time, you’re just getting worked up over the idea, not the reality.” As her ragged breathing slowed down, his words began to ring true. This was nothing worse than she had felt many times before. The circle of shorter pricks into her areola was new and as uncomfortable as expected, but nothing was excruciating. Before she realized the pump was active.

In an instant as that mechanical hum droned out, she tensed as her entire mammary felt the spreading sensation of a shot. That sore, numb feeling of something besides your flesh being inside you. Webbing out from the various injection points, able to feel how deep they were, being right in the center of her breast. And worse, those in her areola began to create a concentrated area of cold ache right behind her nipple. Then the tingles and slight burning set in, a gradual climb into discomfort. In the end, it wasn’t the most painful or most disgusting thing she had been through.

But it still felt like it. Watching the container of yellow slowly drain, feeling the progress of her flesh being injected, the faintest of swelling becoming visible as the fluid found its new home. It was such a purely unnatural sensation and sight that the dildo gag was the one thing stopping her from throwing up. Her tit was already swollen with milk, the two fluids no doubt mixing and likely into her blood. Thinking about what was happening was just as bad as the burning sensation slowly crawling through her mammary.

As she heaved, whined, and twitched, she still trusted her brother. So she watched. Watched the golden reservoir diminish, felt her breast be overcome with the burning itch under her skin, saw how her tit became noticeably rounder as more fluid entered the flesh. Every breath shifted her chest that minuscule amount to feel the unmoving pricks of the needles deep into her tissue, the feeling of pressure building at the injection site causing a fresh wave of nausea for the woman.

Tekla’s head slumped, a near-faint to at least get her to look away. Kelt’s hand caught it, resting on her cheek as he pushed her neck back upright. “Watch. Look at it. See all that piss get pumped right into your fat tit. Look how swollen it’s getting, cow. Just as if you went without a milking for a whole week. I’ve always wanted to see your tits a little bigger, and they’re already so huge.”

A fresh wave of instinctual struggle washed over her, but it did nothing besides irritate the needles embedded deep in her flesh, spewing their payload with mechanical determination. Being able to flick her gaze up to Kelt’s eyes was the only thing stopping her from losing herself to what was happening. She didn’t have a concept of ‘too far’ anymore, but her body sure did. Yet throughout the entire arduous process, every millimeter of the piss tank’s fill line falling, her brother was there. Watching her, holding her. Protecting her, like he always has. 

She just focused on her breathing, repeated all the instructions he gave her when she first became a paintoy. That duty was far worse than this in terms of raw suffering, she could do this. Just as her resolve steeled, her mind pushed above body, the electrical rumbling of the pump stopped. Tekla looked with wide eyes at the now empty reservoir on the device, before her gaze slowly flicked to her breast. It was definitely full just from a visual appraisal. Not inflated to the point of a cup size, but definitely noticeable compared to her normal one. If anything, it just looked… strained. The fur a little thinner thanks to the stretched skin, tauter; glimpses of the veins under the skin. 

She didn’t pass out when the needles retracted, sliding out of piss-infused deep tissue. But her awareness certainly left the picture. By the time she was present again, she was on their bed. Surrounded by soft sheets and the comforting scent of her sibling all around her, she could almost have forgotten what happened. But then she looked down, seeing a lopsided chest as a sore, burning ache knocked at her brain’s door. Hissing with a slight grimace, Tekla recognized that her throat was free and equally sore from the dildo that used to be locked into it.

Shaky hands raised to her visibly inflated tit, hefting it, a fresh wince folding her ears back as it almost felt like it sloshed. There wasn’t a direct pain per se, but a deep and potent irritant under her skin. She looked her swell over, seeing the little dots of bandaid’s placed on where the needles injected the waste into her. Three rows of three spots, dispersed with one on the center bordered by two on either side that were closer to the edges. And the large wad of gauze taped over her nipple, almost able to forget the biohazard symbol branded into her areola. 

She saw her fur was regrowing from where Kelt shaved it, the marked skin of her tit’s contamination label the only spot not getting a fresh coat. With wilted posture and slouched against a pillow, Tekla sat there in silence as she stared at her afflicted breast. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before footsteps sounded outside the spacious bedroom, the door opening to reveal Kelt’s nude form. He looked good, though Tekla’s benchmark for sexy was her brother alone.

He closed the door behind him, holding something, looking back at her. “Ah, you’ve snapped out of it.”

She blinked, trying to remember what happened after the needles pulled out. But she couldn’t. “D-Did I… relapse?”

Kelt shook his head. “No. You seemed to just be in a state of shock.”

“How long was I… out?”

The golden brother moved to sit on the bed, gesturing to the windows and the setting sun. “A good few hours. I used the time to do some more anal stretching with the kits, and gave them their meal-replacement supplements. They’re in the kennels for the night. I’ve found the boy’s progress to be slow, so I've fitted his restraints with a larger dildo.”

Tekla’s eyes lit up just with the mention of her children, hands falling to let her injected tit fall down to bring a wince as it settled to a rest on her chest. “The kits. Our kits. How are they?”

“Well enough. No injuries besides some anal bleeding and rope burns, but I’ve attended to anything that might post risk. I’ll be keeping their consumption of fecal matter to a minimum to build up tolerance as my engineering of their digestive biomes progresses. I’ve changed their liquid-feed to 30% urine, 50% custom baby formula, and 20% water.”

By all means, they were eating better than she was. Tekla smiled, feeling grateful that her children were spared the full brunt of their father’s waste products. Instead, those mostly belonged to her stomach, atop a daily feeding-tube and the occasional hydration IV. She didn’t fully understand what Kelt was doing to them, or what a ‘biome’ was, but she trusted him. She trusted him to hurt her, and eventually… hurt them. It was not something she enjoyed, but her dedication to Kelt was absolute.

She was pulled from her dumbly-smiling stupor as Kelt ran a hand over her leg, squeezing her thigh. She noticed him staring at her overly round right breast. “Mmm. Look at that piss tank. Brimming with yellow milk. The areola bandages should be able to come off tomorrow, if you wish to feed them sooner than later. Those were quite shallow injections to soak the subcutaneous tissue behind your nipple.”

Tekla shivered, remembering the stabbing sensations. “M-Master?”

“Hmm?”

She did her best pleading face. “Can you please…. Not talk about that?”

Kelt fully clambered atop the bed, moving to straddle her legs, cock poking out his sheath as his balls rested in the silken valley of her thighs. “About what? How I injected [AMOUNT] of my piss into your mammary glands? How half of your rack is swollen and aching, branded and wounded, all to be a makeshift piss tank to feed our children with?” Tekla already understood the rejection as Kelt gave a simple little smile. “I will talk as I please, cunt. And I will do as I please.”

Like that, he laid himself down on her, a weight and presence most would find oppressive and suffocating. Tekla found it comforting, cherishing the intimacy even if it spawned from cementing her place beneath him. His hands carried him down as his belly pressed to her groin, and once his weight became her burden, his hands moved to roughly play with her juicy big tits. Squeezing, rubbing, pinching and pulling, those milk-swollen mounds became his stress-toys, their shape never static in his grasp.

Tekla whimpered and moaned, her breasts as sensitive as any other part of her pleasure-denied body. Every noise she made was laced with discomfort or pain, Kelt’s strong grip purposefully used as much force as possible. Plus, one of the breasts he harshly kneaded was inflated with piss currently, with freshly-healed brands and puncture wounds. Having the feeling of overbearing fluid inside was not entirely new with her insane milk production, but now that half of her chest had an acrid burning sensation from the golden waste fluid mixing with her white nectar.

Kelt stared at her with that usual stoic face, eyes sharp and attentive, drinking in every grimace and wince his manhandling of her abused tits created. Every time her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth bared, Kelt kept whatever motion caused the pain, drawing it out, making it worse. His fist crushed her unblemished breast, milky dribbles sputtering from the nip as his other fingers caressed the biohazard symbol burned into her areola on the contaminated tit.

Then the proverbial gloves dropped, the masculine sergal snagging both nips in his hands and pulling the breast taut as he twisted his arms with enough torque to show a spiral in her soft boobs as they were wrung out. Tekla was clearly not enjoying it, tears welling in her eyes as he held the painful pose, breathing turning ragged and agonized. Kelt’s response was to pull her twisted tits out farther, further sending Tekla’s head back with a pained whine as her teeth bared in a hurt scowl.

Her brother watched her suffer, taking a moment to breathe himself before he swapped to place both hands on her untainted tit. He did the same thing again, though this time he used both hands to twist the milk-filled boob outwards, and then inwards. He pulled hard, stretching the skin of her breast, and then letting it snap back as he twisted it. It felt like someone was squeezing her breast with a vice, the pain more intense than just the usual pressure.

But the torture wasn’t over yet. Kelt moved to the other side, and started pulling that tit as well. Tekla cried out, shuddering as she was subjected to a double-hand twisting, before he let go, leaving her tender flesh to flop back. She bit her lip, holding back another cry, trying to stay quiet.

She tried to say something, or even scream, but her voice caught in her throat as Kelt moved to his feet. Her eyes went wide, as he picked up the heavy leather strap hanging on the wall. One of many tools kept in the bedroom. Tekla gasped, shivering as he brought it down across her sore tits, the first strike hard enough to make her lock up in pain. She winced, body going rigid as Kelt brought the strap down again, and again, and again. The blows weren't holding anything back, each one pelting Tekla's abused tits. Each impact made her wince, cry out, or moan in pain.

It didn't stop after a few hits either. Kelt kept beating her breasts with the strap, striking them with a cruel smile. Tekla was reduced to a trembling mess, her legs shaking as she resisted the urge to clutch at her tits, trying to hold herself together. Every strike made her already-abused breasts throb and ache, not enough to just have them be squeezed, and pulled, and torn apart, the sensitive flesh imparting every ounce of this new torture.

Kelt paused, giving her a few moments to recover. Then he applied one final overpowered hit that sent her entire swollen chest quaking, strong enough to break the dam; the motherly sister wailing out in a sobbing cry as she shuddered, her tears flowing freely from her eyes. She couldn't hold back anymore, and her cries rang through the room, her brother only smirking as he watched her chest-induced suffering.

Kelt stopped to say a simple thing. "Ah, look at you. So pretty when you cry. And your milk tastes so much better when you’re in pain."

The golden brother returned to laying atop his slave sister, head coming to rest at her chest. With his ever-present overpowered grip, he latched his fingers into her uncontaminated breast. Then with the same ferocity he abused those big udders with, he sent his mouth to her nipple with a stinging bite. Kelt began to drink from her tit, sucking and slurping on her nipple as Tekla squirmed in pain, her back arching as compounding sensations turned her brain haywire.

Kelt bit her harder, teeth sinking into her flesh and almost drawing blood as he ravenously drained the milk from her tortured teat. The entire breast was nothing but a mass of pain after that abuse, but both the warm mouth on her nipple and the relief of pressure from her milk-filled bosom was near nirvana. This is how Kelt trained her to not just tolerate the pain, but enjoy it in certain cases.

Tekla was helpless, unable to do anything but let her brother drink from her. Kelt had wrapped his lips around her nipple and was sucking so hard he was almost biting it off. Every forceful swallow was making Tekla shudder, every time his lips pulled away leaving a trail of wetness on her areola. One hand moved to her other breast, the one still being used as a piss tank, and he began to resume the painful kneading as he continued to drink the pure reserves.

Kelt's mouth left her nipple alone for a moment, allowing his tongue to wander around her bruised breast, admonishing it with licks and little kisses. "Your milk tastes better when your udders are bruised. Look better too, cunt"

Tekla shivered, unable to deny the truth in his words. Her tits were a mess, but they looked great, all swollen and splotched with fresh bruising and broken skin. She couldn't help but wince at the thought, remembering how much he had done to her.

Her brother's mouth returned to her nipple, sucking hungrily on her leaking breast. He was clearly enjoying the taste of her milk, and Tekla wasn't going to complain. She loved that he was enjoying it, even if she didn't.

Kelt was a cruel, sadistic pervert. He enjoyed pain, he enjoyed seeing her suffer, he enjoyed degrading her. And she knew it. She also knew that he loved her. In her mind, the two things were entirely contradictory, but she refused to let herself dwell on that. There was no point thinking about it, this was just her life. Kelt made her his, he took care of her and protected her. In return, he did whatever he wanted to her. Tekla just wanted to make him happy.

"Master... I don't think there's much milk left."

Kelt smiled, his eyes narrowing as he bit her nipple harder. Tekla whimpered, shaking as he sucked at her breast, taking everything he could. She shuddered, a moan escaping her throat as his teeth bit down. The pain was sharp, like a thousand needles stabbing into her tender flesh, and the sudden burst of stinging heat from her nipple was overwhelming. She writhed under her brother, her thick thighs clenching around his waist. She had to squeeze, she had to hold herself together, she couldn't afford to let go. She would not cum, she was not allowed to.

"M-Master..." Whined the sister, overcome with sensation. She never contemplated how sensitive her chest was, or how potent a mixture of pain and pleasure could end up being. He had trained her nerves to pull what little enjoyment from his abuse they could, and amplify it with the force of pain.

Kelt was content to just keep drinking, not giving her more than she could handle. He kept up the assault, his fingers still squeezing and twisting her abused tits, her piss-filled flesh burning as he drank deeply from her pure milk.

He stopped suddenly, his lips popping off her tit and licking her areola. Something that made Tekla moan and shudder, despite his white-knuckled vice-grip on her contaminated breast. His eyes were bright, his tail lashing behind him as he smirked at her. "As delicious as ever, cow. Your milk has no equal."

Tekla shivered, her body aching from the abuse. Her whole chest felt like it was on fire, the pain in her breasts was almost too much to bear. Yet he huffed with lidded eyes, feeling the welling sensation in her nethers, wanting and needing more. She groaned, holding her head as she tried to find a position where she didn't feel so much pain, tipping the scales to mostly pleasure.

Kelt simply laughed, moving to stand up. "Don't worry, cunt. We'll get to the fun part soon enough. I think it’s time for bed. Let's go take a shower together."

He took her hand, pulling her up with him. Tekla staggered, but managed to keep her balance, even if her legs were shaking. She followed her brother as he moved to the bathroom, and into the shower. She knew what was coming, and she shivered at the thought. It wasn’t a good shiver.

Kelt stepped in first, and Tekla followed behind him. She let him lead her, and Kelt wasted no time starting the water. Tekla stood there, shuddering as the hot spray hit her sore body and chest, washing away the pain and grime. She felt like she was on fire, every inch of her bruised and battered. But it felt good, the warmth of the water washing over her.

She knew that this was coming, but she was still nervous. "Ready, cunt? You know what happens in the shower."

Tekla nodded, keeping her eyes down as the steamy water cascaded around the both of them.

"No, I want you to tell me. Don't just nod." 

"I... I'm ready, master."

Kelt smiled, moving behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He was already hard, and she could feel it pressing against her ass. "Ready for what?"

Tekla did her best to keep the shaking out of her voice. "For you... you to punch me, master."

Kelt nodded, releasing her. “That’s right, cunt. Come here."

Kelt grabbed her soft body and spun it around so they were facing each other, his eyes drinking in the battered shape of her tits. Then he held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. Tekla swallowed, but obeyed, stepping into her brother's waiting arms. She was already sore and in pain, but that didn't stop her from feeling how hard he was, the tip of his cock pushing between her thighs and against her unused pussy. His arms descended around her holding her tight in a warm embrace under the water.

Then while still holding her, he pulled an arm back, and punched her in the gut. Tekla gasped, the breath knocked out of her, her entire body shuddering as she was hit.

Kelt smiled, his eyes alight with lust as he held her, keeping her from falling as she gasped for air. "Steady, cunt. I’ve got you. We’re not done yet."

He struck her again, this time in the stomach, and Tekla grunted, held against Kelt's chest as she sucked in a ragged breath. Kelt gave her a few moments to recover, then began striking her again. He started slow, hitting her a couple times, then giving her a moment to recover. Though this was the definition of abuse, Kelt made sure it was intimate. His arm never left her, holding her, securing her. Only his chest peeled off their soaked bodies for him to deliver a strong impact on her torso, returning to tightly hugging her and groping her thick ass as she caught her breath.

Tekla's breathing was shaky, her heart pounding in her chest as he continued to punch her. Each time he hit her gut, her stomach felt like it was being torn apart, her body quivering with every blow. There was no pleasure here, but her mind found solace. In being a punching bag, she let her brother vent, made him happy. There was no arousal, but her mind was more than content to accept this treatment.

"You're doing good, whore. Now it's time for some cuntbusting." Tekla shivered, feeling his hand reach down between her legs and touch her pussy. "Move your legs wider apart. Need enough room to knee your pussy."

Tekla did as she was told, spreading her legs as wide as she could, giving him plenty of room to swing his leg. She knew he'd enjoy it, but it didn't stop her from dreading the impending impact.

Still holding her close with an intimate touch, Kelt jerked his knee up and slammed it into her sex. Tekla cried out, gasping as her back arched and her chest heaved. Her hips buckled, and she gasped as her brother's knee dug into her. She could feel it send a shockwave up through her entire body, almost like her spine compacted from the hit.

"That's it, cunt. Take it." Kelt said through teeth clenched with ecstatic exertion.

Kelt slapped her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. Tekla bit her lip, shaking as he repeated the action and another loud slap was heard over the rushing water. Tekla tried to prepare for the next one, but no amount of bracing could stop the immediate lance of pain from getting kneed in the groin. Kelt's knee blasted her slit as if he just swung a baseball bat up between her legs, her pussy felt like it was being split in two.

"You fucking cunt... take it..."

The knee came again, and Tekla groaned, biting her lip as she held back the scream that wanted to escape. Her own legs gave out, but Kelt's continued embrace held her still as his claws latched onto her ass. She couldn't help but cry out, a low whimper escaping her throat as he dug his claws into her flesh.

He slapped her luscious ass again, and Tekla yelped as her brother let out a deep satisfied sigh right into her ear. If she wasn't wracked with pain from the continued beating, this moment would have been endearing. "This is where you belong. With me, in pain. Hurting, for me. This is what you're meant for.”

Tekla didn't say anything, simply shrieking as her brother's knee slammed into her pussy. The impact was intense, her body writhing against him as he used all his strength to stop her from falling. He held her tightly, letting her scream and cry and go weak. Then he repeated the motion, slamming his knee into her sex again.

"Whore," Kelt whispered in her ear, growling, getting into the act he was committing. "Your purpose. Your place. Your reason for existing. This is why you were created. To be fucked, abused, and put in your place. You are a toy. A fuck doll. A toilet. You are mine." This time, his sentence was not punctuated by a shattering impact to her pussy. Instead, he let her go, Tekla once more supported by her own shaky legs as she bawled in pain.

Kelt took a step back, taking a hand to caress her tear-stricken cheek as she ugly-cried. He was panting, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were bright, his tail lashing behind him as he smirked at her. Despite it all, despite her pain and suffering, seeing that moment of pure genuine joy in her brother's features made it worth it. But even she couldn't smile at this moment. She just cried, letting him hold her close as he waited for her to recover.

When enough time had passed, he stepped back in the spacious shower, then pointed down. "Sit down, back against the wall. Legs spread. Meat like you needs one good cunt-kick before we're done here." Tekla did as she was told, sinking to the floor and resting her back on the wet tile behind her. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she moved her shaky legs as far apart as they would go, articulated footpaws pressed to the shower's other walls. It wasn't easy, but she knew he'd wait. His voice returned then, "Spread those cunt-lips whore, I need a clear shot."

The sister moved sluggishly, fogged with pain. But with a great force of will, she reached down to her pussy. Hissing with a wince as her fingers made contact with the beat up labia, she used her fingers to spread her pussy open as much as she could handle. The entire time, Kelt watched, his eyes locked on her lewd display. When she was done, he nodded, then stepped closer. Then he kicked her open slit with all the force he could muster, the only positive being his lack of any kind of footwear.

Tekla screamed, a high pitched shriek that pierced through the shower's noise. She doubled over, holding her stomach as the pain shot through her body. Her brother laughed, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up. "That's what I'm talking about, cunt! That's how you know you're being treated right. You get hurt. You scream. You take it like a fucking whore. You don't beg me to stop, you don't whimper. You just take it. You take it all, like the perfect toy you are!"

Kelt then slammed his knee into her pussy again, and Tekla unleashed a hoarse, extreme cry. It was a loud, piercing sound, but not one that she thought would last long. Her body was used to this abuse, and her mind knew it too. She just needed to endure the pain, and eventually, it would end. No matter how much it hurts now, now matter how bruised or battered her pussy got, it would be okay. Kelt loved her, he took care of her. He loved hurting her. He loved degrading her. She just had to endure it.

Kelt gave her a few moments to recover, then yanked her close to slap her ass again. "What do you say?"

Tekla gasped, her breath coming out in a ragged gasp. "Th-! Th-th-thank yo-oo-hoo..." Tekla stammered out between ugly sobs of wretched pain, body at its limit. Then there was the warmth again, not of the shower, but her brother's body pressed to hers. This time it was a hug, a real hug.

A deep breath flowed past her ears as Kelt inhaled with a serenity she was proud to induce. “I think that's enough for today. You did well, as you always do. I couldn’t ask for a better possession than you. Thank you." He gave her soft ass a nice squeeze. "But don't forget that you still need to wash me, bitch."