The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Alan ogled the house. “This is the place?”

Alan, Russ, and Malcolm had driven to the hills where the rich people lived on winding streets named after Ivy League schools. The driveway to the house was longer than a football field. The house itself was like something from a reality television show—more mansion than house, really. The porch lights were warm and golden and welcoming.

Russ, the driver, nodded. “Yup.”

“It doesn’t look like a whorehouse,” said Alan.

From the back, Malcolm clapped Alan’s shoulder a little too firmly. “You been to a lot of whorehouses?”

Alan bristled. “It doesn’t look how I thought it would.”

They left the car and started up the brick patio. “Special kind of whorehouse,” said Russ. “Special kinds of whores.”

The doorbell rang fully, richly. A young man ushered them in to a warm and well-lit entryway. Alan took it in. Oak floor, lavender-painted walls on which hung paintings of shapes and lines and colors. Modern art? The crap the studio kids in high school liked. Whatever. Pictures of landscapes and fruit and naked women—that was art.

Alan sized up the man who let them in. Middling height; slender but muscled; short black hair; dark, large eyes. Expensive jeans and a blue polo and good-looking leather shoes. Rich kid, through and through. He was a few years younger than the three of them—eighteen, maybe. He didn’t look at all like he should work in a whorehouse. What kind of place was this?

“Okay,” said the young man. He sounded older than he looked. “Two hours, three of you. Two-forty.”

Russ handed over their cash. Alan winced inside. His share was a full day’s pay from his telemarketing job. This had better be the insane fuckfest Russ and Malcolm promised.

The young man counted and then pocketed the cash. From a granite-topped table he took a large ceramic bowl. “Phones.”

Russ and Malcolm set their phones in the bowl. Alan hesitated. “It’s fine,” said Russ. “We’ll get them back.”

The young man gestured to a pair of glass-grilled doors. “Usual place. You’ll have privacy.” He paused, then added: “No bruises.”

“Course not,” said Russ. “The RAM team wants to keep coming back.”

The RAM team: Russ, Alan, Malcolm. Russ had come up with that when they played high-school football. Alan thought it was funny when he was 15, but six years later it sounded douchy. Kind of like Russ.

The corners of the young man’s lips curled down. “Two hours.” And he walked off.

They passed through the doors into a large room. Tall ceilings. Three chandeliers. Purple wallpaper with white flowers and green tendrils. An enormous television mounted in the wall. Speakers everywhere, soft jazz flowing from them. A plush green carpet. A subtle, sweet scent in the air. Sliding glass doors leading to a garden out back.

Alan felt impoverished. Except for a church, he’d never been in a place that took so much money to make.

At the far end of the room was an enormous dark-green sofa. On it sat a girl and a woman. The girl wore a dark T-shirt and gray sweatpants and pink footies. She was curled up, knees pulled into her chest. The woman sat straight in a form-fitting red top and short black skirt and glossy-red high-heeled shoes. The girl regarded the men sullenly. The woman smiled brightly.

“Hi, boys,” said the woman. “You brought a friend this time.”

“Howdy,” said Russ. Malcolm nodded stiffly.

Alan began taking off his shoes. Malcolm hissed. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s a nice house. It’s only polite.”

Malcolm snorted. “It’s a whorehouse. Leave ’em on.”

“You’re sweet,” said the woman. She stood and started walking to them. “For thinking of—”

“Sit the fuck back down, cunt,” said Malcolm. The woman blanched and backed herself to the couch. The girl looked away at the wall.

Alan whispered, “What the fuck, man. She was being nice.”

“You have to show them who’s in charge.”

“We don’t have to be dicks.”

“Sure we do,” said Malcolm. “It turns them on. Trust me. Right, whore? Rough turns you on?”

The girl breathed sharply and planted her cheek on her knees. The woman smiled brittlely. “You know it, baby. Rougher the better.”

Alan thought she was not at all convincing.

Russ nudged Alan forward. “Go on. See what we’re paying for.”

Alan walked up. The woman gave him a broad smile, and he tried to give a reassuring smile back. He was going to be polite no matter what Malcolm said.

The woman was pretty, but older—maybe in her early 40s. Black hair, high cheekbones, large, green eyes made larger and greener by mascara and eyeliner. And also crow’s feet and the slightest sag around the jawline.

She took Alan’s hands in hers. Her fingernails seemed covered in several layers of deep, deep red. A jolt ran through him, and she sensed it. “First time?”

She smelled of subtle roses and lovely whiskey. “Yeah. Uh, at least, with—um. Well, like this. You know?”

She nodded, understanding. “That’s fine. It’ll be fun. You’ll be great. You’ll want to come back. Trust me.”

He glanced at the girl. “Go check her out,” the woman said. “She’s sweet. You’ll like her. You’ll see.”

The girl was curled up and looking away at the wall. Rocking, just a bit. All Alan could see was her hair, which was the same black as the woman’s, and her fingernails, which were pink but just as lovely.

“Hey,” Alan said.

The girl gripped herself tighter and rocked more. Alan looked at the woman for help. She put her arms around the girl. “Hey, baby. It’ll be fun. You know it.”

The girl just kept rocking.

“Clock is ticking,” said Russ. “Let’s get rolling.”

“I don’t think they’re into it,” said Alan. “The girl—”

The woman’s hand gripped Alan’s wrist. “She’s all right. You boys are so cute, she’s shy.”

Alan didn’t think the girl looked shy. She looked miserable.

Russ said, “Let’s prime the pump a little.” From his pocket he pulled out something long and dangly—a used condom, the open end tied off and the tip full of semen.

The woman’s gaze shot to what Russ was holding. She grabbed the girl’s head and aimed it at the condom. Alan finally got a good look at the girl. Maybe nineteen? Brilliant green eyes—large, beautiful, slightly bulgy, but not distractingly so. Full lips. Pale skin. No makeup. The girl didn’t need any. She was lovely, naturally.

But her eyes were red and watery, and her lips were pressed tight, and Alan’s heart fell. Maybe the woman was into it, but not the girl. Maybe they could make the girl leave and just have the woman.

But then the girl changed. Her gaze hardened, like the woman’s. Alan followed her line of sight. It led back to the condom in Russ’s hand.

“See?” said Russ. He held the condom out and swung it like bait. “Like pointer dogs. Right, ladies? Come get what you need.”

Girl and woman rose as one and started to walk over. “Not like that. On your knees.”

The girl winced and folded her arms. The woman knelt and touched the girl’s calf. Come on. We have to do this. The girl sighed and dropped to her knees. They started stumping forward.

“Not like that,” said Malcolm. “All fours. You’re our pets. It’s your feeding time.”

The girl put her head in her hands.

“Malcolm,” said Alan.

“They’re whores, Alan. This is what whores do. I promised you a freaky time, and you’re gonna get it.”

Alan glanced at Russ, who nodded. Don’t interfere.

“All fours,” said Russ, backing up Malcolm. “Or you don’t get anything. We’ll take back our money and leave.”

The woman dropped to all fours. The girl hid her head in her hands and shook her entire body from side to side. All of her did not want to do this.

“Guys—“ said Alan.

Russ walked to Alan. “This is just part of the game. It’s all pretend. This is how they make their money, and this is how we get some fun. Nobody’s hurt. You wanna get your wick dipped, right? Look at these girls.”

Alan looked. The woman looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled. Play along. Please. The girl still hid her face and shook back and forth.

Alan said, “The girl is just not into it.”

“She’ll get into it,” said Russ. “I’ve seen it. You won’t believe it.”

“I can help,” said the woman. “Please let me help her first.”

The girl breathed in deeply, then shuddered. She was about to cry.

“Fine,” Russ sighed. He tossed the condom at the woman. It spiraled in the air like a knife, and her hand shot up to catch it. “Don’t drink it all on the way to your daughter.”

“Daughter?” said Alan. Now he saw the resemblance: hair, cheekbones, eyes. Especially the eyes.

“Told you this’d be freaky,” said Russ. “Here. Just watch.”

The mother dangled the condom in front of her daughter’s face. The daughter stared at it through her fingers as if a shotgun were pointed at her face.

The woman untied the condom. She dipped in a finger and brought it to her daughter’s lips—

The girl plunged her mother’s finger into her mouth. Her cheeks collapsed as if she were drawing frozen custard through a straw. The mother smiled at the men. “She’ll be fine in a second.”

“Better be,” said Russ. “Or I’ll take that away. And all the fresh stuff inside us, too.”

The daughter’s sucking slackened, and her shoulders dropped. Mother caressed her daughter’s hair. The girl’s mouth opened and let her mother’s finger fall out. Yeah, she breathed.

The girl tilted back her head and opened her mouth. The mother raised the condom to her daughter’s lips, tipped up the reservoir, and let the contents spill out into the girl’s mouth.

“Jesus,” said Alan.

The mother squeezed the semen from the condom like it was a pastry frosting bag. The daughter closed her mouth and exhaled a blissful shudder. Alan kept looking for the girl to swallow, but she didn’t. Her tongue kept working the cum in her mouth as if it were saltwater taffy.

The woman said, “There you go, baby. Can mommy have a little—”

The girl shoved her mother to the floor and glared at her. Around the cum in her mouth she said, “Mine.”

Russ pulled out a second tied-up condom full of semen. “Daisy, you share, or you don’t get any more of this.”

Daisy glared, but she made the calculation: Share with mommy, get more cum. She leaned over and dropped a string of cum into her mother’s waiting mouth. Unlike Daisy, she didn’t savor it. She just swallowed it down. Then she sighed and shuddered just as Daisy had.

Malcolm slapped Alan’s back. “Told you. You’re in for a show.”

Daisy let one more string drop into her mother’s mouth. Alan marveled. Like a bird feeding a chick, except the roles were reversed.

The women started giggling. Daisy’s sullen withdrawal, the other’s brittle pose—both were gone. Instead, the girl and her mother were happy and content and at peace. They almost seemed drugged.

Russ said, “Go on. Kiss each other. You know you want to, right?” He lifted the condom. “For more of this, right?”

They nodded. Yes. Yes, we want to kiss each other. For more cum.

“Go on, then. Warm each other up.”

Mother and daughter kissed. And kissed. A deep, full, long kiss. There was no resistance. The cum had taken all that way.

“Get those clothes off,” said Malcolm.

“Don’t rush it,” said Russ. “We’ve got them for a couple hours.”

“If they’re ready, they’re naked. Clothes off, now.”

Daisy and her mother started to take off their own clothes. “No,” said Malcolm. “Take off each other’s clothes. Like horny lesbian sluts. Do it.”

Alan expected reluctance from Daisy and her mother, some hesitation. There was none. They pulled away from their deep kissing. First Daisy pulled off her mother’s shirt, revealing a black, lacy push-up bra. Then the mother tore off Daisy’s T-shirt. Daisy was braless, her round, young boobs and full, brown nipples happily exposed. They resumed kissing, giggling, as mother stroked Daisy’s boobs and Daisy began unclasping her mother’s bra.

“Leave the bra on,” said Malcolm. “Nobody wants to see those dried-up funbags.”

“But I want them,” pouted Daisy. She had a little-girl voice. “I wanna suck my mommy’s boobies.”

“Later,” said Russ. “Just get the rest off.”

Daisy pulled her mother’s skirt down to her ankles, revealing black lacy panties that matched the bra. Alan had never seen such fancy underwear, at least not in real life. Mother kicked off her red heels and then the skirt.

“Baby,” said Daisy’s mother, her voice a slur. “Mommy needs some booby.”

Daisy giggled. “Baby’s got booby right here, Mommy.” Daisy propped her chest over her mother’s face. Mother clamped her mouth around one of her daughter’s boobs and began sucking, hard. Daisy’s eyes fluttered, and she brought the side of her hand to her mother’s crotch. Mother groaned around a mouthful of tit and rubbed herself against Daisy’s hand.

“Jesus,” breathed Alan. “This is nuts.”

Russ chuckled. “See? Special kind of whorehouse.” He walked over to a mini-fridge. “Beers?”

The men took lite beers from a mini-fridge, and Russ retrieved a saucer from a cupboard. The men sat on the couch and watched.

Daisy had pulled aside the crotch of her mother’s underwear and was pistoning a glazed finger in and out of her pussy. Mother moaned throatily around Daisy’s tit. She was sucking so hard that Alan wondered if she’d leave a hickey or get a jaw cramp. It had to hurt Daisy, but the daughter was urging her on, Yeah, that’s a good slutty mommy, suck your baby’s tit you lezzie Mommy . . . .

Russ put the saucer on the carpet, then untied the condom and squeezed out the cum onto it. Then he finger-whistled so loud it hurt Alan’s ears. “Come n’ get it, girls.”

Daisy tore her tit from her mother’s maw and galloped up to the plate, boobs swaying. As she held back her hair and lowered her head to eat, Russ said, “Wait for Mommy.” Daisy pouted, but she did as she was told.

Daisy’s mother rolled up and crawled over, sidling up to the girl. Mother and daughter knelt on all fours, waiting for Russ’s next orders.

Russ stroked the mother’s hair. ”Tell me what you’ll do for this spunk, Donna.”

Donna. Alan hadn’t even considered the woman’s name. So far she’d just been the Mother.

“Anything,” breathed Donna. Her eyes darted to the white puddle on the plate, then back up to Russ. “I’ll do anything. Both of us will.”

“Really,” said Russ. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re pretending.”

“You know I’ll do anything. You’ve seen it. You’ve seen both of us—”

“Well, I know what you did last time. And the time before that. But I need to keep testing you, right? To see if there’s anything you won’t do. And if I find it, then I know there are some things you won’t do for cum. And then I’ll know you were pretending. Lying.”

“I’m not lying. I’ll do anything.”

Malcolm joined in. “You sound like a junkie, the way you talk about the stuff. Like some kind of addict.”

“We are,” said Daisy. “You know we are.”

“Junkies,” said Malcolm. He pointed at Donna. “You. Snort it. Snort that cum up. Get it in your sinuses and hold it there.”

Donna frowned. “What?”

Malcolm leaned in and grabbed Donna’s hair. Fear flickered in her eyes, but she snuffed it with a smile. He pushed her head roughly over the plate. “Snort.The.Fucking.Cum. If cum’s your drug, Mommy, then snort it.”

Donna paused only a moment. Then she dropped her head to the plate and Malcolm released her hair. First they didn’t hear anything. But then the snorting and burbling and gagging started.

Russ laughed and punched Malcolm’s arm. “Fuck, man.” Malcolm, enormously satisfied, gazed at the snorting woman at his feet.

Daisy whimpered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asked Malcolm.

“I need some too.” Her eyes were watering. “Please don’t let her take it all.”

“Well, go on, then” said Russ. “Try to get her to share.”

Daisy ducked down to the plate. “Mommy, please don’t snort up all the—”

Donna stiff-armed her daughter in the face, knocking her away. Ragged snorts and snuffles of cum kept gluttering up her nose into her head.

Daisy launched at her mother. “You bitch.” She shoved Donna from the plate and on to her back. Donna clambered back up, flat-eyed and feral, twin yellow rivers dangling off her nostrils and chin. Glaring with a fuck-you-bitch look, she used a finger and began stringing the cum into her mouth.

Daisy shrieked and tackled her mother. Donna’s head landed with a carpeted thump. Daisy crawled over her, pinned her mother by the hair, and lip-ate the cum off her face. Then she snaked her tongue up one of her mother’s nostrils, scooping out of her mother’s nose all the cum she could. Donna howled and seized Daisy’s nipples and twisted them so hard that her knuckles turned white. That did it. Daisy yowled and tore herself from her mother’s clutches and kick-scooted backward.

The women panted and eyed each other bitterly, if dazedly.

Russ clapped his hands, three times. “Play nice. girls. You’ll each get enough. Tell each other you’re sorry, now.”

“Fuck her,” spat Daisy, rubbing her breasts. “I was nice and she hit me.”

“No, fuck you, you ungrateful little slut,” said Donna. “You had almost all of the first batch. This one was mine.”

“But there was more in that second batch. And it was a lot fresher, I could tell. And it was going straight into your brain.”

“It can’t go into my brain, you idiot. It went into my sinuses. Then it would go down the back of my throat—”

“Shut UP,” Russ barked. The women fell silent. “Look at each other. Daisy, don’t be a bitch, and look at your mother. Good. Now. Say that you’re sorry, or you don’t get this.”

Russ stood and undid his jeans and pushed down the front of his underwear. Out swung his cock, balls hanging over his waistband.

“Oh God,” said Daisy. She wobbled and fell forward. “Mommy I’m so sorry.”

Donna had exhaled and whimpered. “Me too, baby. I love you and I’m so sorry. Let me make you happy, please, please.”

Alan noted that neither woman was looking at the other. And, midway through the apology, Donna had stopped speaking to Daisy and instead talking to Russ’s cock.

“Good girls,” said Russ. He nodded at the plate. “Look. There’s a little left. If the two of you can play nice, you can finish it off. Waste not, want not.”

Daisy and Donna padded to the plate and dropped their heads. From behind their hair came licking and giggling and muffled sounds of I love you, Mommy and I love you too, Baby.

Russ knelt and pet Daisy’s head. He said to Alan. “Told you.”

Alan nodded. This was the freakiest thing he’d ever seen.

“C’mon,” said Malcolm. “Let’s party. The cunts are ready.” He unzipped and brought out his cock. Alan was shyer than both of them, but at this point it didn’t matter. He unzipped, too.

Malcolm took the plate away and put it on the couch. The women sat up, their faces slack, their eyes heavy-lidded, breathing deeply, swaying lightly. Whatever cum did to them, it was taking full effect.

Russ said, “Daisy, get the rest of your clothes off. Wait, keep the booties on. They’re cute. Yeah, just like that. Okay, now all fours . . . right, great. Plant your face on the floor. Yeah. Get that ass up in the air. Atta girl.”

Russ knelt behind Daisy and audibly sunk two fingers deep into her vagina. Daisy squealed and jumped, then sighed and moaned and pushed her ass back to take Russ’s hand in farther. Russ grinned. “Just like a sow in heat.”

“You’d know,” said Malcolm. “Pigfucker.”

Russ ignored him and squished his fingers in and out of Daisy. She gasped and closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. When Russ asked, “You like, slut?,” Daisy just nodded and bit her lip some more.

Malcolm sat on the couch. “C’mere, ‘Mommy.’ I want that mouth of yours.” Donna padded up and popped Malcolm’s cock into her mouth. Malcolm kept talking. “Look at me. Right, yeah. Just like that. Uh-huh. Fuck, yes. Talk to me like you know I like. You know I make more cum when you talk that way.”

Donna smiled a huge, blissed out smile. “Slutty mommy loves your big, hard cock, Mister Malcolm,” she said. She rubbed it over her forehead and along her cheeks. Then she pressed it up under her nose and inhaled, deeply. “Ohhhh. Slutty mommy loves your cock. Needs your cock and cum, Mister Malcolm.”

“You want my cum?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft. “’ove it.”

Alan marveled. Donna seemed entirely authentic. Unless she was an incredible actress, she genuinely loved what she was doing and completely believed what she was saying.

Malcolm grabbed Donna’s hair so hard she cried out. “Then blow me, you stupid junkie bitch. Yeah. Yeah, just like that, all the way down your throat. Good slut. If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you some cum, you stupid fucking whore.”

“Alan,” said Russ, waving him over. Russ still had two fingers in Daisy, and now he’d snaked his thumb up her ass. Two fingers and a thumb, as if her rear were a bowling ball. With his other hand, he lifted Daisy’s head by her hair. Her mouth hung open in a dumb, happy smile. Moans escaped, inflected by the rough workings of Russ’s hand.

“C’mon, man,” said Russ. “Take her mouth. They’re totally into it.”

Alan looked closely for any sign of the miserable, reluctant girl he’d seen 10 minutes ago. Nothing. Whoever that Daisy was, she wasn’t here now. She was as happy and horny a female as he’d ever seen, either in person or on a screen.

Alan got on his knees in front of Daisy’s face. Russ let go of her hair. Daisy’s nose bapped against Alan’s cock, and she giggled. “Yummy,” she slurred, and took his cock into her head.

As Daisy blew Alan, Russ braced himself behind the girl and sank himself in. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he said. “Best pussy in town!” Russ thrust ferociously. The girl’s flesh rippled and jounced, and muffled uh-uh-uh-UH! noises came from her throat, but she didn’t stop working on Alan’s cock.

Nearby, Malcolm pulled Donna’s head off his cock. She whimpered, her tongue hanging out.

“C’mon, bitch-mommy,” said Malcolm. “You know how I like it best. No, don’t pout. Just get ready.”

Donna pulled down her panties, kicked them off, and sank two fingers into her cunt. Then she withdrew her fingers and lubed up her ass with her vaginal juices. Malcolm got behind her, gave her cunt maybe a dozen quick pumps with his cock, then pulled out and rested the head of his cock on her anus.

Malcolm saw Alan watching. He pointed at the stretch marks on Donna’s flanks. “Her pussy’s too loose. It’s like a train tunnel.”

“You’d feel more if you were bigger,” shouted Russ. He had to shout over the slapping of his hips against Daisy’s ass cheeks.

“I’m plenty big,” said Malcolm.

“Not according to your mom.”

Malcolm scowled. “Fuck you, man. If you can find her, you can fuck her. For free. Everyone else did.” Malcolm spanked Donna’s ass. “Now. Say it, you dried-up whore.”

“Fuck my ass,” said Donna. “Please butt-fuck this stupid, slutty mommy. Cum in this slutty mommy’s ass, please.”

He spanked her again, harder. “Please what?”

“Please, sir. Please fuck mommy butt-slut. Mommy butt-slut loves it in her ass, please, sir—ooaaAAHHHOOHHHHHYEAH—”

Malcolm gritted his teeth as he tunneled up Donna’s ass. “Hell, yes. You guys really need to try this. Tighter than any pussy.”

Russ smirked. “That’s fag stuff.” And he gripped Daisy’s hips and bore down.

It didn’t take long. Russ pummeled Daisy. She kept her head on Alan’s cock until the very end but had to let go when Russ hammered out his orgasm in a battery of thrusting. Then Russ pulled out and tossed himself back on the couch, soaking in his orgasm as if he’d just smoked a joint. Daisy’s empty cunt burped air, then closed itself, sealing the cum inside of her. Then, smiling like a mental patient, she took Alan’s cock in her slender, pink-nailed hand and popped it back in her mouth.

Malcolm was next. He kept up a steady stream of abuse toward his woman as he sawed in and out of her ass. Donna responded with throaty yeahs and pleases and yeses and other urgings. As Malcolm neared orgasm, his words disintegrated into a series of fuck yous and stupid cunts and fucking bitches. And then he blew himself up into Donna’s colon as she shrieked pain and pounded ecstasy into the rug.

Alan was last. Daisy had recovered quickly from Russ’s pounding. With terrifying skill she worked him to orgasm. With his first pulse, she pistoned his entire shaft down her throat, then out, then down her throat again, over and over. Through his pleasurable agony, Alan realized her technique was extracting as much semen as his body could possibly produce. He held on as long as he could, but then his cock became too sensitive. He broke Daisy’s hold and fell to the floor.

Daisy rested her head on her forearms, ass up, quivering. At first Alan thought she might be crying, but then he heard words: Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah, fuck, yeah— The girl was shaking in ecstasy. Donna was doing the same thing—ass up, head down, trembling in pleasure. A pair of junkies, lost in the bliss of their fix.

“Shit,” said Alan. “Fuck. That was incredible.”

“Ain’t done yet,” said Malcolm, zipping up. “C’mon. There’s one last thing to see.”

The women churned in private pleasures as Russ and Alan zipped up. By the time they had retrieved their beers and sat on the sofa, mother and daughter had recovered enough to move with intent.

“Watch this,” said Malcolm. “Fucking ’em is fun, but this is my favorite part.”

Daisy rolled onto her back, pinching her pussy lips closed so nothing could leak out. Donna crawled over and straddled her daughter, head above Daisy’s pelvis and ass at her face. Then mother pushed herself up into a half-squat as daughter opened her mouth.

“Oh, shit,” said Alan. “No way—”

Malcolm’s cum dropped out of Donna’s asshole and into Daisy’s mouth. When the flow of cum ran dry, Daisy snaked her tongue up into her mother’s anus and licked it clean.

“Holy shit,” breathed Alan. Russ and Malcolm hooted and high-fived. Donna mouth-breathed in empty-headed bliss. Daisy lapped away.

Soon Daisy stopped licking. She lay twitching, giggling dopily, huh-huh-huh. Alan noticed that the hand she’d used to trap Russ’s cum inside her now rested limply at her side.

“Looks like you were potent tonight,” said Russ. “Girl might be OD’ing.”

“Fuck, yes,” said Malcolm. “That’s 100% uncut Malcolm she just lapped up.”

Donna dismounted. “C’mon, baby,” she said, prodding her. “Mommy needs it now. Please sit on her face.”

“You’re losing out, ‘Mommy,’” said Malcolm. He gestured at the white stream pulsing from Daisy’s twat.

“Oh, God,” Donna hissed. She wrenched open her daughter’s legs and lapped at Russ’s semen. If Daisy noticed her mother’s attentions, it didn’t seem to make a difference. She was all twitched-out smiles and misfiring synapses. Once Donna finished cleaning what cum remained from her daughter’s pussy, she sucked at the wet spot on the carpet.

The men sipped their beers as they watched the spectacle. In time, Donna stopped sucking on the carpet and rested her head on the wet spot. She made little jerky breaths, like someone was poking the soles of her feet with needles. Her eyes were half-open, and she saw nothing.

In a high-school history class, Alan had seen an etching of the Chinese opium dens of the nineteenth century. That’s what this looked like. Mother and daughter were wrecked out of their minds with semen.

Alan’s post-orgasm guilt was building. “Are they going to be okay?”

“Hell, yes,” said Russ. “This is normal. They’ll be fine.”

“Should we leave?”

“Dude,” said Russ. “We paid for two whole hours. Even if we don’t fuck them again, we stay. Look around. See that television and those speakers in the wall? See that bar? That’s all ours right now.”

Alan gestured at the twitching women. “What about them?”

Malcolm smirked. “They don’t care. Watch this.” He leaned over Donna and hocked up phlegm on the side of her face. And then another, this one in her ear. And then he reached around and plunged two fingers up her anus and shook her midsection back and forth. Donna responded to none of it.

Alan regarded Malcolm. He’d known Malcolm was not a good person, and now he decided that he was a bad person. His friend was awful.

But then Alan looked around the room—the high ceilings, the chandeliers, the wallpaper, the huge couch, the plush carpet. He thought about the young man at the door—the nice clothes, and the downturned corners of his mouth that bespoke contempt. He looked at the women’s lovely finger- and toenails, how expensive those colors must have been. How they probably hired someone to apply the polish. And he remembered the woman’s scent of roses and whiskey.

They had money, these women and that young man. Even if the women were insane whores and the young man was their pimp, or whatever. And he’d handed them an entire day’s wages. And tomorrow he’d have to make that money all over again at a job that alternately bored him and enraged him.

“Okay,” said Alan. “Where’s their whiskey?”

Thomas let the hot water of the shower beat on his back. He rubbed his neck. Carrying the dead weight of his sister to her bed hadn’t been a problem, but lugging Mother to her room had strained him. Donna was gaining weight. She’d need to spend more time in their home gym. She wouldn’t like it—exercise was hard when you felt miserable—but it had to be done. She needed to look good to keep bringing in the money, and his sister couldn’t do the work alone. Not unless he doubled her hours and clients, and neither he nor Donna would let that happen.

Thomas mulled over the night’s clients. He’d studied them as they retrieved their phones. Russ was his usual, douchebroedly exultant self. Malcolm was sated, a scavenger who’d eaten his fill. The new guy, Alan—he was harder to read. He was new, and new guys either really liked what just happened or they looked sick. Alan just looked conflicted. Thomas wasn’t sure if he’d be back, and he was pretty sure that Alan wasn’t sure, either.

Alan was observant, though. As he picked up his phone, he’d commented on the signature on one of the paintings. “Daisy painted that?”

Thomas nodded. “A while ago.” He said it in a way to shut that conversation right down.

As Thomas shampooed his cock, he flashed on where he’d been ten minutes earlier: up to his balls inside his mother. As usual, Daisy had gotten more cum than Donna, so he had to make up the difference. He remembered her calves on his shoulders, her perfectly manicured toes by his ears. Everything above her waist was covered by a blanket—he couldn’t bear to look at her, even though she was dead to the world—but his pounding shook loose from her muffled uhs and ohs.

In time, Thomas had brought himself off inside his mother. Then he pulled out, set a plate at her crotch, and sat her up so his cum could run out. Then he let his mother fall back, and he set the plate on the nightstand. Donna would wake in a few hours, her craving not fully sated by the night’s activities. What was on the plate would let her sleep and keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay until more men arrived.

Thomas used a loofa on his feet and reflected. Of course he didn’t have to feed them that way. He could just jack off onto the plate, like when it all started. But one night about six months ago he’d fucked Daisy while she was sleeping it off. And although he tried not doing it again, eventually he gave up. They didn’t know, either of them. He was sure of it. And he was so lonely.

Thomas shivered in the hot water. Christ. What horrors they were, the three of them.

Stepping out of the shower, he tallied up tonight’s take. With that $240, they had enough for the mortgage. A few days more and they’d have the health insurance premium. After that, utilities and food and necessities, including birth control and STD tests and mani-pedis. He’d take the money to the bank. The tellers probably thought he was a drug dealer. God, if only.

Thomas cleaned and aired the main room where they’d all fucked. Then he poured a glass of whiskey and tried to distract himself with television. He cursed his stepfather, who had somehow—somehow!—done this to his sister and his mother, rendered them somehow—somehow!—addicted to cum like it was black tar heroin. The son-of-a-bitch stepfather that Thomas had removed and buried in the backyard.

Thomas knew he shouldn’t have done it. He should have tortured his stepfather into reversing what he’d done. If it was reversible at all. But he’d been so angry, and the bat had been right there.

Someday, Thomas thought, the three of them would be free from this. But until then, he and his mother and sister would be servicing low-class bumpkins like the fucking RAM team, and he’d be cleaning up after all of them.

Seriously, he thought. Fuck those low-rent douchebags. Keep giving me your cash, you poor dumb fucks who can’t get it for free. I’ll keep taking it. Fuck you all.