It was late on a Saturday morning when Dad walked in on us. His normal routine was to spend the morning working, then coming home early to take us all to dinner. He'd been gone for a couple of hours, and neither of us expected to see him again until at least 3:00 that afternoon. We were wrong.



I'd just finished watching Carolyn bring herself to orgasm ‑ she was being rewarded for getting a D on a term paper ‑ this time by pressing herself onto the dining room table, rubbing her wet cunt up and down over the pointed corner, until she came, screaming. She'd just fallen to the floor, exhausted, her swollen, abused gash fully exposed, when I heard the front door open.



Understandably, the first words out of Dad=s mouth at seeing his 18 year old daughter splayed naked on the floor, panting from an explosive orgasm, were, "What the fuck?"



I, of course answered in a typically intelligent and coherent manner.



"Uh, hi, Dad. I.uh.didn't know you were coming home." Life as I knew it was coming to a quick end.



"Well, that's sure as Hell obvious. Care to tell me what the fuck is going on here? Why the fuck is your sister naked?"



This was no time for lies or bullshit. I took a deep breath. The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.



"I don't let Carolyn wear clothes when you're not home, Dad," I began explaining.



"You 'don't let her wear clothes?' Just what does that mean?" he cut me off. "Why the hell would she do what you say, anyway?



"She's my slave, Dad."



He didn't say anything for several seconds, just moving his eyes back and forth between the two of us.



"Slave," he finally said.



"Slave,' I affirmed.



AYou force her to do this, then.@



ANo. She does it willingly, Dad. It=s just the way she is. Me, too, for that matter. Not a slave, I mean, not me. I=m the other way, I tried unsuccessfully to explain.



"And you want this, Carolyn?" he asked, looking at her. I looked at her nodded, signaling for her to answer.



She averted her eyes before softly responding, "Yes, Sir."



"Why? How long? Shit, I don't believe any of this," he said, shaking his head.



Carolyn placed her hand in front of her mouth, indicating a request to be permitted to speak. Again, I nodded.



"Sir," Carolyn started, "I can't remember a time when it didn't feel right to not do what he says. I guess you could say I've really been his slave as long as I can remember. I don't think I can really explain why, other than to say 'because it's what I am, because it feels right, because this is what I'm supposed to be."



AI suppose you've been fucking her regularly, too? Peddling her ass to your buddies, maybe? he asked venomously, his eyes focused angrily on me.



ANo, Dad, not yet. She wants me to, but I=m not sure I want to do that. Eventually, I=m going to fuck her, and I might even whore her out after that, or maybe even sell her cherry, but she's not ready yet. She does give pretty good head, though. I cringed inwardly after blurting that last part out, wondering if my life would end now.



He mulled my comments over for a moment before responding. ASo, my daughter is a cock sucker and a slave to her brother, but still a virgin, huh? he commented.



AThat=s about it, Dad, I answered. The room fell silent, the only sound that of the clock tick‑tocking on the mantle.



AI see," he said, returning his attention to his naked daughter, kneeling now, knees spread wide and her cunt visibly dripping. "You say she has a decent mouth? How long have you been using it?"



"About a year," I answered. I could tell he was giving the concept of his daughter being a slave some thought. It was more the change in attitude than the obvious hardness in the front of his pants, but the change was quite clear.



"May I address your slave, then?" he asked, much calmer now.



"It's your house, and she=s your daughter," I shrugged. "You have as much right as anyone."



"Get up on your feet, you little bitch!" he suddenly yelled, grabbing her by the hair and wrapping one of his huge fists in it. "You want to be a sex slave, fine, but your days of ignoring the man who gives you food and shelter are over. If you want to remain in my home, you'll be my slave just as much as you are your brother=s. Understand, cunt?"



'Y.yes, Sir," she stammered, shocked by the change of events.



"Is that all right with you?" he asked me. "I don't have a problem with your relationship, but if you want to live here, you'll both abide by MY rules."



"No problem at all, Dad," I replied. "Consider it rent if you want. Carolyn, from now on you obey your father as you would me," I told her.



"Yes, Sir," she answered, dropping to her knees at Dad's feet.



"Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Now, it's been over a month for me, so how about you wrap those slutty lips around my cock and start sucking!"



That day marked a major change in our lives ‑ mine, Dad's, but most of all, Carolyn's. We transformed her bedroom into something out of a sexual sadist's dream. First, we stripped it completely ‑ no carpet, no draperies, no furniture. The heat and air conditioning vent was permanently shut, and the window locked. We replaced the door with a heavy-duty, fire rated one, and installed twin keyed deadbolts to secure it. Carolyn could now be locked in or out at our choosing. For ambiance, we Awallpapered the room with cutouts from skin magazines showing naked women being abused - whipped, ass-fucked, sucking off dogs, just about everything imaginable - and later, supplemented these with photos of Carolyn=s naked, abused body. A heavy eye bolt secured to the floor gave us a place to lock our slave to when we weren't using her. The only furnishings were an old, filthy mattress on the floor, her water and food bowls, and a bucket she could use as a toilet. We seldom let her empty it more than twice a week, so she was careful to use it only when absolutely necessary.



She didn't spend much time in her room, though. Her days were filled with chores, and at night, she would be chained by the collar to the foot of either my bed or dad=s. Wherever she spent the night, she served as an alarm clock, gently sucking on cock until her Master of the morning awakened, spewing his load into her eager teenage mouth, then following up with his morning piss. Once that was over, she crawled into the other bedroom and repeated the process.



With her normal breakfast of two loads of cum and urine consumed, she was expected to prepare our breakfasts. The fare varied day‑to‑day, but was always served hot and cooked to perfection. Anything less, she knew, would result in a beating she'd not soon forget.



Once breakfast was over, Dad and I would go get dressed for our day, while Carolyn would hurry through her morning chores ‑ washing the dishes and making sure the house was spotless. If she had done an acceptable job, we=d allow her an orgasm once every few days, usually by pressing herself into the palm of our hand or the tip of a shoe. She usually had about five minutes to get dressed, including putting her makeup on, before school. The privilege of orgasm had a price, however; she never had enough time to get cleaned up before school, and would end up attending class with cum and piss on her breath.



Dad thought up all sorts of nasty and humiliating things to make Carolyn do, too. For instance, since she was already wiping my ass after I shit, Dad decided we didn't need to spend money on toilet paper; she could just use her hand. From that, it was just a small step to having her clean our assholes with her tongue. It was Dad who suggested tying fishing weights to tiny flat metal clips, then clamping them on to her inner labia. She screamed the first time we did it, but we just ignored her and continued adding weights. It wasn't very long before her inner lips hung down below the outer ones.



It was also Dad who set up her diet: breakfast for Carolyn was a bowl of dry dog food, usually moistened with her own piss; dinner consisted of scraps tossed onto the floor for her to scramble after. Lunch, if she had any, was usually a cold stew of vegetable trimmings, and perhaps, if she'd been exceptionally obedient, a few little chunks of fat trimmed from our steaks. On school days, she just went hungry unless I decided to fill her belly with a couple of shots of semen. We were careful to make sure she stayed healthy, though; a sick slave is just a burden, so she got a daily megadose of vitamins, antibiotics at the first sign of illness, and she got a normal meal every two days.



Dad and I both used her mouth each the morning, being very careful to resist the temptation afforded by her wet pussy. We did finally break in her asshole, Dad suggesting it as an alternative hole for us to use, while allowing her cherry to remain intact. It soon became normal for her to walk to school not only with piss on her breath, but cum dripping out of her abused rectum.



Once in a while Dad would bring a date home - sometimes obviously a hooker - that we'd share. If the date seemed like she'd be okay with it, we'd have Carolyn "fluff" us, then clean everyone up afterwards. A couple of times ‑ usually with some whore Dad rented, but once with a regular date ‑ we'd have a girl‑on‑girl show to get things warmed up. We both noticed how much Carolyn didn't like to eat another girl=s pussy, so we started doing that regularly.



Dad and I decided it was time to change Carolyn's dress code again. Frilly socks and patent leather shoes were out; in were mini‑skirts, stockings and spiked‑heel shoes. Her blouses always showed plenty of cleavage, enhanced considerably by her lack of a bra. On the few occasions when she was permitted panties (usually only when her skirt was so short that she'd be exposed when standing), they were nothing but the tiniest of g‑strings. She was still required to wear red during her period ‑ a not‑so‑fashionable red leather choker, which embarrassed her even more than her scarf had.



Carolyn's attire pushed ‑ more often than not exceeded ‑ the school's published dress code. Her skimpy attire resulted in being sent to the Principal's office nearly weekly, but she soon learned that detention could be easily avoided. All she had to do was crawl under the Principal's desk and open that sexy mouth of hers. The Principal was the only person in the school who knew Carolyn for the slut she was; to everyone else, she was a cock‑tease who showed off, never dated and never, ever put out.