The Will Of The Wongs

Arthur was led upstairs and into a bedroom. His hands were uncuffed only long enough to be strapped to the bedposts, spreading him wide. He was on his back, naked and helpless, his cock still encased. Mrs. Wong entered, her silhouette a dominant shape in the dim light.

Without a word, she straddled his face. She rode his mouth, her movements slow and deliberate, grinding down, using him. He could feel her arousal, could smell it, taste it , and his imprisoned cock throbbed with a need that bordered on agony. She brought herself to the brink, again and again, denying herself, and by extension, denying him any hint of satisfaction. His muffled groans were lost as she crescendoed in a shuddering, quiet moan, then lifted herself off him.

The door clicked shut behind her. Minutes passed, then the door opened again. He was still on the bed. A hand unbuckled the straps on the hood, but it wasn't removed. He was released from the bed and made to kneel. Mei gently drew his hands behind his back and clipped them together in cuffs.

"I'm going to give you one more chance to prove yourself, Arthur," she whispered in his ear, her voice an intimate secret between them. "Do you want to prove yourself?"

He wanted to weep with relief. He nodded, unable to speak through the emotion.

"I need to hear the words, Arthur."

"Yes," he cried, his voice muffled by the leather. "Yes, please, allow me to prove myself."

"You know what it means if I allow you back into my life and my family's life, don't you?" His hooded head nodded.

"Are you sure, my love? It won't be easy for you, especially now that you know what I need."

He nodded again, the movement exaggerated by the hood.

"I need the words, Arthur. Nice and loud, so Mother can hear."

"Yes, Mei! I know what it means! I know what you need! I know you need more than my body can give you!" he shouted, his voice raw.

"That's right, Arthur," she purred. "And from now on, I think you should show a little more respect. You will call me 'Miss Mei' and my sisters 'Miss' as well. My mother you will call 'Mistress,' or 'Mistress Wong.' Am I clear?"

He nodded. A stinging slap across his head made him jump.

"Yes, Miss Mei!"

"Good boy. Are you ready to prove yourself, boy?"

"Yes, Miss Mei."

She helped him up and forced him to kneel over a low, padded bench, his head still hooded. He felt her presence leave, replaced by another, and then a new, blunt pressure was forced into his mouth. The attached rubber cock from a strap-on filled his throat, silencing any protest. It was Kimi. She held his head, fucking his mouth with slow, wrenching thrusts. Then he felt a new pressure at his rear. The familiar, invading thickness. Mei. She took his arse, her movements possessing him, claiming him, fundamentals of his surrender. His tears were real, soaking the leather hood, but they were tears of acceptance. After the ordeal was over, he was released. He knelt on the floor, trembling and broken. "Thank you, Miss Mei. Thank you, Miss Kimi," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Miss Mei. Please forgive me." He had been reclaimed, reforged into their shape.