Sharon beats Johhny.

"Stand up, Johnny boy," Sharon commanded, her voice cold enough to freeze blood. John struggled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. "Remove the cuffs, James," she said, her tone shifting to something warm and approving. "Legs and arms, darling."

James moved with practiced efficiency, his touch gentle as he unlocked the restraints, keeping the leash wrapped securely around his hand. He glanced at John with utter contempt before turning back to his sister with pure adoration in his eyes.

John stretched his arms, wincing at the deep red marks on his wrists. He looked directly at Sharon, hatred burning in his gaze. She smiled, feeling a throb between her legs. "I love that look," she murmured. "It makes me so fucking wet." She stepped close, invading his space. "Now, I'm not going to get any trouble from you, am I, you worthless piece of shit?"

When he hesitated, she pinched his nipple viciously, twisting until he cried out. "Answer me!"

"No, Ms. Sharon," he gasped, the words tasting like poison.

She circled him like a shark, her fingers trailing over the fresh welts on his back, pressing into the bruises. He flinched away, which only made her laugh. "Here's what's going to happen, Johnny boy," she whispered in his ear, her voice dripping with venom. " James and I are going to dress you in that rubber maid's outfit. If you're a good little bitch, maybe I'll let you lick my pussy clean. If not..." She grabbed his balls and squeezed until his knees buckled. "I'll make you beg for death. Do you understand, you pathetic excuse for a man?"

"Yes, Ms. Sharon," he sobbed.

She released him and turned to James, her entire demeanor shifting. "Come here, James," she said softly, pulling him close and kissing his forehead tenderly. "You're doing so well. I’m so proud of you."

James melted into her touch, his eyes closing in bliss. "Thank you, Ms. Sharon.

The next ten minutes were a ballet of John's degradation, performed with James's practiced efficiency and Sharon's delighted supervision. The rubber panties came first—black, high-waisted, with metal clips dangling from the hems. James held them open while Sharon forced John's feet through the leg holes, yanking them up with cruel tugs that pinched his body hair and made him whimper like a child.

"Hold still, you pathetic bitch," Sharon cooed, her voice warm and loving as she turned to James. "You're doing beautifully, baby. Such careful work."

"Thank you, Ms. Sharon," James murmured, his eyes shining with devotion.

The leggings were next—cool, slick rubber that James smoothed up each leg with reverent strokes, attaching them to the panty clips with sharp little snaps that made John flinch. The short rubber maid's dress followed, pulled around his arms, the sleeves ending in frills that hid the glove attachments. James zipped it up the back slowly, the rubber squeaking as it sealed tight against John's skin, compressing his chest, his waist, making him feel like he was being buried alive. The zipper pull locked to a small ring at the nape with a padlock that clicked shut with finality.

Sharon fluffed the rubber pleats of the skirt, her fingers lingering on the material. "Look at that, James. So pretty. And the bulge in those panties is just adorable."

She tied the white rubber apron around his waist, the bow perfect and symmetrical. The long gloves were pulled up his arms, James working them with the care of a priest handling vestments, tugging at John's arm hair as he clipped them to the hidden fasteners beneath the dress sleeves.

The hood came last. James held it open while Sharon pulled it roughly over John's head, adjusting it until the eye holes, nostrils, and wide mouth hole aligned perfectly. She buckled the blindfold attachments on each side, just in case, then pressed the small white cap onto the hood with adhesive.

She stepped back, her hand on James's shoulder, pulling him close. "Look at our creation," she whispered, pride swelling in her voice. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It's perfect, Ms. Sharon," James breathed, leaning into her touch. "Just like you said it would be."

John stood there, sealed in rubber from neck to toe, his cock a visible bulge beneath the short skirt, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps through the mouth hole.

Sharon reached into her handbag, her eyes never leaving John's terrified face. She pulled out a tube of dark red lipstick, the color of dried blood. James grabbed John's head, holding it immobile as Sharon advanced.

"One final touch," she purred, twisting the tube. "Every proper maid needs her lipstick."

John tried to turn away, but James's grip was iron. Sharon applied a thick, perfect coat to his trembling lips, the red standing out obscenely against the black rubber.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire her work, her arm wrapped possessively around James's waist. "Now you're ready, bitch. My perfect little rubber slut. On your knees now.”

John slowly sank to his knees, the rubber creaking and squeaking with every humiliating movement. The initial coolness of the material was already yielding to clammy heat, beads of sweat forming beneath the tight second skin that sealed him in his own personal hell.

"Cuff its hands behind its back," Sharon ordered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Tight enough that the little bitch can't squirm."

John's eyes filled with tears behind the hood's eye holes. Each click of the handcuffs felt like a door slamming shut on any hope of escape. He offered no resistance as James moved behind him with practiced efficiency, his touch impersonal and cold.

"I believe you owe my brother an apology for your pathetic little escape attempt," Sharon announced, circling him like a vulture.

John started to garble something, but Sharon cut him off with a vicious backhand across his rubber-covered face. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. Nobody wants to hear a single word from your worthless mouth."

She turned to James, her entire demeanor transforming. "James, darling, bring me my handbag, please."

"Of course, Ms. Sharon," he replied, his voice warm with devotion. He placed the bag in her hands, and she pulled out a small gold key, holding it up like a trophy.

"How long has it been, boy?" she asked, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

"Three weeks, Ms. Sharon," James answered, his voice thick with longing.

"What did I promise you when I locked it up last time?"

"You said when this job was completed to your satisfaction, I'd get a treat," James recited, his cock already straining against its prison.

"And have you pleased me, baby?" She reached out and stroked his cheek tenderly.

"I hope so, Ms. Sharon. I tried my very best."

"Come here, my perfect boy."

James moved close, and Sharon wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss. Her tongue explored his mouth with loving thoroughness. When she pulled away, she whispered against his lips, "I'm unlocking you until Monday afternoon. How does that sound, my darling?"

"Yes, please, Ms. Sharon. Thank you so much."

She bent down, found the hidden keyholes, and released the cage with a click. She unclipped it and tossed it aside carelessly. James sighed with pure relief as his eight-inch cock sprang to its full, proud length. Sharon took hold of it, stroking it lovingly with gloved fingers.

"Eyes open, baby," she reminded him gently. "You know the rule."

"Sorry, Ms. Sharon," he breathed, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers. She never let him hide from her affection.

"Now, bitch," she said, her voice turning to ice as she looked at John, "about that apology."

She took hold of James's rigid cock and led him forward by it, using it like a leash. James followed willingly, his eyes never leaving his sister's face with adoring devotion.

"Open your mouth, bitch," Sharon commanded, positioning James's cock inches from John's rubber-bound face. "You're going to show my brother how sorry you are."

“Open your mouth bitch.”