Marc stood over the grill, smiling as he flipped the perfectly seared patties onto the plate and carried them into the kitchen. He crossed the sparkling floor and set them next to the buns. A good job, from a good grillmaster.

Six months in his marriage, and now into a new house, Marc was finally feeling like things were settling down. Naomi and Tiffany had spent weeks finding just the right place, and while he had been reluctant at first—it had been considerably out of his price-range—he had to admit the two sisters had put up a convincing argument he hadn't been able to disagree with.

He paused, his arm resting on the counter as he stared out at the expansive living room. What had that argument been, again?

The sound of the door interrupted his thought. "Hey, honey!" Tiffany said, walking wearing her workout clothes. "Is the food all ready yet? Everyone will be here soon."

"Oh, yeah," Marc said cheerfully, gesturing to the counter full of food. "Got everything out and ready for them."

Tiffany smiled; her eyes lit by the light shining in through the glass doors behind him. "That's good. I'm going to go get dressed. Got to look special, you know?"

As so often happened, his wife's beauty struck Marc. She looked like an angel standing there in her workout clothes, a healthy glow seeming to radiate off her delicate features. He admired her more each day, to the point that it had grown difficult to think sometimes when she was around.

He reluctantly shook off the feeling as she walked by, giving him a light peck on the cheek as she passed. "Are your brother and sister bringing anything?"

Tiffany paused on the first step of the stairs, glancing behind at the food he had prepared. "No, I think what you made will be enough for everyone." She winked at him. "Good job, by the way."

Marc watched her go up the stares, his eyes lingering on her firm ass before turning away. He considered going to the office to get some work done before everyone arrived. He spent most of this spare time lately on the extra accounts he had picked up. That beefy mortgage payment wouldn't pay itself, after all.

Still, he ultimately decided against it. Instead, he went to the dining room to make sure everything was perfect. It was important to get all the little details right. Tiffany liked it when he remembered all the little details.

By the time he lit all the candles and finished putting the silverware in neat rows, he heard Tiffany descending the stairs. He turned, eager to see her again, but froze when he saw what she was wearing.

She stood at the bottom of the steps, a cute little smirk on her face. "What do you think?"

It took Marc several seconds to find his voice; then he murmured. "Tiffany, that—are you really sure—"

Tiffany let out a small giggle at his expression. She was wearing a halter top that tied just below the chest. Her slender waist vanished into skirt that ended scandalously high on her legs, with slits on both sides showing the skin up to her hips. She did a little twirl, giving Marc a show.

"You like it?" she asked coyly.

"I mean," he swallowed, feeling his pants tightening. "It's lovely, honey. It's just... are you sure you want to wear it with your brother and sister coming?"

"I don't think they'll mind," she said smoothly. She walked up to him. "Relax. It's not like I'm wearing it to church or something."

"Uhh, right." Marc's eyes had trouble figuring out which part of his wife's lovely body they wanted to look at most. It wasn't helping with the way she clogged up his head. "I actually meant to, eh, mention that. Uh..."

She stood there in the kitchen, grinning at him. "Mention church?"

Marc let out a thankful breath. "Right. Church. I was going to say, hon, don't you think it's about time we started going back? I, uh, know you said you were going to give it a few months, but—it's been six already; maybe we should..."

His voice trailed off as his wife, still smiling, stepped up and gently caressed his cheek. "Oh, Marc. I love that you think of these things. I'm sure we'll go back again sometime, but it's not something you need to worry about right now. After all, you have all that work you've been having to do..."

Marc ran a hand through his freshly combed hair. "That's true. I've got four deals I'm trying to close this week alone."

Her lips parted slightly. Her soft, pink lips. "That's so good. I know how much you love making money for me."

Marc shuddered. He did. He loved getting her things and providing for her and making sure she had the best things in life. It made him feel good. So very good.

"I do," he said, rubbing his temples. "You're... you're my princess. That's why... why I want to get back to church with you. It's such an important thing. We wouldn't have met without it."

Tiffany tapped her chin lightly. "I tell you what," she said, slipping her fingers down her top. "Why don't we have our little service right now?"

Marc's stomach lurched. "Now, dear, we talked about this. That's... that's not a good thing to do. It's not godly..."

Tiffany batted her eyes in that way that made him melt inside. "I know you say that, baby, but your lips aren't the only part that talks..."

She pulled up from her top a small, silver key dangling from a thin golden chain. The moment it came into view, Marc felt like the room almost seem to shift; he could barely breathe—let alone think straight. His loins twitched painfully. Tiffany held it out to him.

"You want to worship something, Marc?" she said playfully, the key swaying ever so slightly.

The key seemed to glow and pulse in Marc's mind. "I... we... Tiffany, I really shouldn't... Idolatry is a sin... a bad one..."

Tiffany's tongue ran along her lips. Her voice became like molten velvet. "Get on your knees, baby. You know you want to."

Marc dropped to his knees immediately; it was like he was possessed—like his body wasn't his own anymore. He wanted to resist. To be firm for his wife, to help guide her down the godly path like his father had taught him.

But there on his knees, Marc could feel her heat. He could smell her desire.

She made that perfect little giggle that always sent shivers down his spine. "Ooh, you trained so well, baby. Such a good husband." She ran her fingers through his hair. "It turns me on seeing you like this."

"I... I want that..."

Her hands slid down his face and then up her thighs. "I know you do, honey. I want you to show me, though." Then slowly, torturously, she slid her black mini-skirt up, revealing the glistening silk of her smooth cunt.

"Worship my pussy, Marc. Show me how much you love it—how much you love me."

Marc obeyed. Leaning in between her splayed thighs, he felt the overwhelming pressure in his head driving him onward. He kissed her sex lovingly, reverently. He licked her, nibbled at her. Worshipped her. When she finally grabbed his head, holding him tight to her flesh, he moaned deeply into her slit, savoring her taste.

"Aaah... That's right, baby. Pray to your wife's cunt. This is so much.... Mmmhhnnn.... so much better than some stupid old church, isn't it?" She gripped his dark hair tighter. "Isn't it?"

"Yeesss," he moaned, his wife's holy cunt grinding on his face. His thoughts were no longer his own. They were the thoughts of a supplicant, one begging for the blessing of his Goddess. One desperate to serve; one desperate to please—to make sure he brought Tiffany nothing but joy and pleasure.

"Oooh," she crooned. "Right there, Marc. Right. Fucking. There!"

She came hard, laughing and moaning in orgasmic triumph as her pussy gushed all over Marc's face and mouth. He drank from her like a holy chalice, desperately needing more from his blessed goddess.

Marc looked up at his wife, her blissful face aglow. "Such a good boy," she purred, patting him on the head.

Marc felt ragged. Broken. He felt ashamed. Ashamed to have fallen into such complete submission to his wife. Ashamed to have blasphemed and worshiped his wife's smooth, silky, perfect vagina over his rightful Lord and God. And ashamed that his manhood was so stiff it felt like it might burst.

Every time, he told himself it would be the last time. That he wouldn't let her do this to him. He was the head of the household, just as God ordained. It was his duty to guide her away from the sinful path, as Adam was charged with guiding Eve...

Tiffany glanced up at the clock."Mmmm. We have a few minutes, yet." She bit her lip, looking darkly down at him.

Marc watched as his wife walked past him into the kitchen, and slowly leaned against the counter. With her skirt still hiked up, she reached back and spread the cheeks of that tight, perfect ass of hers.

"You did such a good job on my pussy, baby. Why don't you crawl over here and lick this nice and clean."

Marc couldn't believe what was happening. He could barely form words through his mind's haze. His entire body felt locked.

Nevertheless, he obeyed.

Inch by inch, he crawled over her round ass, feeling like some sort of animal crawling after his mate, his aching shaft throbbing with each step. When he finally got behind her, his mouth eagerly moved between the cheeks of her sweet ass, tongue sliding around those plump mounds until he found her little puckered rosebud.

"Oooh, just like that. You're getting better and better at giving your wife what she needs. Without reservation. Without thought."

He put his mouth right onto her dark cherry, and she giggled—a soft, seductive giggle—as she reached between her legs and slid two fingers into her hot box.

The wet schlicking as she pleasured herself threatened to drive Marc insane; the sounds flowed into his ears like a dark incantation: Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany. The spell of Tiffany's divine cunt had been cast on him again. He kissed, licked, and sucked on her asshole, desperate to give her the pleasure she demanded.

Tiffany gasped in pleasure as she ground her ass against his mouth. She giggled between the wet, rhythmic sounds of her sex. "Nnngh... You're such an dirty boy, Marc. How could... fuck... how could you ever go back to church when you love sucking on your wife's ass so much? Ooooh..... You don't belong there anymore..."

With her free hand she grabbed his hair again, pushing him hard in between her toned cheeks. "You belong right there, on your knees, licking me clean with your filthy little tongue."

She pulled out from her sex and pressed it right to his lips—slimy and dripping. Marc drank like a thirst-stricken man; he wanted to take every drop of her nectar from her perfect folds.

"Please!" he begged, his throbbing cock driving him insane. "I'm so horny..."

She stood before him, staring down at him, then at her glistening fingers. "I know you are, baby." She reached down and lightly ran her finger along the bridge of his nose. "That's the point."

He stared up at her, shaking with need as she slid her skirt back down. "Now go get yourself cleaned up. James and Naomi will be here any minute."

***

When Tiffany's siblings arrived, they held each other in a warm, loving embrace. Mike knew there was something off about how they hugged. Something suspicious about how James fondled his wife's ass. But his thoughts were still muddled, and he couldn't quite figure it out.

Not that it mattered. James was over now, and as his wife had made clear, during these times he was only to speak when spoken to.

As always, James sat at the head of the table, with his sisters on either side of him. Marc and Naomi's husband Patrick—who came in behind the three—stood on either side of the table, just in case their wives or James needed anything.

The three siblings ate and chatted happily as their spouses stood in attendance. Marc couldn't help but notice that Naomi was as provocatively dressed as her sister. She wore tight leather pants and a red silk blouse which left very little to the imagination, her heavy breasts pushing against the blouse and outlining her nipples in the fabric.

"So I hear you're taking on more work, Marc," James said casually as the three ate.

Marc laughed nervously. "Yeah, you know. Gotta keep strike while the iron's hot, you know?"

"Oh sure, I know all about striking hot irons," he said with a grin, and a second later Tiffany jumped in her chair with a pleased squeak.

"You're not the only one," Naomi said smoothly, patting her standing husband on the thigh. "We went and got little Patrick here a second job."

Marc looked across at Patrick. He had a vacant look in his eyes, but he noticed the man's mouth was moving ever so slightly. Moving as if he was silently saying something. He furrowed his brow, trying to make out what they were.

"Run. Run while you can."

Marc blinked, confusion at what the man seemed to be mouthing to him.

"And it's been so good for him," Naomi said. "It's so important to stay busy! Isn't that right, honey?"

"Yes," he replied flatly. "It... it keeps me gone most nights. But it's important to stay busy. Important to make money for my sweetheart."

Naomi winked at Marc. "You two are like peas in a pod. Me and Tiff are such lucky girls."

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room. They sat around a smooth black coffee table, contrasting with the room's pale white carpet. Marc sat in a thickly upholstered armchair holding a glass of water, while Patrick sat with his hands on his lap on one end of a large leather couch the same ebony color as the coffee table.

James set at the center of the couch, his two sisters pressing against him. He held a mug of coffee Marc had made, while the sisters drank wine from thin-stemmed crystal glasses.

"So, Tiff," James said, taking a sip of his coffee, "I thought, since you and Marc are all settled into this fancy house now, that a nice way to break it in would be for you to show off some of the things you've learned."

Marc frowned. Learned?

He watched a smile spread wide across his wife's face. "You really think I'm ready?"

James poked his sister in the side. "You've had your big sister teaching you, haven't you?"

Naomi giggled, and stretched back against the couch, pushing her heavy breasts against the red silk of her blouse. She smirked over at him when she caught him staring. "I bet you'd like to know, too. Huh Marc?"

Marc blinked. It felt like he had missed something. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Oh, don't tease," Tiffany said, grabbing and shaking her elbow. She then looked at her brother, who was grinning at her expectantly.

She bit her lip. "OK," she said, and Marc could hear the hint of excitement in her voice. She hopped up from the couch, and James playfully slapped her ass.

A deep feeling of wrongness plagued Marc. He knew it was there. He strained to see it. Strained to understand. Strained till his head hurt, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Run while you can.

Tiffany's smile was warm as she walked over to Marc. He watched her pull that little key back out from between her breasts again.

She stroked his chin. "I know you've probably felt a little out of sorts today, Marc. Change is hard. A new wife. A new house. New responsibilities."

"Something is wrong, Tiffany," he said, his lips quivering. "It's right in front of me. I can feel it."

"Oh, baby." She pressed a finger to his lips. "That's cause we're not quite finished training yet. But you're so close, and you've been doing so good. You want to do good for me, don't you? You want to make me happy."

He swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"Good boy," she cooed. "Now sit back in your chair—just like that. Now, just breath, and focus on your beautiful wife."

He did, watching as the silver key started swaying, sending his mind to throbbing again.

"I... But... Oh..."

"That's right," came Tiffany's silky voice. "Everything goes away but my voice. All you have to do is listen. Listen, and obey."

"Obey," he murmured. It was wrong. Deep down, he knew it.

Run while you can.

But I can't, he thought. I have to obey. All I want to do is obey. Obey my beautiful goddess.

"Tell me, baby. How often have we been training? You're allowed to remember now."

The memories flowed, melting, confusing memories. Memories of her. Of the key. Of her putting command after command into his brain. Programming him, and each time making him forget. Forget the dirty, ungodly things she made him do to himself for his pleasure.

"Every day," he gasped. "A second time on Sunday, just to learn to worship you."

"That's right," she said, stroking the throbbing erection he now sported through his pants. "I know you've wanted to put this in me, baby. I know you've wanted to fuck your sexy goddess of a wife."

He gulped. His hands were shaking.

"I know you wanted it," she purred. "But this is all normal. Everything is as it should be."

She pulled off her top, exposing her pert tits. She smiled, keeping the key out towards him.

Normal. It was normal.

It was normal for her to take her clothes off in front of company. In front of her siblings.

"Normal," he said in a small voice.

"Good. Just like we practiced. Now. Starting with this sentence, anything you hear, from me or my sister or James—especially James—is true. It's true, and right, and unquestionable. Do you understand?"

Marc felt his body try to resist. He felt his mind trying to work. But even as she spoke, she stroked his hardness. He hadn't came in over six months. It wasn't allowed. She teased and edged him, sometimes for training, sometimes for fun, and it left him so horny his brain wouldn't work.

His lips quivered, and, as if sensing his resistance, she slid down his zipper and let his engorged member rise out of his pants.

"Oooh," he heard Naomi say distantly. "It's cute..."

"Do you understand, baby?" Tiffany said, teasing the tip of Marc's cock.

He tried to think, but his thoughts were gone. Only feelings were left; feelings of submission. Of desire. Of obedience.

His hand gripped the armrest of the chair as she pumped his dick slowly, the key still swaying slowly before his eyes.

"And you never need to cum, do you, honey? You want to be hornier and more obedient and more broken each day. Every day. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes. I want to obey. I need to obey my goddess."

She gave his cock a final squeeze, then let go of it. A whimper escaped from him as it twitched and bounced in the cool conditioned air.

She looked down at him with satisfaction, and with her free hand, slid her skirt down to the floor.

He saw her then, knowing her for the goddess she was. Her smooth, creamy skin. Her flat, toned belly and delicately curved hips. A lovely face with a cute, pointed chin and short, silky blonde hair. She was so perfect it hurt him to see it.

"You'll be my perfect husband, just like I've trained you. No desires. No wants. Only obedience."

"Yes," he breathed.

Her smile was gentle; and as she turned away, the key tight in her hand, he watched her swaying ass as she walked back to the couch.

As she did, she extended one hand and snapped her fingers, the noise like the breaking of the universe.

Marc blinked. What was he thinking?

He watched his naked wife sit down with her brother. He watched as James groped her and saw the look of pleasure on her face as he did.

But that was only right, though. They were siblings. Siblings were supposed to be close.

He glanced down at his throbbing, twitching erection. That was normal, too. He was supposed to stay nice and horny. It helped make sure he obeyed his perfect wife.

"You all right, Marc?" James said lightly as he teased his sister's nipples.

"Yeah," he said, scratching his head. "I guess I dozed off there, a minute."

"It's all right," Naomi said as she removed her clothes. "It happens to the best of us."

Marc watched as his wife and her brother made out, kissing slowly and deeply, their tongues dancing with one another. It made him happy to see how close they were.

He felt his cock throb angrily, and as he looked down at it, Naomi giggled. "You know, I like that. Why don't you get your little boy out too, Patrick?"

In a quick movement, her husband stood. His face was red and slick with sweat, like he had been running a marathon. "Please. Please just let me go. You have him now. You... you don't need me."

"Patrick..." Naomi said in a testing voice, walking slowly towards him. "You don't want to embarrass me in front of everyone, do you? I want to see your cock out. Right now."

He shook his head; the sweat dripping off his chin. "No, please. You can let me go. You can keep everything, just let me—"

"Lights out, Patrick," she whispered, and Patrick immediately went quiet, his eyes blank.

Marc rolled his eyes. What did his in-law expect to happen?

"Need some help, Naomi?" Marc asked casually as she pushed her husband back down to the couch.

"No, but thank you, Marc. It's good to see some people still have manners around here."

"He's, aaaah, such a diligent husband," Tiffany moaned as James caressed her smooth, shaved pussy. "He made sure my pussy was nice and clean and slick for you, James."

"Oooh," James murmured as he slipped his fingers into Tiffany's moist cunt. "You're the man, James!"

"Happy to help," he said with a nod, his throbbing cock feeling like it was about to explode.

"We'll have a long talk later tonight, Patrick," Naomi said in an almost motherly tone. "A long talk. But for now, get your dick out. I want the both of you stroking yourselves."

Patrick looked on blankly as he did this. Marc simply nodded and said, "Sure, Naomi. No problem."

And so he did, cranking his shaft while he watched his wife get fingered by her brother. It felt like his brain was shorting out from the pure, frustrating pleasure. He didn't worry about cumming, his thoughtful wife had spent weeks conditioning him to be unable to. He happily edged himself while his wife was quickly driven to orgasm by her brother's skillful fingers.

"See, you understand, Marc," Naomi said happily as Tiffany moaned her pleasure in the background. "You understand how much stress our lovely brother is under, having to look out for his two lovely sisters."

"I know, it's awful," he said, his cock glistening with precum. "He does so much."

"It's why we have to help him, you know?" Naomi said, stepping close, letting her heavy breasts press lightly against his face. "So... you understand if your wife uses her tight little cunt to milk her brother's cock, right?"

There was the faintest twinge in Marc's head, but his wife's control snapped back almost immediately. "Oh sure," he said, relishing the feel of the tits on his face. "It'd be weird if she didn't, I think."

"So glad you get it," Naomi said, taking Marc's head and pushing it deeper into her cleavage before leaving him to return to her siblings.

James slowly drew out his cock. It was thick and long and powerful, and his wife squirmed as she looked at it. She took up position between her brother's legs, and paused only to give Marc a wink before she moving her hands to finger herself and stroke James's cock at the same time.

Naomi quickly joined them, the two naked sisters holding one another by the hips as they pleasured their brother's manhood. They caressed it gently as they touched themselves, but this only lasted a few minutes before Naomi, apparently unable to hold back, took her Tiffany's head and pushed her mouth down onto James's cock. Tiffany's lewd moan made it clear she was fine with this.

"So Marc," James said as his sister bobbed up and down on his dick. "I've been thinking. The deed you got on this house. You should probably go ahead and sign that over to me. For the good of the family, you know?"

Marc frowned for a split second before the sliver of resistance melted away. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea, now that you mention it."

"Good, good," James said happily as Marc's wife made sloppy slurping sounds on his shaft. "We're all in this together, you know?"

"Oh, most definitely. I appreciate everything you do to look after Tiffany," Marc said, although James was no longer listening. He had grabbed his blonde-haired sister and pulled her up, his cock resting easily against her sopping wet cunt, the cunt Marc had made nice and ready for him.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you ready for me, brother?"

James chuckled. "Always, sis." Then, without pause, he slammed himself balls deep into her pussy, making Tiffany squeal like an animal; the sound of her pleasure filling the house.

Her face screwed up tight—a look of pure, unadulterated bliss—as she was filled again and again by him.

Naomi watched this with lewd joy before leering back at him. "Stroke faster, Marc. Can't you see how well he's fucking your wife?"

"Oh... oh, sure," Marc said, his voice a half moan as he furiously stroked his own cock.

He watched his wife cum again and again on James's girthy cock, their other sister moving to use her tongue on his balls while he worked. Between their moans and the wet sounds of their grinding loins, it was like a beautiful, degenerate symphony.

Finally, James flipped Tiffany, turning her to face Marc as he pounded up into her cunt. Her face was a mask of ecstasy, lost in a realm of pure bliss.

"Having fun, honey?" Marc said conversationally.

Her response was only a ragged, mindless moan of pleasure as her brother pumped into her harder. Finally, she managed a groaning, "It's so good—fucking so good!"

"I bet," Marc said, watching the two sisters kiss each other, Naomi holding her sister steady while James hammered into her.

"Oooh," James crooned. "I think I'm gonna cum soon myself. You don't mind if I fill Tiffany's cunt here, do you, Marc? It's not like you're allowed to."

Marc hesitated. The word 'no' floated in his mind. He didn't understand why, though. His wife's cunt belonged to James. It was his duty to fill it with his cum.

"I'd be honored if you did," he heard himself say before he could finish thinking it through.

Again, James was obviously no longer listening. He grabbed onto Tiffany's tits with both hands and fucked her harder than ever. Marc watched the man's prodigious balls tighten up and, with a low groan, he unloaded deep into his sister pussy.

Tiffany wailed with an intensity that seemed to go beyond pleasure and straight to something deeper. She bucked and writhed atop her brother as she came again as well, a gushing slurry of their mixed fluids sloshing down James's shaft.

James drew her up off his cock and let her down to the carpet, where his seed oozed thickly out of her as she lay panting and gasping with ragged breaths. Naomi quickly took Tiffany's place, kneeling down to lick clean her brother's still stiff erection.

"So I was thinking, Marc," James said, wiping the sweat from his face. "It's probably best if we all go ahead and move in. This house is way too huge for just you and sis, after all. It's important for me to look after everyone, you know? And it's easier to do that if we're all under one roof. I think we can make a spot in the basement or something for you."

Marc considered this, but it didn't matter what thoughts went through his head, his answer came automatically.

"I mean, yeah, Marc. Whatever you need. I want to help you take care of the girls in any way that I can."

James chuckled as he grabbed Naomi's arm and pushed his cock up inside his other sister. "I know, Marc. That's what makes you such a stand-up guy."