“Open your eyes,” I snapped.
They blinked, the transition from the mental void to reality hitting them like a physical blow. They were panting, drenched in sweat, completely primed. I didn’t give them a second to recover. I climbed onto the coffee table, spreading my legs wide, exposing my soaking wet pussy to their starving gazes.
“Now,” I commanded, “come and eat. Both of you. At the same time. If you stop before I tell you, I’ll make you spend the night in the cellar.”
They scrambled forward like dogs, fighting for position. My husband’s tongue lashed across my clit while my son buried his face in my folds, sucking greedily. I groaned, not out of love, but out of the sheer power of it. I reached down, grabbing both their heads, shoving them harder against me.
“Suck it, you useless fucks,” I hissed, digging my nails into their scalps. “Lick every drop. Show me how much you love being my slaves.”
The room was filled with the sounds of wet slapping and desperate moans. I could feel their desperation, the way the hypnosis had stripped away every shred of dignity. They weren’t a father and son anymore; they were just two competing animals vying for a scrap of my attention.
As I reached my peak, I screamed, my body arching. “Cum for me! Now!”
They both erupted instantly, spraying their loads onto the floor and my thighs, their bodies shaking with a violent, conditioned release. They collapsed at my feet, sobbing and gasping, completely broken. I looked down at them with utter contempt, knowing that tomorrow, I would just dive deeper into their minds and break them all over again
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