I could only take a few pumps into my pussy before I had to stop. I was breathing heavily and biting my bottom lip to contain my moans. Again per his ...irections, I sucked on the handle of the hair brush tasting my musky, sweet juices. It was so hard to focus on spreadsheets and conference calls when I got back to my desk. All I could think of were his words, the throb of my clit, and the wetness flowing out of my slit. Every time he called me his 'pain slut' my clit throbbed. He was in my head. He didn't feel inhibited by their bond of kinship. His penis was getting heavy, but he didn't care. Deana wouldn't, either. That invisible line on a sister's body that he should avoid crossing, it had been erased.The massage advanced quickly from sensual to erotic. Evan searched, using Deana's purrs to guide him to the sensitive nooks that made her moan. Once he found a pleasure spot, he intensified his efforts. His cock had dropped out the leg opening of his boxers, then erected. It was rigid. “That’s better,” he said, “Now then, I suppose you are wondering what your training will entail.”“Yes, Master,” she said, despondent.“Well, there are many ways and means to train a sex slave. But basically these methods fall into one of two general categories. They are either pain producing techniques or pleasure producing techniques. Each Master has their own philosophy on which works best, and you will get ample opportunity to experience both during your training. That way I can determine. But he's your son - I protested in my head, as I turned away from his spewing form and my own fingers dug into my gash. Just the same I had to admit in all honesty that my son was what my 'salty/sassy' mother would have said of hunks like him, beefcake: as in "wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with that beefcake!" Like mother, like daughter - highly sexual.I waited until he made his exit, it was as hasty as his entrance. I don't know if he knew that I knew what was going on, (but then if I.