This is Chapter 9 of the Cherry saga. This chapter has (believe it or not) darker themes than the others, including incest, impregnation, and slavery. There are likely to be trauma cues for sensitive readers. Reader discretion is advised.
And as always, I welcome community feedback in the comments or my DMs.
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Chapter 9: Sir Conquers my Family
Sir sat back in his high-backed chair and sipped his whiskey. Sir was a fan of Canadian whiskey, and he picked several expensive-looking bottles when he went to British Columbia to 'collect' the newest additions to his harem.
I stood at Sir's left hand holding a flat tray--at the moment, I was nothing more than a human nightstand. At Sir's orders, I had been growing my hair out in the months I've lived with him. My strawberry-blonde locks now framed my petite shoulders. To add to my humiliation, my hair was kept back by a French maid's bonnet. Traveling down my body, a sheer white top did little to cover my budding a-cup breasts. While I fully expected Sir to make me get implants soon, the hormones were already filling out my chest. A French maid's skirt framed my generous ass and hips. With the ruffles pushing the skirt out, my little dicklet hung out from underneath.
Sir had instructed me not to wear panties today. As my mother and sisters knelt naked in front of Sir and me, Sir wanted them to see what had become of their brother and son.
My brother Kyle, now "Kylie," stood at Sir's right hand. She was dressed in an identical French maid kink outfit, but with shorter hair. Kylie held one of the expensive Canadian whiskey bottles that Sir had picked up on his way to collect his new specimens. I seethed at how Sir probably saw my family as a series of commodities in the same way he saw the bottle in Kylie's hand. I was impotent at the moment, both literally and in terms of my agency, to do anything about it.
Three women kneeled in front of him, naked from head to toe. Sir had ordered them into a state of unconscious sub-space while he issued commands and orders that they would always follow, knowingly or otherwise. Despite my hatred for the man, I couldn't help but admire the nuance and subtlety that he wove into his programming. He had obviously thought this out. He covered every exemption to his orders against escaping or contacting the outside world. He even covered exceptions to exceptions of rules that I would never have thought of. It was little wonder that any of my own plans of escape met with instant failure. I was owned by a master who was much more intelligent, and who had much more foresight than myself.
Sir had previously used the same technique to "install" routines and programs into me. For example, I have no memory of the commands that my Master issued that changed my perspective of reality when he said, "Cock worship mode," or changed me into a thirsty slut when he said, "Slut mode." He had likely planted commands and routines in me that I was not yet aware of. And there I sat, holding a tray for his glass of whiskey and a small bucket of ice as he casually rattled off conditions and programs for my mother and sisters.
Sir never planned to hide his intentions. While he initially planned on giving me away to a client or investor, Sir had taken such a liking to me that he intended to keep me around to look after his house. Before he went out to collect the specimens in front of him, he was upfront about his long-term plans. Sir would program the trio to be perfect little trophy wives, then send them off for extreme plastic surgery and body modification ("bimbofication," as Sir would say with a laugh). Sir would then give them away as tokens of appreciation to generous investors.
After Sir spent about an hour giving complex commands, he took a break. "The programming depends on the subject's long-term memory. So I can't give them too many commands at once," Sir mused to Kylie and me, "that'll be enough programming for one day. Let's have some fun with our new toys in the meantime."
Sir moved his posh, crystal glass to his left hand and raised his right hand above his shoulder with his palm facing himself. Touching his thumb against his middle finger, Sir looked at my mother. He then at my sisters. My sisters were named Olivia and Lindsey, though I expected Sir to change those eventually. After examining the trio contemplatively, Sir turned toward me on this left, looking me up and down, then to Kyle on his right.
SNAP. The trio in front of Sir sprung into awareness at the snap of Sir's fingers. My mother and sisters shook their heads and opened and closed their eyes in bewilderment. After a moment, the three looked around, panicked. They squinted at Kylie, before widening their eyes; Sir had not yet subjected her to any body modifications, so she was recognizable as Kyle underneath the humiliating outfit and expertly-applied makeup. Olivia and Lindsey were dumbstruck; my mother tried to open her mouth to cry out, but her conditioning prevented her from speaking without permission. The women's realization that they were unable to speak or move from their kneeling positions further fueled their panic.
After lip injections, months of hormone replacement therapy, and my experience with cosmetics, they probably didn't recognize me as their son and brother, Caleb. Not that I would respond to that name anymore, anyway. Sir's programming had thoroughly erased my brain's connection to that name as an identifier.
As the women's panic increased at their predicament, Sir spoke up. "Ladies! Welcome to your new home for the next few weeks." Sir leaned forward in his chair, holding his glass against his knee. "As far as you're concerned, my name is 'Sir.' Here on my right," Sir gestured broadly, "is Kylie. You used to know her as Kyle. But you will never refer to her as that name again. I'm borrowing Kylie from her handler during your stay. She's going to help me keep an eye on you, and help you in your transition. Here on my left," Sir gestured toward me, "is Cherry. You used to know her as Caleb. But she keeps me company now. She's going to teach you about being a perfect trophy wife. Just like she is for me." I chirped as Sir reached over and pinched my ass cheek.
Terror filled the trio's eyes as they recognized me. I could see the realization that Sir had absolute power over our actions and appearance. Olivia and Lindsey looked down with dreadful anxiety. If Sir could turn their rebellious brothers into the spectacle before them, what could he do to them?
"Olivia, Lindsey, crawl over to me." I could see the confusion in my sisters' eyes as their hands and legs involuntarily crept toward Sir. I remember well the first time that Sir had given me a command, and that first, terrifying experience of my limbs moving without my consent. When both girls were in front of Sir, one in front of each knee, Sir looked around the room at the five of us.
"I want each of you to enjoy the next few weeks. Unless one of your new handlers brings you to a mutual party, it will probably be the last time any of you see each other. But first," Sir set his glass down on the tray I was carrying, "I have a game for the two of you." Sir reached forward and put one hand on the sides of each of my sister's faces. "I want to have a child. And I must say, your family has great genes. One of you is going to carry it for me, but I haven't decided which one. So we're going to play a game. You're going to take turns sucking my cock. You'll each get fifteen seconds at a time. Whichever girl makes me cum will be the lucky winner. After your training, I'll fuck the winner, and she'll get to stay here for the next nine months."
My sisters looked up at Sir with a mixture of fear and rage; tears filled their eyes. My mother furiously shook her head and moved her mouth, but was unable to do anything more. Kylie and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. Sir was a monster. An evil man. A kidnapper. A murderer. A rapist. And now, he was going to force one of my sisters, fresh out of college, to carry his child.
Rage built in my gut. I wanted to do something. I wanted to lift the glass and tray in my hands over Sir's head and bash his brains in. But my programming wouldn't allow me to move a muscle. And I knew that if my thoughts strayed too close to "escape," that my fallback programming would kick in and I would keel over in pain. I knew that I would need to bide my time, but I desperately wanted to kill that man.
Sir unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper. "No tears now, ladies." Olivia and Lindsey immediately stopped crying. Sir looked over at my mother, then down to my sisters. "Let's be grateful now, girls. I want you all to give me a smile." Each of the three women's lips turned up at the edges in a goofy, painted expression of glee. But none of their smiles reached their eyes.
Sir's erection spilled out of his pants, growing in size at his expression of power. "Olivia, I want you to go first. But start slowly. Give it some kisses and tell it how grateful you are for the privilege of sucking it."
Olivia leaned forward immediately--probably before she knew what she was doing--and kissed Sir's cock up and down the shaft. "Thank you," she slowly cooed through pouty lips, "thank you for letting me suck you."
"That's a good girl," Sir purred. After fifteen seconds, he pulled Olivia's face away and pulled Lindsey in with his other hand, "your turn, Love."
"Thank you," Lindsey mimicked through pouty lips, "thank you for letting me suck you." Beneath her painted, pouty smile, I could see rage and disgust burning in her eyes.
