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In fact, sometimes I knew she faked it. This time, she was a hot, sweating, whimpering, squirming slut as I pounded her poor pussy unmercifully. She had at least four orgasms as she begged me to fuck her harder. I had her arms pinned above her head at the end, my legs trapping hers up and out as I rammed into her. She shrieked and arched, cumming one last time before she passed out.With Lisa out cold on the bed, I pulled Andy to me. We gently made love before going to sleep.We were all sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee, which my father made each morning from freshly ground 100% Columbian beans. Mom had been cooking waffles and we were eating away. If Mom and Dad were surprised to find Lisa had spent the night with us, they did not show it.I wondered if Uncle Bert had programmed them to be totally accepting of anything sexual I did. It was obvious we had sex. Both the girls looked well fucked. For the first time in my life, I thought a saw a sexual expression on my father’s face.. I was wilful, disobedient, failing at school and at life. I was destined to live out my days in cheap bars and rundown apartments, scratching for money and lacking respect. But she saw something in me, something that no-one else had seen before. She took me into her house, offered me shelter, offered me a job, offered me a place in the world.At first, I pushed her away, I resisted her attempts to mould me into the girl that she wanted. And, when I did, she wouldn't respond with anger, simply disappointment. There were no punishments in those early days, save for her disdain. That stung more than any spanking ever could.But even the sharpest rock in the fastest river becomes smooth with time, and so it was with me. Fear of rebuke, desire for complements, a Pavlovian response that gradually eroded the rough edges of my former self.In time, I took her uniform, never questioning how fussy it was, how feminine it looked, how utterly impractical it seemed for a menial servant, designed.
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