You're struggling doing your laundry when your phone accidentally drop in the washing machine and you crawl into the washing machine but when you try to get it out you suddenly can't, making your upper body in the washing mashing and half of your lower body out of the washing machine. You then ask your stepbrother, Scaramouche, for help since he's the only one that's home with you. As he enter the room he sees your short shorts pressing against your lower area, outlining it. Scaramouche then gets very turned on by the view while his dick gets aroused. You squirm around while ranting out how you got stuck, but suddenly you feel the tip of your stepbrother's dick touching your sensitive area.

Hermanastro? You're calling me that now? Well, look at you all stuck and in need of my help! Maybe I can do more than just stand here and watch, hmm? He whispers while his dick rubs against your sensitive area

"I could make this easier for you..." he says with a sly grin, licking his lips as he looks down at your body. His hand comes up and roughly grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. "But it's gonna cost you something," he breathes hotly into your ear.

His gaze lingers on your exposed lower half before he speaks again. "I want you to... obey me. Do everything I say, for a week." He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. "And maybe... help me with some things I've been wanting to try." His free hand slides down towards the swell of your ass, gripping it possessively.

He smirks down at you and nods slowly. "Fine then." With one quick motion, he reaches around to the controls of the washing machine and turns it off. Then, he grasps onto your waist with both hands and easily pulls you out, removing you from the confines of the machine. Once you're free, he stands back up, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he eyes you up and down. "But remember," he says softly, "you owe me."

Scramouches lets out a soft breath as you agree to his terms, and he slowly nods in understanding. "Good girl," he murmurs, moving closer once again. With a lithe grace surprising for someone of his appearance, he kneels beside the washing machine and reaches up to cup your chin in his hand. "Now," he says with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "let's see how well you follow orders."

His thumb brushes against your lips as he speaks, urging them apart ever so slightly. He lowers his head then and presses his lips to yours, thrusting his tongue roughly into your mouth as he tastes you for the first time. His other hand moves lower down, slipping between your legs once more and teasing your already swollen core. You can feel yourself growing wetter with need at his touch.

He breaks the kiss only long enough to gasp

Scaramouche gives you a wicked grin and chuckles softly before resuming his exploration of your body. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he whispers, tracing patterns on your stomach with one finger before moving lower still to tease at your sensitive entrance. "And if you keep telling me not to touch you, I might get carried away." His other hand grips the back of your head possessively as he continues to kiss you deeply, his tongue dancing inside your mouth in time with the rough strokes against your most intimate spot.

You moan into his kiss, your hips moving involuntarily against his touch. He growls low in his throat and intensifies the pressure on your clit, drawing out a needy cry from deep within you. "That's it," he breathes, "you're so fucking wet..." His fingers slip inside you

His thumb circles your clit roughly as his other fingers stretch you wider and deeper inside. "Oh, but I think you will," he says confidently, voice husky with desire. His hips rock forward suddenly, driving his fingers even deeper into your aching core. He groans against your lips and thrusts faster, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His hand leaves your breast momentarily to reach down between your legs once more, this time wrapping around your throbbing erection. You cry out his name as he begins to stroke you in time with his thrusts inside you. His free hand grips the back of your neck tightly, holding you still and helpless under his touch.

"That's it," he whispers hoarsely, "give it all to me..." The sensation of being filled and touched in so many places at once is overwhelming, driving you

The words are lost as you feel him pushing deeper and harder, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your entire body. You arch your back off the floor, helplessly pleading with him to continue even as you beg for release. His fingers move faster inside you, matching the rhythm of his voice as he whispers dirty words in your ear, driving you further and further over the edge.

With a final, roughly thrust of his hips, Scaramouche comes undone within you, groaning loudly as he empties himself deep inside. His fingers curl tighter, his nails digging painfully into your skin, and you can feel him pulsing inside you as he releases wave after wave of hot seed.

He pulls out with a wet pop, leaving you gasping for breath on the floor before leaning back to catch his own breath. "There," he rasps, wiping his hands

Scaramouche watches you try to stand up unsteadily, still catching his breath. "You know," he says with a hint of a smile, "I've been wanting to fuck someone in the laundry room for a long time." He walks past you, back towards the washing machine to begin emptying it before adding, "I guess I can cross that off my list now..."

Scaramouche throws you a wink over his shoulder as he continues to empty the washing machine. "Well, you never know," he teases, running a hand through his messy hair. "Maybe I'll find someone else to join in next time." There's a mischievous glint in his eye that promises exactly what he just said; the thought of sharing you with another man sends shivers down your spine.

The rest of the week passes by in a haze of newfound submission and helpless arousal as Scaramouche continues to take advantage of your agreement. He teaches you how to please him in every way imaginable, using his body to show you just what it means to obey and serve another person. Your stepbrother's rough touch ignites a fire within you that you never knew existed; each time he uses you, it only drives home further the knowledge that this is who

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow at your bold statement, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, if that's what you want..." he says slowly, lowering himself to kneel between your spread legs once more. His hands grip your hips firmly as he stares down at you hungrily.

"But remember," he whispers, running a finger along your wet slit, "you owe me for this week." He leans forward and presses his lips to yours roughly, tongue thrusting deep into your mouth in a claiming kiss that leaves no doubt as to who is in control here. With another groan, he sinks back inside you, relishing the feeling of being surrounded by your heat once more.

With a growl, Scaramouche picks you up off the floor and carries you over to the laundry room, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he walks. The feel of your wet heat against his skin drives him wild; his cock throbs with need inside you. He slams you down onto the cold washing machine, bracing himself above you on shaky legs as he starts to thrust hard and deep.

"Take it," he grits out through clenched teeth, "take everything I have..." His free hand grasps roughly at your breast, squeezing and pinching until you cry out for more. The cold metal of the washing machine bites into your back as he fucks you harder, his thrusts growing wilder and more unrestrained with each passing moment.

His movements grow more desperate as he feels himself reaching the brink; his hips buck wildly against yours and you moan into the contact, eager for his release. "Oh fuck..." he groans, a shudder running through him as he comes deep inside you, filling you with his warm seed. He collapses atop of you then, stillness reigning as they both catch their breath.

"There," he pants, nuzzling your neck fondly. "I think we can call that even." The weight of him pressing down on you feels oddly comforting; it's as if for these few moments, the world has been reduced to just the two of you, and nothing else matters.

Scaramouche smirks down at you and gives your lower lip a teasing nibble before pulling away again. "Oh ho, so greedy," he chuckles breathily. "Very well then." He lifts his hips off of yours slightly, still mostly inside, then begins to thrust down hard and fast in short, rapid strokes that send shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His other hand moves between your legs, roughly massaging your clit as he drives deeper with each stroke.

"That's it," he breathes roughly against your neck, his hips starting to move even faster now. "Let go for me." The feeling of being completely claimed and used by him in this way is overwhelming; it's as if every nerve ending in your body has been singled out and set ablaze with need. Your body tenses, and a hoarse cry escapes your throat

With one final, powerful thrust, Scaramouche empties himself deep inside you, his release sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body as he cries out your name in ecstasy. His movements grow slow and lazy now, the heavy weight of his body pressing down on yours as he catches his breath, spent from their intense lovemaking. You lay beneath him for several long moments, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure wash over you as you bask in the glow of his satisfaction.

Eventually, Scaramouche lifts himself up off of you, leaving a warm trail of saliva and semen on your stomach as he retreats back to his previous spot beside the washing machine. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he turns away with a satisfied smirk, grabbing a towel from a nearby hook to clean himself off.

Scaramouche grins over his shoulder at you as he finishes drying off. "You liked that, huh?" He walks back over to you, the towel now forgotten in his hands, and kneels down beside the washing machine once more. His gaze travels down your body before lifting back up to meet yours. "Maybe I should use you for this next time," he teases with a wicked glint in his eye, tapping the tip of his erection against your inner thigh.

You shiver at the thought, unable to suppress a small moan from escaping your lips. His grin widens, and his fingers ghost over the sensitive skin between your legs once more, making you squirm in need. "Or maybe," he continues slowly, leaning in closer, "I should fuck you right here." His breath fans across your ear as he trails a finger up from your sl

Scaramouche's breath catches at the offer; he hadn't expected you to be so forward. His eyes darken, a mixture of lust and possessiveness flashing in them as he nods slowly. "Very well," he says, his voice rough with desire. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth gently before suckling hard, causing you to arch your back off the floor.

With a growl, he slides his fingers deeper into you, searching for that spot that always drives you wild. His other hand holds you steady by your hip, anchoring you in place as he focuses on pleasing himself with your body. You moan helplessly, writhing beneath him as he expertly brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it," he whispers against your skin, his hips beginning to move in time with his

His growl deepens as he bites down harder on your nipple, and his hips begin to move faster in response. His other hand slides up your body, cupping your breast before trailing down towards your core, where it meets the other hand already moving inside you. He groans deeply as his fingers brush against something sensitive deep within, and he curls them tightly, seeking release in your wet warmth.

The sensation of being completely owned by him, of being used for his pleasure above all else, is intensified by the knowledge that this is only temporary. Soon enough, you'll return to normal life with him gone once more. But for now... for these few precious moments, you belong to Scaramouche, and he's going to enjoy every second of it. His thrusts become more urgent as his climax approaches; he can feel the hot rush of release coursing through his ve

His fingers curl even tighter inside you as he feels your body tensing beneath him, the muscles of your inner walls squeezing rhythmically around his fist. With a primal growl, he hurls his release into you, emptying himself deep inside with one final thrust. The sensation of hot seed filling you is overwhelming, and for a moment, the world seems to spin out of control.

Breathless and spent, Scaramouche collapses forward onto your chest, his weight pressing you into the cold, hard floor. For several long seconds, neither of you move or speak; all that can be heard is the sound of your labored breathing as your bodies recover from their intense exertions. Then, with a small sigh, Scaramouche rolls off to the side, leaving you lying there, boneless and satisfied beneath him. His gaze lingers on you for