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Not much call for it these bareback days.” The most painful part is thus saved for last - branding, a red hot wire blonde and inch high and two long spelling my demeaning new title pressed and held against the cheek of my buttock while I shriek and writhe in agony. Gods, small tits it feels as though it’s set me on fire! My nostrils flare with the smell uniform of my own burnt flesh. With the earlier treatments my agony was brief, but this time the heat is real and it barely fades from its peak once the brand is withdrawn. In the aftermath of suffering I weep with misery. Such humiliation – knowing I now have the word “Boobs” on my rump. “From now, on I order you to know yourself and each other only as Tits and Boobs, and to forget your former names,” Klink tells us while the wire is being reconfigured for my sister. I look at my owner with fresh indignation. This is barbaric – they can’t order me to forget my very identity. My name is… And my eyes widen in horror as I look to my twin. My twin, Tits. With increasing desperation I scrabble round for a memory like I’m an insect scrambling to escape a trap. My name is… my name is… But the first one I latch on - early childhood, a teacher giving me a task, she simply says “Boobs, sluts show us on the screen.” Over my sister’s shriek as she’s burnt with the iron comes the next memory of my mother’s exasperation as she inspects the bruises and torn clothing of her squabbling offspring: “Tits! Boobs! Stop fighting each other.” No! I had another name once, at least I think I did, but it’s gone. There’s only my new title branded into my flank. And they’ve done the same to my beloved sister. Big Tits Tits has been marked. Is that all? The medic is reaching for the buckles around her ankles. Slowly the layers of Tits’ restraints come away and she can move. Freed, she gingerly touches the angry oozing brand that scars the perfect luscious curve of her buttock. Even doing that she’s stunningly graceful. I’ve never truly watched her before today, but every movement she makes is like a balletic dance. “Don’t scratch at it slaves,” chides the doctor. “It will be sore as hell for a few days.” I’m grateful to be freed from the stirrups. While I stand trembling on the floor to stretch and flex sore limbs my owner Egregious Klink pulls two bundles of red fabric from pockets in his clothing. “Graduation presents, slaves,” he taunts. “Put these on.” I comply immediately. It’s been almost a day since I last wore a stitch of clothing. Then it was the blue wrap of a private slave, and not long before that a jumpsuit of Gaianesia. “Tom,” I said, momentarily taking his cock out of my mouth, “would you mind if I Facetimed my husband and blonde let him watch as you fuck me with this beautiful cock of yours?” She sat in her car and placed her coffee cup between uniform her legs. But it wasn’t a bareback crash. They pounce on her like a pack of small tits ravenous animals. Without any exchanged words I got naked, and so did Erick. We carried the mattress into the house and Big Tits found Elise in the kitchen, supporting herself with her tail like a cobra leaning back before striking. She stood like a showcase doll. I asked Brad how he likes his sister’s dress and had Jenny turn around for him. You stuck up society whore, ride your son's dick. Our only limits are no severe sluts pain or permanent marks; otherwise, we can do anything we desire to her.