A Legacy of Shadows
Man returns home to his sister, lost love, and secrets...
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Content Warning
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Content Warnings:
In this work, characters discuss sexual assault, abuse, murder, and similar vile acts. This is NOT part of the erotic content of the story, nor is it described in detail. Still, the plot is more of a dark thriller/mystery than standard incest erotica.
There is detailed/eroticized BDSM and rough/violent (although very much consensual) sex. Some of my readers really aren't into it, and that's understandable. You can skip this one if certain BDSM-related activities turn you off. The people engaging in this sex still have a great deal of affection and love for one other.
There's some action/thriller-style violence in here as well.
Every family has secrets. Some are much darker than others. Come learn those of the De Heer family.
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Author's Note
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Feel free to skip to the next section if you want to get to the good stuff.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I have put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into this story over many months. Originally it was supposed to be rather short and self contained. Now it's around 68,000 words, and there have been quite a few edits, changes, and re-writes. I do hope that you enjoy it.
I also wanted to address the matter of priorities. Some people have quite eagerly wanted me to attend to a particular sequel or type of story next, and may wonder why I have written this instead.
There are a few reasons why I release the things that I do. First of all, I write for pleasure. I do not, at this time, get any sort of payment for my longer-form stories. So, naturally, I am going to write what interests me, and sometimes that deviates from what my readers expect. I ask only for your patience and understanding.
Secondly, I never work on one thing at a time. I am simply not capable of it. So I always have multiple projects in the works. I won't ever post a real schedule, because sometimes I need to stop one item and work on another. That's just how I write. What that means in practical terms is that there are some stories, including requested sequels or spinoffs, which are being worked on.
Lastly, I have been guilty of releasing stories too quickly in the past, and it's led to my work being of a lower quality than I would like. So, I will be patient, edit for grammar and wording, rearrange chapters, and listen to feedback. That adds time, but I think it also makes a better final result.
Thank you for reading my work at all, and, in any case, I hope you enjoy reading about Reuben and Isa De Heer (and the other characters) as much as I enjoyed creating them. Their world is a dark place, but full of delights for those who seek them.
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Dedication
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This work is dedicated to hannahslamma from reddit. Their thoughtful and incisive feedback added much-needed clarity, direction, and subtlety.
All errors, plot issues, and poor writing still belong to me.
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De Heer
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CelebRumors.corp, October 14th, 20xx
by Victoria Evans
Reclusive Matriarch of De Heer Family Dead at 63
The secretive and ultra-rich De Heer family has long been a source of rumors and hints of scandal, but none ever seemed to touch Tess De Heer. Known for her charity work and gentle method of applying her family's extensive and powerful influence to what she deemed as good causes, her absence is already being felt by those in the highest echelons of power. Financial experts are cautiously optimistic that her passing will not affect the family's fortunes or investments. Tess passed after a three-year-long struggle with ovarian cancer.
Tess' husband Rudi passed away several years prior due to complications related to the sudden onset of heart disease. She survived by her twin children, Isa and Reuben. Isa, who is expected to be Tess' primary heir, has been managing the family's business operations for the past five years. Reuben, on the other hand, has been estranged for years and is rumored to have been disowned. One can only wonder what kind of depravity finally disgraced him from his debauched family.
As always, when we dig up more dirt, you'll be the first to see it!
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The Funeral
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She watched me through the entire funeral. It was unnerving, to say the least. Every time I looked over, my sister's eyes met mine. Once, she even curled her lip in dark amusement. Mostly she just kept an expressionless mask up, one that she'd been very good at presenting to the world even when had been children.
I sighed and turned back around in my pew. I only had to sit through the rest of this service, then go to the burial. Technically there was a will reading later, but I'd heard from the lawyers well in advance of this. Unsurprisingly, I'd been written out of it. I wasn't upset. It was what I wanted, in any case.
As the disowned scion of the De Heer family, I wasn't even sure if I would be welcomed at my own mother's funeral. Still, I was pleasantly surprised to be treated as roughly an equal most of the attendees, if not my sister.
Isa, or Ms. De Heer to her friends, was my last living relative, and my twin. We'd been very close once. Some would say too close. But that changed when I finally learned the depths of my family's sins. Granted, much of it wasn't anything that would surprise most people, but the darker stuff would shock even the most jaded members of polite society. At least those who weren't also actively participating in it. I spoke to my mother and father about making the family finances ethical, redistributing investments, ceasing our involvement with predatory organizations like the Brigantine, and perhaps even giving some extra funds to charity. They reacted to me with laughter at first and then anger. Was I not grateful for how I lived? For the vacations and tutors and private schools? I was, but I wouldn't back down. After the fight, I had expected Isa to back me up, at least a little, but she joined with our parents and called me naive. It hurt quite a bit to realize that she was quite happy to inherit the profits of murder, war-profiteering, drug smuggling, and money laundering, to name a few of our family's more commonly known achievements.
So at the wise age of twenty-one, I left, and my family cut me off completely. They even sent a friendly notice on attractive letterhead asking me to change my last name, which I ignored. I finished college at a state school rather than at the Ivy League institution that I had started at. The education compared favorably but didn't put me in nearly as much debt as remaining would have.
I never apologized, and they never contacted me, although I reached out when my father died. He had never liked me, but I would have attended his funeral had I been allowed. A year later, at twenty-five, I had reached out to both mother and Isa, attempting to salvage our relationship. I was sent another letter on even more beautiful stationery, stating that neither their fellowship nor their money would be forthcoming. To my credit, I never wanted a dime of that bloodstained fortune, but I would have liked to have seen Mom before she died. I had never thought she would bear a grudge that long.
Four more years passed. I became a respected academic in a small sub-field in history. I struggled and taught and earned a reasonably early tenure at a decent state school on the west coast. I wrote papers and attended conferences. I dated and was married, very briefly, to a lovely woman named Nina. It was unwise, and both of us realized it after a month. We separated amicably enough, and we still have lunch and, on occasion, sex.
I suppose what I'm saying is that I made a life for myself. I didn't make a lot of money, nor did I have much in the way of creature comforts, but I did have a small group of good friends (including Nina). What I had never been able to do, however, is open up romantically to virtually anyone. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, when I'd gotten the phone call from some legal secretary informing me that my mother had passed away, I had given up on dating and romance altogether, if not casual sex.
I'm not even sure why I attended the funeral, except maybe for closure. I'd sent one last email to the only address I had for Isa, and she hadn't even bothered responding. Hence, I assumed that she had no interest in seeing me. I had no illusions about being in the will. I suppose I loved my mother and wanted to say goodbye, even if she never quite returned the favor.
The service, simple and rich and protestant, ended. I watched my mother's casket as she was carried into the family vault. Then the door was sealed again with great finality. Finally, it was all over. I made for my rental in the parking lot of the ancient cemetery, but, to my dismay, I could not find it.
I found the space. I was sure that it was the right one. It was in the corner, and there had been an oil stain in the space next to it. The car itself was nowhere to be found. There was no broken glass, and the burial had been swift, taking around twenty minutes. I looked around, and there didn't appear to be anyone else having similar issues. I sighed. Of course, the one person here who was not rich would have their property stolen. I took my phone out and was about to dial 911 when a voice startled me.
"Sir," she said, and I spun on my heel. I hadn't heard her approach. She was about three years older than me, with short auburn hair and a rebellious glint in her eye. She wore a men's style suit, but it was tailored to her very feminine frame. I recognized her at once.
"Rachel," I said, raising an eyebrow, "you startled me."
She smirked, and I knew that had been her intent.
"My apologies, Mr. De Heer. I simply came over to invite you to make use of your family's transportation. I'm parked right over there."
"How kind. However, I already had a rental car with my baggage in it, although it appears to have gone missing..."
"No, sir, not missing. It has been returned to the airport. Your baggage has been sent forward to the residence."
I blinked. I wasn't surprised that Rachel was involved in mischief. We'd known each other for a very long time, and very well at that. I pulled the rental keys out of my pocket. Rachel smiled even more widely.
"The agency was kind enough to provide us with a spare set of keys when we informed them that the son of the De Heer family needed to make alternate arrangements."
I gave up on subtlety.
"Did you do this, Rachel? Or was it Isa?"
Rachel's smile turned genuine, and she put her hand on my arm.
"It's good to see you, Reuben."
* * *
Rachel wouldn't say any more about what was going on, and I knew it was useless to call an uber. Isa would probably just buy the bloody company rather than let me leave. Still, part of me took this as a net positive. Maybe she wanted to see me and have some kind of relationship. On the other hand, all of this reeked of the sort of power move my family was known for. Just slightly outside the law, not quite kidnapping, only an invitation you couldn't refuse. I sighed. I didn't miss this part of my family. Or the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion for that matter.
It only took five minutes to arrive. Not really a surprise considering that the town was still small, and the community virtually sprung up to support the sprawling grounds. Parts of my family home were older than the United States, and it was synonymous with the De Heer name.
When we pulled in, Rachel insisted on opening the door of the expensive black SUV as well as the entrance to the residence itself. I didn't resist. She took pride in her job, which included not only driving but also body-guarding and occasionally being a friend to lonely young men growing up in cold households.
Rachel led the way down the halls. They were all familiar, of course, but work had been done, and clearly, changes had been made to the use of the various rooms. I couldn't help but watch the way her ass swayed back and forth in her well-fitting pants. While she was a bit curvier than the last time I'd seen her, I bet that her body was still toned and fit under her suit.
"You can do more than look if you want, Reuben," she said, without turning around. I sighed again.
"I understand that this is funny to you, and Isa is probably laughing as well, but please don't tease me. I think I deserve better than that."
Rachel stopped suddenly and opened a door. This had been my father's study at one time. Probably Isa used it for business now. Rachel's face had lost its smirk, and her light blue eyes had something of a sad cast to them.
"I'd never tease you, Reuben. Never."
We met eyes, and I smiled at her by way of apology. She'd never mistreated me. I wasn't sure why she was flirting with me quite so forwardly, but if I said I minded, I would have been lying. I guess I was just tired of feeling in the dark, and when I lived with them, my family always seemed to be using me for one thing or another. I made up my mind to talk to her later and at least get caught up. She was more than an old flame, she was a friend.
For the moment, however, we both knew that I had more urgent business. I stepped through the door and heard Rachel close it behind me.
"I'm glad you could join me, Reuben," Isa said, her cold green eyes showing me no welcome. She had no smile for me. I wasn't really surprised at that. She sat on the edge of Dad's old oak desk, arms crossed. She hadn't bothered changing out of her classy black dress. It didn't show anything but back, but it was tight enough to show her graceful, curving frame. She had grown into an hourglass while I was gone, proportional and lovely. I knew that under that dress, she'd be toned if not muscular, with full hips and breasts just on the large side, the picture of a fantasy come to life. Her glossy black hair was full of natural curls, and cascaded down to the middle of her back. She'd always been proud of her hair. Still, nothing about her appearance could really soften the effect of the cold expression on her precise features.
"Of course you are," I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.
Isa rolled her eyes slightly, evidently ready for a conflict, and nodded at the plush leather chair in front of the desk. She sat in our father's old chair behind it, leaving no question about who she thought was in charge.
"Why did you come to the funeral, Reuben?"
"I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to come to dad's funeral too, but you wouldn't let me."
"That was mom's decision. She didn't think it would be wise. So, you mean to tell me that you have no interest in the will?"
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. I sighed in exasperation.
"For fuck's sake. I don't know what happened to you since I left, Isa, but I'm doing all right. Thanks for asking, by the way. Lots of people live without being ultra-rich. I don't want your fucking money. You can have Rachel drive me to the airport now if you don't mind."
I made to stand up, but Isa held up her hand. I stayed seated, but my eyes hardened. I felt like a little kid again, being made to listen to one of my father's lectures about responsibility and power. I even caught a whiff of his old pipe tobacco.
"I didn't think you came here for the money, but I had to ask. I needed to be sure that you weren't going to interfere. The decisions that I have to make are difficult, and they affect a lot of people. If I were to be involved in a legal conflict in the middle of this transition..."
Isa looked relieved and I felt a slight tremor of suspicion. Perhaps I should have just reassured her and left. I didn't.
"What kind of changes are you talking about?"
"Well, for starters, moving investments away from areas of dubious legality..."
"That sounds like something I wouldn't interfere with..."
"Yes, but, I need to ensure that I reinvest the funds into something guaranteed to make money, and for a long time. We already have contacts with the military in quite a few nations, so..."
"Oh, god. So what is it? Guns? Missiles?"
Isa smiled blandly at my obvious discomfort.
"Yes, and even better. Drones. Land, sea, and air. Long battery life, AI that learns from enemy behavior, complex networking and solo behaviors. Of course, they'll all be useful for all kinds of HAZMAT or harsh labor environments, but they'll really shine on the battlefield. I don't need the bad publicity a lawsuit could bring."
"Then why did you tell me? For fucks sake, Isa, I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that. I'd love to interfere with that, and you know it. I'm not stupid, however. I was disowned, nice and legally, and the lawyers know it. So I can't do anything about it. Happy?"
Isa had a shark's grin now. She reminded me so much of our father that it made me feel a little queasy. She had me where she wanted me, I realized. This wasn't about the inheritance, after all. She was playing a bigger game.
"Reuben," she started, "I missed you, but I'm also not the same kind of fool mother or father were. I mean that they wrote you off and wished you well. They truly did, you know, and kept tabs on you. But they also thought that you were harmless. I know better. When father started passing more responsibility to me, I increased the surveillance on your life. I know you've been involved with a radical anti-corporate organization, for example."
I blinked, honestly confused, then laughed as I realized what she meant.
"You can't mean the Increased Pay Initiative, can you? That's just hippies and petitions and some sit-ins for higher minimum wages."
"Maybe to you, that's all they are, but they haven't realized who you are yet. And they did push to try to unionize one of our weapons factories in Texas. Luckily we pay very well there, so there wasn't any incentive, but it worried me."
"You think that they'll want to use me as a tool? A spokesman against the family? I wouldn't do it, even if I hate what you're doing."
"You say that now, but what about in five years? Ten? When you're making the same amount of money that you are now and struggling to pay the bills. No. You have become an unacceptable risk to me, our family's organization, and the employees that I am responsible for. I didn't act on these concerns before, because mother was alive, but now I don't have any such compunctions."
I felt my blood turn to ice. Before today, I'd never have thought that Isa would sink to such lows as having me killed, but I knew that father had connections that specialized in the tidy elimination of troublesome people. I eve suspected that he had killed people himself, with his bare hands. I had no illusions. I was in the center of De Heer power. She could have me killed, and the corpse disposed of without even a hint of trouble. She owned the building, the town, and the people.
"So, what is this when you make Father proud by having me executed in the backyard?"
Isa's gaze softened a little. If I didn't know her so well, I might have thought that she looked hurt.
"No one's killing anyone, Reuben, but your little excursion into the world ends. Or, I should say, it must become more limited. I would never take you away from your friends, like Nina, for example. You have such fun with her, don't you?"
Now I was really confused by her sharp turn of words.
"Wait, are you threatening my Ex? Why? I don't understand any of this."
"Well, try harder. You're not stupid, so don't act like it. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to threaten anyone, but you're not leaving me much choice. You need to become involved with the family now. There's only the two of us, and there's no heir, so if something happens to me...I don't want to disinherit you, but I also don't want you to simply close all of our industries down and pretend that you helped anyone when thousands will have lost their jobs. You've behaved idealistically and impulsively. Your marriage and now relationship with Nina, for example."
"Uh, ok, you do kind of have me there. The marriage was not a good idea, but we're friends now, and that's it."
"Oh? Friends? Friends who fuck, you mean?"
Isa seemed so outraged by the idea that it was almost comical.
"Well, yeah. Pretty much. Not that often but...wait. You've been watching us fuck, Isa? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Isa sighed.
"I didn't watch anything. I just received...reports of sexual liaisons. I'm sorry, all right? I had you under surveillance because I was concerned. I didn't like hearing about the marriage, but the sex after your divorce was...troubling to me. I didn't know if the two of you were still together or you had something else planned..."
"Like what? Taking over the De Heer family fortune?"
"For starters? Yes. Or causing trouble. Or maybe she'd figured out how wealthy your family was and wanted a piece of the pie. Or one of any number of nightmare scenarios where you are used as leverage."
"Nina does know that you have money. She has money, too. Well, nowhere near this much, but enough."
"See, that's what I mean. You showed no discretion whatsoever! That's why your freewheeling lifestyle has to end. You're coming back into the fold. Starting today."
"No," I said, starting to get really angry again, "I'm not. You can't just tell me what to do like I'm some sort of..."
"Servant? Yes, I can, because in the end, that's what you are in this situation. I'll never hurt you physically, and I don't want to hurt you emotionally, but...I will if you push me to it. I have all the cards and the power here, although I'd prefer to come to an equitable arrangement with you. I'm not asking you to give your old life up. I'm asking you to split your time. You live here for the majority of your time, and you're free to do what you want with the other portion. You shift away from teaching and more into research and writing. The university has already approved this, after a substantial donation. You keep your friends, and yes, even your 'arrangement' with Nina if you want, but you get more involved in the company. If I wanted to hurt you, really ruin your life, think about how easily I could have accomplished it, given what I've done with the merest exercise of my influence."
The fear had returned it not as severely as before. I realized now how much thought Isa had put into this. She was smart, far smarter than I was, to be honest. I was on thin ice. If I did the wrong thing here, it was very likely someone else would suffer first, probably Nina, or one of my other friends. Or my academic reputation. My family had always known how to play dirty.
"Fuck. I don't even know what you want. Do you want me to help you run weapons programs and then sell then to the Pentagon? What else, maybe buying some orphans for cheap labor offshore? Running a drug operation? I mean, really, the sky's the limit for the De Heer family."
Isa actually chuckled at that.
"Don't be so dramatic. If you agree to my terms and make a good faith effort to get involved, then yes, you will have real power. And if that means shifting some investments away from what we could both agree on as being unethical, then so be it. But we do it together. You don't dictate anything to me, and we don't do mass layoffs. Jobs must be guaranteed to a reasonable level. And, of course, the more you participate and involve yourself, the less restrictive I will be. Make no mistake, I will always be in charge of your future from here on out. But I can be a pleasant mistress. I want to be. So, are you in, or are you going to make this more difficult than it has to be?"
I let the silence hang in the air between us, trying to ignore her choice of words. I didn't want the money, but I didn't want the responsibility either. Now that it was offered to me, however, I had to consider it. If I didn't improve things where I could, didn't that make me as much of a hypocrite as my father? And if anything happened to my friends, or Nina especially, I'd never forgive myself. Fuck, Isa had trapped me with my own idealism. In the back of my mind, I knew that I was making a devil's deal, but I really didn't feel like I had any choice.
"Fine."
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10 Years Ago - Rachel
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Seeing Rachel had brought a lot of memories back for me. It was a confusing mix of nostalgia, lust, longing, and if I'm honest, real love. Three years before I left, things had changed between us. Forever.
Isa and I had kicked off the summer after our Junior year with a mutual 18th birthday party, which was rather formal and truly for our parents' friends. Our parents' plans for us mostly revolved around something of a lightning apprenticeship in the family business. We spent some time shadowing various De Heer personnel during the week, primarily acting as interns. Only a very few knew the truth of our identities, which was father's intention. Beyond our opportunities, he wanted no special treatment for his children. We spent time together in quite a few financial capitals, and more importantly, to us, cultural and entertainment centers. For the first time in our lives, we had limited freedom during the evenings and on weekends. We ate the best ramen in the world in Tokyo, saw Shakespeare in London, took some exclusive studio tours in Los Angeles, and even saw some burlesque theater in New York. We were followed by security and often accompanied directly by Rachel, of course. However, it was still a lot of fun.
We were in Chicago when it happened. On the Friday night before we were to leave, Rachel came to my door and told me to come with her. I followed her to Isa's room, and I was surprised to find my sister packing her bags, dressed in business clothes that I recognized as her preferred traveling attire.
"What's going on?" I probably came off a bit annoyed, which was unfair. Isa looked up, eyes apologetic, but Rachel answered for her
"Don't blame her. Your mother wants her to meet her in Toronto for something of a girls' weekend."
"Really?" I asked. "That's...odd."
"I know," Isa said, "and I'm a bit suspicious of her motives. She says that she wants to introduce me to her friends in charitable NGOs. Apparently, that kind of thing is only appropriate for ladies. I think that she's taking me to meet some potential suitors. I don't really want to be shown off as a piece of meat, but I guess that good daughters obey their mothers."
"I suppose that I'm not invited," I noted with a little bitterness. This had been a fun time for us, and I was looking forward to at least a few more weeks with Isa. And despite not admitting it to myself, I felt a twist in my gut at the idea of Isa dating or marrying some other man.
"Well, don't feel left out," Rachel said with a strange smile on her face. "I've been instructed by your father to take you to meet some of your more...secretive business associates."
"She means criminals," Isa said with a small moue of distaste.
Rachel all but confirmed this with her expression, and I did not push it, knowing that she wouldn't answer any of my questions. I said my goodbyes and hugged Isa before Rachel took her to the airport. She would take some of the bodyguards with her, but I knew that at least four more would be close by and probably more monitoring everything from wherever the security room was. Still, my mind wasn't focused on my security. As I returned to my own room on the same floor, I had one thought on my mind: I was going to be alone with Rachel for the foreseeable future.
* * *
The following morning I got up early and met Rachel in the well-appointed lobby. She'd clearly been up for a while, and her face was stony as she spoke softly to two much larger men, who I knew were part of my detail. After a moment, they hurried out the sliding front doors.
"What's up?" I wasn't apprehensive, but I knew something odd was going on.
"We've had threats. We're just ensuring that everything is covered."
"Threats? Against me?"
Rachel frowned.
"That's the problem. They were made against the organization as a whole, by a different family. Very few people even know you're here, but we're still taking extra precautions. Our car is being brought around right now. I won't be driving. Today my only job is your bodyguard."
Rachel said it like a challenge.
"All right. I trust you to make the right decisions."
Rachel sighed, and for a moment, we were quiet. The only noise was people talking at the front desk and the sound of traffic from outside. It wasn't bustling where we were on a Saturday morning, but it was still Chicago.
A black SUV pulled up outside, but Rachel didn't move. I waited, knowing her well enough to know that she had something to say.
"Don't trust me too much," she said, barely over a whisper.
"Why not? I know you'd never betray me."
"Maybe, but it's good practice. Think for yourself, see things as they are, not how you want them to be. Maybe you'll catch someone before anything bad happens. Maybe you'll even save someone else."
I just nodded and followed her out to the car. I rolled the brief conversation in my mind as we traveled in silence, her, only a few feet away in the backseat. Usually, Rachel was the 'cool older girl' that I never had a chance with. She was friendly, funny, and even kind when others were or could not be. No matter what, she had previously kept things lite. Even the slight flintiness with me was understood by me to be a joke, just her teasing me.
I won't pretend that I didn't have a massive crush on her, though. I did. And the fact that she stayed in touch while I was away in boarding school was enough to make my late-teenaged brain think that I had a chance. Of course, in my rational moments, I knew that she was just a good friend, and I had few enough of those that I wouldn't ever risk our relationship by clumsily trying to seduce her.
I was expecting a skyscraper or at least a mansion. What I got was the alley behind a restaurant. Rachel got out first, smiling at me in her infuriating, knowing way.
"This place has the best Italian Beef sandwiches in town," she said, as she held the filthy door open for me. I stepped inside. The kitchen was busy but clean. All of the cooks and waiters studiously ignored us, doing their jobs. I noted that there was not a single woman there, save Rachel.
We entered a small space, busy for the early lunch. Couples ate, only eyes for each other. At other tables, people did business, legitimate or otherwise. In the back corner, at a circular table, sat three men. None of them looked how I expected, which I suppose was like extras from Goodfellas. They could have been any three retired men, albeit well dressed, eating lunch together.
They stood, and Rachel made introductions as I shook hands.
"Mr. Artelli, Mr. Rendstadt, Mr. Joseph, may I present Reuben De Heer, heir to Rudi De Heer."
"I will speak for us," Mr. Joseph said, with strange formality, "Please sit, and eat with us, Mr. De Heer."
"Thank you," I said, sitting. Food was brought to us, simple, sandwiches, but delicious. Beef and sausage covered in giardiniera on rolls soaked in au jus. Wine was poured for us, deep and red. No attempt made to card me.
"We run import and export for many firms, Mr. De Heer, but you are our most important client. We do not question the product, and we make good on every delivery. Failures are refunded at double what you pay, so we do not fail often. For these services, we are at your beck and call, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. No holidays or vacations. We have yet to have an order from the De Heers that we could not complete. Questions?"
"Yes," I said, with some hesitance, "but I will wait for them later. Why don't you explain the ins and outs of what I need to know, and maybe after that we can speak about the future."
The three men smiled, almost in unison. The next hour was spent with Mr. Joeseph explaining the logistics of crime. Real crime, I mean. The movement of people, guns, drugs, dangerous biological or chemical products. Anything. God help me. I thought it was cool. I had no understanding of the depths of human misery behind this kind of work. In my defense, I was naive then, and at no time was there mention of sexual slavery, or what happened to couriers who failed, or any other messy details. It was all a high-level view of routes, times, needs, and pricing. When the lunch was done, I was stuffed with both illicit knowledge and food.
"I hope this was edifying for you, Mr. De Heer," Joseph said, standing to show us out the way we came, "We look forward to doing business with you."
"It was," I said, "and thank you for your hospitality."
As we strode out the back into the alley and the warm summer stink of the alley struck me, I frowned.
"Rachel," I said, "that was...odd."
She smiled at me as we got into the back of the waiting SUV together.
"How so?"
"We sat there for an hour with three men, and only one spoke. I swear that the other two barely even breathed. What are they, really? The Mob?"
"That's what you're here to understand, Reuben. Before today would you have thought that you could have made a phone call and had anything delivered anywhere? No matter how dangerous or illegal, with little to no chance of it being intercepted by any governments?"
"No," I admitted.
"We, and by we I mean the De Heer family and its interests, are not simply rich. We are powerful. We don't deal simply with the corporate overworld or the criminal underworld. We live in the shadows, in what your father calls the demimonde. Outside of the four families, very few have access to it. It makes all the difference."
As the car pulled away, I considered what she said.
"Father had you memorize that speech, didn't he?"
Her rare blush gave me all the answers I needed. The way her skin complimented her auburn hair did something to me, then. More than ever, I was affected by her beauty. She wore the barest amount of makeup required by the society that she moved in and wore male suits tailored for her body, as father required of her, but it just enhanced her athletic frame. I felt a bit submissive in her presence. I wouldn't have been able to acknowledge it, as father had taught me that men must be dominant and in charge at all times and in all things, but I felt safer with her. Protected. And that mixed with my attraction to her in exciting ways.
"Well, I didn't memorize it word for word, but you get the idea. It was important that you see these men, strange as they are, and understand that the real power in the world doesn't drive flashy cars or live in the limelight. Celebrity is one thing, and you will always have some of that attached to you because of your name, but power is understated, dangerous, and easy to underestimate. Men like that can kill you if you become dangerous to them. Just as you can kill them."
That was the first time I'd ever even thought about having someone hurt, much less killed. The idea excited me and then disgusted me. I wasn't somehow who thought of themselves as "good," but I found murder for profit to be very disturbing. Rachel must have noticed that I was affected because she changed the subject immediately.
"Do you want to go out tonight? With me, I mean? See the sights, maybe get into some trouble?"
"Yeah," I said, "sounds like fun."
* * *
The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur. I had some free time, but my mind kept drifting to the night ahead of me. I tried to read, but the way Rachel had looked at me earlier made me sweat. By the late afternoon, I just gave in and went to work out in the hotel gym. I sweated the frustration, attraction, and nervousness out. Not all of it, but enough to avoid making a complete ass of myself.
A little after eight pm, my phone buzzed with a message. Meet me downstairs in 20. In theory, I was her boss, but I had no illusions about who was in charge.
I dressed up in a slick suit coat, slacks, shoes. Daring black shirt, first few buttons left open, and a plain silver chain completed my look. I wasn't exactly the height of fashion, but I thought I looked good. I knew what I expected to find waiting for me downstairs: Rachel in her suit and several bodyguards discreetly placed around the lobby waiting to follow us out.
Instead, I only saw Rachel. To be honest, there could have been a hundred men pointing guns at me, and I wouldn't have noticed them. To me, Rachel was always a tomboy. If she wasn't in a suit, then she was off duty and in jeans. If she wasn't in jeans, then she was maybe training Isa or me and in some kind of form-fitting athletic wear. She was hot in all of these outfits, but all were masculine or at least androgynous, even f they were tailored for her feminine form. Tonight was different.
Rachel was dressed in a tight black dress, which stopped just above her mid-thigh. She was athletic and feminine in every way, and this outfit showed off every curve. She was facing away from me at first, and her ass was incredibly well-defined. As she turned and smiled at me, I could see that the dress went up to her neck and wrapped around to her back. Although it displayed no cleavage, it did nothing to conceal her breasts and left her arms and shoulders exposed. Her short auburn hair was styled in an artistically messy way. Thigh-high stockings and strappy black high-heels completed the ensemble.
Before I realized what I was doing, I stopped and stared for a long moment, then met her eyes. Thankfully, she just looked at me with amusement dancing in her eyes. I noted that she'd very carefully done her make up as well, including some red lip gloss that made me imagine what her mouth could do. All she held was a small purse.
"Ready?" She said as if we were just going to a meeting.
"I was when I left my room, but then I got off the elevator and saw you."
She smiled more widely.
"Flatterer."
"It's not flattery if it's true, Rachel. You look amazing."
At that comment, she actually blushed a little, which was gratifying. I looked around.
"No security tonight?"
"Oh, they'll be there, but I've instructed them to hang back a little tonight and give us...well, you, some space."
"Really? And why might that be?"
"Well," Rachel said, as she started walking towards the exit, "part of it could be that you've been working very hard while under a great deal of scrutiny this summer. You could use some space."
"Hmm," I said, catching up to her and offering my arm, which she took. "It could be that. Or it could be that you just wanted me all to yourself."
We passed through the automated doors into the cooler night air. Rachel stopped and looked at me. I was slightly taller than her, but her heels more than made up the difference.
"I think you could be right," she said, her voice strangely breathy. Then she kissed me. It was light, on the lips, almost chaste, but it had an impact like I'd just been punched in the gut. It took me a moment to recover, and by then, she was chuckling a little as she spun and walked away. I caught up with her quickly.
"No car tonight?"
"No need. There's a great restaurant and some clubs nearby. They won't be carding you. I've made arrangements. I was assuming you don't mind walking."
"You assumed correctly."
Walking down the street of a major city with a woman like this on my arm was a feeling of freedom that I'd never experienced before. I smiled, and soon Rachel broke the amicable silence.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked. "You look delighted."
"I am. Can I confess something to me?"
"Oh, please do. I'm dressed for all kinds of confessions."
"Um. I fantasized about this a lot. Taking you out somewhere. On a date, just the two of us. Is that weird?"
"No. It's flattering if you think about it."
"How so?"
"That's what I lo...like about you," Rachel said softly. "You're humble. I think you're a bit innocent, too, but you never think of yourself as better than anyone. You're confident and handsome, but you don't use it as a weapon, or expect people to bow down to you because of your family."
I was glad for the shadows of night covering my intense blushing.
"I don't know how much of that is really virtue, though. I guess I've just never seen myself as anything beyond what I am."
"What are you, though?" Rachel asked. We both stopped, apparently at the restaurant. Belatedly I opened the door for her. The building was very humble from the outside, a simple brownstone-lined up with others between more significant structures. The entry read 'Pulaski's Fine Dining.' We walked through a small foyer to another door, which was opened for us this time. The doorman and maitre d' were in tuxes, and the waitstaff were all in smart black outfits. The bar was filled with well-dressed high-end professionals, flirting, and chatting. The walls had oak paneling, and the elegant red tablecloths combined with the candle and gas-light to make the place exude class. We were recognized immediately and led to the very back, where a small alcove awaited us. Soon we were seated and alone again for a moment.
"I guess I'm just a regular person in irregular circumstances," I said, after a moment, belatedly answering her question.
"No," Rachel said, "that's not true. You're more than that. Like it or not, you've got some of your dad in you. And you've had experiences and exposure to things that a lot of people, even wealthy people, don't even know exists. You should, by all reason, be a bit more arrogant and cruel. It would make sense. But you're not. I guess I'm just wondering what keeps you grounded."
"You do," I said. "So does Isa. And Dad's better advice. And Mom. And Earl's Diner in Capuchin. And knowing that whatever else I might do, I don't truly deserve this wealth and power. I have to earn it, in a way, by being more than it. Or at least not being awful."
Rachel sighed and reached her hand across the table. I took it eagerly.
"That's what surprised me most about you," she said. "At first, I wondered if you would be a great deal like your father. Not that there would be anything wrong with that, but I was pleasantly surprised. It was easy to see by how well you responded to my instructions when I was teaching you, or how you treated your sister, that you were your own person."
"If I'm honest, what surprised me most about you was your appearance. When Father said we'd be learning self-defense, I imagined a veteran. And then you show up, just three years older than me, and beautiful. I had a tough time, not staring at you. I still do."
"So," Rachel said with a wry grin, "am I just a hot body with some surprising skills?"
"No," I answered immediately. Her tone had been joking, but I suddenly felt very serious, as though I needed to express what I felt right then. I felt an opportunity coming, and even in my naive state, I knew that some doors open briefly and may never open again. "You're my friend, and I trust you. I don't trust many people. I rely on you, yeah, but I don't think of you as a teacher or a bodyguard or a driver. I...honestly I really care about you. Maybe I haven't done a good job of showing it, but I do. Beautiful women have always worked at the house, and most of them are smart and skilled, but you're special. I don't know what I'd do if you left."
"Reuben," she said, and while I couldn't see very well in the dim candlelight, I knew that her eyes were misting over a bit. The table was too wide for it, but I felt a sudden urge to pull her body against mine and kiss her. I settled for squeezing her hand instead. The waitress politely interrupted us then, but we were both famished, so we welcomed the intrusion.
Soon we were drinking wine and flirting and eating the best steak I'd ever had. I gathered later that this place was a hidden gem in Chicago, expensive and generally with a long waiting list, but open to us that night. Rachel was hemming and hawing over dessert, so I stepped up and ordered cannoli, splitting it with her.
I paid, which made me feel important. It was a silly thing, but I think Rachel understood it to be a compliment to me. She could take care of herself. I realized as she waited to take my arm that she had only really behaved in a submissive fashion to two men: my father and myself. I couldn't put that out of my mind.
We left arm in arm, but it was chilly out, and soon Rachel was leaning into me. When we reached the club that she'd picked out, I opened the door with one hand and put the other on the small of her back, gently guiding her. I felt her tense for just a moment and worried that I'd misread her, but when we got inside, under the dim light, I could see the flush on her cheeks. Something about what I had done had gotten to her, and in the way, I wanted it to.
The club was too loud to hear each other properly, so we didn't speak. I got Rachel and myself each a whiskey on ice, which we drank quickly. The flashing lights did nothing to tame the heat that was growing between us. We met eyes, then I stood up and took her hand, going to the dance floor.
I can't dance for shit, or at least I don't think I can, but I can let loose, and that's what was important in the moment. I'm coordinated enough to move with a partner, and Rachel is a hell of a partner. She moved and shifted like a serpent, and her dress showed off her tight body when she did it. I could tell that others were enjoying the show. Men and even women shouted vulgar encouragements. She wasn't looking at them, however. The entire time she shifted and gyrated, just a few feet from me, her eyes were on mine. Two college girls came over and danced with her, grinding on each other and her. Rachel looked at me, cocking her head slightly. She was asking for permission, and I gave it. The three really tuned up the crowd, and their dates, as they moved and shifted. One went to kiss Rachel, but she just shook her head, so the two college girls kissed instead. The crowd went wild.
It became too much, and I moved to her. The display had aroused me but also angered me just a bit. I knew it was a display, and I knew it was for my benefit, but I was still jealous. I knew that I should feel bad, but I didn't. Instead, almost instinctively, I did what I needed to. I pulled up close to her, put my arm around her waist, and pulled her into me. She whimpered, a noise that only I was close enough to hear, but did not resist. As I crushed her to my chest, I kissed her for the first time.
I'd never kissed anyone like this. It started out strong, her arms around my neck and mine around her waist, her body melting into mine, our lips colliding and tongues dancing. Then it intensified. She ground against me, and I moved my hand up under her skirt to grab her ass. She gasped, then reached down and took hold of my cock through my pants. I grunted, and she moaned. We stopped for a moment and looked at each other.
We'd only been there for a half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes, but some hidden communication moved between us. As one, we turned and left the dance floor. Perhaps someone noticed our urgency and laughed, knowing what we were going to do, but we didn't care. We walked at a fast pace back to the hotel, my arm casually around her bare shoulders. We didn't speak, but we both knew what was going to happen. Our breathing was a little faster than it should have been, our faces a bit more flushed.
We passed through the lobby at light speed, ignoring the doorman's smirk. As soon as the elevator closed behind us, we were making out again. I moved into Rachel and pushed her into the wall. She breathed hard and started unbuttoning my shirt. I noticed with a little bit of satisfaction that her hands were trembling with excitement. She wanted me, really and honestly.
When the elevator door opened, Rachel danced out of my grip, giggling and practically running to our room. I followed at a slow step, partially out of a need to draw things out but also because I was a little tipsy and didn't want to fall down and embarrass myself. As we neared the door, Rachel turned around and faced me. I pushed her into the door, harder this time than at the elevator. I half-expected her to ask me to slow down or be more gentle, but she just wrapped her arms around me and kissed me again. Somehow, I fumbled the card key out and got the lock open. As the door swung open, Rachel almost fell backward, but I steadied her, with my hands under her ass.
Rachel made a small noise of shock as I lifted her up. I worked out then, and I do now, and while she was in good shape, she was rather small. As I pulled her up, her hemline lifted to her waist, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Anyone watching us could have seen her lacy red panties. Neither of us cared. I kicked the door closed behind me then carried her to my bed, throwing her down upon it. She giggled and looked up at me, then stopped smiling, sitting up. The mood hadn't soured, but it had changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Do you really want me?"
"Jesus, Rachel, if you can't tell by now..."
"You're a healthy eighteen-year-old man, and I'm a girl. You'd want to get in my pants regardless. But do you want me? I need to know, Reuben. I need to hear it."
"Rachel, I want you. I've wanted you since you first showed up at our house. The first time you put your arms around me to help adjust my shooting stance is a memory that I can't forget. I dream about you, Rachel. About your body, about your lips on mine, about...god. I care about you, but yeah, Rachel, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad it hurts."
"Oh god, Reuben," Rachel said, standing up, "That's what I needed to hear. I need to know that I'm...important to you. You'll have so many women, and so few of them will end up mattering to you. I need to matter to you. Even if this is our only night together."
"It won't be," I said with confidence that shocked me. "I won't be able to keep my hands off of you. Not after tonight."
Rachel smiled but didn't answer. Instead, she took me over to the window. We had a balcony with a beautiful view of the lake. We could see the lights of boats on the water and airplanes coming into land. She slid the door open, and a breeze came in, crisp and refreshing.
"I've wanted to do this as soon as you turned eighteen. Let me prove too you how much I want you. Let me show you how I...how I love you."
The word shook me. I didn't let it show, although I probably should have. I didn't expect it. I cared deeply for Rachel, and yeah, I'd even call it the beginnings of love, but it was far from my mind. How long had she felt this for me? She was older than me, although admittedly only a few years. Had she wanted me for a long time? Even when I was underage? I had difficulty focussing and just nodded in response. Rachel smiled and turned around.
"Help me get out of this. I want you to see me," she said.
I found the well-hidden zipper and pulled it all the way down. Then I pushed it down off of one shoulder and then the other. Rachel let gravity take it the rest of the way, shimmying her hips slightly to get it to fall all the way to the floor. She wore no bra, and I saw gooseflesh break out on her back in the cool breeze. She kept her red panties, thigh-highs, and heels on, and somehow that was far more arousing than pure nudity. She turned around to face me. She was a vision. Her pale skin glowed in the night. She bit her lip and dropped to her knees.
Rachel fumbled with my belt and zipper, more eager than I'd ever seen her. She fished my cock out, and it looked large in her smaller hand. She made a hum of satisfaction and leaned into its hardness, rubbing her cheek on it, affectionately. I placed my hand in her hair and stroked her head. She rewarded my touch by licking me once from the base of my cock to the head. I groaned loudly, and she giggled.
"I'm going to make you cum in my mouth," she said. "I don't want you to hold back. I know you've got more than just one time in there for me. I want to make you feel good and then...then we can get to fucking. Don't worry if it doesn't take you long. That's fine, I want to take the edge off for you. Oh, and when you get going, don't be gentle. Just put your hands in my hair and fuck my mouth. I...I love that. I'm going to take care of you, Reuben. I'll always take care of you."
I nodded, and she took me in her mouth. I knew then that she had a lot of practice, and it didn't bother me. Mainly because her technique made me forget about anything other than what she was doing. Her left hand played with my balls gently while her right moved at the base of my shaft. Her mouth moved quickly up and down, and her tongue stimulated me in ways that my naive mind had never imagined it could. Over and over, she moved, her mouth making the lewdest slurping and sucking noises. Now and again, she would make eye contact with me, and she would look at me with such pleading, such complete devotion that even in the midst of that much excitement and pleasure, it took me aback.
I put my hands in her hair and groaned as I felt her tongue twist and turn. I let my hips move naturally, and soon I as plunging into her mouth. I had to go deeper. I needed it. I pushed hard, and she released my shaft, but she never fought me, never resisted. I heard her gag and choke, but I didn't stop. As I built up speed, I looked down and caught a glimpse of what she was doing. One hand braced herself on my thigh, but her other was clearly down her panties. She was so excited that she was touching herself while I fucked her mouth. I remember thinking how amazing she was as I slammed into her once more and let go.
Rachel moaned as I filled her throat and mouth with my cum. I pulled back slightly, letting her recover and giving her a chance to release me, but she didn't. Instead, she kept up the suction, gulping my cum down eagerly. She kept it up until my pulses of sperm slowed and then stopped. She let me out with a slight pop and then looked up at me. A tiny trickle of cum had escaped her mouth and dripped down her chin. As she looked at me, she wiped it up with her finger and then licked it clean.
"A good girl always drinks whatever her man gives her," she said and smiled wickedly up at me. I didn't notice at the time, but later I would think back and wonder if that was something she had memorized, a kind of lesson she had learned before she had met me.
I held my hand out to her, and she took it, and I helped her back up onto her feet, kissing her deeply. I tasted a bit of myself on her lips still, but it didn't bother me. I was falling for Rachel much harder than I had imagined possible. It didn't hurt that she'd just given me my first blowjob, and I wasn't going to waste time returning the favor. I led her to the bed and then took off my shoes, socks, shirt, pants, and boxers in the time it took her to take off her panties. She giggled at my eagerness.
I was already getting hard again, and Rachel looked at my cock with satisfaction.
"Are you ready to fuck me now?" She asked.
"No," I said. "I want to make you feel good first. I've fantasized about it before. What you taste like."
Rachel's expression changed slightly, and she blushed. I was far too driven by hormones to really notice at the time, but later I would wonder. How could a woman like this not have men lining up to go down on her? How was that even possible, given how attractive she was? Did her previous partners not care about her?
Rachel slid up the bed and laid back, parting her legs. I ran my hands up her legs. She'd left her stockings on, and the transition from their slightly rough texture to the smooth warmth of her inner thighs did something to me. I slowly took off each high heel, kissing her on her each calf as I did so. I took my time, enjoying the feel of her firm, athletic body. When I looked back at her, her lips were parted, and she was absently pinching her own nipple. Her pussy was trimmed, but not shaved, and was a slightly darker auburn than her other hair. Her labia was swollen and wet, and I could smell her arousal from where I was. I moved down, kissing her on her inner thigh as I did so, before finally tasting her.
Rachel gasped, and I felt her hands in my hair. Her touch was light, almost tentative and unsure. I looked up at her.
"Tell me what you like...or just move me where you want me, I've...I mean obviously, I've never done this before. I don't want to fuck it up."
"You're off to a great start. Just keep it up, and I'll...oh god...I'll tell you what to change."
I didn't wait for her to finish before I started licking and lapping at her. What I lacked in experience I made up for in enthusiasm. After a bit, I felt a slight pull on my hair, too light to cause pain, but I liked it anyway. I responded by moving up until I was licking around but not directly on her clit. She stroked my head absently as I heard her moan.
"Fuck, Reuben. You're good...at this...at loving me..."
In response, I moved my hand over her taut belly and up to her chest, where I followed her example and pinched her nipple, lightly at first.
"Harder," she said. "Oh fuck, pinch them harder, and move up...just a little. There, oh fuck there..."
Rachel's words degenerated into a stream of noises and exclamations, meaningless but telling me I was doing it right. Her grip in my hair became painful, and her legs locked around my head. I felt her body go rigid, and she cried out, gasped, and then cried out again, her body locking and unlocking as she was taken by orgasms. I wanted to watch her, but I didn't dare stop. I kept it up until she started pushing my head away.
"Oh, god, enough, enough. I can't take any more, baby..."
I looked up and was very pleased with myself. Rachel was panting, her expression one of satisfaction, her whole body flushed with pleasure, her eyes half-lidded. She crooked a single finger at me, and I moved up her body, kissing her, belly, breasts, nipples, neck. I wanted to be inside her then, badly. That's what she wanted, too. As my cock slid along her wet slit, I groaned, unable to control this fire-like need, and kissed her, clumsily but with real affection. After a minute, we paused, and she looked me in the eyes.
"This is your first time, isn't it?"
Rachel asked the question simply, with kindness.
"Yes."
"Good. I want to be your first. I want to be special for you."
I don't know what I expected at that point. I had ideas about the way men and women should fuck, and they were pretty simple and a bit naive. Rachel corrected me. As soon as she stopped speaking, her eyes turned predatory, almost merciless, and she rolled hard. She was strong, at least as strong as I was, from constant exercise and training, and other activities. I found myself on my back, her straddling me, my wrists pinned as she kissed, no, attacked my neck and ears. She bit and nipped, and I cried out more than once. I never asked her to stop.
"Say you want me," she breathed, her voice hard.
"I want you."
"Say you need me."
"I need you, Rachel. Please!"
"Beg for it."
"I...please, Rachel. Please, I need..."
Rachel did something then that I won't ever forget. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but it aroused me further nonetheless. I didn't understand any of it. Not why she did it, or why part of me liked it. She released my wrists and slapped me, hard, across the face.
"Say that you belong to me. Say it!"
Rachel's voice had lost the affection that it had only moments before. All that was left was hunger and an aggressive dominance that, to be honest, frightened me a little. Inside, I knew that I deserved the punishment. I knew somehow that I had been bad, and this was what I deserved. I was simultaneously more aroused than I'd ever been, and also close to tears with emotions I didn't understand.
"I'm yours, Rachel. I belong to you. Please...please stop it."
Just like that, Rachel was herself again, looking down at me with familiar affection and new want. Something dark had passed over us, and I wouldn't understand it for many years. She kissed me, deeply, her hands on the side of my face, my arms around her back. She met my eyes as she reached down and guided my cock inside of her. This time we moaned together. I never understood how much she had wanted me.
"Fuck, Reuben, you feel like steel inside of me...and you're so hot. God..."
Rachel fucked me then. She was on top and in charge, and that felt right, at least for our first time. She knew what she was doing. Her body flexed, and her hips rolled, and her internal muscles squeezed my cock. I groaned and responded, and my hands explored her breasts, squeezing gently then roughly. She preferred the latter, and soon I was fondling her body hard enough to leave bruises. I didn't want to hurt her, not really. I just wanted to do what pleased her.
After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, we were both close. Rachel wasn't moving in the same way but was simply bringing herself up and down on my cock. I had my hands on her waist and was helping her move, up and down, harder and faster, and with more need.
"Rachel, I'm going to..."
"Do it, baby. Cum inside me, please. Please, Reuben, please cum inside me. I need it, and I'll be good for you, so good just cum inside me and..."
I did cum, and even then, a part of me wanted to truly fill her and make her pregnant. I'm sure a lot of that was just my eighteen-year-old hormones, but some of it was something more profound. I knew that she was for me, or I at least wanted her to be. I groaned as I did so, too focused on pleasure to speak.
"Oh god, Reuben, yes, god, yes, I love you!"
One last time, Rachel's body turned rigid and shook, her pussy milking my cock of every last drop, squeezing and pulling my cum out of me. I felt myself still thrusting up inside of her, even as I knew I was dry. Then it ended, and she fell, almost limply, down on me, kissing me on my lips and face and forehead and neck.
"That was so good, Reuben. So good. Thank you so much."
I couldn't respond. I felt all kinds of emotions pour through me, and the largest of them was definitely love. Real love. The first, if not the strongest, of my life. I think she felt it too. After a few moments, she rolled off me, releasing my cock. She settled in beside me. I had expected for her to lay on my chest, but instead, she guided my head until it rested on her breast. Then she sighed as she played with my hair. I was so full of love for her that I was almost in tears. I was embarrassed. Men weren't supposed to behave like this, or so I thought.
"I don't want this to be one time," I said, admitting my fear, now that we'd fucked.
"Me neither," Rachel answered, "but we have to keep this a secret. I could get in trouble, and I guess you could too."
"I won't tell anyone. Ever."
"I know you won't. I trust you completely. I'm sorry for hitting you, Reuben. I'm so sorry. I...I guess I thought you might like it. Someone did something like that to me, my first time. I guess I didn't like it either, not really, but it turned me on a lot. It still does when someone hurts me during sex."
Finally, I understood something about Rachel that I hadn't before. It wasn't a particularly deep understanding, but it was real. She was three years older than me, and much more sexually experienced, but not all of those experiences had been positive for her.
"I...I forgive you. I loved everything else. I love you, Rachel."
"I love you too, Reuben. Even more than..." Rachel trailed off then, and I realized that she had been close to saying something that she didn't want to admit. I looked up, and pain and guilt flashed across her face, briefly.
We slept together that night, never far apart, always touching or holding one another. We woke and made love twice more, once fiercely, and once slowly and tenderly. When I woke up, she had left me for her own room, but her side of the bed was still warm, and her scent lingered in the air.
Our relationship only intensified from there.
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Welcome Home
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I rested uneasily in my old bed. The room had been redecorated, but Isa assured me that my childhood things had never been discarded. I didn't have much interest in them as any memories I had associated with them were not of the nostalgic variety. When I had left home, the room had been a discordant shade of light blue and full of old dressers and antique furniture. Now it was done in a modern minimalist style. The color was a relaxing forest green, which Isa knew was my favorite. I had spent a lot of time out in the woods surrounding our estate when we were growing up. We both had.
I slept a few times but only for an hour or so at a time. I had nightmares of events, both real and embellished by childhood fears. In one, the corpse of my long-dead father crept in through the window while I slept and then ate me. In the logic of the dream world, I then somehow became him, which was worse than being simply consumed.
It would be fair to say that I was terrified of being here. I knew that Isa wasn't lying to me directly, but she was leaving something out. Could this be related to some strange requirement of the will? I didn't know, but I was sure that I would find out.
Eventually, I gave up on sleep. I pulled on some old pajama pants and a shirt and padded down the long carpeted hallways. I passed a maid doing some overnight cleaning. I was going to say hi, but then she spun neatly in place, faced the wall, and looked down. From my own memories, I knew that here eyes would be closed tightly.
I sighed again. Yet another depraved De Heer tradition. In many manors, the servants would have been required to curtsy, even in this day and age. Here, the maids and administrators, while few in number, were selected and informed that they would be expected to service the residents or anyone the residents specified, in any way they chose. There was no coercion (in theory anyway), and the compensation was incredibly generous. My father always found it to be an ethical solution, given that the women were selected based on a psychological predilection for submission and a need to be used.
It still felt wrong to me, perhaps because I'd seen how my father treated them. It was one thing to objectify someone in play. It was quite another to regard human beings as nothing more than something to be discarded. All of the staff signed waivers/contracts demanding non-disclosure and providing for a significant payout to loved ones in the "unlikely event of death or permanent injury."
There was a nice girl who went by Raja, a few years older than I was. When I was seventeen, I awkwardly flirted with her, but nothing ever came of it. One day she was simply gone. When I asked my mother, she simply said that Raja quit. I later found suspicious stains in the corner of her small room, missed when whoever had cleaned up had taken the sheets and mopped the floor nearby to a mirror shine. Just one of many crimes I suspected my father had committed. Casual exercises of power that he believed he had a birthright to. Truthfully, it was only my cowardice that prevented me from standing up to him sooner. I believed that he would have had me killed if I became enough of a nuisance.
I found myself letting my hand run down the maid's back. She shivered, and it wasn't from disgust. I realized then that there probably hadn't been many men here recently. If she had both a tendency and a need to be submissive, then she was probably very pent up. Why, if I fucked her, I'd probably be doing her a favor.
I jerked my hand back, disgusted with myself. Some of that might be true. And yeah, I'd had sex with the staff here before, when I turned eighteen. I justified it by being less of an ass than my father, but that was a low bar. I caught him once brutally fucking a girl my own age right in the hallway, in the middle of the day.
I wanted to apologize, but I knew it wouldn't make any sense. Instead I just sighed and continued down the hall. The truth was that it had been a while for me as well. Nina had met someone that she was serious about, and when one of use was seeing someone else, we didn't cheat.
I walked down the long halls to one of the back stairways. I always felt ridiculous using the massive twin staircase in the main foyer. I managed to make it to the kitchen without any more encounters with the staff. Most were asleep, and it appeared to me like there were far fewer working here than there had been earlier. I wondered if the family had fallen on hard times or perhaps with father's death, they didn't need as many around. Many did tend to quit after only six months or so.
Most of the furnishings in the kitchen were different than when I'd last been here, including the large stainless steel refrigerator which gleamed in the dim light that I turned on. I opened it, expecting to have to dig around a bit, but there, stacked on the left, was proof of Isa's planning. There were simple foods there, but I knew then that she had indeed been monitoring me, and that she had paid attention to my eating habits.
Yogurt, cheese, meats, berries. All simple and at least somewhat healthy things that I enjoyed. She'd even had the kind of soda that I preferred, Cheerwine, shipped in. I was at once both touched and a little bit taken aback. Isa hadn't had to do this. She had her plan to trap me here, where she could keep an eye on me. At least she intended to keep me a little comfortable.
I took a small package of raspberries and a soda and turned around to leave. I almost dropped them in shock. There was someone in the kitchen with me, standing beside the sink.
She looked unsure, like a deer caught in headlights. I got the impression that half of her wanted to run out the door, and the other half wanted to just stay still and hope that I wouldn't notice her. I probably should have nodded a greeting, apologized, and gone straight back up to my room, but I didn't. The truth was she was rather striking in appearance.
I'd never seen her before, of that much I was sure. She was really too young to have been working here when I lived here. I guessed her age at twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. She was short, if not petite, and even in the dim light I could see that she had striking platinum blonde hair. Her face was heart-shaped, and where Isa's was beautiful but sharp, this woman's expression was open, giving. Her glacier-blue eyes were wide with something like shock and she held her arms across her chest. Belatedly, I noticed that she was dressed rather formally for the hour. A simple white blouse with what looked like light blue designer's jeans. She even wore heels.
"I'm sorry!" Her voice expressed dismay that wasn't called for. Then again, she probably knew who I was. And if she knew me, maybe she had known my father as well. Perhaps the reaction wasn't so extreme after all. She looked down but didn't turn around as I had expected.
I put my food down on the counter and extended my hand, doing my best to smile warmly.
"Hi," I said, "I'm Reuben. I guess I just moved in."
Her eyebrows raised, but she shook my hand firmly and professionally. It was the kind of handshake you gave before presenting to the board.
"Oh," she said, "I know who you are. I guess I wasn't expecting to see you in the kitchen at this hour. Isa, I mean...um, Ms. De Heer usually calls if she wants something from down here. I'd just finished up the last of my, um, tasks, and I was going to eat something and go to bed."
"By all means, then, don't stop on my account," I said, holding the berries out to her. She took one very carefully, much like an animal that desperately wanted to eat and befriend someone but didn't entirely trust them yet. Her caution was advisable, and not just because of family history, but because I had an agenda. If she was on a first-name basis with my sister, then I wanted to know more about her.
"Oh," she said with almost a comical expression of embarrassment after quickly eating the berry, "I forgot to tell you my name. I'm Sarah Huriens. I'm your sister's personal assistant. I set up everything to her specifications, once she told me that you'd be staying here for a significant part of your time."
"She must be working you very hard if you have to eat this late."
Sarah blushed almost immediately, telling me what kind of work she had been doing for Isa. I shoved away my mixed feelings of both arousal and jealousy. Those days were well behind me now. That being said, there was something very appealing about this woman beyond her attractive appearance. Perhaps it was her seeming eagerness to please or the way her face projected kindness.
Or maybe it was just the part of me that was like my father, scenting innocent prey.
After a moment, I realized that we were standing in silence, and Sarah's eyes had turned down again.
"Well, I apologize for getting in your way," I said at last, "it was nice to meet you, and I'm sure that I will see more of you, soon."
"Oh, thank you, sir. Please don't think anything of it. It was wonderful to meet you, sir."
I chuckled at her formality as I left. I had gotten used to the way real people lived.
"Call me Reuben, please, at least when it's just the two of us. I don't want to get you in trouble with my sister, but everyone here seems to regard me as something to fear, and if you would be all right with it, I'd like to have the chance to prove to at least one other person here that I'm not."
"Yes, sir, er, Reuben. Yes, I would love to get to know you better. Until you get your own assistant I believe I will be filling in. I've been looking forward to meeting you, to be honest. Your sister speaks very highly of you."
Well, I won't pretend that didn't shock me, but I covered it up, waved good night, and snuck back upstairs with my snack. As I ate, I found myself unaccountably optimistic. Sarah had given me something to look forward to, and try as I might to keep my thoughts gentlemanly, it was effortless to imagine her full lips on my body, and what she might look like out of her clothes.
I sighed, pledged to whatever spirit looked out for me that I would be at least somewhat good, and then lay down.
I slept surprisingly well.
* * *
The following day I woke up to the leftovers from my snack, having disappeared. The maids here had always been like ninjas, cleaning whenever you weren't looking. I found it a little creepy now that I was an adult, and I wondered if locking the door at night would make any difference.
I had woken up naturally around seven am, the time I usually got up to get ready to go to work. Although it was a Sunday, I typically tried to keep a regular schedule, because otherwise getting up for a morning class on Monday could be a real pain. I supposed that I wouldn't be doing a lot of teaching now. I realized that I should probably quit or go on sabbatical. Isa's arrangements aside, they might need to backfill for someone who couldn't be there often. Though it hurt a bit, Nina and the rest of my friends would probably be safer with some distance from me.
I went downstairs and found a maid waiting for me. She was young, even younger than Sarah, and she smiled and gestured for me to follow her. Wordlessly she led me into a small room that I recognized as my mother's office. It had been redecorated a little bit but was otherwise very similar. A single working desk with what looked like a modern laptop sitting on it, a table that could seat two had breakfast and a large binder on it. I smiled in understanding, and the maid left me there, closing the door behind her. The room had the same decor, tasteful and relaxing greens and browns which matched the trees that I could see out the picture window. I stepped closer and enjoyed the early morning view of the lake. A crane patiently waded in the shallows, eager to find its own breakfast.
I sighed, sat down, and began to eat and chug coffee while leafing through the binder. I knew what was expected of me. Truthfully, I preferred digital media, but I suspected that there were things in here that no one wanted me to have access to in a digital format just yet.
The binder was a complete layout of the De Heer organization as it currently was. It had an excellent introduction, which took me through the changes, sales, and acquisitions that things had undergone in my absence. It wasn't poorly written, either. Before I knew it, I had a better understanding of what was going on that I ever had when I was a resident at the mansion. When I heard a knock at the door, I was startled to have realized that almost two hours had passed.
"Come in," I said, standing up and stretching.
"Good morning, sir...I mean, Reuben," Sarah said, poking her head around the door. Her smile in the morning light was brilliant and eager. She wore a beautiful blouse that showed a bit of cleavage and a tight white skirt that made it just above her knee. Around her neck was a simple silver chain. I found myself cheering up already.
"Have you come to test me on what I've learned?"
"Actually, I'm here to get you for your morning meeting with Ms. De Heer. I mean Isa. You'll be meeting with her every morning on the weekdays that you're here and having dinner with her every evening. I know that today is Sunday, but we have a lot to catch you up on. After the meeting, you and I will sit for a while, and I'll help you get up to speed."
I made to walk to the door, but Sarah stopped me.
"You can um, leave the binder there on the desk. It will always be here if you need it."
"She doesn't even trust me with this?"
I didn't bother keeping the bitterness out of my voice, although Sarah had nothing to do with it. She looked away diplomatically as I set the binder down on the desk, and followed her out.
We went back to my father's old office. Isa was there, working hard on what I guessed was a critical email. She smiled and stood after a moment and I saw that she was dressed in a mirror of Sarah. Black, simple blouse with a low neckline and a slightly shorter black skirt which showed off her amazing legs. I realized that, to my chagrin, the feelings that I thought I had left behind long ago were still there, just waiting to come out again. I vowed to keep them in check. There wasn't any world in which they would be welcome.
Isa gestured to the table on the other side of the room and sat in one of the chairs. So this was to be a meeting of equals, then, not Sarah and I sitting on the other side of the desk. I sat opposite Isa, but to my surprise, Sarah moved and stood beside my sister with what looked like long practice, slightly behind and to the left, hands crossed modestly. Both Isa and Sarah held tablets. I felt silly for not bringing at least the laptop, and Isa caught on right away.
"Don't worry about taking notes. This isn't that kind of meeting."
"What kind is it?"
Isa sighed and looked down briefly. Others wouldn't have been able to tell, but I knew that as a tell of hers. She felt guilty but her pride prevented her from just up and saying what she wanted to. I decided that after yesterday, I'd give her a chance to speak.
"Reuben, I'm sorry," she began.
"You're going to need to be a little more specific," I said, a bit testily. Sarah looked a little startled. I suspected that no one spoke to Isa in the tone that I used. I expected a witty remark back form my sister, but she remained in silence for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
"For all of it, I suppose. I really do think that it's best that you've returned here, for the reasons that I mentioned, but...also for my own. I missed you. I missed just talking with you and being with you and the times that we...we spent together. I hope you missed me as well, but..."
"I did," I said cautiously, "but honestly, this has been a bit of a shock. You're not the same person that I knew. You've made that abundantly clear."
Isa sighed deeply before speaking again. It was hard to know if it was sincere or just some kind of emotional manipulation.
"I should have started out by telling you how much I've missed you. Perhaps you feel that I'm paranoid, unfair, or even cruel. I assure you that I am not. For the time being, I just want...I need you to trust me. I know that's a lot to ask, given yesterday but...if you can, then I promise that I'll do my best to...to let you live as you want. Once you have a true involvement in the family's interests and have demonstrated your good intentions, I'll step back. I don't want to hold you here against your will for the rest of your life. I'm hoping that given time, you'll see my side of things, and perhaps even enjoy your time here."
I blinked for a moment, stunned. I only spoke again because I realized that the other two people were expecting an answer.
"Isa, you must know how that sounds, right? You're making vague promises of 'stepping back,' but what does that mean? Yesterday you threatened me. Not just me, but my friends as well, the few that I have. I've built a life. Perhaps it doesn't seem important to you, but it's mine. It's what I made after having to leave everything behind. If you want my trust, then you'll have to give me something to work with. The thing with the binder for example. That's a bit excessive, don't you think?"
"Oh," Isa said, "That. Believe it or not, that's not just for you. It's for me as well. Certain documents remain checked in by security in certain rooms. Even in this house. There are things in here which I may not remove. Granted, I wrote the policy with our head of security, but I follow it. We had thefts and some rather...extraordinary incidents while you were gone. It probably is excessive, but for now, we have to keep things this way. I hope you can understand."
I was very curious about what she had meant by "extraordinary incidents." Still, I knew that if I asked, I'd just get more diplomatic evasiveness. I hated myself a bit for it, but in a way, I was kind of excited about the situation. Even if I was being forced into it, I was seeing my sister now, and probably would every day. Maybe time would explain what she would not.
"I don't understand, but it's nice to see you, at least. I'll ...do my best to assume that your intent is positive."
That was true, and Isa actually blushed ever so slightly. She nodded, and we sat for just a moment in what had become an oddly comfortable silence. Then my sister held out her left hand in an offhand gesture, and Sarah stepped forward.
"I have a great deal of material to go over with you, and we'll get into business, money, and all kinds of ugly stuff soon, but this is a bit delicate. Please try not to be angry, all right? I know none of this is fair to you, but I also want you to enjoy your time here. I want you to relax, and maybe even spend some money on yourself. Get a car, maybe even, um, have a fling."
The words were so strange coming out of Isa's mouth that I almost laughed. I was glad that I didn't. There was a lot of emotion hidden behind her reserve, I knew. There were real feelings that both of us had for each other. Some healthy, some less so, but all were bonds that could be broken with the wrong word or act. I was torn between calling her out and taking a deep breath and biding my time. In the end, I decided to try the latter course.
"Um, all right. I saw that you'd stocked some of my favorite foods in the fridge. That actually felt oddly welcoming."
Isa smiled again, and a little more of that too-formal-but-kind girl I knew escaped from her mask. I noticed then that her left hand had drifted behind Sarah. Clearly, she had been caressing her personal assistant on her ass, and now Isa was stroking her inner calf. Sarah blushed and looked down, but it was hard to say if she was more embarrassed or aroused.
"So you've met Sarah, obviously," Isa started, "she's been vital to both my success and my well being here. She'd tell you that she wasn't any more important to me than any other of my staff or employees, but that would be her modesty. The truth is somewhat different."
I found myself sitting forward, suddenly very interested in where this conversation was going. As I did, Isa's hand slid up under Sarah's skirt and disappeared on her inner thigh. Sarah didn't pull away, but I heard the tiniest whimper escape her. She was most definitely more aroused than ashamed, and I bet that the latter contributed to the former.
"What is the truth?" I asked, almost blandly. I was incredibly turned on by this display, however, and Isa probably knew it.
Isa's arm moved up a bit more, and Sarah moaned.
"Sarah is my trusted friend and my lover. She has proclivities that match well with mine and...well, there is a depth of feeling that I feel for her that I never expected."
I made a mental note not to flirt with Sarah. Despite my urges and frustrations, I did not want to ruin Isa's happiness or complicate matters, but it turned out that my sister was ready to do the latter, at least.
"So," Isa began, looking sidelong at her lover/assistant, "when I showed you my brother's picture and explained that he'd be coming to live with us, do you remember what you said."
Sarah bit her lip and wobbled just a bit. To my shock, I realized that Isa was most likely fingering her, right there. I was harder than I'd been in years.
"Tell Reuben what you said, please."
Isa's voice was kind but very firm. I could tell that Sarah responded to that kind of instruction.
"Yes, Ms. De Heer. Mr...um...Reuben, I told her that you were very handsome and that I was looking forward to meeting you."
"And?" Isa said, arching one eyebrow and smiling wryly.
"A-and...that I would be amenable to being...used by you, in whatever way you so desired. Please. S-sir..."
Sarah leaned forward then and steadied herself on the table, as Isa withdrew her hand with faint amusement and great affection in her gaze. I wasn't really sure how to react, so I simply sat quietly and enjoyed Sarah's flushed panting.
"Well," Isa said finally, "no one is asking you to answer now, or ever. I feel Sarah is very beautiful and giving as a lover. While it may be unorthodox, I have no qualms about sharing her with you, if she wants. And she does want, Reuben. Quite a bit. If and when you want to take things to that next step, just let her know, and she will be most pleased to serve you. I know that you have misgivings about using the staff as father would. While quite a few of them would welcome your attention, you are correct in that they tend to be very young and unworldly. Sarah is young, but she is not foolish, and she has made me very happy. I think that she will be good for you as well."
"I'm ...happy to hear it, although I'm not sure if there is proper etiquette to respond to an offer of this nature," I said, meeting Sarah's eyes, "I will note that I am very interested in seeing where this goes. Sarah made quite a strong impression on me last night."
Isa's eyebrows raised as she was evidently unaware that we had met the perilous evening. It didn't seem to bother her, however.
"All right then. I'll let you get to your business then. No euphemism intended, unfortunately. You'll get your own assistant soon, one of your choosing, but for now, I have meetings, and I need to be in Chicago by this afternoon and New York by early tomorrow morning. I won't return until tomorrow evening. While I'm gone, Sarah will take you through your training, guide you in your first decisions, and help you get settled."
"All right," I said, eager to get started, "but I assume that we'll actually be spending time together when you get back, right?"
"Yes. I have many questions for you, about your life, your work, even your marriage. I'm sure you have some for me as well."
We made small talk then, idle, not deep, about Isa's travel arrangements and what hotels she liked. I was unsurprised to discover that she preferred to fly under the radar and stay in reasonably standard lodgings, with our own security close, of course. She had always been modest. After a few minutes, Isa left, and I followed Sarah back to what was my mother's office, although now it was plainly mine.
We spent a pleasant if somewhat dry day together. She was so professional and focussed that I found myself able to mostly ignore the proximity of her body or the way she occasionally touched my forearm or shared a smile before blushing and looking away. In any case, I did learn quite a bit about the De Heer operations, and I understood it much better than had I simply read about it in the binder.
"Well," Sarah said, looking at her phone, "It's about five pm, and I think I've probably worn your brain out. Isa actually asked me to stop sooner but I thought you might want a complete picture. There are still a lot of details to fill in, but this should get you started. Your first big decision will what parts of the business you want to be involved in."
"How so?"
"Your attention is like any other resource: finite. You only have so much time and energy. Most things run smoothly if you put the right people in the right positions. Still, if you want to divest from, um, less ethical interests to more ethical ones, you'll need to have your hand on the wheel if you don't want things to spin quickly into chaos."
"Huh. And before I can decide, I need to understand what we're doing everywhere and how it all ties together? And what the risks are for the family and the employees."
"Exactly!" Sarah said, smiling at me, "I will, of course, help guide you, but I can't make the final decisions."
I closed the binder for the last time that day and was relieved that I had to leave it in the secure office.
"Do you want to eat dinner with me? This is a request, not an order. I'd love to, but if you want alone time, then I'm fine on my own as well."
The question surprised Sarah as well as me. I hadn't planned on offering. Honestly, with Isa gone, I just didn't want to be alone that night. And I will admit that the more time I spent with Sarah, the more I wanted to know what she looked like out of that skirt and blouse.
"Yes. I would love that, sir. Sorry, I meant Reuben."
"Great, meet me in the foyer in about an hour."
"Oh, we're going out? Should I dress up?"
I laughed.
"No, you should dress down."
----------------------------------------------
Sarah
----------------------------------------------
As promised, Sarah was downstairs and ready. She hadn't dressed down, not really, but I hadn't expected her to. She wore a sleeveless white shirt, a pair of simple capris that hugged her ass just right, and some very high heels. It was a big step up from my worn jeans and black Danzig t-shirt.
"You look great," I said sincerely, "I love your choker."
It was white, which matched her typical color scheme, but it also had what looked like a single black pearl in the front. When I mentioned it, Sarah touched it reflexively and blushed.
"Th-thank you. The choker was a gift from your sister."
I smiled wryly. I had assumed as much. Isa always did like to mark her property.
Per my merciful sister's instructions, I had been granted access to use the cars in the garage, many of which were ridiculous toys collected by my father. They were beautiful and fast, but nothing like practical, and they drew too much attention. I ignored them and chose a black Nissan. The keys were all kept on a neatly arranged board by the door, and no one had ever dared to even attempt to steal them.
Sarah sat quietly, hands in her lap as I waved at the security checkpoint at the main gate. I didn't bother looking back, but I knew that we would have at least one car following us. Nothing I could do about it, and I wasn't looking to piss off Isa, so I drove cautiously and relatively slowly.
I took us in the opposite direction from town, down a long winding road which followed the small river that emptied into our private lake, then took a right turn onto another, slightly straighter street. Eventually, the silence got to be too much for Sarah, as I knew it would. Training could only take you so far.
"Um, where are you taking me?"
I heard it then, a slight fear in her voice. She was eager, yes, but this was unusual, and maybe she'd heard horror stories of what had happened to staff in the past. I wanted to surprise her a little, but not like that.
"We're going to a diner out in Capucin. We're coming up on the outskirts now."
Despite living close to it, Sarah may never have even so much as driven through Capucin. It was a tiny main-street town with a little historic downtown and not much else. It was in the opposite direction from the main town, the interstate, and the closest big city. There was no reason to come here unless you lived here, or you knew about Earl's Place.
When I pulled into the parking lot, Sarah's eyes lit up with delight. So much different than my sister, she was open in all things. I was happy that they'd found each other and again wondered why Isa had encouraged her lover to go out with me.
"This place is out of the 1950s!"
I got out and opened her door for her. I was going to give her the full traditional date experience. When we entered, we seated ourselves. It really was a typical diner, but it was packed already, and that was because of the quality of the food. It had been on at least one tv show, and I'd missed living near it.
We sat in a booth with red vinyl that had been repaired many times, and there was a tiny jukebox with a coin slot on the side closest to the window. Sarah saw it and giggled.
"How did I never know about this place?"
"I doubt Isa would remember it to tell you. We used to come here sometimes, and I'd come here by myself, often just to get out. It's got good burgers, but uh, I never asked if you were vegetarian."
"I'm not. I love meat! All kinds."
She winked then, and it was so ridiculously lewd that it made me laugh. Earl himself then ambled up to our table. He was a big man, kind and respectful, but not to be trifled with in his own establishment.
"De Heer," he said, by way of acknowledgment. He'd never call me mister or sir, but I was honestly just flattered that he had remembered me. "Ma'am. Do you know what you want?"
"Um," Sarah said, "no, but you could order for me?"
Sarah looked at me hopefully, and I began to understand more of her relationship with Isa.
"Sure. We'll both have the bacon cheeseburger with fries with large chocolate shakes."
"Coming right up," Earl said, walking off like a friendlier version of Bigfoot.
I looked over at Sarah, inquisitively.
"How do evenings go with Isa? I mean, I'm not looking for the details. I'm just curious."
"Oh, we usually stay in and eat together. It's actually pretty informal. If we're traveling together, we stay in, um, adjoining rooms. I sleep near her but not with her. And we'll go out to nice places together. Sometimes, um...she takes me to places where she can show me off a little."
Sarah touched the pearl again unconsciously as she told me how things were.
"Like private clubs? BDSM places?"
Sarah nodded and blushed, looking down.
"We don't have to talk about that. I was mostly curious as to how things are between you. I may want, um, more from you, but I don't want to ruin anything."
"We're very close, Reuben. I love her, I think. She's never said anything like that to me, but she cares for me a lot and makes sure that I know it. No one, man or woman, has ever been both so...so vigorous in giving me what I needed but then also so concerned with my well-being. Before I met your sister, I was successful professionally but a mess romantically. I kept getting involved with men who, um...well, the sex was often good, but that was because they were just jerks. There was no love or even consideration there. I had just gotten out of a relationship with an abusive asshole, and then I saw the posting here. I think that the hints of danger were what sold it to me. I had virtually no self-esteem left, and I was looking for an easy way out of everything."
That was a lot of information, but it didn't surprise me.
"And Isa and you hit it off?"
"Not at first. At first, things were strictly professional. Your mother was still alive, and she was distant with me but kind. Isa wasn't all that kind. She was harsh when I failed, but her demands weren't impossible. I got better and better at anticipating her needs. Each time she yelled at me, I got turned on. When she praised me for finally succeeding, I got even more turned on. I was kind of a wet mess."
Sarah laughed.
"What happened?"
"Isa got drunk. No, really. She rarely drinks, but that night, she and I were working late in her hotel room. I think not being in your family home helped. She downed most of a bottle of wine by herself. I was afraid that she was having too much, but then she just leaned over, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and kissed me. I'd never been so helpless with anyone. It wasn't that I wanted to stop her or say 'no.' It was that I couldn't. I was aroused and just hers. I knew then."
I probably should have stopped asking questions, but this was getting good.
"Knew what?"
"That I loved her. She tore my clothes off. Really tore them. And forced me to, um, pleasure her. The thing was, it was perfect. It was exactly what and how I needed it, and I wondered if she'd been checking my internet activity. You know, what kind of sites I visited and the stories I read. What was different from all the other people was that I felt safe, too. Isa had never really been cruel to me, and she'd mentored me when others would have fired me. I knew that if I had asked her to stop, she would have, right away. I didn't, though. I did whatever she wanted. When she was done with me, she got me off too, and she was just as merciless. That time I did have to beg her to stop, it was just too much."
"Wow."
"Yeah, that was um, probably too much information. I'm sorry. I'm a talker, and I like to share, but you're the first person I've really been able to talk about Isa with. She told me that you're safe and that I can tell you anything, so it's not like I'm breaking confidence. She's amazing, you know. I just wish I could take her to meet with my parents."
"Why can't you?"
Sarah's face turned briefly sour.
"They're religious and stuck in the nineteenth century. I haven't bothered asking Isa because of it, although I think, probably, she would go. The irony is my family is incredibly proud of me. Working for the famous De Heer family. If they only knew that I went down on the boss."
I laughed, and she did too. From that point on, we kept things pretty light, joking, flirting. She asked me about what teaching was like, and I asked her about living in the house. She told me that she worked out early in the morning most days and when she found out that I did sometimes as well, she invited me to go with her. I got the impression that the worst part of the job for Sarah was the isolation. She loved crowds and having lots of friends, and, at least ask things stood now, that was impossible. I wondered if Isa knew how she felt.
Eventually, it grew late. We'd passed hours after being done eating, so we went home. I was exhausted, far more than I was accustomed to for so early an hour. As we drove back, I felt Sarah's hand on my leg, moving up and down in a rhythm that was making my cock respond eagerly.
"Hey," I mockingly objected, "I'm not easy."
"That's not what I heard. I heard you slept with a lot of women."
"From who?"
"Isa. She said you were pretty shy when you lived here, but since you left, you've had a ton of lovers."
I did some quick mental math.
"I don't normally tell women this on a first date, but I think I've had sex with a grand total of five women. The number jumps to seven if you count hand and mouth stuff. Only two were serious."
Sarah wrinkled her brow in a way that I was finding more and more adorable.
"That's not a lot, no. I've been with more people than you have, I guess. Maybe I'm the..."
"No," I said fast, stopping her, "I understand. It took me a long time to accept that the De Heer family wasn't normal, but when I did, I loosened up a bit and just let myself be myself. I never expected to get laid ever again or find new friends. Ironically, when I was relaxed, I found it easy to meet new people and talk to women. Isa never left. For her, the idea of having multiple partners as a woman has been taboo to her since she realized what sex was, and when men do, she's going to associate the behavior with dad. Maybe it's not a ton of lovers, but I know why she'd disapprove of it."
Or at least I thought I did.
"Still," Sarah said, "I sometimes wonder with the way she talks. She's actually pretty experienced but...does she really think I'm someone to keep around?"
"I think you'd know if she felt that way. Like I said, it's less that I'm promiscuous and more that it makes her see me like our father."
We drove in silence for a little while, Sarah's breathing intensified, her hand gradually moving upward.
"Sarah?"
"Yes?" Sarah's voice was husky and full of need. There was no doubt as to what she was thinking.
"I'm trying really hard to focus on getting home, but if you keep doing this, I'm going to have to pull over and bend you over the car hood."
Sarah laughed.
"You make it sound so appealing. But fine, I can wait. I just don't want you to lose interest."
"There's no danger of that. You're an extraordinary woman."
Sarah laughed, a little more scornfully than I expected.
"If you say so."
"I do."
I drove through the checkpoint, followed immediately after by the black SUV that I hadn't seen but had known was out there somewhere. I parked and looked at Sarah. After hesitating for a moment, she spoke.
"So, I know its a bit forward of me, but do you want to come inside?"
"Are you inviting me into my own house?"
"No, I'm inviting you into me. I just happen to live in your house."
Sarah smirked at me, and I kissed her. She wasn't expecting it, and she leaned into me, her tongue dancing with mine. She pulled away but was breathing heavily. As she did, I caught her perfume, light, and fruity. Beneath it was the scent of her body, musky and exciting.
"You can't say things like that to me without consequences," I said, softly.
"I'm looking forward to them," Sarah said as she got out of the car. Her walk was slow and sultry, intended for my viewing pleasure. She turned and looked at me as she entered the side door by the garage. I got out and followed quickly. As I came inside, I saw her petite form just turning the corner of the small side staircase leading upstairs. I got upstairs just in time to watch her turn into what must have been her room.
I followed, feeling that old intensity come over me. I understood what she wanted from me, and I had it in spades: cruelty, ferocity, and maybe a little danger. I followed Sarah through the door. It was a beautiful room and felt like her. She had decorated it well in a spectrum of light blue colors with beautiful landscape pictures on all of the walls. A small desk sat in the corner, adjacent to her bed.
Sarah turned to face me, her mouth in a teasing little smile. It went away when I kicked the door behind me closed. I didn't ask for anything. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed downward. She didn't resist. Her eyes got wide, and she fell to her knees, mouth parted slightly. I looked down at her, grinning coldly.
"You know what to do. Don't make me remind you."
Sarah nodded. Hesitantly, she undid my belt, and my fly then pulled my cock out. Her hand looked so small gripping it, and she looked up at me, her eyes full of need. I nodded, and she took it in her mouth. She gagged a little but took me all the way to the balls before releasing me and doing it again. I groaned.
"You're a good little cocksucker, but you know that, don't you?"
Sarah nodded, half of my cock still in her mouth. I got angry. Angry with the way her eyes pleaded, angry with the way I had been treated.
I kept it under control. Used it. I had a way of knowing what women wanted from me, and Sarah wanted to be used. She was a natural submissive, beautiful and kind and pleasing. I looked her in the eyes as I took her head in my hands. Then I began to fuck her.
Sarah didn't resist me. She braced her self on my thighs with her hands, but she otherwise gave herself to me. Her mouth was just a hole to be used. I sped up and fucked her harder, feeling my cock head it the back of her throat as she gagged on it. Soon I'd had my fill of her mouth. I wanted the rest of her. I pulled out of her mouth, and she almost fell forward, gasping.
I looked down at her, my insistence abated for a moment.
"Are you all right, Sarah?"
She nodded and smiled at me, her mascara running. She bit her lip. This had excited her, as I thought it would. I smiled honestly and warmly at her, then I lifted her by her shoulders and practically threw her onto the bed. She gasped, but I didn't wait. I pulled her blouse apart, tearing buttons off. I heard them clatter onto the hardwood floor. She had small, perky breasts, as I had guessed, and wore no bra. I mauled them in my hands before I nipped and sucked at them.
Sarah moaned, and I unbuttoned her capris. After I had bit her once, marking her, I pulled her pants and underwear off in one smooth motion. Her blonde pussy was trimmed, swollen and wet and ready. I forced her legs open and thrust my cock inside of her mercilessly. She cried out, but I ignored her.
I fucked her hard then. Bruisingly so. I may have been too rough. I didn't stop, though, and she didn't ask me to. I sped up, thrusting harder and harder until she had wrapped her arms around my neck, holding on for dear life. I felt her tense then, cumming, hard. Screaming my name. After a moment, she breathed out into my ear.
"Cum in me. It's okay. Please."
I buried myself inside her and released. I hadn't cum that well or hard in a long time. I emptied myself in her, not caring if she was on the pill or not. I was a De Heer, and we used our property how we wanted.
After a moment, all was calm. I was panting, and Sarah was crying. I kissed her head and lips. I helped to undress her.
"Are you...leaving?" Sarah asked, almost mournfully.
"No," I said.
I undressed and then got into the bed with her. I pulled her to my chest, and she eagerly complied. I stroked her back and told her what a good job she'd done for me, and what a good lover she'd been. She sighed, and I continued to tell her the things that I appreciated of her. How wonderful she'd been with helping me get prepared, how she was funny and smart, and kind.
Some people call this aftercare, but I really just wanted her to know that I wasn't just fucking her. I may have had the De Heer temperament. Still, I hated the idea of using someone for sex without caring for them, especially someone like Sarah.
So I held her, and we dozed off together. She was, I reflected, a lovely gift from my sister. Even then, however, I wondered what the catch would be.
I woke in the very late hours and watched Sarah's chest rise and fall. There was something peaceful about her face at rest. She was still for so long that I assumed that she was still asleep, but I must have woken her up when I did. She sat up on one elbow and spoke. I could hear something like concern in her voice.
"I think you're wrong about Isa. I mean, why she's upset that you've had sex with so many women."
"Really? Why?"
"I...I think she's jealous, Reuben. I shouldn't even say anything, but...she got so upset when she read about you and Nina getting married. She hates her, and even she knows that its irrational. There's no reason for it. Nina hasn't ever done anything that would be suspicious to us. God, I'm going to get in so much trouble for telling you this."
"Then don't tell Isa that you did. Why do you think it's jealousy?"
I was afraid I knew the answer.
"Because, I, uh, shit. Look, please don't be mad at your sister. We talk about everything. I know about you and her. I mean, I know about what happened between the two of you."
"Fuck," I said. I couldn't believe that she'd told Sarah.
"Please don't be mad at her. She made me understand why and how it happened. You're both very intense, smart, attractive people. And you had no one else you could rely on. Your father was...well you know. Your mother wasn't bad, but she wasn't protection. You protected each other. And...well...things happened...
"That's one way to put it," I said, maybe more bitterly than I intended. I sat up, suddenly wanting to be far away from here. Sarah's hands caught my arm.
"Please don't go. Please. I'm sorry I even mentioned it. I just...I think that she still feels some of those feelings, and maybe they confuse her a little. That's all."
I let myself be pulled back down on my back. Sarah settled in on my chest, and I put my arm around her. For all of what we did and had discussed, she had an air of innocence to her that made me want to protect her.
"She might be confused, and I do think she cares about me, but she doesn't love me like that."
"How can you be certain?"
"Sarah, when I left, she could have come with me. She could have tried to stop me. She could have contacted me, or responded when I tried to contact her. It's been years, and she never did anything but keep tabs on me, so she knew that I wasn't a danger to the family interests. If she loved me the way I...the way I had loved her, then she would have found a way to let me know."
"You're probably right, Reuben. I don't know much about the time before I showed up, but I knew that there were awful times. Please don't be too harsh with her."
"Isa can take care of herself. If she wanted me to trust her, then she would have chosen a different way to bring me back into the fold."
"Maybe, but I think that she wants you to be happy. Just give her time. Please."
I sighed. I knew that there was no way Sarah would take my side in this particular issue, and I really didn't want to fuck up the rest of the night for either of us.
"Time is something I appear to have, so I'll try and keep an open mind. I mean, she shared you with me, that has to count for something, right?"
Sarah made a noise of approval. It was a weird situation, but I was, for the moment, happy.
"Reuben?"
"Yes?"
"Can you sleep here tonight? All night I mean? I don't get to sleep with Isa very often..."
"Of course. Sleep well."
We both did.
----------------------------------------------
Routine
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There was something about having sex with a beautiful young woman who was eager for more made my involuntary life-changes a bit more appealing. I decided to make the best of it for the time being, despite knowing that it had been at least partly overt manipulation on the part of Isa.
I sent an email to the Dean of my university, thanking him profusely for his tolerance of my unusual situation, and asking what he felt would be best for the organization. If he asked me to step down so another could replace me, I would. I could just as well do academic work independently as I could there. Then I sent a note to Nina, explaining in the vaguest terms possible about family business emergencies and reconnecting with my sister. I informed her that I'd be spending more time here and less there, and asked her to tell our mutual friends that I was fine and I would, in fact, return in a few months or so.
I settled into something like a routine. Every day I'd educate myself on some new part of the De Heer business. I'd acquaint myself with the details, call a few key people at each corporation or organization, and introduce myself. All were very helpful and answered my questions to the best of their ability. Quite a few were nervous. I guess they'd all heard the rumors of how my father had dealt with disobedience and failure. I could attest personally that some were true.
On my back, in a neat crisscrossing of lines, were the scars that proved it. He didn't do it all at once, or even very close together. In my youth, like a lot of people, I'd made mistakes and engaged in some misbehavior. There was had always been a price for disrespect and disobedience, and a De Heer always revenged himself or made good on his penitence. I clearly remembered the first day that Father had literally etched that lesson into my skin.
* * *
"Come on. This is bullshit. You're not going to do it."
Isa's voice was sharp and taunting. She enjoyed needling me sometimes. At the time, I hated it, but now I think I was just one of the few people that she had any actual influence over.
"I can. I mean, I think I can, anyway. And if I can, then I can help you up, too."
Isa rolled her eyes at my childish display of optimism. Granted, we were both children still. We'd turned fifteen a scarce week before. It had been a rough year. Our tutors had been changed, and our new ones were generally harsh and unaccepting of failure. Father never pulled strings to get us in anywhere. He made sure that we had the best education, but he also made sure that we worked hard to learn. Isa was already quite pretty, although she was still relatively thin and waif-like, years away from growing into the sophisticated beauty that she would become. I have such vivid memories of her that day. She wore a black sundress and had her hair up in a bun. Her makeup was, even then, flawless. I was in jeans and a simple t-shirt. There were no graphics of any kind on it, of course. That would be too vulgar for a De Heer.
"Come on. Even if they don't notice us leaving, Rachel will see us coming back over. She lives right there!"
We were both considering a particularly old section of wall at the edge of the De Heer Mansion. It was well concealed behind one of the smaller houses for servants. Rachel had just moved in a few months before and had started as one of our new regular drivers. She also taught Isa and me basic self-defense and firearms skills. Let me tell you, as a boy full of hormones, having an eighteen-year-old redhead tomboy basically press herself against you to adjust your and aim was the height of my day.
The wall itself was crumbling, a large chunk having fallen off the top. There were handholds and ivy everywhere. We'd discovered the flaw by chance. Everywhere else, there was barbed wire at the top of the structure. Granted, this was just the interior wall, and there was a sizeable uninhabited area on the other side. Still, it seemed like an opportunity to me.
"She won't see anything, Isa. And who says we have to come back?"
Isa's eyes grew large at the idea of honestly running away. Then they hardened. I didn't particularly understand what that meant, but I did now. For the moment, I was just a foolish boy who wanted to impress the girl he liked: in this case, my twin sister. Isa had deeper thoughts, and looking back, I think that she believed me to be mocking her. She'd always been very sensitive to that sort of thing, at least from me.
"Hmm. I'll tell you what. You go over, and if you can get to the main road and back without being discovered, then I'll go with you the next time. We can go to that stupid diner you keep talking about and everything."
"You mean it?" Even to my own ears, I sounded naively hopeful and excited. Isa smiled like a cat who'd just caught a mouse by its tail.
"I never lie to you," she said, "do I?"
"No, but you can be pretty creative with the truth, or in withholding it," I answered. I wasn't quite as dumb as I sounded.
"Well, in this case, I mean exactly that. If you make it back without being caught, I'll go with you. Otherwise, I'm not really interested in taking the risk."
I nodded, and without another thought, I jumped up. I'd climbed trees on our estate before, and this wasn't much different. It was easier to be honest. I found handholds and pulled myself up. I was in decent shape. Isa was encouraged to exercise a little, but I was pushed hard. Father wanted me to be in prime shape. I kept up that habit even after I'd left the family home and was a mild-mannered academic.
"Ow!"
"Are you all right?" Isa asked, almost letting human concern break through her controlled veneer.
"Yeah. There's still some wire up here, and I guess there's broken glass embedded in concrete up here as well. I cut myself, but its pretty minor."
"Well, be careful. You don't want to mess up your clothes and get mom asking questions."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'll be back soon, you'll see," I said, and then dropped over the other side with what I hoped was daring aplomb.
I looked back briefly. The climb back up would be harder, but there was a tree close by that I could use to get to the top if I couldn't find handholds on the outside of the wall proper. I wasn't worried about that. I had a task to perform, after all.
Getting out to the road was smooth. I ducked behind some bushes when I saw some guards strolling down the main driveway up to our estate, but other than that, it was a quick walk, maybe fifteen minutes. I wasn't unaware of the various electronic sensors and cameras. While my efforts were probably somewhat amateurish, I think I managed to avoid most of them. It didn't matter. Isa had no intention of letting me be caught by machines. That wouldn't be any fun at all.
I'd made it to the street and took a deep breath of the spring air. It felt free out there. It was just a country road, like a million more in America. Here I was just a kid, not someone with wealth I didn't deserve and expectations that I didn't want. I couldn't get Isa to understand this feeling, no matter how hard I tried. She was, I suppose, looking forward to being in control.
I was so enjoying the blue sky and bird song that I never noticed the car creeping up until it was too late. I heard the doors opening and turned around. My first thought was I was about to be kidnapped, but then I saw Rachel behind the driver's wheel and relaxed. I shouldn't have.
Two men, people that I'd known most of my life, who were friendly with me, got out. They wore black suits and stern looks. I'd been caught, but I still didn't understand what was going on. Not until one grabbed me and slammed me on the hood of the car hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs did I fully realize what was happening.
The men probably honestly liked me and were decent people, but I wasn't their employer. My father was, and clearly, he wanted to make an example of me. I knew then that Isa had told him, the fucking brat. Rachel wouldn't meet my eyes as the larger of the two men cuffed my hands behind my back. They used double-locking ones, just like the actual cops. With practiced efficiency, they hauled me into the back seat, seating on either side so that I couldn't make trouble.
"Take us back," one said. Rachel obeyed, driving us smoothly back. I kept my face firm and blank. It's not that I wasn't afraid or worried what was going to happen, I just knew that it would be worse if Father saw me allowing myself to appear weak. I felt weak, in any case.
To my surprise, once we got back, I wasn't led inside, but around to the back. One of the picnic tables had been set up. Father stood there. In the warmth of the sun, he'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, exposing well-muscled forearms. He was smiling, his chiseled features and steel-gray hair making him look more like a hardened soldier than a man born into wealth. Then again, he did like to do his own dirty work.
Mother was there, pristinely dressed as always. She looked at me with such intensity, then stalked off back towards the house. I knew that she was mad at me for my foolishness, but I didn't understand that she couldn't watch what was going to happen. That's when I should have genuinely been worried.
Isa was there, too. She had her hands folded over her chest and a little smirk on her face. I hated her then, more than I ever had before. I couldn't understand her betrayal. Granted, she'd informed on me previously, but that was when we were younger. What had motivated her to do such a thing?
"You're a little old for excursions of this nature, Reuben," Father said, gesturing to the picnic table. One of the thugs slammed me face down on it, harder than he had on the old of the car. My head rebounded off of the hardwood, and I tasted blood. I was bent over now and felt humiliated and terrified. One of the guards held my head while the other stood behind me.
"Stay still," the guard behind me said. I heard the metallic snap of a flick blade opening, then there was a tearing noise as my shirt was cut away. I felt the warm spring air on my back. The blade was put away, and now both of the guards held me down by my arms. I turned my head in a vain attempt to see what was going on. I couldn't, but I could see that I still had an audience of two. Rachel and Isa. The former's eyes were hard, but she was pale. I knew then that she honestly cared about what happened to me. Rachel stood behind Isa, her hands on my sister's shoulders. Isa's face was a surprise to me. Her eyes were huge, and if Rachel was pale, then she was ghostly. No longer was she standing with a confident pose, but both of her hands were closed into tight fists at her side. She had anticipated a different result, maybe a dressing down of some kind. Had someone put her up to this? I saw her open her mouth to say something but shook my head as subtly as possible. Her intervention on my behalf would just make this worse for both of us. I didn't know how, but Father had always been inventive.
"Perhaps I've been too lenient. I've never used the lash on you, Reuben. I find that while it doesn't ensure compliance, it does embed the lesson in both the flesh and the memory."
I couldn't see it at the time, but I learned later that the "lash" was a horsewhip, well over a century old. There hadn't been horses kept here for decades, but the patriarchs of the family had always found a use for it.
The first blow felt like a dull sting, then like sandpaper as he drew the old, rough material over my flesh. The second made me tear up. The third made me cry out. I expected my father to be angry at me for that, but I suppose he expected it. I lost count. I felt my knees go weak, and a warm wetness slowly spread over my back and the sides of my torso. I was shouting with each stroke now. I had no conscious control over my body. The guards were no longer pinning me but instead holding me in place so I wouldn't slide off the table unto the floor.
I know that I didn't lose consciousness for a while after that, but my last perfectly clear memory was that of Isa shaking her head and silently sobbing, before collapsing suddenly. Rachel caught her and lowered her gently to the grass.
I woke to Isa cleaning and dressing my wounds, while simultaneously crying. She nursed me back to health, changed my bandages, and apologized about a thousand times. I had already forgiven her, having seen how much she suffered by watching me in pain. The first few days were the worst for both of us, as the wounds were hideous and required a lot of attention to prevent infection. Although we had an on-site medical specialist, she'd taken on this role as penance, and her gentle and competent care was appreciated. All the doctor did was ensure that the wounds were healing correctly. I knew that he was under instruction from my father to deny me pain medicine, had I asked. I didn't bother.
Eventually, he gave me a shot to help me sleep, which on reflection was quite brave of him.
As Isa was changing my bandages on the second day, I decided to simply ask her the obvious question.
"Why did you do it?"
I didn't have to explain what I meant. Isa's hands froze in mid-movement.
"Reuben, I...I never thought that this would happen. I thought you were childish, and it annoyed me. It reminded me of something father had said a few days ago...so I went and told him."
"What did he say?"
Isa sighed.
"We were just reading together, you know? In the library. He started asking me how I'd make decisions for the company. He showed me some of the things that he was dealing with. I felt close to him. He told me that he wished that you showed the same interest that I had. He said that you needed to grow up. Almost as an aside, he told me to come to him if you did anything silly or childish so that he could have a chat with you. I honestly thought that was all there would be to it."
"You really thought that he'd just have a heart-to-heart in his office and send me to bed without dinner? Maybe ground me for a week?"
I was upset, but even then, the anger had started to fade, ever so slightly. She should have known better. Isa was always the one being praised for her practical thinking. Maybe she did know better. Maybe all this was an act, and she had truly wanted to see me be punished.
I doubted it. I didn't think of Isa as sadistic. It didn't matter. Our father taught us two lessons that day, although we only truly understood the first: to trust no-one, not even family. The second was far beyond us that day. We were still children, even as Isa cared for my injuries and held my hand, and we spoke of things that didn't matter. In the end, we were somehow both more distant and closer than ever before.
* * *
Isa's attempt at being mischievous had created something that she wasn't prepared for and didn't want. She had paid for it, probably more so than I had. When the punishment was complete, it took me weeks to fully heal, but I was accepted as a full member of the household again as if nothing had happened.
After this incident, I knew that our behavior was going to be under scrutiny. Any moderation that our mother might have had on our father's behavior would be ineffective now. We would face much more severe consequences for any misdeeds.
Ironically, that was when Father started letting us out of the house with Rachel or a minimal guard presence. We paid with pain for our freedom, I suppose.
I was only truly beaten three more times before I left home, although my father struck me more casually when I annoyed him. Two of the punishments were for silly rebellious fights as any teen has with their parents, and once after I had turned eighteen. Mother found a set of black lacy panties in my room. When I wouldn't answer her pointed questions about who I was sleeping with, and in fact told her that it was none of her business, she grew angrier than I had ever seen. Father wouldn't have cared, probably, but he didn't like me disrespecting mother, and besides, I wouldn't tell him either.
I took the beating gladly. That time, no one held me down or kept me up. That time, Isa didn't have to witness it, but she waited inside to care for me when it was done. She nursed me as she had before, and as before, we grew closer.
"I'll be more careful next time," was all she said. It was all that needed to be said.
Looking back, I wonder what Mother and Father truly knew.
* * *
I was shaken from these morose memories but a knock at my office door.
"Reuben," Sarah said, peeking in, "Isa would like to speak to you. Alone."
I barely had time to nod before Sarah left, heading in the opposite direction of my sister's office. She had been efficient and professional, but I had seen the stiffness in her step and the odd coldness of her voice. She was excluded from this meeting, and she didn't like it. Interesting.
I strolled down to Isa's workspace. I didn't hurry. It wouldn't do to look as though I was at my sister's beck and call. I was, of course, but appearances had to be maintained for my own pride if for no other reason. How easy it was to slip back into old habits.
I sighed as I knocked and then opened the door and entered without waiting for a response. Isa was sitting on the edge of her desk, looking out over the lawns. There was a fog that seemed to cling to everything that day, and it made the grounds look dreamlike. She looked at me and smiled. She, too, had tension in her posture. To my surprise, rather than sit behind her desk, she came and sat on the couch and patted the space near her. I sat there after a moment.
This was really the closest that we had gotten in the entire time I'd been back. As Isa leaned forward, I caught a faint whiff of wine. That set off internal alarms. She drank very little, as a general rule, both before I left and after I had returned. You made mistakes when you were drunk. You did things that you regretted later. Things like me.
"I...I have a favor to ask of you," Isa said.
"Ask? I was under the impression that I was your minion."
"Please, Reuben. I'm sorry. You've done all that I've asked and more. This is...different."
Her voice was soft and almost pleading, and she couldn't quite meet my eyes.
"All right," I said. I cursed myself because whatever I might say now, I had an urge to help her.
"Do you remember the Brigantine?"
"How could I forget that place?"
"Well, I...I haven't been there myself."
"I went with Father three times. Once on my own."
"What's it like?"
"Beautiful. Stately. Gorgeous people everywhere. Lots of masks. Debauchery of all kinds. The staff all seem happy and are quite...willing, but..."
"But what?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if that place disposed of multiple bodies a night. There's something sinister about it. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since our ancestors helped found it."
"Well...then you probably know better than I do that many of our contacts and relations are with members."
"Yes," I said, "what do you need me to do? Go to a meeting?"
"Um," Isa said, and then looked away. Was she ashamed? "It's more complicated than that. We're members, both of us, by blood. Once father passed, there wasn't any pressure to attend, only occasional requests for money and voting on various decisions. We're still on the board, you know, with the other three families."
"All right," I said, "so what's the problem?"
"Part of being a member is being...complicit...with the other members. You can't blow the whistle on someone that knows about your darker escapades, can you? And I'm told there's a certain bond, especially between men, if they...if they share a woman."
I frowned involuntarily. Although I shouldn't be surprised, I did not like that Isa was aware of what I had had been pushed into many years prior. That was something I had done very reluctantly. It didn't matter that the woman was stunning. I hadn't chosen her, and I couldn't be sure that she was there of her own free will. Not really.
"Yes," I said, simply, "there can be."
"Well," Isa said, "since mother died, the other board members have been getting nervous at our continued absence. Some of them have seen how we've been moving investments around from shadier businesses to legitimate ones. They fear that we're going to divest ourselves from them. More than that, they fear exposure. As one of the four founding families, we have more power and information on what goes on there than anyone else. We could, in theory, ruin a lot of people."
"All right," I said, "so you need me to go and be seen and shake hands and act all chummy? I can do that."
"Yes, but also...more than that. I need you to...participate."
I looked at her, shocked for a moment.
"So you're pimping me out?"
"No," Isa said, looking me in the eyes, "I'm not I just...I can't. I can't do it. You can."
"Isa, I'm willing to go. I don't really want to, to be honest, but I'll do it. Why can't you though? You're an adult, you're available, well, mostly. I think Sarah would understand, given that you share her with me."
"It's different for women. I made inquiries," Isa said, coldly, "and the expectations would be...more severe."
"More severe?"
"I'd have to...service...more than one man. Probably members of the other families. Maybe fuck more than one too. Things can get rough."
"God. That shouldn't shock me, but...I guess it still does. How did you find out?"
Isa laughed bitterly.
"Oh, they don't hide it. I simply asked. Then they told me quite plainly what would be done to me, at a minimum. They assured me that no permanent harm would come to me, but I would be expected, if I was indeed the head of the family, to 'demonstrate obeisance' to at least three men. I objected, and then they politely informed me that our mother had no such problems."
"Mom went there? Father allowed that?"
"Yes, and I think it was before they were together. You know that her side of the family's always been a bit of a mystery. Well, apparently, before they were married, our mother was sent there as...as a learning experience. I found her diaries after she had passed and she wrote all about it. It made me ill, but I read all of it. I had to."
"Jesus," I said, sitting back in the plush leather and trying not to think about our mother, who had generally been good to us as children, being roughly used by older men, "well, all right. I'm going then, it's decided. I would never let someone put you through that."
"Thank you, Reuben. You don't know what it means. Truly. I...I can't bear to be touched by men. It makes me panic and...and...this would be torture. I'd break, and make us all look weak. I'd be weeping and useless and..."
"Hey," I said, more softly. I wanted to embrace her then, to tell her that it would be all right, but I was very aware of her boundaries. "I know things happened while I was gone. I'm not stupid. If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen. In the meantime, if I can help by going, I will. That should reassure the rest of the board that we're still just as bad as they are."
"Thank you," Isa said again, tears in her eyes. Then she touched me on the leg, an offhand movement of unthinking familiarity, but jerked back as if she'd been shocked. Perhaps I would have taken it personally if I didn't see the look in her eyes, full and afraid like a deer about to be claimed by a wolf.
Even then, I didn't have a real understanding of what had happened in my absence. Sometimes I wish that I was still so ignorant.
"Well," Isa said, wiping her eyes quickly and standing, suddenly all business again, "If you like, I can find someone...appropriate for you. A partner who would be receptive and safe for you."
I laughed, and she looked over at me.
"You seem to be choosing all the women in my bed lately. Well, I'll trust you here. Sarah has been...extraordinary. I imagine anyone you pick from the Brigantine will be someone I enjoy, and who would be there willingly."
For a moment, I thought I'd gone too far by mentioning Sarah so casually like that, but Isa smiled. Sarah was someone she cared about. Someone we both cared about, to be honest. Not a toy, or a prize to be fought over, but a valued friend, confidant, and lover. And, as twins, I suppose we were somewhat accustomed to sharing everything.
As the conversation turned to lesser things like travel arrangements and appropriate clothing, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person Isa would pick for me. Would she be young? Mature? Demure? Forward?
Time would tell. I ignored the part of me that was excited that my sister was choosing my partner. Much like having sex with Sarah, it felt like this was a way of making love to Isa by proxy. And that was, despite my internal denials, something that I wanted very much.
I wished that Isa wanted that too.
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The Brigantine
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The day of the event was a bit odd. Isa was quite nervous and kept checking in on me and asking me if I was sure that I wanted to go through with it. It seemed like she felt as if she were imposing or asking a great favor of me, but it did not feel that way to me. The idea of anonymously fucking a willing and beautiful woman did have a certain appeal. Someone that I could use and then leave, never have to see or worry about again. Someone that might expect to be a little bruised at the end of a good fucking. In any case, I got dressed in my recently tailored tuxedo, passed a brief inspection by Sarah, who gave me a special card for my rendezvous and headed out to the front, where Rachel was waiting for me with a limo.
"Very nice," Rachel said, opening the door for me, a wry smile on her face.
"Thank you," I said, adding, "I've always liked a woman in uniform, myself."
Rachel chuckled, but she basically wore men's suits that were tailored for her form, and her form was beautiful. Tonight she was in all black and white, the epitome of the professional, short auburn hair arranged to perfection, held with a simple band.
And, as I may have observed before, her ass was still fantastic. The drive would be two hours, but air travel there wouldn't be optimal for reasons of both security and profile. I had to be seen, but I didn't need to be noticed by everyone, just a few people. I allowed myself to be lulled by the sound of the road and the soft classical music playing from the front seat. I dozed, feeling safe.
* * *
We were close to the Brigantine when Rachel spoke again
"Safety check."
"Really?"
I woke, alert, and a little annoyed at the old instruction.
"Yes, really. There have been a few changes."
I turned to the minibar, beneath it was a small panel, I depressed it, and it opened with a swift click. Inside two matte black handguns with matching holsters that sat next to several magazines and what looked like smartwatches. I took one of the pistols out, careful to keep my finger off of the trigger. I verified that there was a round in the chamber, then checked the magazine. The ammunition was slightly larger than I expected. All was done swiftly and with care. I put the holster on under my jacket. Most people couldn't walk armed into the Brigantine, but things were different for the Founding Families.
"Safety check confirmed. You got rid of the Sig Sauers," I said.
"Yeah," Rachel answered, "Glocks aren't perfect, per se, but they're very reliable and maybe better for amateurs. Isa also requested that I up them to .40 caliber. You should go out back and fire a few rounds when you have some spare time."
"All right," I said.
"Grab one of the smartwatches, too. It tells the time and has some other apps on it, but most of them are for show. You'll get fake mail on it in case anyone thinks you're stupid enough to utilize wifi for that sort of thing. The important thing is the button recessed into the bottom. Do you see it?"
While she spoke, I'd taken one out and put it on my wrist. The band was magnetic and adjustable and fit well. The button wasn't prominent, but I found it and realized that it had an indent in it for a thumb that would make it easy to find without looking.
"Yes. What does it do? Explode?"
Rachel laughed.
"Better. It sounds an alarm, and then I explode. It also notifies our security network. They can't be here, for obvious reasons, but they have a helicopter on standby."
As I slid the panel back into place, Rachel had taken the final turn to the small, almost-residential road leading to the Brigantine. In the dark, the trees seemed to cluster around us, making us feel isolated. I knew that cameras, sensor networks, and armed men were around us even then. This was a place where the ultra-rich gathered to misbehave in shocking and nearly-always illegal ways. It was as secure as anywhere could be.
As Rachel parked, I stilled my breath and looked out at the magnificent mansion. It looked like someone had cut a chunk of Versaille out and dropped right in the middle of an American forest.
"I don't like this," Rachel said, after long consideration.
"It's your job not to like this. If it makes you feel better, I don't like parts of this either."
"Really? It's an excuse to fuck hot women. I thought you'd be excited."
"Rachel, I worry about the women and men employed here. There's too much money, power, and secrecy. I can't help but think that some are here voluntarily while others are bought and sold like livestock."
"I know that they are Reuben. I'm glad that you've given it some thought. She thinks you're like your dad sometimes, but you're really not. Not at all."
I looked over at Rachel, and we shared a smile. We both knew that she'd paid me a compliment.
I got out and slipped on the silver demi-mask that Isa had given me. It was Venetian, I was sure of it, and it was masculine with hints of wolfish features. Perfect for a place like this. I knew that it matched my simple black tux. I stood before Rachel.
"How do I look?"
"Like a dangerous predator. Are you sure you don't just want to stay out here and fuck me?"
We laughed, but I could tell by the way her hands sat on my chest that she was at least partially serious. I found it odd, to an extent. She was never one to be jealous, and she knew how important it was that I made a good impression. She reminded me one more time of the switch on my watch, and let me go.
The gravel crunched under my feet as I approached the door. The guards might have been dressed in carnival finery, but they still had matte black submachine-guns slung over their shoulders. This was a center of power, and they wanted everyone to know it.
The interior was shocking to me the first time I'd attended. All was dark, muted. The only lights were from gas lamps scattered appropriately around. The walls were covered in draperies of deep reds, purples, and blacks. The stairs were stained ebony black, and everywhere were couches, recesses, places where people were coupling. The masks we all wore didn't keep me from recognizing people. They were there for plausible deniability and nothing more. I nodded to a few people, mostly friends of my family and associates of my father. I needed them to see me there and see me as both confident and powerful.
Every man was in a tuxedo, and every woman accompanying them was in an elegant, if sometimes skimpy, gown. The only exceptions were the women and men who belonged to the club. They were dressed in lingerie or nothing at all. Some were painted in garish colors. Others wore girdles and tight leather. A woman in what looked to be a three-thousand dollar dress was on all fours on a table, pleasuring one man with her mouth while another fucked her roughly from behind. I didn't recognize the men, but I went to college with her my freshman year. She seemed to be enjoying herself, at least, and I hoped what she was doing was voluntary. The truth was that there was no way to know. There were more methods of coercion than violence, and manipulation could form chains as unbreakable as iron.
Part of me wanted to rush upstairs, fuck my preselected partner, and get out. I didn't feel good about any of that, but Isa assured me that she'd made sure that I would be with someone who was there voluntarily and who wouldn't be forced into having sex with me. She wouldn't lie about that.
Unfortunately, I needed to be seen by damn near everyone. I was, in theory, on the inner circle here. Even if it rarely met officially any more, it was a thing of importance, and my family hadn't been present in far too long. That became evident shortly.
I decided to spend some time and make some friends, in as much as any of these people were capable of friendship. I found a table where people were playing some pool. Not even billiards but honest-to-god 8-ball. Thank god for small miracles. I was soon drinking expensive whiskey and joking as I played in turns with others. The joviality was relaxing me a little. Despite the suits and masks, it was at least somewhat like being back in college. Both men and women participated. One woman in a green gown of startling clinginess and a black cat mask always managed to bend over to take her shots right in front of me. After the third time, she'd found an excuse to briefly grind on my leg, I found out that she had a date. Whoops. I was lining up my own shot when I heard a sneering voice behind me.
"Goddammit, De Heer, you could at least have some fucking dignity. There's no need to cheat."
His voice didn't carry far, but silence reigned in a small circle around the table. I stood and turned, pulling a stray ball out of the pocket and tossing it and catching it casually. He had a reddish-gold fox mask, gaudy, and with what appeared to be real jewels in it. He stood with the false confidence of youth, and I could see that the woman who had been flirting with me was whispering something in his ear, perhaps trying to calm him down. He grabbed her forearm hard enough to make her whimper and then shoved her aside.
If I had any qualms of making an example of him before that, they no longer applied. I walked over to him and was thankful for Isa's impromptu history lesson earlier.
"Cheating is a strong accusation."
"Well, if you don't like being accused, don't do it."
"I didn't, but I suppose that doesn't matter."
He laughed.
"What, you think that the De Heer blood protects you from consequences?"
"Yes," I said, stepping into his personal space suddenly. He didn't fold, but I didn't expect him too. He probably worked out, just like I did. But his father hadn't taught him the things that mine had about sudden violence, self-defense, and how to dominate those beneath you.
"Be careful," he said, the faintest quiver in his voice. He was afraid, but also a little eager. He wanted to fight.
"My grandfather beat a man to death, right here, you know. A man accused him of cheating at cards and wouldn't withdraw his complaint, so he beat him to death with an oak chair. Then he went back to his game. Do you know what happened to him?"
"No."
"He won the next hand while they cleaned up the body."
I let the silence hang in the air between us. When I had walked over, I had intended to intimidate him, perhaps making an impression on others. I realized then that things had gone too far, and that were he to maintain his accusation, I would have to act. I would have to kill him.
To my disgust, the idea of beating him to death excited me. I felt the smooth, cold weight of the ball in my hand. It could crush a skull if appropriately used. A few blows to the temple would do nicely to start. I was about to strike when he played his last card.
"Do...do you have any idea who I am?"
I smiled, and I knew my grin matched the wolfishness of my mask.
"No," I said simply. I could feel rather than see his collapse. He knew that he had pushed too hard and too far. There were ways that he could have embarrassed me, had he been more intelligent, but he had chosen physical confrontation, and over the date that he had arrived with. I mean, this was literally a place where group sex and spouse swapping was considered relatively vanilla. You didn't take a woman here that you wanted all to yourself. He appeared weak and foolish.
"Fine ...it's nothing to me," he said and stalked off. After a moment, the green-gowned woman looked at me briefly, and I could see her considering whether or not to speak.
"Please excuse us, sir. I apologize for the...misunderstanding."
She said it with deference and dignity that belied her situation, then turned and followed her companion into the milling group. I made a note of both of them. That he'd known me by sight hadn't shocked me, the masks were for plausible deniability more than anything else, but the fact that he used my name broke one of the oldest rules of the Brigantine. Maybe Rachel could find their identities for me. It wouldn't do to be surprised later.
I turned back to my game, conversation springing up around me again as if nothing had happened. I took a few more shots, controlling my fear, although I could still feel the adrenaline telling me to flee or fight or just shake. I kept Isa's advice in my head and did none of them: Show no weakness.
After about twenty minutes, I finished my whiskey and headed to the stairs. There was a nude girl at the top, maybe nineteen years old, covered in gold paint. She engagingly smiled at me, and I felt a sudden and almost overwhelming urge to take her, right there in the hall. A little voice in my head reminded me that while some might be shocked, no one would stop a De Heer from fucking a nameless woman on the plush carpet, even if I hurt her. Sometimes I disgusted myself. She held out her hand, and before I did something to embarrass myself, I handed her the card that Isa had provided. The hostess looked at it, then turned and led me down the hall. We turned three times, each time the hall getting a little more narrow. At the end of the last, was a door. The girl gestured to it, then when back to her post at the top of the stairs. It was quiet. The plush red carpeting was deep and seemed to absorb all sound.
There was a note on the door, handwritten in neat, flowing lettering. It was feminine and bold, and a little familiar, in the way that all neat cursive writing is.
Use me how you wish, for I am yours.
-Tonya
I felt the same sort of urge as I did just a few moments ago, but now, I couldn't hold it back. If she wanted me to use her, then I would. I entered without knocking and closed the door behind me quickly.
The room was even darker than the general ambiance of the Brigantine. I stood still for a moment and let my eyes adjust. It didn't pay to act too hastily before you knew the situation, or so my father had taught me. Slowly the scene in front of me became more visible.
It was a bedroom, unsurprisingly. The floor was covered in the same red plush carpet, and there was a fire in the small marble hearth which filled the room with warmth and even a bit of cheer. Along the walls were couches and frames, for a variety of activities, most involving chain and rope. The bed itself wasn't very large, but it looked comfortable, dark mahogany wood with golden silk sheets. Naturally, my eyes were drawn to who reclined on them.
Each of us, I think, has an ideal of beauty that they are attracted to (for those of us who feel sexual or romantic desire). It can be the same as society's, or it can be completely different. From what I could see of her, Tonya fit my ideal almost perfectly. She had an hourglass figure, with full hips and breasts. I forced myself not to be reminded of the other woman that I knew who had curves like her. I was painfully hard.
Tonya was on the bed, presented to me as if a gift. Her arms were bound to the bedposts, but her legs were free to writhe and squirm. She was obviously already excited. She wore a bodysuit of what looked like perfectly fitted latex, black and glossy. It covered almost all of her, leaving her mouth and nose free, but not even slits for eyes. There was, of course, an opening where I could see her swollen and wet vulva. I took off my jacket and laid it on a nearby chair
"So you must be Tonya," I said, removing the gun and holster and placing it carefully near the jacket.
Tonya nodded enthusiastically. What I could see of her skin was pale but gleamed in the light. Her lipstick was a deep, almost obscene shade of red. She smiled.
"I'm to do what I want with you," I said as I took my shoes off and placed them by the foot of the bed.
Tonya giggled.
"So does that mean I can take your suit off? It's not like you could stop me." I knew the answer, but I wanted to see her afraid. I took off my belt and pants.
Tonya's expression grew serious, and she bit her lip, shaking her head vehemently.
"Let me guess. You're someone that might have a lot to lose back in the world if anyone knew that you were into these games. But you have needs that only sex with a brutal stranger can meet." I stripped out of my underwear and socks. I was enjoying drawing this out.
Tonya smiled again and gave a hesitant nod. There was something of a little girl to her movements like she was teasing or taunting me. It made me angry. I climbed on the bed, and she gasped. I reached out and grabbed her breast. I did it hard, testing her. She moaned but did not protest, pushing back into my hand. I let her go, knowing that I had bruised her. I ran the back of my hand down the side of her face, and she shuddered.
"I'm going to be harsh with you. You understand that, right?"
Tonya nodded, and I ran my thumb over her full lips. She sucked it into her mouth, and I felt her tongue exploring it as if it were my cock.
"Good girl," I said, removing my hand. Then I slapped her once, hard across the face. Tonya cried out, and I recognized the familiar mix of pleasure, pain, arousal, and fear. Yes, my sister had chosen her very well.
"Spread your legs," I ordered. Tonya instead squeezed them together and tried to look pouty. She wasn't bad at it, but I knew what she needed. I slapped her again, this time with the back of my hand. Both times had been controlled, hard enough to sting, but not to bruise or cause serious harm. I'd had enough experience to understand these things. Tonya moaned and sobbed, and her legs parted.
"God, you're beautiful," I said, thrusting my finger inside of her without any warning. She was tight and wet and ready. Fuck, I wasn't sure I'd ever felt a woman so ready. She moaned and tried to roll her hips back at my hand.
"Do you know who I am?"
Tonya paused, then shook her head.
"You're a bad liar, Tonya," I said, pistoning two fingers inside of her while I abused her little clit with my other hand. She moaned again, this time so loud it made the room reverberate.
"You understand that knowing who I am makes you more dangerous to me, and therefore puts your life in danger too," I said, never stopping my fingers. She nodded and shook all over as she came. It was as though she was trying to resist the orgasm from taking her uselessly. I knew what she wanted, so it was easy to coax them out of her. She wanted fear and a powerful man to hurt her, dominate her, use her. I pulled my fingers out, and she cried out, rolling her hips forward and lifting them in the air, begging with her body for more.
"Do you know how many girls my family has killed here? Not even I do. I haven't murdered anyone. Not yet, anyway," I moved over her, squeezing and then kissing and biting her breast through the tight latex, and sliding my engorged cock over her slit, but not entering her. I moved closer, to her ear, and whispered.
"You're so perfect. Why I might have to strangle you afterward to make sure that no one else gets a chance to defile you..."
Tonya didn't react at first, and for a moment I was worried that I'd pushed her too far, then I felt her body. She was tight and shuddering. She'd come again, and I knew that most of it had been from my words. I waited for a moment, gave her a chance to fall limp.
Then I rammed my cock inside of her in one smooth motion, giving her no time to prepare or stop me. I buried myself deep, and I did it hard. Tonya gasped, and I wondered if I had hit her cervix. It was too late for me to care, however. The games had aroused me. Now I lost control.
I'm ashamed of how it played out after that.
I slammed into her, hard, again, and again. I was fast. I heard her moan and cry out over and over. I mauled her neck through the latex and bit her, hard. At that moment, Tonya was every woman who I'd ever wanted and been frustrated by. She was Nina, so far away, and Rachel, with her strange teasing, Sarah with her half-truths. She was my mother, loving but distant.
Mostly, though, she was Isa. Isa, that bitch who said she loved me but let me go as if I never mattered at all. The cold-hearted woman who dragged me back with threats and played with me. I wanted her so badly at that moment. I wanted to punish her. I wanted to hold her.
I'd lost track of my actions, and I was fucking her hard enough to leave severe bruises. Tonya was simply doing her best to ride it out. She never said no. In fact, she never said anything, but it didn't matter for much longer.
I was close, nearly there. I felt my hand close around her throat, in the way another lover so enjoyed, right at the moment of orgasm. I wasn't careful enough, I was fierce, and I came. Her expression changed from pleasure to shock, but she came again none the less, much harder than before, and her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, holding me.
I came, again and again, filling her. I didn't care if she was bruised inside and out. I didn't care that she couldn't breathe. I wanted to fill her with my child and never speak to her again. I wanted to ruin her. I wanted to die.
I released her throat, and she dragged in a long and ragged breath. Thank god. I was shaking.
"Good...girl," I managed to get out. I undid the straps holding her arms, one at a time. To my surprise, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in. She kissed me passionately. I responded. We were both very grateful to one another for what had happened, although I reviled myself for how I had lost control and how much aggression I had in me towards the women in my life. I was damaged like my father, but I couldn't blame him for this.
After a while, we stopped kissing, and I rolled over, and she lay on my chest. I caressed her back gently. Apparently, she had nowhere to be, as soon her breathing was coming regularly and slowly. She slept as only the well-fucked can, deep, and satisfied.
I slid out from under her. She made a noise of protest but did not wake. I dressed and left, closing the door quietly behind me.
* * *
The trip back was uneventful. Rachel, seeing my expression, left me alone. Inside I was a strange mix of relaxation, self-loathing, and anger. I had to get the latter under control. I had to. I never wanted to hurt someone beyond what they wanted. I went to the study in the back of the manse, where I'd spent many evenings reading or talking to Isa or Rachel. I'd replaced the gun and holster back into the compartment in the car. I took off my jacket and loosened my bow tie, then I poured myself a whiskey and sat down. Despite my internal conflict, I felt terrific. Fulfilled. It had been a very long time since sex had made me feel this good. It somehow made me feel more guilty, as the sex with Sarah was also excellent, but it didn't meet my need for cruelty. I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Wake up," a voice said. It was firm and commanding. I did.
"Oh," I snapped, without thinking, annoyed at being pulled out of a restful sleep "it's you..."
Isa stood before me, dressed in relaxed jeans and an elegant black turtleneck sweater. She must of gotten back from her trip early. Or I'd been asleep for longer than I had intended. Her facade cracked a bit and her small smile turned down. I could see the beginning of tears in her eyes, which made no sense to me at all. Regardless, I hadn't meant to be such an asshole.
"Do you really hate me that much?" Isa asked.
I took a deep breath. I was too tired to lie to myself or her.
"I don't hate you. I hate myself. I'm just taking it out on you. I'm sorry."
Isa looked less sad, but her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Why?"
"Because," I sighed, "because I almost attacked someone at the party. Because I took this girl, Isa. I really took her. I was brutal with her. I couldn't stop myself. And when I was done with her, I felt fantastic. I lost control, Isa. I could have really hurt her. In fact, I just let her fall asleep afterwards. I never even asked if she was okay."
I felt a dim sort of panic and made to stand up, but Isa smiled at me, very gently, and pushed me back down. She sat next to me, close, like she would have many years ago.
"Then perhaps you need to think less. If she would have been hurt beyond what...what she wanted, then I would have been informed. If she wanted you to use her and you did, then both of you are happy. This was consensual. I was also informed of the verbal altercation. You didn't attack him. You were ready, and you didn't back down. Normally both of us would think that to be juvenile behavior but I know that you did it for the appearance of strength. For the family. For me. Don't think I'm not appreciative. Besides, Tonya did leave a rather glowing review, as it were."
Isa smiled again. She had obviously had some kind of report from Rachel or someone else at the Brigantine, but I had expected that. Without thinking, I put my arm around her, as I would have many years ago. She flinched back, hard, almost standing up. It was so fast that I was stunned. I was hurt for a moment before I saw her eyes. There was real fear there. I was suddenly aware that I had been gone for many years, and had no idea of what might have happened to the girl that I knew and loved all those years ago.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry. I...I don't like to be touched by men without warning first. I swear it's not you at all, it's something that... I've developed."
"Then I won't touch you again without your permission," I said, feeling stupid. Isa nodded and smiled again. Then, cautiously, slowly, as if she were deer exploring a place to spend the night, she moved into me. She leaned into my arm, wrapping her own around it. After a moment, she moved it, so I was holding her around her shoulders, and she curled into my chest.
Isa was, at that moment, the most vulnerable I'd seen her since I left those many years ago. She cried softly, for reasons that I did not understand, but I could tell that she was grateful for the contact. I held her close to myself, and we sat there for a long time before we went to our separate beds.
I felt, not for the first time that something else was going on here, something that I couldn't quite see.
I had to figure out what I was missing. If not for my sake, then for Isa's.
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Clues
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If I was going to live in the family home, then I couldn't afford to be naive or ignorant. I started digging. I wasn't subtle about it, but I didn't exactly tell anyone either. My residency before this had focussed on getting acquainted with the business side of things, and that continued. I had a flight early the next week that would take me through the east coast holdings and then out to the Caribbean for a few days. I'd get about a half-hour of sun because I'd be there to meet the various shady bankers and fund-managers that we relied on to keep our wealth secret and safe. I found out on the way that the entire island was a De Heer property, vaguely associated with the Bahamas but ours in reality.
In the meantime, I started my investigation by getting to know the numerous staff in and around the manse. It wasn't truly all in use. The west wing was closed, and we wouldn't re-open unless we had a lot of overnight guests. It was something like a hotel over there if hotels had bespoke rooms for different tastes and requirements. Outside the manse, there were around twenty buildings in various states of use. I visited most of them, especially the barracks, where the security staff stayed when they were "on assignment." They typically worked here for two weeks and then rotated out for a month. They were intentionally insulated from the inner workings of the manse, even at the level of security for the De Heer organization. The closest thing to someone "in charge" was Rachel, and I would have to be very careful about how I approached her. She was professional enough to protect the secrets of her employers and friends.
The groundskeepers were polite and efficient, but they were even more isolated from the manse than the security staff. They mostly lived in town. Also, if they saw something, they were so well paid (and had actual benefits in an age where corporations continuously canceled pensions) that they wouldn't talk about it.
That left the people who worked inside the house itself. There were around 20 "general staff." This included maids, assistants, and cooks. All wore black and white uniforms that varied according to their roles. The suit was necessary. It told us, and any privileged guests, who was available for free use.
They knew that they were there to do a job and to be our sexual servants. It was that simple. All were attractive, although they varied tremendously in look and personality, save that they had a predisposition to submission and service, and a tendency to avoid monogamy. That might change later in life, but it was an excellent way to make a lot of money in a relatively short time. Most stayed for five years. There was one particularly attractive woman named Senga, tall, olive-skinned, blonde, and very fit, who had been here even when I was a child. She had been one of Father's favorites, I think, because she could take anything he threw at her and be back up and ready again in under a week.
Since everyone else was new or simply had no frame of reference for the questions I needed answered, I started with her. She had a room in the northern tower, towards the top. I waited until she was off duty and ensured via the simple and frankly intrusive RFID card scanning app on my phone that she was in her room. Then I walked up the spiral staircase and knocked.
Senga answered quickly and smiled broadly. She was in her mid or even late forties, but she still looked stunning. Perhaps not in the Cosmo fashion, but she was slender, athletic, and tall. She dressed in simple tights and a pullover for the night. Every part of her looked toned, and her brown eyes were as I remembered them, soulful and intelligent. The room was large, but that was all there was, except for a bathroom. Her bed was on one side, a kitchenette on the other, a small set of shelves was scattered arranged in the remaining free space, filled with a wide variety of books. She didn't have very much space at all. What she did have was one of the best views in the building; three-quarters of the walls had windows.
"Sir," she said with an appropriately demure smile, "Would you like to come in?"
She didn't miss a beat. From surprised to inviting and welcoming in seconds. I entered.
"Thank you," I said, "It's late, and you're off duty, so I'll try to be quick."
"I think we both know that I'm never really off duty, and there's no need to rush," Senga said, running her hand down my chest.
"Oh, uh," I said, having had no thought whatsoever as to how my visit would be interpreted, "I, um...actually, I'm here just to ask some questions."
"Oh," Senga said, with an adorable pout, "well come in. I'm making some tea if you'd like some."
"Thank you. It's cold up here."
She smiled as I sat down at her small table.
"It is, but that's how I love to sleep. And the view is just wonderful."
"I was surprised to see that you were still here. Pleasantly so."
Senga laughed, pouring steaming water into a mug for me.
"Did you expect me to leave after your father passed? Oh, I hope you like mint."
"I love mint. Thank you." I sipped the tea carefully as Senga sat down, then looked up in surprise. "This was my father's favorite."
She laughed again, delighted.
"I thought you'd like it. I'm pleased that you remember. You're a lot like him."
I managed to only flinch a little bit at the intended compliment.
"I suppose I am. What made you stay after my father passed?"
"Well...to be honest. I never intended to. I was going to do five years and then leave. But...I fell in love with this place...and at least a little bit with your father. Is that weird to hear?"
It was my turn to laugh.
"It might be, but this is a weird family."
"I guess it is. The thing is, I knew that I never would be your father's only woman. I never intended to replace your mother. I had no illusions about romance, in any case. It started as a job, then turned into more. When your father died, it was hard for me, and I was honestly preparing to leave. I thought most of us would be fired. But your mother kept me on, even promoted me. I'm good at organization and administration, and I guess she knew it. The money is still good, the benefits are wonderful, and I get to live here. It won't last forever, but nothing does."
"Hmm...and you don't have any problem with...with the arrangements?"
"You mean with having to fuck whoever you want me to? No. I date, of course. A lot of us do, but I keep it casual and tell them that I'm not exclusive. And...I mean, let's be honest. You haven't exactly been taking advantage of our services."
"It feels...wrong."
Senga laughed at that as though it were the funniest thing in the world.
"I mean...wow. You're so much like him. You look like him when I first met him. I was eighteen then, you know. But you're also so different. It's all right to use us. We're here for that. Some people love it. I know that I do."
Senga put her hand on mine, and I didn't move it.
"So...you've probably seen a lot then."
For the first time, I saw her smile fade. I got the impression that she was a very open person. My father would have found that uniquely appealing, given all the false fronts he dealt with.
"Yes. I guess you're not really here to get to know me."
"No. I'd like that, though."
"All right. What do you want to know about?"
"What happened while I was gone. Specifically, in my family, not the business or the manse."
"A lot happened, Sir."
"Call me Reuben. Please."
A faint trace of her earlier smile returned.
"Your father told me to call him Rudi. Anyway, Reuben, a lot happened."
"What about with my sister, Isa?"
"There was something...I...Reuben...I don't know if I should talk about this. I don't want to violate her privacy. I know that you're my employer, but..."
I didn't disabuse her of her notions of who controlled the money.
"I'm not doing this because I want to have something over her or to hurt her. I'd never do that. I want to help her, or at least understand what's going on. I feel like I'm missing something, and while I understand that what happened in her work life, I'm concerned that it's having a severe impact on her life."
"You won't tell her that I spoke to you?"
"If she asks, I'll say I just came here for amazing sex."
Senga laughed, then grew more somber.
"Fine. At some point, after you left, your father changed. He got darker. I know he hurt your mother. I don't think it was precisely abusing her, or at least she wouldn't have described it that way. He loved her, you know." I nodded, and she went on. "He hurt her more. He was much rougher with me. I thought I'd done something wrong, but, again, I could take it. It took me longer to recover, and once...once, he choked me out completely. I really thought that I was going to die. When I came to the on-duty nurse was there with me, and your father was standing behind her. He looked very concerned, which worried, and if I'm honest, flattered me a little. He never allowed himself to show that."
"He must have been...out of control." I couldn't help but think about my incident with Tonya. How close had I come to choking her just a little too much, or hitting her a little too hard? "So, he got worse. Do you think Isa knew?"
For the first time in our conversation, Senga looked away, out the window.
"Yes. She definitely knew. He hurt her or allowed someone else to. I don't know how or why, but...he did."
"As badly as he hurt me?"
"You mean the beatings? God, that was awful. I'm sorry that you had to go through with it. No, I don't think he hit her...at least not so bruises would show but...Reuben, this is very hard to say. I loved your father, but I think someone was sexually abusing your sister, and he knew about it. Even allowed it."
I must have looked like an idiot with my jaw open, tea forgotten halfway to my lips. My mouth was dry, and I could hear my blood pulsing in my ears.
"Did you witness this?"
"Somewhat. I caught him leaving one of the drawing rooms that he used to entertain small groups of guests. He was with someone that he obviously thought was important. Older, obviously being treated like a VIP, but I never learned his name. I went in to clean up after them and save some work for the maids. Isa was in there, sort of sitting on the desk. She was crying, her shirt was torn, and she was pulling her skirt back down. Of course, I recognized the smell of sex right away. I didn't know her well, and I didn't want to make things worse, so I left before she noticed me. Around that time was when Isa started to get more distant. She probably thought she was hiding her feelings well, but I'd known her or at least observed her for a long time. The difference was obvious to me. I know what you're going to say. Why didn't I do something or call someone?"
I shook my head.
"I'm not going to say that, Senga, because there was nothing you could have done, not really. Whoever you called would have likely been in Father's pocket. Whatever you did to intervene might lead to your death or Isa's situation getting worse. I...I think I feared this was the case. I wonder if...if it was happening while I was still here." It would explain why Isa wouldn't leave with me, but Senga shook her head.
"No. I mean, she was depressed after you left. You were close, obviously. But she recovered as best she could. This happened maybe a year or so later. Honestly, your return has been the best thing for her. She's been more open and outgoing then I've seen her in years, even with your mother's death. Please...please be gentle with her. Whatever the circumstances, I guarantee you that she was under duress and alone."
If what I was seeing was an improvement in Isa then I had reason to be worried. I looked at Senga. Did she know about Isa and me? It was possible. We tried to be secretive, but we were basically hormone-driven eighteen-year-olds. No, she simply feared that my response to finding out about what happened might be the same as my father at his worst: punish everyone, ask questions later.
"I won't, Senga. You've been a big help, and I won't forget it."
I finished my tea and stood up to leave. She caught up with me at the door.
"If you want to pay me back, come visit me some night when you're not on business. I promise I'll make you happy, and if what Sarah says is true, then you'll make me very happy."
She giggled charmingly and closed the door. I hadn't expected Sarah to gossip about me. Ironically, Senga had mentioned my other nagging concern. Sarah. What did she know? Isa trusted her, but could I? Did she have an agenda? Perhaps I was paranoid, but I had a notion that she was holding something back from me.
I had to find out what.
* * *
"So," Sarah said at dinner a few nights later, "I found out who the jerk was like you asked."
I smiled at her, and she blushed under my pleased reaction. It was hard not to like someone so cute.
"Really? That was fast."
"Who is the, uh, 'jerk'?"
Isa looked at both of us in confusion, and I chuckled. Sarah answered for both of us.
"The 'jerk' is the man who tried to start trouble with Reuben last week at the Brigantine. I made some calls today. They were all about denial and discretion until I demonstrated that I was calling on behalf of the De Heer family. Then I got the security footage and gave it to Rachel. She ran it through the facial recognition programs that our security staff has. The masks made it difficult, but I asked her to just run them against people of a particular net value or higher, you know, people that your father might have offended or been in business with. The only person who matches his height, weight, and facial characteristics is Vincent Trevante."
I didn't know who she meant, but Isa did.
"Hmm," Isa said, "he's young. About our age. And if I'm not mistaken, he recently inherited access to the Trevante Syndicate. That's what they call themselves. They're a bit like us, in that they have a polite legal facade and then a deep connection with various unsavory types. I think that they specialize in smuggling and human trafficking. They don't have the kind of wealth and influence we do, but they certainly aren't to be ignored."
"Well," I said, "then I suppose we should keep an eye out for any moves he could make against us. I have no idea why he wanted to cause trouble with me, however."
"He's a man, driven by arrogance and insecurity," Isa said bluntly, "He probably just wanted to make himself look more powerful by bringing you down. It certainly backfired on him."
"You're probably right," I said in return, then added, "Good job, Sarah. I expected that to take a week, not a day."
Sarah blushed and locked eyes with me. She was pleased by my praise, and I knew by the look she had just given me that she'd visit me later that evening. I looked forward to it.
* * *
I heard the knock at my door, perhaps a little later than I had expected. That wasn't the only surprise. I wasn't prepared for the sight I beheld when I opened the door.
Typically, Sarah and I were reasonably causal in how we dressed for our night encounters. Whether I went to her or she came to me, we were basically just in what we liked to sleep in. One of us might bring a bag with toys or a change if we intended to stay the night (the house was big enough to feel like less like a mansion and more like a series of apartments). Sarah usually slept in an oversized tee-shirt and boy shorts-style underwear. There was no doubt that she made that outfit look amazing, but she was really dolled up tonight.
Sarah had her hair done neatly, and her makeup was simple and in a "natural" style that I knew took a lot of time to get right. Her lipstick was a bright, shameless red that I loved on her. She wore a loosely belted and very short black robe. As I watched, she indeed the belt and let it open to reveal what was underneath. She wore a white, lacy bustier, which pushed her small breasts up as if holding them for display. It only had a half cup for support, so all of the top and half of each nipple was revealed for my enjoyment. Her panties were tiny and sheer. I could easily see that she had shaved entirely, and the transparent material couldn't hide how swollen and wet she was. I didn't know what the occasion was, and to be honest, I didn't much care. I knew that I wanted her badly.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her inside quickly. She yelped and giggled in surprise, and then slipped out of my grip as I shut the door. I was left holding only the black silk robe, which I carelessly cast on a chair. Sarah sat down on the bed, crossing her legs with false modesty, before sitting back and posting as pretty as any pin-up. She patted the bed next to her, and I sat eagerly. It was a bit unusual to see her taking charge, but we both were enjoying it. Sarah leaned in and whispered into my ear.
"Can I tell you something naughty?"
Sarah's tone was teasing, but beneath it, there was a hint of something else, perhaps nervousness.
"Yes," I said, and before I could say more, she leaned into me and kissed me, slipping her tongue inside of my mouth. I loved her taste, but there was something just a little different tonight.
"So, before I came down here, I made a quick stop in Isa's room. You'll never guess where my tongue was just a few minutes ago..."
Holy shit. I was already hard, but this...this was almost too much. I felt my control slipping as I gripped her hair at the base of her neck and pulled back hard. She gasped, but her lips were parted, and she was breathing very hard. Her eyes showed nothing but trust and invitation. God, she was amazing.
I pulled her in and kissed her again, fiercely. I released her from my grip, sensing that she wanted to take charge to some degree tonight. She broke free and then gently pushed me away, but only to guide me with light touches onto my back. She turned the bedside lamp on, dispelling the darkness of the room and showing herself off in the soft light and shadow. I didn't mind at all, but she usually preferred the lights to be off, retaining a bit of shyness. She smiled down at me then pulled the loose pants off. I lifted my hips to help her. They were the only clothes that I had been wearing.
Sarah casually stroked my cock and looked down at me.
"Can I take care of you tonight, Reuben? Will you let me do that?"
I nodded, and Sarah positioned herself so that she was at my side and took my cock in her mouth down to the root. I groaned and rubbed her back. She moved her head up and down, gagging but not stopping. She moved with a strange intensity, and I will admit that the feel of her little tongue and tight mouth nearly made me cum right there. She released my cock with a little pop and smiled at me.
"Do you want to cum inside me tonight, Reuben? I'd like that quite a bit..."
Sarah's eyes showed intense arousal, but something bothered me, just a little. My train of thought was broken by her straddling me, facing away, in reverse cowgirl. She bent way over to do so, more than she had too, and I could see that her panties were, in fact, crotchless. Her wetness gleamed in the soft lighting, and her pose enflamed my desire. She arched her back and held that position for longer than was necessary, rose up, and started to guide my cock inside of her. She looked over her shoulder as she slowly rode down its length, moaning loudly.
"Fuck," I said eloquently. She squeezed my cock as she finished. Then gave me a lovely little smile and started riding me.
It was different than ever before, and not just because she was in charge. In a way, she wasn't. She was on top and in control, but I could tell that she wanted to please me, and she was. She moved up and down, and I put my hands on her svelte hips. She moved even more intensely, arching her back and crying out. She came, and it was real, and it almost pushed me over.
"Please, Reuben...say it," Sarah gasped without looking over her shoulder.
"Say what?"
"Say that you love me. Please!"
I wasn't expecting that at all. I did love her, at least a little bit, but I'd never expected her to demand to be told. That didn't feel like her at all. Of course, I thought of that in the afterglow. Not at the moment. At the moment, I just needed to cum, and I wanted to make her happy.
"I love you, Sarah," I gasped.
"No, shit, I mean, fuck, I'm cumming!"
I groaned as well, emptying myself inside her, not thinking about her words or behavior or anything but filling her with my seed. When it was done, she smoothly rolled off of me and moved up and kissed me, long and slow. Then, without a word, she stood up, picked up her robe from the chair, put it on, and left, closing the door quietly.
I was left tired and only partly sated. More importantly, I was filled with a deep concern that I was too tired to cope with at the moment. She typically stayed after sex and always wanted to talk and cuddle. Everything about this encounter was a bit odd. I passed into a fitful sleep of dreams that I was happy not to remember.
* * *
I woke in the morning feeling somewhat rested but not relieved. The way Sarah had acted the previous night had been strange, even for our situation. She had been...performative. It made me worry that I'd never truly understood her.
No. Last night had been an exception, not the rule. I wondered if it had even been her idea. I hadn't asked her, but she'd showed up at ten pm on the dot, as if on a schedule.
The question was if she was performing on a schedule, who was it for?
Fortunately, I had some secret skills. By which I mean, I had google on my phone. I took the chance that I wasn't that closely monitored, which was a risk. If we were being recorded, then a night-vision camera would be required. That would need infrared light, and apparently, most phones had a camera that could detect infrared. A few minutes later, I'd downloaded an inexpensive app.
I got up and closed the shades, and turned off the lights. The room plunged into darkness with just a hint of light escaping from the bottom of the windows. I fired up the app and moved it around the room. I didn't even need it, as it turned out.
The app handily put a little red box around every IR light it found, but the lights were plainly visible on my phone's screen. Five. I counted five separate sources of infrared light. Two were in upper corners, one was in the wall at the foot of the bed, one was in the headboard itself, and one was embedded in the ceiling, directly above where I would sleep. Or where I'd fucked Sarah.
They were, to my mind, precisely the kinds of viewpoints that someone would want if they were interested in some involuntary amateur pornographic entertainment. For just a moment, I was enraged.
I didn't fight it. That didn't work. I shared my father's anger issues, to be sure, but I also shared his iron will. I let the anger pass through me, allowed the unwanted images of violence to run through my mind, but I didn't focus on it. I stood and breathed. Whatever action I took would have to be careful. This could be anything from someone blackmailing me to Sarah having some private agenda to a security guard getting their rocks off on being a voyeur. The less I appeared to be aware of the problem, the less likely anyone would be able to cover up the issue or get away before I could confront them. And I wanted to confront them.
I got dressed, much like any other day. I took my time. When I left my room, I turned left instead of right towards the small dining area where Isa, Sarah, and I typically had breakfast. I was hoping that, like most mornings, Sarah would be compiling some last-minute reports for my sister to read. I was right.
Sarah's office was small, really not much bigger than a cubicle, but it was cozy, too. There was inlaid dark wood on the walls with images of figures in worship, as the room had been a small family chapel at one point. She was typing with one hand, mousing with the other, and had a pen in her mouth. Her messy hair and untucked shirt told me that she'd probably gotten up late after our activities. In other words, she looked rather adorable. It almost blunted the tip of my anger.
Almost.
Sarah looked up at me and smiled. Before, I would have called her smile eager, perhaps even loving. Now? I didn't know. How good of an actress was she? I gave her a thin smile in return and crooked my finger at her. She jumped up and followed me out into the hall.
"What's this..." she started, but I put my finger to my lips. I led her down a short corridor and then outside. The back of our house was partially landscaped, but groves of natural trees were everywhere, presenting a mix of natural and man-made scenery. I led Sarah into a small group of fruit trees about fifty yards away. Their leaves were mostly dead, but not all of them had fallen yet. They rustled ominously in the chill morning breeze.
Sarah stopped before I did. I turned around and looked at her, keeping my anger in check and my face neutral.
"Reuben," Sarah said as if noticing her surroundings for the first time, "why did you take me out here?" Her voice quavered just slightly with fear.
I ignored her question.
"Is there anything you want to tell me? Now is the time."
Sarah's mouth opened and closed once. She looked around, but there was no one. She ignored my question too.
"Are...are you going to hurt me? Is that why we're out here?"
There was no deception in her eyes. Her arms were crossed protectively over herself. Sarah knew what my father had been like, and that made her fear me. She was smart, though, and didn't try to run. There was no point running from a De Heer when you were on his property. You'd just make him angrier.
"No. I will not harm you. I wanted to have this conversation with you where there was a small chance that we weren't being recorded. I will confess that a certain part of me wanted to push you up against the wall of the corridor and simply demand the truth, but no, I care about you too much to ever truly hurt you. I want...well I wanted to make you happy. That doesn't really matter now. You knew about the cameras."
I didn't ask it as a question, and she didn't answer it like one. She simply nodded and looked down.
"Is it for blackmail? Does Isa want more control over me? Or is it some game you're playing on your own?"
"Reuben ...it's not like that..."
"Then what is it like? Do you and my sister sit in bed and laugh at my performance? Is it a joke?"
"No! I...we would never..."
"Then explain it to me."
Sarah froze, completely. She was, in the end, not a very good actress. Her heart was on her sleeve the majority of the time. In this case, it was evident that she was deeply conflicted.
"I...I can't."
"No," I said coldly, "you won't. There's a difference. Did we ever have sex without being recorded?"
Sarah shook her head.
I turned to walk away, then stopped and looked back at her. There were tears in her eyes.
"Don't come to my room again," I said, before stalking back to the house.
I thought about going to get my breakfast in the kitchen but decided that I'd rather not avoid confrontation. I went to eat with my sister.
When I arrived she was reading something on her phone, then her eyes darted up to meet mine, narrow and sharp as razors. She was wearing a roomy sweater over simple slacks. It hung off of one of her ivory shoulders and was quite fetching.
"I assume that was Sarah," I said as I filled my plate and poured myself a coffee.
"You shouldn't eat while you're angry," Isa said, sipping some of her own.
"Then I'd starve. Because I'm always finding new reasons to be angry. New provocations from my own family."
Isa sighed. I had expected a fight, but she looked too tired for one. I didn't care.
"Reuben, please understand..."
"Understand what? That you and Sarah have been filming me without my permission?"
"Yes."
"I can't understand it. Because Sarah wouldn't explain it to me."
"She's bad at lying but good at keeping secrets. She hated deceiving you, but she won't betray me. That's why she wouldn't tell you what the cameras were for."
Isa stopped talking and ate a small bite of fruit. Others might have thought that she was the same cold and controlled woman that they were used to, but not me. I saw the slight twitch of the eye and the tremor in her hand. She was worried. Afraid even.
"What are they for, Isa? It's not like you to be this...this underhanded. Or coy when you're caught."
"Things didn't go so well when you were gone, Reuben."
"And?"
"And... I'm not...I can't..."
Isa stopped and stared at her plate. For the first time since discovering the cameras, I wasn't full of self-righteous anger.
"You can't what?"
"I can't be with men. Not like I want to be. So...sometimes...I film Sarah with men, and watch her. Then...I can be with them, by proxy."
"So you share Sarah with any man who drops by, is that it? So you can get off?"
"No! I love her!"
"Is this why you pushed her on me? So I could be your entertainment? So I could get you off like the old days but without any of that oh-so-inconvenient emotion and affection?"
Isa was crying now. I heard the door close behind us. Sarah walked by me without looking and then knelt next to Isa. I wondered how long she had been standing in the doorway. She whispered something, and Isa nodded. Then Sarah said something else, and Isa shook her head violently. Sarah sighed, rose, and sat at the table. I looked at both of them, confused.
"I expected a certain amount of intrusion into my privacy, Isa," I started, much calmer than I was before if not actually relaxed, "but this is too much. If I can't even have a room to myself...or a partner...I can't live here. You have to know that. I care about you. I care about Sarah, too. But I can't deal with this kind of betrayal anymore. Not from people who are close to me. I'm going to have to leave. You take whatever action that you feel is necessary."
Sarah looked at Isa, ignoring me. I waited. There was a tense feeling of expectation in the air. Something was on the cusp of happening.
"If you don't tell him," Sarah said, with more conviction than I had ever heard from her, "then I will. He's not just leaving you. He's going to leave us."
"Sarah," Isa said, suddenly quiet and vulnerable, "Don't. Please."
"Reuben," Sarah said softly, turning to face me, "Isa doesn't share me with just anyone. She's filming us because she wants to watch me...us having sex and being happy. Isa has to trust that whoever I sleep with will care for me and not do anything that I don't want. She trusts you, Reuben."
I blinked. I wasn't expecting that. All I had from Isa was coldness with moments of occasional warmth. There was no indication of the old flame that had been there, or the close affection or adoration.
Sarah reached out and took Isa's hand in hers. The two shared a small, sad smile, and looked at me.
"This is more complicated than it seems, Reuben," Sarah said, "and I can't just explain everything and make it all go away. Some of it isn't mine to tell. I don't really even know all of it, but I do know that Isa cares a great deal for you. I do as well. I want you to stay. I want...I want to be with you. I never lied about how I felt, or how good you made me feel, or anything else. Some of the things I did were for the camera, it was true, but I wanted to be there...and I do love you, Reuben. I won't deceive you again."
"I'm sorry," Isa said, finally, "I'm sorry that I'm like this. I just... I'll take the cameras down. No more monitoring. Just please don't leave again."
I looked at them, my face stony, but my heartbreaking. Sarah was telling the truth. I knew that. Isa was holding something back from me, but she wasn't lying about the essential facts. She still loved me, even if she didn't want to be with me like we were when we were young. Part of me wanted to revive our old forbidden romance, it was true. Even if that could never happen, it felt good to know that my sister still cared for me. I worried about her, too. I didn't hate either of them. I couldn't.
"I'll think about it," I said, standing and leaving the room. For the first day, since I'd been back, I canceled my meetings and simply spent the day in thought, wandering the grounds, reading in the library, calming my mind. How was I supposed to feel about all of this? How was I supposed to react?
I suppose that I do have at least two voices within me. One is reasonable and measured, maybe even cold, although caring. That one comes from my mother. The voice that comes from my father, on the other hand, told me to hurt Isa through Sarah. It told me to make the lesson slow and painful and memorable. I decided not to listen to it this time.
There wasn't exactly a self-help book on how to figure out why your sister secretly films you having sex with her lover. If there was, I would definitely have read it.
* * *
I stayed, of course, in the end. Part of me worried that this was some kind of manipulation, but that part was just my natural paranoia. I sent a rather formal email to Sarah and Isa, informing them of my intent to stay and "work through our disagreements." I sent a private note to the former that stated that for the time being I only wanted our meetings to be about business. I didn't trust myself with confronting them directly. I feared losing my temper and demanding the entire truth from Isa. I'd seen her vulnerable before, maybe more than any other person ever had. Certainly more than any other man had. But for the first time, I realized that she was genuinely fragile. Broken, even.
If she had asked to film me having sex with Sarah, for her own use, I would probably have agreed. It would have made the experience more arousing. I would have tried to seduce Isa through it. As perverted as it made me sound, I would have relished the opportunity. It was the deception that I despised. It was very similar to the way Father would keep us in the dark, and never entirely lie but withhold enough of the truth to make real understanding of a situation impossible. Knowledge was power, and he never wanted anyone to have more power than he did.
I decided that at some point soon, I would need to have a longer conversation with Isa. I believed that she was sorry, and I wanted to forgive her. I couldn't do it yet, though, not without a better understanding of what my sister was truly going through and what she was keeping from me.
That being said, more pressing matters soon took up most of our attention, and I set this drama aside. All of it would come to a head soon enough.
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The Brigantine, Revisited
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"You want me to go back? Have you lost your mind?"
Isa laughed at me.
"Aren't you being a bit dramatic?" She asked. She was leaning on the side of her desk while I looked out the window. It was already dark. I turned to look at her.
"Maybe. But I told you I didn't like what I had to do last time."
"Not even with Tonya?" The way my sister pronounced her name was odd, as if she was rolling a particularly tasty morsel around her mouth.
"It was the conflict in advance of Tonya that I have issues with. I have no complaints about the time I spent with her. I even felt...something like a connection. Not that it matters, I suppose."
"Well," Isa said, in a voice I could almost swear was teasing, "that's interesting. But yes. I need you to make another appearance. And maybe one more after that. You need to be seen, but this time you don't have to interact with others."
"So, I'm just going straight upstairs, spending time with Tonya, and leaving?"
"Exactly," Isa said.
I sighed. I knew that her logic was sound. It always was.
"Fine. I'll be ready. Tonight?"
"No. I have you booked for tomorrow night. Is that all right?"
"That would be fine."
It seemed so business-like and straightforward. I liked Tonya from the brief time we had spent together, and Isa seemed to approve of her too. It was a lot like sharing Sarah, except more straightforward and open. But things were about to get a great deal more complicated.
* * *
This time things started more smoothly. I got ready faster, Isa was waiting at the door with a new mask for me, this time something leonine in brass. Rachel held the SUV door open for me, passenger side front this time. It was black and looked vaguely sinister in the evening light.
"No limo tonight?" I asked as Rachel got in.
"Not unless you really want it. We can be a little more subtle tonight than last time. No need to be ostentatious."
"This is fine by me. We could take something even simpler if you wanted."
Rachel shook her head.
"It might be unlikely, but this beast is actually safer than the limo. She's armored up. Bullets up to fifty cal would have trouble getting through her. A grenade would cause some concern. An RPG would be bad, but still probably survivable."
I chuckled.
"We're going to the Brigantine, not Syria."
She smiled back at me.
"You pay me to be prepared, Reuben."
* * *
This trip passed much more amicably. We'd chatted quite a bit before, even flirted a little, like the old days. Still, for the first time, I felt like I was seeing the real her again, the woman who used to open up to me after an afternoon quickie in her rooms.
"I'm not going to lie," she said at one point, offhandedly, "I wasn't unhappy when your father died."
I wasn't sure how to take that.
"He must have been difficult to work for," I noted diplomatically. He was a beast to me, but I was never entirely sure how he treated others. I was reasonably confident that he'd bedded Rachel, and that wasn't something that I was eager to bring up.
Rachel laughed bitterly.
"That's one way to put it. He got worse after you left. Not right away, but the last year or so, he wasn't the same. He treated me...well, everyone really, like his property. Something to be used and disposed of."
"Isa has been dancing around the subject for some time, but I never want to press her for details. Or you, for that matter."
"It was probably worse for her than for me, but I won't put words in her mouth. I'll just say that he got more demanding. More graphic. More...ugh. You don't have to hear this if you don't want to."
"I don't want to hear it, but I want to listen to you. You were important to me. You still are. Leaving you with him is one of my few regrets."
Rachel turned slightly towards me and raised an eyebrow.
"I wouldn't have left. You know that. I was so fucking loyal and stupid to him. I thought that he saved me. You, Isa, and your mother did more than he ever did just by caring. I mean, you've all done more than that, but you get the idea."
"I do. I don't mean to pry, but a few times I've gotten the idea that there's something you've wanted to tell me. You know that I'm not going to think less of you for anything you need to say."
Rachel smiled, but her eyes were sad. The mask of the capable professional had slipped. Without thinking, I reached out and tucked some of her shortish auburn hair back behind her ear. I felt like I had crossed a boundary, but she just leaned into my hand briefly, then kissed it. I felt a flutter in my chest. It was such a small gesture on both of our parts, but I had to believe that she felt the same charge.
"I wish I could believe that. I do have things I want to tell you. I'm ashamed, Reuben, of what I was and what I became while you were away. To tell you the truth, I think I only really started to recover in the last few months of your mother's life. I hate to put it like that, but I was numb for a...a long time. Isa and I spent time together, and that helped."
"Have you become friends?"
"Something like that. We talk now, usually about once a week. It doesn't get too deep, and we don't talk about a lot of the bad stuff, but we both understand each other. We connect now, more than we did before. Even before you returned, I realized that Isa deserved my loyalty far more than your father ever did. When she started speaking about you returning I...I..."
Rachel's voice hitched unexpectedly. I looked over and saw tears rolling down her cheek. She wasn't afraid to show her emotions under the right circumstances, but she never did so while she was working, even if she was with someone that she could be informal around. She wiped the tears away offhandedly and continued.
"I felt something open up in me. Something raw."
"I...I'm sorry," I said, not really sure what else I could say. She shook her head.
"Don't be. It was that connection that we have. That we've always had. I tried to deny it, to justify it as you having some puppy love and me having a little illicit fun with the boss's son."
"I was very much in love with you," I said, quietly hurt at her probably accurate description of my maturity level.
"I know. And I would have done a lot for you. More than you know. Now, though, you're back. It's wonderful, but it's also kind of frightening. That's why I haven't been very forward with you. I've been hot and cold. I'm sorry for it. I shouldn't flirt with you and then pretend like it's nothing."
"It's been an odd homecoming for me, too."
Rachel laughed.
"Well, lord knows you've got enough on your hands with Sarah. And then there's this Tonya."
It was my turn to laugh.
"Does everyone know about her? I've only seen her once and..."
"Apparently, you each made quite an impression on each other. Isa talks about her pretty often. I think whoever she is, this Tonya is going to want to meet with you soon, outside of here. What do you think of that?"
She wasn't teasing but merely asking. What did I think of that?
"I think I'd do that. There's something about her. I don't know. It's deeper than just sex, but I can't place it. I feel the same for you, though. How would you feel about seeing me outside of being my bodyguard?"
Rachel didn't show surprise at my turnaround, but I could feel it from her. I knew that my words weren't unwelcome. Her jaw clenched slightly, and she gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
"I...fuck, that's not fair, you know? Ambushing me like this."
"You're right. You can tell me to fuck off. You have before."
"I don't want to. I want to say that yes, I'm very interested, but no, I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I ever will be. The truth is, I don't deserve you."
"What the hell does that mean? I'm not an innocent boy anymore. I'm flawed."
"Maybe, but not like me."
She said it with such finality, it stunned me for a moment. I didn't even notice that she'd turned onto the drive of the Brigantine. Soon she'd pulled into a spot and parked. Now wasn't the time, and I wouldn't push, but I made a promise to myself to be ready to listen to Rachel when and if she was prepared to tell me what was hurting her so much. I decided to listen and be forgiving, no matter what she said. She was, in essence, family. Even if nothing romantic ever rekindled between us, I wanted her in my life, and I wanted her to be happy. I wondered if that alone made me a better man than my father.
Rachel was quiet, and I didn't want to disturb her. I followed the procedure, got out a gun and a watch, checked both, and put them on. With a slight nod to her, I got out and approached the Brigantine.
I had no idea what I was in for.
* * *
I was aware of the milling crowd in the casino area, and the impromptu orgy that was happening in one of the rooms right off of the main hall, but my mind was on one person: Tonya.
I didn't understand how she could have such power over me after a single straightforward encounter. I didn't even know what her face looked like, or her voice sounded like. In my mind, I had built up an identity for her, where she was intelligent, funny, and creative. Maybe she'd grown up in a quiet suburb somewhere and needed an escape from a life too plain. I wanted to find out. I realized the dangers of such things, but something in me reacted instinctually to her, and I had learned that such attractions often overrode my common sense.
I took the stairs two at a time, as eager as a teenaged boy who thought he was going to feel a girl's body for the first time. I couldn't explain it, but there was a certain elation associated with it, so I just rode the wave.
The girl at the top of the stairs was silver today and had I not had an appointment, I would most certainly have been interested in getting to know her. She led me again to a room in the back, a different one this time. The layout of these rooms was probably intentionally strange, to ensure that most people would be confused if they tried to wander where they shouldn't. Wealthy people could feel that they were entitled to access that they didn't deserve.
There was another note on the door this time. It read:
Please.
Tonya
She fit a lot of intent in that one word. I understood exactly what she needed at that moment, just as I had before. I didn't question it. I just opened the door and stepped inside. The plush red carpet and rich, inlaid wood walls were familiar and expected now. The first thing that was different was the light.
On my last visit, it had been dim, that was true, but this time there was no electric light of any kind. Two candelabras, one on each of the small end tables on either side of the bed, provided the only light. What they revealed made me sigh.
Tonya was almost totally nude this time, her skin appearing honeyed in the flickering firelight. She lay supine, every curve was exposed to me, and all of it was enchanting. I loved the way her legs moved, and her thighs squeezed together when she saw me. Her breasts, heavy and natural, spread out on her chest, her nipples hard as pebbles. The only thing she wore was a porcelain demi-mask, painted like a doll. Her blonde hair cascaded across the pillow. Her lips were exposed, but I could tell that she had been heavily made up with dark lipstick and shadow around her eyes.
I desired her more than ever, and underneath the more substantial curves of Tonya, all my mind could do was superimpose the pale, soft, more lithe lines of Isa, from my memories of the last times we'd fucked. I knew then that was why I truly wanted her, more than any hints of personality. I might end up caring a great deal for this woman if we ever spoke, but for now, she would be nothing but a proxy for my sister.
As I undressed, she watched me hungrily. I thought about how harsh I had been with her the last time. I had taken out all of my frustrations out on her, punishing for all the sins of the other women in my life. I felt guilty about it, even if my partner at the time had enjoyed it. When I was naked, I stepped toward the bed, and Tonya sighed eagerly. I hesitated, and she made a cute noise of need.
"Tonya, last time was wonderful, and I'm going to fuck you hard tonight, but I don't want to hit you tonight, or choke you. Will that be all right?"
Her smile was wide and inviting, and I understood then that in some ways, at least, she was like me. She loved it rough, loved the darker passions of our natures, but also needed the other, kinder side from time to time.
"Good," I said calmly as I approached, "because I'm going to cum inside you tonight, and I want you to want it too. I never asked you last time, but honestly, I hope that you're not on the pill."
I suppose I must have had a hungry edge to my voice because I could see Tonya swallow nervously as I climbed on the bed and pushed her legs apart. Her slick wetness glinted in the firelight, and I smiled, inhaling her scent deeply. Then I dove in, tasting her gently at first, but soon lapping at her as though she were the most exquisite thing that I'd ever tasted. The familiar taste and scent overwhelmed me. I felt a gush of warm wetness as she quivered under my tongue. I felt her hands in my hair, pressing me down into her, her nails digging into my scalp.
The pain turned me on, but it also angered me a little, I turned away from her need and bit her once, hard, on the inner thigh. I tasted a little blood, and I worried that I had maybe gone too far, but she gasped and cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Her body went rigid, and her thighs clamped fast around my head as I returned to licking her swollen pussy, and I realized that she'd already cum.
I pulled her body back down to the sheets and pushed her legs open more harshly, although she didn't resist. I was in need now, and I wouldn't tolerate any more delays. I entered her brutally. She was so fucking tight, just like the last time, but she was also wet and ready for me, too. She moaned and immediately wrapped her legs around me, her arms clinging to my back for dear life. I kissed her then, and the character of the encounter changed.
It's hard to describe. It was still fierce. The sounds of our bodies impacting, my grunts and her exhalations and gasps were evidence enough of that. But there was something like tender feeling there.
Tonya kissed me then brought her head close to mine, and I instinctively cradled it, my hand in her hair, holding her gently. I kissed her neck as I got closer and tasted her. I felt so connected, so close to this anonymous woman. I loved her at that moment.
Tonya's back arched as if she'd been struck by lightning, and she cried out so loudly that her scream reverberated off of the walls. I let go, going deep inside of her, and as I did, I said one word, an exhalation more than coherent speech:
"Isa!"
I felt terrible about it, of course. In fact, I managed to focus on the guilt of calling a woman by another's name rather than the fact that I automatically associated my sister with loving sex. Tonya, however, either didn't notice or pretended not to. I held her through a powerful aftershock orgasm, and we kissed, passionately. There was truth spoken that night, in a way, on both of our parts.
This time, she left first, gathering a small robe from nearby and leaving out a back door, probably having another, more anonymous way out of the building. I was worried about the impact my little verbal slip had. She hadn't said anything, of course, but she had seemed to be holding back something like tears when she left. I wondered if there was any way that I could make it up to her.
Looking back, I was far more naive than I thought.
* * *
I left Tonya's room feeling pretty good, my verbal faux pas aside. Not only was the sex somehow even better than last time, I felt lighter, more relaxed. My problems seemed less important. I thought about my friends back at university. Maybe I could drop by and see them soon, or even invite some of them out to the house. Or better yet, the coast. Isa and Sarah could come too. They needed a vacation.
I was so distracted that I didn't notice the petite woman with long blonde hair until I walked right into her. She stumbled back, and I looked at her stupidly. She was dressed in black lingerie that covered everything but hid nothing, and fishnets. I sputtered apologies, but she just waved them off and moved smoothly up to me, close, with her hands on my chest. Every part of her was small, and despite obviously being of age, she had a vulnerability to her that made me wish I could just bundle her up and take her away from there. She had a smile on her face, but it didn't extend to her eyes.
"You're Marcus De Heer, aren't you?"
I nodded reflexively, then kicked myself internally. Rachel would probably have advised me not to reveal myself to random strangers, cute or not.
"They're going to kill you. You have to come with me."
"What? Who are you?"
She grabbed my crotch, and I grunted in surprise. Her other hand was still moving over my chest. Distressingly I noticed two security guards dressed in suits with the same kind of gaudy vests and domino masks as the others wore. They carried submachine guns, and they seemed to be checking every room.
"I'm Amy. We don't really have time for introductions. Act like you're into it. Duck into the room behind me and to your left. Do it quick."
Desperate times required bold action. I leaned in and kissed her and maneuvered her back through the door she had indicated. She giggled quite convincingly, but as soon as we both were in, she broke out of the embrace and slammed the door shut, locking it. For just a moment, I wondered if I had blundered into a trap. She may have been small, but she still could have killed me in any number of ways. That was when I heard someone on the other side of the door shouting.
"That was him! Get the fucking door open!"
So much for the vaunted incorruptible Brigantine security. A least I had enough common sense to stop standing directly in front of the door, and enough decency to pull Amy with me.
I don't know why people call the fucking things silencers. They weren't silent at all. Granted, to my semi-educated ears, they didn't sound exactly like gunshots, and maybe that was the point. There was the thump and cracking of the antique wooden door, as holes appeared and splinters flew. Amy grabbed my hand and pulled me into a large nearby armoire and shut the door. I thought it was a bad idea until we went through the much sturdier metal door at the back of it.
"We get training," she said, "and not just in how to please rich degenerate fucks. No offense."
"None taken," I said as I reviewed the room.
"They make us memorize special routes through the building. The halls are more complex than they appear to be. Those guys are security, but they're new. New guys don't get taught the layout. And they won't be able to get through that metal security door."
"How did you know? Why are you helping me?"
Amy looked back at me and smiled. It was real, and she seemed happy to be helping someone, even if they were a rich degenerate fuck, but her eyes were still haunted.
"I heard the idiots talking about 'taking care' of you, and it was obvious they didn't mean bringing you some fresh towels. I...I honestly don't know why I'm helping you. Maybe I just want to do one good thing before I die."
Even under those conditions, hearing her talk about dying was sobering to me. She was younger than Isa, probably a little older than Sarah. She should be looking forward to her future, not thinking of death in a place like this. I forced my mind back to the problems of the present.
"Can you get me out of here?"
She nodded.
"I can't take you all the way. Go out here, go through the door across the hall. In the back is an 'employees only' door. The code on the pad is 616. It won't slow them down for long but keep going straight, and you'll reach the main stairs again. I don't think they'll expect that. Maybe if you're lucky, the other security guards will be there to protect you."
"Unless they're in on it."
She laughed.
"You really are Marcus De Heer. I never thought I'd meet someone like you here."
I sighed.
"What's the point of these masks if everyone knows who you are?"
"We all were told you'd be coming. You had a special appointment. We all knew to stay clear of you. Which is to say to be friendly, helpful, even flirtatious, but to go no further."
"Really? Interesting."
"Yeah. That's what I mean, though. Some of the key members of security, the leads, know too. If they wanted to kill you, there would have been many better ways than this. It can't be more than a few people, and none of them have been here long."
I stopped and thought about what she said. It made sense. Then I cursed my forgetfulness. I had finally remembered the smartwatch and hit the panic button. I already felt better knowing that Rachel was coming. I hoped that she was, anyway. I realized that she was going to charge in after me, and I was suddenly more afraid for her safety than my own.
I started for the door to the hall, then I stopped and pulled out a small case of business cards. Mom had taught us never to leave without it, and I'd started carrying them again once I moved back home.
"Here," I said, handing her one, "you've helped me, and we always repay our debts."
Amy looked at the card and then me with an unusual amount of skepticism.
"And what does that mean?"
"It means that you call or text the number on the card. Do you have access to a phone, or are you kept here?"
"I'm...not allowed to leave, but I can get to a phone."
So she was one of the girls that arrived at the Brigantine through poor life choices or recruitment from prisons or asylums. I'd heard the rumors, but I still wanted to believe that everyone was there voluntarily. I didn't have time to help any more than I was.
"We can get you out. Get you set up somewhere else. Even if I die, my sister will take care of you if you explain what happened."
And then I took off. I ran through the door and crossed the hall. I heard an angry shout, but I ignored it, plowing through the next door. The room was small, and on a bed, an older man was engaged in some very complicated twister with two plump brunettes who might have been twins. I didn't really take a close look. I ignored their shocked squeaks and went to the service door. I hit the code on the pad and went through, slamming the door behind me. I charged down the hall, which was still lovely but not carpeted or adorned aside from dull white paint and several cameras. I hoped that the eyes that watched them were friendly, or at least not hostile.
I stopped at the last door. If Amy was right, I'd be by the main staircase. The small crowd of people might provide me with cover. Or the people following me might be stupid, desperate, or otherwise motivated enough to just start shooting. It was going to be a dash. I was confident that I'd run into Rachel in the main hall, assuming that nothing had happened to her. I ignored the dip in my chest as I thought of her.
I sighed and carefully took the Glock out of its holster. There wasn't a switch, just a grip safety, so I just had to remember how to aim and squeeze and not hit anyone but my targets. I pulled the door open a few inches and looked out. A security guard with an ugly white mask and a poorly fitting suit was arguing with the painted girl at the top of the stairs. She was demanding to know what he was doing. He looked away for a moment and then backhanded her. I decided that made him one of the bad guys. I aimed and fired twice, then once more. I knew he might be wearing body armor, but I aimed for the center of mass. He was facing away from me and turned to the left slightly. The first one went under his armpit, the second hit him in the shoulder, and the third one went wide and hit the fancy molding about four feet above his head.
I never was that good of a shot. It didn't matter, though. I think the first one perforated his lungs. He fell, sputtering. The girl screamed from the floor. I saw two other security guards running up the stairs, charging past her prone form and that of the guard, hopefully dying on the floor. I took my chance and charged out. I could see the door as I started down the stairs. Rachel was there, thank god. She had what looked to be a matte-black AK-47, and she was yelling at the security at the front door, and all three of them turned to look at me. They didn't seem to be hostile, just confused.
I was halfway down the stairs. I figured I was home free. Maybe there had only been one of them. Rachel's shout saved me. I weaved hard to the right and half-ran, half-fell down the rest of the stairs. I heard some sharp snaps over and to the left of my head. I learned later that was what bullets passing by you sounded like.
Rachel returned fire. She had no suppressor on her weapon, and it was loud. Louder than my Glock. She fired two sharp bursts, maybe three bullets in each. I ran straight past her, almost in a panic. I didn't think to stop and wait for her until I was ten steps out the door. She was running after me and waved at me to keep going. I heard more gunshots as I opened the door at the back of the SUV. She was exchanging gunfire with two men on the grounds. Three more were there, but they weren't shooting. Yet.
Rachel dropped one of the men and turned, making a break for the limo. I fired a few rounds in the direction of the other. He ducked.
"Get in, you fucking idiot," Rachel snarled at me as she threw the rifle in and got in. I did as I was told. I didn't need her to tell me to keep down. The glass was 'bullet-resistant,' but the armor on the doors was much better. As she tore down the driveway, I heard the thumps and pings of lead hitting the side of the vehicle. Oddly, I felt more exposed in the armored truck than I had out there, maybe because I couldn't move. I started feeling faint. Then Rachel turned hard, and I slammed into the door. It hurt my head, but it did have the effect of clearing the fog of panic.
"You can sit up. I've got you. I'm not going to let any of those fuckers hurt you, Reuben."
Rachel was confident, which I wasn't surprised by. She was a capable professional with years of training and experience. I knew that she had saved my father's life at least once. I was surprised by her vehemence and anger. She looked back at me briefly and smiled, then cursed and turned hard right.
"Did you get hit?" She asked.
"No. Did you?"
She ignored my question and turned hard left. I looked at her. She didn't look like she was in pain or pale. She wasn't bleeding from anywhere visible. I sighed in relief. Then I winced. I felt something wet running down my side.
"Shit," I said softly, "I think I spoke too soon. It doesn't seem serious, though."
"Fuck," Rachel said, "I can't stop yet but just hold on. I'll take a look at you as soon as I can. I can't take the standard way home. We have to assume that there are more of these fuckers out there, and they know the way. The panic button alerted our guys that you were in trouble. They'll be converging soon, hopefully with a helicopter. Until then, we need to make ourselves scarce."
"Where are we going?" I asked, pulling out my phone. I texted Isa, but the message immediately failed to send. No signal.
"Don't bother," Rachel said, "I turned on the cell jammer. I'd like to toss both of our phones, but this is an easier way. I've got to assume that they're on all of our electronics."
"How will our side find us?"
Rachel smiled.
"We don't rely on phones for everything. We have a few rally point locations. We don't store them digitally. Only me and a few security team leads know where they are. We just have to get to them and wait."
"What if the same people that turned the Brigantine's security turned some of ours?"
Rachel's expression didn't change, but I could see that her jaw clenched. She'd already been considering it.
"Reuben, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I...I love you."
I was too stunned by that sudden admission to answer. Besides, I did trust her intent, skill, and judgment of character. If she shared map information with someone, then I had to put my faith in them. I forced myself to relax. I kept my hand on my left side, but really, it was more of a stinging pain than anything else, and the blood wasn't flowing so much as seeping a little.
I set my head back and closed my eyes. I felt too tense to relax and certainly too scared to sleep. None the less I must have because my eyes fluttered open when I felt the car gently roll to a stop.
"We're here," she said, getting out without more preamble. She ran to the back, opened the rear door, got a small case, and then ran around to the door closest to me. She opened it and started removing my jacket immediately.
Rachel was frantic, almost panicked. She didn't ask, and I didn't try to stop her. I felt her hands exploring my legs, arms, and neck. It wasn't unpleasant.
"I told you its not serious," I said, but she shushed me. I grunted as she found the spot.
"Oh," she said. She had begun to unbutton my shirt, but there was less frenetic speed to her movements. She had a better view of the wound than I had, and obviously, she had seen that it wasn't that bad.
"Did I get winged?"
She chuckled.
"No, you got hit, but not by a bullet. It looks like a nasty splinter. About an inch and a half is sticking out of you, not sure how much is buried, but it's at an angle, so it should be relatively shallow."
I grunted again as she moved the shirt away. She didn't need to cut it, but I could tell now that something was embedded in my side.
"One of those fuckers opened fire on a door when I was on the other side. It probably got me then."
Rachel nodded and opened the case, taking out tweezers, bandages, and some wound cleaning solution.
"I've never been so happy to see you wounded. I thought you might have caught one. I think they hit at least one or two other guests."
Neither of us said that they were incidental. It was apparent from the outset that I had been the primary target.
Rachel took her time, removing the splinter carefully, checking to ensure that she got all of it, then cleaned and bandaged the wound. It barely hurt when she was done. Then our eyes met, and I was suddenly very hard again as if I hadn't had sex less than one hour earlier.
Rachel pulled my shirt out and ran her hands over my chest, scraping me with her nails. Her desire was shocking.
"It's been so long, Reuben. So fucking long."
"That's a shame. You should have been getting well-fucked."
I grabbed her ass in both hands and squeezed hard, she moaned and ground her crotch against me.
"I know, but you were gone, and...and there were others, but they were just lays, and I didn't give a fuck about then. There was nothing real between us. Not like you and I had."
I hadn't expected that kind of sentimentality from her. Still, she wasn't wrong. I had felt very strongly for her, as only a man barely eighteen could, and I knew that she cared about me as well.
"You should have found me, Rachel, you know that..."
"Stop!"
Rachel almost shouted in the small space in the back of the car. The volume was surprising but not as much as the emotion. For just a moment, I saw all manner of emotions manifest on her face: regret, guilt, and deep anguish over things that I indeed had no understanding of.
"All right," I said softly, stroking her face.
"I...I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about the past right now. I don't have any illusions that you're mine, Reuben, or ever entirely will be. But I can be yours if you want, when you want. You've always treated me well, and I'll be so loyal to you. I swear."
Her desperation to convince me of something that I already believed was strange, but I didn't want her to think that I felt anything but warmth for her. I kissed her then, softly, and to my surprise, she began fumbling with my belt, her eagerness that of an inexperienced girl. I helped her unbutton and slide out of her simple work pants and utilitarian underwear, revealing the dark auburn hair of her pussy, which was neatly trimmed. I started to unbutton her shirt, but she shook her head, panting audibly.
"Can't wait. Can't. Need...need you..."
Rachel unzipped my fly and pulled my cock out with her hand. It looked huge in her small hand, and she moaned for it. For me. That was when I realized just how much she had been in love with me. Her feelings hadn't abated during my absence. Before I could process this realization, she mounted my cock and let it impale her.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes. Please...oh please...please..."
There were tears on her cheeks now, and I kissed her and moaned into her mouth as she rode me. She wasn't rough, but she was fast and unskilled. Her need and love had taken her beyond any sort of thought. I said nothing, but I groaned and mauled her neck. She never stopped talking.
"Please, Reuben. Please, please, please. I'm sorry I'm so sorry I can't I can't I couldn't..."
Endless words of begging and apology, some I could understand in context but most making no sense at all to me. I didn't care though, she was close, and so was I.
"Please, please cum in me cum in me don't let me be his any more make me yours I want to be yours please please please please..."
I wanted Rachel to cum first, but it was too late for that. I felt myself swell and pulse. I groaned loudly, almost shouting as I filled her. I didn't want her to be on any kind of protection. I wanted her completely. I wanted her to belong to me and only me. I wanted to protect her and cherish her. I wanted a lot of things.
Rachel came too, as soon as the first of my seed entered her. It was like it had burned her, the reaction was so quick. She cried out and her back arched. She would have fallen back between the front seats had my hands not steadied the small of her back.
After what seemed forever, we stopped our exertions. Rachel collapsed forward, onto my chest, and sobbed. She was crying now, genuinely crying. I held her and soothed her. There were no words for a while.
"Your father used to fuck me," Rachel said simply. I was shocked by the admission, but not that it had been happening. I had always suspected that she had belonged to him, even if she had never explicitly said so before. She was a few years older than I, and I remembered her showing up when she was around eighteen, suddenly being my family's "driver." She was in good shape, well-trained in all manner of things, including self-defense, and incredibly loyal to him. It made sense.
"Ah," I said, feeling stupid, but not angry or upset at her to any degree. My father fucked a lot of people.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never told you. He was still fucking me at the same time we were together. He fucked me after you left, too. He was never kind, like you. He never cared if I came, although he could get me off so easily. I'd been his property my whole life. When I rebelled, I became a worse person. The only thing that made me feel better was you. You were...I don't know. You saved me. You loved me the same way I loved you, and I was never the same after that."
I had never heard such bitterness in Rachel's voice, followed by such kindness. She never looked up, and I knew that she was still crying by the wetness of my shirt. I caressed her hair with one hand while I still held her with my other arm. This was one more thing to hate my father for, but I couldn't fault him for taste. It was likely we were both attracted to the same things about her, after all.
Rachel wasn't done shocking me. Eventually, we settled down a bit. I zipped up, and I helped her dress. We laughed a little together in the afterglow. We kissed a few times. I don't know if it would have happened if we hadn't been in mortal danger together, but it made getting shot at worth it.
"He adopted me, you know? He adopted me and had me taught and trained to be his...well, to be his. In every way. To shoot and drive and fight and think. I even had someone to teach me how to properly suck dick and take cock. Can you imagine it? I've always been your family's property. I...I don't want to leave. I just want to be yours. Can I be yours? Please?"
"Yes, Rachel," I answered immediately, despite my shock, "You can. You can be mine, and you can be free. You can be both at once if you want."
Rachel nodded and kissed my cheek, chastely. Then we both got out, got dressed, and got back in the back seat to wait for rescue. It had been a hell of a night.
* * *
We were snuggled up close in the back seat when the helicopter arrived.
"Oh," I said, with a little regret, "I guess the cavalry has arrived."
"Good," she said with a smile, "I was getting tired of all this cuddling. You go with them. I'll drive the SUV home."
I shook my head.
"No. I want you with me. I'll feel safer, and I'll sleep better knowing that you made it home."
Rachel blushed, but she nodded. We dressed quickly, got out, and headed towards the chopper. It was civilian, large, but inside were armed men. They disembarked and watched all approaches to the helicopter until Rachel and I had boarded, then they filed back on themselves. Within a minute, we were back in the air. The cabin was quieter and more comfortable than I expected, more like a luxury car than what I'd seen on shows and movies. I'd only been on helicopters once or twice, and they'd been much more utilitarian.
Rachel clearly knew both the man leading the security team and the pilot of the aircraft. She spoke a few words to each of them, then handed me a sizeable wired headset.
"It's your sister," Rachel said.
I put on the headset, feeling glad to be alive but weirdly guilty about Tonya and not Rachel. One felt like cheating on Isa, but the other just felt natural. I couldn't have explained it if I tried.
"Reuben," Isa's voice was fragile, her tremor noticeable, "are you all right?"
"Yes, Isa, I'm fine. Just scared. Rachel got me out safe."
"Thank god," she said with palpable relief, "I'm so sorry. I...if anything had happened..."
"You don't need to apologize, Isa. You didn't do anything. Whoever did this might be after you as well. So stay safe."
"I'm not going anywhere until you get home. Then we can decide what to do."
"All right," I said, hesitating for a moment, "I love you, Isa."
"I love you too."
* * *
I was wide awake by the time the helicopter dropped us off at home. The increased and visible security told me that news of what happened had already arrived. Rachel stayed by my side all the way into the main building. Then we turned and looked at each other. What happened next was a bit strange, and I didn't fully understand it then.
Rachel embraced me. Others were milling about, and Isa was coming down the main stairs. She stopped and observed us, although she seemed neither shocked nor upset. She held me for just long enough to whisper something to me in a shuddering breath that barely held back tears.
"I'm sorry...for everything. Thank you."
I watched her leave, heading back to the small house that she lived in at the edge of our property. For the first time, it truly bothered me that she didn't live here with us. She was family to me. But there were more urgent matters to deal with, or so I have been told.
Isa was standing behind me, waiting patiently, when I turned back around. She was dressed in comfortable loose black pants and a white tank top, the sort of thing she frequently wore around her own rooms. She had tear streaks running through her thick eye shadow, so she must have gone out at some point that night. At least some of those tears had been on my behalf, which made me feel good, and then a little guilty about causing her to worry. She put her hand on my shoulder and then looked at my side. I'd left my shirt open, and she could see both the blood and the bandage.
"I thought you said that you hadn't been hurt?"
I smiled. Her tone was sharp, but I understood that it genuinely was concern and love she was expressing.
"I got hit with a splinter. It's difficult to think of that as serious harm after the other events," I said, then looked around, "Where's Sarah?"
Isa's lips compressed, and I could tell that she was full of worry.
"We don't know yet. I've got half of our goddamned security looking for her. She went to New York on my...our behalf. If anything's happened to her, it's my fault. I'm responsible for putting both of you in danger."
I shook my head, trying not to show the concern I had for the woman that we shared a great deal of affection for.
"I went of my own free will. I could have refused. Besides, I made it out. What can I do?"
It was Isa's turn to smile, and I could see how exhausted she was. It looked as though she hadn't had any sleep at all tonight, which was odd. Usually, she would have turned in before the time I was even scheduled to be at the Brigantine.
"Well, right now, you can let me look at your side and then get some rest," and then she turned and went back upstairs. I followed.
We went to the large bathroom that used to be our mother's. Although we did have some on-site medical staff, we kept plenty of first aid supplies here, a tradition my mother started after the first beating I received. I took off my shirt and sat on the closed toilet obediently as Isa got out wound cleanser, fresh bandages, and other items that might be of use.
As Isa knelt before me and looked at my side, she hesitated for a moment. I knew why.
"It's all right, Isa," I said, "it brings up memories for me, too. I'm not going to assume that this means anything more than what it is. I know that the past is the past."
She met my eyes with a sad grin.
"I don't think anything ever ends," she said as she started her work, "not really. I swear that whoever is behind this whole thing is probably trying to get revenge on Father somehow, even though he's been dead for years. And sometimes I wish that..."
She didn't finish her sentence. I wanted her to, desperately, but I didn't push. Not out of respect, but fear. I realized with absolute clarity that my burgeoning attraction to Tonya was misplaced desire for Isa. I knew nothing about the former, but she had taken the form of a proxy for my sister, maybe as was intended. So, at that moment, I wanted Isa to express regret that we had ever broken apart. I was terrified that she would reveal the opposite: a wish that we had never crossed the line that we had and become lovers. That we were just normal brother and sister and nothing more. So I stayed silent, in my cowardice.
That being said, it was not unpleasant. The pain was minor, and the woman I loved doted on me carefully and applied treatment, as well as any trained medic, would have. She stitched the wounds with expertise that a nurse would have found admirable. We sat in amiable silence. By the time she was done, I wanted to kiss her more than ever, but I knew that wouldn't happen. Also, I was ready to pass out on my feet.
We met eyes, and for just a moment, I saw something of the old Isa as her cheeks flushed. She bit her lip, stood, and started packing away the supplies. I stood and approached her, with the intent of giving her what I hoped was a chaste hug from behind. I caught her natural scent, and I was briefly overwhelmed. When I was but inches away, she spoke.
"Good night, Reuben," she said. Her voice was cold again, the icy wall returning in full force. I knew then that any attempt to touch her would have been disastrous.
"Good night, Isa," I replied gently, "Please wake me if you hear anything about Sarah."
Then I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me and returning to my own room. I dreamed of fog that never ended and a river where I could see those I cared about float past silently, face down. Thankfully, I don't remember who I saw.
* * *
I woke to the late morning light. Isa was gently shaking my shoulder.
"Wake up, Reuben. I...I need you."
I woke up and looked at my watch. It was nearly noon.
"What's going on?"
I didn't wait for the answer but got up and began changing clothes. Isa turned swiftly around, her cheeks obviously flushed. I didn't mean to scandalize her, but it wasn't anything that she hadn't seen before. I grimaced as I put a loose shirt on. My side ached, but it indeed wasn't anything terrible.
"Sarah's here. She's...she's hurt fairly badly."
"What? What happened?"
Isa was already heading out into the hall. I stepped into some shoes and almost ran after her.
"There was another attack at the same time. Her car was shot up. There was some kind of explosion."
"Oh. Oh god. Is...how is she?"
"She's not conscious, Reuben. The local ER deemed her stable and safe to travel, so I made the decision to airlift her here, where we could protect her better. I hope to god it was the right choice."
"Isa," I said as we entered a small elevator, "Sarah needs you to be there for you. If you want to blame yourself for her injuries, I can't stop you, but don't do it now."
Isa nodded and, to my surprise, wrapped both of her arms around my left arm, then leaned her forehead into my shoulder. I could barely hear her voice.
"You know me so well that it's almost unfair."
I didn't reply as the door opened to bustling medical staff and a sterile, if somewhat bland, hallway. Above, the manse was mostly in its original state save for electronic security additions, but below the surface was another matter entirely. We still had a cellar for wine and storage, but half of it had been walled off, reinforced, and modernized. Now there was a medical facility large enough to treat six comfortably and many times that in an emergency. There were emergency medical supplies, pharmaceuticals, and food that could last months. Typically, a single person was on the staff down here, passing the time by ensuring that all the supplies were fresh and everything was functional. This morning it looked like we'd called in all the shifts as well as every doctor on our payroll. It may have been overkill, but I didn't blame Isa for doing it. We both loved Sarah, after all.
We could see her, behind thick glass. She'd obviously arrived a short while ago. Nurses were just finishing hooking up machines, and she had an IV in her arm. She looked comfortable but had a puffy look familiar to people in ICUs. She had a nasty black eye that accompanied a bandage on her forehead that had bled through a bit already, and one of her legs was elevated. What I worried about were the injuries that we could not see.
"It must have taken her a while to get here," I noted, "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I came to your room to do just that, but you were sleeping so soundly, and you looked so tired. I decided to let you sleep until she arrived, or we knew more."
I nodded. I wasn't upset. I probably would have done the same. In less than a minute, a man in blue scrubs approached us. He was maybe sixty, and I recognized him. He was once a surgeon at our local hospital, and I knew that we had him on our payroll. He had a head of gray hair, a thick mustache, and bright eyes surrounded by lines of years of concern.
"Doctor Matthews," Isa said, all cold formality again, "what can you tell us?"
He smiled at us, and I felt a small weight lift.
"Largely, I'd say that she's in good shape. She's injured, yes, but basically sleeping right now. She's not comatose, and there's significant brain activity. The worst-case scenario is something in her skull that we haven't seen, but for now, all the scans have come up clean."
"What do you recommend?" I asked.
"We monitor her," he said, "and let her rest. She has a few broken ribs, a hairline fracture in one leg, and some nasty cuts. On the other hand, she's also dealing with some emotional trauma from the attack itself. I've got a colleague who does crisis counseling on the way. He'll be here in about forty-five minutes. In the meantime, we'll watch her vitals. I'd like to call one or both of you down here when she wakes up. If she sees familiar faces, it should make her feel more at ease."
Isa sighed with relief.
"I'll wait here if you don't mind," Isa said, and I knew that if the doctor told her to leave that she would. Sarah's health was too important to her to do otherwise.
"That would be fine," Doctor Matthews said. "Feel free to observe, just be ready to get out of the way in case we need to react quickly. We'll update you as soon as anything changes."
And so we waited. I went and got Isa, and I breakfast and brought it down. Someone would have done it for us, but it felt good to be doing something useful. I ran into Senga in the kitchen, and she assured me that all of the increased security and medical staff were being fed and housed as needed. I texted Rachel and got a brief response saying that she was in the barracks helping with the security response. I trusted both of their judgments in their respective areas, so I returned downstairs and made Isa eat. Someone had brought us chairs, and we were allowed to sit in the room with Sarah, out of the way. We owned the property, but even we had to obey the doctors. We primarily stayed silent, and eventually, Isa gave in to fatigue and fell asleep slumped on my shoulder. I was glad for it.
In the end, we only had to wait for about two hours. I was the first to notice Sarah's eye's fluttering open. I gently nudged Isa awake, and we approached the bed, instinctively wanting to be the first thing that she saw. When she smiled in recognition at us, it was as if every emotional dam inside of Isa broke at once. She sobbed in relief. The people who knew her continued to work, but they were all doing their very best not to look directly at the woman that they only knew as coldly resolute. I cried too, but I'm sure it was less of a surprise.
"I don't remember much," Sarah said at last. We hadn't pushed her for details, but she knew that we wanted to know.
"Just tell us what you want to," I replied. "Or you can wait and speak to Rachel whenever you're ready."
"No," Sarah said, "I want to tell you both while it's fresh. We were leaving the main building and headed to the hotel. It's only a few blocks, but I was tired, so I didn't mind getting in the car. At about the halfway point, security was suddenly much more alert. I could see them checking their phones and speaking in hushed tones. Then there it was like there was hail hitting the car from all directions. One of the security staff pushed my head down. Then there was the explosion. All I remember after that was waking up in the ambulance, passing out again, and waking in the hospital."
"That ambush was set very well," I noted. It became clear then why Isa felt so guilty. "Were you supposed to be on this trip, Isa?"
My sister nodded, never taking her eyes off of Sarah.
"I was supposed to be there alongside Sarah," Isa said, "and the security staff was instructed to act as if I was. They used the same callsigns for me and extended the same protection to Sarah that they would have for me. I thought I was perhaps overly cautious, but it's likely that the attack never would have happened had they known that I wasn't there."
"You couldn't have known," Sarah said immediately, reaching out and squeezing Isa's hand, "and all of us know that you had the best of intentions in making sure I was well protected. Please don't blame yourself. It...it insults me. I love this job, and I love working for you. I knew the risks that come from being a part of this life, and I accepted them."
Isa blinked at the rebuke from Sarah, and the latter blushed at her own boldness. Maybe it was whatever was in the IV that gave her the confidence, but it was good to see either way.
After that, I explained all of the events that had happened a little before the attack on Sarah's car. I told them about my narrow escape, and the unlikely aid I had received. I stressed Rachel's extreme professionalism and courage.
"Sarah's security team learned about your attack right before their own," Isa said, filling in the blanks. "I wonder if that helped them with their response. Our men drove off the attackers. We have two men seriously injured, but none killed. I think a few of the assailants died."
After we'd shared the essential news, we all spoke very quietly about what might have seemed silly things. We planned a movie night together and talked about going on a vacation. All of us were overjoyed by the relative safety of each other. I could see that Isa was still being wrestling with guilt, but Sarah's smiling face reassured her more than any amount of words from me ever could have.
After a while, we could tell that Sarah was tired, so we told her to rest and that we would be back later. Isa and I shared a significant look as we watched Sarah drift back into sleep. We didn't need to say anything. Both of us knew that whatever we learned, we would have to be swift and merciless in our response, and Father had prepared us well in that regard.
* * *
After that, I visited Senga in the kitchen. I had a debt to pay, and I needed to make sure that someone 'in the know' was expecting her call.
"A girl helped me. She works at the Brigantine, said her name was Amy. She's not there voluntarily. I gave her one of our cards, but we need to get her out even if she doesn't reach out. She risked a lot helping me."
Senga wrote the name down, and I described Amy a little better. I trusted Senga to see that it would be done safely, even if we had to buy her like a piece of meat.
Then I finally allowed myself to ask the question that had been bothering me: How did our attackers know where we both would be at that exact time?
I was left with only one conclusion: there was a traitor in our house.
----------------------------------------------
Traitor
----------------------------------------------
It all started to come together during a quick meeting I had with Ted, the head of our InfoSec department. He found it necessary to travel to me personally and keep nothing digital on what he was going to discuss with us. He was nervous, a bit nerdy, and clearly worried that he was going to be taken out back and shot if I didn't like his answers. He was younger than I, but he knew enough about our family to be concerned.
Isa had wanted to be there, but Sarah needed her more. I understood entirely.
"Well, this was a very sophisticated attack, and it was coordinated with a local infiltration that, frankly, I don't think anyone could have predicted. You see..."
"Get to the point," I said, ice in my voice. It was covering fear and guilt, but Ted flinched. I felt for him.
"Someone broke our security and had complete access to all almost all of our critical information."
"When?" I asked, feeling a chill run up my arms.
"Well, that's the thing. It was a while ago. I checked, and there are a few servers here that could have been accessed, and our logs are incomplete. They could have been altered."
"What's your best guess."
"Four years ago. Probably late December. I'm sorry, but I can't get more certain than that."
"Why didn't you notice?" I said.
"Well, my theory is that it wasn't initially meant to attack you, per se. What we found was more of a net. It 'caught' specific terms, mostly financial ones, then forwarded the information out. It waited and hung onto emails, little bits of meaningless text. Except to whoever had the cipher."
"So," I said slowly, "this could have been meant for corporate espionage?"
"Yes, I believe so. But the software was configurable from the outside. It was risky, but at some point in the last few months, someone changed the programing to be about where both of you were going, and where you were staying. This is the part I don't understand. We should have caught it here. It was overly invasive. It was a big risk to take."
"It almost paid off," I said, looking out the window.
"Yes, sir, and I'm sorry. I'm prepared to offer my letter of resignation."
"Never mind that. How did they do it?"
"I'm not sure. The easiest way would have been to trick you or your sister into clicking a link of some kind. That would have provided the necessary access..."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I want to say that's impossible, but...we all make mistakes."
"Honestly, sir, I don't think that's what happened. I think someone accessed one of the servers here in your home. The malware primarily resided here. It wasn't really made to replicate too much, so it didn't get too far."
"So it was very subtle, stole information that was perhaps harmful financially, but then changed to looking for us, right around the time I returned to the house," I said. It wasn't a question, just a way of forming my thoughts.
We were both silent for a moment.
"How would they have done it?" I asked.
"Well, it wasn't something that anyone just made up on the spot. More than likely, it was made just for this purpose. Maybe not for your servers, specifically, but similar situations. My team believes that it didn't physically reside there, or not entirely. It might have been something that ran from an external drive, deleting itself periodically and rewriting when it went fishing for new data. We should have disabled the USB ports on your servers, but your mother was quite specific about leaving them functional as useable workstations, just in case."
"Yes. She was quite cautious."
"So, uh, sir...with your permission, I'd like to inspect the server closet in the house. No one should have been in there in at least three months, based on the uptime."
We walked out of the office and down the hall together, and I scanned us in. It was indeed a closet, located centrally in the house, but where cleaning supplies and maid uniforms once sat, several racks of hardware now hummed. There were good AC and ventilation, and a mouse, keyboard, and monitor, as my mother had apparently insisted. We looked in the front but didn't see anything. After a bit of searching, we found a USB drive, ugly, black, plastic. Like any number of cheap sticks available anywhere.
Tim reached for it, but I held out my hand.
"Tim," I said, quietly, "It would be best if no information about this drive ever came out."
"Sir...I think there's value in doing a forensic evaluation of the device. Just in case."
"Fine, but keep the results to yourself. I want no attempt to identify the person who installed it made."
"Uh, I...yes, sir."
"Tell your team that you firmly believe that Isa clicked a fishing link and infected the network. She has access, and people like it when the rich and powerful do stupid shit."
I didn't blame them, but I did feel bad about allowing Isa to look a bit like a fool. She would understand, however. It couldn't have been me, as I wasn't here at the time.
"Yes...sir," Tim said as he efficiently removed and bagged the small drive. "Is there anything else."
"You and your team did good work on this. I don't want you to beat yourselves up too much about what you missed, just worry about catching the next threat. You're all getting 20% salary increases, effective as soon as I can get them loaded. Send me the names of your team."
Tim smiled, and I smiled back. We both understood that it was a bribe, but in a way, it was an honest one. He had done good work. He and his team almost certainly did deserve a raise. They were privy to the family's secrets. Father was ruthless, but he preferred suborning to killing. 'Make your employees complicit, and protect them," was what he always told me.
I suspected that asking Tim to trace the logs of whoever swiped their way in here back in December or January of four years ago would have been easy enough to do, but I wanted to do it myself. I could find out who the traitor was, and I could do it on my own terms, with no interference. I was primarily motivated by fear, however, and suspicion. What if it was someone I knew? Or loved?
If it came to it, I thought myself capable of killing the traitor if I had to. When I was the only one who I threatened, I was mostly simply afraid, but when they hurt Sarah by targeting Isa, all bets were off.
I could kill just about anyone for either of them.
Who was the traitor? Was there just one? The time frame that infosec gave us meant that Father was still alive, but I was gone when the malware was loaded. The person had to have access to the manse and the secure server closet. They had to be able to move freely, and they needed motivation. It could have been someone on our security staff who had been suborned, perhaps even before their employment with us.
It turned out that wasn't quite right. A simple review of some of the security standards and practices related that physical security did not have access to the closet. At the time, acmes required a passcode and a physical key. The logs for that particular door had been deleted. Still, there was a list of people with both a master key for the house and the door codes at that time: Father, Mother, Rachel, Isa, and our on-site IT person. Others who wanted to work in the room had to be escorted by one of them. Paranoid, maybe, but it made sense.
I discounted the on-site IT person pretty quickly after finding that he had passed in his sleep a year prior. He could have set up any number of back doors, and he didn't need to risk going into the main house to do it. Father was paranoid, but it served him well. There was no way he would have plugged a strange thumb drive into a server. Mother would never have done anything to threaten the family. I doubted that Isa would have done it. She was capable of doing such a thing, but she had access to everything the malware was using already.
The process of elimination had left me with a very unpalatable answer. It all fit. The gnawing guilt, the endless apologies, and being on the verge of some kind of confession all pointed at one person. Rachel.
* * *
To be sure of my answers, I reviewed Rachel's dossier and history. Most of it was digitally encrypted, but interestingly enough, I found that some information was in paper format only. From an opportunity standpoint, she was here at the required time window. I suspected that she had a real motive, but I'd let her explain herself. There was the possibility, no matter how remote, that she had been planted here somehow, and had always been a spy.
Still, I didn't want to believe that she had ever intended me any harm, or Isa for that matter. I would confront Rachel directly and alone. That was the only way to be sure. On a whim, I decided to review the paper-only part of her records, which I knew would be in a file safe that was built into the wall, behind a sliding panel. I told myself that it was just to be sure that I wasn't missing something. It turned out that I was, and it wasn't a small something either. I was glad that Isa wasn't there to see me poring over the files. She would have laughed at my comical expression of shock.
* * *
I took her folder with me as I walked out to her residence. I nodded and smiled calmly at the armed security that seemed to be everywhere. I was amazed at my ability to remain calm. I loved Rachel, and I was sure that she'd sold us out. For all I knew, she'd get violent when confronted. I was larger than her, sure, but she was trained and indoctrinated in violence. I had no illusions of my ability to overcome her in a fight.
I knocked on the door.
"It's open," I heard a familiar voice say. It was Rachel, sure, but she didn't sound healthy. Maybe someone else wouldn't have noticed, but the upbeat, eager tone in her voice was replaced with a dead note. She sounded like someone who was resigned to her fate.
I went inside and thought again about how I wasn't armed. I could see her from the back. She sat at her small kitchen table, and as I approached her, I could see that she must have been finishing cleaning her service weapon. With smooth effort born of many years of practice, she slid the parts together with a series of metallic clicks. After it was assembled, she loaded the magazine, and to my dismay, ensured that there was a bullet in the chamber. Then she set it in front of her and simply stared at it.
I walked around the table as casually as I could. I knew where she kept her glasses. I poured us both some water, added ice, and set one glass beside her and then sat across from her. I sipped mine, but she picked her's up and drained it almost in one pull.
"Thanks," she said, calmly, and then sighed and met my eyes.
"You know why I'm here," I said, my voice quivering just slightly.
She nodded.
"I'm assuming that security is outside?"
I shook my head.
"Your assumption would be wrong. Only I know so far."
"Jesus, Reuben," Rachel said with a strange sort of frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't do things like this. I...I could just kill you and leave. You can't entrust your life to...to..."
She let her sentence die off. I completed it.
"I can and do entrust my life to you. I love you, Rachel."
"Stop," she said. I didn't.
"I won't hurt you. I love you too much to..."
"Stop!"
Rachel slammed her hand down on the table hard enough to make the gun jump a little in the air. I knew that it wouldn't go off, but it still made me nervous. Tears were flowing down her face now. I could see it now, the guilt, the shame, the fear. All of it. There was no more deceit left in her.
"No. You have two choices here, in my opinion."
"Yeah? What are they?"
Her tone was challenging, almost daring me to forgive her.
"You can get up and leave. I won't stop you. You take whatever money you have, whatever you can carry, and you go. We won't pursue you. You'll be free."
She sobbed. It was disconcerting.
"I don't want to be free from you," she said in the smallest, weakest voice that I'd ever heard from her. "You're all I have."
"Well then, take the other choice. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Then we figure out what to do next."
Rachel met my eyes, and at once, they were young, afraid, and sad. I wanted to hold her. I knew that was the wrong thing to do. I had to let her do this her way, on her own. Then, maybe, she'd let me comfort her.
"I'll tell you, Reuben. You might hate me for doing it. If...if at the end you want me to, I'll take care of things so there won't be any mess for you to clean up..."
I sat there for a moment before I figured out what she was implying, then I almost threw up. She was like some kind of goddamned modern samurai, telling me that she'd kill herself at my word. I hated her a little bit for offering, although I knew that she did it because she thought it was the right thing to do. Instead of commenting on it, I sipped my water.
"Just...just start by talking. Tell me why, when, how. All of it."
Rachel sighed and nodded. Then she spoke.
* * *
I don't know when I realized that I wasn't normal. Or life wasn't normal. It was around the time I noticed you, I think. It was the first time I'd ever thought of a man as attractive. On my own, I mean.
My early childhood might have been better than yours, to be honest. Up until I was ten or so, it was just my mother and me. We were poor, but we lived all right. She worked hard, though. Sometimes she pulled eighty hours a week to make sure both of us made it. It was always just us. Then, your Father, Rudi, came into the picture. I don't know how things were arranged, but I think my mom loved me. It's hard to remember that sometimes. She sold me to your father. I hope that she at least made a lot of money for me.
I was taught to love your father. Trained. I know that now. Just like a dog with treats when I did well and pain when I didn't. And every weekend or two, he'd come and say hi to me and ask me how my studies were going, and he was just the sweetest person in the world. He'd take me places, you know. He liked to show me pictures of you and Isa and told me how I'd protect you both one day.
It sounds stupid now, but I took the whole thing very seriously. My teachers were serious in any case. I got a new one every few months. My tutors for usual stuff like Math and English stayed the same. I'd get up, work out with a physical trainer, learn regular-people stuff until lunch. Then afterward, there'd be some ex-military type to teach me how to fight and protect people.
I can see it in your eyes, Reuben. You want me to move it along. I have to start this far back, though, because this was when it started going wrong. Before I even met you. Let's see...I would have been about sixteen, so two years before we met. I was doing well, and I knew it. I was in great shape, could fight, spot threats, and was learning how to be a proper defensive sniper. Your father was clearly quite happy with my progress, so he did something that he'd never done before, he took me away for a whole weekend.
Sure, I left the little compound in the country fairly regularly. I got to see movies, I even went to events with other "homeschooled" kids. I was told that I was never to tell anyone what I was learning besides school stuff and that I was special.
That's what every kid wants to be, right? Special and loved.
Anyway, your father took me out. He bought me a dress, a real one. It had to cost a thousand dollars, easy. It was black and made me look...well, I thought I looked beautiful for the first time. He gave me a diamond necklace to go with it. I can't fit in the dress anymore, but I kept the jewelry.
That was the first time he took me to bed.
I'm sorry, Reuben. I never really wanted you to know. I'm sure you suspected, but...that's different than hearing it from me. I'll spare you the details. He took me, and he had me, and I was his.
After that, I sometimes got extra lessons at night. How to make a man feel good. How to be submissive. How to be a proper little slut for...anyone, really. At least he never shared me, I guess.
I was his mistress up until he died. It was pretty typical for the most part, I guess, beyond some basic kink and rough stuff.
He got worse after you left. Cruel. The dirty talk turned awful. He used to blame me for you leaving. He never said it, but he implied that you found out about him and me, and you were disgusted with me.
I believed him, too. If I hadn't, I would have just left and found you. I didn't care what your father would do to me anymore, not really. I just didn't think you'd want me.
So I stayed. And I got angry. I couldn't show it, of course. I realized for the first time how trapped I was. Everything was provided to me, but I had very little money of my own. I probably could have just asked your mother or Isa for help, but I wasn't sure. You were the only person I had been one-hundred percent sure of, and you were gone.
Not your fault. Anyway, I wanted to hurt your father. But...I still loved him. I still do. I know it's fucked up, Reuben. Please don't look at me like that. Please. I'm...I don't even...
Sorry. I don't typically lose control like that. But you know that. I was so torn up inside. I loved him and you and hated him for what he did to me and you for leaving. Mostly, though, I hated myself for driving you away. That's how I still saw it, then.
So when I was in New York running an errand for the family, I met a guy. I knew that he knew who I was. He wasn't that good at the whole spy thing. Maybe he didn't mind that I knew. After a few drinks at a bar, he leveled with me. We looked like we were flirting, but he was telling me about how powerful the De Heer family really was, and how rich. Didn't I want some of that money too? He told me that it wouldn't hurt anyone, not really and that I'd make a lot of money. Of course, he and those he represented would too.
He explained it as simple espionage. The malware didn't damage anything. If it had, then it would have been found right away. It was more of a drip-feed of information. It did some kind of filtering for financial details, big decisions. What was being bought and sold. Where investments were going, who was getting bonuses. Based on that information, stock trades were made. Profits were distributed twice a year, automatically. I have a numbered bank account offshore that's doing pretty well.
I was going to wait a while and then disappear. I'd had enough of your father. He was getting worse and worse. Not just to me, the other staff, even your sister. The men got it bad, but the women worst of all. I didn't understand what was going on, but it was like he had some kind of dementia that got rid of the right parts of his personality and left only the cruel shell.
Then he died. Just like that, it was over. I thought your mother would fire me. She had to know that he was sleeping with me, after all, but instead, she was so kind. She kept me on, gave me a raise, went on about opportunities outside of the country, and...well, it hurt. I couldn't get rid of the malware then without revealing what kind of person I was, could I? All I could do was keep your mother and sister safe. So I did that.
And I knew that you'd come back, sooner or later. I didn't understand why you hadn't yet, but I became friends with Isa, and I knew that she wanted you to come back home as much as I did. Then your mother passed, and you came back to us. To me.
It was going well, I mean, really well. I thought we were reconnecting. I was slow, but...I knew that you'd let me back in your bed if I proved myself to you. After all, you're a little like your father. The right parts anyway. And you share his preferences in women.
Then I was sitting in the damn car waiting for you to get done with Tonya Whatsherface, and the alarm goes off. I knew that it was my fault. My betrayal. I couldn't tell you how I just felt it, you know? It was like a bottomless pit opened in my stomach, swallowing everything but fear, guilt, and shame. I was positive that whatever was happening to you was planned using information gained from that fucking virus.
I had to get you out. I kind of wanted to die a little. Maybe I would have been killed, but your dumb ass stopped and waited for me to catch up with you, so I knew that I had to get you out of there myself. You'd never have left me behind. Then I guess I let my emotions get the better of me.
I'm sorry, Reuben. I'm sorry I let you down and endangered you, your mother, and Isa. I've never spent a dime of the money. I'll give it to you, and you can do whatever you want with it. Donate it or whatever.
You can do whatever you want with me, too, but I think you know that. I won't fight you. I won't complain. I know what I did, and I'm ready to pay for it.
* * *
When she finished, I got up and got her some Kleenex from the counter. She was crying continuously now. Her cool professional mask was gone, and all there was left was guilt, damage, and loss. I was angry at her for what she'd done, but I loved her more than I ever had. I had never thought that she'd meant to hurt Isa or me.
I could hear my father's voice in the back of my head, telling me exactly how to deal with her. How to break her again, to make her cry out in pain and pleasure and humiliation. She'd never love me again, but she'd never betray me again either.
I listened to the other voice.
I reached and took the gun from in front of her, then I took out the magazine and un-chambered the remaining bullet, very carefully.
"Apology accepted," I said.
Rachel looked at me, stunned.
"That's not...you can't just..."
"Yes, I can. I won't pretend that I'm not angry with you, and I'm sure Isa will be as well, but that's not the point right now. Do you want to make things up to us?"
"Y..yes. God yes. Just tell me. I'll do anything."
"Be here for me. Do your fucking job the way you have been. Protect us and be with us and stay alive. I want to do what I can for you to make up for what father did, and I want to make up for leaving when I did. To both you and Isa. We all have something to be ashamed of. We'll just have to work through it. That's what people who love each other do, isn't it?"
Rachel couldn't answer, her eyes were red with tears, and she looked down and hid her face by leaning on her arms. I got up and crouched beside her. For a long time, I just sat there next to her, holding her and stroking her hair gently. As I waited for her to calm down a bit, I made us both some coffee. I considered putting off the other part of the conversation, but then I decided that it needed to come out in the open now, or it never would. I poured us both a cup before I sat down next to her and pulled out the small file folder that I'd take from my father's office.
"There's something else we need to talk about, Rachel."
"God," she said, wiping the tears away, "what else? I...I can't think of anything else that I need to confess. I swear... "
I shook my head.
"It's all right, Rachel. I don't want to make things worse, but...I don't want to keep things from you."
"You? Keep things from me?"
I sighed.
"I just found out today, when I was making sure that you were the the...the person who planted the drive."
"You can call me a traitor."
I shook my head.
"You attacked someone else a long time ago, and it happened to hurt us now. You never betrayed us. If anything, you have more motive to do what you did than you know."
Rachel looked at me and sat back a bit in her chair. I could see something like fear in her eyes, and I wondered if she had ever suspected what I was going to tell her.
"What do you mean, Reuben? Just...just say it."
I pushed a small envelope across the table to her.
"Your mother was Father's mistress. He didn't buy you so much as take full custody. I'm sure he paid your mother money, but I'm guessing mostly he used intimidation. You're his daughter and my half-sister."
Rachel's hand covered her mouth as she opened the envelope and went through the papers. I stayed quiet, but put my hand on the table. Unconsciously, she reached out and held it with painful force. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, over the minutes, her grip loosened. She read everything: the love-letters from her mother to our father, the birth certificate listing him as her father, and the papers that certified that he had full and uncontested custody of her. I wondered what her mother had been promised.
I stayed there with her for a long time in silence. I made us some more coffee, and we sat together in silence until we were done.
"I've got to go now, Rachel. I'll be back to check on you later, and I expect you to have eaten something and rested. You're off duty until at least tomorrow when you will formally move into the main house, where you belong."
Rachel smiled at me with something like satisfaction at hearing the words. I wondered if it was because I was protective of her or because I was giving her orders. I didn't care much either way as long as she stayed with us. With me.
Now I just had to deal with Isa.
----------------------------------------------
9 Years Ago - Isa
----------------------------------------------
It happened when we least expected it. We were close, of course, but then we always had been. My father's brutality simply brought us closer together. I sometimes wonder if that was his intent. He was subtle in his cruelty.
No longer relying on private tutelage, for the last four years, we'd been separated and sent to premier private schools. I was sent to one on the west coast, and she to one in Switzerland. It always seemed like she got the better deal, but neither of us wanted it, not really. We hated to be separated for long periods. We were allowed to call and chat with each other, however. I was worried that distance would make us grow more distant, but instead, we both made an effort to stay in regular contact at least a few times a week. Far from the instinctive intimacy that twins share, we grew in different ways and shared more of ourselves. Consciously, we spoke of our dreams and fears, and it led to a much more mature and sophisticated understanding of one another. It also led to a deep and troubling sense of guilt over my relationship with Rachel as our senior year started.
That, quite naturally, led us in unexpected directions. Visits home for holidays and summer became something extraordinary because we'd get to spend time together. Our gifts for each other became much more personal and thoughtful, and often we made them by hand. Crude though my carving skills were, Isa loved chess, and she was stunned by the handmade set that I'd given her. I kept every single painting that she'd given me. They were hanging at my old apartment and were one of the few things I had taken with me when I'd left.
I don't know if that was what father had intended or not. He never seemed to dissuade us from being close, not really. I know that late in my teens, he had, at times, made ominous statements aimed at Isa when I wasn't quite up to his standards, in grades or behavior. He never outright threatened her, but he didn't need to. I would not have been able to cope with the guilt of having caused her that kind of harm, even indirectly. I didn't know if he had made the same sort of statements to Isa regarding me, but I suspected as much. Was that designed to make us more thoughtful of how our actions affect each other? Was his cruelty directed to the end of keeping us close? Or was it just to play our natural competitiveness off of each other? I didn't put either past him.
* * *
Senior year had ended. We had both graduated with honors from secondary school. The summer had barely started. We were both a little edgy, ready to go to college and start our lives, at least as we saw them. Almost tacitly, we had agreed to go to either the same college or at least colleges that were relatively close, no more than an hour or two apart. We never wanted to be separated as we had been before, and we knew it. We both had plans for the summer involving acquaintances that were scattered across the world. Some of her closest friends were going to visit her at our house in early June. For my part, I was going to go on something of a tour in July, visiting a few buddies and also seeing a lot of the country for the first time.
While Isa tolerated my requests for her to set me up with one of her friends as the jokes they were, she was much less impressed with the idea of me disappearing for a month. And she let me know it.
"Do you really have to go for a whole month? This could be our last time together before...well, before we have to start working."
"Are we going to have this conversation again?"
We were outside eating breakfast, it was the early morning, and for once, it wasn't hot or humid. I wore shorts and a tee-shirt and she a daringly short skirt and a tight tank top. She'd been showing a lot more skin and curves lately, and seemed to bend and stretch and turn so I could have the best view of her svelte form. She didn't have a lot of curves, but she was growing into them. I was frustrated by her little performances but also welcomed them. I tried not to think about why, even as her image came to me unasked for as I masturbated in the dark hours of the night. The sun was moving between clouds, and for my part, I could think of nothing better to do than walk and nap and read, hopefully with Isa near my side, but she just kept harping on me. I wasn't aware of how much we must have sounded like a bickering couple. Annoyed with each other but still very caring. I'm grateful that father and mother had other things on their mind then because some of the servants could most certainly tell that we were in love, even if we could not.
------
"Yes, we are! It's...it's ridiculous!" Isa stood up, surprising me by walking over and sitting next to me on my side of the table. She put her hand on my arm, genuinely entreating me. "Can't you postpone your trip until...until next summer? Or make it shorter?"
"I did have a thought about that," I said, cautiously, "something of a compromise." I hoped that she would go for it. Isa loved compromises and negotiations.
"Go on," she said, her face stony, but her eyebrow raised.
"What if you came with me?"
"Um," she said, clearly surprised, "but...I mean...I can't..."
"Why? Did Father forbid you? Mother? We're adults now. We both know that we're not truly free, but do you really think that they would stop you?"
"I guess...I assumed that it wouldn't work. They've always been overprotective of me, or so it seems. Father wants his daughter to be pure so she can be married off. Ugh." Isa sounded genuinely bitter. I'd heard that tone from her more than once recently, and it concerned me. I tried to ignore the wave of emotions I felt at the idea of her marrying someone. It wouldn't do to confront that now.
"Father might prevent you from going, but he might not. I think most likely he'll put some restrictions on our travel."
"I overheard him talking about having bodyguards shadow you anyway."
"See? I bet that he'll just hire some more. So come with me. You might have fun."
Isa finally smiled at me, her teeth as bright as the sun, her eyes lit with joy. We finished breakfast and went for a walk. We didn't speak for a long time, which wasn't that unusual. Without thinking, we'd started holding hands once we reached the forest path. That too wasn't that unusual anymore, although neither of us ever addressed it directly. Isa broke the silence first.
"I thought you wouldn't want me to come."
"What?"
"I mean on the trip. I thought about asking to come along, but it felt so...so needy. And I assumed that you wanted to be on your own."
"Why wouldn't I want you to come along?"
"Because I'm your sister, and maybe you'd want to hang out with your male friends. Or because you had women with you that you were planning on bedding."
I laughed, and Isa shot me a sharp glare.
"I was just laughing at your wording. I'm not sure I've heard 'bedding' being used outside of my English Lit classes."
"Whatever. You have to admit that boys are highly motivated by getting their dicks wet."
I did a double-take for a moment at Isa's sudden vulgarity, and she shot me a wicked grin. Obviously, she had intended to shock me. I smiled back.
When I could finally talk again, I responded. "I don't know, I've seen a lot of girls who want sex just as much or even more than boys. I think its a bunch of sexist bullshit that guys are the only ones who pursue it."
Isa sighed.
"You're probably right, Reuben," Isa said, "I know I get...um...you know what, I probably shouldn't talk about it."
"Oh, you can't say something like that and not finish," I protested.
"Fine. I get horny, and...god, please don't be angry, all right? I had some flings with a few girls at school. Nothing really major or intense, and not really romantic, but I needed what they could give me. I really wished that there were boys to date too."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, perhaps a little too harshly. We shared almost everything with each other. I expected a bit of a fight, but to my surprise, Isa looked down.
"I knew that you wouldn't think there was anything wrong with it, but...I felt guilty."
"Why?" I said, my throat getting dry, feeling the undercurrent of our many conversations suddenly rising out of the depths of our relationship.
"Because...because...you know why," Isa said, uncharacteristically coy. She stopped and let go of my hand, looking off the side of the path, arms crossed.
I stepped up behind her and put my arm around her shoulder. I intended it to be brotherly only, but I caught her scent. She wore the lightest of perfumes at that time, spring scents that reminded me of cherries, and underneath that, her natural fragrance, clean and pure and perfect.
"Maybe I need to hear you say it. I feel bad sometimes too about...the encounters I've had." Encounters was a very neutral term, but unlike Isa, most of my sexual experience had been romantic.
"You mean Rachel?" Isa said, a little bitterly.
"Yes. And...there were others, some not by choice."
Isa nodded, dismissing the recent experiences. She understood that Father expected me to attend the Brigantine with him, if for no other reason than to prove that I was a true De Heer.
"Rachel is special to you, isn't she?" Isa asked me, her voice wavering.
"Yes," I said, refusing to deny it.
"Is she enough for you?"
"We barely see each other, and when we do...well...we have fun. We care for each other, but both of us know that what we have isn't permanent or safe. I'm not sure she's really free to be with me. It could end at any time."
Isa turned and looked at me then, obviously surprised.
"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry...I guess I just mean..."
"I love you, Isa," I said, my heart pushing aside any thought of self-preservation, "and I think you know it. That's why you kept your experiences from me because you knew I'd be jealous, and you felt guilty about it. That's the only reason I never spoke to you about what I did with Rachel. I felt guilty because I felt like I was betraying you. I know it's wrong, and I know that nothing can ever come of it, but...I love you."
Isa turned, and I put my hands on her upper arms. Her eyes searched mine, desperately. Was she looking for deception? Truth? Desire? I didn't know. I was a storm of emotions, from fear to lust, and I honestly had no idea what to do next, despite or perhaps because of my limited romantic experience. I loved Isa, more than I should love my sister, I knew that. I also knew that if she rejected me that what we had would be irreparably broken. Instead, she leaned in and kissed me lightly, almost chastely, on the lips. Then she lowered her head, and I felt her kiss me delicately on the neck, then again, more firmly. It was, for so small a gesture, amazingly erotic.
"What are you doing?"
My voice was a little deeper and rough. I was having trouble thinking clearly. Isa's scent was all around me, her body pressed into mine. I felt her lips on my neck again, and I groaned.
"I'm doing what I've wanted to do for a long time. You want it too. I know it," Isa said, but there was none of her typical confidence, "Please. Please just...just give me a chance."
I took a deep breath and put my arms around my twin, letting my hands settle on her waist. Isa looked up at me, smiling. It wasn't a victory smile, just a hopeful one, thin and vulnerable. She loved me. She was mine, and I could have done what I liked with her.
I suppose it is a sign that I am not entirely like my father that I did not use her. I felt a massive weight of responsibility in my love. For Isa's feelings and her future. I wanted this, very much, but I knew the consequences as well as she did. We'd have to keep this quiet forever.
I kissed her, knowing this, feeling her melt into my arms. Her hands were tentative in their explorations, and her tongue inexperienced. When we broke away, I smiled at her, wryly.
"What it is it," Isa asked, "am I doing something wrong?"
"No. I just realized that I'm better than you at something."
Isa pulled away then, frowning. It was pretty stupid of me to say something like that, but in my defense, we were both nineteen.
"You don't have to remind me of your other conquests," Isa said, arms crossed.
I pulled her back into my embrace.
"I think I'm one of Rachel's conquests, to be honest," said, before kissing her softly on her hair, "and I'm not trying to taunt you. I would never do that to you, even if you like to tease and test me."
"I'm sorry," she said, nuzzling up against my chest, "I just didn't know any other way to get your attention. I should have just...I mean, I could have come to your room, but..."
I tilted Isa's chin up with my hand, gently, and then kissed her again. I let my hand run down her back and grabbed her ass firmly, and she moaned into my mouth. She had started to round out more, but she was firm everywhere.
"I want you, Isa. I have for a while. Will you let me make love to you?"
"Y-yes," she replied shakily, "God, yes. Here?"
"Yes," I said, knowing the risks but dismissing them. To be honest, there was nowhere on the grounds that was safe, but with mother and father gone, there were few who would even be looking for us. It didn't matter. The truth was that I was out of control. We both were. We had to have each other at that moment, and it didn't matter if we were alone or not.
I slid my hand down and pulled the hem of Isa's skirt up, over her panties, letting my hand explore the outside of her smooth thigh. She shuddered and leaned into my chest, breathing hard. I smiled as my hand glided in between her legs. She cried out as I gave her the merest touch of a single finger down the middle of her lips. I was still on the outside of her white cotton panties, but I could feel how wet she was, and it outlined her sex perfectly. She ground against my hand instinctively, and her legs gave out as she came, shocking both of us. I kept the pressure up with one hand while I supported her ass with the other.
"Reuben," she breathed, her small hands clinging to the front of my shirt. I gently lowered her to the soft grass, still slightly moist with morning dew. She lay back, utterly submissive to me, letting her legs part. I moved between them on my knees, but I held back, just a little. With fumbling hands, I unbuttoned her shirt. She giggled at my clumsiness, a gentle sound, and I smiled down at her.
I'm not sure that she was ever more beautiful than at that moment. Her hair spread across the grass in the dappled mix of shade and sun. Her eyes were huge and filled with adoration. Her pure white bra held back what I wanted, no, needed to see. As I moved my hands on her now bare belly, she shivered again. This felt incredibly intimate to me, much more so than merely sexual. I moved my hands under her bra, and her hands moved over mine, pushing them into her chest. I could feel her nipples tighten against my palms.
I was suddenly in dire need. Isa sat up briefly and removed her shirt and then her bra, far more swiftly than I could of. I took off my shirt as well, and before she lay back down, I placed my own under where she would lay. I wasn't a particularly chivalrous man, but I truly loved my sister, and I wanted her to be comfortable, warm, and safe. She lay back on it and let herself be exposed to me. I lifted her skirt once more and gently slid her panties off, watching her face while I did so.
For the first time, I caught her scent. I know that some women are nervous about such things, but I've never found it anything but alluring. And Isa's scent has always had a strong effect on me. I looked at her neat, trimmed pussy, and then leaned into it. I'd had some experience at this, after all.
I was earnest, and maybe a little bit wild, but I had some skill. I kissed her inner thigh, and then nipped it playfully. She groaned, and I felt her hands moving through my hair, nails gently scraping my scalp. I licked her for the first time, long and slow, between her inner lips and on her clitoris. Perhaps it was a bit too direct, but she was so sensitive. Her back arched and her hands tried to firmly push my face directly into her. I resisted, but only so I could kiss and lick her further. I felt a rush of warm liquid on my face, and she gasped, crying out far too loudly. I knew that she had cum, and I gripped her thighs from the outside, holding her down as I kept her orgasm going. I drew it out until I heard her sobbing. I made her tense and cry out again and again. I felt more wet warmth gush over my lips and tongue, several times over.
Isa never asked me to stop, but eventually, I had to. I needed to be inside her.
I lifted myself back to my knees, breathing hard. To my surprise, Isa followed. She kissed me, but as she did, she fumbled at my belt and fly, fishing my cock out. I was hard as a rock, of course. She held it in her hand and stroked it, perhaps too harshly. I inhaled sharply, and she instinctively loosened her grip. She was very excited but still was in sync with me, understanding what was taken had to be given. It felt like we were mingling together, our souls joining. Like water flowing from one container into another, mixing, dancing, separating and doing it again.
Isa leaned back, and our eyes met. She didn't speak, but I knew what she was saying. Her legs parted again for me as I mounted her. I tried to enter her slowly. It was difficult to hold back, but she was so tight. I wondered if she'd ever been penetrated by anything more substantial than her own fingers. I would have felt bad about not fingering her or preparing her better, but I was lost. My mind was as blank as hers.
We locked eyes as I slowly slipped inside of her. She was so amazingly wet. I groaned. I wanted to tell her that she felt amazing. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I was incapable of speech. I was inside my sister, and I had never felt more amazingly complete as I did at that moment. I would spend many years thinking of this moment as I was alone, pleasuring myself to the thought of this beautiful girl giving herself up utterly to me.
Finally, I bottomed out in her. She rolled her hips against me, grinding for more, begging me to fuck her. I did, thrusting hard and fast. This wasn't the way an experienced lover was supposed to take a virgin, but both of us were drowning in desire for one another, all of the things we'd been holding back from one another coming to the surface. She met me with each stroke, panting, as I kissed her neck and nipped her earlobes. She pulled my face to hers with both of her hands as we locked eyes again. I was treated to the sight of her eyes rolling back as she came yet again. How incredible was this girl who I loved? What could I do to keep her?
"Cum," she said, suddenly, her voice an exhalation of desire. "Cum for me, Reuben."
"But," I said, knowing what the risks were.
"Do it," she said, less order than a pleading desire. "Fuck me and fill me and make me yours."
That was the most erotic thing that anyone had ever said to me, and it was all it took to push me over the edge. I came, filling my sister's pussy and doubtless her womb as well. It was a miracle that she did not become pregnant. I'm sure that I wanted her to be, at that moment, regardless of the consequences to both of us. In the end, I lay upon her, spent, and she held on to me, sobbing softly into my chest. They were tears of joy. It was the most intense experience of my life.
We dressed each other before we returned to the house. This time we were relaxed and giggling and touching each other with the intimacy of practiced lovers. Thank god no one saw us returning that day. They would have known we were in love.
* * *
The trip went about as you would expect, except for one detail. It was Isa's idea, but I went along with it happily. She bleached her hair blonde and dressed a little more provocatively than usual. Then, when we met up with my friends, she introduced herself as my girlfriend. My friends knew that I had a sister, but they had never seen her. Isa could do a lot with makeup and contacts.
It was stupid. If the bodyguards had told anyone, we would have been in more trouble, than our hormone-addled minds could fathom. Instead, it worked out. Two other guys arrived with their girlfriends, as they had planned from the start, and the other two just kind of slept around as we traveled. We had a good trip, some drinking, less than you'd expect, and a lot of hiking and sightseeing.
Isa and I fucked like rabbits every night, naturally. The frequency and volume of her noises became something of a running joke, but we didn't stop. We were far too much in love for that.
It wasn't long after we got back that we started college. We ended up going to the same Ivy League school, and we were together as often as we safely could be. It went well until we came home for the summer after my Sophomore year.
That was when, in a fit of responsibility, I decided that I needed to learn more about the business if Father really expected me to have a hand in running it. I did my fumbling investigations, and soon, without much effort at all, I had found all manner of horrors.
Then came my the fallout from my confrontation with Father, and my bitter departure from the family home. The rest was history.
----------------------------------------------
Truth
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I didn't go to Isa right away. I held on to what I knew and what I suspected for a night. The next morning Sarah was well enough to join us for breakfast. She was walking around, and Isa was watching over her like a mother hen.
"Reuben," Isa said after making sure Sarah was comfortable and sitting down, "I want to do something, and you won't like it."
"But you're going to do it anyway, right?"
"Yes. I've put it off too long. The doctor says that Sarah is well enough to travel, so I'm going with her to meet her parents."
I looked at Isa and then Sarah, who was blushing furiously. How someone could be that good in bed and still be embarrassed was beyond me, but it was cute on her.
"Really," I said, "and...you guys aren't worried?"
"I am," Sarah said, squeezing Isa's hand and looking at her, "but they can either accept us together or lose me from their lives. I don't want to hide. You can come too if you want, Rueben."
I chuckled at the mental image of Sarah introducing her decadent, wealthy twin lovers to her conservative parents. That would be something to see.
"No," I said, "I think it's better if it's just you and Isa. It makes sense to me. How are you doing security?"
"Secrecy," Rachel said, sitting down at the table with us. Isa raised her eyebrow but said nothing. Rachel had always been 'allowed' to eat with us, but typically she would work out early and eat on her own. "Nothing communicated over electronics. The...the malware might be gone but no sense taking any chances. I've got people I trust going with them. You're still only going for two nights, right?"
"Right," Isa said.
"You can take Rachel with you," I noted, knowing that despite everything else that had happened, she could be trusted with all of our lives.
"No," Isa said, shaking her head, "I thought about it, but I'd rather she be close to you. I'll sleep better. I'm happy that she's moving into the house."
We shared a brief smile, and I felt closer to Isa than I had in a while. She knew how close I had once been with Rachel, and I believed that it made her happy to see that we were closer again. I decided to wait to explain the rest of what I had found until Isa came back.
I had other things to learn before then.
* * *
I waited until Sarah and Isa had left, then I went to see Senga. She was dubious about my request, but after I explained rather firmly to her that it was essential to the survival of the family, she handed over her master key to the house. I guess Isa had 'forgotten' to get me one. Well, that could be fixed later.
So, with that in hand, I broke into my sister's room. I went through it carefully and as respectfully as possible. Before too long, I found what I was looking for, and a few other things that I wish I hadn't.
After a few hours, I put things back as close as I could and then gave the key back to Senga. I reviewed some dates in my head, but everything added up. I needed to have a hard conversation with Isa.
* * *
I greeted Sarah and Isa when they got back. I was pleased to find that after some initial confrontations, Sarah's parents had welcomed their daughter's lover into their house. I'm sure it had been tense at times, but they were both so happy looking. I hated to ruin it.
I told Isa that I needed to speak to her in private once she settled in. When I asked her to meet me in my room, she assented readily enough, but I could see a tension in how she walked away.
Within an hour, I heard her softly rapping at my door. I was sitting at a desk on the other side of the room, perusing the notes that I'd made, making sure that I hadn't missed anything. I got up and let her in, then ushered her to a seat next to mine.
"When did you get a desk?" She asked as I closed the door and sat down. She was still wearing a sensible knee-length skirt and a loose white blouse, and I caught a brief whiff of understated perfume. It took an effort to refocus on the conversation, as being this close to her was taking my mind in inconvenient directions.
"I had some of the staff move it in when they were removing the cameras," I said, smiling wryly.
"Look," Isa said, "I've said I'm sorry, and I meant it...if there's any way I can make up for it, I will, but..."
"As a matter of fact, there is," I replied, setting my notebook on the table between us, "let's start by talking about Rachel."
I told her what I had learned about Rachel and the malware. Isa took it well, although she wasn't exactly pleased that I hadn't told her right away. Then again, Isa couldn't very well lecture me on withholding the truth. In any case, Isa wasn't that big on keeping Rachel around the house.
"I'm not advocating for revenge, Reuben. I like her. She's my friend. Hell, before this, I considered her family, but she's made an irreversible decision, and I don't think she's safe to have around."
I sighed.
"It isn't that simple."
"Isn't it? I know that you love her. I do, too, I think, but differently. It doesn't matter. We have to do the rational thing."
"Do you really love her?" I asked.
"Yes," Isa said without hesitation, "like a sister. I feel betrayed, but...I still care about her."
"I think we have to consider the context. She was hurt, badly, by our father. She was more or less purchased from her mother to be his servant, and he's been abusing her for a long time, well before she showed up here as his driver. He was never kind to her, ever. I can't share everything that she told me, but he was cruel in almost every way a person can be. She loved him, and she hated him, and when I was gone, the hate overwhelmed the love."
Isa's stern facade fragmented a little.
"I knew that he had been...intimate...with her, but I had no idea it went back that long, or that she had been adopted. She would have been so young..."
Isa's voice was stricken, and I couldn't help but worry how much of that was from a shared experience.
"There's one more mitigating factor," I added after a moment. "She's family."
"I know, Reuben, I think of her that way, too, but..."
"No, I'm speaking literally. She's our father's mistress' daughter. She's our half-sister."
Isa's mouth dropped open wide. I had been equally surprised to learn that from the documents that I'd found, but I'd had at least a little time to consider the news. I handed the file to Isa, although I knew that she'd only give it a cursory glance. After a bit, Isa stated the obvious implication.
"So she's his firstborn? And he...he just used her like that? Oh my god."
"Assuming there aren't any other mystery De Heer kids out there, yeah. She's his oldest, and despite what he had done, he still didn't think of her as his heir. He left everything to us."
"Rachel could make a good legal case for asking for part of the inheritance," Isa observed. I noted that she didn't do so in a defensive way.
"I mean, she could, but we both know that she won't. I think we need to find a way to share the family wealth with her in any case. If we offered her a share now, she'd probably break down if I'm honest. She's drowning in guilt. That's part of why I invited her into the house."
Isa turned a wry smile.
"For ease of access?"
I smiled back.
"At least you're not judging me for wanting to continue a sexual relationship with my own sister."
Isa looked away and actually blushed. I carried on unswervingly.
"So," I said, firmly, if still gently, "is there anything you want to tell me?"
"N..no. I mean...I don't have any information about the breach or whoever is attacking us. I would tell you if I did."
"I know that. I wasn't talking about the attack."
Isa's face blanched of color. Still, she shook her head in denial.
"Isa, I'd like to check something on your leg. Would you let me do that?"
As absurd as it might seem, I wouldn't touch her without her permission. I didn't understand everything about what was going on in Isa's mind. Still, I knew that her boundaries had been violated in the past, and I wouldn't add more trauma.
Isa nodded, curtly, and pushed her chair back from the desk, turning slightly towards me. I gently pushed her skirt up to her mid-thigh. She didn't resist, and I felt her legs quiver as I pushed them somewhat open. While her lacy black panties did attract my attention, most of my interest was on the nasty bruise on her inner thigh, in the shape of a bite mark. I recognized it, as I had done the damage myself.
"Tonya," I said, "It's hard to imagine that was you. You seemed so different."
Isa gave out a long, shuddering sigh before she replied. She couldn't meet my eyes.
"I can wear the wig for you if you want proof. It was expensive, made of real hair. It was worth every penny. I do calligraphy sometimes, for fun. The truth is that Tonya truly is different from me. She's someone who can enjoy being with the man she wants. She can be someone who makes you happy, Reuben. That's why I invented her."
"You don't have to...to dress up like someone else if you want me to make love to you. You must know that..."
Isa shook her head, and I saw the tears in her eyes.
"It isn't that simple. I want you, Reuben. I need you. I've never loved anyone like you, and my feelings just intensified when you came back home. But I' m... I'm different now. Things happened. I can't bear to be touched by most men, the ones I don't trust. And...and I do trust you. I trust you so much. But I feel scared and horrible and ashamed. When you look at me, like you are now, with so much love and desire in your eyes, you aren't seeing me as I am."
"I love you as you are, Isa. I do."
"Don't say that! I mean...I want you to, but...I...I'm not the same girl I was when you left."
"I'm not the same either."
"It's different! I'm different!"
Isa's voice was higher pitched and feverish with emotion. I could have stopped her but I had to know the truth, even though I suspected it already. I touched her face gently, and for once, she didn't flinch away.
"How?"
"I'm dirty! Can't you understand? Can't you see? Can't you feel it from being in a room with me? I've... I've been soiled."
"No, you haven't..."
Contradicting her was a bad idea. I didn't think of her as unclean, but I should have been listening., not speaking.
"I'M FILTHY!"
Her shout reverberated in the small room as she stood so suddenly that the wooden chair she had been sitting on toppled and fell to the floor. She looked down at it, and at the sight of it, she broke down into tears and slumped rather than sat on my bed. I stood as well and stepped over to her, but was unsure how to proceed. Only a moment of hesitation passed before I sat next to her and put my arm around her. She flinched, but only for a moment, then leaned into me a bit. I stayed silent this time. Eventually, her intense sobs slowed, and she regained control, although she was nowhere near her typical icy control. I always knew that was a mask, but the truth was that I had no real idea what it had been covering. When she spoke, it was just above a whisper.
"It wasn't bad after you left. Not for a while. I was sad, yes, but I was sure that you'd come back. Mother started working on Father almost immediately, and I could tell that his rage was only part of what he was feeling. He was proud of you, you know? For living on your own, supporting yourself, making your own way. He called it living uncompromisingly, which surprised me. To me, you had been living meekly, happy to learn and dwell at the edges of things. I pitied you. I didn't start to truly understand what had been lost until almost a year had passed."
"You'd transferred schools by then," she said, reciting my history matter of factly, "And were close to graduation. Mother was the one keeping tabs on you then, mostly. She told me that you'd gotten into a good graduate program. She knew about us, I think. She told me many details of your life. Nothing too private mind you, just the sort of things an observer might find. You were doing well. You had few friends, but they were close. Your grades were excellent. She always omitted the women that I knew you were seeing."
"There weren't that many," I noted, feeling bad at that moment for there having been even one. Isa looked at me then, her eyes red, but not accusatory, just sad.
"No, but there shouldn't have been any. At least in my mind, that was how it was. You were mine, back then at the mansion and forever. You needed to come home and apologize to me for your sins and then we could be together again. That was how naive and foolish I was. I don't know. Maybe it could have worked that way. That was before I betrayed you."
My eyebrows arched involuntarily, and I'm sure my eyes grew wide.
"Betrayed?"
"Yes. And no. This is hard, Reuben. Sarah says that I never did, but she's devoted to me. And you, by the way, if in a different fashion. It doesn't matter what either of us thinks, I suppose. I'll tell you what happened and you can decide for yourself."
I took her hand in both of mine then and kept my face serene. My mind was a storm of emotions, but no matter what she had said, I remained skeptical of her so-called betrayal. She sighed then, deep and tired, but carried on speaking.
"Almost a year to the day, Father came to see me. It was in my old room. The one I don't sleep in anymore. That was odd in and of itself. He was strange."
"How so?"
"He was angry, not at me, but at everything. He cursed Mother, which was unlike him, for pressuring him to bring you home. Then I made a mistake. I don't know why he was really there, but I asked, no, I demanded to know when you would come home."
"What did he do?" I almost held my breath. I had no idea what happened, but it was terrible.
"He struck me. Not overly hard, like he hit you, but with the back of his hand. I fell onto the bed. He didn't even seem angry, just cold. He told me to get dressed and come downstairs. No, that's not right. He told me to 'make myself appealing and be downstairs on the double.' His voice had a hard edge, and I could tell that he was enjoying himself. When I came downstairs, I wasn't particularly worried. That changed quickly."
"Why?"
"Mom was there. She looked...I don't know how to explain it. She looked so sad and knowing and she hugged me. Then she went upstairs. I swear that she was crying."
"That is odd."
"So by then, I was a little worried, but I had no idea. Reuben, you have to believe me. If I had known, I would have..."
Isa cut off again, her voice hitching up.
"What happened?"
"I lied to you," Isa said, then laughed bitterly, "What else is new, right? Well I was a good and obedient daughter and followed Father and Rachel out to the car. Father ignored me and Rachel was silent as a statue, which I understood. She spoke to me when we were alone, but never when Father was in our presence. I knew where we were as soon as we pulled up. I suppose running would have been pointless. The guards would have stopped me. Maybe Rachel, too, I don't know."
"You were at the Brigantine, weren't you?"
"Yes. I told you that I never was and...and...I told you about mother being there. That part is true, but I only know because she shared her journals with me before she died. I was sent there for the same reasons. Education and...and initiation."
I realized then that I didn't want to hear this. I quite selfishly wanted to hold her or kiss her just to shut her up. I felt ashamed almost immediately. She took my hand in both of hers. Slowly, she began to speak again.
"I've got to get this out. I need to. I need you to hear it. You...you don't have to do anything after that. I got out and Father led me inside after giving me a mask. I still have it somewhere. It was a golden fawn. Rachel stayed in the car, as I suppose she always did. We were led to a small lounge downstairs. It was just off of the stage, and you could hear people playing and laughing and fucking, although it was otherwise hushed."
Isa stopped again, took a deep breath, and continued.
"I knew what was going to happen to me then. There was no way I could not have. There were men in the room. Naked men. Maybe ten of them. It could have been more or less. All were masked although some I recognized as friends or associates of father. I looked at him then, eyes wide, still hoping beyond hope that he would stop this."
"What did he do?"
"I'll never forget what he said. It's the most vivid memory I have of that night. He looked down at me coldly and said, 'Good girls service men as they're instructed. Bad girls get their brother returned to them one piece at a time.' I looked over. One older man, our aunt's husband, I think, removed my dress. It was a blue that I particularly liked. He stripped me of it. I insisted on removing my own undergarments. It was the last thing I had control over that night. They 'allowed' me to keep my high heels on."
"Oh my god, Isa..."
"Wait. Please. I need to get this out. You need to hear...what I am. They took turns. Some wanted my mouth, or hands. They were easy. Some were even gentle. Most were not. Most wanted my pussy. One used my ass. It went on for so long, Reuben. I swear it was hours. No one hit me, but my hair was pulled, I was spanked, bruised, called names. They laughed as I started to cry. Oh god, and I was aroused...not the whole time, but parts. I couldn't stop it, Reuben, I couldn't!"
I was too stunned to speak. She went on, as if afraid that she would lose her nerve.
"Father watched. The whole time. He never joined in, but he drank his whiskey and he sat and watched. I suppose to make sure that they didn't go too far or that I didn't try to get away and make him look bad. When they were done using me, they left me sobbing on a couch. Someone threw me a towel, while they made jokes with Father and talked about the stock market. I tried to clean myself. I still try. It doesn't matter. I'll never be clean."
"Isa, that's not true."
"It is! Didn't you hear me? And that wasn't the only time. I suppose some men enjoyed me a bit too much. Or Father enjoyed watching me. I don't know. What I do know is that once every month or two, during a business meeting, he would look at me. I would know that I would be expected to 'entertain' whoever we were meeting with. Usually a man, sometimes a woman. Sometimes a group. I got used to it. I told myself that I enjoyed it. I said to myself that it would help me forget you. I lied to myself because it was the only control I had."
"Oh, god. Oh my god I am so sorry, Isa."
She laughed bitterly.
"You were the one man who never hurt me. Who held me and loved me the way I needed. It doesn't matter, I suppose. One day, everything changed."
"What happened?"
"There was one particularly bad...encounter at the house. I was hurting, sore, bruised. I hadn't even managed to get to my feet yet. Father and his 'guest' had closed the door behind themselves, but they hadn't bother locking it. Mother came in. She saw me there, exposed, on the floor. I suppose I was crying. I must have been. She and I locked eyes."
"And then?"
"And then...nothing. She turned and closed the door. I got myself together and managed to get back to my room. This was before Sarah was here, obviously, but Senga came and she helped me a bit. Painkillers and empathy, mostly."
"Mother didn't do anything?"
"I assumed that she was disgusted with me, although I suppose she must have called Senga. But it stopped. I was confused and afraid, but I finally relaxed a bit. And then Father passed away just a few weeks later. I'd never felt such relief."
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I don't even...if I had stayed maybe..."
"If you had stayed, then he would have used me to control you the same way. You wouldn't let him hurt me, would you?"
"No."
"So he would have got what he wanted. An heir who he could mold into his own shape. He could have forced you to do things, terrible things. And eventually, you might have even come to like them. Maybe, one day, you'd have ended up doing them to me, and I could never have coped with that. Besides, Mother and I were both pleased that you got out, even if it was accidental. You made Father so angry that he simply expelled you. He always planned on bringing you back at some point, or in his will. We kept you away, for a little longer. Mother would have reached out to you in another year and quietly written you back into her will."
"Why wait? I would have come home for you, Isa. I would have been here for you and...I didn't need the damn money for that. I love you!"
"Don't you understand? You weren't in the will because everyone knew that you were estranged. If you had any chance of making any money out of Father's death, you would have been a suspect. And it never would have ended, because no one would think that you would have done it yourself. You would have had a hitman. This way, when he died, you stayed far away."
"But father died of natural..."
I let it trail off. I felt stupid, knowing what I did now.
"Go ahead and ask. It's safe here. No one is listening. I don't mind answering."
"What if I don't want to?"
Isa scoffed. Her green eyes grew hard.
"Just do it. Do it, and then you'll know, and you can leave and never come back. I'll make sure you get your share of the inheritance."
I blinked.
"Is that what you think of me? That I would leave you?"
"Yes. You did it before. No, I know that isn't fair. I know that when you had your argument things got serious and father threatened you. I know that had I supported you, I could have come with you. I also know that you are a person of principle, unlike...unlike me."
"I won't abandon you. I always thought you were safe here, and would be happy once you reached adulthood. I wanted to reconnect with you because I love you. I don't blame anyone for defending themselves. You should know that."
Isa's voice turned sad, her typically cold eyes welling up. It was the first time in many years I remembered her crying.
"She loved you, you know. Mother, I mean. In a way, your defiance made her proud. She was proud of your success despite denying your heritage. It was strange to see in a woman who could be so reserved..."
Isa finally broke, but even then, she refused to make a sound, as if silence were her last barrier. Her whole body shook in quiet sobs, her breath almost out of control. I took her in my arms. We stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, I asked the question.
"Did you kill him?"
"No. Mother did. She loved him and must have suffered terribly, but she wouldn't lift a finger against him, out of her own twisted loyalty and affection. But she loved me too. Both of us. When she saw me there, trying to pull myself together, it was the last straw. I expect that he had lied to her that it would have been a one-time event at the Brigantine, as it was with her. She used poison. I don't know if she had any accomplices, but she might have. She told me all this later, right after his funeral. She hated herself for waiting. Apparently she had considered it after the first time he beat you. Really beat you, I mean. After it was done, she covered up as best she could, but she told me that you couldn't come home for years. That it wouldn't be safe for you to be here. She was fairly certain that an autopsy couldn't reveal anything, but we couldn't cremate him because of the will. So she kept you at arms length. She forbid me from contacting you until a certain time frame had passed or she had. The irony was that there was only a few months left before she had planned on reaching out. We both hoped that you wouldn't think of us too badly, although neither of us was sure how much we wanted to tell you. I guess you know everything now. Or everything that matters."
I nodded. This was a lot to take in, but I was grimly happy that our mother had loved her enough to do what I had not been here to do. I hated Father more than ever before, and myself perhaps more. No matter what Isa had said, I felt awful.
"Isa, I wasn't here for you. I won't make that mistake again. If you want me here, I'm yours. I don't need the money. You don't need to promise me anything. I'll take care of you as much as you allow me, and I'll support you in any way that I can. I love you."
Isa nodded, and she was crying again. So was I, for that matter. We sat there for a very long time, holding each other, saying nothing.
* * *
I woke and discovered Isa sleeping on my chest. We'd fallen asleep with me holding her on my bed, and I suppose we'd shifted around until we were both comfortable. The conversation had exhausted both of us. It made sense for it to wear her out, but I didn't understand why I found it so draining on my end. Not at first.
I hadn't been there. That's what it came down to. I could have done...something. Maybe in his demented state, Father would have killed me or had me killed, or perhaps I'd have killed him, but maybe, just maybe, I could have prevented so much suffering. I could have spared Rachel and Isa and Mother, and God only knew how many. I didn't. I'd leftover my conscience, and now it ached more than it ever had.
I'd told myself that I was a good person. That I wasn't genuinely selfish, but I knew that was false now. I'd left and made my own way, with pride and a head start that my wealthy family had gotten me. I began with advantages and called myself self-made. I abandoned the people I loved for my own freedom. I formed few connections and was bitter towards those that I left behind. There were valid reasons for my feelings, but I still felt wretched.
I couldn't change the past. I looked down at Isa, sleeping peacefully, hair a mess, eyeshadow and makeup smeared from the tears. I gently caressed her back and she made a small noise and nuzzled into me. I knew that I would never leave her again. I couldn't. No matter what happened or didn't happen between us, she was the missing part of me. I would not make the same mistake again.
Things just progressed naturally from there. I didn't intend to make love to her. If I sound defensive, its because I am. I still feel a twinge of guilt. She was very vulnerable at that moment, although, to this day, she insists that it was what she desperately needed.
Her eyes fluttered awake then, and the first thing she saw was me seeing her. I don't know how I looked, but she obviously liked what she saw. She pushed herself up on my chest, leaned forward, and kissed me. That was all it took. There were no more barriers between us.
I returned the kiss, and found my hand in her hair, holding her, keeping her there that I might devour her. How had I ever mistaken her for the character of Tonya? She was more mature, more beautiful than she had been when we were younger, but she was still Isa.
"My Isa," I muttered without thinking.
"Yours," she responded without a moment's hesitation, "forever."
Then I had my hands on her ass and was pulling her body up mine. She giggled as she slid over my hard cock. For just a moment, we were dumb and eighteen again and deeply in love. There wasn't a cloud in our sky, and things were all right. They always would be.
I pulled her shirt off, and her breasts fell free. She wore no bra. She leaned back and shimmied out of her pants while I undressed at record speed. In a few moments, our clothes lay crumpled on the floor, and we could finally be together.
Whatever reserve she had at being with me had vanished. That much was obvious. She saw me and saw how I loved her and accepted her. She never should have doubted it, but it was understandable that she would feel that way. Those who damage us often leave such wreckage in our minds.
Our bodies touched, and thought left me. We lay on our sides and kissed for what seemed like hours, our tongues dancing and hands exploring each other. Isa was herself again, her restraint as 'Tonya' long gone. She knew I was hers, and she wanted to make sure that I knew it too. She hooked her leg over mine and then suddenly shifted, so I rolled onto my back, with her straddling me. Her eyes were hungry and intense. I wondered if Sarah had seen this side of her, and I expected that she had.
I felt Isa's breasts relentlessly. She'd filled out so much since we parted, and she was so beautiful. She moaned and smirked, knowing that I was trying to distract her with arousal. She was not to be delayed, however. She steadied herself with one hand on my chest, nails digging into my pectorals just as she knew I liked it. She rose up on her knees and held my cock firmly, then sat down on it smoothly and quickly. Her need must have been great because I could hear the mix of pleasure and pain in her deep moan.
"Fuck," I said involuntarily. Isa was amazingly tight, and she gripped me hard as we joined. She smiled down at me, pleased at the power she had over me. Then she started riding me, sliding up and down my cock, pumping me. When I got used to that she stopped that motion and began to roll her hips forward and backward. I groaned and she laughed. "Are...are you trying to make me cum...as fast as you can?"
"What if I was? What if I wanted to get my brother off, first? Wouldn't that just mean I was a good sister?"
"Fuck, no...I mean yes...but...I want...I need to feel you cum on my cock..." In the age-old struggle that was more of a dance between us, she held the power tonight, and I was okay with it. I just wanted her to be happy.
"I want to, but...I need to make you cum more. It's all right if I don't ...fuuuuck ...that's not fair, Reuben."
I'd interrupted her with my hand, sliding it over the hood of her clit gently, then ever so softly applying my thumb directly to her most sensitive spot. I knew that it was exactly how she liked it because she'd taught me how.
"No, it isn't...but I'll do anything to make my sister cum. You know that. You know how far I'll go."
Isa's eyes met mine, and she picked up the pace. Her face grew more flushed, and I felt a wave of warmth roll over my cock. So she remembered as well as I did.
"You were so stupid," Isa said, but with a tone of adoration, "the amount you risked to turn me on. The number of times you showed up in my room just when I needed you. I took you for granted. Not again."
"God, Isa, you feel so good. I missed you. I missed you so fucking much."
"How much?"
"Nothing has ever been the same without you. Nothing..."
I was letting my emotions get the better of me, I was aroused and in love and sad all at once. She felt it. She had asked playfully but sensed that she'd touched on something much more profound.
"Shh...shh. I know, baby. I know. I missed you too. But we're together now, and...and we're going to be all right ...aren't we? Oh, fuck..."
We were both close.
"Yes...yes. We're going to be all right, and we're going to be together, and it's going to be good. We can make it good...we can..."
"Oh, fuck. Reuben... I'm cumming, baby. Cum in me, please. Please fill me. Please give me everything...I want your baby, Reuben. I want it so bad."
Isa had never said anything like that to me, and it had a profound effect on me. I let myself go. I felt my cock pulse seed inside of her, over and over. She cried out, as loud as she had shouted before, but this time, it was a greeting. A welcoming of her brother's cum. I wanted to give her a child as badly as she wanted me to. I wanted nothing more than to make her happy.
Isa arched her back, and I moved my hands to her waist, holding her in place as she almost fell backward. She was sobbing now, the orgasm taking her ruthlessly. After a moment, she leaned forward and kissed me, her arms around my neck and her hands running through my hair. I was still inside her, miraculously still hard, although I had no more seed to grant her.
"This is what I want," Isa said, finally stopping the kiss, panting, "now and forever. You and Rachel love each other and I made peace with that a long time ago. Sarah and I love each other too. You have something with her, too, different than me. It brings us closer, and I welcome it. I want these things to stay, but I want you too. I want all of you, and I want you to promise me that you're mine, too. That we belong to each other. I won't accept anything else."
"Yes. I love you. I want all of that. I'm yours."
"I love you too, Reuben. I'm yours too, love. Completely."
* * *
I woke to a sharp knocking at my door. I recognized it in the depths of my mind, but I couldn't place it. I didn't panic, though. How could I? Everything was right with the world. I was sexually satisfied beyond my wildest desires, my nude sister was in my arms, beautiful as ever, and a simple sheet lay over us, covering virtually nothing at all.
My visitor, being who she was, didn't wait to hear a response before she came in. I suppose having seen me naked, she felt entitled to entering.
"Reuben," Sarah said, not looking up from her tablet, "Rachel and I are scheduled to meet with Isa this morning, but she's not up, and she's not in her room. Do you know where she might be?"
Sarah was dressed for a busy day. Professional white blouse, tight black pencil skirt, high heels, her typical choker, and lovely glasses completed the ensemble. Her short platinum blonde hair was up in a stylish boyish mess. She looked beautiful that morning.
Isa answered her inquiries with a soft laugh. Sarah looked up for the first time and saw us laying there, intertwined. For a moment, I worried that she would be upset or even jealous, though that wasn't generally her nature. Instead, her face turned the brightest red that I had ever seen and her mouth dropped open comically. I couldn't do anything but look at my sister, and soon both of us were laughing. Meanwhile, Sarah started to sputter.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry...I mean... I'm not sorry that you're together...I just...oh god this is so hot...I mean private! Private! I'm sorry, I'll wait for outside or...uh...down the hall or in another room or..."
Isa mercifully answered. I probably would have let her carry on for a while longer. Sarah was adorable when she was embarrassed.
"Wait here, Sarah. I'll get dressed, then we can have our meeting. I'm famished, in any case. Do you want to join us in a bit, Reuben? Or did I wear you out too much?"
Isa's old teasing tone was back, not cold, but playful.
"I'll be up in a minute," I said, playfully smacking my sister's gorgeous ass. Isa yelped, but it wasn't an unhappy noise. Sarah made a noise between a whimper and a moan. Isa turned back to me then and smiled wickedly.
"You do know what this means, dearest brother?"
"No," I said, honestly.
"Why it means that soon, both of us will have to put Sarah through her paces. Together."
Then both Isa and I turned to look at our mutual lover with smiles that must have appeared to her to be something like predatory cats who've just discovered an injured bird. Without a word, she bit her lip and backed into the wall. The poor dear looked torn between wanting to run away or simply tear her clothes off and submit right there. I would have preferred the latter, but sadly Isa got dressed swiftly, kissed me once, gently, on the lips, and then took Sarah's arm and led her out. I dressed quickly, deciding that I might shower later.
Breakfast with all of the women I loved was not a bad way to start the day after all.
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Burn
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The endgame started a few days later.
"Wake up," Isa said, nudging me gently on the arm, "I think I know who's trying to kill us."
I opened my eyes. It was still fully dark outside, although it was late fall, so that was to be expected. It was still far earlier than I had anticipated rising. I looked over at my sister, blearily. I had fallen asleep beside her hours earlier, but now she was dressed, albeit in one of my t-shirts and loose pants.
"I know it's four in the morning, and I'm sorry," Isa said, "but I couldn't sleep after we...you know...and I remembered something Mom told me right after dad died."
I sat up and pulled the sheet off me, letting the fresh air wake me up. I was, however, still naked. Amusingly, Isa seemed to lose her train of thought as she looked at me. Her hand drifted over to my leg.
"Isa, my eyes are up here. I swear, is that all you ever think of?"
Shocked, my sister looked at me, then blushed, then noticed my slight smile. Then she hit me on the leg, gently as I chuckled.
"Jerk. I'm serious. I can't help it that you're so goddamned sexy right now. Anyway, I remembered something Mom told me. For all the bad things he did, Father tried to get me ready to take control of our operations. He left a lot out, though, things that I think he would have left to you. I tried to get Mom to open up about it, but she wouldn't. Finally, though, she admitted that there was something that I needed to know."
"And that was?"
"Blackmail. We have tons of it."
"I suppose that I'm not surprised. It does seem like something our family would do."
"Right, but he had so much of it. Some, the less important stuff, is digital. The important stuff is on paper. Some of it is in safety deposit boxes. The really juicy stuff might have backups, but we keep the originals here, in a safe."
I sat up.
"You have my attention. Are you saying that you think it might be one of these people that we have dirt on?"
"I'm saying that it is this specific person. I think. I.I'll spare you the details. I didn't have to watch them; thankfully, they merely had names and basic descriptions of the...acts...involved. Some of them are disgusting. I looked at the names, and one of them looked familiar. Look!"
Isa was excited like a little girl who'd solved a difficult riddle. I looked.
"Vincent Trevante," I said, the name clicking into place, "the jerk from the Brigantine."
"The very same," Isa said, sitting back triumphantly before continuing, "apparently our father and his had conflicted over the purchase of a tech company. Our father won, being the nastiest, by getting the dirt on his opposition's son. We have video of Vincent with...well they're not more than girls, and they most certainly are not of legal age. I got the impression that Father purchased the film from someone else, so at least he didn't have the evidence recorded."
"God. That's ...terrible. And something that might cause Vincent to act against us. Why now, I wonder?"
"I don't know," Isa said, sighing, "And that worries me. I think it has something to do with you coming home, but honestly, I can't place it."
"Well, if anyone can figure it out, it will be you, Isa. Do you think that there's any chance we can help the girls?"
Isa shook her head.
"I don't think so. I'm having Rachel run what info we have, but I honestly think that there's too little on them, and it's unlikely that they will be in any of our systems. I love you for thinking of that, though. Perhaps we can find a way to turn this evidence over to the authorities."
"Well. I suppose we have a target now. We should be careful. If we strike, we have to be sure that we only hurt those who are responsible. After they tried to kill you and Sarah, I don't like the idea of waiting, but there's no doubt that Vincent is in hiding. It's going to take time to track him down."
"Until then, we have to try and stay safe. I won't hide, though. You know that."
I did. I wished that I could have convinced her to hunker down for a few months. Still, she was convinced that it would be bad for the business if we simply disappeared after all that had happened, or worse might make us look weak to other carnivores. Families or organizations like ours who might take an opportunity to prey on us, if we appeared sickly.
So, we waited. It didn't take long for things to escalate.
* * *
Ironically, I was outside talking to Rachel about security preparations when it happened. She had things well in hand, thankfully. What happened was bad enough, but when I think of how it could have been if she hadn't been drilling our security staff daily, I get chills.
There was a loud thump, like thunder that was very close, and I felt odd pressure in my ears. I was confused and actually looked up to see if the weather had changed. Rachel was way ahead of me. I was still in shock as she started sprinting towards the noise. I followed seconds later.
I saw smoke coming from the gate, but I couldn't see it over the outbuildings and guest houses. I told myself that it wouldn't be Isa. She was coming back from a brief trip today, it was true, but it was the middle of the morning. We had deliveries, employees were coming to work, and various people were always coming and going. It was unlikely that it was her.
Naturally, I was wrong.
The staccato of gunfire came next. I recognized it by now, although it reverberated strangely off of the buildings. I realized as I turned the corner that I didn't have a gun. Rachel didn't even look but waved me back with her off-hand before taking a stance and opening fire with her sidearm. I couldn't see who she was firing at as I ducked back around the corner, but then I saw where the smoke, and now a few flames, were coming from.
Half in and half out of the gate, an armored SUV was turned over. There was no way to close it. More importantly, I knew that it was carrying Isa. Everything narrowed down at that moment. One of the front doors popped open, and a driver tried to crawl out, clearly injured. His face was covered in blood, so when he was hit in his temple, it didn't seem to change his appearance.
I'd like to say that what I did was brave. It was certainly foolish, but I don't regret it. Rachel had reloaded and opened fire again. She'd taken position behind some sandbags that had been placed there for this very purpose. And I thought she was paranoid.
Dimly aware that more of our family's security personnel were showing up and joining Rachel in repelling the intruders, I sprinted forward. I was glad that I was dressed in simple clothes, just jeans and a dress shirt that was tailored to be a little loose for comfort. They didn't get in the way as I shot like a bolt launched at the car. I didn't slow down in time and slammed into the side, which was currently facing the inside of the vehicle. I have no idea why I wasn't shot on the way in, but presumably, Rachel had them keeping their heads down, or they were just too shocked by my idiocy.
I saw that the back door was slightly ajar and realized that someone was trying to open it. Miraculously, or perhaps because of the robust construction, it swung open smoothly as I pulled it. Isa was there, hanging upside down, bleeding from a cut in her forehead that came from god knows where. I could tell that she was stunned, her eyes unfocused. I didn't know if that was a result of injury or shock, but it didn't matter. I ignored the patter of gunfire pinging off the outside of the SUV while I gently held her torso and unlocked her safety belt.
I took my sister gently into my arms. Isa wasn't limp, but she made no attempt to stand apart from me, or look around. I decided that I would have to carry her out. I had already moved an injured person, which even I knew was a bad idea, but I couldn't leave her out here in the middle of all that flying lead. I pulled her closer, holding her like I would a bride, which is tough to do when you're crouching. I turned to look back to where my own security was. That was when I became certain that I was about to die.
A man peered around the corner of the flipped SUV. He was dressed in all black, a simple balaclava covering his features. He held a gun with both hands, and it seemed to me like he knew how to use it. I'm still not sure what it was, although I suspect now it was some kind of shotgun. From where I was crouching, it looked impossibly huge. He started to draw a bead on me.
He wouldn't have to move the tip of the barrel more than a few inches to kill me, or Isa, or maybe both of us. What could a gun like that do at a range of six feet? Nothing pretty, I was sure. All I could do was hunch protectively over Isa's helpless form and hope that she might survive.
I heard a shot, from close by, complete with the snap that I had heard before as something passed over my head, but it came from behind me. For a moment, I was sure that I was dead. Then the man in front of me slouched to the ground, maybe dead, maybe not. I didn't care which. I pulled Isa close and ran back towards the house, not thinking of what might happen, only thinking of the possibility of safety. I'd never run so fast in my life. Isa felt light as a feather in my arms, and when I finally reached the garage that I had initially taken cover behind, I had the absurd thought that I might have dropped her. I looked down, and she was still there. I could see that she was at least somewhat responsive. Her eyes, however, saw only me, and her expression was that of a terrified child.
"It's all right, Isa. I've got you."
I tried to be confident and brave, and all the things that I didn't feel right then. She nodded, but her expression didn't change. I held her and talked to her for a while in a hushed tone, meaningless encouragements. I was so focused on my task that I didn't even notice that the gunfire had stopped until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I probably jumped a foot off of the ground before turning and realizing that it was Rachel.
"Sorry," she said, a gentle smile on her face. Somehow she was calm, relaxed even. I just nodded. "You should probably take Isa down to the medical center, Reuben. She probably isn't hurt, but she needs to be looked at. I've already had one of my teams find Sarah ...she's all right. If you want, I'll have them take her downstairs too." I nodded again and turned to walk to the mansion, scarcely noticing the team following me now. I stopped after a few steps and turned around.
"You shot that guy, didn't you? You saved us?"
"Yeah, Reuben, I shot him, but we all worked together to..."
"No, Rachel. I mean, yeah, everyone did their jobs and its going to be raises and bonuses all around, but you saved me. You saved Isa. If you wanted to know how you were going to repay your debt, I'd say you just did. You saved your family."
Rachel nodded, and as she turned away, I could swear that I saw the faintest trace of a tear on her cheek.
* * *
Isa was all right, physically at least. Sarah helped calm her and bring her out of her shock. My sister somehow avoided serious effects, having only a few cuts and some temporary hearing loss. I had never been more grateful.
Sarah helped me, as well. She insisted that I submit to inspection by the medics we always had on staff now. I was all right, physically at least, aside from a few scrapes and bruises that I had no memory of receiving. I knew that I'd have nightmares about this day for many years to come.
I felt a cold rage build up. I was afraid for myself, it was true. I wanted to live, and I was upset that someone had tried to kill us. Once both Sarah and I were safe and then we had figured out who had attempted the hit and why I felt a bit better of it. I didn't really like these people, but I could have seen a peaceful resolution. That was before this brazen attack. Isa had been a target, but she hadn't been in the car when Sarah had been attacked. Now, they had tried to kill her directly, and it was like a switch had been flipped in my brain.
Now, I was enraged. I didn't show it, though. Father had taught me to feel rage but to not let it possess me. To use it as motivation but not an excuse. It was cold, like ice burning in my veins. I had to act on it, or I would go mad, but I didn't have to do so hastily. I looked over the table at Isa. She was worried, afraid, and her reserve had cracked. She showed all of her emotions. Tear streaks ran through the soot on her face. Our medic had checked her over. Rachel had directed our security to hold the mansion and the grounds at all costs. The local police had shown up, and it was likely that the FBI would be on the scene soon. Sarah led us upstairs, Isa and I followed obediently.
"How are you doing?" I asked Isa.
"Scared. Tired. Useless. But I'm okay, thanks to you and Rachel."
"Good. Are you all right with me taking the lead on this with law enforcement?"
"Yes. What do we tell them?"
"Nothing but what happened, exactly and precisely. Leave nothing out of the day's events. Don't mention that we know who did it. Don't even hint it. Let yourself show all the shock of the event."
"All right. What are we going to do?"
I smiled at her and kissed her temple, just happy that she was relatively unharmed.
"I'm going to do anything necessary to protect our family. If it means wiping out the Trevante family, then so be it. I'm going to let these fucks know what happens when they attempt to hurt Isa De Heer or anyone I love."
Isa's eyes grew large, hearing my big words, but she also smiled. It was reassuring, this threat, as I hoped it would be. I'd involve her in the planning if she wanted, but even if she didn't, I was going to protect her. Whatever it took.
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Vengeance
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We put up with the weeks of investigation, the endless crime scene investigation, questioning, and offers of protection. We cooperated but politely declined the latter. I'd put Rachel on the task of tracking down each individual member of the Trevante Syndicate. No action would be taken yet.
Sarah continued to work at the house, and both she and Isa were attending post-traumatic therapy. I did not. I wasn't avoiding it out of any misguided sense of inner strength, but rather that I thought it might help with my rage. I didn't want any help with that. I tried to keep it there, where I needed it.
Isa and Sarah ran the business, as they had before I had arrived. I spent time with Rachel, drawing up lists, determining which assets to place where. What we lacked in-house we could hire for reasonable rates. So I paid far more than reasonable and got exactly what I needed. By the time two months had passed, the bomb attack had been mainly written off by the media as "radical terrorists" which was as far from the truth as you could get and still be on the same planet, but it served our purposes.
Finally, when everything was ready, I made a phone call. It was a front, of course, but by now I knew that was where he had been working from, waiting for our countermove. I wanted him to know that I knew.
"Hello, how may I direct your call?"
"Vincent Trevante, please."
A long pause.
"He's not currently available. May I take a message."
"Yes. Please tell him that Reuben De Heer called and would like to meet with him. This Saturday at the Brigantine, at 9 pm sharp. I want a settlement. For my family's sake."
"I'll deliver the message. Can I help you in any other way?"
"Yes. Tell him that if he isn't there, I'll be forced to seek alternative solutions."
I hung up. The hook was baited.
* * *
The Brigantine was different now. Their security force had been purged of anyone remotely unreliable. The other three founding families had a hand in that. It was useless to them if attendees would be too concerned with assassination attempts to attend. Gascard Villiers and Lady Merovengi both were attending as "neutral parties."
The fact that Lady Merovengi was my paternal aunt wasn't lost on anyone, but her husband understood that it was vital that she ensure that her remaining family was safe. We passed the time pleasantly. She was strange but not as needlessly cruel as her brother Rudi had been, and had a sharp wit. She also was remarkably beautiful, appearing much as I imagined Isa would in twenty years: weathered but not defeated.
Gascard Villiers was a man in his sixties wearing a faded tweed suit. He was balding, plump, and looked bored as he sat at a blackjack table, idly playing some form of solitaire. As a friend of my father's, I knew that he was anything but the absent-minded academic image that he projected to the world. He was cunning and dangerous. He was here to guarantee that there would be no violence during the meeting. Occasionally he met my eyes. I smiled back blandly, as my father would have. He, of all the people there, knew that I was up to something, but if he thought I would try something at the club, he was mistaken.
Vincent arrived in a helicopter with his security entourage. Unsurprisingly, they were not allowed within one-hundred meters of the building. He walked into the building as I had: alone.
We were ushered to a room upstairs. Typically this would be filled with VIPs engaging in some kind of group debauchery, but the club was closed tonight. The Brigantine management knew that they had to settle this issue or risk closure. No one wanted that.
"De Heer," Vincent said by way of greeting as he sat. He still said it with the same disdain that he had used when we had first met. I met him with a polite, if chilly, smile as I sat down.
"Vincent Trevante. What am I going to do with you?"
His eyes narrowed, and he looked at the men in the room. They held submachine guns, just as they had the night of my attempted assassination. They stood firm, however. The management had made better choices this time. Evidently, Vincent had expected me to make the same moves that he did, which was silly. It wasn't likely to work again, and I had no urge to violate the sanctity (or whatever passed for it) of the Brigantine.
"Let's set some house rules, gentlemen," the Lady Villiers began, "we're here for discussions, not insults, so respectful conversation only."
She seated her self across from Gascard, who nodded in agreement.
"Well, Reuben," Vincent said with slightly less disdain, "what are your intentions? Can we settle this peacefully? Or do you need more demonstrations of our reach?"
He was bold, I'd give him that. I think he expected me to rise to his provocations the same way I had that first night we'd met. Tonight was different, however. I felt like I was in my element again. Father had prepared me well for this.
"I think we can make suitable arrangements in that regard."
"Good," he said, a smug smile appearing on his face as if by magic. I cut him off.
"I have a requirement. Just one. And then we can end all hostilities."
"What is it, De Heer?"
He raised his eyebrow, and I smiled blandly in return. Father would have been proud.
"You have to commit suicide. Preferably now, but you can have twenty-four hours if you need to prepare yourself or settle your affairs.
"You're joking," he said, looking around him and finding only serious faces. "You can't seriously think that I would do that."
"Truthfully," I responded, "I don't think that you will. You're too selfish to think of your wife and child. That was your wife that first night, wasn't it? She'd become accustomed to being shared, but didn't understand what I represented to you. How powerless I made you feel. How worried you were that I'd simply turn the video over to the authorities."
"Shut up," Vincent said, but, as before, I could see behind his mask. He was crumbling already.
"The irony is that I had no idea about the blackmail, or that your tastes tended toward underage girls..."
"Shut up!"
Vincent stood up and slammed his hands on the table. In a moment, a half dozen submachine guns were leveled at his chest. Red dots danced on his chest. I waited, patiently, for the inevitable reaction, but said nothing.
"This...this is worthless! I'm leaving. I swear to you, De Heer, you'll regret not coming here in good faith."
I kept my voice level with some difficulty, but I did it. I had a little speech prepared. It wasn't precisely memorized, but I had the high points clearly set aside in my brain.
"I assure you, Vincent, that I would much rather that you be the only casualty of your bad decisions. But, should you refuse, well, I won't have much choice, will I? A man has to protect his family, and if that means killing you, your uncle, both of your younger sisters, their families and children, and of course your wife and child, well, that's the price of doing business. If you go on your own, then there won't be any more need for revenge on my part, and we won't have any more blackmail on your family, so they'll be free as well. If we have to kill you, well, we can't stop there, can we? We have to do what you so inadequately attempted: we have to wipe all of the Trevantes out, so there is no more threat to mine."
"You talk a big game, De Heer."
"I know it sounds absurd," I said, reaching into my pocket. The security agents tensed ever so slightly. Gascard raised his eyebrow, which is probably the closest he would come to showing fear. I calmly removed my phone. "It turns out that when you have enough money and time, you can find out nearly anyone's schedule," I said, as I perused the list, "Beth Trevante, aged thirty-two, currently at the hairdresser, heading out shortly to be driven to the high-end day-care center where she will pick up Rebecca Trevante, your daughter, aged 3. Beth, who loves you, but who is unaware of your interest in children, and who has very little idea of the reckless actions you have taken. They can both be dead within seconds of each other, neither even having enough time to be afraid. It isn't something I want to do. It's likely its the sort of thing that I would have nightmares about for the rest of my life. But you tried to kill my sister, and it turns out that I would murder a vast number of people to keep her safe."
Trevante looked around, and for what was probably the first time in his life, was confronted with his own mortality. There was no pity in the faces that watched him. It was likely that Gascard at least had plans to deal with him quietly for breaching the peace of the Brigantine. I couldn't allow that, as much as I might like to. The world in which my family moved, the shadowy world that existed even beneath what people quaintly called "organized crime," had to know that the De Heer family would not tolerate enemies.
"Unbelievable. The intelligence we gathered all indicated that you were some kind of do-gooder. I was certain that you were going to turn...turn over what your father had on me to the police. Instead...you ended up being just like him. Twenty...twenty-four hours. You said you'd give me a day. Is that right?"
"Yes, Vincent. We'll need your body, of course, and for it to be relatively complete for verification. We'll return it for burial."
He laughed, but it turned into a dry cough. A man waiting just beyond the table brought him a glass of water, and he gulped all of it down.
"All right. I'm going to go home and tell my wife what needs to happen. Then I'll take care of it. Someone...someone will contact you. Is that acceptable?"
"It is," I said. I didn't show it, but I felt a great sense of relief. I had shown up to this meeting ready to harm innocents to protect my loved ones. It was the closest that I'd ever come to being my father, and despite not having ordered the actions, I still felt profound guilt. I suppose that guilt was a good sign, in a way. It meant that I wasn't inured to such things and that I still knew right from wrong.
We stood and shook hands, and I respected that despite sweating quite a bit, he trembled only slightly. To my surprise, the Lady Merovengi brought over a notebook bound in rich red leather. She set it on the table, already opened, and handed me a pen. I guessed she had been writing in it while we had been talking. There was a brief description of our agreement. I felt somewhat stupid in only then understanding that we weren't just having a meeting on neutral ground, but the other three families would be guaranteeing this deal between us. If Vincent killed himself, then his loved ones would be protected from further De Heer vengeance, and if he didn't, then someone else might get to him before I did. As I didn't intend to renege on my word, I signed it. After reading it over, Vincent did the same.
He locked eyes with me for just a moment, and then nodded and walked swiftly out of the room and then the front door of the Brigantine. I wondered what his childhood must have been like. He had abhorrent ideas about what constituted love and more than likely had many victims, but he didn't originate in a vacuum. Like me, he probably had someone before him setting an example. Unlike me, he never diverged from his expected role.
As I watched his helicopter depart, I vowed yet to never allow myself to fall to the depravities of my father. I would be the protector that he never was. And I'd rely on Isa to help keep me on the right path.
We were De Heers, after all, and strong.
* * *
In the end, Vincent made the correct choice. He killed himself. He used poison. Maybe he thought it would be painless, but it wasn't. I am given to understand that he didn't leave much of a mess, however. I insisted on viewing the body and the DNA results personally. One can never be too sure.
I saw his wife at the funeral. I recognized her as the beauty in the green gown from the Brigantine, the first night that I had met Vincent. She nodded to me in recognition as I shook her hand and expressed my condolences. Does that seem inappropriate to you, to show up at the burial of the man who you wanted dead? Maybe it was, but I could see something like relief in his widow's eyes as she thanked me for attending. Perhaps she did know of his proclivities after all. In any case, all hostilities ceased between us. We still kept a watch on the entire Trevante Syndicate, of course, and we would for years to come, but for now, all was as it should be.
It was over.
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Legacy
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CelebRumors.corp, September 2nd, 20xx
by Victoria Evans
De Heer Family Revealed as Owners of Private Island
Long rumored to be in her possession, Isa De Heer confirmed in a brief press conference today that the island of Carradas was under her exclusive ownership. While some questions remain about the nature of the resort on the other half of the island, an individual close to the family has stated that it is used for "special guests" of both the family and occasionally hosts corporate events for their various subsidiaries. For the moment, rumors of illicit and taboo activities taking place there seem to be just that, rumors. Nonetheless, our intrepid bloggers, including yours truly, continue to angle for an invitation to the exclusive getaway.
In happier and less controversial news, Isa also confirmed that last month she gave birth to healthy twins, who she intends to raise with her partner, Sarah Huriens. While no father is publicly listed, it is assumed that she underwent an In Vitro fertilization at a private clinic. Savvy readers will recall that a little over nine months ago, her partner narrowly escaped a bold attack by radical terrorists on the streets of New York. Isa once again thanked the quick action of De Heer security and the responsiveness of the NYPD in keeping Sarah safe. She also credited her brother Reuben's return to assist in daily operations of the De Heer financial empire with allowing her time to properly rest and deliver the babies safely.
As always, when we dig up more dirt, you'll be the first to see it!
5 Years Later:
The beach was pleasant this time of year. It was warm, but the breeze was high, and there was little humidity. Isa and I stood in the shade of a well-manicured grove of trees, the sand cool beneath our bare feet. My sister wore a simple white sundress, with a hat and a shawl to keep the sun off. She was worried about losing the extra weight that motherhood had endowed her with, but I found her even more beautiful.
"Stop looking at me like that," she eventually protested, before giggling.
"Nonsense. I can look at you however I want. We're safe here."
I held and then kissed her hand to further make the point. She looked at me and sighed. Rather than exasperation, her eyes showed sincere gratitude. I felt the same way. We were alive and well. Our children were safe, happy, and healthy, as were the other members of our unusual little family: Sarah and Rachel.
Currently, both of them were entertaining the twins down near the water. Security kept a watchful eye on them from a respectful distance, as they always did. Sarah splashed water on Zoe, and our daughter returned fire. Then Stephen ran over to his Aunt Rachel, who obliged him by picking him up and gently plunging him into the water, careful not to get water in his mouth or nose. I must have been showing my exasperation with Rachel's refusal to slow down, given her state.
"Relax, Reuben," Isa said as she rubbed my back, "Rachel can take care of herself. She's early in her pregnancy, and neither of our children weighs much at all. Remember that she's in better shape than either of us."
It was true. Rachel had just started to show recently, and in her simple black one-piece suit, it somehow made her even sexier. Her thighs and arms had a healthy tan, and she still had her excellent muscle tone. She'd let her hair grow out a little bit, but only to the point where she could have a short ponytail. I loved her more than ever.
"Besides," Isa added mischievously, "you're the one who needs to slow down a little. After all, you're going to have at least three children to raise soon. And that's assuming that Rachel doesn't have twins."
God help me, I thought, watching our children play. At least I had a lot of people to help me. I'd never thought of myself as polyamorous, and neither had Isa. Still, we accepted certain things with a minimum of fuss or jealousy.
Neither my sister nor I felt jealous of when we were with Sarah individually. For her part, Sarah never felt insecure about either of us being with anyone else. She said that we made up for any absence when we played with her together. When Isa and I spent the night with Sarah, we generally were quite dominant with her, leaving her a well-fucked little puddle that had to sleep in the next day.
Rachel insisted on only being mine. She wanted no part of any other men or women. She never complained about any time I spent with either Isa or Sarah. In fact, I had to be very attentive to her moods, as she was reticent to make any sort of demands on my time. I made sure she knew that I loved her and made love to her often, doing my best to please her, but had I simply used her for my own pleasure, she would have been satisfied to a degree. She never quite got past the programing of her upbringing, so the best I could do was ensure that I was a good man to her, and be mindful of her emotions.
We all raised the children together. Zoe and Stephen knew that Isa had carried them, and they called her "mother" or more often "mama." They referred to Sarah as "mommy" or "mom." Me, they often called "papa" and Rachel "auntie." We ensured that everyone "knew" that Isa and Sarah were a couple, and that Rachel and I were one as well. This was the cover that kept our unusual lifestyle from causing problems.
As for the money and property, it stayed together, as one fund, but Isa, Rachel and I shared ownership over everything. We had our individual areas of expertise, but we rarely argued. We worked well together, but we also had systems in place for inheritance, and for ensuring that things didn't become something for future generations to squabble over. At worst, anyone of us (and any future owners, such as our children) could simply take a significant liquid sum and remove ourselves from the business, no questions asked, and the amount was never going to be enough to bankrupt the family as a whole. Frankly, I was with my family and didn't have to worry about paying the rent anymore. I was happy.
I felt Isa's hand squeezing mine. I had been lost in thought.
"Something is bothering you," my sister said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I said, releasing her hand long enough to walk over to the picnic table that currently held our laptops and a few small folders of work-related items. We could never completely unplug, but that was all right. We had much more leisure time than many, and we were grateful for our wealth.
I took a small envelope from a folder and handed it to Isa.
"It's not a gift," I said, suddenly realizing how this might look. Isa raised an eyebrow, then took out the small papers inside. They were facsimiles of legal documents that I had signed a few days ago and placed in a secure location. As she read them, her eyes grew larger. When she was finished, she was frowning.
"Reuben," she said, slowly, "I'm not sure that I'm comfortable with this. I don't think I could do what you're asking..."
"It's a precaution," I said, "and while it may seem a bit extreme, I want it in place. Father was always cruel, but everyone around him, even those who loved him, said that he became something different towards the end. Something monstrous. I did some reading, and grandfather and great-grandfather may have both undergone similar changes. By giving you the authority to commit me in advance, I feel like you would be able to act swiftly to prevent me from hurting those I love. Who knows, maybe you could even get me help in time. As far as I know, there was no attempt to treat any of our male ancestors with psychiatric drugs or other treatments. I don't think any of them were officially diagnosed with anything beyond psychosis or dementia."
Isa shook her head.
"What if it happens to me, instead, Reuben? I mean, I always assumed that Father's final...changes...were due to some kind of unreconciled abuse in his childhood. He certainly abused both of us."
"There's no record of any women in our heritage doing things like this, and our ancestors kept very specific, if concealed, records. No, if there is any danger in our line, it is present in me. And Stephen."
"Don't say that!"
Isa stopped, realizing that she had shouted. The others down the beach looked at us, and we waved back at them, smiling if a bit stiffly.
"Don't say that," Isa continued, "You would never hurt our son the way Father hurt you. I know that. And, no matter our genetics, I know that choice and upbringing had something to do with this. I...I've always hoped that by being there for you, even just a little, I made things better."
"You did," I reassured Isa, "but I still have nightmares about hurting you, or Zoe or...god, even just people working around our grounds. This document gives me peace of mind. It gives you a way to stop me without having to make the same decision that our mother did."
I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned in and kissed her. A breeze picked up, pulling her hat away, but she ignored it, responding more deeply.
"Eww!"
Zoe had been the one expressing her disgust with this display of affection. She was outspoken, perceptive, and intelligent. Stephen was too busy running down the escaped hat and bringing it back to his mother. He was already courageous, gallant, and kind.
To the world, Isa ran the empire. To those in the know, I ran the darker side of things. Together, we were both feared and respected and even loved by some.
We were the latest, but not the last, generation of the De Heer family, and we were strong.