SIX MASTERS ISLAND - PERVERSE INTENTIONS
by Candace Smith
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Candace Smith
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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PART I
He had always been dominant, though during his impetuous youth, others had tried to control him. But, he was patient, and he knew that there were lessons to learn… trophies to collect to mark his expertise… as he rose above the ignorant fools, to the position he deserved… deserved, and demanded. He would be Master. Crucial Needs.
PRELUDE
Thomas Harrison Kinsey and Amelia Trechart Kinsey are pleased to announce the birth of twin sons on May 11, 1978 at Kinsey-McClatchy Memorial Hospital. Thomas Harrison Kinsey, Jr. weighed nine pounds, two ounces and is twenty-one inches long. Jeremy Trechart Kinsey weighed five pounds, three ounces and is nineteen inches long. Mother and babies are reported in good health, and Mrs. Kinsey has indicated announcements and invitations for the formal welcoming party to be held at the Kinsey Plantation will be issued within the next few weeks. Kinsey Tribune - May 12, 1978
Amelia was only partially conscious, too tired to scream after ten hours of labor, and the contractions were almost a numbing inconvenience, at this point. She would not allow her belly to be scarred by a caesarean section, as long as the Doctor kept assuring her that everything was fine.
Damn, why hadn’t they come up with some drugs for this disgusting procedure? Probably because men made most of the decisions on such things, and mere labor pains were not a priority. They sure as hell would be if they had to deliver.
Another tightening pulled across her grossly misshapen abdomen, and with exhausted determination, she pushed her babies into the world.
Later, she would reflect on the Doctor’s face as the smile melted into the concerned, proficient expression of his profession, and to the nurse who had assisted with an almost panic stricken look in her wide eyes. If Amelia had been able to lift herself, to stare at her gaping open womb and into the secret room her babies had grown in, she would have seen Thomas, already fighting for his place as first born, with his brother’s umbilical cord wrapped around his arm and clenched tightly in his fist. A short while later Jeremy expelled, feeling more like a large gush of some soft substance, than the previous, ripping delivery of his brother.
The babies were placed together in a large clear plastic bassinette, with pale blue blankets wrapping them in cocoons and leaving only their heads and small fists visible. Thomas stood by the window with John McFarland, editor of the newspaper he owned, and they tapped on the glass, trying to get the babies’ attention. The boys’ eyes remained fixed on each other, in an unnerving gaze of intense concentration.
Thomas was five minutes older than Jeremy, but that extra five minutes seemed to have sucked something out of his smaller sibling. They would have been identical, had Thomas not weighed a full four pounds more, and have the healthy pink hue missing from his brother. Jeremy was as wrinkled as an old man, all loose hanging skin, without an extra ounce to fill out the flesh. His skin was so pale, blue veins could be seen pulsing on his bald skull. Thomas, of course, had entered the world with a full head of riotous curly black locks.
Almost immediately, the parents fawned over the healthy baby boy, and barely acknowledged the weaker child. If not for Thomas’ incessant wailing whenever he was separated from his brother, Jeremy would most probably have ended up in the full-time care of the nanny who fawned over him.
“We can’t bring him out for the party, Thomas,” Amelia said absently, as she struggled into the binding lycra girdle to hide the tummy that had not tightened sufficiently to be hidden in her form fitting royal blue gown. She stared at the embarrassing undergarment in the mirror, and as she slipped the silk dress over her hips, her mind flashed on the pathetic twin, blaming him for the destruction of her twenty-three inch waist, and her inability to carry another child.
“Thomas will cry, Amelia. He’ll be bawling the whole time people are trying to enjoy their cocktails,” her husband replied. “We should have separated them from the beginning, before they could form this attachment to each other.” Thomas Sr. adjusted his bowtie.
“I’ll have Sarah carry him then, and we can keep him wrapped in a quilt. Maybe it will keep Thomas quiet.” Amelia sent for the nanny and issued instructions concerning, what she hoped, would be minimal attention towards the puny baby. “Don’t forget to keep his head covered. I don’t know why the hell he hasn’t at least started growing hair to cover those ropes of disgusting veins. Make sure you keep him where Thomas can see him so he doesn’t cry, but stay out from underfoot.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah replied, and she silently seethed as she made her way back to the nursery. Luckily, one of her newer uniforms was clean and pressed, and she knew which soft blanket she could wrap Jeremy in to hide his disappointing appearance from curious gawkers.
Sarah was eighteen… okay, seventeen… but she had passed her high school equivalency, and helped raise her six brothers and sisters. She had no problem stretching her qualifications to pursue the position at the Kinsey Plantation as live-in nanny for the children, and to finally escape the drunken stepfather who had beaten and abused her since her mother’s death four years ago.
Now, Margie could take her place as the man’s victim, until she found her own ticket out of Bridgeville and poverty. Sarah knew her siblings would not blame her when she never crossed back to the poor side of town to visit, and risk her precarious employment. She was amazed her credentials had not been scrutinized more closely, and she relished her position and living in the mansion to care for the small southern town’s two prodigal sons.
Of the two babies, Jeremy had a much calmer disposition and was not nearly as taxing or demanding as Thomas, though the larger infant would patiently wait while Sarah tended to his smaller brother, and stare intensely at her with his little black marble eyes, encouraging her to take her time and make sure Jeremy was cared for. When it was Thomas’ turn, he would flail his limbs, arch his strong back, spit food he did not like, and generally announce his displeasure at the whole nonsense of being a baby. The sophisticated wealthy parents did not recognize these personality differences, and as a matter of fact, Sarah could not remember either parent ever holding the smaller sweet baby since they had brought the twins home a month ago.
After the party, Amelia attempted to put the babies in separate rooms, and when that did not work, separate cribs. All the efforts to separate the babies had resulted in racking, continual wails from Thomas, until he was laid beside his brother. When Thomas was picked up he never looked at his guardian, but kept his dark gaze on the infant left in the crib.
As the boys grew, another distinguishing difference surfaced. Thomas was healthy, rarely catching colds or other childhood diseases. Jeremy continued to stay a smaller, delicate version of his brother, and even the slightest case of sniffles seemed to escalate into pneumonia.
By the age of three, Jeremy had been hospitalized seven times. Amelia added a full-time nurse to the household staff, because Jeremy could not be transported to the hospital without Thomas, or neither would sleep nor eat. It was finally diagnosed that Jeremy had the weakest of immune systems, and that there was no cure, prescription, or therapy that would relieve the permanent malady. The Doctor recommended the fragile boy be kept in the house, away from the dangers lurking in the air and grounds outside the Plantation walls.
Naturally, this meant Thomas stayed at home, as well, and over the years the boys continued to share a room, a teacher, and no other friends. It unnerved the parents to watch the boys communicate silently, anticipating the other’s requests. Sarah thought it was fascinating, and she even devised methods to see if the boys could predict their brother’s actions from different rooms. They delighted in Sarah’s games, and she was the only one who had ever seen them smile.
Over the first few months, Sarah’s position within the household had changed also, with a late night visit from Thomas Sr. during one of the babies’ hospital stays. He walked into the nursery without knocking, and her eyes had flown open at the familiar sound as she lay in her small bed in the corner. Her skin rose to goose bumps, and her mind flashed back to her drunken stepfather making his approach.
Mr. Kinsey was sober… though a familiar, lecherous gleam shined in his black eyes as he sat on the side of her bed. “Happy Birthday, Sarah.”
She wanted to crawl under the covers, and tears were already filling her eyes as she managed to whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Kinsey.”
His steady, deep, authoritative voice continued, “I take it you are enjoying your new position, away from that three room shack, and away from Frank. At seventeen, it must have been a truly welcome change to have three meals a day, someone else to clean house, and only two charges to care for.”
“Yes, Mr. Kinsey,” she answered nervously. Oh god, he found out. Is he going to fire me? “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Kinsey, and I am eighteen now. I didn’t lie about my high school diploma, I really do have one, and I do have experience with babies.”
“I am well aware of your credentials, Sarah.” He reached over and curled some of her brown hair off her cheek and around her ear. The girl had the classic look of a non-descript waif. She was not exactly ugly, but leaned towards a homely young woman with no accentuating features… other than a firm, curvy body that he found most pleasing. And it was not as if anyone would know he had resulted to her, instead of some flashy mistress. “Did you really believe I would have allowed you to be brought into my house, to care for my sons, without checking your past?”
“No, Mr. Kinsey. I’m sorry I lied to you. Please, please don’t fire me, sir. I can’t go back there, please, sir,” she begged. The filling tears shined in her blue eyes from the moonlight, and she sensed the confident smile on the face hidden in the shadows.
“There are other things you can do, things Amelia is a little too refined to be pressed into service, but qualifications I believe you also possess in your list of attributes.” No, Amelia rarely let herself be touched, after performing the duty of presenting him with not just one… but two, sons. The passionate tiger he had married, turned into a frigid, unemotional woman as soon as she secured herself in the Kinsey fortune, by presenting him with heirs.
He refocused his attention on the trembling girl, and found her hand resting on the quilt. His thorough investigation of the Sarah had assured him of her sexual use by that bastard of a stepfather, but he waited until she was eighteen, and now his conscious was at ease as he placed her quivering hand over the bulge in his robe. He held it there, and waited silently for the decision he knew she would make.
Sarah was shocked, and miserably aware of what the new requirements would be to stay in the luxurious life-style that would otherwise be unobtainable. She could not go back to her step-father and the helplessness that trapped the people in Bridgeville, knowing the cost to stay in the shack would force her to once more service her drunken step-father. The price to stay at the Plantation… and more importantly, with the twins… would be service to the wealthiest, most influential patriarch in town.
Sarah let her hand travel under the hem of his robe, to the soft flesh of his turgid shaft. Her finger found the moist drop on the tip of the spongy extension, and after spreading the sticky substance she wrapped her fist around his length. An arm slid under her shoulders, lifting her until she was sitting, while she continued to stroke and pump. An encouraging push against the back of her head had her lowering her mouth to greet him, while her free hand slipped open the sash to his robe.
As she engulfed his thick shaft, she concentrated on the clean smelling musk of him, a much appreciated difference from the smelly, sweaty organ of her stepfather. Her tongue traveled his length while her hands caressed his sack, sucking him and taking him deep in her throat, and applying all the tricks she had learned over the years to hasten the act. At last the hairy pouch tightened, his breathing became labored with sexual heat, and a salty mess spasmed and then oozed into her mouth. When she raised her head, he stood and left the room without another word.
During one of his many nightly visits, while Sarah crouched on her small bed on all fours with her floor length cotton nightgown raised to her waist, and Mr. Kinsey’s open velvet robe swishing around his thighs as he squeezed her bottom and pumped madly into her, Sarah’s tearful face looked towards the cribs, and she saw the babies silently staring at her disgrace.
As the boys grew, the basement was converted into a huge playroom, with carousels, swing sets, sandboxes and jungle gyms. There were forts and fake trees to climb, a carpet of plastic grass, and all manner of games and books. Their current favorite was ‘Timothy Turtle’, and they took turns reading the sentences.
“Timothy Turtle, why do you hide in your shell?” Jeremy squeaked.
“There are big things in the pond that are scary.” Thomas made his voice deep… as much as a five year old can.
“There are fun things by the pond. Come out and see.” Jeremy coaxed.
Sarah smiled and announced it was time to wash up for dinner, and on the way to their room, the boys stopped by the windows and looked longingly onto the back lawn, to the real grass and real trees outside. Sarah was accustomed to their uncanny premonitions, and was not surprised when they spotted a turtle crawling towards the pond. Jeremy and Thomas stared at the creature, and then they looked into each other’s eyes and nodded.
“Sarah, may I go out and bring the turtle inside? We can put him in a box in the playroom,” Thomas suggested.
Sarah was at a loss, as the boys never chose to be separated. “Jeremy, is it all right with you if Thomas goes outside for a moment?”
“Yes, Sarah. I know I can’t go out, so Thomas will have to bring things to me,” he said softly. Jeremy shook the whole time Thomas was gone, while Sarah laid her comforting hands on his shoulders, and his brother looked back at him several times as he ran. He was huffing by the time he burst back through the door, proudly displaying the palm-sized reptile.
They brought the turtle downstairs and made a wonderful play area for it, complete with sand hills and a small pool of water. Three days later, the turtle lay on its back, its outstretched neck looped with a shoestring that was tied to a heavy metal toy truck. Sarah found it while the boys were with the teacher, and she quickly freed it and placed it out back by the pond. No one mentioned the incident, and the boys did not ask Sarah what had become of the turtle.
They liked books on animals, and if the creature was something that Thomas could catch, he would bring it to Jeremy in the playroom. The boys never went so far as to kill their new pets, and they never disfigured or permanently maimed them, so Sarah kept quiet about their unusual conduct. She always rescued the animals from the strange scenarios and released them, and the trio never discussed any of the perverse games.
By twelve, Thomas was accompanying Sarah on short trips to town, keeping Jeremy on his cell phone the whole while and describing the sights for him while snapping pictures to share. Sarah let him bring back the most wonderful things, and they were added to the stash in the basement.
The following year the boys turned thirteen, and their parents, who had not been completely blind to their sons’ devotion to each other, brought home a psychiatrist to study them. They had to get Thomas out into the world, so he could prepare himself to eventually take over the family legacy… even if this meant turning Jeremy into more of a neurotic mess than he already was. Besides, Mr. Kinsey reminded them, Jeremy would always have Sarah.
The Doctor’s advice was to separate the boys immediately, and he insisted it should have been done years ago. Amelia was almost reduced to tears, when he reprimanded her for permitting Thomas to forgo his whole childhood while he played the role of caretaker for his brother. He even suggested that Thomas might never recognize his own strength, independence and full potential, after being cloistered behind the walls of the Plantation. Naturally, Amelia glared at Jeremy, and blamed him for daring to taint her perfect son.
It was decided that Sarah could stay on to care for Jeremy… neither parent wanted to be reminded that they produced such a frail, sickly being, and Thomas, Sr. did not want to give up his convenient, sexual outlet. Everyone had anticipated a disastrous tantrum from the boys, and they were surprised a week later when Thomas and Jeremy were standing by the massive oak doors with his suitcases. Thomas was being sent to an Academy, and Jeremy would live life outside the walls of the Plantation through his brother’s letters and phone calls.
For five years, with the exception of brief holiday visits home, Thomas called twice daily and sent pictures, and then videos, back to his brother. He was an honor student and played football and baseball remarkably well, for a boy who had not been exposed to the sports until school. He joined the debates and chess clubs… everything he thought Jeremy would like to experience… except girls. There were no girls at the boys’ academy, and Thomas avoided the twice yearly dances with the shuttled in maidens from the girls’ school five miles up the road, preferring to volunteer as school monitor to keep the hormone laden youths from wandering into areas of the campus that were off limits. Girls and sex would be something that he and Jeremy discovered together, personally.
The years had passed quickly, while Jeremy and Sarah read Thomas’ accounts of his experiences in the world. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Kinsey left to his graduation, and there was a huge party planned for Thomas the next week at the Plantation. The fact that Jeremy had not only passed High School, but had progressed through almost two years of College, was not mentioned. After all, he had the opportunity to be individually instructed by tutors at home, and his college studies were done over the Internet.
The event was to be as flamboyantly impressive as any debutante’s cotillion, and Amelia looked forward to the compliments she would receive on her strapping, handsome son. To keep her peers from being distracted, or gossiping about her less than perfect issue, she devised a devious plan to keep Jeremy from attending the party. Two days before the event, she invited the widow Marsha to see the boys’ playroom, now filled with stereos, computers and exercise equipment… which only reminded Amelia more of Jeremy’s weakness. Marsha was suffering from her predictable, yearly, summer cold, and at Amelia’s suggestion, and before Thomas could make it across the room to stop her, the fat, conspiring matron made a huge production of hugging Jeremy and kissing him on the cheek. He had a fever by dinnertime, and spent the next week in bed, with Sarah keeping him filled with fluids and mopping his brow.
The morning after the party, Widow Marsha was found by her housekeeper, her flabby form twisted and broken on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. There were quiet whispers about how much she had imbibed at the Kinsey’s gathering the evening before.
Several weeks later, Thomas was called to his father’s den, and he left the room an hour later, scowling. Mr. Kinsey had told Sarah earlier, that they planned to send Thomas to a University in Europe. He was relieved, though not completely surprised, when she offered to stay and keep Jeremy company. Obviously, the young man did not need a nanny… unless he was sick again… but without Sarah’s companionship the boy might want to rely more on his parents. Sarah watched the boys silently stare at each other for a long time, and when they gave their slight nod, she crossed herself, feeling like a co-conspirator in whatever plan they had devised.
In the middle of the night, Jeremy came to her, and he curled his thin frame beside her in the small bed like the boys used to do when they were young and thunderstorms were raging outside. He was wide-eyed and shaking, and she ran her fingers through his thin hair, stroking and comforting him, but she did not ask him what had frightened him so. When she awoke at dawn, he was gone.
The house was quiet, and Sarah spent a moment looking out onto the mists in the garden before slipping into the boys’ room and watching them sleep. Thomas lay beside Jeremy with the covers of his own bed undisturbed, and she glanced on the floor. Silently picking up Thomas’ muddy sneakers, she brought them to the bathroom and wiped off the dirt with tissue, flushed the evidence down the toilet, and walked back to the window to watch the sunrise over the trees.
Tragedy in Martinsville - Authorities confirmed Wednesday night, Thomas and Amelia Kinsey’s late model vehicle swerved into the river by the Helana Junction as they made their way home from the political benefit for Senator Howard. At this time, the Sheriff reports no foul play, and initial findings suggest Mr. Kinsey was swerving to avoid hitting something in the roadway, and lost control of the vehicle. They are survived by their sons, Thomas and Jeremy Kinsey of Martinsville. Kinsey Tribune - June 21, 1986
CHAPTER I
It began as an innocent caper, merely sneaking into her room on a dare to himself. His heart hammered in his chest as he crept up the stairs, the sound of his footsteps on the carpet magnified in his ears as he neared the top. He was sure she could hear him, but when he had watched her, he had seen her flip her long hair over her shoulder while she flirted with him, only to run away laughing. He knew her parents were out of town and she would be alone, sleeping in the canopy bed. Maybe she would wake up. No, he would be careful… and she would not flip that blonde ponytail for anyone else. Crucial Needs
After the funeral and the meeting with the lawyers, the boys decided to leave Mr. McFarland to run the newspaper, and the accountants to run the finances. Except for Sarah, all the household employees left for the evening. The cook, who stayed on until after dinner, was told she could now leave the food warming. They would serve themselves, and allow her to have supper with her family. After being assured her pay would remain the same, she was pleased with their generosity.
At first, there was a long line of nosy well-wishers… mothers trying to position themselves and their flirtatious spoiled daughters in front of the most eligible young gentlemen in town. Without Amelia to influence the decisions, they paraded their daughters shamelessly before the young men.
Thomas and Jeremy found it interesting, as neither had dated. They did not even appear upset when the young ladies invariably directed their attentions towards Thomas. It was the fifth girl, Jacquelyn Belmont, who smiled coyly at Thomas and flipped her wavy blonde tail over her shoulder while she winked and followed her mother to the car.
When no calls were made, and no dates requested… even from the odd boy… the mothers reluctantly gave up, gossiping about the strange men who now owned half the town and yet had no interest in its most beautiful offerings. There were whispers about them being gay and even suggestions that the boys had an incestuous relationship after people remembered their unusual upbringing. At least, the oak doors to the Kinsey Plantation remained closed.
The boys refurnished the master bedroom with an even larger four poster bed, and everything was decorated in black and burgundy. The bathroom was updated with a whirlpool tub and huge walk-in shower, all in black tile. The smaller room they had shared, which was large by normal standards, now housed elaborate computers and rows of bookshelves that were filling gradually with darker tales. Sarah watched silently as the boys she had raised disassembled the playroom until only the exercise equipment remained.
She was almost thirty-five, and due to her stressful life, a few gray strands were already threading their way through her mousy brown hair. Fine lines were beginning to show at the edges of her blue eyes, but her figure was still slender and strong. She had stopped leaving the house for her allotted vacations and days off a decade ago, and only made quick, necessary trips to town. Her world lay behind the security of the massive oak doors, far from the dilapidated shacks in Bridgeville that she feared still yearned to ensnare her in its impoverished, hopeless embrace, and still caring for the boys who had replaced the family she would never have.
They were men now… young, but with an eerie wisdom that she continued to find fascinating. An unexpected twinge of fearful jealousy had shot through her chest and low in her groin when the mothers began displaying their offspring. The young girls, so high bred and educated, classic beauties by birth… or by the help of a skillful surgeon… sashayed and giggled, twirled, or shamelessly seductively stretched, all to no avail.
Her boys ignored them, other than the interest they showed any new exotic creature… one they would read and study… and Thomas would bring home to Jeremy. Oh yes, Sarah recognized the silent looks and nods, and she wondered what her new role would be. She was afraid to ask the twins if their plans would exile her from the estate. At eighteen, the young men certainly were in no need of a nanny.
Sarah served dinner, and the three of them sat at one end of the massive, cherry wood dining table. “Would you like some wine? Technically, you’re not old enough, but one glass shouldn’t hurt, and I really think a cabernet would go well with this.”
“That sounds marvelous, Sarah.” Thomas smiled, and she felt almost giddy that he reserved that secret look for only her, and Jeremy.
Sarah walked to the sideboard, still floating on that magnificent smile, and she felt her panties dampen. Oh my god… no. She was shocked with her body’s reaction, and yet all she could see was Thomas’ flashing white teeth, glittering black eyes and dark wavy curls. She snuck a glance at Jeremy, and she knew she turned red when his calm gaze met hers with an equally pleased look, though much more gentle in appearance. Jeremy was as docile as Thomas was fierce, and standing at the sideboard, pouring deep red wine into three crystal glasses, Sarah realized her love for the boys, now young men, was changing into something that might be inappropriate.
“Sarah, do you need help with the wine?” Thomas asked.
“Nnno, I’ll be right there.” She was sure neither boy would miss the quiver in her voice, and for once she was regretting their ability to understand things that others missed. Sarah managed to place the wine on the table without shaking too badly or spilling it, but her mind kept wandering to the silk strip between her thighs that was now drenched.
They held up their wine for a toast, and Thomas stared at her crotch. “A wonderful bouquet, Sarah.” Her hand trembled while the boys reached out to barely touch her glass.
After dinner, Sarah collected the dishes and placed them in the sink. She remained staring at the wine glasses, trying to organize her thoughts. Finally turning around, she yelped in surprise when she saw the boys silently standing by the door, watching her.
“I’ll be going out in a while,” Thomas said. “Come to our room, and you can keep Jeremy company.”
The penetrating gaze in Thomas’ eyes was edged with an excitement she recognized from when they were boys. She knew better than to inquire about the nature of his plans, and only asked, “Will you be gone long?”
“No more than an hour. I won’t be leaving until one, though.”
It was only nine, and Sarah could not imagine what she and the boys would do for four hours. She felt her nipples tighten and a flush begin to spread, and she saw the knowing smile begin to cross the boys’ faces again. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. What am I supposed to do?
“Don’t you want to come to our room, Sarah?” Jeremy’s gentle voice coaxed.
“Of… of course, Jeremy. Just let me finish with the dishes.”
“Leave them,” Thomas ordered. “Dorothy will get them in the morning.”
Sarah pushed her arm behind her, and let the dishcloth fall back into the sink. Her rubbery legs propelled her towards them, and she was sure they could see her trembling by the time she stood in front of them. They each hooked an arm through hers, and the strangest sensation came over her. She felt calm, though undeniably aroused, while they led her upstairs.
When they reached the bedroom, Jeremy dimmed the lights while Thomas continued to guide her towards the bed. “We are Masters of the house now, Sarah.”
“Yes, Thomas, I know that.” The self-assured, domineering tone in the youth’s voice was both frightening and so arousing. She was aware of a pulsing in her channel, while Jeremy sat on her other side on the edge of the bed and gently held her hand.
“There are things I can never experience, Sarah, because I can’t leave the house,” Jeremy said softly. Something drew her to look into his intense brown eyes, the only feature that completely mirrored his brother’s. “They are the things you used to do for father.”
Sarah felt her whole being shrinking. She had hoped that over the years as the boys became older and she had been able to move the nightly visits into her room beside the nursery they would forget the three years they had witnessed her degradation. “Your father and I had… an arrangement… a condition of my employment,” she finished weakly. Even to her own ears, she sounded like a prostitute.
“We would very much like to continue that… arrangement,” Thomas replied. “It is obvious you have no inhibitions to such a request, and Jeremy and I want to learn about sex,” he bluntly announced. His hand rose to firmly hold her chin so she was staring into his penetrating gaze. “Will that be a problem?”
Sarah was silent for a long time, and she felt Jeremy gently stroking her hand while she thought about life away from the Plantation… away from the twins. Finally, she answered, “No, Thomas. That should not be a problem.”
His face broke out into the heart melting smile. “Good. Please stand and remove your clothes. It would be best to start at the beginning, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Thomas.” Sarah stood before them and slowly pushed off her shoes. She stared at her sweater as her fingers slipped the buttons, and lay it on the chair. The boys were quietly watching, with intense heat building in their stares as each layer was removed to reveal more female flesh. Sarah stalled when she was down to her panties and bra, and she looked at the twins for rescue. They merely nodded their heads, and she continued to strip and placed the garments with the other discarded clothes. She stood before them, with her hand covering her crotch and an arm wrapped over her breasts.
“Come lie on the bed, Sarah.”
“Yes, Thomas.” The boys stood to let her pass, and she lay down on top of the thick comforter. “Thomas, I’m not sure…”
“Quiet, Sarah,” Thomas interrupted. “We need to concentrate.”
Sarah closed her eyes, and she felt the mattress depress as the young men stretched out on either side of her. Without looking, she could tell Thomas lay on her right, Jeremy on her left, as the boys began their explorations, mirroring their actions with their own, individual tests.
Jeremy brushed his fingers down her cheek and across her trembling lips, while Thomas pushed harder into her skin and slipped a finger deep into her mouth. It was strange to have them searching her, Thomas on a deliberate quest, and Jeremy gently stroking her texture, calming her with his patience.
Next, they traveled down her throat, and she quivered as the hands worked their way up the swell of her breasts. Jeremy kneaded softly, rolling the taut flesh of her teat and running a fingertip across the little nubs on her puckered areola, while Thomas squeezed until he heard her gasp, and he pinched and stretched her bud. She could picture them staring at each other, silently communicating as their mouths descended on her nipples. While Jeremy suckled, stroking with his tongue, Thomas quickly began to nip until he held the tight rubbery protuberance between his teeth, stretching it until she hissed. Sarah was wetter and more aroused than she had ever been in her life.
The boys continued on from her breasts, each leaving one hand behind to continue massaging her mounds. Jeremy’s fingers trailed down her belly in conjunction with Thomas’ flattened palm, and they cupped then passed over a hip bone until they reached the true source of their interest. Hands gripped her thighs to separate her legs, and Sarah squeezed her eyes closed even tighter as she tried to control her passionate breaths. She knew they would see the slick evidence of her arousal, but she had made her decision to be a willing participant in their new game.
They each grasped a pouchy lip and opened her slowly, and she heard their joint intake of breath. Fingers tentatively reached out to brush the inside of her labia, memorizing the texture of its softness. Their actions became more deliberate as they traveled her wrinkled folds, spreading her cream. Together, two fingers entered her, pressing against each other and her pulsing core. She was wild with her clenching contractions, so close to release she was forcing herself to control her need.
“Sarah, where is your clit?” Thomas asked. “Show us.”
Her quivering hand traveled to her spread pussy, and she stroked a shaking finger over the top of her folds, pushing back her hood to expose the tight bead. The fingers continued their uniform thrusting, one slender and one thicker, she could feel the difference inside of her, and Sarah’s hand flew away and she gripped the sheets when a tongue tasted her bundle of nerves. It surprised her that Jeremy would be the one to go first, but he only licked a moment before relinquishing his position to his brother.
Thomas made long strokes with his tongue before nipping and stretching her clit in the same manner he had applied to her nipple. Sarah began to quiver, to tighten and expel more cream while her spasms and contractions intensified, until she flew into a climax that caused her to grip Thomas’ black curls and pull him deeper into her sex.
She shuddered for long moments before opening her eyes, and she looked into the smiling gazes staring down at her. “That was marvelous, Sarah. Thank you,” Jeremy praised.
Sarah lay mutely watching the boys as they stood to disrobe. How had she let this happen? And what kind of person was she, to want more? She had rarely felt the slightest of sexual twinges before, as Mr. Kinsey had been concerned only with his own pleasure. With her restrictive life behind the walls of the Plantation, her only experiences had been with their father… and hers. Pleasure had been rare, and always by her own hand.
She swiveled her head to watch each of them lie down, Jeremy with his delicate build, pale and soft with his gentleness, and Thomas with his bronzed muscles, firm and domineering with control. Yet, he would not take anything from Jeremy, though he could easily push him aside and look after his own desires. No, the twins did things in slightly skewed, parallel maneuvers, and Sarah knew it would always be this way.
“Sarah, use your mouth. Do Jeremy first,” Thomas instructed, and both boys watched her kneel between his thin thighs. She took the small organ in her mouth, gently suckling his shaft and caressing his sack until it quickly tightened and released a small issue onto her tongue. His hands quivered while he stroked her hair, and his release was accompanied by the sound of a soft, almost wailing, cry.
Sarah turned her focus to Thomas, proudly standing tall, a full nine inches of sexual arousal, jerking and demanding her attention. As she lowered onto his cock, he held her head and pushed a painful length between her lips, further and further until she felt an involuntary retch grip her stomach. Still, he held on, pushing… pushing… until he exploded with a roar that echoed off the walls of the expansive room. Even Sarah was shaking as a result of his orgasm, and she wiped a thread of white jism off her bottom lip as she sat up and looked into their ecstatic faces.
They lay for a few hours, stroking and exploring, until Thomas announced it was time for him to leave. “Sarah, you can keep your clothes and personal belongings in your room, but you will be sleeping here.”
“Yes, Thomas.” The thought thrilled her, securing her future, and any reluctance to the tryst she had previously harbored dissipated with the anticipation of nightly pleasure with the two men. Jeremy continued to caress and question, while Thomas picked up the black ski mask that matched his outfit, and left the room.
The advantage of living on the outskirts of town was that the century old family mansions were all miles apart, and had been built with numerous accessible entries that were necessary for both cooling before air conditioning, and as exits in case of fire.
Jacquelyn’s room was on the south side of the manor, and although her parents were in Europe, Thomas waited behind a tree to assure himself the servants were asleep. He made his way in the shadows along the side of the cabana by the pool, and he was relieved to find the French doors unlocked. He entered the atrium that had been added several years ago, allowing Mrs. Belmont to apply her green thumb during the colder months. Thomas’ sneakers were silent as he crossed the marble floor to the back staircase.
The servants had quarters in the basement, a full three floors below his destination. On her thirteenth birthday, Jacquelyn had pouted and whined her way into use of the turret as a bedroom. The stairs ran the length along the wall, and within minutes he was standing at the foot of her bed. The young woman, her coming out party only two weeks away to formerly introduce her into the small society that made up the elite of Martinsville, lay sprawled across the bed cover with a half empty bottle of vodka sitting on the nightstand.
Thomas relaxed considerably as he listened to her snore through her open mouth, drooling on the expensive silk bedcover. He walked to the side of the bed, lifted her waist-length flaxen tail, and removing the sheers from his pocket, he cut close to her scalp. She barely moved during the intrusion to her bedchamber, and as Thomas made his way back home, his eyes narrowed with the thought of her reaction in the morning.
He proudly held up the tail for his brother, while Sarah’s brows furrowed. Thomas turned to her, and as if his explanation would settle the matter, he said, “This will be our first trophy for our new room in the basement.”
Sarah thought of the uppity Belmont girl. Oh yes, she knew whom the hair belonged to… that snotty girl who had flirted so outrageously with her boys. Sarah looked up at Thomas, and smiled.
CHAPTER II
Dare he do it? he wondered. The girl had brushed her large tits directly against his shoulder, and when he turned to stare, she said haughtily, ‘Dream on, creep.’ She laughed at his humiliation while she skipped away, after working to get his attention. Yes, he could do it.
She lived in the apartment over her parents’ garage. He had watched her… studied her… and he knew she did not bother to lock the door. He climbed the stairs with agonizing slowness, stopping after every step on a creaking slat of wood. Still it remained dark above him, encouraging and insisting on his ascent.
He would have to be quick, and he had practiced with a mannequin bent in all the possible positions he might find her in. The soreness in his muscles had left him days ago after he had increased his exercise regime to make sure he was in top form. His size alone would disarm her, but he needed to get her silenced and secured quickly.
The man congratulated himself on his planning, and for remembering the small spray can of oil, and applying it to the old hinges before he reached for the knob. She lay on her stomach, her head turned to the side with her arms half raised. This would be easier than he had anticipated, and he quickly lowered onto her back, pinning her arms with his strong legs, and using both his hands to press her face into the pillow. Her legs flailed ineffectually at his back, and he leaned down hissing, “Be still and be quiet, or I’ll suffocate you.”
The girl immediately went limp and was silent, with the exception of a few hitching sobs. He fisted her hair and lifted her head slightly, preparing to drive her back into the pillow if she uttered a sound. His other hand shoved a foam ball into her mouth, and he felt it expand behind her lips. Rolling off one arm at a time, he gripped her wrists and secured them with a plastic tie, pulling until it left indentions in her pale skin.
He retrieved a blindfold and covered her eyes before he turned her over. She was shaking, and he saw the wet stain on her pajama bottoms where the arrogant girl’s bladder had let go. He yanked off the damp garment and her legs thrashed, but in her secured state he had no problem grabbing her ankles, spreading them and tying them to the foot railing. Her chest heaved with her sobs, and he stroked his erection. The scissors, the same shears he had used to collect his first trophy, made quick work of removing her top.
He spread her damp curls and stroked her folds, taking his time and finding her little bead of pleasure and forcing her passion. He wiped the expelled juices on her ruined top, and used the shears to remove the curls between her thighs. These he wrapped inside the shirt, stuck to her cream as she muffled her outraged sobs while he left the room. Crucial Needs
Sarah closed the book and laid it back on the nightstand. “I always love when you read to us, Sarah,” Jeremy sighed. His head was on her shoulder while his slender fingers toyed with a nipple. He raised his head and met her eyes. “You know just where to inflect your voice for meaning.”
Sarah thought back to when they were five, as far back as ‘Timothy Turtle’, and with this book, this twisted tale of desire, she naturally understood the boys’ new game… and she desperately wanted to read to the end. The flaxen ponytail had been hanging in the locked basement, a room being secretly added to with the strangest of devices and equipment, for two weeks.
She joined the boys in their exercise regime, and even Jeremy had managed to build up some muscle tone. Thomas was positively gorgeous, and she loved to massage oils and lotions on their bodies after they showered. She finally tested a question. “Thomas, how will Jeremy share this experience?”
Thomas grinned and walked over to the new cabinet housing accessories that made Sarah’s knees quiver and her juices flow. He returned with a small camera. “It has night vision, and it releases a small amount of light that exposes the picture more clearly when it is viewed. The microphone picks up the faintest of sounds. Jeremy and I watched us together two nights ago, and Sarah, we could even here your softest pants while you came.”
Sarah turned beet red, and yet, when Thomas asked her if she wanted to watch it, she could not help saying yes. The three of them together, twisted into sexual coupling and sweating in passion, aroused her to a frenzy shared by the boys. Before it had ended, they reenacted the entire filming through another passionate encounter.
Thomas spent a few days arranging Sarah in every conceivable sleeping posture they could come up with. It was interesting to watch him play the role of director, and Jeremy chimed in by having her lie on her stomach, with an arm and leg hanging off the bed. It was perhaps a good thing, because Sarah managed to easily shriek, and almost battled her way to the door. They gave Sarah earplugs, and instructed her to close her eyes. She lay slightly quivering, anticipating Thomas’ attack. After a few more tussles, they discovered that Thomas would need to immediately drive her head into the pillow, causing her to quickly react by trying to push up and free herself rather than to attack or escape.
Sarah searched her memory for houses with garage apartments, but it had been so long since she had paid attention to anything outside of the Plantation that she could not think of a likely target. Her mind wound through the actions of the debutants when they had been presented, and she realized than any one of the girls could be a target, with their seductive moves… or none of them. Her excitement heightened and she wanted to ask Thomas, but she knew this was part of the game.
On some days, Thomas left for half day journeys to purchase things for the dungeon… for that was what the locked playroom had become… or picking up things from an anonymous post office box. While they exercised in the basement, Sarah would look at the erotic furnishings across the room and her crotch would dampen while she considered their use. Thomas had already explained they were preparing for future games, but he assured her he would test every device with her first.
They were in the bedroom and still damp from showering, and Sarah was trimming Jeremy’s thin curls. She glanced at Thomas who was staring at her thighs, and her muscles cramped in anticipation.
“Sarah, can I shave your pussy?”
“Of course, Thomas. Though, if you decide you like it that way, a depilatory would be longer lasting. Perhaps you could pick something up the next time you take one of your trips,” Sarah suggested.
Jeremy clapped excitedly at the denuded lips, reaching out and stroking the hanging flesh. “It’s perfect… perfect, Sarah. So welcoming and fresh.”
Sarah blushed with profuse pleasure. Her boys always made her feel so pretty and desirable. “Thank you, Jeremy.”
She could tell Thomas was close to executing his plan when his eyes began to fill with a constant dark heat and his sexual lust had become a frenetic, pounding affair. After one encounter, Sarah felt bruised, and it only deepened her attraction and love for him.
After oral pleasure one evening, Thomas announced he would be going out, and Jeremy and Sarah smiled broadly, encouraging him on his task. He stood from stroking the breast his brother was not attending, and dressed in his dark clothes.
“Thomas, are you sure you have everything?”
“Yes, Sarah.”
“Please be careful, Thomas, and remember to grab her head, first.”
Thomas glared at her, and Sarah shrank back against Jeremy, scrambling to think what she had said wrong. There was no reprieve from Jeremy either, as he said in an uncharacteristically cold voice, “Do not presume to tell your Master what do to, Sarah.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas. Oh, Jeremy, I’m so sorry.” There was a satisfying pleading in her voice.
“I think, perhaps, you should refer to us, as Master Thomas and Master Jeremy, to remind you of your place,” Thomas decided.
“Yes, Thomas… um, Master Thomas.” Sarah’s mind was in torment at having displeased them.
“You will be punished if you forget, Sarah,” he warned.
“Yes, Master Thomas,” she said in relief. They would forgive her… her boys would forgive her, and all would be well.
The boys held one of their silent communicating gazes, nodded, and after Thomas left, Jeremy resumed stroking her breast and asked casually, “Sarah, what do you have outside of the walls of the Plantation?”
Sarah gasped. She had just begun to feel comfortable after her mistake, and now Jeremy was sending her away. Was that their decision? In a small voice she answered, “Nothing… nothing, Master Jeremy.”
“Just as I have nothing in that world, Sarah, remember that. We both live through Thomas’ escapades.”
“Yes, Master Jeremy, I’ll remember,” and she felt a physical, palpable relief wash through her.
Thomas drove almost five miles and parked the small sports car on a dirt road leading into the woods and down to the river. He cut through the trees until he exited at the side yard to the McFarland’s home. The competent man continued to run the newspaper, and even with advancement of the Internet and twenty-four hour news, the subscriptions stayed at a healthy level. To read local gossip in print could not be duplicated… other than the video that had surfaced of Jacquelyn Belmont trying on wigs.
After their parents’ funeral, with the wake held in the house for Jeremy‘s benefit… although he still managed to catch the usual cold he got whenever outsiders entered the house… Thomas made a trip downtown to investigate their new businesses. His goal was to see to it that competent managers were in place and that they would require limited input from the new owners. He and Jeremy did not share their father’s interest in hands-on involvement.
When he entered the Kinsey Tribune offices, he found Mr. McFarland nervously going through reports on his desk and awaiting his new employers’ decision on the fate of the newspaper. Thomas was intimidating… dashingly handsome in a mysterious, dark way that was completely unsettling, though his daughter did not seem to mind.
Shawny was interning this summer before she traveled back to college, and even the old editor recognized the interest in her eyes. Thomas glanced at the mini-skirted girl serving them colas, watching as she managed to lean over so far in an attempt to distract him that more of her breasts and thighs were visible than covered. Thomas merely filed her actions away for future consideration, though before he left, he learned that until she returned to school she was staying in the carriage house on the back of the property.
She was having sex with the gardener, the cook’s husband, but the meetings were brief because he had to return to his own rooms and shower before his wife returned from finishing the dinner dishes. Shawny McFarland had not told him to lock the door when he left, and on two separate occasions Thomas waited until the man crept back to the main house and the carriage house lights were turned off, and tested the door to assure himself of the pattern.
The gardener had been gone for several hours by now, and Thomas stalked quietly up the stone path. The carriage house was more than one hundred feet from the back wall of the main house, and he was sure that nothing lower than a high pitched scream would breach the distant brick walls.
She was lying on her back, under the blankets… which was a relief as it would take her legs out of play. Still, Thomas licked his lips nervously, instantly regretting the action as he plucked several strands of the wool from the ski mask off his tongue. He glanced around the dim room and noticed a window seat with several fluffy bolsters, and although he had practiced twisting a girl’s head from the position she was in, he opted to quickly seal her lips with one of the loose cushions, after placing the camcorder on the dresser beside the bed.
He rapidly straddled her hips, plunging the pillow onto her face, and she raked his arms with her nails. In the morning, the black acrylic threads of the discount store sweatshirt, a brand bought by thousands, would be the only evidence of her attacker. Still, her actions pissed him off, and he growled, “Put your hands by your sides, or I’ll suffocate you before I leave here.”
She trembled as she dropped her arms, and he heard her wailing beneath the pillow until he pushed the foam gag into her mouth. He released the cushion to grab her arms, and it remained covering her face while he worked on hooking her wrists to the headboard. He reached under the pillow to blindfold her before tossing it to the floor, and then he stripped off her panties and used the scissors to slice through her top.
She had washed her groomed mound after her earlier affair, and there was a faint scent of strawberry clinging to her pussy as he spread the small lips. Her labia lay almost flat against her juncture, with none of the arousing fleshy fat Sarah had, and he found this mildly disappointing. Still, he worked the dampening folds until she squeezed her silent orgasm, and he wiped it with her shirt, trimming the minuscule hairs he could scrape with the sheers before grabbing the camera and hissing, “What a waste of time, you turned out to be.”
He knew she would never humiliate herself by repeating his insult, but the words would leave her scarred with uncertainty for many years. She would struggle to assure her fragile, vain psyche of her superiority, only to achieve the desired high with the drugs that would eventually destroy her.
Thomas was disgusted as he carefully made his way back to the car, taking a path that wound far in the opposite direction, before ending in the river rock that enabled him to turn back towards his vehicle. He tossed the camera, along with his mask, the shears, and the plastic bag holding the trophy, onto the passenger seat, and laid his head against the steering wheel. What a fucking waste of time. He banged his head softly on the hard leather surface. The unfairness shamed him, to be returning to Jeremy with this minimally arousing evidence. Jeremy depended on him… trusted him to be his eyes and other senses, in the world outside the walls. He started the car, and slowly drove home.
The couple on the bed immediately noticed Thomas’ lack of arousal, and the glittering pleased look of an exciting adventure was missing from his face. “What happened, Thomas? Couldn’t you get to her?” Jeremy asked.
Thomas tossed the bag on the bed, as proof he had completed his task. Without a word he inserted the tape into the player, and the trio silently watched Shawny McFarland’s degrading performance. Sarah spoke first. “She’ll be damaged from this. Master Thomas, with her quiet, reluctant climax, the fact that she had debased herself at all for a stranger, will leave permanent scarring.”
Thomas looked up hopefully. “How can you be so sure?”
“Look at me, Master Thomas. I am this way because of my stepfather, a man who humiliated me since I was thirteen. I can’t move from the safety of this house, from your father… from you. She is damaged, Master Thomas.” After she finished, Sarah should have cringed at the satisfaction that crossed over their faces, but she knew it was due to Shawny’s impending downfall, because the boys had already forgotten her confession.
There was no mention of the incident ever printed in the paper, or any other source the boys could investigate. Thomas waited a few days before visiting the newspaper offices and he learned that Mr. McFarland was on a short leave, and spending a week with his daughter before accompanying her back to college. She was giving up her private, off-campus apartment in favor of finally moving in with a roommate at the sorority house that was her mother’s alma mater.
The book, ‘Crucial Needs’, was set aside for a few years to collect dust, and the boys interests switched to new reading fare.
CHAPTER III
The ceremony was an event, an initiation into the spiraling world of compliance, as the Slave began training in total subjugation of her new life. The Master ran his finger over the leather, caressing the smooth black surface in awe of its power and meaning. It amused him to think that the collar was perhaps more important than the quivering girl kneeling before him.