This will be the first story by me in a collection of short stories about crime and punishment in the United States. This story, and the others, will be posted at webook.com under the project title "American Justice." While these stories will all be strictly fictional, the reader is free to draw his own conclusions about what truth might be contained in any given story. I believe the outcome of many criminal trials in the U.S. makes an oxymoron of the term "American Justice." This is primarily because lawyers serve a client rather than specifically serving truth and justice, and judges keep actual reasoning out of the courtroom. Law without reasoning often results in injustice. My crime stories ARE NOT SUITABLE for children. "Legacy of Shame" includes a graphic description of the violent beating of a woman, and other adult material of a sexual nature.

* SPECIAL NOTE: In August 2008, I submitted this story for posting at the website Literotica.com Rather than posting my story, the people at Literotica chose to sell the story. They did not sell it as my agent or anything. They ignored my copyright and sold the story as if they had a right to it. It is the most blatant example of copyright infringement I know of! I used to basically respect the people at Literotica ... but no more. The names Fern - Asplasia - Manu (and their complete real names) are written on the wall of shame right beside the name of the man in this story.

RLMSJim

LEGACY OF SHAME

Part I: A Savage and Despicable Man

Ever since he had seen his ex-wife that terrible last time, his performance in bed had been less than spectacular. In fact, he often couldn't even maintain an erection long enough to complete intercourse. His doctor had told him his problem was psychological, and if he could ever completely put his ex-wife out of his mind, the problem would most likely disappear. He did have reason to hope this would be one of his better nights. The new girl he had picked up at the clubhouse was very young and very beautiful. He had taken her to a party, where they had fun dancing and flirting with each other. Best of all, she seemed to be really horny tonight, and she was doing her best to turn him on.

After the party, they had gone to her apartment for drinks. They were sitting close together in the middle of her large couch. She suddenly put her drink down and stood up, stretching her arms over her head and sticking her chest out. She was wearing a very short, body-hugging red sheath dress. As she stood there with her arms stretched up over her head, the hem of her dress was pulled high up her thighs, so high that her panties were nearly exposed to his view. She was pushing her breasts out so hard that her erect nipples were clearly visible, even through the lacy black bra she was wearing. Her long, shapely legs were covered, but not concealed, by sheer black stockings.

"Ahhhhh!" she sighed. "That feels nice. I really had fun at the party. But it's good to be home, where we can relax and really enjoy each other's company." She held her pose for several seconds, then reached down and picked up a remote. "I think I'll put on some soft dance music. Okay?"

His expression suddenly darkened. With unexpected anger in his voice, he replied "What's the point? We already did that! I'm not interested in dancing any more!"

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean you should dance any more with me. You just sit there and relax. Make yourself comfortable. I know you like your imported shoes. I like them too, but wouldn't you be more comfortable if you slipped them off? And you could slip off your coat and tie. In fact (the hint of a mischievous smile appeared at the corners of her beautiful lips) there's no need to keep wearing ... ANY thing ... really." She blushed briefly at the sheer naughtiness of her suggestion. She was not usually as forward as this, but tonight she was feeling especially sexually adventurous.

Her explanation seemed to calm him down, so she pushed a couple of buttons on the remote and her CD player started softly playing some slow, sensual dance music. She walked to the front of the CD player and leaned against it. Then she closed her eyes, put her head back, and pulled a pin from her hair. Her golden tresses tumbled down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. She sat down, facing toward him, on a large chair that was beside the CD player. She pulled her knees up and rocked back in the chair, thrusting her crotch forward, and placed her heels on the front edge of the chair cushion. He gasped as her black silk bikini panties came into view. She wore a matching garter belt to hold up her stockings. She smiled at him as he openly stared up her dress. He licked his lips as he thought of the sweetness that was now concealed by so very little. She unfastened the clips holding the tops of her stockings and slowly rolled the stockings down her legs. She dropped the stockings on the floor and stood up in front of the couch.

She was feeling the low, throbbing music deeply now, and she started to sway gracefully back and forth to the beat. She danced sensually for several minutes, her movements gradually becoming more and more exaggerated. Her sheath dress clung to her body, showing off her perfect curves. She moved her hands up and down, caressing herself through the dress. Her dance was having the intended effect on them both. Whenever she brushed a hand over one of her erect nipples, it felt like little electric sparks shot through the whole breast. He was as excited as he had ever recently been. He stared open-mouthed as he watched her dance and caress herself. Suddenly, she stopped dancing. She leaned slightly forward, toward him, pulled her dress up in the back, and reached under it with both hands. She quickly slid her panties down her legs and pulled them off.

"Oh, my goddd!" he groaned when her panties hit the floor and he detected the faint, sweet odor of her excitement. They were both panting a bit as she resumed her dancing and he resumed his staring. Gradually, keeping with the music, her movements became frantic. Her long blonde hair was flying and her dress was pulled high.

The music reached an intense climax and then stopped completely. She dropped to one knee when the music stopped. She was panting for breath, trying to recover from her exertion. After a few moments of rest, she stood up and looked at him with lust-filled eyes. She slipped the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders. It was too tight to fall on its own, but with a couple of gentle tugs on each side, it slipped down her body and fell to the floor. He gasped and swallowed hard as she revealed her body to him. She was now wearing only a lacy black bra and her matching garter belt. For a moment, he just stared at her, realizing how very lucky he was she had chosen to take him to her apartment for sex.

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it wide open. Since in his youth he had been a professional athlete, she was a little surprised to see he had "love handles" and a middle age paunch. But that didn't bother her. In fact, she felt a little relieved he was not the super-male he had sometimes been made out to be. She peeled the shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Meeting his lust-filled gaze with her own, she opened his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, then she put her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down his legs. For a few moments, with him wearing only his socks and with her wearing only her bra and garter belt, they simply looked at each other. An observer would have been struck by the contrasts between them. She, with her pale skin and youthful beauty, her body pouring out sweet honey in anticipation of passionate, exuberant sex. He, with his dark skin and middle age sags, his manhood little more than half hard, just hoping he would be able to take advantage of this young woman's willingness to have sex with him.

"Let's go to bed," he whispered hopefully.

"No, honey," she replied as she removed her bra and garter belt. "Let's just use the couch instead."

He shuddered as a haunting memory of his ex-wife suddenly filled his mind. She smiled, thinking his shudder was just a sign of his passion. She laid down on the couch on her back, and he laid down over her. He licked at her breasts a little, but he didn't seem to be very enthusiastic about it. His actions were seemingly mechanical, almost cold. She started to rapidly lose her own sexual heat and to think maybe it had just been a mistake to bring him back to her apartment. She decided it might be best to just let him finish as soon as possible and write it off as one of those disappointing nights.

She reached down between their bodies and grasped his sort-of-stiff organ. "Too bad," she thought sadly. "Even this doesn't match the myth. It's quite a bit smaller than the white ones I've seen." She barely felt it when he pushed it into her. He didn't seem to notice that she had lost her enthusiasm. He began to pump his hips back and forth. Soon, he clenched his teeth and came. Well, sort of came. He didn't really ejaculate. A few drops of semen simply leaked out.

With his eyes tightly closed, he whispered "Oh, Nicole ... Nicole. I knew you'd let me fuck you again one day."

She kissed his cheek and hugged him gently, then whispered back "Sorry, honey, I'm not Nicole. But I hope I'll do."

He jerked upright, sitting across her waist. He was suddenly filled with an unexpected rage. "Smart assed slut!" he screamed. "Damn right you're not Nicole!" Then he slapped her hard. He started to beat her savagely, alternately slapping and punching. At first, she couldn't even try to defend herself from his blows, but finally she raised her arms and tried to shield her face. It did no good. He simply punched through her defenses, or punched lower, landing a very hard blow to her throat. Her whole face was red and swelling rapidly. Her left eye was blood red, and the skin around it was turning a dark purple. He slapped her left cheek again, and his ring cut a deep gash into her flesh. Her blood spurted out across her chest and onto the couch.

He stopped beating her for a moment when he saw her blood, but he was still sitting on top of her and glaring angrily at her. She was too stunned to even cry. In a dry, emotionless whisper, she said "Oh, my god ... you really did it... Her poor children." Her comment set him off again. He slapped her and punched her repeatedly.

"Why ... why?" she groaned between his blows.

He didn't offer an answer. Maybe he was too dumb to really know why himself. His first slap was basically just an angry reflex. But he was beating her now simply because he enjoyed doing it. He liked it now even more than he had liked beating Nicole. He enjoyed the feel of his fist smashing hard into the soft flesh on a woman's face. He enjoyed hearing the *smack* and the *crunch* as his blows landed. Most of all, though, he enjoyed the painful groans and pleas for mercy. They made him feel like he had power over another person. And he always hoped there would be blood. He never quite felt finished until there was blood.

Her upper lip was suddenly split wide open and more of her blood spurted out. The sight of more blood seemed to satisfy some savage need in him, and he stopped beating her again. She was quietly sobbing now and pleading with him not to kill her too.

Panting slightly, he finally spoke. "Listen, bitch," he said in a low, menacing voice. "You chose to bring me here to fuck me. I didn't make you do that, you did it on your own. But now that you've done it, I fucking own you. From now on, you will always make yourself available to me. You will keep yourself fit and attractive for me. You will wear clothes, and use makeup, only as I tell you to." She couldn't believe the crap he was saying. But she didn't dare object to any of it. "You will fuck me whenever, and wherever, I say. The only other men you will fuck are the ones that I tell you to fuck." He paused for a moment and then went on "I'll tell you the rest of it later. You know of course you won't be able to get any help from the cops. The L.A.P.D. got a lesson they all know about. Cops just leave me alone now."

He stood and looked down at her. "I'm going to clean myself up and go out for a while. After I've gone, you get cleaned up and get yourself ready for sex again. And get rid of this couch before I come back." He started to walk away, but then paused. He saw that blood was still flowing from both her cheek and her lip, and both her eyes were already swollen nearly shut. "Think you're bleeding now, bitch?" he asked cruelly. "I could tell you about some ... real bleeding ..." Then he turned and went into her bathroom.

As she heard him washing and dressing himself, she sobbed bitterly. She thought "What have I done to deserve this? How did I get into this mess, anyway? What about some justice for me ... and for poor Nicole?" Even though clotting had started to slow the flow of blood, it still oozed from the wounds on her cheek and lip. Her swollen face hurt like hell, and she could barely see. How was she supposed to clean up and get ready for more of this? For more of him? Then she heard the door close as he left. For a moment, she felt glad.

Part II: Sins of the Father

A few months later, the man was with yet another young woman. As their second date was winding down, she decided to take him back to her apartment for drinks and sex. They were sitting close together in the middle of her large sofa. She leaned against him and laid her head down on his shoulder. "I've really been having fun tonight, honey," she told him. "I hope you've been having a good time too."

"Yeah," he answered, "I guess I've been having fun too." They kissed deeply, then he added "I know it's almost 3:00 now, but it seems like kind of a shame to just let our fun come to an end."

She smiled and replied "Well, maybe we don't really have to just let it end quite yet. For starters, why don't you slip off your imported shoes and make yourself more comfortable?" As he leaned down to pull off his shoes, she reached back and pulled down the zipper of her red cocktail dress. She slipped the thin straps off her shoulders and quickly pulled her arms through the straps. In the time it took him to bare his feet, she was naked from the waist up.

For a moment he just sat there and stared at her breasts. He was a little surprised at the way she had suddenly bared them to him. After all, she was very young (no more than about 24, he thought) and her youthful beauty projected an image of innocence. He had expected she would want to go slow with sex, if at all. But he was still for only a moment. He reached out with both hands and squeezed her breasts. He leaned down and started sucking on her left nipple.

"Ohhhh, yesss!" she sighed. "Come on, baby, suck them good! Show me how much you want me!" she told him. They kissed and groped each other for several minutes. They were both getting pretty hot. She stood up, letting her dress fall to the floor. She stepped out of it and, with a laugh, kicked it across the living room. Except for her lacy panties, she stood naked before him. She smiled at his glassy-eyed stare and turned slowly around in a full circle, enjoying the effect her body was having on him. He stood up beside her. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then opened his belt and slowly slid his pants down his legs.

"The bedroom," he groaned. She took him by the hand and led the way.

THE FEMALE WATCHER HAD TAKEN A POSITION IN A SMALL PATCH OF WOODS DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE WOMAN'S APARTMENT. USING HER SPECIAL LIGHT-FILTERING SURVEILLANCE BINOCULARS, SHE HAD SEEN EVERYTHING THEY HAD DONE IN THE WOMAN'S LIVING ROOM. "Justin," she whispered into her cell phone. ("Yeah," came the hushed reply from the male watcher.) "It's almost time to end it. She's stripped down to just her panties, and he's down to just his boxers. They're heading toward her bedroom now." (After a moment, the male watcher replied "Okay, I see them just coming in now. I've got 'em. Out.")

When the male watcher saw them coming into the woman's bedroom on the other side of her apartment, the man was already naked, having left his boxers back in the hallway. The woman laid down on her bed on her back and held out her arms to him. He knelt down on the bed and put his fingers into the waistband of her panties. She lifted up a bit, and he slid the panties down her beautiful legs. He got onto his knees between her legs and moved forward. "Okay, bitch," he told her. "It's time for me to fuck your brains out!"

THIS WAS THE MOMENT THE MALE WATCHER HAD BEEN WAITING FOR. HE AIMED HIGH SO THERE WOULD BE NO CHANCE THAT EITHER OF THEM WOULD ACTUALLY BE HIT BY ANY OF THE BULLETS. HE FIRED THREE QUICK SHOTS THROUGH HER BEDROOM WINDOW, THEN IMMEDIATELY PRESSED THE BUTTON TO SET OFF THE AIR HORN, WHICH HE TOSSED DIRECTLY UNDER HER WINDOW. HE LEFT QUICKLY, KNOWING THE COMBINED NOISE OF THE THREE RIFLE SHOTS AND THE BLARING AIR HORN WOULD SOON BRING THE POLICE, EVEN AT 3 AM.

"SHIT!" the man screamed moments after the bullets shattered the window. As the blare of the air horn began, and bits of broken glass from the shattered window started to rain down around them, he sprang to his feet beside the bed. "FUCK! This time I'll KILL him!" he screamed, instantly enraged.

For a moment, the woman was too startled to react at all. But as her ears were assaulted by the air horn, and as she sat upright and saw the broken glass covering her bed, she started to scream.

"Shut up, bitch!" the man yelled, suddenly turning his rage toward her. He slapped her hard, knocking her back down on her bed. "You're not hurt, bitch, so just SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He raised his closed fist as if to strike her again. But then, he abruptly turned and ran into her living room, cursing loudly as he ran. As he pulled on his pants, she heard him promise in a cold, terrifying voice "This time I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch!"

She was stunned. She raised trembling hands to her face in shock and disbelief. Then she heard her front door open and close as the man rushed out into the darkness. Her body shook with deep spasms, and she began sobbing hysterically.

***

Other than the air horn outside the woman's bedroom window and the three shell casings from the male watcher's rifle, the police found no trace the watchers had been outside her apartment at all. That didn't surprise him, though. The police hadn't been able to find anything more than that any of the other times either. This wasn't the first time the man had been victimized with coitus interruptus. The watchers had been stalking him for nearly two months. This was the fourth time they had prevented him from getting off inside a young woman's body. The watchers were really cutting into his already-dwindling sex life. His understandable anger at being stalked had grown into a dark, terrifying rage. He decided he would make special arrangements so the next time the stalker wouldn't be able to just get away from him.

***

Two weeks later, he was again with a different young woman in her apartment, and the sexual foreplay was being repeated. This time, the male watcher was stationed across from the woman's living room. He watched as they stripped each other down to their underwear.

"Here they come, Sis!" THE WATCHER WHISPERED INTO HIS CELL PHONE AS THE WOMAN LED THE MAN INTO THE DARK HALLWAY TOWARD HER BEDROOM.

"Okay, I'll take them now," THE FEMALE WATCHER REPLIED. THEN, AFTER A MOMENT SHE ADDED "Damn! They're not turning on any of the lights. I'll have to switch over to the night viewers." AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, SHE REPORTED "Okay, I do see them coming into her bedroom now. I really wish they'd turn on some kind of light, though. Seeing only their silhouettes this way, I'll pretty much have to just guess about when to shoot." SHE WATCHED WITH REVULSION AS THE MALE SILHOUETTE LOWERED ITSELF ONTO THE BED AND PRESSED HIS FACE INTO THE CROTCH OF THE FEMALE SILHOUETTE. AFTER A FEW MOMENTS, SHE HEARD TWO QUICK FOOTSTEPS BEHIND HER AND JUST STARTED TO TURN AROUND WHEN A VERY HARD BLOW STRUCK THE SIDE OF HER FACE. THE BLOW KNOCKED HER UNCONSCIOUS, AND SHE IMMEDIATELY FELL, FACE DOWN, ONTO THE GRASS.

The man felt grim elation when the female watcher fell unconscious at his feet. He had planned well to set the watchers up. He paid the woman to "perform" with him in her living room, with the lights on, knowing the watcher would be there to see. And he paid a man whose size and build were similar to his own to wait, unseen, in the hallway, then to go in his place with the woman into her darkened bedroom. He had been able to slip out of the hallway, and out of the woman's apartment, unnoticed by the watchers. It had been pretty easy to sneak up on the female watcher. Now, she lay unconscious at his feet, completely at his mercy. He had previously shown he had no mercy. He could certainly kill now with no second thoughts.

He raised his katana high over head to deliver the fatal blow. But then, he decided to wait. He would look at the son-of-a-bitch before killing him. Besides, it would be better to kill the watcher while he was conscious and knew he was about to die. The man wanted to enjoy the watcher's terror just before he killed him. He put his foot under the watcher's shoulder and rolled her over onto her back. He leaned down low over her and started to pull off the ski mask she was wearing to look at his tormenter's face.

Suddenly, his cold blood ran even colder. "SYDNEY?" he gasped. "My god, Sydney, is that you?" He felt a brief, sharp pain on the back of his head as the male watcher struck. Now, it was his turn. He fell unconscious himself, across the unconscious form of his daughter.

When the man came to, he was sitting up, securely tied to a large post in a dimly lit warehouse. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but he could make out a few stacks of large packing crates, and a forklift off to one side. Other than that, the warehouse seemed to be empty. He vaguely noticed the rumbling of a distant, approaching thunderstorm. He felt alone and afraid, and confused about how he had gotten into his current predicament. He briefly pulled hard against the ropes that held him, testing them, but he couldn't break free. Discouraged, he was just sitting quietly, trying to clear the painful buzzing that seemed to fill his mind. He couldn't remember what had been happening just before he lost consciousness ... then he heard hushed voices coming from about twenty feet in front of him. It seemed to be a man and a woman. He suddenly shivered as a cold chill ran up his spine. It didn't seem possible, but somehow the voices started to sound familiar.

He gasped in recognition as he saw a dimly lit male figure emerge from behind a large packing crate. It was his son. "Justin! Justin, I'm over here!" he called. A female figure joined the male figure. "Sydney! Justin! Thank god it's you!" He suddenly felt surging hope, believing his son and daughter had come to rescue him from whoever had been stalking him and tied him up this way. "Come untie me and let's get the fuck out of here!" he called to them.

There was a brief silence as Justin walked up close to his father, where he could be seen clearly even in the dim light of the warehouse. "But, Dad," he said, "since we're the ones who tied you there in the first place, why would we want to let you go now?"

"Wha ... what do you mean?" the man stammered. "Wh ... why would you do that?"

Sydney walked up beside her brother and they both squatted down in front of their father. "Daddy," she said, "I'm afraid we've both hated you for years. In fact, ever since we really knew you were the monster who butchered Mom."

"Afraid so," agreed Justin. "And we really hated watching you chasing around after every starry-eyed, foolish young woman you thought you could get your dick into. Shit! You started fucking around even before mom's blood dried on your socks! We started watching you a few weeks ago, hoping we could save at least a few of them from you. Most of them probably have no idea what a horror it would be to be knocked up by you ..."

"Justin! That's enough!" he shouted. "That's enough." He softened a bit. "Sydney. Justin. You can't really believe I killed your mother. I loved Nicole. I could never have hurt her ... and I never did hurt her."

Sydney looked at her father with obvious contempt. "Justy, can you do anything to keep this monster from lying any more? I am so sick of his lying ... his constant, pathetic lying."

Justin forced a thick rag into his father's mouth, then tied a long strip of rag around his head to keep the gag in place. "See, Sis? I told you he's not man enough to accept responsibility for what he did to mom. Shit! Besides, he's so fucking dumb, he actually thinks what he did was her fault!"

Sydney looked down at her father for the last time. "You know, Daddy, maybe there is a bit of ironic humor in this. You obviously always hated the name your parents gave you, and when I was very young, I hated the name you and Mom gave me. But, it's being the daughter of a monster ... having the name we both have ... that I can't stand now. Funny, huh?" Sadly, with tears quickly filling her eyes, she turned away. She walked, with her brother, back behind the large packing crate.

The man couldn't see his son and daughter anymore, but by listening carefully, he could hear most of what they said to each other. Occasionally, thunder in the approaching storm blocked out part of their conversation.

"Justy," she said, "it's already almost 4 AM. We have to finish soon. I love you, bro'." They hugged each other, then sat down on the thick quilts Justin had placed on the floor. "Justy, I want us to remember the good times with Mom now ... how much she loved us and cared for us. While they were still married ... and ... and he used to beat the shit out of her ... " She broke down in tears, unable to continue her thought.

"I know, Sis," Justin replied. "She used to cover up for him. She wanted their marriage to work, and for us to succeed as a family. She wanted us to keep loving and respecting him. But there was one time ... mom never knew ... but I saw her spitting up blood into the toilet. I was too young to understand at the time. He must have really kicked the hell out of her the night before ... " Unable to continue, he added his own tears to those of his sister.

"You see, Justy?" she asked angrily through her tears. "You see how he has ruined even our memories of Mom? Every time we try to think of her, the hell he put her through gets in the way! She clearly had no chance at a happy life as long as she was married to him. Why couldn't he just let her try to make a happy life for herself, and for us, apart from him?"

"He never loved her, Sis. He just enjoyed possessing her ... and dominating her. I guess some men are just not really able to care about, and love, a woman. They're too busy loving themselves. But I think if we concentrate hard ... and keep him totally out of our thoughts ... we can remember the happy times with Mom. Like the time she took us to Disneyland when he was away on a trip."

"You're right, Justy," she smiled. "That was a great time for us, and it is a wonderful memory now." They talked for several more minutes, always trying to focus their thoughts on their mother alone. "Thank you, Justy, for helping me to think of those special times with Mom. I love you. Those were good memories. But we don't have much time. We have to finish the rest of it now ..."

"NO!" Justin protested as he pulled away from her hug. "NO! Sis, I can't do it! You DON'T have to die. Don't ask this of me!"

She put her fingertips over his lips. "Shhhh!" she told him. "We've been talking about this for a very long time. You know Mom's death hurt me terribly. And knowing the needless, horrible way she died ... and that he did it ... makes my life a living hell. Sometimes I even think I might have been able to do something to keep him from doing what he did ... Don't wimp out on me, bro'. Pleeease. At least help me to escape from the terrible hurting. Maybe you and I might even be able to be with Mom again."

He was sobbing constantly now. She picked up the pistol, cocked it, and put it into his trembling hand. She kissed him a sisterly kiss and whispered "Please, please, help me a little bit more, Justy. Be strong for me. I really need this, but I just can't do it for myself." She brushed away some of his tears with her fingertips, then she laid down on her side with her back toward him.

His whole body was trembling violently ...

and he was sobbing ...

as he touched the muzzle to the back of her head.

"Do it now," she urged quietly.

The pistol roared once ...

then quickly twice more.

Justin flung the vile thing away. It clattered obscenely, mocking him, as it slid across the floor. He cradled the lifeless body of his beloved sister in his arms. He rocked back and forth for several minutes, like a loving parent rocking an infant. "AHHHAHHhhh ..." A long, gut-wrenching wail erupted from deep within him. It was the anguished, hopeless cry of the damned.

After a while, Justin tenderly laid his sister's body down. He walked over and picked up the pistol, then walked back in front of his father. "When you butchered mom, you actually killed us all," he grimly told his father. "Too bad you're too much of a coward to just kill yourself in the first place." Justin was covered with his sister's blood. He saw that his father was looking at the blood, and at the pistol, with fear in his eyes. "No, Dad, I'm not going to shoot you. I hate you just as much as Sis did, but neither of us could actually pull the trigger on you. The gun is my way. But Sis and I filled some of these packing crates with high explosives and flammable liquids. That will be your way. There's a timer that will be setting them off in ... in just a few minutes now. With any luck, we'll all burn so completely, the authorities won't ever be able to identify our remains." He put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, pulled the trigger, and fell dead at his father's feet.

The man felt a single, powerful wave of sorrow as his son fell, but only for a moment. He felt no remorse. But he did feel renewed fear. He started pulling frantically against the ropes that bound him to the post. He had only a few minutes to escape from the explosives planted by his son and daughter. But it was no use. He couldn't break free without more time to gradually work the ropes loose. He was suddenly startled by a very loud crack of thunder. He saw that the thunderstorm had arrived. It seemed to be all around the warehouse, and it was a violent one, with lots of lightning. He suddenly had a hopeful thought. The timer his son had mentioned was certain to be an electric one. What if the electric power to the warehouse were knocked out by lightning? Wouldn't that stop the timer and keep the explosives from going off? Could he cheat justice again? There was an especially loud crack of thunder, the dim light in the warehouse went off, and he knew he had time to work on the ropes. He could soon be out again, trying to get his little dick into more of those starry-eyed, foolish young women.