23

It was her twenty-third birthday. None of the other patrons in the diner would have known by the way she carried herself; Ill at ease and eyes nervously scanning for anyone who might notice her.

She need not worry. She was invisible, and invisible by choice. Invisibility was a skill and she had mastered it. Her shoulder-length hair was unkempt. It had been blue last year and for some months it had been pink. Mostly pink, anyway. She'd broke down and tried to dye it back to something resembling its original shade of blonde the night before, but only the bottom three inches held the color long enough to make a difference. That hair turned platinum white. The end result was a messy calliope of nothingness. Eyes did not catch on her, not even on her flawless face. A woman was foremost her hair, and the girl's chaotic hair nudged a casual glance aside before any quickstepping New York passerby could revel in the beauty it framed.

"Nothin' to see here, Mac. Move it along. Move it along."

She situated the ceramic mug of coffee to her side, flipped open her notebook, and clicked an ink-coated stinger from the tip of her pen.

The girl stared at the blank page for a long time. She finally sipped at her coffee as a diversion. It was tepid.

The words, any words, were too ominous. The first loop of ink across the paper would constitute a Judas Kiss, the ultimate betrayal of all she was. She set the pen down and scraped a fingernail of chipped, goth black polish nervously across her bottom teeth.

She looked through the diner window across the January streetscape of Linden Avenue. The first kids from George Gershwin Junior High were beginning to filter past on the opposite side of the plowed street. Otherwise the traffic was tame for Queens; the lull between lunch rush and drivetime.

Joanie slid into the opposite seat of the booth and the girl's concentration broke.

"Hey gurlfriend," Joanie said. "How'd it go?"

The girl shrugged.

"Jesus. You didn't go." Joanie adjusted her hobo purse on the booth seat and spooled her hipster scarf off her neck and into its wide mouth.

"I went," said the girl.

"Did you? Really? You wore that?" Joanie scowled.

The girl flinched and folded in on herself. "What? My hoodie? Nobody said it was formal."

"It's not formal," Joanie said. "But you look like a hot mess. I'd make you wash that awful sweatshirt of yours but I don't think it would survive another cycle through the laundry."

"Stop picking on me."

Joanie took a breath. "You're right. Sorry, babe. Sooo?"

The girl's long neck disappeared as her shoulders pressed upwards. "We didn't talk a whole lot. Just basic shit. He took a lot of notes. That was the weird part, we didn't talk much, but he never stopped taking notes."

"Shrinks do that, you'll get used to it."

"I guess. He seemed okay, the Doc."

"He's the best. And easy on the eyes, right? Did I lie?"

The girl smirked, then shrugged. "Yeah he's cute. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I should look for a female psychiatrist."

"Don't be a hater. He's great. You're going to love him if you give him a chance."

"Thanks again," said the girl. "Thanks for paying for it. Or getting your folks to pay for it, I mean."

"Not a prob. The fuck you do to your hair, Polly?"

"I tried the stuff you left me. The wheat blonde L'Oreal."

"Just the ends? The fuck!"

"No, it just... it didn't... I don't know why it didn't take evenly."

"You look like shit twice stepped-in, girl."

"I know." Polly looked down at the notebook.

Joanie clenched her teeth and seethed herself back to calm. "Darlin", you need to serve a better class of clientele, and that means you must evolve a bit above this Suicide Girl look of yours. It adds years to your face."

"I know."

"Just... You know... Class it up a little."

"Okay."

"For the love of fuck, Polly, stop being so meek. You're pissing me off."

The girl turtled her head a slight bit taller. "Fuck you?" she asked hesitantly.

Joanie laughed. "That's better. What are you writing?"

"Homework," the girl said. "The doctor wants me to journal out the whole thing. Start at the beginning."

Joanie nodded at the blank open notebook in front of Polly. "Right. I see you are off to an auspicious start."

"I took an oath to my daddy," Polly said. "Breaking it is a big deal."

"Fuck him!" Joanie spat. "He's a fucking lowlife and you owe him noh-thing."

The girl shrugged. "Yeah. True. But an oath is an oath. I mean, he's a shitburger, but if I took an oath, that's on me, right?"

Joanie shushed long enough to flip her coffee cup upward and order a toasted sesame bagel from the waitress. After the waitress walked away, Joanie tapped her perfectly painted red fingernails on the spiral bound notebook. Joanie's nail polish color-of-choice was a shade called "I'm Not Really a Waitress." Polly reveled in this irony because Joanie was "more or less" a waitress. Or a hostess. Or a hooker. Or some strange m"lange of all three at the uptown club where they both worked.

"Write," Joanie said. "Go ahead. Write while I can watch you break your bullshit oath. Some crap he made you say when you were a kid doesn't mean shit. If this were a court of law, that oath would be invalidated. You were 'under duress.' "

"Yeah."

"So write. Write one sentence."

"I don't even know what to write," the girl said.

"Are you breaking out in hives? Damn, girl. Just write something inane. 'My name is Polly Dawson.' Like that. Start with that."

"I almost wrote those words," Polly said. "But my name isn't Polly Dawson."

Joanie stopped in mid slurp of her hot mug. "It isn't? Which? The 'Polly' or the 'Dawson?'"

"Both. Dawson I got from the guy who forged my New York driver's license. Remember I told you about him? And Polly..." The girl looked out the window.

Joanie cleared her throat dramatically. "You think you know someone. My roommate has more secrets than the CIA. Polly isn't your birth name?"

The girl shook her head no.

"Well," Joanie growled, "you want a drum roll or something?"

The girl never stopped staring out the window. She watched a gaggle of young middle school girls in plaid skirts and Burberry coats dancing their way home along the far sidewalk. "It's funny," she said. "It's funny that I almost forgot my real name. I can't remember anyone ever saying the whole thing out loud except Daddy when he was mad and maybe six or seven teachers. Youknow. First day of class?"

Mrs. Hawk had the face of a poorly-manicured altar candle. She was ancient and the tip of her long nose was sooty with some kind of skin disease. Rivulets of waxy skin connected her chin to her chest. At the top of her round head, her grey hair was pulled so tight that her hairline scalloped. She looked as bitter and humorless as her surname.

"I say again, Prinadlezhavshiy Reynolds. Who is Prinadlezhavshiy Reynolds? Children?"

Pryn shifted in the fixed confines of her one-piece, wooden First Grader's desk. It felt intractable and foreign on her bum, especially as a contrast to the soft, colorful carpet of the Kindergarten rooms. "Uhm," Pryn's hand lifted a tentative inch off the desktop, "My last name is Reynolds. But my first name is Pryn."

Mrs. Hawk's face pinched. She scribbled on her notebook. "Silliness. P-R-I-N-N, is that, correct?"

Pryn did not understand what she was being asked. "P-R-Y-N. That's how my daddy spells it."

Mrs. Hawk rolled her eyes. "Lovely," Mrs. Hawk muttered. "Always a delight to have to teach idiot yokel parents the fundamentals of our language as I teach their illiterate spawn. Just lovely."

Pryn stepped off the bus and searched the coffee klatch of waiting mothers for her own. The first school bus arrival of the year was an event, and all the moms were there with smiles on. Oks Reynolds stepped forward and scooped Pryn into a back-breaking mom hug while balancing her four year old son on her hip.

Pryn reflected all that happy energy back into her mother with dividends. Pryn buried her nose into her mother's neck, under the modesty curtain of her shimmering long blonde hair. Pryn smiled.

"Welcome home, Sweetie! How was your first day of big girl school?"

Something wrinkled Pryn's nose before she could answer. Her mother was wearing perfume. Pryn went stiff. "Daddy came home?"

"No, Sweetie, but he caught an earlier flight from Alaska and we're going to pick him up from the airport tonight. Isn't that great?"

Pryn nodded with a stiff neck. The lie you didn't say was better than the lie that came out of your mouth. She loved her Daddy, but he had not been home for a long, long time. All Pryn could remember from the last time Daddy was home was a big fight he and her mom had had. Oks had cried a lot. Then Daddy left and Oks cried for a long time after.

Pryn could hardly remember what Daddy looked like. But she remembered that Daddy was trouble.

012214: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: Ox?

A: Oksana. That's her real name. O-K-S-A-N-A.

Q: Sorry, I misunderstood.

A: No. You were supposed to think "Ox." Beast of burden. That's how Daddy said it. That's how Daddy meant it. Like she was an implement. My real name is --" Well that's not important. But it translates into the Russian word for "owned." Ox. Owned. It reinforced our station. We were Daddy's property.

Q: Right. Right. Your mother was Russian?

A: Belarussian. Dad met her when he was working the oil fields there. She was fifteen. He was nineteen.

Q: Let's start with your mother. Describe her for me.

A: Gosh. Where do I start? You know how every kid thinks her mother is the prettiest mom in the neighborhood?

Q: Sure.

A: And then you grow up and you realize that your mom was, at best, average? Isn't that how it goes? Well as a little girl I thought my mother was amazingly beautiful. Blonde hair with this natural redburst underwash that framed her high cheeks and tiny nose. She was the youngest of the neighborhood moms, I realize that now, looking back. I didn't at six. She gave birth to me the week after she turned seventeen. Our birthdays are four days apart.

So now, now that I'm a little older and more self-aware, I realize my mom was actually way more stunning than any mother of two kids had a right to be. Those pouty, flushed Russian plump lips of hers. Big old deer eyes. Hang on, I've got a picture of her in my purse. Ah. Crap. I don't mean to embarrass you. You're a professional, right. All I've got are some Polaroids. Here. These were taken the night after my Sweet Sixteen. I guess that makes her, what? 34 in these photos?

Q: Holy cow!

A: Yeah.

Q: She's lovely.

A: [laughs] Don't bullshit me, Doc. She's a sexpot.

Q: Your words, Pryn, but I won't quibble the description. She looks young. And very sad.

A: Your eyes just took on that hungry wolf look that guys get when they see a sexy woman.

Q: Possibly. I'm human and your mother is a lovely woman. For the time-being let's move past the fact you have nude Polaroids of your mother in your purse. Did she keep her accent?

A: I left the house really fast when I cleared out. I took those photos out of Daddy's drawer. They were the only pictures I could find that didn't have Daddy or Nick in them. Well, I've got one more, but it's in my storage locker. As far as her accent goes, a little. The Russian aspect of Mom came out more in her word choice than her accent. If she ever struggled with English, it was before I was born. She had a little musical trace of the old country left in her thick-tongued consonants. And she'd cuss in Russian when she was stressed out. She said that after she had been in the States for five years, Dad spoke Russian better than she did. She tried really hard to forget her upbringing. She never looked back or had any nostalgia for her homeland.

Q: She had a hard upbringing?

A: Apparently. She always said, "Daddy saved me! Daddy saved me! I owe your daddy everything because he saved my life."

Q: Saved her from what?

A: I never got the whole story. When Mom was drunk once a couple of years ago, she said that when she was a girl Daddy tried to buy her from a really bad guy, but the bad guy said she wasn't for sale. So dad "Did what he had to do."

Q: What do you think that means, "Did what he had to do?"

A: [shrug] Dunno.

Q: Something violent, you think?

A: Of course. Certainly. I'm sure they didn't have a trivia contest for possession of my mother.

Q: Would you characterize your father as a violent man?

A: I'd characterize my dad as "The most Alpha motherfucker in Alphadom." There were three kinds of people in dad's life; the one's he owned, the ones he was going to own, and the ones who didn't matter enough to own.

Q: You sidestepped my question.

A: No. You framed violence the way everybody else does. Like it's a character flaw. Like it's a latent disease that bubbles up and takes over a personality like a cancer. Naw. Daddy used force as a means to an end. It was never the first blade out of his pocketknife, but it was certainly right there behind the corkscrew and the screwdriver tip. And, to beat the metaphor to death, when "that" blade finally did come out, it was long and it was sharp, and somebody was sure to regret fucking with him.

What are you doing?

Q: I'm looking back over some notes. Oil man? What kind of oil man was your father? Roughneck or geologist, or what?

A: Not a surveyman. He started as a roughneck. Built pipelines. Drilled from sea platforms. Whatever assignment paid more at the time. He bounced back and forth between assignments a lot, but always for ..REDACTED..

Corporation. Alaska for six months. Siberia for six months. Argentina for six months. Back to Alaska. Dad worked his way up the chain of supervisor positions until he said he looked down at the shower tiles under his feet one day and he only saw shampoo bubbling a path to the drain. That's how he knew he was really the kind of management who makes a difference to an oil man.

Q: I don't understand.

A: It's like a lot of the second and third tier managers on a pipeline are still digging, and still getting dirty and covered in crude, you know?

Q: Ah. Okay. Got it. And your dad is originally from?"

A: Lexington. He and Mom either lived in Louisville or across the river in Indiana their entire adult lives. Well, except for the parts where Dad lived in New Orleans with his other wife and his other kids.

Q: I'm confused. Did he remarry? I thought your parents were still married. Is this before he met your mother?

A: No. Same time. Sometimes he'd come home from a long assignment and live with us. Sometimes he'd go to his other wife and his other family in New Orleans. As far as I know, he's still married to two women. And one of his other daughters also ended up being kind of a third wife.

Q: And your mother found out about this other woman? When?

A: I'm pretty sure it was an open secret. She's the one who explained it to me, eventually. I started putting it together somewhere around" I dunno. Eleven. Twelve.

Q: How'd that make you feel.

A: Relieved.

Q: Explain, please.

A: If he was with them, he wasn't with us. If he was fucking his other wife and his other daughters in New Orleans, then he wasn't in Louisville fucking Mom and me.

Q: And your mother"?

A: Oh, just the opposite. She definitely always wanted him with us. Things for her were always better when he was with us. It was like a contest between his two wives, and when he came back to Louisville, she was winning. That's why she always put so much pressure on me and my brother to be super obedient when Daddy was home. "Why cannot you be a proper daughter, girl? Be a proper daughter for your father!" It's why she was willing to look the other way when he started molesting me. Well, that is not exactly an accurate description. She didn't "look the other way." She was in the room, coaching me. "Point your toes! Move your ass! No, curve your back the other way!" Hell, she even talked about sex technique with me while he was gone so that I'd be a better sex slave when he was in town. It wasn't just wife competing against wife for his time. It was the whole incestuous package.

Mom thought making our home the perfect sex slave brothel for dad was better than him not being there at all. And of course, even though dad took care of us financially, there was always extra, fuck-around money falling from the ceiling when he was home with us.

Q: Whoa, let me back you up for a minute. Specifically, what age did the molestation start?

A: Specifically, it's almost impossible to say. I don't remember anything exceptionally weird before I was six and a half. My sex history with my dad played out in very specific chapters, you know? When he was gone, everything was very normal. My mother was the world's most loving and perfect and doting single mom. And then there's that time he was home and did this thing. And then that time and that thing. Chapters. Really distinct chapters. That's the way I remember them.

Q: Hour is up, Pryn. Next time I want you to think about what happened during the chapter where you were six and a half.

SEPTEMBER 1996

Oks ran her fingertips through Nicolai's hair for the ten thousandth time, squatting in front of him and fussing over some insistent imperfection only a mother could see.

The gate attendant opened the door to the jetway and locked it back on its hinges with a loud thunk.

"Now you two be excellent children for Daddy. Promise me." Oks looked back and forth between the children while they were still on the same eye level.

Pryn and Nick mumbled assurances.

"I mean it. 'Yes sir.' 'No sir.' Pryn, you hug him hard. Like a proper daughter. Nick, you hold out your hand and give Daddy's hand a firm shake. Look him in the eye."

Nick nodded, but clearly did not understand. Though the memory of this man, "Daddy," was hazy in Pryn's memory, Pryn was certain Nick could not possibly remember Daddy at all. He was barely two the last time Daddy had been to Louisville. Nick's only reference to Daddy would have been the framed photograph on his mother's nightstand.

Brusque travelers with briefcases in their hands and overcoats folded over their forearms shot out of the jetway, practically on a dead run to somewhere urgent. Then a pause, followed by an elderly couple holding back a dozen impatient adults in a clot behind them.

Pryn waited, holding her mother's sweaty hand. Oks bounced on her high heels and scanned the extant firehose of humanity spraying toward them. Until it thinned out. And then was gone.

"Ah shit," Oks mumbled. "He stood us up. Again. Bastard!"

But then there he was. Last passenger off the plane. Pryn was unprepared for how breathtakingly handsome he was. She didn't even recognize him as her father, only a tall and flawless man. Before her father appeared in the jetway door, Pryn did not believe there was a more handsome man on the planet than the actor who played Batman, Val Kilmer.

The man smiling at Pryn's mother was taller than the other men. Wider in the shoulders and very narrow at the waist. He was dressed like a magazine model. He wore shimmering blue-grey slacks and a matching vest over his tailored white shirt. His short, dark hair was so thick it looked plastic.

Oks dropped Pryn's hand and ran at the man aggressively. At the last second she jumped at his chest and he caught her sides with his hands. Pryn marveled at their size differential. Her mother was smaller than the garment bag her father dropped before he caught her. His mother squealed with delight and Daddy pressed her into the air.

The attraction between the two was as strong as any magnet, but Chapman Reynolds' thick arms were powerful enough to keep the gravity between them at bay for a long beat while he eye-swept his wife from head to toe. Then he pulled her into a long kiss, her shoes kicking two feet above the industrial airport carpeting.

Chapman Reynolds set his wife on the ground and picked up his garment bag.

"Noble Prince!" he said, walking toward Nicolai.

Nick extended his hand formally. This made Chapman laugh; a broad display of perfect teeth. Chapman leaned forward and gave Nick's hand two hard pumps.

"And you!" Chapman turned toward Pryn.

Pryn froze. She looked at Oks. Oks gave a subtle "hurry up!" wiggle of her fingers to match her impatient expression. Pryn hesitantly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her father's waist. He smelled good, but there was something thick in his trousers that pushed back against her cheek.

"Where'd you park?" Chapman asked Oks.

"Economy lot, like you said."

"By the taxi overflow?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"That's perfect! C'mon family! I can't wait to get home."

It was a long walk to the low-ticket parking lot, especially for little Nick, who had to practically keep up a dead run to maintain pace with his father's long strides. The long trek through the surface lots and waits to cross busy streets on a cold evening rubbed a raw spot on the tip of Pryn's nose by the time they arrived at the Taurus.

Chapman slid behind the wheel and turned over the engine while Oks buckled Pryn in the back and then latched Nick into his car seat. Oks even loaded his bags into the trunk. Chapman lifted the middle arm rest as Oks took her place in the passenger's seat. Pryn found it very odd to see her mother as a passenger. Oks beamed, and that made Pryn very happy.

Pryn's daddy huffed some warmth into his cupped hands, but did not put the car in gear.

"Ready?" Oks asked.

"Not just yet, babe," Chapman said.

Pryn watched her father fidget against his seat directly in front of her. She heard the distinct rip of a zipper, followed by the jingle of a belt buckle.

The smile fell off of Oks Reynolds' face as she stared downward into her husband's lap. "Honey," she said nervously, almost a question onto itself. Her big eyes flitted toward the children strapped into the back seat.

Chappy Reynolds hooked his big right hand behind Oks' tiny neck. With his left hand he pointed through the windshield at half a dozen cabbies standing in the cold, gathered around the lead car, talking.

"See those gentlemen there? The first one that walks across the street to see you do your thing, I'm going to send you back to his cab to suck his cock, and then you're going to come back here and start all over again with me. We'll do that over and over again until you suck me off or they radio-in a call to every smelly friend they have in the fleet and you drain the whole immigrant lot of "em. You got it, bitch? Get busy." Chapman yanked Oks' head downward. A second later Pryn heard the slurps and mewls of her mother's wet mouth working against something.

"Ah, there we go." Chapman's neck swiveled against the headrest. "Yeah. There we go. That's nice. Can you taste that? Can you taste Her pussy? That was Her idea. She said it was her way of saying hello, and she said she knows it won't take long for you to fuck up and send me back South again. MMmmmm. Oksy. You suck like you really missed me. Did you miss me?"

Pryn heard her mother come up for air. "Yes sir." Then more slurpy mouth sounds.

"Uh oh," Chapman said. "Your friends over there are looking at us. They know what you are doing. They're looking over here and smiling like they know what you're doing, slut. They can see that shiny hair of yours flashing in the streetlight." Chapman waved to someone outside the car.

Oks' mouth slurps echoed through the interior of the car at a more frantic pace.

"They're talking to each other. Daring one another into coming over here and watch you do your thing. I don't know if you're going to make it, slut. Maybe if I hadn't fucked Katrina before I got on the plane you'd have a chance."

Oks' breathy voice: "You always have more for me, sir. I know how you like it. There's always more in you, and I'm going to get it."

"That's my slutty girl." Chapman leaned his head backwards against the head rest and moaned a deep, lion-like rumble." He took a few hard breaths and then reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror until he was looking at the reflection of Pryn. Pryn looked back at the oval crop of the top of her father's face, awash in a moving pastiche of shadows, moonlight, and headlamp reflections.

"How are you, darling? You're not a baby any more, are you? You're a proper girl. And a pretty one."

Oks had been firm about what to say if Daddy complimented Pryn. "Thank you, Daddy."

"How's school?"

"Fine."

"What's your teacher's name?"

"Mrs. Hawk."

"You like her?"

Pryn considered this. "No sir. Not really?"

"Why not?"

"She's kind of mean."

"Ooohhhh. Shit, that is nice, slut. Better hurry up. Looks like one of them is about to walk over." Back to the mirror: "So who is your best friend, darlin'? What's her name?"

"Troy Walker."

"Troy?" Your best friend is a boy? Really?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh, I'm going to have to keep my eye on you, too, I guess." Chapman smiled. "A boy for a girl's best friend. I can't believe that. Have you kissed him? Troy the Boy?"

Pryn's face contorted in disgust. "No sir. That's gross."

"So what do you and this Troy fella do when you do your friend thing?"

"Play video games."

"Uhhhhn. Jesus, you are sucking like the little split-tailed whore I remember. Fuck, you're a horny little cocksucker, aren't you?"

Oks voice: "Yes sir. I've missed having a hard cock in my mouth for so long, I couldn't hardly stand another minute without hot come."

To the mirror: "Are you good at video games?"

Pryn shrugged. Then nodded yes.

"Honey, when Daddy asks you a question, you answer Daddy proper, okay?"

"Yes sir, Daddy. I'm pretty good at video..."

"Whooops!" Chapman said, looking down at his lap. "One of those greaseballs is walking over here. Looks like you aren't going to make it, slut. Maybe my daughter can hop up front and keep her daddy ready until you get back from being whored out to a stranger and finish me off."

Pryn craned her neck to see over the hinged-up center armrest. Indeed, there was a fat man with a moustache and a cabbie's hat walking an irregular line toward their car as if he were uncertain. Or drunk.

The car shook with the motion of Oks doing whatever her head was doing on Chapman Reynolds's lap." She moaned a wet and mournful siren, a thrumming sound start-and-stopped by something hitting the back of her throat every half second.

Chapman Reynolds looked at his daughter in the mirror once more and smiled. "You know, when your momma was your age, she was already loving on her daddy like a grown up girl." Down: "Isn't that right, slut?" Chapman Reynolds smiled a huge, evil smile. Then the smile turned into a grimace as his lips peeled back from clenched teeth. "Gaaaaaaa-YAH! FUCK! DAMMIT!" he shouted.

Nick, who had been kicking his legs against his car seat in boredom, flinched at the angry outburst from his father. He looked as if he might cry.

Chapman rolled his neck one more time. Oks lifted her head back up, her tongue flicking back and forth at the goopy corners of her mouth to capture something important.

Pryn's daddy slapped the car into gear and nearly hit the moustached man as he pulled out onto the access road.

The next morning, Pryn shuffled into the kitchen to find her father sitting at the table, pouring over the stack of spiral bound notebooks that her mother called "The Books." Sometimes she called them "The Budget." If Pryn or Nick wanted a toy, their mother would always make the same determined, mouth-sideways expression and say, "I'll have to see if that is in The Books." Or "I'll have to email your daddy and see if we can put that in The Budget."

Pryn had once opened "The Books" and looked at the curious lists and numbers penned in rows by her mother's elegant script. Pryn expected The Books to be a list of toys that Pryn could have one day if she just knew which ones to ask for. No such luck. Just long boring lists of can goods and tri-folded grocery store receipts stapled next to them.

For his part, Chapman Reynolds seemed fascinated by the lists of boring foods and clothes and utility bill receipts that Oks Reynolds had written and fastened in "The Books." He rubbed the stubble on his angular jaw and tapped at a calculator positioned beside his coffee.

He wore only a T-shirt and pajama pants. The T-shirt looked too small to contain the big muscles underneath. Pryn looked at her father's knotted, sinewy biceps on bare display. He looked like he could lift a car over his head and throw it, like a Batman villain. He didn't look up at Pryn as she pulled a frozen waffle out of the freezer and dropped it into the toaster.

The metallic shwunk! of the toaster spring summoned Oks from the family room. She was wearing a loose teal T-shirt with no bra underneath. It was long enough to cut the tops of her thighs. Pryn stared at the dots of her mother's nipples poking from the tent of her breasts. Her mother never dressed this casually in the morning. Her mother never went without a bra. What if Troy came over to play? Pryn would absolutely die of shame if her mother's nipples were poking out where her friends could see them.

Oks kissed Pryn on the scalp. "Good morning, Pryn."

Pryn's nose wrinkled. Her mother smelled of something musty.

"Nick up?" Pryn asked.

"He's downstairs in the playroom with his cars."

Pryn sighed. "He's lucky not to have to go to school."

"Not much longer and he'll be on the bus with you," Oks said.

"Ox," said Chapman. "These books are all pretty tight. Good job."

"Thank you, sir," Oks smiled.

"Yeah, except for two weeks ago you go six dollars off. I can't find it anywhere."

Oks blinked in disbelief and leaned back against the sink. "Really, sir? Thirty one months of perfect accounting and you're going to fuss over six dollars from two weeks ago?"

Chapman leaned back in the kitchen chair. He was so large the chair squeaked under his weight. "Actually I can see that you skewed a full sixty dollars off-plan in the summer of 1994, but you clawed that back from the Christmas budget, didn't you? Ox, the books are either right or they aren't. It doesn't matter if it's thirty-one months or thirty-one years. It doesn't matter if it's six dollars or six hundred dollars. The books are either right or they are not right. What the fuck is with this?"

For the first time Chapman took notice of Pryn. He was pointing at her pajama pants.

Oks shifted weight between her tiny feet. "Sir? She's just a little girl."

"Little girl, big girl, I don't fucking care," Chapman said. His brow furrowed and he looked so menacing that Pryn nearly peed herself. "Little. Big. Penny. Dollar. Month. Year. I said no pants on my women. How fucking hard is that to understand?"

Oks opened her mouth and then thought better of what she was going to say. "Yes sir." She forced a smile. "I'll take care of it right now."

Oks grabbed Pryn's hand and lead her upstairs to Pryn's room.

"Mom?" Pryn said.

"Shut up," Oks answered with a terse last yank of Pryn's arm. "Just shut up. Where are your skirts?"

"I don't want to wear skirts to school, Mom."

"I said to shut up. You've got clean tights in your chest-of-drawers somewhere. Take off those pajamas, now. Oh shit, please tell me that you still fit in these skorts until I can get to Target." Oks held a khaki skort in front of Pryn's waist for size.

"What is going on?" Pryn asked.

"Daddy doesn't want you in pants while he's home. Skirts only. Don't backtalk, just do it."

"I'm not going to wear skirts to bed," said Pryn, kicking off the last of her pajama bottoms. She stood defiantly with her arms crossed over her bare chest.

"You'll wear a nightshirt or a long T-shirt to bed instead of pajamas." Oks stopped and looked at Pryn. "Aw fuck. Lose the Wonder Woman panties, too. Your daddy would shit kittens if he saw those. Put on a pair of normal panties. Flowers or like that. Oh my God, he's going to beat my ass. I don't have any girl clothes for you. How could I be such a fucking dura?"

Pryn noted that her mother's Russian accent was thickening, the way it did when she got really nervous. "Don't be silly," Pryn said. "All of my clothes are girl clothes."

"Not as far as Daddy is concerned, they're not. Oh shit. Oh shit. I've got to figure out what happened to that six dollars, Pryn. I was hoping he wouldn't make a fuss, but he sure did. Six dollars. Gospodi!"

"I have six dollars in my penguin bank. You can have it, Mom."

"You are a sweetheart. That is not going to solve my problem, Pryn. It's not the amount. It's my lack of attention to details. That's the kind of thing that gets Daddy's piss up."

"Why is he mad at you?"

"Daddy has rules, Pryn. We talked about this before, remember? You promised me you were going to be a good girl and make him want to stay with us for a long time, remember?"

"What were you doing with Daddy in the parking lot of the airport last night? He wasn't mad at you then."

Oks stopped and snuffled a laugh. "Honey, if I could do that for Daddy every minute of every waking hour, I would. Unfortunately even your horny daddy can't want my mommy-loving all the time. He needs time to rest. And when he rests, that's when he gets picky about things like skirts and mistakes in The Budget."

"What were you doing with your head in his lap?"

"I was loving on him, Darling. Your daddy had not seen me for a very long time, and men don't like to wait to be loved on, so he wanted love and I gave it to him."

"I thought mommies loved daddies with their hoo-ha."

Oks never stopped opening and closing drawers. "Moms love dads with their whole being. Their whole body. Their whole soul. Just don't worry about it, okay. I'll worry about daddy. You get dressed."

The pneumatic bus door hissed open. There were half as many moms waiting for the offload of kids on the second day of school. Oks was not among them. Pryn hopped off the lowest step of the bus and onto the curb, her Elmo backpack colliding a beat behind. She was invisible to the other moms. They were focused on their own. Pryn half expected one of them to assume the role of Designated Mom and walk her home. None did. Pryn stalled for a few shuffles of her feet and then walked five feet behind Mrs. DeLio and Maurice. Pryn knew they had to walk past her house on the way down the cul-de-sac. Pryn pretended she was their charge.

The skorts her mother had made her wear were cutting into her waistline. They were too small. Pryn couldn't wait to shuck them and put on some jeans. Pryn expected Nick would be waiting for her push him on the swingset. As always, she would protest and pretend that sacrificing prime cartoon time was a burden, but in truth there was little that made her more happy than doting on her brother.

Pryn walked through the wooden backyard fence gate, around to the kitchen entrance. She let herself in the unlocked door.

"Moooom!" I'm home!" Pryn announced, dropping her backpack on the wooden deacon's bench with a dramatic thud. Pryn reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a Capri Sun from the box on the bottom shelf. She closed the door to find a gothic horror facsimile of her mother where the door had been. Oks was pale. She had a puddle of black mascara wash pooling under her eyes like a raccoon. She was wearing a man's sleeveless T-shirt, again without a bra, and again with obscene nipples pushing from her breasts. She wore a plaid short skirt and no shoes. Pryn's eyes locked on the thick black choker her mother wore around her neck. Then Pryn realized it was a dog collar.

The ghost pretending to be Oks Reynolds said, "Welcome home, baby!" in the same sing-song mom voice that Pryn's real mom used. The ghost mom hugged Pryn and kissed Pryn on the scalp the same way that Pryn's real mom did.

Then the ghost mom whispered in a chilling, urgent voice, "Go downstairs and stay with your brother until I call you for dinner. Be a very good girl like you promised me. Be very quiet and don't come upstairs for any reason until I call for you. Go!"

Nick was a squirmy boy. It was hard to corral him in one place or one activity for very long. He had the attention span of a gnat. Pryn loved Nick above everything, even more than she loved her mother, but Nick was a frustrating little brother. He never wanted to play on the same playground item for more than two minutes before running to a different station. He never wanted to crayon in a coloring book long enough to finish a picture. Pryn took great pride in her crayon skills, even cutting construction paper frames for her best, refrigerator-quality work. Nick taped his coloring book pages to the hall side of his bedroom door with nothing more than a hastily crosshatched scribble of Cadet Blue on the turtle's hat.

Pryn found Nick wedged in the narrow gap between the washer and dryer, quivering. The needle on her danger meter made the final twitch from the yellow zone into the red. Nick's face said it all. His eye sockets were sallow from crying, and he was looking up at the subfloor like the Boogeyman himself might come crashing through it at any moment.

"Hey, brat, it's okay," Pryn said. "I'm here." She tried to smile.

Nick nervously pointed upwards. A beat later came the screech of Oks in agony, a high-pitched animal yip that burst out of nothingness and then lingered unwelcome in Pryn's inner-ear like a burrowing insect. Pryn's skin crawled with fear. She pulled Nick from his hiding place and relocated him to the primitive cedar closet in the far side of the basement. She closed them both inside. It was farther away from the violence above, and all of the coats and dresses hanging above them helped muffle the traveling sound waves. Pryn wrapped her arms around Nick's quivering torso, bringing them up under his arms into a full-nelson of her hands cupped over his ears. For once, Nick seemed content to stay where Pryn put him.

For her part, Pryn wished her friend Troy were spooning behind her, keeping her safe and holding his hands over her ears so she didn't have to hear another one of her mother's icepicks screams.

Suppertime would have been just another suppertime if not for two anomalies: Chapman Reynolds sat at the normally empty spot in the table, and Oksana Reynolds ate standing at the kitchen counter. Other than that... normal.

Oks made her signature pickle-slaw salad and macaroni goulash with lamb meat: Pryn's favorite dish and Nick's favorite dish, respectively. Chapman Reynolds had three helpings of both, complementing his wife's culinary skills at least once every ten bites.

"Ox, Darlin'," he pushed back from the table and patted his flat stomach with a hand the size of a frying pan, "I'm going to have to run ten miles to burn through all these carbs, but goddamn you can cook a meal fit for a Czar."

Oks cleared his dishes and kissed Chapman on his ear. She was dressed like a mother once more. No dog collar. Just a short denim skirt and a gingham top tied into a crop that left her stomach exposed. "You could use some comfort food, Darling Husband. You're all sinew and bone. I know how to keep some meat on my man."

Pryn thought it sounded odd for her mother to emphasize the word "I" so strongly.

"Believe it or not, the company cookie in Siberia isn't half bad, but they can't seem to keep a decent cookie in Alaska. That camp is always turning over the skill jobs. Of course, they'll hire any strung out cokehead who wanders close enough to the outstation to stay through the heavy snows."

Oks loaded Chapman's plates into the dishwasher. "Anytime you need us to come along with you, I can feed you and your crew."

"You and sixty horny, drunk leadhands?" Chapman smiled and shot a wink at Pryn. "Yeah, I bet your mother would like that, don't you?"

Chapman maintained his eyelock with Pryn. Pryn tried to look away, but her eyes kept flitting back to her father's gregarious smile.

"What about you, Prinadlez?" Chapman asked. "Would you like to see Alaska?"

Pryn continued to shrink under the withering gaze of her imposing father. She slouched lower in her chair. She shrugged.

Any hint of smile fell away from Chapman. "Ah. So it's going to be like that between you and me, huh Prinadlez?"

Pryn sank in her chair until her eyes fell below the bevel of the table and she did not have to take the full brunt of her father's disapproving eyes.

"Prinadlez, sit up and answer me," Chapman said. "Good. That takes care of the sitting up part. You know that shrugs and nods are rude substitutes for proper conversations. I'm not going to warn you again. Now, I asked you a question. Would you like to visit Alaska?"

"No!" Pryn shouted it so abruptly that Oks fumbled the glass she was loading into the dishwasher. Everyone stared at Pryn. Even Nick.

Chapman took a deep breath. "Alright. I heard that. Tell me. Why don't you want to go to Alaska, Prinadlez?"

"I don't know," Pryn snapped. She was surprised by the sound of anger in her own voice. "I just don't. I don't want to go to Alaska and I don't want to go to Russia. I don't want to go anywhere. I like it here, and I liked it a lot better before you came here and messed everything up!"

Oks raised her hand to her mouth in horror. "Prinadlez!"

"Well it's true!"

"Little Miss!" Oks growled, "you march your pink ass right to your room and..."

"No." Chapman raised his hand and silenced his wife. "I asked my daughter a question and she answered me. Honestly, it would appear. Very honestly." Chapman took a deep breath and stared Pryn down. "I'll deal with Pryn after dinner. Personally."

The way her father said "Personally" took the verve out of Pryn. She realized she had made a tremendous mistake.

Oks walked silently into Pryn's room and looked down at her with somber eyes. Oks extended her arm and splayed her fingers.

Pryn shuddered. She placed her Polly Pocket in her heart-shaped plastic home and took as long as possible to button it up. Pryn stood and took her mother's outstretched hand. Her mother began walking Pryn downstairs to her doom. Pryn's knees began wobbling involuntarily as they negotiated the stairs. She steadied herself with the banister. Oks marched Pryn to the door she had never been beyond: the door to her father's office was locked when her Chapman Reynolds was away, and he was always away.

Oks stopped and locked eyes with Pryn. Oks' tiny left paw draped over the knob.

"How many times did I tell you to be a good girl while your father was home? Hundreds, maybe? And you did not listen, Prinadlez. Did you?"

A salty waterfall crested the bottom of Pryn's eyelids and her chin quivered in time with her knees.

Her mother's treacherous fingers gripped down on the doorknob and twisted. The door opened. Her father sat in a padded lounge chair the size of a throne on the far end of the room. He was waiting for Pryn and he was not happy.

The look on her father's face forced a flex into Pryn's bladder. Her shoes refused to move forward, but her mother yanked her hand until they had to unglue from the hallway to prevent Pryn from faceplanting on the office carpet.

"Prinadlezhavshiy Reynolds," Chapman Reynolds bellowed in his deepest voice. "Get in here." He pointed at the floor in front of him. "Kneel."

Pryn folded to her bare knees. Her skirt seemed to be too thin a defense against the giant man in front of her. A nice thick pair of corduroy slacks would have made for better armor against the spanking she would likely face.

"Ox, get over here. Turn around." Chapman Reynolds pulled up his wife's short skirt to show his daughter the violence that marked the bare buttocks underneath. "You see this?" Chapman asked Pryn. "Do you see what I did to your mother for stealing six dollars from me?"

Pryn's brain could not process what she was seeing. There were horizontal blood welt stripes all over her mother's bare butt. Her skin looked like a tiger pelt formed of long, angry purple scabs.

Pryn attempted to tell her father that she was very sorry, but she could not seem to move air in or out of her lungs.

"Your mother got a proper caning for her indiscretions," Chapman growled. "And now I've got a sassy-mouthed daughter who doesn't respect her father. What the hell do you think I'm going to do with you?"

"S- s- s- haaahaa..." Pryn's tried to force out another apology, but a whoosh of ineffectual air loitered between her teeth.

"I'm going to have to teach my daughter an important lesson. Ox, I need you to leave and lock the door behind you as you go. No matter what you hear coming from this room after you leave, do not under any circumstances attempt to re-enter this room until I call for you. Do you understand me, Ox?"

"Yes sir." Ox nodded and gave Pryn a sad, knowing nod. She turned and walked out of the room.

Chapman tilted his own neck until it cracked and popped. He took a deep breath and allowed the tension to fester.

"Alright," he announced. "It's time, girly. I'm going to teach you a lesson that you are never going to forget as long as you live."

012914: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: You really don't have to go into details, if you are not comfortable. You can speak in generalities.

A: About what?

Q: About the beating. Enough to say it happened.

A: Oh he didn't beat me.

Q: He didn't?

A: Nope. He didn't even spank me. He just made good on his promise to teach me a lesson I've never forgotten.

Q: Uhm. Okay?

A: He taught me how to make him a Sazerac.

Q: A what?

A: A Sazerac. The drink. The cocktail. A Sazerac. He said it was the cocktail of New Orleans and it was my job to make him a Sazerac any time he asked me to. Which turned out to be quite frequently.

Q: A Sazerac. What the heck, if I may ask, is in a Sazerac? I've never heard of it.

A: It's an insanely complicated mixed drink. Or at least it seemed like it at the tender age of six. It's mostly rye. Absinthe is legal in the States now, but back then it was stuff Daddy smuggled out of Russia. Perchaud's Bitters. Muddled sugar cubes. Daddy wanted his sugar cubes muddled with a wedge of fresh orange slice. Then there's a twisted lemon peel. Daddy was really picky about the lemon peel. No lemon goo on it. Just oils from the peel.

Q: That was your punishment? Mixing a cocktail? Did he make you taste it? Get you inebriated?

A: No. Later on I sampled, but I was nine or ten by that time. And it wasn't because Daddy made me, it was because I really wanted to make him a great cocktail and I had to know how it tasted. But yeah, he had a little wet bar in his locked office and that was the night he taught me my first lesson in serving him.

Q: And then?

A: And then I sat on his lap and he talked to me like I was his daughter for the first time that I could remember. He wrapped me up in those big, bridge cable arms of his and he kissed my ear and he asked me about everything that could possibly be an ongoing concern in the life of a six year old girl. He drowned me in man-attention and wow! It was a delightful way to spend a few hours. It was like we formally met for the first time and I finally saw his good side. I saw what my mother saw in him. I saw how amazingly charming and attentive he could be.

Q: This man who just lifted your mother's dress to demonstrate to you his cruelty?

A: You're thinking about it like a rational adult. And for that matter, you're a guy. I'm not sure you understand that part of being a woman that responds to laser-focused "man attention." I'm explaining to you where I was on that September evening in 1996: Sitting on his lap, with my back leaning against his starched shirt, smelling what was left of the day's aftershave. I was awash in the full attention of a beautiful man, with his scratchy jaw stubble rubbing against my neck and the earthquake rumble of his deep voice moving through my breastbone and vibrating my organs into liquid goo. It was awesome. All I could think was, "Well, I guess Mom must have really screwed up. Because I'm on Daddy's inside and she's on his outside. Sucks to be her."

Q: You mentioned that the sexual abuse started on this particular "Chapter" with your father.

A: Yes.

Q: When did it happen?

A: I just told you. Sazeracs.

Q: I don't understand. He touched you while he was teaching you to bartend?

A: No. No touching. But that's where he took ownership of me. It's when I gave myself to him. It is the point in my life where things shifted and I prioritized Daddy over my mother, you know. All the sex that came in the years after would not have gone so... What's the word? Unimpeded, if not for that night where he folded me in his arms and swept me into his trust.

Now that I think about it. My submissive roots weren't entirely fixed before I left his office that night. There was the part where he came to my room later to tuck me in.

"Good night, Pryn." Oks kissed Pryn on the cheek and cleared the room for her husband.

Chapman hovered over Pryn. She had Milton Bear tucked under her arm. She looked up at her father. Neither spoke for a full minute.

"You favor your mother," Chapman declared. "I wasn't sure if you were going to be a blonde or a redhead. You're kind of in that perfect middle tipping point, like your Mom."

"Strawberry blonde," Pryn offered.

Chapman wrinkled his nose. "Naw. Don't say that. Strawberry blonde is something else. Something less than what you are. You will be beautiful. Like your mother. I just thought that you'd tip one way or the other based on my genes. Sometimes children are blonde at birth and then they turn brunette. You kept that balance of red and blonde your mother has. I hoped you'd go red. A nice redheaded daughter would complete my harem of girls quite nicely."

Pryn blinked. She did not understand.

"But it doesn't matter," Chapman said. "Because you are going to be a spectacular beauty, regardless of the color of your hair. I can tell that much."

"I love you, Daddy." Pryn let the words echo. If she had said as much before, she could not remember ever vocalizing it.

"I know, Prinadlezhavshiy. But I still expect you to show me with the things you do for Daddy and not the words you speak."

Pryn nodded. Somehow, this made sense.

Chapman hovered some more. Pryn expected him to kiss her good night, but instead he turned for the door.

"Daddy!"

"What?"

"I know what happened to the money. The six dollars Mom lost."

"Do you?"

"She gave it to Mr. Drendip."

"Who?"

"He's the old man at the grocery store who puts the stuff in the bags at the end of the checkout table. He got refired. Mom told him congratulations on getting refired."

Chapman raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean retired?"

"Yeah. I guess. Anyway he carried the bags out to Mom's car and put them in the trunk the way he always does. Mom told him she hoped he had a good time not working and thanked him for all the times he helped her carry groceries. She reached in her change purse and gave him a five dollar and a one dollar all mashed up. She said to Mr. Drendip that she was sorry, but it was all the money she had on her."

Chapman sucked his teeth and listened intently to Pryn's ramble. "And how do you know that was the missing money?"

"Because Mom didn't write it down in her little notebook. And she writes everything down in that notebook, so I noticed that was the time she forgot to write in the notebook. I reminded her when we got in the car and then she said her pen was out of ink and she'd write it when she got home. But I guess she forgot. I'm sure that's the money."

Chapman nodded slowly. "Why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"I don't know. I just didn't."

"You saw how severely your mother was punished for losing that money?"

Pryn shrank under her blanket and nodded.

"Well," Chapman Reynolds said after a beat, "there's no reason to mention it now. I know about it. You've done your part and told me. I don't want to hear another word about it. From here-on-out, it's our secret. Yes?"

Pryn nodded and exhaled.

Chapman Reynolds turned out the light and left.

Oksana pulled Pryn awake. Pryn's consciousness fought her all the way. Pryn squinted through sleep-matted eyelashes to note the moonlight coming through her bedroom window.

"What's wrong?" Pryn asked.

"We have important company," Oksana whispered. "Say absolutely nothing and do everything your father or I tell you to do, as soon as we say it."

"Why?"

"Don't start with me, Prinadlez!" Oksana shook Pryn by the shoulders. She meant business.

Daddy was in the living room holding Nick against his chest. Nick had dozed off into a limp-lipped lump. A man in a suit, almost as big as Daddy stood at attention. He regarded Pyrn with curious eyebrows. He stepped forward and touched Pryn's hair. She flinched backward. Daddy looked like he swallowed a bug.

"Pryn," Oksana hissed. "Stay still!"

"Not trained at all," tsked the large stranger in the suit. "And plenty old enough, Reynolds. What are you waiting for?"

"I've been traveling a lot," said Daddy.

"Prinadlez," said Oks with a big fake smile, "take off your clothes."

The strange man raised his hand. "This is not necessary. I can see the texture of her skin. I can see the gloss of her hair. Her chin. Her neck. She is raw, but she is beautiful." The man looked down at Pryn and smiled. "You can go back to bed, sweetheart."

Pryn looked at her mother. Oksana made sweeping "go away" motions with her fingers.

Pryn thought she was supposed to tell the room "good night," but her mother explicitly told her not to talk. Pryn shuffled back toward the stairs and up to her room. As she was climbing she heard the voice of the stranger say, "You are still one short of the price of admission, Reynolds. You must get busy."

FEBRUARY 2014

Marcus went a bit nutso when an A-list celebrity was in the club. Even if there had been zero buzz from the rest of the staff, Polly would have known that Ben Afleck and Matt Damon were up on the secure floor by the tell-tale bead of stress sweat that crystallized on Marcus's top lip.

But there was always a buzz from the club rank-and-file when royalty was upstairs. Matt and Ben wanted to be left alone. They wanted to play cards with their other buddies and guests. They didn't want girls to dance for them and they (mostly) pretended that they didn't want girls to flirt with them now that they had settled down into marriages.

The one thing they did want: Drinks. Perfect cocktails.

Polly Dawson was an odd outlier at the club. She was a little bit front-of-house and a little bit back-of-house. She started out as an underchef prepping appetizers. Then came the night Kevin Spacey's boyfriend asked for a drink called "The Bone" and threw a shit fit when he stumped the staff. Marcus asked the kitchen for help after Google failed him. Polly knew the recipe. After rescuing Marcus, she transitioned into becoming the anonymous bartender who mixed the drinks that made the celebrities say "Damn, this is the best fucking Manhattan I've ever had! What is in this? Who made this?"

If the kitchen was buried, Polly donned her kitchen whites and picked up a knife. If orders were slow, Marcus had her change into her formals and sent her to unlock the overflow rail in the back of the club.

The VIP lounge on the fourth floor had a dedicated rail stocked with obscure tequilas and rums, but if Marcus knew a celeb had a picky palate, he'd send the order downstairs to the KDS screen at Polly's dark station near the red lounge where the wannabe musicians and rappers liked to gather.

A few times Marcus had to push Polly into the VIP lounge, she having been summoned by important people who wanted to meet "the best damn bartender in the city." Polly always waved awkwardly and said thank you, as she folded in on herself. She was a shrinking violet with a gift for mixology and a demeanor too meek to hang out with oversized personalities. This only endeared her to a core celebrity clientele. They had all the hangers-on they could handle and Polly, The Best Damn Bartender in the City, was a mousy waif who didn't want anything from them.

The Afleck/Damon poker nights came and went, but their celebrity guests spread the word of mouth that Capprizino's was the place to get a quality buzz (and a lapdance from The Apple's most select) without having to wade through a bunch of needy star-fuckers. Marcus flipped-out and introduced his slapjack to the first paparazzi brave enough to camp at the valet entrance on the side of the club. Capprizino's had remained flashbulb free for almost a year.

"You see him?" Joanie was half whispering and half singing.

"No, but I heard." Polly rolled up her sleeves and fished brandy snifters from the wash tub and lowered them gently to the sanitization dip sink." Her corner of the club was so dark that KDS monitor and one blue LED rope behind the frozen vodka marble slab accounted for her only operational light. Polly could barely see her hand in front of her face when she came on shift, but her eyes adjusted as the night went on.

"I'm totally going to fuck him," Joanie whispered. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark backbar of RedRoom Two. She tried to read the label on a rum bottle by the trippy screensaver of the KDS monitor.

"Marcus is totally going to fire you if you try," Polly whisper-sung back.

"Does this say Mount Gay or Mahiki Gold? I can't see a damn thing. He asked for dancers," Joanie explained. "Brunettes. Brenda is trading out with me. I'm going to rub that thick cock against my tonsils before the night is over."

"Good luck," Polly muttered. "I know he's your celebrity crush."

Michael Fassbender was one of the few celebrities who both roommates agreed was sexy. Joanie had been obsessive about Fassbender ever since she saw him full-frontal in an indie movie called Shame.

"Can you fucking believe it?" Joanie asked, "And he's upstairs right now! If I get him behind the curtain can you catch the F-train home? I know you don't like walking all the way down to Sixth Avenue by yourself at that hour, but this is the chance of a lifetime, Polls!"

Polly clamped wet fingers on Joanie's elbow. "I'm not kidding, Joanie. Don't get fired. I can't carry rent by myself."

"Polly!" Marcus's close-quarters shout made both girls jump.

"Shit, Marcus!" Polly's hand draped over her cleavage.

"Sorry," Marcus said. "I'm a little stressed."

"Yeah, we know," Joanie said.

"What are you doing down here, Sheppard? I heard you were dancing in Brenda's slot. Get in the shower. You smell like calamari. You have dancing clothes in your locker?"

Joanie nodded.

Marcus looked about to make sure no patrons were listening. "I heard he's handsy. You okay with that?"

"Oh, I can take one for the team, I'm sure," Joanie smiled.

"Yeah," Marcus wrinkled his wide nose, "that's what I was afraid of. Mind your place unless he takes you behind the curtain. Either way, I get 30% of your tip or you don't go in."

Joanie gave a thumbs up.

"Good, get upstairs," Marcus said. "Polly, do you know how to make something called an Allspice Dram?"

"Of course. I can make it traditional, or I can use pineapple juice in place of..."

They both said "bitters" in unison.

"That's what he asked for," Marcus nodded. "You scare me sometimes."

"One of these days you're going to have to pay me what I'm worth to this club," said Polly.

Marcus raised his palms in frustration. "If you'd clean up a little and fix that hair, I could move you upstairs to The Premiere Room."

Polly smiled. "My regulars would miss me, and then where would you be?"

Marcus slipped behind Polly and whispered in her ear. "Hey, we've got a problem. I need you to cover the rail up in The Premiere."

"I told you, Marcus," Polly was nose-to-chest with the muscular black man, "that's not my scene. I don't need the whales and their incessant spew of bullshit talk and motormouth head games."

"I'm not asking," Marcus said. "I'm telling. Kristi just walked on us. I need my best girl to cover the room. Please, Polly. I need you upstairs behind the stick."

"Kristi walked? Why?"

"Not important."

"Marcus?"

Marcus took a deep breath. "Some of... Some friends of our featured guest got a little out of hand. They are a rowdy crew up there. One of them pinched her breast. She walked."

"Bullshit," Polly said. "Kristi gets her tit pinched every other night. It goes with the room."

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, I know. This guy --not Fassbender, one of his jagoff friends -- made it more than a regular grope. Kristi said he left a bruise. He's a dick. He got a talking to. But Kristi was steamed. She is either already to the subway or she's not answering her phone. Can you help me out? Please, Polly? Our featured guest was impressed with your drink. You should have been primary on the room anyway, if only so I don't have to keep running down here for refills."

Polly smiled. She was not happy, but she smiled for the room. Marcus was right, Michael Fassbender was charming. He pulled himself off the couch long enough to walk over and compliment Polly on the Allspice Dram.

His eyes dipped down and mapped Polly's chest for a brief beat.

"There was an ancient bloke at the public house where my da and ma worked in Ireland," Fassbender said. He cocked an elbow onto the bar and slouched his shoulder in a debonair slant as he held forth. "My da was a kraut and my ma potatoes. Whenever they'd get chuffed with one another, one of their epic blow-outs, the staff would scurry like mice until they reconciled. I was one of those mice, as you might guess. Anyway, this bartender bloke with more hair coming out his ears than he had on his pate, he'd make an Allspice Dram for my ma and my da. Bloody drink was the only thing those two could agree on. Something about the damn concoction was half way between Baden-Wurttemberg and Dublin. Always put out their fire and got them talking to one another like civilizeds."

"And you?" Polly asked. "How did you come to be a fan of the Allspice?"

Fassbender flared his top lip into a comical flap of a sheepish child. "Well I had to learn the magic before the old bartender kicked this mortal coil, didn't I? Somebody had to know the secret sauce or they'd likely kill each other one day. Now it just tastes like Christmas. I get in a homesick rut 'round this time of year."

"I'm glad you enjoy the drink," Polly said in her sweet-but-formal way.

"Bloody hard enough to find somebody who knows how to mix the dusty concoction," Fassbender said, "Bloody impossible to find somebody who will go the last mile and swap pineapple for the pear juice."

"Sweet is overrated," Polly winked. "Better with a bit of tang."

"Aren't we all, Luv?" Fassbender lifted his glass to Polly with a wicked smile and returned to his friends on the couch.

When the man leaned back and stretched his legs into a diagonal, Polly/Pryn realized why she had been attracted to him in the first place; He reminded her of Daddy. The chin. The high forehead. The swagger. Unlike Daddy, Mr. Fassbender's skin was a bit suspect under close scrutiny. And, while Mr. Fassbender was tall and fit, Daddy was taller and daddy was a brick shithouse of a man.

But there was a thing, a something that reminded her of Daddy. A twinkle in his eye, perhaps.

"WHOOOP! New set of tats!" The red haired asshole who Marcus had warned Polly about slapped his hand on the counter. "An' it looks like you've got an impressive set of torpedoes taped down under your top there. What thhhhh fuck is thah? Taping down perfectly good tats?"

All the front-of-house girls at Capprizino's wore a brassiere one cup size too small. It made for a sharp cleavage line popping from the Vee of their white shirts. Polly blinked patiently. "Sorry sir, but you know how it is. Wouldn't want to put someone's eye out if the girls busted loose. Can't be too careful. Another Old Fashioned, sir?"

"You're cheeky," the man slurred, squinting as if he were reeling from an insult. He was older and physically slubbish. His knit shirt came from a chain store and the weight of the mobile phone in the chest pocket created the illusion that he had one sagging breast. Not an actor. Not a contemporary of Fassbenders. He had to be an agent or a producer. Probably producer. Producers were almost always dicks.

"Las' cunt they 'ad up here coodn't take a fookin' joke. Cahn yew take a f-f-ffooking joke, Luv?"

"Of course, sir," Polly answered with a polite tilt of her head. "Where would you like to go?"

The man smiled. Then he stopped smiling and arched his eyebrows. "The f-f-fook yew just say t' me?"

Before Polly could riposte, the door opened and Charlene, one of the professional escorts exclusive to the club, strut into the room wearing thigh-high boots and a molded leather bustier that only covered her crotch and the front of her tits. The back was open, but Charlene had two rows of body piercing rings along her spine from her waistline to her shoulder blades. A black silk ribbon zig-zagged between the rings on each side of her bare spine in a laced-up manner that made it look as if it paired with the bustier around Charlene's front half. It was a mind-blowing effect.

Joanie swayed in behind her. She wore the Zatanna magician girl costume she had bought last Halloween, complete with fishnets and a starched white prop collar that served no purpose but to keep her sparkling black halter from inadvertently falling down to her navel. The idea that Joanie had kept that repurposed Halloween costume in her club locker for the last four months, just in case she got the chance to strip for a celbutard in The Premiere Room. It was hysterical. Polly covered her mouth with her fingers and tried to suppress a case of the giggles.

Marcus's muscle-buddy Kevin was security detail at The Premiere's door. He pointed Charlene to one of the dancing poles and Joanie to the other.

Mr. Fassbender and his nine horny guests watched the slut parade march across the room and assume their platforms. Polly's problematic producer craned his neck like a barn owl to follow every step.

Kevin pointed a meaty index finger at Polly and she pressed the play button on the music server under her bar. A dance-mix version of Craven's Promise Me thumped out of speaker towers near the two stages and Joanie's wrists crossed over her head while her hips popped to the bass line.

As if on some unseen, sitcom-quality cue, all ten men in The Premiere stopped looking at the dancers and turned back to their previous conversations at exactly the same time. Polly's redheaded pest turned his beady eyes back toward Polly and locked them into another long glare at her chest.

"Too bloody tall," said the man. "Fookin' Yanks and yer fookin' Amazons. Give me a lass a bit more compact. Compact and curvy." The man's tongue seemed overtasked with keeping his saliva behind his teeth and the shadow of it flitted wildly about his mouth. "I like the wee lasses with ample tat, like yerself."

Inside, Polly was still reeling with the shock of how abruptly the men had insulted Charlene and Joanie with their collective indifference. On the outside she maintained her professional smile. "Why thank you, sir. That is very flattering."

"Paul," the man winked.

Polly nodded politely. "Thank you, Paul."

"Looks like the boys'd rather see a real girl like yerself slip your knickers than these pitiful excuses for stretched-out trallopmuffs," Paul said.

Polly clinched her teeth. Her jaw muscle quivered with the words she couldn't say. Then she smiled. "I'm sure that was meant as a compliment, Paul. Thank you."

Paul's expression turned dark. "Doan y'fookin' patronize me, you haughty coont."

"Certainly not my intention, Pau-- Owch! Fuck!"

Paul's stubby mitt had locked into a vice grip pinch on the tip of Polly's left breast. "Wassmatt, luv? Not so high and mighty now, yer highness?"

Polly managed to keep both of her palms down on the bar. She didn't swat Paul away and she couldn't pull away from the determined pinch. Polly locked sightlines with Paul and willed any hint of pain from her face. Paul waited for Polly to react. She gave him nothing.

After a beat, Paul dialed up his insistence on a reaction by pinching Polly's nipple harder through her shirt and twisting his wrist sadistically. "Tat as numb as yer coont, Precious?"

Polly didn't blink. From her periphery she saw Kevin had assessed the situation from his station at the door and started for Paul with an angry look. Polly shot Kevin a glance and raised her palm to stop his approach. She looked back at Paul.

"How is it, Paul?" Polly asked. "Everything you wanted it to be?"

"I've had better." Spittle sprayed from Paul's slack jaw.

"Not damn likely," Polly said. "My girls are flawless. Perhaps your sample size is too small. Here, try 'em in stereo." She pulled Paul's free hand to her right breast.

Paul overcame a short staccato of surprise and clawed the new tit like a stress ball.

Polly's eyelid twitched with the pain, but that was all. She smiled. "Nice. Reminds me of how my little brother used to go at them when he was twelve."

The room had noticed Paul's overstep right away, but Polly had been too focused to realize it. Fassbender was already off the couch and quickstepping towards them when Paul dropped his grip on Polly's tits and slapped her across the face." Joanie and Charlene heard the crack over the dubstep music and stopped dancing.

Fassbender pushed Paul sideways. "Easy, mate! Fucking easy! Not sporting to break merchandise you 'aven't paid for!"

Polly blinked the shock away and waved her fingers to stop another advance from Kevin.

For his part, Paul snapped out of his fury and realized he had fucked up. He seemed more concerned with apologizing to save himself from Kevin than because he'd hit Polly. "Aw Christ, I'm in my cups, Michael. I'm a fookin' sot, I am. I better take it back to the hotel on me own."

"Yes," said Fassbender. "Do that before Tarzan there dishes the rest of us the leftovers from your proper thrashing. That's it, mate. On the morrow."

Kevin hooked an impatient hand under Paul's armpit and accidentally bounced him off the doorframe on their way to the elevator.

"Bloody sorry about that, luv," Fassbender said to Polly. "I'll make sure Marcus gives you proper compensation for my idiot compatriot."

Yeah, compensation minus thirty percent, Polly thought. "Don't sweat it, Sir," she said. "Happens all the time."

Fassbender looked her up and down again, his crooked grin fishhooked into something hungry, yet uncertain. "Frankly luv, while I don't condone his methods, I can't fault the man on his eye for talent. Your little punk-rocker meets girl-next-door thing has a definite allure."

Polly's eyes pushed over Fassbender's shoulder. Joanie and Charlene were yo-yoing their panties to their thighs and back up to flash their pussies. Their breasts were already bare and their nipples stiff with the insistence of February into the big room. The men took no notice of the bare vaginas.

Fassbender took Polly's look at the dancers as the question it was intended to be. "Oh they're fine. Beautiful lasses. Marcus always brings me what I ask for, but he doesn't always understand what it is that I really want. Whether it's an Allspice Dram with pineapple bitters or a shy bit of wee sexy with kaleidoscope hair."

"Sometimes it's best when things aren't overproduced," Polly said.

"Exactly," Fassbender said. "Wait, that wasn't a dig at Future Past, was it?"

Polly laughed.

"What's your name, luv?" Fassbender asked.

"Polly."

"Polly." Fassbender let the name move back and forth across his tongue. "Polly, supposing there was a price -- a dollar amount, as you Yanks say -- to slough your kit, Polly. Supposing there was a number that could move you to show the goods to me and my mates. Supposing you and I could come to terms. Then what?"

"I don't understand."

"What skills might a shy, nude Polly have if we pulled her out from behind the comfort zone of her bar station? Can you dance?"

Polly blinked. "I can dance for men."

"Well yes, luv, that is sort of the point, isn't it?"

"No. You don't understand. I didn't say that I'd dance in front of a bunch of Y-chromosome apes with dicks. I said that I can dance for men. I'm a girl who knows how to dance for men, but that implies that there are males in this room who even know what to do with a girl who knows her place. You know. Men."

Fassbender blinked.

"Anybody can admire a high-performance car," Polly said, "but not everybody can drive one. Do we have any drivers in this room?"

A lecherous grin took Fassbender's jaw and his eyes twinkled. "Get your clothes off, Polly."

"How much? What's your price?"

"Fuck you. This isn't a negotiation any more. Get your fucking clothes off, Polly. Your muscle is down on the curb pushing Paul into a cab right now and there is precious little to keep the rest of us from tearing into you like a pack of jackals on a prairie rabbit."

Polly nodded. This was a man who understood her. This was a man who was worthy to serve. Her chipped black fingernail polish was a stark contrast to her crisp white shirt as she popped her first button while looking Fassbender in the eyes.

OCTOBER 1996

Oks tilted the shiny credit card to reflect the kitchen track lights into Pryn's eyes. "Are you ready?" Oks asked. "We're going to put a hurt on Daddy's wallet today, you and me."

"Is Nick coming with us?"

"Nope. Not today. He's staying with Daddy. We've got an assignment from Daddy and he's our boss. We need to concentrate on the task at hand. Are you ready to shop until you drop, Pryn Reynolds?"

Pryn smiled.

"Here's another question," Oks organized her purse on the kitchen island counter. "Do you remember the dance I taught you? Our dance?"

Pryn nodded, "I'm the Only One."

"No," Oks looked up. "That's my song. I mean the Real McCoy one. Another night another dream and always you."

"We dance to both songs," Pryn said.

"Don't get offended, little one. We dance to both songs, but the fast one is yours and the slow one is mine."

"I don't understand," Pryn said.

"You will. We learned that dance for a reason. After we get back with our haul of new clothes, we're both going to model our new clothes for Daddy and then we're going to dance for him."

"Why?"

"Because we can only keep the clothes Daddy likes. The rest have to go back. So you better sell every outfit when you show it to Daddy or you'll lose it."

"I don't understand."

"I know. I'll show you what I mean."

"What about dancing? I don't understand the dancing."

Oks jingled her car keys, and tilted her head toward the garage. "When we show Daddy our clothes, at the very end we will show him our underwear that we are going to buy today, and when we are wearing the very last pair of underwear we are going to dance for Daddy. First you and then me. That's how Daddy wants it and that's what we're going to do for him. Make sure you take your dance seriously or you will get us both in trouble. My butt just recovered from the last time I pissed your father off and I'm in no hurry to see his bothered side again."

022014: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: I'm not getting this. This was some kind of fashion show or was it a strip tease?

A: Yes. Seriously, Mom must have bought me over fifty outfits that day and probably thirty for herself. She was buying outfits one or two sizes too big for me, so she must have been planning for another long stretch with Daddy either working or living with his other family. There haven't been that many times in this girl's life where I was exhausted from shopping to the point where I begged to quit and go home, but that day was one of them. Mom kept us marching from store to store. I remember we had to make a bunch of trips to the car just to offload our bags so we could go back and shop for more.

We came home and I crashed. I took an epic nap. Mom cooked dinner and then I made Daddy a drink. He went into the living room and sat in the big Queen Anne wingback chair. Another one of Daddy's thrones. He had turned all the lampshades so the bulbs were pointing toward the Persian rug in the middle of the room. All the shades were drawn and it was very dramatic. He assumed his Daddy Chair and bounced Nick on his knee with one hand while he sipped the Sazerac I mixed him with the other. Mom turned on a mix tape of upbeat songs she recorded off the radio.

Q: And then you walked the runway for your father's approval.

A: Exactly. Mom tried to teach me how to strut right toward Daddy. Then stop. Then put my hand on my hip and pop my breast, if I'd had any breast to pop. Then swoosh around and show Daddy my butt. Then a quarter turn where I stepped my foot out and smiled at Daddy over my shoulder. Then six steps away from Daddy and then a half turn back. Daddy would either nod or shake his head no. If he shook his head no, I had to take off the outfit and stack the clothes in a pile to go back to the store.

Q: Tried?

A: What?

Q: You said your mother "tried" to teach you how to pose. That means you didn't do it the way she wanted?

A: Oh. Right. No. Not at first. I kind of forgot what my mom said about "selling" Daddy on the outfits. I walked to the middle of the carpet and spun around aimlessly. I didn't pay attention to the music. I looked at Daddy and he scowled and shook his head no. After four or five time in a row of that, Mom shook my arm when I came back to our dressing room. She was pissed. "Watch me!" she growled. She ran through the poses with me one more time. "Now you look around the corner and watch how I sell Daddy on this outfit. Watch!"

Mom put on a dark grey pencil skirt and some sassy red pumps. She slipped on a baggy floral top that I thought looked ridiculous with the skirt. The blouse was too Springtime for the season and too casual for the pleats in the skirt. She walked out to the living room. I peeked around the corner and observed while she absolutely rocked it. She swaggered right at Daddy with a big, sexy smile on her face. Then she did the thing with her hand on her hip and popped her breasts forward. She swept around and swooshed her butt at him like a peahen trolling for peacock. She looked back over her shoulder at Daddy with a smoldering glare that was dripping with pure animal lust. She took her six steps to the center of the Persian and turned around and waited for Daddy with one foot back and one toe of the other shoe elegantly pointed into the rug. Daddy was practically drooling. Looking back from my adult perspective, Nick was probably sitting on Daddy's giant hard on. Daddy had a hungry look in his eyes. He smiled and nodded. Mom pirouetted and sashayed past me on her way back to our dressing room.

"Like that," she whispered.

Obviously I didn't have those kinds of swishy sex poses at six-and-a-half years old. But I finally understood what she meant about "selling" Daddy on my outfits.

I don't remember what the next outfit was, but I remember coming to complete stops and making very deliberate poses while I looked at Daddy's eyes with my interpretation of the sexy expression my mom used. I'm sure I looked ridiculous. I remember hearing the soundtrack music for the first time and timing my steps to stop on the beats, or the end of a phrase of lyrics. I counted out six steps and turned around and attempted another smoldering gaze at Daddy. He had a funny smile on his face. I thought he was going to crack up. But then he raised his Sazerac like he was making a toast and he nodded yes.

And that was that. I had earned my first swag from Daddy using my body.

Q: And your adult self realizes this was part of a grooming process that was wrong and messed-up, right?

A: Ha! Doc, the fashion show was the most wholesome part of the evening. I ran out of outfits and had to walk out and pose in nothing but pairs of panties Mom had bought in five-packs. I was too young for even a training bra. Mom was my adult counterpoint with matching bra-and-panty sets from Fredrick"s, but I was posing in nothing but little girl panties.

Q: And your father?

A: My father what? Oh, I don't think had a pedo response to me, Doc. I didn't look much different than Nick at that age. I was just the" what do you call the guy at a TV show studio taping who comes out and keep the audience charged up while they change the sets or fix the lights? The warm-up comedian? That's what I was. I was the warm-up tramp who filled in while Mom was changing into her next outfit. Mom was the show.

Eventually I was down to my final pair of panties and I did my dance for Daddy to that awful Real McCoy's song. Thank God that group came and went from popular music. I still cringe when I hear that song. I guess my dance was supposed to be sexy, but I didn't know sexy at six. It was merely a dance recital for Daddy.

Q: In your underwear.

A: Yep. In my underwear. Daddy smiled and nodded and clapped his hands at best he could around squirmy Nick, who was trying to get down and go play somewhere more entertaining than Fashion Central. I got mad that I was dancing my heart out and Nick was not only not paying attention, but he was distracting the paying customers, so to speak. When my song was over Daddy kissed me, told me to run and make him another drink and get back before Mommy did her dance. I did. Then I turned off the tape, put her CD in the boombox and pressed play on Mom's Melissa Etheridge song.

Q: The Only One?

A: Yeah. That is a fucking sexy song. It's got a stripper backbeat on it. A great seduction song. Anyhow, Daddy called me up on his lap and I sat on one leg and Nick on the other.

Q: Still in your underwear?

A: Still in my panties and no shirt. Most of the time, by bedtime I was supposed to be in an oversized T-shirt with no panties. Ironic that it was the opposite that night. Anyway. Out comes Mom from the hallway wearing a classic pinup sex kitten outfit: Garters clipped to fishnets. Five inch patent leather heels that were as shiny as polished obsidian. No panties, just a little tuft of her red-golden pubic hair. And a demi-cup bra that showed most of her big knockers. Including her nipples.

I got Mom's nipples. Big, pale pink puffies.

Q: That's not necessary. We should probably keep the minutia level to details that are a bit less personal.

A: That's what guys call 'em, Doc. Puffies. Torpedo tits.

Q: Okay. Okay. Moving on.

A: Little Nick saw Mom's bare tits and he thought they were hysterical. He laughed and pointed. "Boobies!" Mom focused on Dad. That woman could fucking dance. She had some kind of training but I don't know if it was formal dance instruction or if some other Russian hooker taught Mom geisha moves when she was a girl. But fuck! She was hypnotic.

Mom taught me her moves over my years as I progressed as Daddy's whore. As you might have guessed, that night was my first dance for Daddy, but it certainly wasn't the last. As I got older, the last underwear outfit I wore while I danced my feature song got trampier, and the evening ended with me down on my knees sucking his cock, not up on his knees.

One of things Mom taught me was that most girls dance from their hips and their necks. Mom showed me how to dance from my wrists and from the insteps of my feet. That sounds stupid, but it works. The hips and neck follow anyway. If a girl concentrates on her wrist and the instep of her foot, it elevates her sexymeter tenfold. Mom taught me that when you shake your ass for a man, the shake comes from this strip of your stomach here, right below your boobs. Crazy right? You control your butt with your high midriff? But it's true. If you think about here when you dance, it translates to being sexy here. It creates a countersway. That's what Mom called it.

And those wrists. Mom is tiny and she has really small hands, but her wrists are even smaller. Even though her hands are little, those Popsicle stick wrists of hers make it look like her hands are bigger than they are. Mom dances like her wrists are tied with a length of invisible elastic, like they can only ever be so far apart before the music forces them back together. She dances like her feet are either slipping into or out of a bunch of invisible empty shoes on the floor.

Daddy loved the way Mom danced and I can see why. It's electric to have a man spun up in a suppressed lust frenzy. When you are a submissive girl like Mom and me, that's the only real power you have: winding men up until it looks like their zipper is going to break under the pressure of their swollen cocks.

Daddy practically threw Nick and I into our beds that night so they could get busy.

"Oh my," Fassbender said as Polly's bra slid from her shoulders. "Those are an impressive set of mams, Polly. Jakey, are you seeing this?"

The men who had no interest in Charlene and Joanie all stared laser beams at Polly's tits. There were red marks where Paul had mauled them. Polly knew her own abuse physiology well enough to know that the purple on her left tit where Paul had twist-pinched would form in a corona around her pink aureole in an hour. She knew the pattern the purple blotches would take. Her right tit wouldn't bruise any more than the red handprint that was already visible, but that's the one that would still be barking sore when she dressed for tomorrow night's shift.

She knew these things as certainly as she knew the subway schedule.

"Those are something else," Jake said from his chair.

"Fucklot bigger out than they were in," said another man.

Fassbender nodded, "Our Polly here is a mysterious bag of tricks. She can have a Thomas hanging under that skirt and I'm not sure I'd give two fucks as long as she has perfect puffy tits like these." Fassbender's cold palms pressed into Polly's tit flesh and closed into pulsing clamps.

Polly/Pryn did not break eye contact. She pushed the zipper of her midi down her ass crack and pulled at the waist buttons until the skirt dropped into a limp black snood on the floor.

"Garters!" Shouted Jake. "So much for both punk rock and girl-next-door, Mike!"

"Did. Not. See. That. Coming," Fassbender said over his shoulder. The men laughed. To Polly: "You're quite the Girl Guide to be so prepared."

"I dress the way my mother taught me," Polly said.

Fassbender laughed. "I'm afraid to ask, but I think I will anyway."

"She's a housewife," Polly said, "in Louisville."

"Well isn't that just nine kinds of perfect. The panties, luv. They're thwarting the very fabric of my limited imagination. Lose them."

Polly fingered a roll of black lace around the curve of her buttocks and then moved them outside the garters with a quick flash of unclippings and reclipping to her pantyhose. Panties dropped on top of Polly's Jessica Simpsons. Instead of kicking the panties, Polly stepped out of her shoes and stepped onto the top of Fassbender's Cole Haan Venetians. Her hands reached up to lace behind Fassbender's neck.

"You going to dance with me, Daddy?" Polly asked. Indeed, standing in stocking feet on the tops of Fassbender's shoes, that's exactly the visual Polly invoked.

Fassbender's hands pushed around Polly's waist and mapped he globe of her ass cheeks.

"No, you're going to dance for Daddy and all Daddy's mates, luv," Fassbender said.

Kevin McMuscles and Marcus keyed back through The Premiere door at that moment. Marcus blinked rapidly, as if he had accidentally barged into the wrong hotel room.

"Anything for you, Daddy," Polly said.

The synth piano of Bruno Mars Young Girls crossfaded into the playlist with all the subtlety of a bank vault door clanking shut.

Polly danced with her insteps, kicking fouette spins that closed distance to the couch. She hopped on the glass coffee table. She allowed herself a quick glance at Joanie. Joanie returned a look that was nothing short of murderous.

Polly danced like her mother taught her. She zig-zagged back and forth between the couch and the coffee table with practiced choreography. While on the couch, she kicked one pointed stocking toe to the back cushion and leaned in-and-out with an S-wave that momentarily tickled Jake's nose with her honey muff hair. Then she was airborne back to the coffee table with an effortless jete into an a la seconde spin. Polly's ass cocked left. Then right. Then it took a hypnotic sway that pulled the rest of her torso into a tight flag ripple.

Polly looked over her shoulder. Marcus's eyes were huge. Kevin McMuscles absently rubbed the bulge in his pants. Polly sneered at them for no other reason than to switch to a sexy smile when she pointed her nose at the men circling her. They noticed.

Polly snapped into a handstand on the glass coffee table and flamingoed one pointed toe to the ceiling and the other leg bent into a perfect semaphore; an upside down pinup girl. Her elbows lowered into a press. Her heels kicked and snapped her entire body into a spring toward the handsome older man with blond hair in the padded chair. Her calves slapped hard into each arm of the chair and her hands popped down on each shoulder of the man. The move startled him. Then Polly spun her heels under her knees and pressed her tits into the man's face.

The room erupted in hoots and applause.

The man with the blond hair overcame his shock and latched an open mouth on Polly's nipple. Polly rolled her head around her neck and whipped her hair into a spin. She pumped up and down on her knees as if she were trying to escape the suction of the man's mouth but could not.

Polly looked up at the man in the Brooks Brothers suit standing behind the blond man's chair. With her palm she lifted her unsuckled tit and with her fingers she wiggled and invitation for Mr. Suit to lean over and take it in his mouth. He did without hesitation.

Polly arched her back until the tips of her hair brushed her stockinged heels and her nipples pulled out of the men's mouth like two champagne bottles uncorking. Polly sprang at Brooks Brothers, collided with his chest, and then spun around him as if her were a tree or a stripper pole. With both knees in his back and her hands on his shoulders, she launched over his head, catching the back of his neck in the crook of her knee. Polly's face bounced to a stop at Brooks Brothers' zipper; inverted again. Polly saw the gun in the man's waistband for the first time and realized he was Fassbender's personal security. She picked him because he looked like he had the frame and the rigidity to withstand her gymnastic move. She realized he would probably be the last one in the room receptive to having his cock pulled out of his pants.

Too late. She was committed.

Polly unzipped the pants with her teeth and waited for Brooks Brothers to protest. He didn't. Her little hand snaked between the zipper teeth and pulled out a thickening cock shaft.

Pryn was taken aback at the cock her hand unsheathed through the zipper. The shaft was thick and average in length. The cockhead ballooning to hardness was freakish; it was the size of a cat's head. Brookes Brothers' cock looked like an apple on a stick. It was the shape of cock that made girls cream from their pussies. Almost more fist than dick.

Hooting stopped. Clapping stopped. Polly thought she could hear the men gasp above the sound of the thumping speakers. Her index fingers ran up and down the sides of the cock while her upside-down tongue fluttered against the warm tip of Brooks Brothers' zepplin cockhead, rising to meet her.

"Trev, I hate to pull rank on you," said Fassbender, "but I think I'll take our Polly to the back room and work some of that surplus energy out of her."

Fassbender grabbed Polly by her waist and flipped her, stockings-down and onto the floor.

"Just you?" Polly asked.

"I'm plenty enough," Fassbender said.

"Seems like kind of a waste of girl, doesn't it? Just one man?" Pryn thought about how nice it would be to work a cock with her mouth while the engorged head on Brookes Brothers' prick ran roughshod over the g-spot in the top of Daddy's pussy. No wait... Her pussy. It had been so long since she had a man with the right equipment and the right know how to make her lose her mind. Never mind that the last man to make her black out with an orgasm had been her father.

"Chalk it up to the celebrity lifestyle," Fassbender said, taking Pryn's hand and walking her toward the beaded curtain. "We seem to exceed at excess."

Fassbender wasn't a two-pump chump, but then again he hadn't been a marathon fuck either. After a proper sucking that left Fassbender flexing his toes every time Pryn worked his cock head hard against her tongue, Fassbender had been eager to mount Pryn missionary so he could struggle to hump her while his mouth fascinated about her nipples. His height worked against him and he became a sliding abacus bead, sucking for a while and humping for a while.

Fassbender had some moves. He didn't just bang away and he didn't just grind. He had good sway that corkscrewed his generous cock head around every bit of Pryn's inner pussy. She had no trouble staying wet-and-ready for whatever came next... Which as it turned out was Fassbender. Pryn knew from the way he was trying to break his sight line from her face that he was tipping, trying to hold out a little longer. Pryn licked her lips and begged to taste Fassbender's come. That put him over the edge. He rocked her with six merciless thrusts and one final shouted expletive. Fassbender hissed through his teeth and wasted no time rolling off Pryn and making a quick inspection of the condom in the lamplight.

"Quite excellent, luv. As these things go, I suspect this will be one I remember for quite some time."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Luv, you've had my cock past your tonsils and quite a bit of it. Proper that you call me Mike, now."

"I don't know if I can do that," Pryn rolled onto her back and checked the tide of Paul's bruises on her nipples. "I'm afraid my Mom will drop out of the sky on a bungee cord and whack me in the head with a rolling pin."

Fassbender laughed. "Curse of the mannered class. I understand. I've done my part."

"And I've done mine," Pryn swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "Shit. My clothes are still out by the bar."

"Correction, luv," Fassbender said. "Not quite done yet."

"You wanna go again?"

"Not exactly. That bloke you were using for a bouncy castle earlier had the proper temerity to take Southampton over Arsenal a few weeks back when I was leaning toward 'mortal lock.' As such, I've got a wager to clear and I'm afraid you are the coin of the realm."

"Okaaaay?"

Fassbender pulled on his slacks and walked into the hallway that lead to the Premiere Room. A moment later he returned with his bodyguard.

"Took you long enough," said the man, pulling his zipper down. "Blondie. Floor." He pointed at the carpet in front of him.

Pryn slid into place at the bodyguard's feet with the grace of a wedge doorstop easing below an oak six-panel. She reached up to finish pulling out the bodyguard's cock, but he slapped her hands away hard enough to hurt the bones. "Just kneel, bitch," said the bodyguard. When I want something from you I'll fucking take it on my terms."

Fassbender sighed. "So, a redux of Antwerp then, David?"

"That's how I like it."

"Alright, Polly," Fassbender said, "I'm afraid you aren't going to like this, but a bet is a bet." Fassbender grabbed both Pryn's wrists from behind her back and pulled her arms up straight and locked her wrists together level with her shoulder blades. Pryn cringed at the wrenching pain of her shoulder sockets being lifted in the wrong direction. She leaned forward instinctively and the bodyguard was ready for just that. He thrust rock hard manmeat between Pryn's pain-slacked lips and jammed it hard into her throat. Pryn responded with a muffled retch of surprise. Fassbender kept her arms pinned high behind her while the bodyguard's fat cockhead crashed into her soft palate. The man fucked her mouth without mercy and for a very long time. By the time he finally creamed coffee-hot seed into Pryn's mouth, her breasts and thighs were soaked in her own bubbling spittle and there was a dark stain in the carpet underneath her.

By the time Brookes Brothers the Bodyguard took a step back and pulled his dick from between Pryn's teeth for the last time, it had slacked into a drooping mace. The saliva string tethering the blushing meatus to the roof of Pryn's mouth was as thick as a gather of stretched molten glass. Pryn gasped for breath and watched with fascination as air bubbles in the string of spit and sperm passed each other on their sticky crystal highway.

BBtB grabbed the base of his own cock and whipped it so the spit ribbon broke onto Pryn's flushed face.

The men zipped up and walked out of the club before Pryn could get her torture-numbed arms to respond to her brain and push her face up off the spit-soaked carpet.

And then -- after all that hostility -- Joanie was waiting for her. She and Marcus were the only ones left in the club by the time Pryn dressed and limped to the service door.

Marcus could tell Pryn had been worked over by the pained hunch of her shoulders and her swollen lips. "Are you okay?"

Pryn offered a weak thumbs-up. "See you tomorrow, Boss."

Joanie was much less empathetic. Joanie seethed through a clenched jaw for the entire drive home. She fumed.

They walked into their apartment at just past 4 a.m.. Joanie slammed the door behind them so hard that Pryn hopped in fright.

"You want to tell me what the fuck was up with that?" Joanie shook her finger in Pryn's face.

Pryn didn't have any fight left in her. She whined and her eyes went to exhausted slits. "What, Joanie? It's just a fucking job, right? We needed the money for Cozumel. He's not your boyfriend, he's a professional fake. And if it makes you feel any better, he's a sadistic asshole with a bunch of sadistic asshole friends. Count yourself lucky you weren't the one frogmarched behind the beaded curtain."

"This has nothing to do with Michael!"

Pryn slid her bags onto the kitchen table and dropped hard into a chair. "Babe, this has everything to do with Michael. And I can call him Michael because I sucked his cock. It's Mr. Fassbender to you."

"Fuck you," Joanie shouted. "Fuck you and your secret life bullshit. This isn't about you starfucking my dibs."

Pryn screwed her face in disgusted puzzlement. "Dibs? Is that a thing? Dibs?"

"Shut up. You know what I meant."

"Dibs? I haven't heard 'dibs' since I was ten."

"You think you know someone, but you and your secrets. You and your treasure chest of backstory bullshit. You and your Makayla Maroney dancing-flippty-fuck shtick! Nobody ever told me that my roommate used to be the featured act in Cirque du WHORE!"

Mr. Weinstein stabbed his floor with a broom handle, the way he did when the girls got too loud. Pryn and Joanie looked up at the plaster misting down from their ceiling. The girls followed the white cloud as it formed a genie between them, reflecting the red and green neon from the drug store neon across the street. They locked eyes.

Joanie took a deep, forced inhale and whooshed out a long, disgruntled exhale. She clenched her teeth. "Okay, I'm sorry I said that, Polly. Pryn. Whatever the fuck your name is today."

Pryn nodded sadly. "It's okay. I'm sorry I poached your dibs."

"Okay," Joanie softened another notch, "you make it sound stupid when you say it. It was total powerbitch when I said it."

Pryn crooked her mouth and pulled herself up from her chair. "Poached your dibs."

"Shut up. Okay, it sounded retarded, you win."

"Poached your dibs."

"Stop. I'm still mad at you."

"You love me."

"Yes," Joanie rolled her head around her neck. "I love you, circus slut."

"Good. Kiss me good night before I pass out." Pryn pecked Joanie on the lips.

"Your breath smells like his come."

"It's not his come." Pryn shuffled to her bedroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"You could lie to me. Spit in my mouth and tell me it's his taste."

Pryn waved her hand to Joanie behind her. "And I'm the whore."

"You kind of are."

"I kind of am," Pryn answered. "'Night, babe."

"You better use some of your trick money to buy me a nice gift on the cruise, whore."

"The biggest sombrero in all of Meh-hee-co. I promise."

030114: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: You know, it's kind of a staple of my business that the people on my side of the room let the people on your side of the room take the sessions where you think they need to go. Back in the nineties there was a lot more of us sitting here stonefaced at a healthy per-hour rate while our clients did or did not talk.

A: That can add up to some expensive silence.

Q: Indeed. These days we poke and prod and pull-the-conversation toward the relevant sign posts. As best we can. It isn't my intention to drag you through bad memories. But your benefactors only prepaid for six more sessions. I don't want to waste a lot of time when I think we're kind of dancing around the elephant in the room.

A: I thought you'd never ask. Yes, I changed my hair. Do you like it?

Q: [Laughs] It's very flattering. Much darker.

A: Yeah. It was such a mess that I had to have it professionally colored. It's a lot easier to paint over a bad dye job than it is to bleach it out. I'm just going darker until the hot oil can soften it up a little and it grows out. It was like straw.

Q: What prompted the change?

A: Longstanding peer pressure and new money.

Q: Did you change jobs? Get a promotion?

A: Just a big tip.

Q: Nice. As lovely as your new look is, it's not the elephant to which I was referring.

A: In other words, 'get to the molestation part.'

Q: Ehn. More like 'get to the root of this inexplicable power your father still has over you.' That's probably rooted in molestation, don't you think?

CLIENT NONVERBAL SHRUG.

Q: You said that the abuse played out in chapters. But so far the chapters haven't addressed the physical. Merely grooming behaviors. Did your father stay with your family more after the first dancing episode?

A: Well he was virtually nonexistent before that chapter of my life, so it seemed like he was around way more after the first dance. Too much. It wouldn't have been so bad if he had not been so angry with Mom all the time. But he was. He was always finding a reason to beat her ass. Now I know it was because he was hell bent on her having another child. Another girl. He had a plan, yaknow? He wanted five girls and one son. Nick was the son. Katrina had three daughters. Three evil little bitches. I was Daughter Number Four. Or... Daughter Number Two, technically. In the grand scheme of things. Mom was supposed to pop out one more, and she was way behind according to Daddy's time table. We were supposed to be grouped, you know. No stragglers. All approximately in the same decade age range.

Little did I know at the time that the big fight that sent Daddy away when I was four and Nick was three was about Mom's inability to have a baby. Or, I should say, her inability to have a girl. After Nick she had two more boys. Daddy made her abort both of them. That made Mom hostile and depressed. Again, I found all of this out late in life. At the time I had no idea. I did know that when Daddy returned home, he was fucking Mom nearly constantly. Every night I heard him grunting and her moaning and the sound of skin colliding in claps as they went at it. And after a while they didn't even make an effort to hide it. I'd come in from playing and Daddy would have Mom bent over the arm of the couch and banging away at her from behind; his big stallion thighs rippling with the power stance of the squat he had to maintain to fuck her tiny bottom.

Q: How did that make you feel? To walk in on them?

A: Embarrassed. At first. But then after the tenth time, it was just annoying. 'Get a room,' yaknow.

Q: You think it was by your father's design for you to walk in on them.

A: Naw. I really don't. I don't think it was grooming. I just think he didn't give a shit. If he wanted to fuck, then he wanted to fuck. There wasn't going to be any negotiation about where he was going to fuck or who needed to make sure the door was locked. He just wanted to fuck. A lot. Mom wasn't about to back talk the man. I mean, whenever my mom or me would get spanked, the rest of the family would watch. Had to watch, I guess I should say. Nick could keep his clothes on, but if it was Mom or me over Daddy's knee, we both had to be nude. So... Seeing Mom naked wasn't a big deal to me or Nick. Seeing Daddy naked was scary but that's because he was so damn imposing. He was imposing when he was dressed. When all I could see was a sneering stack of glistening, chiseled muscle working Mom like a determined machine, that was scary.

It was scary watching it in third person. It was extra scary when Daddy started fucking me. For a while. Then... You know how it is. You get it. I got it. Sex is power. Being deep-dicked by a good looking man who knows how to use his cock isn't the worst torture in the world. I could lie and pretend that I never let it sweep me away, or I never let myself orgasm, but I did. And I orgasmed more often than not. Sometimes I'd come two or three times in a row before Daddy finally finished, and those third orgasms... I nearly blacked out. My brain overloaded. That's my physiology, I guess. I tend to fight the first orgasm, but when after I succumb to it, it relaxes me. Then the second orgasm melts me. The third one... The third one destroys me. Like a fainting goat. My ears fry and the world goes white, then black. Nick and Daddy didn't like me passing out when they were still rutting me, but I couldn't help it. All I could do was fight that first orgasm and hope they didn't last long enough for me to quiver myself catatonic.

I read somewhere that good sex is like a snake wrapped around a field mouse, where the snake and the field mouse both agree they want to be there. Daddy was most definitely a snake and I was a field mouse. After a break-in period, I was a field mouse that kind of wanted to be there. Being consumed by a passionate man is very fulfilling.

Q: If it's a consensual act.

A: Ehn. Even if it's not. Really. Sorry. Sorry to shit on your narrative, Doc. Sure, being raped will fuck with a girl's head. But Daddy wasn't some masked bandit jumping out of the shadows. He was the patriarch. He was the money man. He was the boss. He was a known quantity.

Q: How old were you when he first molested you? Physically, not Sazeracs.

A: That's... That's tricky. It's not that cut and dried.

Q: How so?

A: Because... Because at first, it wasn't Daddy. It was, but it wasn't. Essentially, he gave me to Nick. And then he waited for Nick to break me down and do all his grooming dirty work. By the time Nick had me broken down and sucking and fucking him on a regular basis, it was easy for Daddy to teach me his rules and start fucking me and teaching me to suck his cock the way he liked it.

Q. You are very forthcoming about your relationship with your father. You mention your brother in passing. Rarely.

A:

Q: Polly?

A:

Q: Polly? Your brother?

A: Fuck him.

Q: Polly?

A: Daddy was what Daddy was. Nicolai... Nicolai... I loved that boy so much. So much. And he turned into a fucking monster. Fuck him. Fuck Nicolai. Being Daddy's fuck toy was like eight years of prison. There was a beginning, a middle and and end to it. I got paroled. Daddy is practically married to his fourth daughter now. Bella might as well be Daddy's third wife. She's obsessed with him. I guess the law of averages meant that if he had enough incestuous daughters, one of them would be into him.

But Nicolai... He's a different kind of prison. Being Nicolai's slave is a life fucking sentence. It's never going to end. Sooner or later, he's going to find me, and when he does, he's going to kill me. Then it will finally be over. Finally. I'll be at peace when I'm dead, finally. It's what Nicolai is going to do to me between the time he finds me and the time he kills me that makes me wake up sweating in the middle of the night.

MAY 2000

"Homework done?" Chapman Reynolds breezed past Nick and Pryn twisted into a yen-yang knot on top of the same oversized bean bag below the television.

Neither child looked up, but they answered in unison: "Yes, sir."

"Good. Pryn, stand up and get your clothes off."

"What did I do?"

"Are you sassing me, Bitch?"

Pryn resigned herself. "No sir." She folded out of the bean bag and stood, her shoulders slumped. She started breaking the buttons on her blouse from the top down.

Oks had been chuffing at Malcolm in the Middle from her end of the couch and reading an Entertainment Weekly. Without prompt she dropped the magazine on the coffee table, stood, and pulled the hem of her Louisville Cardinals T-shirt over her head. Had it been an hour later, both Oks and Pryn would have been wearing oversized T-shirts and no bra or panties. Daddy usually waited until they were already half undressed to pull out a bullshit reason that one of them was going to be spanked. (Ergo, both of them were going to be spanked.)

Chapman waved his hand at Oks. "No. Not you. Just her tonight."

Oks looked shocked, almost hurt that she wasn't going to be swept up in Chappy's show of authority.

Nick's eyes went back to the television. If Oks was naked in the room, sometimes he'd look at her breasts. Lately he was looking more often. But Nick was so used to Daddy stripping and spanking Pryn, he was more interested in the sitcom.

"Go kneel in the floor of Nicolai's bedroom."

"Yes sir." Bare-assed Pryn shuffled to the hallway and made the U-turn at the stairs. Her fingers squeaked around the newel ball. With one bare foot on the first tread, she froze. Cautiously, she hotstepped back to the living room. "Father? I'm sorry. Did you say Nick's room? Or my room?" Pryn was always spanked in her room when it was her Daddy infraction and in Daddy's room when it was her mother's Daddy infraction. She was never spanked in Nick's room.

"Nick's room."

"Oookay?"

"Girl! Do I have to carry you up those stairs myself?"

"No sir!" Pryn scurried upstairs.

"Pop?" Nick asked. Pryn heard him before she cleared the second story landing. She didn't hear her father's answer.

Pryn kicked Nick's dirty laundry aside and found an empty place on the carpet to kneel and await her father. After four years of being spanked nearly every week for small infractions and imaginary infractions, Pryn wasn't worried about the spanking, so much. She was worried about the change up. Why no Mom? Why Nick's room? Was Nick going to be spanked? Was Pryn's ass about to be a casualty of something Nick did wrong?

Not likely. Nick got away with murder. In four years, Nick had only been punished twice. Once for getting an F in World History and once for losing a fight to a bully at his school whom Daddy thought was too small to beat Nick. (On the other hand, Nick was lavishly praised for losing fights to older, larger boys.) Nick didn't get spanked on his butt over Daddy's knee. Nick's punishment involved having his wrists tied in a crucifix fashion to the tall footboard posts of Daddy and Oks' mahogany wheatpost bed. Then Daddy cut the back of Nick's shirt open with his pocket knife and peeled it before he caned Nick with the same long dowel rod that he used on Oks's behind and legs when he was really angry with her. Oks and Pryn were forced to kneel and witness the beatings. Oks bawled openly both times. Pryn would have cried too, but she was perturbed that her mother acted as if Nick were being murdered before her eyes while she never shed a tear during all the hundreds of times Daddy had blistered Pryn's butt with his calloused hands.

Nick entered the room with a quizzical expression. Daddy followed. With Daddy in the room, Pryn looked at the magic spot on the floor two feet in front of her knees, the way Daddy taught her. She listened. The door closed. Daddy never closed the door when he was beating ass. There was no need. There were no secrets between the prisoners of Reynolds' Penitentiary.

Pryn heard the bed squeak heavy and knew that it was Daddy.

"Son, park yer carcass. We need to have a father-son."

"Sure, Pop." The box springs squeaked again.

"Son, I'm going for a double deployment in Siberia in a couple weeks. It's going to be seven months before I'm back this way again. And... Well, I'm concerned."

"Pop?"

"No, you didn't do anything, kid. It's... Well, it's Verhagen."

Mr. Verhagen was the divorced neighbor that Oks sometimes called to fix things around the house or jumpstart her car's battery when Daddy was gone.

"Yeah?" asked Nick. "What about him?"

Daddy exhaled slowly. "You ever notice anything funny about him and your mom when he's here? You ever come home from school and they are in another room? Or maybe you come home from school and your mom mentions that he's been here during the day? Fixing something?"

Nick thought about this silently for a while. "No. I can't remember anything like that. Why?"

"Okay. Okay. Son, it's probably no surprise to you when I tell you that your mother is a fucking whore. A slut. I could fuck her ten times a day, and if I turned my back long enough, she'd have a regiment of sailors lined up to take another turn at my pussy. She's a pill. I've told your mother I don't want Verhagen in this house for any reason and I better not find out that she's ever been over at his house for any reason. And I mean any reason."

"Okay?"

"Son, I'm not going to worry about your mother whoring around the neighborhood while I'm out busting my frozen ass on the arctic tundra. I'm just not going to have it. I need you, Son. I need you to start keeping tabs on your mom. That means I need you to step up and become somebody I can trust to be in charge of your mom. Oh, don't look at me like that. She's your mom, sure, but you wear the pants around here when I'm not around. The day is neigh when you're going to tell your mom what to do, and not the other way around. Got it?"

"Uh, suuuure. I think."

"I'm going to give you the keys to Mom. You will totally own her when I'm not here. And I mean totally own her. When I'm not here, you will be me. You'll be the boss. Your job will be going to school and getting A grades, but other than that, you will be me. You'll tell your mom what you want for dinner. You'll tell her to scratch your back. You can't sleep in my bed, because it's my bed, but you can make Mom sleep in your bed, if you want. I've noticed that you seem to lock eyes on her titties when she's stripped for spankins. You can play with those titties. If you want. Not a requirement, or anything. Up to you. So's you understand that when I tell you that I'm giving you ownership of your mother, I mean complete ownership. Just while I'm not here. But complete ownership and... Listen up, Son... Complete responsibility. That means that if you tell your mom to do something and she doesn't do it, it's your responsibility to beat her ass until she does it. If you don't follow through on a directive, that's just you teaching her she can be a headstrong bitch. I've spent a decade whipping that sassy bullshit out of her. You are sure as hell not going to start spoiling her and screwing up my training. If you even get a whiff of Verhagen's aftershave in this house..."

"WOW! Really?" Nick was so excited Pryn could not stop herself from looking up. Daddy was handing Nick a box containing a cell phone.

"Hey Bitch!" Daddy turned his glare on Pryn and she looked back at the magic spot in the floor.

"My number is programmed into the Number One hotkey. This is a satellite, so I can get your call anywhere in the world. Reception can be a little spotty in Siberia, but we've got a booster. Just leave a message and when I get back to the compound, I'll get your message and call you back."

"Cool! Does it have games on it?"

Daddy sighed. "Son, I just gave you a big-titted bitch and you're busting my balls over some stupid phone games."

"Sorry."

"I dunno, kid. Read the box. Yeah, right there. 'Snake' and 'Rabbit Hunt.' It's got games. Sheesh."

"Thank you, Pop!"

"You're welcome. Don't fucking lose it. Your mother has been told that there is not one reason in the world for her fingerprints to ever be on that clamshell. It's yours and yours alone."

"Cool."

"Yeah. Now put that down. We need to get back to the big picture, Nicolai. Nick! Pay attention."

"Sorry."

"Two things you nee-- Nick! Pay attention. Two things you need to st-- Nick, goddammit, give me the fucking phone. Now listen up. Before I can trust you with one of my top two most prized possessions, there are two caveats."

"I don't know what that means."

"I know you don't know what it means, son. If you shut the fuck up, I'll tell you what it means. Jeezus. There are two... catches. Two tricks. Two things I want to see from you before I turn the responsibility of your mother over to you."

"What?"

"The first thing is the house budget. I'm going to turn my bank card and the checkbook over to you. I'll show you how to log household spending onto a spreadsheet. It's not hard. It's just basic math. But you won't ask your mom for money. She'll have to ask you. That will get her started on the road to respecting you. You don't have to give her shit, if you don't want. If you tell her that she can't have money until she stands on her head and farts the national anthem, then she better stand on her head and fart the national anthem."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, don't get too excited. I'm a man of many investments, so there's a limited amount of money you'll have to work with. The mortgage and the utilities are set up for pre-pay. But you'll have to balance the rest. That means if you spend all your money on a Playstation 2 and a bunch of games, there won't be any money to buy groceries and eat. I'm not going to bail you out, either. If you fuck up, you fuck up. If you starve your mom and sister, you starve your mom and sister. They'll have to eat out of a dumpster until my next deposit arrives, because I'm not sending you another dime. It's a big responsibility."

"What's the other thing, Pop?"

"Well that brings us to why your bare-assed sassy bitch sister is kneeling in the floor. Before I give you dominion over your mom, before I trust you with your mom, I want to make sure you are up to the responsibility. So I'm giving you the keys to your sister. From here on out, your sister is your responsibility. If she messes up, you spank her. If she fucks with me or shoots me her sassy mouth, I'm going to spank her and then you are going to spank her. Likewise, from here on out, she does whatever you say the first time you tell her."

Pryn's heart swooned. If Daddy meant what he said, life was about to improve dramatically. Nick loved her as much as she loved him. Her time spent ass-up waiting for an embittered paw to rain blisters down on her ass was about to diminish dramatically.

"What are you smiling about, bitch?" Daddy growled.

"Nothing, Sir."

"You like the idea of being traded to your brother?"

Pryn knew better than to lie. She nodded yes. Then before Daddy could bark at her for not answering verbally she said, "Yes, Daddy."

"Mmmm. We'll see how you still feel about that when I get back from Russia. Anyway. Nicolai, stand up. Bitch, get up on the bed for inspection."

Pryn launched into all fours, her feet hanging over the edge of the bed the way Daddy taught her. Daddy's familiar heavy hand went to the same spot in the middle of her back it always did when he inspected her.

"Like I said, you're responsible for her. From here on out, it's your job to inspect her after she showers and before she puts her night shirt on. Or any time you fucking feel like it. I like to do it when she's clean, after she gets out of the tub. You'll see why in a second. The first thing we check is the hair."

Daddy's hand swept upwards and tangled into the back of Pryn's hair, the way it always did. "Is it long enough? Does it go past this line where her bra strap is? Make sure her head is forward and not tilted back when you check. Bitches will try and cheat at every opportunity. Look at the hair. Is it glossy and shiny? Is it dry? That's important. Sometimes your sister won't dry her hair all the way before she goes to bed and she wakes up looking like a scarecrow. She's lazy. You have to watch her so she doesn't get over on you. Son, I'm telling you, if you give this one any slack, she'll walk all over you. I mean what I say. I won't have uppity bitches in my house. So... Is it long? Is it clean? Is it dry? You check it."

Pryn could barely feel the trill of Nick's fingers.

"Yep," Nick said.

"No, son! Get your hands in it. Get it between your fingers. Get a feel for it. Grab it and let the bitch know you're there. C'mon, man!"

Pryn felt Nick wrap his fingers near the back of her neck and tug hard enough to move her chin.

"What are we looking for, son?"

"Is it long. Is it clean. Is it dry."

"Well is it?"

Nick pulled, and then pulled Pryn's hair some more. "Yep. It's quite shiny. And dry. And long."

Of course it was long enough, Pryn thought. There was no way her hair was going to shrink in the bath and her mom kept it a good four inches longer than Daddy's minimum length requirement.

"Alright. While you have her ass-up, you come down to her ass. Spread her cheeks and check her rosebud. Look. Look at her asshole there. Is it clean."

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

Nick lapsed into stumped silence. Pryn waited for Daddy to stick the tip of his finger in her butt.

"You gotta check, Son. You pop your finger in and out. Just need the tip, really. Smell it. Does my finger smell clean?"

"I guess."

"It does or it doesn't, son. Does my finger smell like a finger or does it smell like ass?"

"I dunno."

"You want to fucking taste it son?"

"No!"

"What does it smell like?"

"It smells clean."

"Yeah." Daddy sounded surprised. "It actually does, doesn't it. Your sister is pretty good about keeping her keister clean, but you'll catch her with a dirty rosebud from time-to-time. Make sure you don't let it slide. If she's got a dirty butt, I'll show you where I keep the Fleets. You'll have to clean her up. On your back, bitch!"

Pryn had practiced the turn so many times she could execute it perfectly. She flipped like she had a skewer through her digestive tract. It was a cat jump and a rotation. She was instantly bouncing back into the bed and spreading her legs in the same spot where her hands and knees had been.

"When she's on her back, it's 'teeth, titties, twat, and toes.' Got that? 'Teeth, titties, twat, and toes.'"

For the first time Pryn saw how pale and uncomfortable her brother was. He was not having fun. He looked like he was going to hurl.

"Teeth, titties, twat, and toes," Nick repeated.

"Pull down her bottom lip with the same finger you used to check her ass," Daddy said. "Another reason for her to remember to keep it clean at all times. Then you push up and check the top teeth. Like that. Now you do it."

Nick checked Pryn's teeth the way Daddy showed him. Of all Daddy's probings, there was something about having a man push his big fingers in her mouth that left her feeling most violated. Nick's fingers were inexpert and unnecessarily stiff.

"Titties," announced Daddy. His hand swept down Pryn's neck and squeezed the flat muscle around one of her her flat, dime sized nipples. "You do the other one."

Nick did as ordered, but Pryn could tell that Nick was revulsed by the act and trying not to touch her at all.

"Twat. Spread it. Check it. Make sure it's not red and that she hasn't been frigging herself. It should be a nice whitish peachy color, just like that, see. You do it. Good. Now pull up and taste your fingers."

Both males sucked on their inspection fingers.

"Make sure it doesn't taste like piss or another man's come," Daddy said.

Nick nodded and tried not to gag. "It's fine."

Pryn wasn't entirely sure what come was and had no idea how it did or did not taste. Nick probably had no idea what come even was. He was only nine.

"Now check her feet. Clean. No toe jam. No stains on the bottom. Smell soapy? Yeah? Okay. That's it. Start at the beginning and tell me what to check when you inspect my women. Or I guess I should say 'your' woman."

Nick slowly recited back a close facsimile of all Daddy's inspection criteria.

"It's a good start." Daddy walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Nick looked at Pryn and lifted his palms in disbelief of what had just transpired.

Pryn sawed a finger pointing at the other side of the door. "He's still there." Pryn mouthed the words without saying them.

Nick looked baffled.

"Uh sir," Pryn said out loud, again pointing at the door. "Don't you think you should tell me to kneel in the floor again."

"Yyyyyeah," Nick slowly unraveled what Pryn was trying to communicate. "Get down in the floor, Please."

Pryn slapped her forehead and cringed. "No need to ask nicely, Sir. Just say what you want me to do." She pointed at the door with an even more furious pantomime.

"Right," Nick said. "Get down." He waited until Pryn was on her knees and then lifted his palms again.

Pryn panicked a bit. She pointed at her chest. Then she pantomimed soaping up her armpits. Then she pointed in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

The light bulb over Nick's head went off. "Oh! Yeah! Hey, go take your shower and GET READY FOR BED, Pryn!" Nick was practically talking to the closed door. Pryn shook her head in frustration and stood up. She heard footsteps vacating the hall before she opened the door.

Pryn did not startle when her covers moved and the mattress bounced. An arm came around her stomach and warmth pressed into her back.

"Hey," Pryn whispered. "You shouldn't be in here any more. I should go to your bed."

"You didn't. I waited for you and you didn't show," Nick whispered into the back of Pryn's hair. "I wanted to talk to you before it got any weirder." Nick squeezed a hug into Pryn's back and she sighed with contentment. For all the years that she had hugged and doted on Nick, he was now the one who hugged her. She loved the security of being held.

"It's official," Nick whispered. "Dad's gone crackers."

Pryn didn't answer.

"Does Dad really check you like that every night? Like you are a robot goat, or something?"

"When he's home."

"I'm not going to do that, Pryn."

"You have to. Don't get in trouble. You'll just end up getting me in trouble too."

"I'm going to pretend to do it when Dad is here, but I'm not going to really do it. That's gross. Not you, I mean... But sticking my finger in your butt? No way."

Pryn nodded in the dark for no one's benefit. "Okay," she whispered. "You know I would never tell."

"I know."

Nick kissed Pryn on the ear the way he always did, unintentionally too loud. Pryn didn't complain. Then he was gone.

Daddy never permitted Pryn to wear a towel or a robe as she walked from her shower to her room. Pryn was uncertain what the New World Order meant for her, now that she "belonged" to Nick. She decided not to chance it. She walked nude down the hall, slowing her gait past the door of Nick's room. He was on his bed reading a Duck Tales comic.

"Are we going to do this?" Pryn leaned around the door.

"Yeah." Nick tossed his comic onto his nightstand. "I guess we are. I was watching TV and dad started busting on me. 'Aren't you going to go check your sister?'" Nick imitated their father as if Chapman had a scratchy throat. "So. Anyway. Uhm. Come on in."

Pryn entered. Her close nudity made Nick visibly uncomfortable.

"Shut the door," Nick said. Pryn did.

"Uhm. Okay. We should wait like five minutes. You want an Archie Digest? It's new."

"Nick," Pryn said, "when Dad is here we should probably just do this. You never know with Dad. He has a way of knowing everything and finding stuff out. Just do it and get it over."

"Okay. Well, get up on the bed, I guess."

Pryn crawled to all-fours on the bed. In a matter of seconds, Nick lightly brushed his fingers into her hair and then swept a bashful hand down her back, around her butt, and to the backs of the her legs.

"Turn over," Nick said.

Pryn flopped on her back. Nick brushed her cheek, tapped her stomach, rubbed her knee, and grabbed her foot, accidentally tickling it. Pryn reflexively kicked and giggled.

The door flew open and both children jumped.

"The fuck kind of grabass is going on in here?" Daddy growled.

"Nothing," Nick said. "Inspection."

"Why is the door closed?"

"No reason."

"Then don't close it."

"Okay."

Nick remained rattled after his father left. Pryn stepped to her room to dress in a proper night shirt. She was counting the days until Daddy left the country and she would be done with him for half a year. The household could go back to normal and she could wear jeans again.

Saturday. The sizzling grind of power tools overwhelmed Pryn's reoccurring dream about playing Field Hockey naked in Phys Ed class. Her fog dissolved. The noise hissed; a drill. Then the tapping of a hammer. Then the slow, looping whir of an automatic screwdriver. More drilling. She tried to sleep through it, but then Daddy cursed and moved what sounded like a ladder outside her door. The drill sounded again.

Pryn rolled out of bed and carefully opened her door. At first she assumed Daddy was putting new light fixtures in the hallway. Then she looked closer.

"Why is the light bulb black?"

"It's not a light bulb," Daddy answered, reaching up to tighten the screw on a mounting plate. "It's a camera. Or rather, there's a camera behind the black glass."

"How can a camera see through the glass if it's painted black?"

"It just can."

"Why is it painted black?"

"So you and your mom can never tell exactly where the camera is pointing. The camera is on a motorized gimbal inside the mounting. I can move it to point anywhere I want using a computer anywhere in the world. If you or your mother attempt any shenanigans, I'm going to know about it."

"I don't think we are going to do anything stupid in the upstairs hallway, Daddy." Pryn rolled her eyes.

Pryn lay in her bed with her hands laced behind her neck. It was still afternoon, but Pryn couldn't stop staring at the black glass mounted to the ceiling above her bed. Daddy had put a camera in her room. In Nick's room. Mom's room. The foyer. Eleven cameras in all. They were everywhere.

If something had been going on with Mom and Mr. Verhagen, it was about to get a lot more complicated for those two.

Pryn didn't care about Mr. Verhagen. She cared about Daddy being able to watch her and Nick and Mom from Russia. She understood the consequences of the cameras, even if Nick hadn't figured it out yet. Daddy was never going to be completely "gone" from the house if he could watch his family any time he wanted from Russia, or wherever he had his computer.

In her short life, Pryn had never been as angry at anyone or anything as she was at Daddy and his stupid spy cameras.

With the camera bubble mounted to the center of Nick's ceiling, Pryn made Nick understand that he had to follow through on Daddy's instructions for her inspection. Nick's half-assed, quick once-over wasn't going to cut it. "Pretend" wasn't going to cut it. Still, Nick didn't poke Pryn's butthole and he barely touched her pussy. He did every thing else, more or less.

The night before Daddy left for Russia, Pryn stepped out of the shower to find her father waiting for her with an evil smile on his face. He held a shushing finger across his lips. Pryn looked at what he had lined up on the sink. It made no sense.

Daddy wiped the tears from Pryn's cheeks with a towel and told her that if she didn't stop crying he was going to give her something to cry about. It hurt soooo much. Daddy hurried downstairs to his office. Pryn could barely walk. She felt every sharp edge of it up inside her. It wanted to poop out, but Daddy had threatened to murder her if she did. Every step she took was a torture and she couldn't choke back a grimace.

She walked like a penguin to the door of Nick's room. Nick was waiting for her. Pryn tried to think of a way to signal Nick, but her eyes lifted to the smoky bubble on the ceiling. Daddy was certainly watching. There was nothing she could do.

Nick waved Pryn up on the bed. Nick checked her hair. He pulled it down Pryn's back to officially check the length. "Please please please, Nick," thought Pryn. But Nick's hand swept around the curve of her butt the way he always did. Nick ordered her on her back and she knew Nick was a goner. Nick checked Pryn's teeth, swept a palm over one of her nipples, down her stomach, and over the mons of her crotch. Nick pulled up Pryn's ankle and checked the bottom of one of her feet with a cursory glance.

The door opened.

"Hey champ!" Daddy said. Pryn cringed. Daddy was actually chipper knowing what was about to happen.

"Hey, Pop."

"Inspection?"

"Yep."

"How's she doing?"

"Fine."

"You're checking your sister carefully, right?"

"Oh yeah, Dad. I'm checking her good."

"Hey, you don't mind if I audit your inspection, do you?"

"I don't know what that means."

"That means you just said you checked your bitch sister carefully for cleanliness and properness. So I should be able to do another test and get the same results, right?"

Nick shrugged. "Sure."

"And I'm not going to find anything wrong? Right? Because you did a thorough inspection?"

"She's clean."

"Okay. Now talk me through this. I'm a bit out of practice. Where do we start?"

"You send her to her hands and knees, Dad."

"Right. Right. Why don't you do that? Show me how it's done."

"Pryn, up on your knees." Nick lifted his palm.

Pryn carefully rolled back up on all fours and drooped her toes over the edge of the bed." She stared at Nick's patchwork comforter and waited for it all to go wrong.

"What's next?" Chapman asked.

"Hair," Nick said. "'Is it long enough, is it clean enough, and is it dry enough.'"

"Right, right. I remember now. Yep, she's got some clean, dry, silky locks. And they are plenty long enough. Great. What's next?"

"Uh, I check her butt."

"Her butt, huh? You mean her ass?"

"Yeah. Her, uh, ass."

"Would that be her whole ass?" Chapman asked, "Or would that be her ass hole?"

"The hole."

"Okay, got it. I'll just poke a little finger into her pink an-- What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? I can't... I don't know... Son, what the fuck is this? Come here and check."

Nick's index finger probed Pryn's rectum. Pryn flinched at the pain and Nick froze. Daddy slapped Nick's hand away and then poked hard into Pryn's butt. "Bitch push," Daddy said. Pryn finally pushed. It felt like a huge relief to feel it start out of her bottom. Then Daddy yanked it out and it hurt even worse than it had when he pushed it in.

"Look the fuck at that, Nicolai. Look at it! Look at it! You were doing such a careful inspection that this little bitch of yours had a fucking banana up her ass and you didn't even fucking know it!"

031414: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: "Banana?"

A: Banana.

Q: There is no way an eleven year old girl could fit a banana up her rectum, Polly. I'm sorry, but that's absurd.

A: Not a real banana. The plastic ones. Little plastic ones. You know, the kind that come with cooking play sets for little girls? About yay-big? It was the plastic banana out of a toy box downstairs that I had not even seen for five years.

Q: Wow!

A: Fucked up, right?

Q: That's just awful, Polly.

A: But you get the joke, right?

Q: Joke?

A: The irony. The joke. The jest.

Q: What am I missing here, Polly?

A: Of course, I didn't get it until I was older and finally saw the movie.

Q: Which movie?

A: Beverly Hills Cop

Q: I still don-- Oh, Jesus Christ.

A: Yep. Dad got over on Nick with the "Old Banana-in-the-tailpipe Trick."

Q: Stop.

A: Don't laugh, Doc.

Q: I'm no-- Wait. This was a joke at my expense? You set me up.

A: If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'. That was Daddy. He wasn't beyond ripping my ass for a stupid joke that I would not even get until ten years later.

Q: You are serious.

A: Nick fell for the Ol' Banana-in-the-tailpipe Trick. Sadly. If you want to laugh, I won't hold it against you.

Q: I don't find abuse of a child funny.

A: Okay.

Q: So your brother got in serious trouble for the banana?

A: Yep. Dad beat him like a rented mule. Tied his arms to the footboard posts and waylaid him until blood soaked the back of his pants and he passed out from pain. Literally. Daddy made Mom and I prop Nicolai up until he came back to consciousness so he didn't suffocate from his stretched arms. As soon as Nick could stand on his own, Dad was back on him with his cane. Nick was a bloody mess. Mom and I had to clean him up and pour iodine on his bloody stripes. It scarred him pretty good. You can still see the scars when he takes off his shirt.

Q: Did the beating change Nick?

A: Fuck yeah, it changed him! You can bet that from that day forward he reamed my ass and spread my vagina and licked his fingers every night. Those damn cameras. Two months after Daddy was gone to Siberia, Nicolai was feeling his new power and fucking with me about something. I can't even remember what it was that we were fighting about that day, but he got in my face and I pushed him. He pushed me back. Same thing we always did. An hour later we both had totally forgotten about the incident. Later that evening I was lying in bed reading and I heard the Daddy Phone chirp in Nick's room. I could tell from the way Nick had the half-conversation on his side of the phone that Daddy was tearing him a new one.

Next thing I know, Nick is standing in my room. He tells me to get out of bed and stand up. He still had the open phone in his left hand. I didn't see it coming. I stood up and Nicolai slapped me in the face so hard that my knees buckled. I didn't know he could hit that hard. He slapped me so hard that the inside of my mouth cut against my teeth and bled.

The room spun. I looked up at Nicolai and he raised the phone to his ear.

"Don't you ever challenge my authority again, Pryn," Nicolai said. I could tell he was repeating what Daddy was telling him to say. I could hear the 'mwah wahn whan' of Daddy's voice, then Nick. "Bitch!" Nick shook his finger at me. There was no 'mwah wah wah' coming from the phone before Nick said it. That was all Nick.

It was the first time that Nicolai called me a bitch. That hurt way more than the slap. I can't remember the pain of the slap, but I still burn all the way from my head to my gut thinking about the first time Nicolai called me a bitch.

AUGUST 2000

"Pryn, get in here!"

Pryn looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was a little after one in the morning. She seethed.

She rubbed her eyes and shuffled her bare feet toward Nick's room. "What?"

"Get in my bed."

Pryn lifted the covers and slid in. Nick pushed her shoulder forward so he could snug up behind her in his customary way.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Pryn said nothing.

"I mean it. I'm really sorry I hit you, Pryn."

"Now I'm Pryn? A couple of hours ago I was just a bitch, right?"

"C'mon, Sis. You know how it goes. You know how the game is played here, right?"

Pryn went silent. Nick squeezed against her, pulling her stomach backward with his up-hand and stroking her hair with his languid mattress/pillow hand.

"You really going to hold a grudge? I said I'm really really really sorry."

"I know," whispered Pryn. "I know you had to hit me. I just wish you hadn't called me a bitch. It's bad enough when Daddy says it."

Nick tucked Pryn's hair behind her ear and his jaw pushed in against the side of Pryn's head. "Is that really the worst? It's just a word. Words don't hurt."

"If you say so," Pryn said.

"Come on, Sis. Cut me a break. Please? You want something from The Budget? I can probably get you something if it isn't a million dollars."

"No. Daddy bought me a ton of clothes when he was home and my bicycle is still good. And you can't buy me friends with Daddy's paycheck. So..." Pryn sighed.

"You've got friends. Pauline. Tammy."

"They don't talk to me any more. They think I'm weird."

"You're not weird."

"I can't have them over to the house. Not with the stupid cameras everywhere and Daddy watching every move I make. They said I'm stuck up and that I think I'm all that."

"That sucks."

"Yep. Having no friends sucks."

"I'm your friend."

"Used to be," Pryn said. "Now you're my boss. I can't be friends with a boss any more than I could be Daddy's friend."

It was Nick's turn to sigh.

"Hey Nick."

"What?"

"I don't say this enough, but you are doing a good job with the budget. I thought you were going to screw it up, but you didn't. Thanks for listening to Mom."

"You're welcome. Sure you don't want anything?"

"Can I get my own cell phone?"

Nick stiffened. "Uh... Dad said--"

"Yeah, I figured he wouldn't want me to have a phone. My CD boombox is a piece of crap."

"Done," Nick said.

"Okay. I'm going back to bed."

"Not yet. Besides, you're already in bed."

"Not my bed."

"You don't have a bed. All the beds in this house are either Dad's beds when he's home or my beds when he's not."

Pryn twisted to look at Nick in the moonlight. She stared at him to see if he was serious. He was not smiling. "Okay."

"Okay," said Nick, rolling flat on his back. "Hold my hand until I fall asleep."

"Hey Nick?"

"Go to sleep."

"Nick?"

"What?"

"Instead of a new boombox, could I get one of those new iPod players?"

Nick was silent for a beat. "Those are like three hundred dollars."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't hit you that hard. Go to sleep."

SEPTEMBER 2002

Pryn now felt the sexual tension in the room when dancing for Daddy. Daddy and Nicolai. Her breasts were budding and she had wisps of satin blonde silk growing along the sides of her vagina. While Pryn developed her dance routine to Nelly's Ride Wit Me, Oks walked in on her practicing and immediately put the kibosh on Nelly.

"Have you lost your mind?" Oks asked.

"What?"

"Your father is not progressive enough to appreciate his daughter dancing to a rap song."

"Oh Mom. This is as mainstream as music gets."

"It's not the mainstream quality of the music I am concerned about. Your father is a country pumpkin. He thinks Kenny Chesney is a heresy. Pick a different song before you get both of our asses blistered. Something Pop. Sexy, but Pop."

Pryn didn't have time to create a new dance so she looked for another song that had similar tempo she could use to recycle her moves. She danced before Chapman Reynolds (and Nicolai in the chair next to him) to the sway of Let Me Blow Ya Mind.

It never occurred to Pryn that she replaced one rap song with a different rap song. Both songs were Pop to Pryn. Daddy took no notice.

Pryn could see Daddy squirm and pull at the crotch of his pants when she rolled her upturned butt in a tight circle. Daddy had a different kind of smirk on his face when he watched Pryn. He paid attention, and not in a Daddy way. It was more like the way he looked at Oks.

For the first time, Pryn had a consciousness of her bare body. She felt her breasts move when she swayed. The attention of the males made her nipples stiff and sensitive to the cold breezes of the vent or the air conditioner. Her vagina became warm when it was exposed to the men of the house. Her nipples began to change colors, getting redder and pinker and plumper.

Oks performed the feature dance of the evening, beginning in a matching set of primary blue lace bra and panties with a sheer royal blue cami. By the end of her dance she was as naked as the day she was born. The bra was draped over Chapman's broad shoulder, Nick was rubbing the silk of the panties between his fingers and trying to mask his erection, and the sheer cami had been tossed over the top of a lampshade, giving the room a moody brothel halo in the center of the stellation of the remaining pointed spotlight lamps.

Nick had watched Pryn dance with rapt attention this time. She noticed. But Nick was mesmerized by his mother's dance. His hand kept dropping to readjust the erection in his shorts. After Oks crowned Nick with her liberated panties, Nick pulled them off his head and rubbed the panties against the fabric of his gym shorts, as if the silky friction could soak through to his weiner.

Daddy did not send the kids to bed. He waved Pryn to a spot in the floor near Nick's chair. He stood and shucked his slacks. Pryn had seen her daddy's cock before, more or less, but never as close. Chapman eased back into his throne/chair. Pryn could smell the musk of her father's massive ball sack. His cock was impressively aggressive at half mast. Chapman Reynolds reached down and cranked the meat below his cockhead until his prick stiffened to a curved corkball bat. He dropped it and it smacked against his etched stomach. Chapman flipped his fingers upwards and Oksana went to work. Her ass lifted off her heels and her hands pushed up on her thighs as her pink tongue flashed wet love over the base of Chapman's cock and his lifting ballsack.

Nick's eyes were huge and did not falter from the dance his mother's mouth did against his father's pole, not even for the span of a blink.

Chapman's eyes were slits and they seductively locked on the sightline of his nervous daughter. Chapman hinged his cock down so Oksana could slurp a wet suction around the crown, making an "o" with her lips. The "o" quickly became a capital "O." The capital "O" stretched into something physically impossible to take the circumference of Chapman's thick sex.

Pryn gasped out loud at the sight of how much of the shaft her mother could make disappear into her mouth. It seemed like a magic trick. It had to hurt Oksana in the throat, but she moaned like she was having the time of her life.

Chapman shifted his glance toward his son and Pryn followed. Nick's mouth looked dry as he watched his mother suck his father's big cock. His lips glued to one another and then parted like mozzarella cheese on a hot pizza; his eyes aching with lust at the spectacle of his father being pleasured by his beautiful mother. Nick's hand kept trying to rub relief into the bulge creeping down the left leg of his tight basketball shorts.

Nick was only eleven and a half, but Pryn could tell from the way he rubbed his bulge that Nick was aching to get a little of the attention his father was enjoying.

Chapman looked back and forth between his horny son and his available nude daughter, but Nick missed the hint. He didn't see Pryn, only his mother.

Chapman rolled his head a few times and pulled his cock out of Oksana's mouth. "Not bad, baby," he said. Chapman gave his own cock head a few circular twist-pumps of his fist and then held frozen for a beat. A moment later white jets arced into Oksana's open mouth, splashing against her teeth and lips, but mostly landing on her stretched tongue.

"Ew baby," Chapman said. He kept stroking after the semen stopped ejecting from his reddened meatus. "Nice little show, baby."

"Thank you. Sir." Oksana smiled a cummy show of perfect teeth and swallowed. She lashed her tongue over her babydoll lips to pull in the glistening spatters of near-misses.

"Oh don't be such a come whore in front of your son, Ox. Go ahead and clean me up."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" Oks smiled and her mouth latched onto Chapman's slacking cock with a slurp. She rocked her head and moaned a throaty thrum.

"Easy, whore! Jesus! Don't suck my balls through my dick. I need those."

Pryn's nosed twitched. She could smell the strong punch of her father's wet sex cream smoldering in the top of her nose. The smell was foreign and yet familiar to some dark folds of receptors in her lizard brain.

Chapman patted Nick on his knee so abruptly that Nick jumped. "That look like fun, Son?"

Nick nodded.

"Trust me. It felt even better. You can have a lot of fun with the girls when I'm not here. Unfortunately for you, tonight, I'm here."

Nick swallowed hard. Chapman's subliminal messaging was soaking through his skull. Slowly.

Pryn could not concentrate on what Mr. Sassle was saying about Magellan and Balboa and DaGama.

Her thoughts were a montage of competing home movies.

She couldn't stop thinking about how Daddy had stared at her while Pryn was dancing and especially while her mom was pleasuring him with her mouth.

Pryn was sure she could still smell her father's semen. The musky sharpness wouldn't leave her nose. It grossed Pryn out. Yet somehow her vagina kept getting warm when she thought about the way her father was posed in that chair while Oksana serviced him. All those muscles, and those crazy-wide shoulders, and that sculpted stomach of his with the manicured stubble of manscape fuzz making sexy shadows of fertility. Mostly Pryn kept replaying the way all that male energy and power was slack and melted into the chair.

Troy Walker asked her to the Fall Formal, as close to a real dance as eighth graders got. It was only ninety minutes of standing around in the cafeteria after school on a Thursday. The "formal" in Fall Formal meant "no jeans or tennis shoes." Not a problem. With Daddy either home or watching via camera, Pryn no longer owned a pair of blue jeans. Only skirts and gym shorts she wasn't allowed to wear unless she was exercising.

Daddy had also laid down the law about tennis shoes. Unless there was a good reason, Pryn had to wear at least a two inch heel or a high wedge if she was leaving the house. Ballerina flats or clean ankle socks if she was home.

The dress code to Fall Formal wasn't the problem. Asking Daddy for permission to go to the dance with a boy was a huge problem.

Troy Walker had the bad manners to keep getting more and more adorable. Even after they grew apart after Second Grade, Pryn never stopped thinking about Troy. She instinctively looked for him when she stepped onto the school bus in the morning.

His hair was dark and curly and much too long for a boy; over the back of his collar. Daddy would take one look at Troy and throw him out the front door by his belt loops. He was the polar opposite of her short-shorn blond brother. (Okay, not total opposite. Nicolai was cute too. For a brother.) Sometimes Pryn eased herself to sleep thinking about riding on the back of a motorcycle that Troy Walker was driving.

And then the son of a bitch had the temerity to corner Pryn on her way from Fundamentals of Ceramics to World History and ask her to the Fall Formal. Out of flippin' nowhere! Not six words in the last six years and then... Blamo! The nerve!

"Shit."

"Ms. Reynolds? You have something to add?"

Giggles. Mr. Sassle was looking at Pryn. Cold terror poured down her face as she realized that her daydream cursing had spilled out of her real life lips.

"I'm... I didn't... Uh..."

Mr. Sassle smiled and winked at Pryn. "Yeah. I don't know what fetid planet you are circling, Ms. Reynolds, but try and work your way back to Earth and our discussion of circumnavigation of the Third Rock from the Sun. Okay?"

"Sorry."

Mr. Sassle flipped Pryn a "Don't Worry About It" wave and thumbed a new slide on his PowerPoint.

"SHIT!" This time Pryn only thought it. "That was close! Pay attention, girl."

But then Troy Walker's smile bled through a projection of a map of oceans and colored arrows. His floppy dark bangs obscuring Libya and Egypt. His dimpled chin South Africa. Madagascar a blown kiss, or perhaps a confident whistle.

Her heart thumped a little harder against her sternum.

And then she heard the sound of Daddy's power tools again. She had awakened earlier that day to Daddy screwing eye bolts to the top corners of her headboard and footboard. Then he moved on to Nick's room and installed them there. Something new was afoot. Something new and probably bad for Pryn.

That was the reason she could not blurt out an emphatic "YES!" to Troy's question. Daddy was home and Daddy was up to something. She was forced to placate Troy the Boy with a "Can I think about it?" Translation: "Can I have some time to think of a way to sneak this rendezvous past my keepers?"

Daddy would not tell Pryn why he was putting hardware on her bed. Not good. Not good at all.

It didn't take her long to find out.

Pryn knelt naked on the carpet of her room.

"Do not lose this," Chapman said. "I mean it. Do not lose this. This is the only one you're going to get." Chapman handed Nick an ornate key threaded through a silky yellow ribbon loop. Nick could wear it around his neck. "You can't duplicate these at Home World. They aren't that kind of key. They're custom. I have one and you have one. Both of our keys work the same lock, so I can access your sister's drawer and you can access your mother's drawer if you need to."

Nick nodded.

Chapman pulled his key from his pocket. It was on a similar ribbon, but red and worn. Daddy walked to Pryn's dresser and stuck the key in the keyhole that Pryn had always assumed was strictly ornamentation. A latch popped and Daddy pulled out the drawer Pryn always assumed was some kind of fake. Pryn watched this unfold from the corner of her eye, careful to not get caught looking away from the magic spot on the floor in front of her.

"Whoa," Nick said.

"I've stocked this with everything you are going to need."

"I don't even know what half this stuff is, Pop."

"I know. That's why I'm here, son. To teach you how to train your own women. I don't want to have to do fucking everything around here. There are many rooms in my mansion, and I've got lots of bitches to tend to. I need some help. We're going to start with your sister. Then you can start helping me take care of your mom. Then I've got some southern ladies who are chomping at my bits to meet you. But we're going to start small. Grab those restraints and strap them on your sister's wrists and ankles."

"Which are which?"

"The bigger ones are for the ankles, dumbshit. C'mon. Use your head."

"Okay."

Nick had Pryn lift her arms so he could buckle a pair of elegant leather wrist straps under her tiny hands.

"Ow!" Pryn protested.

"Son, not that you need to give a flying fuck about your sister's comfort, but there's a happy medium between strapping them on so loose that she can slip free, and ratcheting them so tight that you cut off circulation to her hands. Look. Her cockstrokers are already turning purple. Ease up a notch or two. Yeah there you go. Test 'em. Good. She can't slip out of that. Good. Now wave her up on the bed. All-fours or on her back, whatever."

Nick ordered Pryn to her inspection pose. Nick struggled to fit the leather cuffs around Pryn's ankles. "They don't fit!"

"They may be a little large for her stick legs. She'll grow into them." Chapman slapped Pryn's ass. "Trust me. She's going to grow. There you go. That's fine."

"What next?"

"Go ahead and pin her collar around her neck. She might as well start getting used to it."

Nick pulled out dozens of Pryn's hairs as he struggled to get a matching leather dog collar oriented around her neck.

"It's got your name etched on it," Nick smiled at Pryn.

"It's a custom. They are twenty times more expensive than something at a pet store, but it should last her a lifetime."

Pryn wondered if Daddy had the collar made, which name was etched on it? Pryn? Or bitch?

"Lock the loop-thingy there with this little padlock. Good. Again, you don't want to lose the key for that padlock, so get in the discipline of putting the collar lock right back in her toy drawer. Yep. There you go. Now strap the velcro around the lock so it stays in place and doesn't flop around and catch on the leash."

"What leash?"

Pryn heard a chain jangle.

"Oh. Okay." Nick clipped a heavy dog chain-and-leather leash to the collar around her neck.

"You don't have to hold it, son. She isn't running anywhere. Not just yet."

"Kay." The chain pooled into a puddle between Pryn's hands.

"This next part is totally optional, Son. Up to you. Some guys like talkers and some guys like to teach their girls to shut the fuck up. Just remember, if you are going to use it, it's a five step process. "Ball. Adjust. Tighten. Ball. Tighten again.' Open your sassy yapper, bitch." Chapman stepped to the side of the bed closest to Pryn's head. His hand shoved a plastic ball in her mouth.

"That's the ball. Tighten the first strap. And the second."

The pressure of the strings at the corners of Pryn's mouth cut into her. She screamed in pain. Or she tried to. A high pitched vibration came from her nose.

"Now you think it's done, but it's not, Son."

Chapman yanked Pryn's hair hard, lifting her hands off the bed and hinging her up on her knees Nick stood next to him. "You gotta adjust it one more time. Take your thumb and push it back in her cockwasher until it seats and seals. See? Like this. Now you do it. Yeppers. You got it. Now run your fingers over where the rubber hits her teeth and make sure it seals good and tight. Yeah. That's good son. You hear her breathing through her nose? That's how you know you did it right. Watch this."

Chapman pinched Pryn's nostrils shut. Pryn immediately panicked and tried to suck air past the plastic-tasting object filling her mouth. It was too big. Her eyes went big in panic. Chapman released her nose. "See. That's how you know." Chapman smacked Pryn's ass very hard. Pryn squealed, but it all stayed in her jaw. "Perfect," Chapman smiled. "Just keep your eye on her. If she snots up or has a cold or if she pukes, she's going to die. Don't kill your sister. Killing your sister is bad."

"Got it."

"Again, the gag is a matter of preference. Me? I think a girl crying and screaming is music. You're new to this, so maybe you want to shut her up. Up to you, Son."

"She looks wild."

"Yeah. You have to chose between pretty hair and no gag or messy hair and silence."

"Cool."

"Bitch, on your back," Daddy barked.

Pryn flipped over.

"Knotcraft is overrated," Chapman said. "It's old tech. These quick release bungies work a lot faster and better than ropes. Strap her to the bed with these and she'll stay strapped." Seconds later Pryn was spread eagle, each of her limbs stretched to a corner of the bed where her Daddy had mounted the eye bolts. Chapman Reynolds tested her bondage cords by plucking each and listening to the tension make a "thwungungung" sound. "She's got a touch of play, but that's more for you than her. If you ever want to fuck her, the flex in the QRBs will give you some stretch to get her knees apart when you are between her legs. With ropes you have to retie. Ropes keep a bitch in place, but you're always untying and retying. It's a pain in the ass. She doesn't have the strength to pull any meaningful stretch into the QRBs. Not for more than a second or two. These are great."

"Got it."

"Sure?"

"I think."

"Unclip her and lets run through this part a couple times, so I know you got it before we move on. Immobilizing her is an essential part of your new chore."

Pryn was trussed and untrussed, gagged and ungagged. She ran a circuit of floor and bed, fours and missionary; so many times she lost count.

"So here's the deal," Chapman announced. Pryn was on her back, strapped and stretched into an X. "Five nights of every week, you are going to cup your sister's tits until they outgrow the cups. Then I've got bigger cups."

"Cups?"

"Vacuum cups. You see how big and perfect your momma's knockers are? That's because she was cupped when she was Pryn's age. Now, you can go online and read a million assholes on the Internet telling you that cupping can't make tits bigger. And they are right. Cupping can't make grown women's tits bigger. But while titties are growing, cupping makes all the difference in the world. It stretches the tit meat and lets fats and proteins get in the tissue. A little at a time. If you cup a developing girl on a regular basis, you can add one or two cup sizes to her grown up knockers. Your momma is a ninety pound woman with thirty-six inch monster mams. Cupping. It's going to be your responsibility to cup your sister every night for at least thirty minutes. Until she gets used to it, you're going to have to strap her down. She's not going to like this. Her little nubbins are tender and this is going to make them sting, even after the cups come off. Don't worry. She'll get used to it. It's not torture. She'll thank you when she's turning heads with a mouthwatering set of twins filling out her sweater. "

Pryn watched her father fish a small plastic flask out of his front pocket. "This is your mother's concoction. It's mostly linseed oil, with some olive oils, some vitamin E, and some other girly shit she puts in there to make it smell nice. Lavender I guess. Here, smell this."

Nick flexed his nostrils over the pour spout on the container.

"I keep it in my pocket to warm it up. If it's cold, it works against what we are trying to do here."

"What are we trying to do here, Pop?"

"I'll show you. Here. I'll do this tit. You do that one. I dribble just a liiittle dab on the nip. Like about that much. You do yours. That's probably too much, but too much isn't a problem. It's just hard for your mom to wash oil out of the sheets. Okay. Now we rub and work the titty until it warms up and gets nice and aroused. Nice and firm. See? See her little turkey timers start to pop? You got it. Now work the whole tit. all the way to the edges. When titties are small like this, it's hard to see exactly where they break, but you need to know to position the cups. Good. Work those tits, Son."

Pryn was not prepared for her breasts to tingle. Daddy worked her nipples expertly, while Nick squeezed too hard. The way Daddy alternated back and forth between the tip of her nipple and her outer boob had a hypnotic way of sending pleasure ripples through Pryn's thighs and back. If Nick had not been working against the pleasure with his ham-handed, sharp pinches and awkward groping, the molestation would have been pleasurable.

"There we go," Chapman said. "She's ready. Just so we can practice this part, though, there may be times when your sister is pissed off or not concentrating. Or maybe she's just hard headed. Her tits may not firm up. Here's what you do. You get a splash of slippery oil on your fingers. Like this. Then you rub it into the pussy, like this."

Pryn trashed against her bindings. Her fathers oily fingers swept over the nerves at the top of her vagina. (Daddy's pussy. Nick's pussy.) Warm electricity bubbled up her bare sides and splashed against her armpits. The top of her scalp vibrated under the strapping of the gag. She grunted through her nose. Chapman laughed.

"Didn't need that oil, did we, slut? She was plenty ready to have her clit frigged."

"Pop?"

"Wha?"

"What's a clit?"

Chapman sighed. "Don't they teach you anything in school, Son? She's got a little button at the top of my puss. Your puss. Look. See this little fold of skin? The clit hides under it. At least until it's ready to play. Then it starts popping out like it is now. Rub it. Go ahead. Whew! See your sister thrash like that? Look at those eyes. She's loving that. Girls don't even know they have a clit. It's all pussy to them. Like they don't know the difference between an alternator and a starter. It's all car to girls. They like the lips and hole rubbed a little, but it's mostly about the clit. Don't fumble down there in the cave too much. Down here, that's like what it feels to rub your balls. Good, but not great. The clit is the tip of their cock, so to speak. It's where the magic happens."

"Jesus, dad. Look at her twitch! Look at her squirm! You sure that doesn't hurt her?"

Chapman smiled. He pinched Pryn's chin between fingers slicked with pussy and oil. "Does that hurt, girl?"

Pryn shook her head no.

"I didn't think so. You better not let me catch you rubbing that pussy, girl. It's not yours to play with. I've got infrared on those cameras. If I see the sheet moving south of those tits, your brother is going to get a phone call and you are getting an ass beating. Got it? Onto the Main Event son." Chapman pulled a couple of translucent bubbles from the secret drawer. "That linseed oil, in addition to making the titties swell up and helping you with the placement, it also makes for a good seal on the cups. You have to position the cups exactly concentric to the tit meat. not the nips. Got it? Don't place them with the nips in the middle. Nips are always a bit off center. Place them so they are perfectly around the circumference of the outer tit. That's why we massaged them. To make 'em pop so we can see 'em. Got yours? Yeah. That's perfect. Good job, son. Now you hold it down and keep it in place with one hand. With your other hand you clip on the bulb apparatus like this. See where it fits in the valve? And I give it a couple pumps to suck the air out of the cup. Aaaaand. See there. See the titty filling the cup?"

"Wow. It's bigger than I thought," Nick said. "Her nipples are huge!"

"That's an illusion. Here. Can you clip-on the pump one-handed? Keep the cup positioned. I don't want a bitch with lopsided titties. Neither do you. Hey! You got it!"

Pryn looked down at her chest nervously. Her breasts were swelling to fit the cups. She felt the tightness of pulling skin and the sting of tender breasts held prisoner of hard suction. But it was bearable. Barely.

"Now that you have the cups placed, go ahead and give it seven or eight more pumps. Stretch those titties for all they are worth."

Chapman applied the pump to "his" breast and his palm folded into his fingertips over and over while the rubber bulb on the valve panted and hissed. Pryn's eyes bugged. The pain was searing and unbearable. She tried to scream through he ball in her mouth.

"See," Chapman nodded at Pryn's efforts to thrash. "That's why you strap her down first. That's why you might want to use the gag." Chapman brushed Pryn's hair from her forehead and kissed her. "If it makes you feel any better, girl, it'll only hurt like that for a couple weeks. You'll get used to it."

Nick pumped the air out of his cup and cold pain burned Pryn from her neck to her knees. She could not bear it for another second.

"Check your clock, Son. Thirty minutes. See the little pins here. That's how you let the pressure out of the cups when the time is up. If you don't do that, Superman couldn't pull them off. Over here in the drawer, this cream is pure Vitamin E. You can rub it on the tits after the cups come off. It'll help her skin deal with the swings in elasticity. Or she can do it herself if you are busy. It's in her best interest to make sure it gets done, one way or the other."

"We do this every night?"

"I'm not going to say anything if you only get to it five or six nights a week. No less than that, though. But I understand if you have shit going on in your life and you slip a day every now-and-again."

Nick lifted another vacuum tube out of the secret drawer. "What is this for, Pop?"

"That's for her clit. You can vacuum stretch her clit and swell it up. Makes it really sensitive. She'll hate it when you put that tube on her button, but she'll looooove it when you pop it off and rub her down. If she's a squirter, you'll find out when you rub her freshly suck-stretched twat."

"When do I use this?"

"Whenever you take a notion to, Son. But be warned: You're making her into a slut when you use it. Be prepared to keep that pussy maintained and faithful once you wake it up. The clitty cup is real good for punishing a girl. It's also a handy way to wear a pussy out, if you think she's shaking her tail for other guys. She's your responsibility, remember Champ? If she's running around on you that means she's running around on us. I don't have to tell you what's going to happen to you both if I find out your bitch is running around on us. Keep a thumb on your bitches."

"I've got to pee," Nick said.

"Whatever. Just make sure she does the full thirty. You don't have to baby sit. She's not going anywhere."

"Cool."

Alone in the room, Pryn grunted in unbearable pain and twisted her head to look at the illuminated numbers on a digital clock that would. Not. Change.

MARCH 2014

Pryn looked at her clock. It was after two in the morning and Joanie was not back from her night out with her old college roommate; A nice midwestern girl from Oklahoma. Kelli.

Pryn could not sleep until she heard from Joanie.

She pulled her phone off the charger.

Pryn lie in the dark with the phone on her chest. Finally a vibration.

Pryn smiled and clicked her phone off. "Space ship" was their code word for safety. Joanie was particular about her men. If she went home with a guy, she had to know him. Joanie and Francois broke up last Halloween when they got in a fight about one of Francois's male roommate's girlfriends walking through the flat naked. Francois wasn't outraged enough to take up the issue with his roommate. Joanie was outraged enough for both of them. One spitball of hostility bounced back as a bowling ball of issues, and that ricocheted as a boulder of passive-aggressive fury. Words were said that could not be unsaid.

Pryn was happy her friend was getting laid. Joanie was less caustic when she was being cock rocked on a regular basis.

"Hey babe."

"Hey, Polly. What are you doing up this early?"

"I slept well. No nightmares for a change."

"Therapy is helping, isn't it?"

"I think so."

"Whoa that smells good. The fuck, Polly? Omelets? For me?"

"Yep. The coffee is fresh. Have a seat. I've got your favorite cup."

"You are the best roommate."

"No. But I am nationally ranked. I want the deets on your hookup. Somebody I know? I'm guessing it was Clay, the Zagat Writer. Clay?"

"No. Clay's hair smells like dog fur. I can't fuck anybody who smells like a Bichon Frise. No, not Clay. One-nighter."

"You?"

"I know. I know. I'm a hypocrite. This dude was bangin', though. He's in finance. Drives a SuperBee Challenger."

"Charger. SuperBees are Chargers."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was a Challenger."

"If it's a Challenger it had to be a Stinger."

"That's different than a SuperBee?"

Pryn shrugged. "Not if it doesn't make a difference to you. The production run on the Stingers was smaller."

"Oh. I don't know what that means."

"It makes the car even cooler and more expensive than you thought it was. Enough about the whip. More about the boy."

Joanie sighed and pushed her fork sideways through the steaming omelet. "He was out of my league. It was crazy. I'm telling you, Polly. Fucking underwear model sexy. And smart. So Kelli and I were at The Onion in Tribeca and..."

"What were you doing all the way down there?"

"She's a tourist. We were touristing. At fourteen dollars a gimlet, we were touristing. So this guy does the slide, right. Before I can do something stupid like give him the shoulder, I notice Kelli melting into a puddle of goo. I take a second look and I can't blame her. Hawt. So, he's all chatty and suave and shit. I thought he was macking on Kelli. Which made no sense, because she's like... You know."

"She's sweet."

"She's a hog. There. I said it."

"Joanie!"

"I love her, really I do. But if her Spanks ever rip she's going to inflate like a fucking life raft and smash somebody's face against a cab window." Joanie illustrated this tableau for comic effect. "But Kelli starts rubbing his leg, right, and dropping hints that it's time for bed."

"At least she's a closer."

"But instead he paid her cab back to the Econolodge and kept chatting me up. And he had some game, Polly. I swear. He was up in my ear, growling dirty talk. I came on his fingers in the cab on the way to his room at the Bryant Park."

"Whoa! Whoa! Hold the phone, Joanie! A TSM? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Jesus goddamn mercy. What did you put in this omelet, Polly? It's the second best thing I've had in my mouth in the past six hours."

"We had some smoked gouda that was about to evolve into a higher life form. I picked up some fresh cilantro and grass-fed sausage at the farmer's market yesterday to make spaghetti tonight. Plenty extra for breakfast."

"Holy wow, this is good. To your point, he didn't have a tan line for a ring. I checked his wallet while he was in the shower. No wife pics. No kid pics. Which probably explains a shitload of Benjamins in the folds. I think he was legit." Afterthought: "He did have pictures of his car. Is that weird? That's weird, right?"

"Does 'he' have a name?"

Joanie sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter, does it? Mr. Goodfuck. Mr. Buy-some-batteries-for-the-vibrator."

"Your vibrator plugs in."

"Polly! You snoop!"

"What snoop? You've left it on the coffee table like three times, slob."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

"You fall asleep after you orgasm just like a guy."

Joanie opened her mouth, but checked herself when her phone rang. She pulled it from the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie and examined the number. "I don't know who this is. Area code is out of state. Probably MasterCard."

"I paid your MasterCard."

"Really?"

"They stopped sending red envelopes and started sending your statement taped to a live badger. I used some Fassbender money."

"Thanks, baby! So who is this calling?" Joanie thumbed the call. "Hidey-ho, who this be, yo? Oh hey. How'd you get my number? I did? Well.. No, I've got a minute." Joanie pantomimed stroking a cock into her jaw, stretching her cheek with her tongue for effect. She started for her room and turned back to grab her plate of eggs. She smiled and gave Pryn a thumbs up. "Yeah, I had a great time too."

SEPTEMBER 2002

Pryn dropped her book bag on the counter. "You're home."

"Yep." Oks pulled plates from the dishwasher and rubbed them dry before relocating them to their home in the cupboard. "Where else would I be?"

"The car is gone."

"Your father took it."

"Can you run me by the library when he gets back?"

"You might need to take your bicycle. Daddy's going to be gone with the car for a while. Perhaps as long as a couple weeks."

"He took our car to the airport?"

"It's his car, Pryn. He paid for it. And no. He just took it out of town."

"Out of town where?"

"The business of the man-of-the-house is not for proper daughters to worry about, Prinadlez."

Pryn was worried about it. If Daddy was out of town, she had a chance to accept Troy Walker's invitation to the Fall Formal.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"Nothing."

"Your eyebrows are doing that thing. Something is wrong."

"Again I say, 'Not for proper daughters to worry about, Prinadlez.'"

"Mom, c'mon. What's going on? Where is dad?"

"PRYN!" Oksana turned on Pryn with the snap of her neck.

"Sooorrr-reee. Sheez. See if I act like I care."

"Pryn, stop. Come back here. Please. Pull up a stool. I guess it's time we clear the air about some things. When your father is away, he is not always away on an assignment. Your father has... Your father has other interests. Oh, why am I bullshitting you. Your father has another family. Another w-- Another woman. Other children. You have step sisters. Three of them."

Pryn opened her mouth but all the questions made a log jam in her throat at the same time. Nothing came out of her parted teeth.

"Katrina." When Pryn finally spoke, it came out as a whisper. "He said that name the time you gave him a blow job in the airport parking lot."

Oks clenched her jaw and nodded. "When I tell you to be a proper daughter," Oksana continued, "this is why. We share Daddy's time. I do not want Daddy to be at his other house, so we should have the best home for him. The best. Your father loves you and you brother very much."

"He loves Nicolai," Pryn said flatly.

"He loves you too."

"If you say so."

"Prinadlez, your father's other daughters, in New Orleans... One of them is older than you. Two of them are a little younger than you. But... How do I say this? They are all more advanced than you."

"More advanced? Am I a retard and nobody told me?"

"No no no. You are not stupid. You are the smartest of all of us. Including his other wi-- woman. I'm trying to tell you that all Daddy's other daughters, they are proper daughters. They love your daddy. A lot. And more... physically."

"What are you saying?"

Oksana took a deep breath and steadied herself with both palms on the counter. "Prinadlez, you know we aren't like most families. You know daughters don't dance sexy for their fathers in most families. You know there is not all of the discipline and spanking in other families. Your father... Your father is a good man. He saved me, Prinadlez. He saved my life when I was just a little older than you are now. I am very lucky to have Daddy as my man. You are lucky to have him as your father. I made a deal with your Daddy back when I was in Russia. I made a contract with him. He has kept his end of the contract."

"You made a contract with him. I did not," Pryn mumbled.

"I know. This is very true. This is why your father has not... pursued you. Physically. Beyond your discipline. That was part of his contract with me. If you are... If you give your father sex... Let's just stop fucking around and say it... If you give your father sex, that is the contract you make with him. But there's a cost to not making your own contract with Daddy. You already see this. What you said about your father loving Nicolai and not you. It's not that he does not love you. It is that you seem to not understand that he wants to love you. He wants to love you as much as his other proper daughters, but you aren't giving him any reason to make him think that you love him."

"Mom, like I can stopped him from sexing me if I wanted to."

"You are not understanding. You don't want him to. You have made it clear. Crystal clear. This is why I am home alone. Because Katrina has proper daughters and I have you!"

Oksana pressed the dish towel over her mouth and cried abruptly and violently.

Pryn squirmed. Acidic guilt bubbled in her throat before sliding down to her stomach, burning as it dropped. Her face flushed.

As her mother wept, Pryn's eyes leveled on the smoky bubble mounted to the kitchen ceiling. She thought she heard a motor whirring.

SEPTEMBER 2002

Daddy was right. The cupping got easier by the day as the tender skin around Pryn's breast buds learned to stretch to the suction. Afterwards her breasts would throb while Nick greased them up with Vitamin E, and for as long as an hour after that. Nick didn't miss a single day of his cupping duties. He didn't leave Pryn alone in the room, either. After the fifth night, he left the ball gag in the drawer. He also sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Pryn's leg while she was trussed into a cross of Saint Andrew.

Nick had a fascination with the shape of Pryn's breast while they were under suction, and after they first broke suction and kept their stretched form for a time.

"You want me to read to you while you're stuck there?" Nick asked. "Pass the time?"

Pryn shook her head. "Thanks, but no. This gives me time to think."

Nick's rubbing hand circled closer to his pussy. "What are you thinking about?"

"School." It wasn't a total lie.

"Oh."

"Hey, I know this is a little early," Pryn said, "But Mrs. Farmat asked if I could stay after next Thursday after school and help her prep some dissection trays for class."

"Mrs. Farmat? Is she the one with the..." Nick tapped his cheek where Mrs Farmat's oversized mole stuck out.

"Yeah."

"Whatever. I don't care."

"Okay. Well I have to ask because, you know... I'm yours."

"Yeah," Nick said. His fingers slipped in and out of the folds of his pussy, testing her. Pryn flinched. "You are. You're mine. Thanks for asking before you committed." Nick shifted and readjusted the erection in his pants. "How are you going to get home?"

"Activity bus."

The land line rang downstairs. Pryn looked up at the bubble on her ceiling. "Dad's watching us."

"So? I'm doin' what I oughta. So are you."

"Yeah."

Nick's eyes went to slits and he breathed through his nose. One palm was everywhere on Pryn's thigh and the other one squeezed shamelessly at the erection in his pants.

"Six more minutes," Pryn said. She was trying to distract Nick from his creepy, roaming eyes.

"Mmm." Nick nodded.

The rapping on Pryn's door frame startled both children.

"Nicolai, can you please help me," Oksana asked. She was already in her night shirt.

"Sure, whatcha need, Mom?"

"Do you have any of that Vitamin E lotion left in Pryn's special drawer?"

"Yeah."

"I am out and I need some more. I'll make another batch of lotion tomorrow, but my dry skin cannot wait."

"Help yourself." Nick tilted his head toward the dresser.

Oksana shook her head. "I am not allowed to touch anything in that drawer. Don't get me in trouble with your father. Can you please just rub some lotion on me?"

Oksana hooked her thumbs into the hem of her night shirt and whipped it over her head. She was completely nude. "On Daddy's titties, please? The skin is very dry."

Nick's lips went thin and he swallowed. "Uh, okay."

"Don't skimp, please. I need vitamins deep in my skin. Daddy likes his titties soft and supple."

Nick nervously squirted a handful of goo into his palm. He came toward Oks and froze at the last minute.

"Don't get it on the carpet, silly boy! You're dripping!" Oksana pulled Nick's wrist the last four inches until it connected with her puffy right tit. "There you go. Now rub it in good. Oh that is nice! Can you please use both hands, they are very big boobs. Yes. Yes. Just like that. That feels wonderful."

Pryn could not believe her mother.

Nick was absolutely hypnotized at finally making time with his mother's incredible rack. Oks helped, laying the moans and encouragement on with a trowel.

"Hey. My time is up, Nick," said Pryn.

"You can keep a few more minutes," Oks scolded. "If that is alright with you, Nick. You're the boss. It just feels so nice to get my big, sexy, titties rubbed."

Nick nodded. He was breathing heavy and the tent in his pants was almost at a right angle. "She can wait."

"Good. Goooood. Yes, son. Just like that. Pinch the nipples. Oh my, it feels wonderful. Nice-nice-niiiiiice. You have great hands, just like your father. Good. You're going to make Daddy's pussy drip if you keep that up. Whooooa. Fantastic. Daddy's nipples are sooooooo hard and needy. Thank you. That will do. Here, kiss me."

Mother and son kissed on the lips.

Oksana turned on her heels and left, leaving her night shirt in the floor and swinging her ass.

Nick was flushed red. He watched Oks until she bounced down the stairs.

"Nick!"

"Yeah, yeah. Hang on, dang it."

A minute later the cups were put away and Nick unstrapped the leather cuffs.

Nick started to pull at the velcro that secured the lock on Pryn's collar as her legs swung over the side of the bed. He stopped and looked down at his bulge.

"You have to do anything I say."

"I know."

"Stay on the bed."

"Okay."

Nick stepped in front of Pryn and waited a long, nervous beat. His tongue seemed to not know where to go in his mouth. His eyes flitted all over Pryn and then looked away. Then back.

"Pull my pants down."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Nick, wait." Pryn imagined Nick's phone ringing, followed by another cold-cock slap across her jaw. "Come here. You just caught me off guard, okay. I'll do it."

Pryn took a deep breath and then pulled the elastic away from Nick's stomach and then down. Nick's pecker was a lot smaller than Daddy's and hairless. But it was red as a June turnip from his little ballsack to the tip.

"Give me your hand," Nick said. He pulled Pryn's fingers onto the middle of his meat and then closed them into a squeeze. "Do that. Harder."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

Nick shook his head. "Feels good. Real good. Move your hand up and down. Like that. Holy crap. Yeah, Pryn. That's good like that."

Pryn looked from the flushed warm penis in her hand to the flushed face of her brother. He looked like he was going to pass out. "Trade places. Sit on the bed and I'll kneel in the floor like Mom does to dad."

"Okay." Nick looked relieved.

Once Pryn was eyes to eye with Nick's swollen penis she tested it with her fingertips. She mapped the texture of the skin. Her hand closed and she began a slow pumping. Nick's head hinged back and he gasped. Pryn marveled at how hard and soft Nick's penis was at the same time. It was like stroking a cat's tail. Only warmer.

"Faster," Nick said. "Rub it faster. Faster. Yeah."

"Like that?"

Nick moaned.

"Like that, Nick?"

"Oooooh god, that's..."

"Is that how you want me to rub it?"

"Shut up, willya? Jeez. I should put that ball back in your mouth!"

Pryn froze. She flushed with humiliation and tears started to well up in her lower eyelids.

"Don't stop, Pryn! Crap, I'm sorry okay. Just rub. Like you were doing a second ago. Oh, don't cry. Pryn! Okay, just forget it. Never mind!"

Pryn had nowhere to run. They were in her room. She ran to the bathroom, slammed the door, sat on top of the closed toilet lid and cried.

Nick flipped the light on. Pryn was still awake. When Nick did not take off the collar, Pryn knew he'd be back. He was back.

Nick keyed into Pryn's secret drawer. He spooled out the leash. Nick clipped the chain to the D-ring on Pryn's collar. Pryn sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Crawl." Nick pointed to the floor. He looked angry. He looked like Daddy looked when he was bossy. "Get down like a dog."

Pryn dropped to her hands and knees. Nick marched to his room, firmly pulling Pryn along behind him on the chain lead as she clunked as fast as she could on all-fours. Nick turned Pryn's light off as he left the room. He looped back into his room. He made the turn so quickly that he pulled Pryn's shoulder into his door frame.

"Ow! Slow down!"

"Don't tell me what to do," Nick said. He sounded more like Daddy with each passing minute. He pulled the chair away from his desk, shucked his pajamas, and sat down. "Rub!" Nick pointed to his engorged member with gun fingers.

Pryn's tiny hand picked up where it had left off hours before.

Nick turned on his desk lamp and pointed the bulb at Pryn.

"What are you doing?" Pryn blinked.

"I want to watch you while you play with me."

"Okay."

"Shut up and rub."

Pryn's hand worked up and down Nick's hard dick in small sections. His member got red again. She could also see Nick starting relent to the pleasure she was giving him. His harsh expression went slack.

In a small way, it made Pryn feel powerful to turn her brother's angry male bossiness into breathy moans and a slack jaw. She could tell he was enjoying every second of her stroke. Beth Fossberg had talked about stroking a boy's hard cock once in the dark hours of a slumber party. Beth called it "giving a handjob." Pryn could not wrap her brain around the reality that she was giving her own brother a handjob.

"Can I please say something?" Pryn asked.

"What?" Nick's head bobbed back and forth half a beat behind Pryn's stroking rhythm.

"Your weiner is bigger than I thought it would be. I mean, it's not as big as Daddy's. But for eleven, I didn't expect it to be so big. I can almost put two hands on it."

"Go ahead and try."

Pryn tried to stroke Nick's dick with two hands. It was harder than she thought it would be. She tried pinching the head with fingertips of one hand while her power hand stroked low on the shaft, the heel of her hand pushing into Nick's tight nut sack.

Nick sucked hard between his teeth and his feet skipped in a jig.

"Sorry," Pryn said. "Did that hurt."

"No no no. Do it again. More. Don't stop."

"You like that?"

"Yeah. Oh, Pryn. Damn. Oh. Ohhhh."

Pryn smiled. She was finally doing something right. She could tell.

"Oooooooh yeah. Move the fingers around a little more on my dick hea- AWSHIT, like that yeah!"

Pryn could feel the blood pulsing through the rock hard penis in her grip. Nick's backbone began to sway.

"Doanstop!" Nick whispered through slitty eyes. "Yuuuuh. Doanstopdoanstopdoan --- OooooohwwwwWAH!"

"What?"

"Stop! Don't touch me! Let go. Stop stroking! Get your hands off! Jesus!"

"What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

Nick folded forward as if he was going to hurl. He panted. His eyes were unfocused and irregular. "I don't know," he panted. "Something happened to my dick."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to get Mom?"

"I don't know. No. Hang on. It's a little better. I think."

Brother and sister watched Nick's red penis droop and return to a fleshy shade.

"Did you come?" Pryn asked.

"I don't know."

"I don't think you did. Nothing came out of it. When daddy comes, baby sperm shoots out."

"You talk too much."

"Okay. Can I go to bed now?"

"Yeah. Go."

Pryn stood.

"Wait! I changed my mind." Nick tested his wobbly knees and stood. "Get in my bed. I want you to sleep with me."

"Why?"

"So you can do that stroke thing again tomorrow when I wake up."

"Okay. Will you take my collar off?"

"No, but I'll take the leash off. There. Get in my bed."

"Can I pee first?"

"Hurry back."

Pryn had slept with her brother hundreds of times, but never nude. Sometime during the night, Nick rolled into a spoon behind Pryn and reached around to cup her tit bud. (Nick's tit). Pryn noticed their coupling was warmer than she remembered. Nick was still naked as well and all that skin-on-skin smoldered. It was nice… to a point.

Nick's cock hardened in his sleep and poked Pryn's butt cheek. Nick was growing, but Pryn was still three inches taller when standing. Nick's wiener prodded Pryn near where her butt became her back.

When Nick wasn't sleepmauling Pryn, she dreamed deeply until the alarm buzzed.

Nick slapped the top of the old clock radio. Pryn craned her neck to look at the numbers and then startled.

"Dammit!" Pryn threw her feet over the edge of the bed. "Why did you set your alarm so late? I've only got twenty minutes to get out the door!"

"I only need ten minutes," Nick mumbled. "Where are you going?"

"I'm a girl! I need a lot more than twenty minutes to get ready! Don't you know anything about girls? C'mon. Wake up." Pryn put her weight behind her palms and shoved her brother. "Get up! Take the collar off. We're going to miss the bus and Mom doesn't have a car to drive us."

"Mmmm. Okay. Hang on."  Nick stretched his arms up the headboard and kicked the sheets off his legs. His penis was hard with morning wood. "C'mere for a minute."

"Nick, we don't have time."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Sis. I said to come here."

Pryn eased closer to the mattress and Nick's arm hooked up around her waist and pulled her on the bed. He was deceptively strong.

"Nick, stop farting around. I have to get dressed."

"Rub." Nick pulled Pryn's hand to his penis.

Pryn fumed. Her face warmed with frustration. Her hand locked around Nick's meat and pumped fast.

"Yeah," Nick sighed. "A little higher. Higher. Ouch. Lower."

"Make up your mind."

"It's sore. You rubbed it too hard last night. Okay. Try higher again. Ouch! Crap. That burns. Lower."

"Nick, for the love of god. Higher or lower?"

"I want higher, but it hurts."

"Mom's coming up the stairs." Pryn pulled a top sheet over their nudity.

Oks looked around the door frame. "Cutting it close, you two."

"Mom, can you look at something for a sec?" Nick asked.

"Absolutely, Nicolai."

Nick pushed the sheet down, exposing their incestuous crimes. He lifted his erection toward his mother. "My dick hurts. What's wrong?"

Oks lowered her manicured paw and took her son's penis in-hand. She kneeled beside the bed to get a better look. Her little red nails washed every which way. "You are chaffed." Oks ran a finger under the crown of Nick's glans. He cringed. "Yeah. You are burned up. Did you do this, or did your sister do this to you?"

Nick thumbed at Pryn.

Oks shook her head and stood. "You need to take better care of your man, Prinadlez. You cannot tear up a spectacular cock like you brother's. You should use some of my homemade slippery oil or better yet, your mouth."

"What do I do?"  Nick asked.

Oks smiled. "You can wait a couple days for it to heal up."

Nick looked at his engorged pecker.

"I don't think I can wait that long."

Oks laughed. Her fingers went back to Nick's prick and began to dance. "Well, a real woman knows how to work around a wounded soldier." Oks kneeled next to the bed again. One hand worked a crank on the bottom of Nick's shaft. She made a Girl Scout three finger salute and pressed against the face of Nick's glans with her other hand.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Like that, Mom!  Jesus, that's nice."

"Oh, Nicolai," said Oks wistfully. "If only your father had said for me that I could pleasure you. I'd be able to do this until you come. But I'm afraid, I can only love on you a little. I can't make you come. Daddy would kill me."

"Just keep doing that for another minute, Mom." Nick's face and chest was flushing red again.

"Oh, baby, you know I can't. But your sister can."

"She doesn't know what she's doing."

"Apparently she doesn't. I tell you what." Oks looked up at the camera. "Pryn, get your hand on your brother's cock. Higher. Okay, I'm only going to do this once and hope Daddy doesn't see this. Get ready, Pryn."

Oks pursed her lips and appeared to chew her tongue. She leaned up on the bed and pushed the red crown of Nick's prick through the pucker of her lips. Nick moaned and his neck stiffened. Oks pushed her mouth into the web of Pryn's hand and slowly retreated, leaving a thick sheen of saliva.

"Stroke now," Oks said to Pryn. "Higher." The rope of clear spittle between Nick's penis head and Oksana's bottom lip did not break.

"OOOooooohhhhggggaaaaaa!" Nick moaned.

Pryn was unprepared for the lack of friction and accidentally dropped Nick's cock against his stomach with a resounding THWACK!

"Pryn!" admonished Oks. "Do not drop your man's cock. That is disrespectful!"

"Sorry," Pryn mumbled. She scooped the hard dick off Nick's pubic bone and worked her grip back up under the slippery head.

"Not too hard," Oks said.

"I need somebody else bossing me around right now," Pryn growled. "Somebody call Mr. Verhagen and see if he wants to come criticize me too."

"Shut up and-- oooooh, Sis!" Nick closed his eyes. "More. More. Yeah. Like that. Ohhhh."

Oks watched the young sister apply her awkward handjob to her brother and smiled. "You have much to learn," Oks said, "but you are on your way to being a proper sister and a proper daughter to your Daddy."

Nick moaned.

"Good job, Pryn," whispered Oks. "Don't be such a robot. Show a little artistry. Put a little circle power on your stroke. Not just up and down."

"Like that?"

Oks smiled. "I don't know. How is that, my prince? Is that better?"

"Yeah, but it's getting hot again. It burns."

Pryn looked at her hand. "He's drying out again."

"Mom, put your mouth back on it."

"Ohhhh, Baby. I would if I could. But you don't want Daddy to whip my ass, do you?"

Nick didn't answer. He was obviously weighing the answer to his mother's question.

Oks lifted up on her knees and leaned over Nick's midsection again. "Stroke under my mouth, Pryn."

Pryn pointed the tip of Nick's wiener at her mother's lowering mouth. Pryn thought Oks was going to suck again. Instead she washed a huge blurb of spittle over her bottom lip and onto Nick's cock head. Pryn's stroke picked up the saliva and Nick moaned hard.

Oks nodded at Pryn and smiled.

Nick's hairless ballsack was so tight that his nuts disappeared into bumps on each side of his engorged shaft.  Oks looked at Pryn and winked. Oks dropped two careful claws of pulsing red fingernails onto the sides of Nick's tight nuts and wiggled her fingers until Pryn could barely hear the whispering friction.

Nick's eyes bugged open and he made another resonant animal sound that startled Pryn.  His head lifted off the mattress and slammed back down over and over.

"Sssssss-sssss-ssss-tuh-huh-haaaaaaaaaaaaup!" Nick hissed. "Stop!"

"That's enough, Pryn. Don't kill him." Oks said.

Pryn stopped stroking, but did not drop Nick's cock. "Is that it? Did he come?"

"Of course he came. Look. He cannot breathe."

"Why did no baby juice squirt out?"

"His testicles are just now waking up to being pleasured. How many orgasms have you given him?"

"Two, I think."

"Keep at it," Oks said. "With a few more orgasms, he will spray come, but it will be clear. After a few weeks of that, Prince Nicolai will start pumping semen thick with powerful babymakers."

"Wow!" Nick panted.

"We just missed our bus." Pryn nodded at the clock.

Oks didn't seem concerned. "The men of this house take priority over everything. You will have to set your alarm clock for earlier if your brother wants his pleasure in the morning. I would advise you to make sure you give it to him before he goes to bed, but youngsters like Prince Nicolai here will want it both times. An average young man can come three times a day if his cock is carefully tended. That means our beautiful Prince Nicolai will be able to come six times a day, as there is nothing average about him."

Nick swallowed and shook his head. "I don't ever want to be rubbed again as long as I live."

Oksana laughed. "Whatever you say."

Pryn was not satisfied with her mother's lack of concern. "Can I walk to school?"

"If your brother releases you."

Nick waved Pryn off his bed.

Oks stopped her from leaving the room. "Before you do anything, rub some aloe on your brother's wounded cock."

Nick shook his head. "That's okay. I'll do it."

Oks scowled. "Your sister burned up your magnificent manhood with her carelessness. You should make her doctor it."

"Hey beautiful, why aren't you in school?" Mr. Verhagen leaned an elbow out his open car window.

"I missed the bus and Mom doesn't have a car."

"Well why didn't you knock on my door? You go to Frost Middle, right? I'm freelancing out at the Generation Station. It's on my way. Hop in."

Pryn praised her good fortune.

"Buckle in. Golly, Pryn, you look more like your mother every day. You are going to break some hearts girl."

Pryn wasn't sure how to respond. "Nobody is as pretty as my mom."

Mr. Verhagen laughed. "Yeah, well. That bar is high, indeed. But you are on your way. How'd you miss your bus?"

Pryn's face blushed. "I was doing chores and I let time slip by me."

"That happens. Where's your momma's car?"

"My dad took it on a trip."

"Oh." Mr. Verhagen's voice went frosty. "Sometimes your old man doesn't think about what is best for you and your mom before he does stuff."

Mr. Verhagen made the turn onto Blevins Gap Road and lapsed into silence for a while. "Your mom and I used to be pretty good friends, did you know that?"

Pryn shrugged and kept her eyes forward.

"Real good friends. When your dad was traveling for his job? Sometimes I'd help her out, fixing things. Then we'd sit and have a beer and talk. Your mother is a charmer."

Pryn new better than to take the bait.

"Not sure what happened. But I can hardly get her to wave back at me these days."

Pryn remained silent.

"She, uh, she ever say anything to you about me?"

Pryn sighed. Even at twelve she understood that adults weren't any less subtle than eighth graders. Mr. Verhagen seemed like a nice man. Definitely smitten with Oksana. He had no idea how thin his lifeline was stretched if he made the wrong move in sight of one of Chapman Reynolds's cameras.

"I really appreciate the ride, Mr. Verhagen," Pryn turned her head and took a good look at her driver. Mr. Verhagen was cute. Not manly cute, but movie star cute.

"Any time, sugar. Any ol' time. I'd love to help you and your mother any way I can." Mr. Verhagen eased into the dropoff circle in front of Frost Middle.

Pryn popped her seatbelt and opened the door.

"Tell your momma I said ‘hello,' okay?"

Pryn froze. She pulled the door closed and squared on Verhagen in the passenger's seat. "Mr. V? You seem really cool. I like you."

"Thanks, pumpkin."

"My dad isn't as cool as you are."

Verhagen laughed. "Well that's quite a compliment, thank you."

"No. You don't understand. My dad will fucking kill you if he catches you hanging around my mom."

Verhagen's jaw dropped at Pryn's use of adult language.

"That's not some kind of metaphor, Mr. V. My dad will literally fucking kill you until you're dead. I know why you like my mom, and that's cool. But stay away. I don't want to see you get hurt, okay?"

Verhagen was still fishmouthed after Pryn exited the car and ran for the school doors.

Oksana was right. Nick wanted handjobs almost all the time. That Pavlovian bell would not be unrung. Monday and Tuesday Pryn whacked off Nick following her cupping at night and after waking in next to him in the morning. She used her mother's linseed oil lube to keep Nick's cock from bursting into flames.  Nick reached up or down as necessary to squeeze Pryn's breast buds while her wet fist kept a steady chikka chikka chikka slap beat. It took less-and-less effort from Pryn to snap Nick's bean when she used the slippery oil. Even less time when she applied "artistry," as her mother called it.

Nick orgasmed faster with every passing handjob, which was fine by Pryn.

Just as Oksana predicted, Nick squirted jets of warm crystal on Wednesday night. It went everywhere, including several gloops onto Pryn's disgusted face.

Nick startled at the sensation of hot moisture raining back down on his chest. "I'm bleeding!"

"You're not bleeding, idiot. That's come. Like Mom said."

"Oh." Nick lifted a dribble off his stomach and rubbed it between his fingers.

Thursday morning, Nick's hand slid behind Pryn's neck and pulled her head toward his erection.  "Do what Mom did."

"Nick, that's disgusting."

"C'mon."

"Can I do it tonight instead? When I don't have to hurry?"

"I don't want to wait, Sis. I really want it now."

Pryn's nose wrinkled.

Nick released Pryn's neck and grabbed a handful of hair from the top of her scalp.

"Ow!" shouted Pryn.

"Now!" answered Nick.

Nick's hot, red cockhead pushed its way between Pryn's lips as her scalp was yanked forward to meet it. She instinctively sucked at the throbbing skin filling her mouth and stretching the limits of her jaw. Nick made a new animal sound. Pryn popped off the glistening crimson tip and five strokes later she took a bullseye blast of clear come in her eye. She instinctively dropped Nick's cock and clawed at her burning cornea. Nick picked up his wiener and finished pumping loops of spermless spew onto Pryn's chest and knees.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked.

"I need to wash your come out of my eye and get in the shower. I can't miss school today, remember? I'm helping Mrs. Farmat after sixth period?"

"I remember," Nick said. His face screwed into an odd, smug smile. "Anyhow, don't leave the bed until I say you can."

Pryn stared furiously at Nick with her one open eye. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to say I can leave or not?"

"When you ask, maybe," Nick smiled. He was acting more like all the other jerk boys Pryn's age every day.

"Can I go?"

"Ask nicely."

"Please, can I go?"

"Nicer than that."

Pryn considered punching her brother in the throat. Then she thought about dancing with Troy under swirling lights.

"Nicolai, my prince," Pryn said with a breathy lilt. "Should it please you, could you release your sister to her day, so that she might return to your ownership this evening and practice sucking your cock like a properly kept sister?"

"Wow!" said Nick. "That was pretty good! Did you mean that part about sucking me tonight?"

Pryn sighed deeply. "Yes."

"Are you going to do it nice and soft like Mom? Or are you going to act prissy and mean?"

"I'll do it good. As good as I can. You have to help me a little. Teach me what you like."

"Promise?"

Pryn nodded.

"Say it out loud. Promise me."

"I promise, Nick. I swear. C'mon. Please let me go before I miss the bus again!"

Nick nodded. "You can go."

As hard as she tried, Pryn could not get her shoes to touch the ground. Troy Walker wasn't much of a talker, but he knew how to kiss a girl. He wasn't a bad dancer either.

After a lot of standing around and a little close swaying against Troy's chest, the Fall Fling ended too soon. Troy walked Pryn out to the wall that masked the area where Teachers smoked between classes. He pushed Pryn against the bricks (gently) and kissed her for a long time (ten minutes) until the Activity Buses started queuing up by the fire zone.

They rode the same bus home together, holding hands. Troy wasn't as bold as they shuffled down Meremac Lane toward their homes. Troy and Pryn kept their respective hands in the pockets of their own jackets. Troy walked at Pryn's pace until he made his turn on Twilly Court. He extended his lips in trust and was rewarded with a tender peck.

Troy smiled his awesome smile. "See you tomorrow," he said.

"Yeah," Pryn sighed. "Tomorrow." She floated toward Chesapeake Court. The little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she was out of distractions and she was actually marching toward her promise to suck on her brother's penis. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she mumbled. "I'll pretend he's Troy."

"Hey, Prynter," Nick smiled. "How were your dead frogs?""

"Gross and smelly. What are you doing?"

"Cooking. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're cooking? Is Mom dead?"

"Funny."

"What is that?"

"Bowtie pasta and Dad's moose venison."

Pryn nodded, impressed. "I like moose venison. Is it the spicy kind?"

"Of course. The plain kind tastes like your butt."

"Ha." Pryn rolled her eyes.

Pryn was doing Pre-Algebra homework in front of American Idol when Nick came for her.

"Let's go, Pryn," Nick announced. "Inspection."

Pryn did not understand. "I haven't taken my shower yet."

"So? Let's go."

"Nick, I haven't finished my homework."

"Pryn, I'm not going to tell you again," Nick said. He sounded exactly like Chapman Reynolds. "Upstairs."

Pryn checked her anger. "Okay," she said. She should have known that Nick wouldn't want to wait for his blowjob. She wagered that she'd be back down in front of her books in less than ten minutes. She left them open.

Once in her room, she said, "Don't you just want me to suck you now? Wait for my inspection until after homework and my shower?"

"Strip," Nick said. "Get your ass up on the bed."

Pryn looked at her brother in disbelief. He stared her down. She peeled her clothes and mounted the bed on all fours. Nick yanked her hair so hard Pryn thought she heard follicles rip away from the scalp. Then his hand was all over her butt. Up and down. Left and right. Up and down again. She heard an air-fart from the bottle of slippery oil. Then Nick jammed his lubed finger deep into Pryn's butthole. Pryn screamed at the violation. Nick followed her forward sway and kept his probing digit buried to the third joint.

"Dammit, that hurts, Nick!"

"Shut up." Nick twisted his finger as far as he could rock it. Pryn squealed again in pain.

"On your back, bitch." Nick said.

Pryn froze. He called her a bitch again. Nick removed his finger and slapped Pryn on the ass with sadistic force. Pryn flinched in pain and tipped over her shoulder onto her back.

Nick's foul finger pushed through her lips and rubbed her teeth. Pryn wanted to spit as soon as the indignity left her mouth. Nick was onto hard pinches of tit buds. Pryn didn't mind that part so much. Even though her breasts were tender, there was something about Nick's forceful insistence that Pryn did not totally hate.

The blade of Nick's hand slid between the cleft of Nick's pussy. Nick froze. "You're wet."

"Am I?"

"Did I stutter? Why are you wet, Pryn?"

"I don't know."

"Do dead frogs make my pussy turn slutty?"

Pryn looked at Nick. "Why are you talking like Daddy?"

"Answer the question, Pryn. Why is my pussy all sloppy with slut juice?"

"I said I don't know."

"That's not good enough."

"Ryan Seacrest is cute. I was watching him on the television, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him."

Nick laughed. "Ryan Seacreast? That fag?"

"He's cute."

Nick keyed into Pryn's secret drawer and pulled out the wrists cuffs and one pair of Quick Release Bungees. He stretched Pryn's arms to the headboard.

"You sure you don't want to tell me the truth about why my pussy is wet and slutty?" Nick asked.

"I told you."

Nick nodded. "Yeah. And you told me Mrs. Farmat wanted you to stay after school. When I saw all those posters for Fall Fling, I knew you weren't really staying after to pin frogs to dissection trays. Were you?"

Pryn's mouth opened and closed. "No," she huffed in defeat.

"You went to the dance, didn't you?"

"Yes," Pryn spat.

"I knew it. Who did you go with?"

"Nobody," said Pryn. "I just went. I thought it would be cool. It turned out to be pretty lame."

"Ah," Nick nodded. "You went 'doe' to a dance. Got it."

Nick pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He thumbed at it for a minute. He pushed the small screen at Pryn's nose. "My buddy Charles works for the yearbook club. He was there taking photos. Who is that dancing with Troy Walker in this picture?"

Pryn's eyes struggled to focus on the too-close screen. Her stomach sank.

"Shit, Nick," Pryn whispered. "You can't tell Daddy. You absolutely can't tell Daddy."

" 'Daddy?' " Nick mocked. "Sister, Daddy is the least of your problems right now."

Pryn noted that Nick was red from his hairline to where his neck disappeared in his shirt. He was as mad as she had ever seen him.

Nick pulled his clothes off. His dick was rock hard. He crawled up on Pryn's chest and put a knee on each side of her head. "You need to be more worried about the guy who owns you than your Daddy." Nick leaned forward and speared Pryn's lips with his stiff penis. He leaned into the headboard and fucked his sister's throat hard and deep. Pryn retched upon the invasion of her throat. Nick thrust back even harder. He grunted like an ape. After a minute of throat fucking Pryn, Nick turned at a 45 degree angle and did a pushup over Pryn's face. Over and over he drilled Pryn's mouth with his new manhood.

Pryn tried to pivot out from under the assault on her tonsils, but Nick had the power position. The best she could do was flail her untethered legs.

"Suck it," Nick shouted. "SUCK IT!"

Pryn's tongue flooded under gallons of salty, hot spray.

"Uhhhhnnggh!" Nick grunted. His stabbing of Pryn's throat slowed. Stopped. He pulled his penis out of Pryn's mouth and she finally had an opportunity to gulp down all the hot goo that was drowning her. Once she could breath again, she started coughing and could not stop.

Nick stood beside the bed. He was getting angrier with each passing second. His lips went thin and then began to shimmy strangely.

"YOU CHEATED ON ME!" Nick screamed, wagging an accusatory finger. "YOU CHEATED! YOU'RE A CHEAT, PRYN! You are supposed to be mine but you were dancing with Troy Walker and then afterwards you werer kissing him outside by the tennis courts!" Nick's bottom lip quivered in anger.

Pryn realized Nick was struggling not to cry. "Oh shit," Pryn thought. "My brother is actually jealous."

Nick stomped to Pryn's drawer. He cuffed Pryn's ankles and bungied them to the same eyebolts as her wrists before pulling the QRBs tight. When he was done, Pryn's upturned ass floated high in the air. Nick marched back to the drawer and pulled out a riding crop.

"Nick, no! Please! Please Nick! Nicolai! My prince, please! No!"

Pryn ran out of screams before Nick exhausted himself branding a crimson patchwork quilt on his sister's ass. She heaved a flemmy bray with every burning collision of leather on skin.

MARCH 2014

Braden pulled the leather book with the check toward his side of the table. Joanie and Pryn exhaled. They'd assumed Braden would expense the meal, but once they inventoried the empty barware on their table they realized they were well into triple digits. If Braden asked to split the bill, Time-Warner Cable was going dark in their apartment for a couple-three months.

"If my accountant asks, you two are some of the top buyers of Metro-class Managed Routers in the Empire State, okay?" Braden stuffed his AMEX into the book and pushed it to the edge of the table for the waitress without opening it to glance at the receipt.

"Thank you, Braden," Pryn said. "I feel bad. We kind of got carried away with the liquor."

Braden shrugged. "Don't mention it. I had a wonderful time. Charles missed out on a fabulous meal."

"I'm starting to think Charles doesn't really exist," Pryn said. "For all Joanie's talk, he's always canceling at the last minute."

"He exists," Braden smiled. "I assure you. I hear as much about Ms. Joan as you do about Charles."

"All good, of course," Joanie swirled a cocktail straw through the ice of her whiskey sour to churn up one last sip.

"Glowing," Braden smiled. "Effusive. Filled with the choicest superlatives." He tipped the dregs of his Manhattan toward Joanie. "And yet, he still failed to convey the full tome of your clever beauty."

"Wow!" Joanie said. "I thought Charles had game! Polly here is the only one I've ever met who can whip out an abridged Boggle throw of bullshit vocabulary like that and make it sound plausible."

Pryn cocked an eyebrow."I'm sure that was some kind of compliment."

"It started off that way," Joanie said. "But somewhere along it's drunken ramble it teetered over and fell into the gutter." Joanie sucked the tiny straw until her glass echoed with a rude slurp. "Speaking of which. I've got to be at the club early tomorrow to inventory the delivery from Urban Spirits."

"Oh no," Pryn grimaced. She turned to Braden. "Raj from Urban is an unrepentant ass patter. We get enough groping from the customers, but Raj thinks every female ass he encounters deserves honor of his pat-pat tap-tap."

"You can't say anything?" Braden asked. He nodded and smiled at the waitress returning his credit card. Pryn could not see the amount, but she noted that the tip he wrote was $125.

Joanie laughed. "Consider that Raj the Ass-Patter is union brothers with Miguel, the best shallot and fresh muscles guy in the boroughs, who is mosque-mates with Davi, the kitchen's only connection to out-of-season morel mushrooms."

"Davi," Pryn said, "Is brother to Ravi--"

"Ravini," Joanie corrected.

Pryn nodded, "Right yeah. Ravini is the connection who pilfers the choicest Kobe beef somewhere between the boat and the wholesaler, losing six dollars of markup along the way. And Ravini's niece runs the only industrial laundry left in M-town that A. actually picks up our kitchen whites, and B. knows the balancing act between bleach and elbow grease that keeps the livery crisp without dissolving it."

"So yes," concluded Joanie. "I could say something, but the butterfly effect that it would have on club operations would end up putting sixty people in the unemployment line. So Raj can pat-pat-pattycake this girl's ass until the sacred cows come home. I can take one for the team."

Braden snorted. "Sounds like you know your industry. If my Tier Two guys could circuit check blades half as good as you service your suppliers, I'd never lose a customer."

Joanie stood out of the booth. Braden followed.

"No. No. You two stay and talk," Joanie said. "I'm a big girl. Besides, Polly was enthralled by the description of your vinyl collection. You should show it to Polly. Polly, you know Braden's place is just a couple blocks down on 44th."

Pryn blushed.

Braden smiled a shy smile. "Polly? You interested in a nightcap and some Blind Willie McTell?"

Joanie winked. "Is that what you kids are callin' it these days?"

"Let me walk you outside and put you in a cab," Braden stood. "I insist."

Braden's bedroom was small, but immaculate. His sheets smelled like Tide and Pryn wondered if he had washed them in anticipation of their double-date set up. Braden wasn't a bad kisser. Every time Pryn reached for the tent in his pants he gently swept her arm back above her head and removed another piece of her clothing. She was down to ankle socks.

He was impressed with Pryn's breasts. All males were. Pryn tried to remember if all the bruises from her adventures with Fassbender's posse were gone. If any remained, the shadows of the room masked them.

Pryn was programmed to please men. The oddness of Braden's attentions finally caught up with Pryn. He was trying to please her. Impress her.

Pryn did not know what to do with that. It was a sweet gesture, but the Pussy-Formerly-Known-As-Nick-and-Daddy's-Pussy went numb. Most girls would have faked orgasm by now, excused themselves, and apped an Uber. Pryn wasn't wired that way. She was born to serve. She would stay until Braden's balls were drained, even if he hadn't picked up the check. It was her nature. But... The thought of being served by a "nice guy" did nothing to spark her brain.

"You really are exquisite." Braden pulled the back of his fingers down Pryn's cheek and the sides of Pryn's massive right tit. "Those puffy nipples of yours are a treasure."

"Thank you." Pryn heard the phony stilt in her own voice and cringed. She was built for bad boys. For alphas. The sweet boy wasted his sweet words. If he wanted to get through to her id, he should have been spanking her and flipping her around like a rag doll. Banging away.

Braden dropped between Pryn's legs and lifted her knees over his shoulders. "Let me love on you a little, Polly."

"Okay," Pryn whispered.

Braden's warm tongue was a better ambassador for pleasure than his middle-school kisses had lead Pryn to believe. He lapped the minora folds with the rough-wet flat of his tongue and probed the sensitive terrains of clitoris hood with the pointed tip of his licker.

It was nice, but... Merely nice. Pryn wished Braden would put her on her knees so she could suck him off and get back to the Bronx before the cabbies went to shift change and she became invisible blowby to men holding briefcases.

Braden sucked her clit and that was actually better-than-nice. Then Braden sucked harder. And harder. Pryn's clit stretched across Braden's top teeth and Braden inhaled hard through his nose to keep a tight vacuum on Pryn's pink nerve button.

Pryn heard herself moan. She flashed back to Nick. The traitorous pussy between her thighs began to warm and slick with her own slut essence.

Nick rubbed a ridiculous amount of linseed oil onto his pussy. He massaged the aromatic slick into the shifting landscape of the clit, making Pryn's hips swerve in autonomic response. Because her ass was upturned to the ceiling, all the extra oil pooled in the crease of her tunnel. Nick's fingers sloshed back-and-forth through the puddle and Pryn felt the body-warmed oil tickle-trickle past her butthole and down her crack.

"Dad warned me," Nick said. "He said you and Mom were sluts. I don't know about Mom, but I see the truth about you." He returned from the secret drawer with the thin vacuum tube. Nick licked the opening and centered it around a slippery clitoris. The glass was cold, making Pryn suck air through clenched teeth. Nick positioned the tube and clipped his bulb apparatus to the vent on top. It was his turn to suck air. The black bulb hissed and panted. Pryn felt the tension suck at the folds of her sex crease. More suction. More suction. More.

It didn't hurt as much as she expected. In fact, it was less painful than the breast cups under suction.

Nick stopped to rub a circuit around her virgin fuckhole. His finger was warm and nothing to-date had ever felt so right about being manhandled. A hitch in her throat started as a gasp but transitioned to a moan.

"I can see the tiny hole you pee out of," Nick said. "Normally I can't, but with my clit button all pulled up, I can see it."

Nick traced his finger over an intimate part of Pryn that she had never touched herself. The inside of Pryn's ears burned with the stimulation and buzzed with a high pitch.

Where she had not felt the specificity of the suction tube on Nick's clitoris before, now she did. She felt the throb. It started dull and low. The more Nick ran his fingers over the entrance to Pryn's womb, the more the "dull and low" at the top of Nick's pussy became "sharp and high." Pryn realized the tapping sensation was her own pulse stabbing through her engorged sex nerves.

"What's the matter, slut?" Nick asked.

The Daddy-brusqueness in Nick's voice sent a chill through Pryn's inner thighs.

"Are you actually liking this?" Nick asked.

Pryn did not want to answer honestly. "It doesn't hurt too bad," she said.

"Apparently this here pussy I own likes my attention, because you're pissing slut juice that's thicker than Mom's oil."

"God," Pryn panted. The tension was still in her inner ear, but some of it had washed out to the sides of her neck where she felt her hair start to stand up.

"See, I've got some skills," Braden cooed.

Pryn nodded and squinted her eyes shut, desperately wishing Braden would shut the fuck up. She was close enough to squirt. Braden's swishy, flat-tongue technique was plenty good enough to get her over, if he'd just suck clit a little harder.

If he'd just smack her ass with his open palm.

Ohhh, if he'd just let his tongue drop down and dance taboo tango about her electric rosebud for a few seconds, she'd pop like a party favor on the next uplick.

Maybe he could even suck his finger wet and then slip it into her butt while he lapped the slippery pink hiding places of her (Nick's) pussy lips and her (Daddy's) clitty. Troy did that once and she loved it. Thinking about Troy was a gateway to painful distraction. Pryn banished him from her fantasy.

Braden sucked clit hard against his front teeth and rocked his jaw to thrum Pryn's nerve endings against polished bumps. The wet sucking sound was obscene and gratuitous and dirty. Pryn loved it.

If Braden kept it up for just a little longer she'd come. He didn't.

"That's-a girl. You like that, Darling?"

Pryn wanted to scream in anger. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Her jaw clenched in frustration.

Braden could take one lesson from Troy Walker. Troy never talked when he was sexing her.

"You've got no business with Troy Walker," Nick growled. "Everything you need is in this house and in this bed with me."

Pryn nodded and closed her eyes. She couldn't seem to close her mouth all the way. Or stop her breaths from leaking out like cat meows.

Pryn had been weak-in-the-knees around certain boys before. She had been horny before. The folds between her legs had gone warm from male attention before, especially sitting on Daddy's lap, or sometimes after a good day when Daddy was rubbing his hands all over her skin during an inspection.

But she had never in twelve years been as out-and-out needy for touch as she was in that moment. She'd never felt as if her brain was going to eat itself if she couldn't push friction onto her private kiss. Nick's warm fingers danced around and made her insane. When he talked deep and tough, the trembles in her butt and thighs turned to quakes. It was hard to breathe with all the jolts of cold heat rippling through her chest.

As if reading Pryn's mind, Nick dropped his mouth and suckled Pryn's tit bud; his suck was wet and needy, with a wash of hot breath from his nose scouring the parts of tit that weren't under the authority of his slurping suction. All of the attention that Daddy and Nick had showered on her breasts, all that male fascination with the fatty knobs below her neck... Suddenly it all made sense. The receptors in her stretched pink nipples met up at the same party as the crazy warmy needy breathy nervy revelers in the folds at the top of her legs and they all began to chant and egg each other on. Nick's rubs on his pussy showed up in the twingling pink tips of the nipple. Nick's hungry wet mouth on her breast was somehow omnipresent in the waves of pleasure rolling out of Nick's pussy and across the sensitive pink rosebud of her butthole.

Pryn could not stop the shaking that started in her butthole and racked her entire body from sole to scalp.

Nick broke suction and walked to Pryn's secret drawer. He returned with a little chrome stub that Pryn did not recognize. Nick clicked the end of it like an ink pen. Nothing happened. Nick shook the chrome and it buzzed like an angry bee. He sat back on the bed and used the buzzer to circle his pussy hole.

Pryn lost her ability to breathe.

Nick dropped the tingling sensation to a loop around the edges of her rosebud butthole. Pryn involuntarily racked so hard against her bondage that the headboard made a cracking sound. The explosion in her head cleared and she realized that someone had just screamed and that someone was her.

"Hmmm. I think you liked that," Nick said. He wasn't smiling. He was still pissy. Nick's angry intensity was yet another thing coaxing reactions from excited skin and movement from subterranean muscle groups.

The hot buzzing sensation crept higher over Nick's pussy hole and then danced around the tiny plateau of no-man's land between the divot and the button. Pryn did not know divot from button. It was merely a chatty confab between old nerves, familiar nerves, and new nerves.

Pryn heard her own wetness. Braden's grunts became more animal as he lapped harder and gulped pussy juice to keep up with the flood on his lips.

"Gawd, you're wet," he panted. His tongue came high for a clit circle. Invisible hairs lifted to attention off Pryn's neck, stomach, and arms.

"You're a little whore, Polly," Braden grunted. "You are a wet pussy slut."

It was harder for Pryn to breath.

"Yeah, little whore," Braden grunted. "You're not fooling anybody. Move that ass, whore."

Nick placed the his buzzing chrome bee on the glass phallus surrounding the vacuum-engorged clitoris.

Pryn launched up and out of her body, through the ceiling and roof. She pushed through a canopy of stars so fast that they turned to lines. Her corporal spirit transformed into light itself and she became a pixilated pointillism among the vast face of God.

040814: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: You might be shocked to know how normal that is.

A: What?

Q: A rather high percentage of women orgasm while being raped. It's a physiological reflex. You can't always control it. There's no shame.

A: I didn't just come. I came so hard that I left my body. In all fairness, I was tied in a way that created a blood rush to my head when I exploded, but there was no doubt. That orgasm baked my brownie.

I woke up to Mom in the room and Nick saying "I killed Pryn! I killed Pryn! Dad said not to kill my sister!"

A: 'Killing your sister is bad.'

Q: Yep. That's what Daddy told him. Mom, she was laughing. "What do you expect when you play with a pussy of upside-down girl?"

Nick got over his shock quickly. That afternoon after school he ordered me bare and he lie on the bed and pointed to an erection poking out of his jeans. I went to grab it and he slapped my hands away. We moved through the handjob era in a matter of days and onto the long era of blowjobs, blowjobs, and more blowjobs.

At first it wasn't bad. It was almost fun to latch my lips around Nick's warm shaft and feel him jerk and moan as I put more tongue against it, or sucked hard on the head, or when I bobbed my mouth really fast while I sucked really hard.

It was play. Experimentation. If I put my tongue here then how did it make Nick move? If I concentrate my suck on this part of his cockhead, how did it change the pitch of Nick's moan?

It was like Nick was some bizarre organic instrument and I was learning to play music on him.

The truth was that I was sucking my brother's cock, but I was taking notes for how I was going to rock Troy Walker's world if I ever got a chance.

I got the chance. And I rocked his world. But before that, it was Nick, Nick, Nick. I either had the taste of Nick's cock skin on my taste buds or the aftertaste of his sperm load. All the time.

I could pop Nick in fifteen minutes when we started, but he got more and more stamina. And then, like Mom warned, his come began to thicken with sperm a little more every week. I couldn't even get rid of the aftertaste because Nick had me sucking his cock every morning as soon as he woke up, every day after school, and every night. My bedroom was a place to keep my clothes, because I slept in Nick's bed full-time after I started servicing him with my mouth.

Nick built up some stamina. He figured out ways to slow me down. He'd pull my mouth off his cock and make me lick his shaft, or suck on his balls. I started growing my nails out and shaping them so I could do the thing Mom did on Nick's nuts; gently scratching them and stimulating them. If I waited and didn't start with the nails too soon, I could almost always trigger Nick to blow his load by scratching the sides of his tight bag with my fingernails.

Not long after that he started getting hairs on his balls. That seemed to make them even more sensitive.

As long as Nick was getting head, he seemed to lose interest in me below my waist. He always had a handful of titty as they began to grow under the combination of influences of puberty and Daddy's suction cups. He'd reach under my shirt and help himself to a warm squeeze and a nipple pull whether we were lying around watching TV on the couch or if I was on my knees sucking away at his stiff cock. And that was always. I was always sucking that boy. It's amazing how fast a young boy can recharge. By the end of the day he was down to half a mouthful of come, but flash forward to the next morning and he was drowning me in this crazy six-seven-eight pump gush. I could barely swallow it as fast as he creamed my mouth in long, thick, hot squirts.

A few times I was slurping away on Nick's cock and I looked over and Mom stood in the doorway watching us. Just beaming like she was super proud. Let me correct that. She was beaming at Nick like she was super proud of his ability to lie on his back and take a blowjob from his sister. Like that was a skill!

Crazy. I was the one doing all the work. I was the one who had to hurry up and scramble to get my homework done between my brother's constant hard-ons.

Oh, and even though Nick was a bossy little bastard, things didn't get totally crazy until Daddy came home and cut off Nick's supply of cocksucking sister.

That's when my bossy, horny brother turned into an animal.

But then again.. That was all part of Daddy's master plan.

Daddy was home for four months that stretch of time. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew what would happen to Nick when Nick went from three blowjobs every day to no blowjobs for months and months at a time.

Daddy summoned me into his office that first night he came home and had me strip naked while he watched, mapping my development with his eyes. Then I made him a drink. Then I sat on his lap while we talked. Daddy was getting more interested in me as my tits got bigger. His fingertips were all over my puffy nipples, measuring them. Squeezing them. Testing their response to his attention. Then his palms were all over the small of my back and the curve of my ass. I felt his erection stiffen under me, but he didn't put me down on it or make me suck it. He just snuggled me and talked to me like he understood the predicament I was in and it was Nick's fault, not his.

Q: Is that how you understood it?

A: I was twelve. I turned 13 during that chapter of Daddy being home. When Daddy wrapped his arms around me and hugged my bare skin into his tailored, starched shirt, I believed that he loved me.

He said, "So how is Nick doing with the budget?"

"Daddy, he's alright, I guess," I said, "but he won't buy me a new purse. I've asked him thirty times. He doesn't understand! My purse has Hello Kitty on it. I'm a laughingstock at school. I stopped carrying a purse because I'm tired of being snickered at."

"Did you try to negotiate with him?" Daddy asked. "Trade him something he wants for something you want?"

"What do I have that he wants?" I asked.

Daddy smiled his shit-eating grin. "Oh, I can guess some things he might want." Daddy's fingers slid down into his pussy. I instinctively opened my legs, the way he taught me to respond to the man who owns me. Daddy's fingers didn't fumble. He knew right where to go to spark his pussy. Then he'd pull back to my belly button or slide forward to my butthole and tease me. I think he could have made me come in twenty seconds if he wanted to, but he kept pleasing-then-teasing.

"Daddy," I said, "if Nicolai wants my body, I have to give it to him. That's your rule. If he wants me to suck his dick, I have to suck his dick. That's your rule. I don't exactly have anything to bargain with that Nicolai doesn't already get if he wants it."

Daddy nodded. "Yes. True. But what if he wants something and he doesn't even know he wants it." Daddy illustrated by sticking his index finger in my mouth. I sucked it wet the way he taught me. Then he poked it back in his pussy, right up the opening of his fuckhole. It hurt so bad that I jumped.

I knew the point Daddy was making, but the concept of fucking Nick was too much for my little brain. Sucking his balls dry every day, sure. No problem. But fucking him?

"What if I have a baby?" I asked. "Nicolai has sperm in his come now."

Daddy shrugged. "Would that be the worst thing? Your mother owes me one more daughter. A redhead. I still need a real redheaded girl. You could complete the family."

"I'd have to quit school."

"You don't need school," Daddy said. "School doesn't teach you to keep the men who own you happy."

"I don't want to have a baby, Daddy."

"Suit yourself. You wouldn't necessarily get pregnant. You're menstruating, right?"

I nodded.

Daddy smiled. "I'm just saying it might be a tiny gamble that would get Nicolai's attention and score you a new purse. Aaaand?"

"And what?" I asked.

"You tell me. There's something else on your mind. You want something. I can tell. You've been chewing on something ever since I came back to Louisville. Spill it, girl."

I remember the tip of Daddy's fingers started this slow circle of his pussy button right then. Achingly slow, but hypnotic. I felt it buzz in my shoulders and on the backs of my legs. When I talked, my breath whooshed when I didn't want it to. I started leaking pussy whet all over his dress slacks, but he didn't seem to care.

"What is it?" He asked again.

I knew exactly what he meant, but -- in that moment -- all I could think to say was that I didn't want him to stop rubbing me like that. Daddy flexed his erection and I felt it pump and bump underneath my butt, lifting me.

"Daddy, that feels amazing," I said. I could feel all the tingling converge into a fit of light-headedness.

"You like that." It wasn't a question.

"It's making me crazy, Daddy."

"Tell me your secret," Daddy commanded, low and breathy in my ear. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh, Daddy," I said, unsure how to unpack what I wanted to say. "There's a club at the high school and I have to start lessons now if I want to join it when I'm a freshman next year. I really want to start taking lessons, Daddy."

"What kind of club? What kind of lessons?"

"Gymnastics. Coach Petroli said I have an aptitude for it. I can do backflips and... and... Oh Daddy. God, that's tickling me just right."

"Coach Petroli," Daddy prompted.

"Yeah, she said she thinks I can compete on the Scholastic Squad because I've already got the grace and most of the mechanics of the girls who have been taking gymnastics since they were little."

"How much does the camp cost?"

"Oh Daddy. Please. I'm think I'm going to come." My hand locked around his wrist in a feeble effort to keep Daddy from pulling it away in another tease.

"How much?"

"A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Three hundred and forty dollars."

"That's not so much. We might be able to work that out."

"Really, Daddy?"

At that point Daddy pulled his pussy play hand up to my mouth and told me to 'clean it.' That meant he wanted me to suck it. I looked at all the shiny pussy drippings on his finger and I guess I made a face.

"A girl should be comfortable with her own taste," Daddy said. "Clean my fingers."

Funny that I had not tasted Daddy's pussy before that. I did as he commanded. I latched my lips around his thick, manly fingers and sucked them clean. It wasn't all that weird or icky. Of course. As a grown woman I can appreciate the taste of a woman's chemistry every bit as much as having a man or his seed on my taste buds. But it was all new at the time. After I sucked them shiny, Daddy's fingers went back to his pussy button and now he wasn't teasing. He was all business. He went hard and fast on his clit. I grunted and wiggled all over his lap. I could feel his erection pulsing under me.

Daddy leaned forward and bit the top of my ear with a hot mouth. He latched on to the lobe and pulsed his teeth while he breathed hot air into my girl brain. "Not yet, bitch." He said it really low and really mean. I knew Daddy and I knew exactly what he meant. His growls said "no" but his rubbing was all "now now now!" I tried to fight the tilting sensation, but the more his mouth and teeth worked the top of my ear, the harder it was to resist the sensation of being swept away by the power of a real man.

Still, I knew I'd get Daddy's cane cutting stripes in my ass if I orgasmed. I tried to fight it. I thought about Mom's bloody backside the time I came home from school.

Daddy's fingertips knew just where to dance to make my backbone turn to rubber. He was dancing digits all over his pussy. My breaths became labored and I had to remember to inhale.

"Nooooot yet, little bitch," Daddy growled right into my ear canal. "Noooot yet."

I thought I was pleading with Daddy, but all I could pant out of my mouth was "Puh. Puh. Puh."

Daddy pulsed his erection again under me in his slacks. I thought about the time I watched Mom suck his cock after my first Daddy Dance and it was like I could feel the hardness of it in my mouth. I could taste the skin of it. I could taste salty warning dribbles that were really echoes of Nick's salty pre-come. I could imagine being under Daddy's sexual command on my knees, looking up at him and slurping away on his knob as he was saying, "Noooot yet, little bitch. Don't make me come yet."

His index finger tested his fuck hole one more insufferably long time. Then back to his clit button and Daddy stopped chewing my ear long enough to lick the back side of it in one warm, wet, slow sweep. "Now," he commanded.

I orgasmed like a live wire. I didn't black out, so the trembles and pussy juice kept washing over my thighs in waves. Daddy's breath kept sucking the ripples of my skin upwards to the warmth and wetness of his mouth. When I could hear again, I couldn't believe the sloshing wet sound that was slopping between my legs. I was board-stiff, fighting Daddy's strength, trying to straighten myself onto and off of his hand at the same time. I couldn't take another second, but I never wanted it to stop.

Does that make any sense?

Q: Women are magical in their contradictions. It's why we love them.

A: It's why you guys want to kill us.

Q: Sometimes. But it's mostly reverence.

A: Daddy finished giving me the first of many orgasms by his hand. The thing I remember most was that my mouth went dry and all I could taste was the metallic wash of Daddy's pussy juice that I had sucked off his fingers. It was back on my taste buds. It tasted awful.

Daddy curled me into his big arms and held me tight while I wracked with aftershocks and muscle tremors. He kissed my forehead and nuzzled my hair. I loved him so much in that moment. I knew I was supposed to service the erection I was sitting on. Even at twelve I understood I was responsible for at least sucking some relief into Daddy's hard member. I slid down on my knees between his legs. I ran my fingertips down the giant snake bump in the top of his pant leg. I looked up at him. He looked down at me with sultry, smoky eyes of lust. I reached up for his belt. His hands closed over my wrists.

"No," he said.

"Really?" I asked. I looked at the bump. It was covered in my wet spot and it was pulsing. I couldn't even imagine how it would fit between my teeth, but I knew I was supposed to take ownership of Daddy's pleasure. He owned me, after all. It was my purpose.

"Prinadlezhavshiy," Daddy whispered. "I appreciate the gesture. I appreciate you giving yourself and me not having to force you. But when you give yourself to me, I want all of you. All of you. And you're not ready to give me all of you yet. I'll wait a little longer. When you tire of being owned by Nick, you can offer to give yourself to me. In your totality. Your mouth. My pussy. Your womb. Your everything. Until then, I'll leave you to Nicolai's capable ownership."

Daddy winked. "But not while I'm home. While I'm home, you're mine, not his. I better not catch you messing with Nicolai while I'm boss of this house. I'll blister that bottom. Understand?"

I nodded.

"I mean it."

"I know," I said.

"Mmmm. Daddy said. "Tell you what, though. Why don't you kiss my hard a little?" Daddy pulled my head toward the bump in his sticky, pussy-soaked slacks. "Kiss."

I kissed Daddy's covered erection, somewhere in the long middle of it. Daddy's hand tangled around the back of my hair and pulled me forward against it. "Open your mouth," he whispered. I did. I cracked my jaw and worked against the throbbing erection. Up and down. Toward his balls. Back toward the tip. Gumming the hardness. Tasting my own pussy again on the slacks. I was breathing hot air through the fabric and inhaling Daddy's musk with my sucking breath.

Daddy's head swiveled and his expression softened. He kept sighing. I was sure he was going to relent and pull that monster out of his zipper and order me on it.

Instead he shouted. "Ox!"

Mom was there in seconds and naked in a few more. Daddy stood up out of his chair and Mom pantsed him quickly. She didn't even look at me. She latched her mouth around the head of Daddy's cock the second it sprang up from the leg of his pants and she moaned like she was sucking a chocolate popsicle. I kept staring at the veins and ridges along Daddy's long, erection-curved shaft. My mouth watered a little in empathy as my mom's suction made squeaky slurps over the ripples and bumps of Daddy's curved shaft.

Mom was sucking away at the crown and the throbbing curve of the middle of Daddy's cock looked so empty. I just leaned in to kiss it. That's all I wanted to do was just kiss the warm middle of Daddy's sex. Mom caught me leaning forward with the corner of her eye and pushed me back really hard. "No!" she shouted. "Mine!" She went back to slurping Daddy deeper and deeper. Her lips were stretched to the bursting point as she pushed down on the thick of his shaft. I could see her throat bulge as she stabbed forward to get more of Daddy in her little mouth.

I looked up at Daddy, but all he did was smile. Then his chin hitched and bobbed and then hitched again. His lips pulled back tight on his teeth and he hissed. Mom popped her mouth off Daddy and I could see the sperm strings coating her teeth. She smiled at Daddy and Daddy smile back at her.

"Go get your shower," Daddy said to me. "It's about time for bed and you haven't been cupped yet."

"Are you going to inspect me and cup me, or is Nick?" I asked.

"Nick can do it."

"Daddy, you know what Nick's going to do when I'm tied up."

"If you're tied up, you can't get in trouble for disobeying and he can."

"Okay," I said. "Just so you know. He's going to crawl up on my face and force his penis him my mouth."

Daddy considered this. "Yeah. You are probably right. I'll take inspection and cupping duties for a while. Besides, it looks like you've probably outgrown your first set of suction cups. I've got to find the next bigger set. I can't remember where I put them."

Pryn turned off the showerhead. The diverted wash from the spigot floated soap and skin care foam backwards toward her small feet. She pivoted on her waist to examine the backs of her legs. Since she started shaving, she was finding missed patches of stubble on the backs of her knees. If Daddy was inspecting her, he wouldn't miss such oversight the way Nick did in his rush to get Pryn inspection and the cupping ritual. Nick just wanted mouth on his cock.

Pryn leaned forward and pulled the wispy hairs of her muff apart. She bent her neck to check the pink slit for any anomaly.

Satisfied, she grabbed the shower curtain and yanked it back. Nick's face was so close to hers that she screamed. Her feet stepped and slid in soap. The terror of an unexpected visitor was replaced by the terror of falling in the tub.

Nick stepped forward and his hands latched into Pryn's armpits before she could tumble.

"Dammit, Nick!" Pryn scolded. "You scared the life out of me!"

"Shhhh. Be quiet," Nick whispered. He pushed the elastic of his sweatpants down and his member popped up and waved at Pryn.

"Nicolai!" Pryn said. "I can't. You know I can't. Dad is home."

"He won't know," Nick said. "Real quick. I'm dying here. My balls feel like bricks. Just a quick suck."

"No! I belong to Daddy. He expressly told me not to serve you while he's home and he's boss."

Nick's hand reflexively dropped to his dick and he stroked it absently. Pryn realized Nick didn't even know he was doing it. "There are no cameras in here," Nick said. "Dad just ran to the supermarket to buy vodka. He's in the car so he can't be watching the monitors right now."

"Nick, I can't."

Nick stepped forward and grabbed Pryn by the top of her wet hair. "C'mon. Hurry up. We don't have a lot of time." Nick yanked Pryn forward, forcing her to high step out of the tub.

"No!"

"Bitch, you better fucking shut up and get down on your knees," Nick growled. "Dad isn't going to be here forever and you better start thinking about what I'm going to do to you when I get ownership of you back when Dad leaves."

Pryn considered this. "At least hand me a towel, Bossy."

Nick slapped Pryn. Not hard, but hard enough to make his point. "Watch it," he growled.

Anger and frustration welled up in Pryn's cheeks. She would not let herself cry. She nodded. "A towel, please, My Prince?"

With one hand Nick ripped a towel off the towel bar and tossed it into Pryn's stomach. The other hand clamped on Pryn's shoulder and forced her down on the tile.

Pryn pulled a clump of towel under her knees and a second later Nick was pushing his cock head past Pryn's teeth. He was furious in his hip pumps. His hand locked on the back of Pryn's head. She couldn't even suck. All she could do was keep her teeth splayed while Nick grunted and thrust his hardness against the back of Pryn's throat.

Pryn nearly bit Nick's dick off at the pounding on the bathroom door.

"NICOLAI!" It was Oks. Small relief. "NICOLAI! What are you doing with your sister in there?"

After a shocked pause, Nick went right back to fucking Pryn's throat. "Nothing ma!" Pryn could hear the grin in Nick's voice. His mother no longer intimidated him in the slightest.

"NICOLAI! You have two seconds to open this door and then I am dialing your father, as he has instructed. ONE!"

"Goddammit!" Nick pulled out of Pryn's mouth and pulled up his sweatpants. He yanked the door open. "HAPPY?" he shouted into his mother's face. "ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?" Nick reached down and pumped the comical erection tent in the front of his sweats for effect.

Nick stormed to his room and slammed the door.

Oks looked at Pryn dripping onto the floor, still half stunned by the force of the mouth rape and all the screaming that followed. "You better be careful, Darling," she whispered. "You are between rock and hard places."

"What do I do?" Pryn asked.

"You do nothing." Oks winked. "As much nothing as you can. That is what you do."

After Pryn finished drying her hair she walked to her room, bare assed as usual. Nick's door was open and he was not there. She peeked around her own door frame and flipped the light switch. He was not waiting for her there, either.

Pryn sat at her vanity and brushed her hair in preparation for Daddy's inspection. The door to the garage downstairs slammed. Pryn thought it was Daddy returning from the supermarket. Then she heard the signature sound of Nick taking the steps two-at-a-time.

His head snaked around Pryn's doorframe. "Hey," he said. Nick looked considerably more relaxed.

Pryn blinked. "Where were you?"

"Taking out the trash." Nick smiled.

Pryn heard the door to the garage kiss open and shut again. Nick continued to stare a creepy stare at Pryn. "Do you want something?" Pryn asked. "Dad's home."

"No, that's Mom," Nick smirked. "She was helping me take out the trash."

"Since when does Mo-- Oh." Pryn stopped herself in a disgusted downbeat. "Whatever. You'll be in as much trouble for that with Daddy if not more."

"Mom understands how things are," Nick said. "She understands that sometimes you have to take risks or things can go bad for you down the road." Nick smirked and gave Pryn an icy squint.

Pryn's mind raced to stay one step ahead of her devious brother. "Hey, I was taking plenty of risk. I did what you said. You're the one who chickened out and left."

"If you hadn't been such a pricktease bitch, I would have been done by the time Mom got to the door."

"Whatever." Pryn pursed her lips and returned to brushing her hair. "I've got to get pretty for Daddy. He's inspecting me tonight."

"Yeah." The venom in Nick's voice made Pryn's blood run cold. "Whatever. I'll remember that, sister. 'Whatever.' "

"Hey, Nick. NICK!" Pryn shouted. Nick's head reappeared.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, don't be like that. Where did Mom... You know."

"There's a spot on the side yard by the garage where Dad doesn't have a camera."

"Oh. By the Flame Oak?"

"Yeah."

"She did it outside in yard? Where the neighbors could see?"

"It's really dark on that side of the house. No streetlights. And besides, Mom is really good. A lot better than you. It didn't take her very long at all."

"It's fricking cold out there."

"I don't care."

"Oh, okay. Well maybe you could show me where that place is tomorrow?"

"Fuck you." Nick stormed off.

"Oh boy," Pryn muttered to herself. "What ever happened to my sweet baby brother?"

Nick was surly walking to the bus stop the next morning. Nick was surly when Pryn crossed his path in A-Hall on her way to Introductory French. They ran in different circuits of the Middle School and Pryn rarely saw Nick after they walked through the front door.

"Hey," Pryn smiled.

Nick looked up at her absently and his face soured into a scowl as he passed on his way to the cafeteria.

Nick was surly on the bus ride home, his hands folded over his chest and slouched into a perpetual frown out the bus window.

Pryn and Nick shuffled to the house, ten yards apart. Nick, ahead, stopped in his tracks as he turned the corner onto Chesapeake Court. Pryn caught up with Nick and saw it too.

Chapman Reynolds was on an A-frame ladder on the side of their house with the Flame Maple, installing a security camera. Chapman noticed the kids and waved.

Nick shook his head in anger. "You fucking snitch," he growled.

"I didn't say anything," Pryn said.

"You fucking rat fuck snitch."

"I'm serious, Nick, I d--"

"Oh shut the fuck up. You'll get yours" Nick shuffled to the house with his cheeks burning. "Happy fucking birthday."

Nick didn't eat any cake. He barely looked at the new Call-of-Duty game for his Playstation before nodding and tossing it back on the table. Pryn noted that they has spent more on Nick's consolation prize gift than they had on the headphones they purchased for Pryn's special day.

Chapman Reynolds seemed amused by his son's surly demeanor.

"Thirteen!" Daddy said. "And Prince Nicolai will be twelve in a couple months. Our youngsters are growing up."

"Don't I know it." Oks smiled and sipped at her hot decaf.

"Yep," nodded Clifton. "I was going to wait until Nick's birthday for the next part, but Ox thinks the time for it is now. Why don't you two head up to Pryn's room."

Pryn and Nick looked at each other. They slid out of their chairs and walked up the stairs.

"What'd you tattle now, snitchbitch?" Nick mumbled.

Pryn could only sigh.

Upon arriving in her room, Pryn wasn't sure if she was supposed to disrobe or not. It was still early in the evening.

Daddy breezed through the door. "Take off your clothes."

Pryn stood and unbuttoned her pants.

"Not you," Daddy said. "Him."

Nick was confused. He stood and slowly pulled off his shirt, shoes, and jeans. He pushed his underwear over his knees. Nick's little weenie was as small as Pryn could remember seeing it since he was a baby. It looked like it was trying to crawl backwards and hide in his balls.

"So," Daddy said, "Last night I was kissing my wife and I tasted come that wasn't mine. You know anything about that, Son?"

Nick shook his head no. His knees began to shake.

"No? Really? You don't know anything about that?"

"No sir."

"Oh. Okay. Well if it wasn't you, then your mom must have been sucking off the neighbors. Probably Verhagen. Not you, huh?"

Nick paused and considered. "No sir."

"Well somebody is getting an ass beating for my wife having a cummy trampmouth. If it's not you, it's not you. I guess I can't be one hundred percent sure it's Verhagen, so that little shitbag lives another day. I guess that means I have no choice but to lay a beating on your mother's ass." Chapman Reynolds closed his mouth and stared Nick down for many long beats. "Don't I?" Daddy said.

Nick swallowed. He shrugged. His knees stopped shaking. "I guess so, Dad," Nick said. "If she's slutting around then you should definitely beat her ass."

Chapman blinked at Nick.

"And then," Nick continued, "I should beat her ass, too. I can't have a runaround slut for a mom. That's fucked up. I won't have it."

The smile that crossed Chapman's face was slow and soaked in pride. He nodded. "Excellent. I think we can make that happen, son."

Nick nodded.

Chapman Reynolds picked up a glass tube off Pryn's vanity. It had been sitting there the whole time and she had not noticed it. It was definitely a new suction cup, but it looked all wrong. It was too narrow and too long for Pryn's tits, and too wide in diameter for Daddy's pussy.

Daddy handed the glass to Pryn. "Here," he said. "Put your brother's cock in this."

Pryn crossed to Nick and instinctively dropped to her knees. She pinched up her brother's timid cock crown and easily threaded it into the opening of the tube. The glass made his wiener look even smaller. Daddy handed Pryn the suction bulb. Pryn knew exactly what to do with it.

"Gelking," said Daddy. "It works. As long as you start early, like we're doing with Pryn's tit cups, it works. Price Nicolai is going to require the Dick of Death, like his old man. The fur on his sack says it's time to get this party started. Pump it up, Pryn."

Pryn twisted the valve lock shut and pumped the air out of the tube around Nick's wiener. Immediately, Nick's member began to stretch and lift upwards.

"Seven days a week," Daddy said. "Either Pryn or your mother will gelk you. You'll stay in the tube for a full thirty minutes. More suction, Pryn. Stretch the little fuckstick out. There you go. Thirty full minutes. No cheating. Every night. When the gelk tube comes off you're going to be randy as fuck, Son. It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, Pop. It kind of feels good. Really good."

"Yep. That's why you're going to want to pull it off early. But that's not going to happen. And when you do get the gelk tube popped, you better keep your hard pecker out of my bitches when I'm home. You got that, Sport?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"From now on, I can trust you with your cups, Pryn. I put your new, bigger cups on top of your drawer so you can get them without Nicolai's key. You can keep up with the cups yourself now, can't you?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Chapman Reynolds nodded. "So it goes like this: Pryn gets her inspection. Nick gets gelked for thirty. Pryn goes to her room and cups those tits herself for thirty."

Pryn and Nick nodded. Nick's nostrils were flaring. His cock had gone fully erect in the glass tube and was dribbling clear from the tip. "More suction, Pryn," Nick said. Pryn squeezed the rubber ball until Nick's stretched dick turned red.

"Yeah, that's good," Nick said.

Chapman looked at Pryn. "When he says 'it's good,' give it three more pumps.

Pryn did.

Nick grimaced and arched his back.

"Gelk duty means you're losing another half hour of homework time at night, Pryn. You'll have to plan accordingly. I'll leave you two to your chores," Chapman Reynolds said. "I've got to go blister your whore mother's ass."

After Daddy walked out, Nick flopped backwards onto Pryn's bed. "Jeez, that feels good," Nick moaned. His fingers shamelessly began manipulating his testicles. Instinctively they raised up to be thwarted by the glass prophylactic. Nick breathed deeply.

"I can almost bust my nuts like this," he said.

Pryn watched with curiosity as the clear dribbles of Nick's pre-come began to flow faster into a steady waterfall of stickum around his cock.

"Fuck," Nick panted. "Is it time? It's been like thirty minutes."

Pryn looked at the clock. "It has only been six minutes."

"Christ!" Nick said. "I'm dying here."

Pryn pointed at the camera on her ceiling. "Thirty."

"Shit," Nick said. "If I could just come, it wouldn't be so bad. I could totally come."

Pryn shrugged. "So come."

Nick closed his eyes. He bucked his hips and pulled at his own nutsack. His hand instinctively lifted back to his cock and closed around the circumference of the glass instead. Nick squeezed the glass, as if that would make a difference. It didn't. Nick opened his eyes and looked down in frustration at the block on his cock.

"Scratch my bag, Sis."

"I can't."

"It's not sex. Dad won't care."

"It's sex if it makes you come."

"I'm serious. Just rub 'em a little. I've got to pop or I'm going to lose my mind."

"Nick..."

Nick grabbed Pryn's hand and pushed it against his balls. Pryn sighed and looked up at the camera. She gently massaged Nick's sack.

"Ahhhh yeah!" Nick's eyes went to slits. "Like that. Now do the thing with your fingernails. OH FUCKING YES!!!" Nick thrashed so hard that the gelk tube smacked hard into his stomach, but the suction didn't break. Pryn noted that the tip of Nick's dick had transitioned from crimson to purple. She knew enough about boys to know Nick was hurting for relief.

The piercing sound of a woman's scream shot up through the air vents. Then another, even more pained and horrible than the first.

Brother and sister looked at each other.

"Mom's getting it," Pryn said.

"Keep rubbing," Nick said.

"You should have told the truth."

"The truth is that it was Mom's idea. She wanted to suck my cock. She begged for it. Then she went at it like she was possessed. She sucked cock like she absolutely loves to suck cock. She said I have a great cock and she loved sucking it."

"She just said that to make you come fast," Pryn said.

"No, she said it 'cause she thinks I'm awesome and she's a slut."

"Okay," Pryn gave up.

More screams. Pryn flinched every time. She thought back to the day she found her traumatized little brother wedged between the washer and the dryer with his hands clamped over his ears. Now that same boy was lying on his back and his cock was pulsing and twitching with every scream.

"Are you really going to whip Mom?" Pryn asked.

Nick nodded. "I've been thinking about it for a while. It's time that she learn that I'm the boss when Dad isn't here. It'll be good for her to learn a lesson."

"She knows you're the boss."

"How much longer?"

"Sixteen minutes."

"Christ! Yeah, Mom says she knows I'm the boss, but then she's got kind of that... That... Mom-thing attitude where she's all haughty and shit like she thinks she really runs the place."

"That's all in your head, Nick."

"Yeah, maybe. But it's going to be all over her ass when I'm done with her. Mom's got a great ass. It'll be fun to watch her wiggle it when I crop it nice-and-hard."

"That's mean," Pryn said.

Nick opened his eyes. "You don't know what 'mean' is, Little Miss Whatever. Something for you to think about. Dad leaves for Brazil in February. Then this house is going to be Prince Nick's rooster hut for four full months. I'm probably going to make Mom suck my cock too. Do it right in front of the camera. If Dad calls I'll just tell him to fuck off and hang up. Then make Mom suck me off again."

Pryn shuddered. "Did Dad really say that? February?"

"February tenth. I'm counting the days. How much longer?"

"Thirteen days."

"No, dumbass! I meant the timer on the tube."

"Six minutes."

Oksana's sharp screams started again, higher in pitch.

"Dad's still beating ass. He's not going to know." Nick reached for the pressure release pin at the top of the gelk tube.

"No! Nick! You're going to get me in trouble!"

"So?"

Pryn's mind raced. "Wait. Hang on. Let's try something." Pryn dropped her head and began licking her brother's balls. Her tongue worked the sides and bottoms. Her hands pressed into Nick's stomach at the top of his pelvic bone in an attempt to distract him. Nick moaned like a lawn mower. He went stiff. Pryn looked up at the sticky glass, but Nick hadn't spermed. It was hard to tell with all the pre-come sloshing around on the inside of the glass, but she was pretty sure he had not popped.

Pryn opened her mouth wide and sucked in half of Nick's tight sack. Nick's moan jumped an octave. Pryn gummed Nick's testicle gently, applying only a kiss of delicate suction.

Nick's hand slapped against the comforter over and over.

Pryn switched to the other testicle. Nick roiled with pleasure. Pryn looked at the clock. Two minutes. Pryn switched to a flat, wet tongue across the front of Nick's fuzzy nuts, painting back and forth.

Nick's butt pushed up off the covers as he went stiff.

One minute left.

Pryn kissed warm pecks back and forth on each ball. Nick's hand tangled into her hair. Pryn kept her top lip wedged in the thin separation of testicals and snaked the tip of her tongue up the back side of Nick's bag.

Nick rocked up onto his feet, dumping Pryn into the floor in the process. Nick's face was pure fury. He fumbled to find the pressure pin on the gelk tube. He tried a futile attempt to just pull the tube off his cock. Pryn knew that wouldn't work. The suction on the cups and tubes was unbreakable.

Nick finally made the tube hiss air and yanked off the tube. He showed his teeth and he gripped his purple cock and stroked it rapidly.

Hot jets of white rope sailed through the air and rained down on Pryn. Nick's come felt hot enough to burn where it landed. Nick snarled and kept pumping. Pryn had never seen Nick's come since it spermed up. It had always flooded her mouth before she swallowed it. Seeing the sheer quantity of it spraying across her room baffled her. Stunned her.

Yes, it impressed her. That was a hell of a lot of come to fit in those tight, small balls.

Nick leaned over and panted. He stepped over Pryn and pulled two more hot strings from the tip and down on his sister's face. Pryn flinched as it spattered her eye.

Nick pulled his shoulders back and marched out, leaving his clothes behind. "Empty my pockets and put my stuff in the hamper, bitch."

Somewhere in the house, Oksana Reynolds screamed out at a new barrage of cane blisters being applied to her ass.

Pryn mopped the burning come from her eye with her brother's discarded shirt.

FEBRUARY 2003

Pryn naively thought she knew pain. She thought -- after her unusual upbringing -- no amount of abuse could phase her. In thirteen years she had experience torture from head to toe. From the time Daddy caned the bottoms of her feet for wearing shoes she kept after he disallowed them during her Daddy Dance, to the time Nick nearly pulled her scalp off when he was manhandling her in anger.

And everything in between.

Yes, Pryn thought she knew pain.

She was wrong.

Gymnastics lessons left her aching from the marrow of her skeleton to two inches of radiation past her clothes. Tears whetted her corneas as she walked to her mother's car. Every step triggered a hot reflex of aching muscles and barking tendons.

She felt as though she had been struck by a bus.

Pryn had never been as happy in her entire life.

Coach Petroli was right. Pryn took to the mats and vaults like a duck to corn silo. Girls who had been in the program for five years struggled to flip on the balance beam. Those girls suffered from the unfortunate normality of fear. Pryn didn't know that kind of fear. She didn't fear pain. She feared Madam Breshevilski placing a well-meaning hand on Pryn's shoulder and asking her to come into her office.

That's what happened to Karmani Davis. Karmani ran out of the office crying and into the locker room. Pryn's ears piqued when Madam B returned and stood next to Madam Clarice.

"Didn't take it well," Clarice mumbled.

"Ees not for everyone. No point in wasting money for those who cannot compete. She go be cheerleader or flag gir-rul or someting make goot picture for yearbook. She no goot for floor. She no goot for bars. She no goot for beam. She no goot for club. Winners stay. Theese ees not YMCA."

It had been such an uphill battle to get her father to write the check, Pryn never considered that she could be waved out of the gymnastics club for lack of skill. Pryn's heart clenched into a stone. Pryn was not going in that office. No ma'am. It would take Madam B and Madam C and Mister Schuester dragging her by her legs as her fingernails left ten parallel rips in the floor mats.

Pryn loved gymnastics with parts of her heart that she never knew existed. She inhaled he dust of the resin chalk like perfume. The industrial tang of the smell of the antibacterial mat wash coated her sinuses and left Pryn light-headed. For five hours a week, she was her own person. She belonged to no one but indifferent gravity and the limitations of her will. After a long and complicated floor tumble, Pryn stuck the landing, stepped backwards, and raised her hands into swan wings. Pryn was certain that if she were not careful, she'd lower her hands too quickly and swoop upwards into the rafters of the gym.

Oks tossed her keys in the bowl on the kitchen island. Pryn crossed through the living room. Daddy was tunnel-vision focused on CNN International and Nick was sprawled out over the loveseat, poking at his new laptop.

"How'd it go?" Daddy mumbled without looking up as Pryn approached the couch.

"Another glorious day in the corps," Pryn answered. Daddy absently extended his hand and daughter and father did something that approximated a drive-by high five.

"Hey sis, c'mere!" Nick sat up on the love seat. "I want to show you something."

"What?" Pryn dropped her gym bag.

Nick looked up and creased his lips. "What's with your hair?"

"It's a bun."

"It looks stupid."

"I have to wear it up. It's too long for tumbling."

"Can't you wear a ponytail?"

"Still too long."

"It looks stupid."

Pryn rolled her eyes and reached behind her head for the rubber band holding her coif knot. She pulled her hair back into a matted curtain with her fingers. "Better?"

"Much. Take off your clothes," Nick said.

"What? No! Daddy's home."

"He doesn't care. He said that being naked isn't the same thing as sex. Didn't you, Dad?"

"Shut up. I'm trying to hear this."

"See," said Nick. "Strip."

Pryn was still not convinced. "Dude, I'm still sweating like a hog. I smell like a dirty sock. Lemme shower first, okay?"

"Pryn," Nick said.

"PRYN!" Chapman Reynolds shouted. Pryn's feet skipped. "LISTEN TO ORDERS FROM THE MEN OF THIS HOUSE!"

"Okay, jeez!" Pryn said. Her face flushed with anger and she began stripping off sweaty overshirts and peeling her sticky unitard below. Finally she was naked. "Now what?" she asked.

Nick smiled and patted his lap. "Sit."

Pryn sat in her brother's lap. She felt his erection immediately. Nick brought the laptop back onto Pryn's lap. The battery on the bottom was uncomfortably warm on her skin.

"I want you to see this," Nick said. He fingered the mousepad and clicked on a dark square of screen. The darkness was replaced by a video: A beautiful older brunette was on her hands and knees, perched on a white couch in a nice office. She had tits like water balloons swinging between her arms and a tattoo on her shoulder. A man with a blur surrounding his face was fucking her from behind.

"Look, this guy is like a talent agent in Los Angeles or New York or something. She came in thinking the guy was going to take pictures of her for magazines and Cosmo and shit. And he like totally tricked her into fucking. Isn't that funny?"

Pryn watched. "She's a lot older than he is. Even without seeing his face, you can tell."

"He's fucking her like you when you're in the first part of your inspection! Isn't that funny?" Nick giggled.

Pryn wasn't sure if Nick was putting her on. "So? That's one of the ways people have sex. It's called 'doggy' or 'doggy-style.' "

"Not like that! That's crazy!"

Pryn shook her head in amazement. "Dude, haven't you ever seen Mom and dad going at it like that? They screw like that all the time." Pryn looked up at her father not ten feet away. He was concentrating on the television and didn't seem to notice Pryn's question-mark expression.

"They do not!"

Pryn started to insist but checked herself. "Okay. If you say so."

"Seriously?"

"You've never walked in on Mom and dad when they were going at it?"

"Sure. But not like that."

"Really? I've never seen them do it missionary. I've only seen them do it doggy."

"What's missionary?"

"Mom on her back. Regular."

"Oh. Why is called that?"

"John Missionary invented it."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

Pryn dipped her chin to her chest and willed herself not to slap her own forehead. "Anything else? I want to grab a shower before dinner."

Nick wrinkled his nose. "Seriously. You smell like ass."

"I warned you," Pryn said. She lifted off Nick's lap.

"Hey," Nick grasped Pryn's wrist to stopped her. "When Dad leaves, I'm going to fuck you like this. Doggy."

Pryn's face burned. Her eardrums fizzled to white noise. She looked in panic at her father. "Daddy, did you just hear Nick?"

Chapman Reynolds broke his concentration from the television, clearly annoyed. "What? Huh?"

"Did you hear what Nick just said about what he's going to do to me when you go to Brazil?"

Chapman blinked rapidly and shrugged his shoulders. "The fuck do I care what Nick does or doesn't do when I'm gone? It's Nick's house when I'm gone and you are Nick's bitch until I come home. I care what he said? What, is he going to hang you from your heels on the swing set out back and whack you in the face with a tennis racket over and over again? Because... If he said that... I DON'T FUCKING CARE. That's his business."

Pryn could see the flush of her own anger in the skin covering her sore arms.

"Four days!" Nick sang, holding up as many fingers.

"Yes, My Prince," Pryn muttered through clenched teeth, stooping to retrieve her clothes.

"Daddy, what's your rush?" Pryn asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're getting ready to leave on double deployment," Pryn said. "I'm not going to see you again for a while. You're not going to inspect me again for a long time, and you are all business tonight."

"What's your point?"

"Daddy, I'm not allowed to rub your pussy, and when it's Nick's pussy, he isn't taking very good care of it. Can you rub me for just a little bit?"

Chapman's hand slipped back between Pryn's thighs. "I thought you were a bit more wet than usual."

Pryn nodded. "I am. I need a little attention down there, Daddy."

Chapman squinted. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"You're up to something."

"Just enjoying your touch. Like a proper daughter should. Mmmm. That's nice, Daddy."

"Do tell."

"Nicky doesn't hardly spend any time with his pussy, Daddy. I've been thinking..."

"Here we go." Chapman smiled.

"I'm ready to give myself to you. All of me. Like you said. I'm ready to be yours and yours alone."

"And what would I want with a cherry, stick-up-the-ass girl like you? You don't have any suck skills. I can feel the strap across my pussy fuckhole and know you are still a virgin. I'm tired of training bitches. That's what your brother is for. He can carry the weight around here for a while."

"Daddy," Pryn begged, wiggling her hips, "I don't want Nicky to put a baby in me. If I'm going to have a baby, I want it to be yours."

Chapman Reynolds laughed. "Yeah, I thought that was your play." He pulled his fingers from his pussy and sucked them. "You were wet, though." Chapman turned to leave.

"No, please!" Pryn grabbed her father's wrist and pulled it back between her legs. "Don't stop. I'm horny."

"I'll send Nick in. He can get an early jump on reclaiming his bitch."

"NO! Please! Daddy. I mean it. I'm ready for you."

Chapman Reynolds resumed a circling tease of Pryn's clit. His clit. Nick's clit. "Girl, you aren't ready for me to own you. Soon though. Perhaps when I return home. If Nicolai does what I think he's going to do when I leave,. then the next time I'm home I'll entrust Oksana to him. That will take a lot of pressure off you. If you are still ready to give yourself to me then, we can discuss it when I return."

"Ohhhh, Dad-deeee..." Pryn arched her back and humped her father's educated fingers. "I'm too little to have a baby."

"No you're not."

"Please, Daddy. Don't make me get pregnant by Nick. Oh gawd, that feels good. I'm going to come."

"I tell you what," Chapman said, "I'll meet you half way. I can probably keep Nick's come out of our pussy for as long as it takes to cycle you through a month of birth control. When do you bleed next?"

"I start next Wednesday or Thursday."

"Okay. So here's the deal. It's eight-eighteen right now. If you haven't orgasmed by eight thirty, I'll keep Nick out of our pussy until you have been on The Pill for a month. Is that fair?"

Pryn's knees twitched. "I'm not sure I can hold off if you keep rubbing like that."

"That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

"Okay," Pryn whispered. Her heels kicked and thumped back on the bed. "Crap, that feels amazing."

"Okay what? Do we have a deal? Just don't come for the next couple of minutes and I'll keep a baby out of that womb."

"Deal," Pryn whispered. Daddy's fingers were not making it easy. She was closer to orgasm than she wanted to be.

"Alright, then." Daddy picked Pryn up like a rag doll and repositioned her on the bed. He pushed his scratchy stubble through her thighs and kissed his pussy while his thumb pushed happy juice back-and-forth across Pryn's peek-a-boo button. Daddy's hot breath on vulnerable pink sex made Pryn gush. Daddy's free hand reached up and pinched Pryn's nipple. A second later his thick tongue swept up the wet folds and pushed her sex gush across her clit like a spatula spreading frosting across the top of a cake.

Pryn arched and both her hands combed into the back of Daddy's thick hair. Daddy fluttered his tongue against Pryn's button, making dozens of soft, wet, bumpity-bumpity-bumpities every second. Pryn cried out and trashed. She had not even lasted three minutes.

Daddy chuckled to himself and pulled up to kiss Pryn on the lips. He hinged her jaw down so he could force his pussy-laden tongue across Pryn's.

"So much for that," he laughed. He left Pryn shaking in post-orgasmic bliss and pre-procreative dread.

Oksana shook her head. "No. You are correct. It is not fair." She was angry.

Pryn could not remember the last time her mother was totally on her side.

"Daddy made me a promise," Oks said. "He is keeping his word, but he is also undermining the promise by having Nicolai breed you instead of him. This is bullshit."

"Mom, I don't want a baby."

"Water is wet. Stop telling me what I already know."

"What am I going to do?"

Oksana took a deep breath and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "First, we get you on pill next week. We hope your brother is not as fertile as he could be. That is the first thing. But we need more insurance. I have an idea, but we will not be certain it will work until it works."

"What?" asked Pryn.

"Nothing. The less you know, the better."

Pryn would have tripped over Daddy's luggage stacked in a line by the kitchen patio door, but someone had left the stovetop light on the range hood on "Low."

She flipped up the hoodie on the UK Wildcats sweatshirt she stole from Oksana and listened to the house. It was finally quiet, save for the heated air making the ductwork expand and pop. Finally. Chapman and Oksana had fucked four, very loud episodes before he finally cooled the lights, flushed the toilet, and fell into bed hard enough to make the frame creak.

Pryn's fingertips moved the latch on the kitchen door with slow precision. Then the doorknob. She stepped into the raw early hours of the day and eased the door shut behind her. As she circled the back yard toward the gate, she looked over at her parent's window to make sure it was still dark.

Out onto Chesapeake, and up the sidewalk toward Meramec. Then left on Twilly Court. The footfalls from her ballet flats on the sidewalk echoed through the empty streets. The knit skirt was too short for the crisp temperature and Pryn wished she still owned a pair of soft denim jeans. She stepped on the dried pod from a sweetgum tree tree and hopped in pain. "Farg!" she scream-whispered.

Troy's lawn was wet with frost and soaked Pryn's flats. She took a deep breath, leaned over the brambly yew, and knocked on Troy's window. A minute later she knocked again. The light went on. Pryn's heart stopped when the face of a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, pushed through the curtains. The girl looked at Pryn and rubbed her eyes.

Pryn's jaw dropped.

The little girl popped the latches on her window and raised it. "Hey," she whispered through the screen.

"I'm so sorry, honey. I got the wrong place. I'm so sorry. Go back to bed. Don't say anything to anyone." Pryn whispered.

"You want to talk to Troy?" the girl whispered. "You're the girl he was talking about, aren't you?"

Pryn nodded. "I hope so."

The little girl looked Pryn over. "Cool. Go around back. The lower door, not the one by the barbecue pit. I'll let you in."

Pryn debated whether or not to run while the girl closed and relocked her window. She found herself at the back door instead. A little hand reached through the vertical blinds and popped the lock. The glass door slid open and the girl pulled back the blinds.

"Sweetie, thank you," Pryn whispered. She turned sideways to fit through the gap, afraid to touch anything or push the door farther open. "I'm so sorry, but I don't know your name."

"Margie," whispered Margie.

"Of course," Pryn nodded. "Troy told me that. I forgot."

Margie closed the door behind Pryn. She was holding a flashlight, but the flashlight was powered off. Margie clicked it on and pointed the beam at a hollow core door. Pryn noticed she was in a finished basement.

The door opened and Troy Walker shielded his eyes against the flashlight beam. "What are you up to, Magpie?"

"Your girlfriend is here." Margie turned the flashlight on Pryn.

Troy blinked. "Hey, Pryn."

"Hey. I'm sorry."

Troy blinked again. Then he shrugged and waved Pryn toward his room. "C'mon in. Thanks, Magpie."

"No problem, bro."

That was so Troy. Girl in his basement at 2 a.m.? Shrug. Whatevs. Come on on in.

Troy's room had no windows, only wood panel walls with motorcycle posters taped to them. It smelled like a boy's unwashed sheets.

"Troy, I am so sorry. I assumed you were still in your old room."

"Don't worry about it," Troy awakened a purple lava lamp on top of his chest-of-drawers. In the glow of the lamp, Pryn could see he was only wearing flannel pajama pants. His long, dark hair was mussed and he clawed at a persistent kernel of crust in one eye. He flopped back on his bed and propped his head on a hand.

Pryn waited for Troy to ask what she was doing in his house at 2 a.m.. He didn't. He just squinted at her with bedroom eyes.

Pryn hinged her feet up behind her and pulled off her wet flats. Then grabbed the collar of the hoodie and pulled that off too. She paused, then dropped her skirt. She crawled into Troy's bed and kissed him. Soft. Slow. Lippy.

Troy kissed back, just the way Pryn remembered it. His finger tips tucked Pryn's hair behind her ear. Pryn kissed again, opening her mouth. Troy followed with a languid tongue. His arms wrapped around Pryn.

Pryn ached for Troy to put her at ease and tell her that their awkward situation was not totally weird.

Troy wasn't a talker.

Pryn's hand slid down Troy's flat stomach through bristles of wispy hair until she snagged on his pajamas. Her fingers pulled at the weak spots in the drawstring until it surrendered. Her needy mouth tied a knot of slow frenzy from the boy's pliable lips. Her hand pushed lower into the pajamas until it connected with Troy's thickening member. Pryn's hand instinctively felt for the cock head. She couldn't find it. She slipped her hand up and down, exploring. She squeezed hard. Troy's dick turned to granite. Again her hand felt for the break in the crown, but something was wrong. It was there, but not there.

Troy broke the kiss. "I'm not circumcised. Is that what you're feeling?"

"I guess."

"Yeah. My parents are kind of hippies. Sorry if that grosses you out."

"No, that's cool." Pryn re-engaged her kiss. She didn't know what circumcise meant. The thrumming cock in her fingers felt sizable enough. Bigger than Nick. Smaller than Daddy. Considering Pryn's mission, she secretly hoped that Troy was a pencil dick. So much for that. He had a respectable kielbasa.

Troy's hand locked on the outside of Pryn's shirt, gently rubbing her tit.

Pryn's hand responded with circular torque strokes on Troy's cock.

Troy began to breath through his nose and his hand found Pryn's bare stomach and upswept to her brassiere-free nipple.

Pryn froze.

Troy felt her stiffen and dropped the breast.

Pryn took deep breaths and stood out of the bed. The lava lamp was beginning to warm and the dim light of the room was a melange of paisley shadows and aimless purple amoebas oozing across the paneling.

Pryn carefully mapped Troy's expression. She tried to read him.

He grinned a small smirk. "You leaving?" he mumbled. "Okay, let me walk you home." Troy pulled back the sheets.

Pryn answered by pulling her shirt over her head and pushing her panties down over her knees. She climbed back on the bed and pulled the topsheets over both Troy and herself.

"I can't stay long," Pryn whispered.

"Okay," Troy said.

"I'm a virgin," Pryn said.

"That's cool. No bigs," Troy said.

"Troy, shut up. I want you to make love to me."

Troy blinked. He blinked some more. He tossed a shrug. "Okay," he said. "I don't have a condom."

"Don't worry about it. I'm on The Pill," Pryn lied. If she was going to breed, she wanted it to be Troy's secret baby and not her stupid brother's DNA. "Can you go slow? Please?" Pryn asked.

"I can go slow," Troy whispered, kicking his pajamas down into the tangle of bedclothes. "I can go as slow as you need me to."

Young Troy Walker turned out to be a man of his words, precious few they were.

Chapman and Oks were already gone for the airport when the kids loaded out the door for the bus. Nick patted Pryn on the ass. "Count down to Doggy Fuck Day is over, sister!" he smiled. "I'm going to fuck you ten times when you get home from gymnastics. Then I'm going to take you in the shower, soap you up and wash you good. Then I'm going to fuck you ten more times."

Pryn rolled her eyes and kept walking. She angered at herself. Ignoring Nick was the wrong play. Nick was feeding on her fear. She should have said something slutty and naughty right back to him about how she couldn't wait to get a pounding from her brother. She should have said something, anything. Anything would have been better than folding in on herself and ignoring Nick's boasts.

She waited for Nick to say something else so she could vamp an inappropriate comeback. He didn't.

Half way to school, Pryn stopped staring out the bus window and noticed Nick, four rows up on the opposite side. He was smiling at her over the back of his seat. He raised one "OK" splay of fingers just above the seat. His other index finger poked through the loop of thumb and forefinger. He smiled an evil smile.

Pryn squinted and lasciviously washed the tip her tongue across her top lip in a show of slutty ecstasy. She turned her head to see Millie Trautwine next to her staring at her lewdness and stopped immediately. Pryn turned her attention back to the cars parked on the street and felt her cheeks burn.

"You're late, Mom. I'm freezing." Pryn threw her gym back into the back seat of the new family Camry and assumed shotgun.

"Sorry," Oks said. "I was finishing up some chores."

Pryn fixed her seat belt. "What happened to you, Mom? You been exercising or something? You look a mess."

Oks smiled. "A little. Some chores are more rigorous than others."

Pryn's nose wrinkled. "Does the car smell funny to you?"

"No," Oks said. "Not at all."

"Smells like the time you and Daddy fucked in it."

Oks smiled again. "Which of the million times that your father fucked me in a car was that?"

Pryn offered a look of disgust. "You two. Jeez. You'd think you were newlyweds."

"Your father has a high sex drive. Your brother too."

"Yeah," Pryn sighed. She lapsed into silence. Her pussy (Nick's pussy) was in serious agony. It still hurt from Troy's deflowering, even though the boy could not have been any more gentle or patient. It hurt from the moment she woke up to the time she walked into gymnastics. Madam C had been merciless with stretching exercises, and any mending Pryn's twat (Nick's twat) might have sewn together during the day was ripped back apart while she was doing splits on the mat and Madam C pressed Pryn's chest forward. Pryn hurt more now than she had waddling home from Troy's house in the dark. Her crotch was absolutely on-fire and it was about to get plowed by her horny brother.

Once home, Pryn accepted her fate. She took some comfort that any baby that came from the unholy union awaiting her would probably be Troy's beautiful, laid-back child with moppy hair, and not a six-armed retarded incest baby of her brother's making.

Nick was on the couch doing homework.

Pryn tried to walk past.

Pryn stopped, clenched her teeth, and turned.

Nick pointed at the back of his head. "What'd I tell you about the bun?"

"Oh sorry," Pryn said. She reached back and dropped it.

"That's better," Nick nodded. His pencil resumed interest in a math workbook and mated up with a clear protractor.

Pryn waited for a few minutes after she peeled her sweaty clothes. Then she took her shower.

Then she fixed dinner.

Then she ate dinner.

Then she started her homework.

Then she finished her homework.

Then she watched a half hour of Everybody Loves Raymond.

Then she went to bed and turned the lights out.

Then she waited. And waited. And waited.

She heard Nick take the stairs two-at-a-time, go in his room, and close the door.

Pryn waited.

She heard his light click off.

"Here we go," thought Pryn. She waited. Any second, Nick would bellow for her. Aaaaany second.

Pryn waited.

Nick was uncharacteristically quiet the next morning. He grilled himself chunks of steak for breakfast and washed it down with pineapple juice. He left for the bus stop without waiting for Pryn.

"Remember," Oks said. "I will pick you up after third period. We have your OBGYN visit today."

"Yeah. Thanks Mom."

"Afterwards, perhaps we can go shopping? Get lunch, just you and me?"

Pryn shook her head. "If I don't go back to school after lunch, I can't go to gymnastics. That's the rule."

"I understand. Perhaps you can get a ride home from practice today? I might be running late again."

"Sure. Tess said her mom could trade rides with you once in a while. I'll ask her and leave a message on the answering machine either way. What are you doing?"

Oksana smiled. "Chores, darling. I told you."

Pryn's gut turned hard as the thought flashed through her head. "Mom..." Pryn looked up at the camera in the kitchen ceiling and covered her mouth with her hand like an NFL coach calling plays on television. "You're not..." she whispered through her fingers. "You and Mr. Verhagen?"

Oks laughed. "No! Not that. Well, yes that. But not Tom. Not for a long time. No, I'm fucking your brother to give you time for the pills to kick in. Every day that I fuck his balls dry is one more day that you might make it."

"Seriously? What Daddy catches you?"

"That is why I'm fucking him in the car, Darling. We go park out by the river where I can see cars coming for a half mile. Then we climb in back and... He is not a bad fuck. I think you are going to be impressed."

"What if you get pregnant by Nick?"

Oks laughed again. It was a hollow, sad laugh. "No more babies for me." Oks's smiled twisted into a bitter grimace. "Don't you dare tell your father, but I took care of that the third time I had to give one of my sons to the abortion doctor. No more. I took care of that problem for the last time. That is why your father is so mad at me all the time, thinking that his inability to put child in me is my fault. Well it is. Had I known seven years ago that one day you would be pressed to have the baby that I could not... I perhaps would have chose different."

"Wow."

"Be ready to for pickup at eleven-thirty. I called the desk. They said you can sign yourself out and in."

Pryn regretted not accepting her mother's offer for a girls' afternoon when the sickness hit her like a bullet to the gut, half way through fifth period.

Pryn ran to the bathroom and vomited. It did not make her feel better. She was still queasy. The OB warned her.

The doctor sat between the stirrups, took one look at Nick's pussy, and then asked Oksana to leave the room. She looked at the freshly ripped maidenhead between Pryn's legs and immediately knew her crime, including the timeframe that it happened, and she knew the boy had spermed Pryn. She knew everything but the boy's name.

"When do you menstruate, assuming you aren't already pregnant?" the doctor asked.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Sheesh. You couldn't have timed this any worse," the doctor said. "It's too early for an accurate pregnancy test and if we wait two more days for your cycle, it will be too late for your eggs. I'm going to put you on Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

"It's a pill the size of a bird's egg, and it's going to make you sick as a dog. It will prevent your egg from dropping if it has fertilized. You should be able to start your regular cycle of Ortho-Novum as soon as your period is over."

The doctor spent another twenty minutes bending Pryn's ear about the horrors of herpes and chlamydia and showing her the wire mechanism used to scrape vaginal warts.

Thinking about the wire scraper tool triggered Pryn to throw up twice more in Sixth Period, which got her sent to the school nurse over Pryn's objections. The nurse called Oks, but Oks did not answer. The final bell sounded and Pryn convinced the nurse that she was well enough to ride the bus home.

Pryn circled back to the car pool lane and got in the van that ferried the gymnasts to Madam B's. She was not going to miss gymnastics, even if they had to carry her into the gym on a stretcher.

Six minutes into stretching, Madam C was all over Pryn.

"Sorry," Pryn moaned. "I think I'm having a really heavy period. I'm sorry."

Madam C took a long look at Pryn. "Holy crap," she said. "You are white as a sheet. Go see Mr. Schuester and tell him to give you a cold press for your head and a hot water bottle for your stomach."

Pryn made it home before Mom and Nick. When they arrived, Oks brought with her a bucket of take-out chicken. Nick brought a leg of chicken up to Pryn's room where she lay on her side.

"Hey Prynter!" Nick sang. His shirt collar and pits were ringed with sweat. "We picked up chicken!"

Nick stuck the fried leg under Pryn's nose and before she could stop herself she threw up all over the chicken and most of Nick's hand.

"FUCK!" he screamed. "You're fucking disgusting. MOM! Pryn threw up on me!"

A combination of Nick's disgust and Oksana's fuck skills kept Pryn's brother at bay for another night. Sometime in the blackness, the nausea faded and cramps took their place. Pryn was flowing so bad she had to get up and change her pad four times in as many hours. She was bleary eyed the next morning, but made it to school.

By the time she arrived at gymnastics, she was almost normal, as periods go.

Her mother picked her up from Madam B's and Oks warned Pryn that she couldn't get Nick to come in the back of the car at the park. "A ranger was parked, watching us. Every time I moved the car, he moved to watch us. I tried to take him with my hand, but Nick said he would rather just wait."

"I'm bleeding like a stuck pig," Pryn said. "Good luck."

"I'm bleeding like a stuck pig," Pryn said, peeling her pad away from a vagina caked in red mucus. "Good luck."

Nick stepped back from his sister's bed and nearly retched. "GUHG! Put your panties back on! That's awful!"

"Okay, if you say so."

"Don't do that again!" Nick said. "Next time just tell me. Christ!"

"Yessir."

"Kneel," Nick pointed at his floor.

Pryn went to her knees.

Nick dropped his pants and stepped out, "Suck," he pointed at his dick.

Pryn did. She sucked. She slurped. Nick stood with his fists on his hips like Superman. Pryn let herself moan a little. She remembered to tickle Nick's balls, but gymnastics had broken away all her long nails. She had to dig a little at Nick's sack to get a reaction moan from him.

Finally she felt his nuts jump tight against the sides of his throbbing shaft and he unloaded gallons of hot paste onto the back of Pryn's tongue and down her throat. Pryn gulped thick sperm and then gulped down some more.

Nick stepped backwards to break the suction and sat in his desk chair. "Wow. You're getting to be a good cocksucker, sis."

"Thanks." Pryn cleaned the corners of her mouth with a pinkie and then sucked it clean while Nick watched. She was sure she could see Nick flinch with every loud pop of suction off her finger.

"You did it really nice that time. Not like a stuck-up bitch, but like you love to suck cock. Like Mom does."

For once, Pryn was ahead of the moment. She thought about what Daddy had said about the things a girl can give even when she's already a kept sex slave. Attitude was one of those things.

"I like to suck your cock," Pryn said. "You've got a nice cock, brother. Really. You've got a lot of stamina now. I like that. I like the way you make me work for your come. It makes me... Respect you."

"Yeah," Nick smiled a smug half-grin. "I'm getting the Dick-of-Death."

"You sure are," Pryn nodded. "And it's so big, my prince." Pryn leaned forward and kissed a pearl off Nick's dripping meatus. "Can it go again? Please, my prince? Can I have another mouthful of you? A little more come for your horny sister? Pleeeeeeze?"

Nick turned into a Cheshire Cat. "Come back in an hour and do my gelk tube. You can suck it again when I'm done stretching."

"Oh, I'd love to!" Pryn wondered if her acting was over-the-top, but Nick seemed to eat it up.

Ten minutes into Nick's gelking, Pryn knew it was on again. Nick's cock, under suction, was flushing and twitching sticky kisses against the glass like a spitting cobra trapped in a too-small herpetarium.

"Suck my balls, bitch." Nick laced his hands between his head and the pillow and smiled a contented smile.

APRIL 2014

Pryn didn't keep a lot of minutes on her pre-paid phone. She didn't need them. ie was the only one she called besides Uber, Northway Cab, and her managers at Capprizino's. Her phone didn't even have Snake and Rabbit Hunt. It was just a clamshell burner, and it was uncomfortable to use for any long period of time.

The conversation with Braden was awkward enough without Pryn checking the kitchen clock and wondering when the minutes were going to run out. Probably at the worst possible time in the conversation.

"C'mon," Braden said. "I had to do something wrong. I had such a good time. You seemed to have a good time. There's something you aren't telling me."

Pryn switched the phone to a less sweaty ear. "Honey, please. Don't do this. It has nothing to do with you. You're a wonderful man. I'm just not ready for a steady relationship right now. I'm working my shit out and I need to stay away from guys for a while."

"Well." Braden breathed into his phone for what felt like minutes. When he spoke again, Pryn couldn't miss the bitterness in his voice. "You seem to have your mind made up. I think I'm on record as saying I don't think this is entirely fair. You should at least have a decent reason for blowing me off. But. Okay. Okay, Polly Dawson. I give up."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Sure. Keep my number. You never know what will happen down the road."

"Okay. I will. Again, I'm really sor--"

Braden hung up.

MARCH 2003

"Hey stop. Stop for a minute, dammit!"

Pryn could not have imagined Troy Walker so... Not cool. He was pinching the sleeve of her sweater to a pointy stretch behind her arm.

"Troy, let me go, I'm late for Composition."

"No. Talk to me. Why are you avoiding me? What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No. You're wonderful. You're a true gentleman. The best."

"So why do you keep blowing me off? What's with the light switch thing you do? You're on. You're off." Troy leaned in and whispered discretely. "You show up in the middle of the night in my bedroom. Then you won't even sit next to me on the bus? Pryn, what the fuck is going on?"

"I... Troy... It's hard to explain."

"Explain."

"I'm late for class."

"Okay, sit by me on the bus. Let's talk this out."

"I've got gymnastics tonight."

"Call me. I'll call you."

"NO! Don't call. Oh, honey, this is really complicated. I'm really complicated."

"No shit." Troy arched his eyebrows. "Just talk to me, babe. I'll understand."

Tears materialized out of nowhere. Pryn had never considered that she was hurting Troy. He was just a planet that crossed her orbit every eight years. And the boy was so damn sweet. Pryn felt terrible. She felt as manipulative as the rest of her family.

"What now? What did I say?" Troy pleaded. "Why are you crying?"

Pryn cried even harder. "Nothing. You never do anything wrong. You are the perfect guy and I'm just really fucked up." She wiped the spill off her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Fresh tears replaced the missing. "Can..." Pryn sniffed. "Can I come see you tonight? Like late again?"

"Okay. I'll leave the back door open. Just come in. Wake me up if I'm asleep."

Pryn nodded and snuffed snot. "Okay. I'll be quiet."

Troy shrugged. "I'll tell my folks you're coming. They won't care. They're cool."

The bell rang. A sixth grade math teacher reached out to close the door to his room. "Move along, lovebirds. Get to class."

Troy raised his chin at Pryn and walked toward the stairwell.

"Pols did you seriously just dump, Braden?"

Pryn sighed. She could tell Joanie was mad again and she couldn't bear any more tension. "Yeah. Darlin' are you in a cab? I can barely hear you over the static."

"What's wrong with Braden?"

"There's nothing wrong with him. There's everything wrong with me."

"Oh what a load of happy horseshit," Joanie grumbled. "More of your 'I'm not worthy, poor pitiful me!' act."

"It's true. I'm not ready for a relationship. Maybe after I finish therapy."

"Nobody finishes therapy! You'll be a seventy-seven year old prune, drying up on a therapist's couch. A lonely-ass old hag."

"Harsh."

"This really complicates things between me and Charles."

"Oh shit," Pryn chuffed. "Don't put that on me."

"We could have double-dated. We could have done a lot of stuff together. Now I've got to work parties and invites and stuff around keeping you two apart. I've got to share my Charles-time with Braden when Charles is in town because we can't all hang out at the same time."

Pryn's temples began to throb and her jaw locked to hold the words in. "Joan, given what you know about my upbringing, are you really going to lean on me to be your whore, now? Fucking the guys you tell me to fuck? Entertaining strangers like an escort because it's convenient for you?"

Pryn squinted. Somehow she had said it anyway.

"Oh that was low," Joanie growled. "That was the most cunt thi--" BING! "Thank you for using UniTel. To reload additional minutes to your service contract, please press star three now."

Pryn remembered to pull her bun out before she walked in the house. She stopped at the refrigerator to pour a glass of orange juice. She popped the third Ortho-Novum in the line of white bubbles and washed it down.

Nick was talking to somebody that wasn't Daddy on his cell phone, watching some kind of anime on the television. He flipped Pryn "Hello" fingers and laughed at a joke Pryn couldn't hear.

She made her way to the master bath and stripped. She started the shower and held her hand in the spray until it was warm enough to step in. She pulled the curtain and let the warmth cut through the sticky shell coating her skin. She pushed her face into the hot mist and breathed it in.

The knock on the door was gentle, like Oks's.

"Hey, Prynter." It was Nick.

"Whatcha need?" Pryn asked.

"I'm coming in and I didn't want to scare you. In case you were shaving your legs. Or my pussy."

"No, I just got in."

"Cool."

Pryn's eyes shifted back and forth, waiting for Nick to get to his point so she could continue her shower. "Did you need something?"

The curtain pulled back and Nick -- naked -- stepped in. "I'm kind of funky too. I thought we could wash each other."

Pryn forced a smile. "Okay. Cool."

"I'm cold. Let me wet down." The two switched places until Nick's hair was wet. His cock was thick, but not erect.

Pryn traded back to the shower head and soaked her hair. She leaned back and Nick's fingers were in her hair, massaging it. She felt the lather and realized he was shampooing her. It felt nice. Nick grabbed the bar of soap and started rubbing it on Pryn's back. Pryn used body wash, not Nick's bar of soap, which was more suited to scrubbing engine oil off a man's hands than moisturizing the skin of a young girl. Nick worked the bar of soap down and made circles of lather on each of Pryn's ass cheeks. Nick pushed the soap through the line of her crack and his finger pushed the suds in and out of her asshole upon encounter. Pryn swayed forward with the probing. She put her palms against the tiles to steady herself.

Nick dropped to his knees and soaped around the trunk of Pryn's legs.

"Sheesh, sis," Nick said. "Your legs are all muscled up since you started gymnastics. They look great."

"Thank you, Nicolai," Pryn mumbled. Nick's soapy hands massaged her quads and her calves and it felt better than good.

"Seriously. You look like you could kick a bull through a bale chute. Really nice. Guys don't like muscles on girls, but all your tone is in your legs and your stomach. A little bit on your upper back. It's perfect. Really sexy."

"Thank you, my prince."

"Rinse."

Once Pryn was clean, Nick handed Pryn the bar of soap. "You do me." Nick raised his arms and Pryn soaped Nick's pits. Then the back of his neck. For a young boy, Nick was starting to take a cut. His hip bones were starting to break and his shoulders were wider by the day.

"Hang on," Nick said. He leaned over and pulled the drain stopper closed. "Okay, keep going."

No mistake what was next. Nick's cock was now at full-throttle. Pryn gave it a thorough soapy handjob until Nick breathed through his nose and began to squint. "Okay, that's enough," he said. "Don't pop me. We're going to do it tonight after you gelk me."

Nick turned around and Pryn soaped Nick's hard ass. It was beginning to take shape as well. Pryn soaped Nick's legs. He stepped back into the blast from the shower head and turned into a circle while the soap cascaded into the lifting broth rising in the closed tub. Nick flipped the switch on the shower head and the tub filled quickly from the spigot. Nick sat with his back against the hardware and motioned for Pryn to do the same with her legs on top of Nick's. Nick grabbed the bar of soap once more and lathered up the bottoms of Pryn's feet.

She struggled to not kick away her tickle response. The force of Nick's fingers seemed to cut lines right across her most sensitive nerves, the slippery action of the soap mitigating juuuuust enough friction to keep her brain from exploding.

Nick watched his sister squirm and smiled. "I don't remember you being ticklish."

"I don't remember ever being tickled on my feet. Jeez, Nick! Oh, you're killing me."

"I guess we can count this as your inspection," Nick smiled. "You are in fine fettle, sister. Clean feet and no bananas."

Pryn smiled. "That's going to be the title of my autobiography: 'Clean Feet and No Bananas. The Pryn Reynolds Story.' "

"Who is going to play you in the movie?"

"Cameron Diaz."

Nick flinched. "No! You're cuter than her."

"She's cute."

"No. She's cute to girls. Not hot to guys. When you smile you look a little like Cameron Diaz, but most of the time you don't. No, the shape of your face is more like Mila Kunis."

"She's a brunette."

"So? Dope! She can change her hair color. You don't have to pick a blonde actress because you're blond. Mila can wear a wig. She'd look just like you."

"Nick, keep tickling my foot like that and I'm going to pee in the tub."

"Is that better?"

Pryn nodded. "That's awesome. You never pamper me, you know that? I've sucked barrels of sperm out of your balls and you never dote on me like you're doing now."

"I never do what I'm doing now?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to wait to fuck you until after you gelk me. I want to do it now."

"Before dinner?"

"It'll keep. Or if it doesn't, I'll tell Mom to make another dinner."

Pryn looked at her little brother across the tub. He had so much potential to grow into a good man, but his maturity was undermined at every step by too much power, too much new testosterone, and too much spoiling. She sighed. "You want me to dry my hair first?"

Nick smiled. "Of course. Hurry up."

Nick was dry and waiting on Pryn's bed by the time her hair was dry and brushed. "I told Mom to go ahead and eat and we'd be down whenever," he said.

Pryn nodded. "Thanks." What a stupid thing to say: Thanks. Thanks for making sure my dinner is cold after you rape me, brother!

"No prob. Hey, would you mind putting your hair in a pony?"

"Suuuure?"

Nick shrugged. "I dunno. I just always thought you were cute in a ponytail. It suits the shape of your face. And I want to see your face when I fuck you. Mom's hair gets all in her face while she's whipping her hair around when she fucks. It's kind of sexy, but it's not the way I want you."

Pryn threaded her hair back and forth through a rubber band.

"And a ribbon?" Nick asked.

"It won't stay if you pull my hair."

"So? That's fine. Do you have a ribbon?"

"Sure, my prince. What color?"

"Kentucky Wildcat Blue!"

"I've got plenty of those." Pryn sat on her vanity bench to make a perfect bow on the back of her head. "Okay," Pryn turned. "How's it look?"

Nick grinned and pointed at his hard penis. "Warm me up."

Pryn crawled between her brother's legs and licked his cock from balls to tip. Again and again. She picked up the head in her lips and brought Nick's member perpendicular with only suction before she pushed soft lips over the crown and down to the stab point in the back of her throat. She was farther away from Nick's stomach than she remembered. He was getting bigger.

Pryn moaned and challenged herself to get more of Nick's cock head in her throat. She needed to be ready for Daddy when he came home from assignment. Daddy was right, she didn't have a great suck to offer Daddy. It was time for her to take her sex chores seriously. Pryn moaned and let the taste of her brother's hot cock skin map from her taste buds to her girl brain. She sucked at the tip of the cock head extra hard to draw pre-come. Nick flinched and pushed the back of Pryn's head until his crown was behind her teeth. "Easy."

"Sorry," Pryn mumbled around the hardness in her mouth. "I'm horny."

"Are you?" Nick said. He leaned up and out from under Pryn. He waggled his finger. "Get on the floor. Kneel."

Pryn did.

Nick ripped open a black foil square he picked up off Pryn's desk. "This is a rubber. It's got ridges on it to make my cock feel really good when I fuck. Mom showed me this. See, it says here. 'Ribbed for pleasure.' Mom says it makes fucking sex ten times better. Put it on me."

Pryn reached for the rubber. Nick swatted her hands away. "No. Put it on with your mouth, the way Mom does."

Pryn blinked. "I don't know how to do that."

"It's easy. Here." Nick stuck the bubble in front of Pryn's lips. "Suck and hold it on your lips. Good. Like that. Now lean in and push it down over the top of my dick with your mouth. Like that. No, tighter. Back up. You missed the roll part. No, press your lips down harder. The roll is stuck behind the head of my dick. Yeah. YEAH! You got it! More. Deeper. Deeper."

Nick stepped back. Pryn wanted to scrape the horrible taste of rubber and spermicidal lube off her tongue with a squeegee. "Up on the bed, sis. All fours like I said it would be."

Pryn mounted the bed, draping her feet of the edge like she was taking an inspection.

"Back up," Nick commanded. "Just your knees on the edge of the bed. Good. Here it comes."

The pain wasn't as bad as it was with Troy, but it was nowhere in the same ZIP code as Pleasure. Nick pushed balls-deep and gripped Pryn by the hips. Something about the position was more intrusive than missionary sex had been. Nick's cock felt warmer in her. Nick's cock was smaller than Troy's, but somehow he was pushing into new places deep in Pryn.

"OoOoOoOoOoOhhhhhhhwwaaaahhhh, damn, Nick!"

"Good, huh?"

"Can you slow down a little. It hurts."

"It's supposed to hurt," Nick said. "You're a virgin." As if to illustrate, Nick grabbed onto Pryn's hips and pounded her hard from his standing leverage.

It wasn't a sex moan, but Pryn couldn't stop the impact reaction from yo-yoing past her teeth in a deep siren.

"You sure are a slut," Nick said. "Aren't you? You're really wet."

"Yessss," Pryn hissed through pain-clenched teeth. "I-yuh am-muh sl-yuh-ut, ow-yuh-ow-yuh-ow."

Little Nicolai had a jackhammer fuck. Pryn heard him moan. He hinged up on his toes, up-drilling his cock into the deep crease of Pryn's upturned cervix.

"GAH!" Nick screamed. His strokes slowed. He huffed and puffed before he pulled his sloppy girth from Pryn's sex. "Shit yeah! That was great! You like that, Prinadlez?"

Pryn panted a recovery and nodded.

"Did you come?"

"I think so," Pryn lied.

"I knew it. The Dick-of-Death!"

Nick slapped Pryn on the ass with a playful check of power. "You didn't bleed much. That's cool. I'm going to have Mom gelk me. Take the rest of the night off, but you're sleeping in my bed tonight."

Pryn froze. She remembered Troy. "Hey, I don't feel great. I might throw up. I think I have the beginnings of the flu. I should probably sleep by myself. Maybe downstairs on the couch."

"My bed." Nick rolled his condom off and let it splatter onto Pryn's carpet. "Pick that up."

Every time Pryn tried to quietly roll out of Nick's bed, he rustled awake and re-spooned his flaccid cock into her warm butt cheek.

After the umpteenth replay, Nick became annoyed. "Bitch!" he mumbled. "Go to fucking sleep. I mean it. Stop rolling around!"

Pryn wondered if Troy was awake, looking at his alarm clock and wondering where she was. She wondered if the lava lamp was already warm and making the room a trippy swim of shadows and pastel blotches. She wondered if Troy had showered and changed his sheets since he expected her this time. She imagined that he put on too much cologne, enough to give a girl a contact high if she was under blankets with it. It would be overwhelming but she imagined she would kind of love it anyway.

Pryn had run Internet searches on how to give blowjobs to men with uncircumcised cocks. Her mouth had spent the quiet parts of the evening imagining how it would be to run her tongue in between the hood and the head. Uncircumcised boys were supposed to be more sensitive, so Pryn wondered how that would translate to fewer minutes before Troy spermed her tongue.

Funny that her mother had provided Nick with condoms, but didn't consider that Pryn might need a box of her own until the birth control pills locked in. Surely Troy would have been okay being sucked off. All boys liked being sucked off. It was all eighth grade boys talked about. "Suck it, Dave! Suck my cock, Trina! Lick my sweaty balls, Mike, you fag!"

Pryn tried to think of how she was going to explain her no-show to Troy when she saw him in the hallways tomorrow.

He didn't ride the bus the following morning. Pryn was surprised to see him exiting the stairwell near the biology lab. She took a deep breath. She had rehearsed what she was going to say a thousand times in her head. 'Hey, good lookin'. How about we have that talk today when our lunch periods overlap. We've only got fifteen minutes, but I'm sure I'll be able to squeeze a word in edgewise, Chattyboy! Ha, ha!'

Pryn stopped walking and waited for Troy to see her. His eyes were sleepy. They locked on Pryn. Pryn smiled. Troy approached and Pryn took a deep breath. "Hey, good lookin'! How's about w-- Troy. Troy. Troy!"

Troy walked past and kept walking.

Pryn's crystal heart shattered into dust, and the floppy-haired sledgehammer just kept walkin' toward the Arts hallway like she didn't exist. Someone moaned "Ohhhh no." Pryn realized it had been her. She wished to die right then and there, but it felt as though the wish had already been fulfilled before she made it.

042614: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

A: You're kind of quiet there, Doc.

Q: Sorry. I was just re-reading the latest pages of your journal before you came in. The part about Troy ignoring you after you couldn't escape from your brother's bed.

A: Ah. Yeah. That brought back a lot of pain.

Q: I can tell. You can feel it on the page. You're a decent writer, Polly.

A: Thanks. I internalized a lot of stuff over the years. Soaked in it, y'know? It has been very therapeutic to journal it out.

Q: Part of me thinks this would make a good book.

A: Clean Feet and No Bananas: The Polly Dawson Story.

Q: Right. Hey, can we broach something? Something tricky?

A: Sure.

Q: I've encouraged you to be honest, right? Honest to yourself as you journal.

A: Certainly.

Q: It's just that-- You are really graphic in your descriptions of the incest.

A: Yeah?

Q: Really graphic.

A: Oh. Sorry. Is it wigging you out?

Q: I just want to make sure that the puerile microscope of graphic adjectives and adverbs are for your actualization and not for my benefit.

A: You said "Don't hold back."

Q: I did say that.

A: Should I stop? Censor myself?

Q: Forget I said anything.

A: You be honest with me. How about that?

Q: That's fair. I've spend a lot of time thinking about what I've read and what we've discussed. A lot. It's sticking in my brain when I'm talking to other patients. I'm thinking about it when I'm with my family. I have a six year old girl. When I tuck her into bed at night, I can't imagine that she would ever have to know the pain you've known. But I think about it anyway and it-- It hurts.

A: It's fucked up.

Q: It's messed up.

A: No, say it right. It's fucked up.

Q: It's fucked up.

A: There are times not to equivocate. This. Therapy. I was trying not to equivocate.

Q: Fair enough. So after your brother molested you, I'm assuming it was "Game On" from that point forward.

A: Yeppers. Although, God bless Mom! It took Nick over two weeks to figure out that sex doesn't really feel better with a condom. Dumbass! Ribbed for pleasure! His pleasure? Cheese and crackers, that boy. He didn't stay that stupid, unfortunately. Or fortunately. Who can say? He grew up.

But you are right. Nick fucked me at least five times a week, every week until Daddy came home. At least that often. I sucked him off twice as many times as I fucked him in any given week. But Mom bought me enough time for birth control pills to kick in.

It took a month for Nick to flip me on my back and take me missionary. I could tell he didn't like to look into my eyes when he took me. There was no kissing, of course. No connection. Nothing like what I had with Troy.

Funny. Troy and I were way too young to have sex, but what we had for one night was totally real. Totally. It served to benchmark how "not right" it was to have Nick in me. Like his arms weren't long enough to push his head away from mine, leaning up away from me when I was on my back. He preferred humping me like a dog. He just wanted a wet hole to rub his dick in. No connection. I had the unfortunate opportunity to know "good" just long enough to form a comparison as to how bad being Nick's sexbot really was.

Q: Must have been the worst.

A: Best time of my life.

Q: Sarcasm.

A: No. Seriously. It was the best time of my entire life.

Q: Why is that?

A: I got kicked out of Madam B's Gymnastics Club.

Q: Oh no.

A: Oh yes.

Q: Why are you smiling?

MAY 2003

Madam B was preoccupied. She was giving the prospective tour to somebody's mother, come to inspect Madam B's gym. A late-teen daughter followed behind, swinging on crutches. Her leg was in a thigh cast.

The two adults and the girl in the cast stood at the edge of the mat and watched the club girls go through five-action floor tumbles. Pryn was putting the finishing polish on her double-back into landing. It was almost to the point where she wasn't thinking about the move, she was just doing it. Pryn took her turn at the diagonal run. Pryn stuck the double. Perfect.

"There," thought Pryn. "I can work on lightening my power strides now."

"Excuse me!" the visiting mom raised her hand. Madam B mumbled something. "Pryn!" said the mom. "Can you do that again, please?"

Madam B raised her hand and Madam C blocked Darlene Wiscetti from starting her cross. Pryn looked at Madam B.

Madam B pursed her lips and said, "Pryn again."

Pryn returned to the chalked corner of the mat and set her feet on the lines to run.

"Wait! Pryn!" said the annoying mom. "Can you switch your starting position? Left leg back? And can you stick on the opposite leg when you land? Left foot hard, Right foot soft?"

Pryn wrinkled her brow and looked at Madam B with a "Who the hell does this woman think she is?" expression.

Madam B rolled her eyes and wiggled her fingers to signal "just get on with it."

Madam C leaned in and whispered to Pryn, "Just do what she says, okay?"

Pryn shrugged and changed her stance. It took Pryn a second to load into her head how she was going to stick with her weak leg and pose with her strong leg. "Whatevs," Pryn hissed. She ran and popped her handspring. Somewhere in the twist she under-rotated, but picked up the difference with a torque of her hips. The back pike was the same and then the backhander into a double-back stick happened slower in Pryn's brain than it ever had. Thinking about legging her landing forced the room to tumble around her instead of vice-versa. Her left leg took her weight into the mat, just like it was supposed to. Pryn's right leg went back out of habit and not because of momentum. It was a good tumble, all things considered. Weird how it slowed down in her head, but a good run.

Pryn ran to the back of the queue.

"One more please!" the mom waved her hand. "Pryn, please! Can you do the same tumble with a jetté instead of the pike? Forward roll into a twist to get the same double-back at the end? And more revelé, please? Lighter on the toes?"

Pryn was clearly annoyed at the balls on Madam B's guest, but Pryn queued up in the starting corner again and did what she was asked. Except for getting around the twist to the final backflips, it was an easier sequence anyway.

Pryn stuck her landing and raised her palms.

"That ees 'nough," Madam B flipped Pryn a dismissive hand. "Take five, Pryn."

Pryn walked to the water fountain. Her ears listened for what Madam B was mumbling to the mom.

"I know," Madam B said, her voice dripping with low disdain. "She ees disgusting, no? Like a big block of clay. Makes me want to quit theese job and sell Tooperware."

"You said this was her first year in the sport?" asked the Mom.

"Yes. No athletics in the family, I asked."

The teen girl on crutches chimed in. "If I had two legs, I'd kick her ass."

Pryn froze. Her ears flushed with embarrassment. Why was Madam B dissing her? Her floor run wasn't that bad, was it? Pryn thought she had done okay. And who was this visitor to mock her? What a bunch of crap. The mom could kiss Pryn's ass, and the bitch's bully daughter better think twice before fucking with her.

"I tell her to cut her hair and she does not leesten," continued Madam B. "Her boobs too big. Her butt like two bowling balls in plastic sack, this she cannot help, but she simply does not have body of champion."

"No," said the mom. "She doesn't have the build of any gymnast I've ever seen."

Pryn felt her teeth grinding and walked to warm up on the uneven bars before the class fractured into workshops. Wednesday was Pryn's day to concentrate on the bars.

It seemed that Pryn couldn't do anything right there either. Madam C was on Pryn like white on rice. "Stall! C'mon! What's your hurry? Hold the momentum Pryn! Watch your heels! HEELS, I SAID! Kick it. Level those legs! Your calves are cock-eyed, Pryn, C'mon!"

Pryn was tearing up by the time she dismounted. She turned to see Madam B shaking her head slowly, still standing next to the Mom and daughter.

"Get your head out of your ass, Pryn! What the hell is with you today?" Madam C shouted.

"Sorry," sniffed Pryn.

Pryn had never seen Madam C lose her shit before. "Sorry? Sorry? Don't apologize to me, Pryn Reynolds. Just do the damn work!" Madam Clarice leaned her nose inches from Pryn and screamed, "Do it!"

Pryn swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Madam." Her arms had not recovered from the first run at the bars but Madam C threw the spring board back down with a thump and pointed at it. "Again! Focus!"

Pryn nodded and reminded herself to keep breathing through her humiliation. She sprung the board and gripped back into a starting overspread of the low bar. Her concentration formed into something tangible. Madam Clarice was screaming at her again, but Pryn chose to concentrate on her own precision. She felt good radius on her high bar spins. Then she was airborne, working her tuck hard. Twisting from her middle and not her hips. Keeping her neck back and her chin up. The mat smacked the bottom of both feet at the same time and Pryn didn't bobble. She pushed to her pose and ran to the back of the line behind Dawn LePonte.

A hand came down on Pryn's shoulder. Pryn turned to see Madam B. "My office, pleeze."

Pryn melted into a puddle of failure. She could not stop the tears.

Sitting in Madam B's office, Madam B offered Pryn a tissue and cleared her throat.

"We geeve everybody chance here," Madam B said. "But for first time in long time, I am not sure what to do with Pryn Reey-nolds."

"I can try harder," Pryn said. "Please. Pleeeeese, Madam."

Madam B shook her head slowly. "I am wasting your time. Wasting parents money. I cannot do for you what is best. I am sorry."

Pryn's throat hitched. "Please, Madam. Please don't cut me!"

Madam B raised her hand and waved out the office window toward Madam C.

Pryn clasped her hands together. "I'm begging you, I love it here."

Madam B nodded. "I know, and theese is why it hurts me more than it hurts you to have to do thees."

The door of the office opened and the mother and daughter eased in. Madam B pointed at the mom. "You do not know who this ees, Prinadlez?"

Pryn mopped her eyes with the tissue. "No."

The mom offered her hand. "My name is Lisa Wells. I'm the assistant to new coach at UK, Mo Mohammad. This is Lyric Obermann." The woman thumbed at the girl on crutches. "She'll be a junior at UK next year and she's already been designated as Captain of the GymKats."

"Hey Pryn," the girl nodded.

Lisa Wells continued. "We've got kind of a farm team for local girls whom we think would represent Louisville well. It's not officially a feeder system for UK GymKats, because that would be illegal. But it's a great gym. if you are interested in working hard, we'd love to have you come practice with us.

Pryn shook her head no. "I don't want to leave Madam B's."

Everyone laughed but Pryn.

"Prinadlez," said Madam B, "I cannot offer you what they are offering you. I have never seen gir-rul so fearless of pain and so brave and so good of taking instruction. I have broken you all I can break you. You go with Meese Wells and she will make you more miserable and yell at you more and push you ten times harder. It will be horrible. And somehow, you will love it even more than here."

Pryn blinked. It was too much to take in. Vertigo seeped into her ears. This was an opportunity? Really? "How much?" Pryn mumbled.

Lisa Wells smiled. "One hundred and twenty thousand dollars."

Pryn's head spun a little faster. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, my family doesn't have that kind of money."

Everybody else laughed again. "No goofball," Lyric Obermann said. "That's the dollar value of a full ride scholarship to UK. That's what's at the end of four years with the LadyKat Juniors."

"Hey," Lisa Wells raised her hand abruptly. "That's entirely up to her. She may not want to go to U of K. She's welcome to go to any school who may also offer her a scholarship. To your question, Pryn, the LadyKat Juniors are funded through the University. No cost to you. None. Yes, as Lyric said, all the girls who have ever completed high school competing for the LadyKat Juniors have been offered a full ride to U of K. But NCAA regulations prevent us from making offers or promises to high schoolers. I can't promise you that you would be offered a full scholarship. I can tell you that statistically, one hundred percent of our high school seniors have been offered a full ride."

"I'm in middle school." Pryn's mouth was dry and her tongue went thick. She was too warm, suddenly. Her stomach flipped.

Madam B pointed at her calendar. "Mid-dul school for eleven days. Theen you are high schooler."

Madam B's desk slid against the wall without anyone touching it. The wall stepped sideways to avoid collision. "College?" Pryn moaned. "Scholarship." The entire room tilted and Pryn lurched sideways in her chair. The floor in Madam B's office was made of squares of flecked linoleum, and that same plane of muted industrial colors and floor wax reached up and punched Pryn in the face. Hard.

"Ah crap. She split her lip pretty good. Dave, open the gauze." Madam Clarice's voice was the first one that cut through the blackness.

Bright light formed a bright line and peeled back into a vista of Madam B's ceiling tiles. Faces poked over the edges.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty." Madam C smiled at Pryn. She was holding something under Pryn's nose that smelled like a dead skunk soaked in sulfur. Pryn flinched away from the horrible stench.

Mr. Schuester cracked the chemical core of a cold pack and muscled the blue bag. "She's okay," he said. The cut doesn't look deep.

"Yeah," said Madam C. "We're not going to need stitches."

"Well," said a voice. Pryn could hear Lisa Wells but she could not see her. "That was a first."

Everybody laughed again.

Pryn finally felt her face and it hurt like a sonofabitch. She could feel the warm blood leaking out of her nose.

"You were really busting on me today," Pryn mumbled to Madam C.

"Sorry. That was my doing." Lisa Wells took a step and Pryn could see her. "I asked Clarice to rattle your cage. Get up in your grill and try to shake you into making mistakes. I just wanted to see what you were made of. What? What did you say?"

"I said I'm made of clean feet and no bananas." Pryn mumbled.

Adults exchanged looks that were half amused and half concerned.

"I hope you'll think about our offer," said Lisa Wells. "Can you let me know by the end of July?"

"Oh shit, what am I going to do?" Pryn asked her mirror. "As sure as I ask Nick, he'll shoot this down. He doesn't understand what a big deal this is."

"No shit," said fat-lipped mirror Pryn. "He'll fuck it up, sure as shootin'. That boy could fuck up a ball bearing with a rubber mallet."

"I can't blow this," said real world Pryn. "Chance of a lifetime. I've got to think it through. Surely there is a way to thread this needle and make it college without becoming Dad's baby factory."

"Ask Mom," said fat-lipped mirror Pryn. "She'll know what to do."

"No," said real-world Pryn. "She's as likely to take Nick's side as mine."

Fat-lipped mirror Pryn shrugged. "Okay. But yaknow, the thing I don't understand is why you have to say anything at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Fat-lipped mirror Pryn looked at real world Pryn with a patronizing eyebrow. "What do they think now? That you are going to gymnastics classes four days a week. Right?"

"Yeah."

"And if you sign on with the Junior Kats, what is that? It's gymnastics class, right?"

"Yeaaaah."

"How many days a week?"

"Four."

Fat-lipped mirror Pryn cocked her eyebrow again. "Sooo? What's the difference?"

"All the difference in the world."

"No. What is the difference to Nick? What's the difference to Daddy? What's the difference to Mom?"

Real world Pryn chewed on this. "Nothing, really. I guess. It cost less money."

"Like Daddy will be nagging you to find out when he gets to write another check?"

"Good point. Uhm... I can't take the shuttle from school. I'll have to get a ride."

"That's why they invented car pools. The high school is closer to the University than the middle school is to Madam B's."

"True. I think I'm seeing what you are saying. Just keep my mouth shut."

"No, I didn't say that," said fat-lipped mirror Pryn. "Make up something about how Madam B is sending half her girls to a new gym location. A franchise. Who needs to know that it's a different club? When was the last time anybody came and watched you practice?"

"Never."

"How many times did Mom or Nick come to one of your competitions?"

"Never."

"You didn't even show them your blue ribbons."

"I know."

"You hid those trophies in the trash can."

"I know, don't start."

"Those were sweet trophies, too."

"SHUT UP!" Real world Pryn said. "I know. Shut up. It killed me to throw those away."

"It was a good move. If Nick had seen those--" fat-lipped mirror Pryn started.

"-- he'd have been a jealous little monster," finished real world Pryn. "I know."

"We can do this," said fat-lipped mirror Pryn. "We can make this work. As long as Nick is getting his balls sucked dry, he doesn't even know you're alive the rest of the day."

Real-world Pryn nodded. "Yeah. But the 'rest of the day' is getting shorter and shorter. He wants it all the time."

"Prynter!" Nick pushed Pryn's door open. "Holy shit, what happened to you?"

"I missed a catch on the bars. Split my lip."

"Who punched you in the eyes?"

"I smashed my nose when I fell. It gave me black eyes."

"Guhg," Nick cringed. "That's nasty. Does it hurt? Your mouth?"

Pryn nodded. "Yeah. It's raw right now."

"I wanted a blowjob," Nick said. "Does it hurt too much to give me a blowjob?"

"It hurts a lot," Pryn said.

Nick thought about it. "Mmmm. Okay. I don't want to see that gore moving up and down on my cock anyway. Strip and get ass-up on the bed. I'll take my pleasure from my puss."

"Yes, my prince." Pryn pulled off her shirt, reached behind to unhook her bra, and slipped her skirt. "Socks on or off?"

"On. You know that's how I like it."

"Yes, my prince. Just checking. You want me to put my hair in a pony, too?"

"Not today. Get the fuck up on the bed. I don't have all day." Nick tugged at his belt and his pants dropped. He stepped close and smacked Pryn's upturned ass with his cock to make it harder, trading strokes off each cheek. Pryn wiggled and said ouch, but it didn't really hurt at all.

"Beg for it," Nick said.

"Mmmm, my prince, my Nicolai," Pryn cooed, "please take what is yours and put this bitch in her place."

"That's more like it," Nick smiled. His cock head stabbed into Pryn's warm weakness and she yipped at the swiftness and the depth. The boy was hanging more inches every month, it seemed.

"Fuck me, my prince," Pryn begged. "Please fuck me. So good, yes. Show me who's boss. Show me. Put me in my place. Sperm your pussy, my prince."

"You're a firecracker this afternoon," Nick grunted. "You want it?"

"Oh yes."

"You want a proper fucking, slut?" Nick went to town. His balls hammered Pryn's clit as they swung forward.

"Oh please, my prince."

"Make a nice tight piece of ass for your man, bitch."

Nick's slapjack balls stopped slapping. Pryn knew that meant he was wrenching to an orgasm. "Yes, My Prince! I'll make a nice hot pussy for you. Please, don't stop fucking me. You're making me all slutty and hungry for my prince's come."

"You want me to-uh-argt-uhnnnnnn." Nick slapped Pryn on the ass with his palm. "You got me. You got me," he panted. He stepped back and pulled out. "Clean me up."

Pryn turned on one knee to face her brother. She sucked Nick's cockhead free of sperm, making sure to suck extra hard to prevent more spills from working against her. Then she nuzzled her sore nose into the junction of cock to Nick's balls and lapped the sticky drips and pussy juice. She worked the melange of her brother's come and her own sex with the flat of her tongue. She cleaned under the head with a pointed pink tip.

"That's good," Nick said, inspecting his slacked shaft. "Looks good. Now do the thing."

"I can't do it right away. It takes a minute," Pryn explained.

"You don't have a minute. Do it."

Pryn sighed and pushed her cupped hand between her thighs. She flexed her inner muscles and pushed. She worked the muscles from her stomach to her ass and pushed again. Nick's hot, thin sperm slithered out of her and puddled in the upturned palm she used to catch the bubbly spatters. Nick's new thing was something he saw in Cream Pie Cum Sluts #14. Nick had been forcing Pryn into come-play ever since he started downloading his collections of MILF videos. MILFs were big into come-play. Before Pryn had mastered holding pools of come on her tongue and spitting it out and swallowing it back, Nick had moved on to something even more hardcore with Cream Pie Cum Sluts. He made Pryn watch it with him to show her what he expected.

Pryn pushed out another blurp of come wash, rippling vaginal muscles with everything she had. She held up her cupped hand to show Nick. He nodded. Pryn tilted the cupped hand onto her tongue, lifted her chin, and rolled the edges of her licker to prevent come from spilling over the tip. She looked up at Nick. Nick smiled and shuddered at the same time.

"Ghuguhahahag! That is so gross!" he said, laughing and cringing at the same time. "Hold it. Hold it. Hold it."

Pryn tried to remember the subtleties of what she had seen the women do in the video. That's what Nick really wanted. The ethereal things, like smiles and coos and eyelash batting. Pryn made her eyes big and pleading.

"You want it?" Nick asked.

"Mmmmm," Pryn moaned. She tried to make her eyes slutty.

"Okay swallow. Stick out your tongue. Wow! That is so gross, Pryn."

"I like your come," Pryn smiled as she smacked her bruised lips. "It's the best."

"It better be the only," Nick shook his finger at her face before he picked up his clothes and left.

Six minutes later Pryn had gargled mouthwash, dressed, and was revising the bibliography of her research paper on the Boxer Rebellion.

Pryn allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. She could handle anything Nick dished out. The only hurdle left in front of her was Daddy. In three months, Daddy was going to be back from Brazil and things were probably going to change. Nick thought he was a cocksman. But Daddy truly had the Dick-of-Death. Pryn tried to imagine getting as much of that monster in her mouth as her mother. Or taking a doggy pounding from that much man meat. She didn't know how her tiny mom withstood Chapman's aggressive fucking.

Pryn knew only that she was about to find out.

AUGUST 2003

Pryn was unsure of how much Daddy Dance was supposed to be directed to Chapman Reynolds and how much was supposed to spill over to Nicolai in the chair next to him.

Something out-of-the-ordinary had happened to Chapman when he was in Brazil. Pryn's eavesdropping failed to get the specifics and Oks didn't want to talk about it. Daddy's eyes were always distant. He was less gruff, but just as moody. He switched his primary drink to a cocktail called Death in the Gulf Stream. Pryn struggled to make it exactly the way Daddy wanted it, but Chapman was remarkably patient with her failures. At least he seemed remarkably patient given that he was Prinadlezhavshiy Reynolds' demanding Daddy.

"I think I need a different Holland Gin," Daddy had said. "Until then, just a drop of Triple Sec to take the daggers out of this low-rent jet fuel."

Chapman sipped his cocktail slower than usual while Pryn kicked and spun her way through an insanely sexy routine she timed out to Avril Lavine's Complicated. She incorporated sweep kicks and big reverse music box toe-pirouettes she learned as part of floor gymnastics. Pryn had never worn fishnets before, but they paired well with the high-V string bottom and half shirt she bought for the tease. Mom always dressed in classic pinup boudoir peignoirs, so Pryn tried to counter-program with a more modern sex apparel she saw the women wear in rap videos or Nick's pornos.

Daddy didn't seem to mind. He didn't smile a lot. Chapman wasn't exactly a toothy dude in the best of times, but he smiled even less since returning from Brazil. His temples had picked up a touch of gray while he was gone.

Pryn had acquired more boob and more butt. Pryn felt the power behind their heft as Daddy's eyes glazed over on the slow reveal of Pryn pulling her half shirt up slowly, slowly, sloooowly until one nipple lost grip on the fabric. Then the other. Full, pink tits bounced down, one-two. All the time Pryn had spent under the suction sting of cuppings (not to mention the hours spent turned sideways in the bathroom mirror, measuring her chesty progress) were affirmed by Daddy's mesmerized eyes. Nick's chin bobbed involuntarily to the beat of the song. Nick had seen her naked when he fucked her mid-morning. The last time Daddy had seen Pryn's altogether (in person, not on camera), there was much less of it. Less tit. Less booty. Less definition in Pryn's legs and her stomach. Chapman Reynolds drank in his daughter's evolved shape as he sipped his cocktail. Pryn could see his pupils dilate as she moved in to finish the last minute of the song kneeling on the top of Chapman's thighs, swaying her new tits back and forth across each stubbled cheek of her father's anvil chin.

Pryn V-piked her legs and held a tight, toe-pointed pose while she started her panties on the journey up to her knees and beyond. One heel dropped to stretch the panties into a rubber band and the alternate toes nabbed the panties before they shot to the ceiling. Pryn lowered her bare front onto the top of Daddy's thighs and back-bent her legs until they came over the top of her head. She grabbed the panties dangling off her toes with her mouth and sprang back up on Daddy's legs. Pryn kissed her father with a mouth full of silk panty triangle. She pushed the thin fabric back behind his teeth with her tongue. She dropped through Chapman's legs in a back flip press off his knees and landed in the splits on the last note.

Chapman Reynolds nodded, impressed. "Is that what my three hundred and forty dollars bought me?"

Pryn smiled and nodded.

"Well then it was money well-spent. That was nice, Darlin'. Cue your mother's music up and come sit on Nicky's lap while we see what Ox has put together for us."

Pryn wasn't sure she had heard her father correctly. "Darlin'?" Did he say "Darlin'?" He never terms of endearment for her. Hardly ever for Oks.

Pryn fired up an obscure Adrian Belew tune on an iPod mini cabled to her boombox input: Oh Daddy. Oksana shimmied into the living room lights in a Catholic school girl outfit, her hair in pigtails, and swinging a swirled lollipop. Her shoes were heels trimmed in the two-tone style of spectators. She wore black knee socks with tiny pink rose ribbons sewn to the the top hem.

Oksana crossed the distance under the rockabilly bounce of the piano intro, crossing each knee in front of the other like a shy coquette quick-stepping toward the girls' room. Lyrics started and Oks spun to a toes-out leg splay and rolled her ample bottom in a grinding circle at the family. She rolled her ass with such precision that the pleats of the schoolgirl skirt took on a counter-pinwheel that revealed her polka-dotted panties in concentric flashes.

Pryn heard the air escape out of Nick's mouth in a whoosh. He absently squeezed Pryn's tit while he stared at his mother's lecherous moves. Pryn realized Nick was ghost-groping his mother. He squirmed in his chair, his erection looking for friction from Pryn's bare butt on top of his lap.

Daddy cocked an eyebrow above an uncertain smirk. Pryn could tell Chapman had been caught off-guard by Oks' costume turn and he wasn't entirely buying it.

It was a short song, but Oksana poured 200 watts of smile and sass into every hip bump and every turn. She was braless under the discarded shirt and licked the lollipop before rubbing each of her puffy pink nipples on the candy and licking it again while she winked at Daddy with one eye, then Nick with the other. She lowered the panties in a knees-in/knees-out X-and-O move. She ended the crescendo of the song on all fours, facing away from Daddy, still wearing the pleated skirt flipped to her back.

Chapman nodded, still half bemused and half shocked by what he just witnessed. "What do you think, Son?"

"Pretty hot, Dad."

"I dunno. I think Pryn may have finally out-danced your mother this time."

"They were both pretty good." Nick said.

Daddy shrugged and stood. He shot Nick a glance and pulled his belt open and his zipper down. "Ox," Chapman said. He said no more. Oksana spun backwards to finish pantsing Chapman and inhaling his cock as soon as his boxer elastic dropped low enough.

Nick also stood, sliding Pryn into the floor. Nick nodded at Pryn. Pryn looked at her father to make sure it was okay for her to do what Nick was motioning for her to do. Daddy's attention was locked on Oksana, slurping away and working his telephone pole deeper and deeper with every wet bounce of her lips.

Pryn relented and pulled Nick's belt one way and then the other. She split his zipper. Nick got impatient and pushed his own jeans down over his hips. He was commando and his pecker popped up and caught Pryn under the tip of her nose. Pryn's lips parted and she leaned up on her knees to take Nick's member. The salty head rippled past her teeth, riding wet crest of the front of her tongue before offering rough greeting to the bumpy buds at the back. The taste of Nick's warm cock skin was so familiar, there was comfort in the way it connected with Pryn's mouth. Nick's groin smelled differently when he was horny and when he was spent. Pryn surprised herself to find she preferred the scent of Nick's nether regions when he was under the spell of hormones. The waft of horny boy glands was as comforting to her as the smell of a pie cooling on the window sill.

Oksana was moaning so loudly and garking at the impact of Chapman's cock in-and-out of her throat, Pryn could not even hear her own glistening smacks and slurps around Nick's shaft. Pryn moaned louder and rocked her head from side to side to get good internal licks on the outside of Nick's throbbing dick.

"I'm calling privilege on you, Prince." Pryn heard Daddy talking low and sultry. "Switch girls with me."

"Sure!" Nick was nothing if not enthusiastic. He pushed Pryn off his cock with a palm to her forehead. Pryn shuffled back on her knees and Oks was already crowding into the spot where Pryn had been.

"Oh, I've waited for this for such a long time!" Oks said to Nick as she grabbed his cock at the junction of his balls and hinged it down where she could tip her tongue out and tease the dripping come hole. "So long, My Prince."

Pryn knew Oks was lying for her husband's benefit. Nick -- after a beat -- remembered that his father was not supposed to know Oks had already sucked and fucked him two dozen times. "Yeah, me too."

"Oh, save me your slutty bullshit, whore," Chapman said, shaking his head. "I know you've already had his cock in your mouth at least once. At least. I've got the video to prove it."

"Oh, just one short time, sir." Oksana batted her eyelashes at Chapman while the front of her tongue lolled the underside of Nick's pecker head. "One precious second. His cock was so burned, it needed a mother's healing kiss."

"Yeah," drolled Chapman. "And all those times you two walked back from the car with no groceries or bags in your hands, all coated in sweaty sheens and mussed up hair?"

Oksana smiled a wicked smile. Pryn was shocked by the blatant wink she sent flying at her husband. "You were gone so long. And Prinadlez was working so hard to keep up with Prince Nicolai's fertile, growing cock, my luv. What can I say? Maybe this is the first time I have tasted a prince's hot meat, and maybe not?"

"Hmmm." Chapman shook his head. Pryn waited for her Daddy to kill Oksana and Nick. Instead he focused on Pryn. "Alright, girly. Let's see what you've learned. Quit hiding behind your mother unless you're going to fuck her. Get over here."

Pryn shuffled between her father's feet and looked at the log exploding upward from his balls, not shaven but trimmed to stubble. Daddy was an imposing man, but the perspective looking up from the floor was nothing short of intimidating. Daddy was still wearing an Oxford with pale blue pinstripes in it, the collar opened two buttons into a deep V that picked up the top of his chest hair. The front flaps making perfect semicircles on top of Chapman's quads. Daddy was slacked back in the chair, but his shoulders were still ridiculously wide. Pryn looked up at a mountain of a man holding forth. The thighs on each side of her head were powerful Michelangelo sculpture studies.

Pryn tried to wash up a mouthful of saliva in preparation for what Daddy expected, but fear dried out her maw as fast as she could juice her spit glands. Daddy's eyes locked on Pryn's and his soulful coffee irises vacuumed her attention like a tractor beam. Daddy's expression was mostly blank, but there was something determined in the creased corners of his mouth.

Pryn could hear Nick start to curse in the throes of his man lust. "Aw shit. Aw fuck that's good. Aw yeah. Yeah. Suck it, Mom. Suck that cock, bitch. Suck goddammit!"

Daddy kept staring at Pryn. Her trembling hand reached up and her fingers closed around the middle of Daddy's warm thickness. Her fingertips barely touched her thumb. When Nick was little, he favored a chain burger restaurant that had a midway of odd electronic carnival games along the back wall. Test Your Strength: two D-shaped steel hand grips attached to short ropes going into the game cabinet you were supposed to pull out and apart while colored light bulbs marked your progress across the top if the garish cabinet. Are You a Ninja? with painted popup rubber stoppers appearing randomly from holes in a big board. Nick like that one the best. He slapped a drum solo on the board, trying to to keep up with the little rubber heads pistoning up and down. Pryn gravitated toward the cabinet with the floral pink hearts painted on the backlit plexiglas: Know Your Love Quotient! The object was to pull down a lever with a resistance grip that looked like garlic press. You were supposed to squeeze the grip closed while pulling against the stubborn lever. Pryn could never get the "Hot-o-meter" display past the graphic for "Just so-so."

For so many reasons, that's where Pryn's mind went while she squeezed the middle of Daddy's giant cock and pulled it down level with her mouth. Daddy had that much resistance in the erection spring of his tool that Pryn felt it in her biceps. And Pryn suspected that the end result of what she was about to do for Daddy would be the same as Know Your Love Quotient! The expression on Daddy's face would tell her that her sex suck was "Just so-so."

Daddy must have seen the hesitation on Pryn's face. The concern. He took a deep breath and leaned down nose-to-nose with his daughter. Chapman pinched Pryn's chin, firmly but gently. He leaned in and kissed Pryn's lips with a supple softness that formed a glue between father and daughter. Daddy peeled off the first kiss and came back for a second, even softer kiss that Pryn felt in the bottoms of her feet. Daddy nuzzled his rough jaw against Pryn's right cheek and whispered in her ear. "Just do the best you can. You said you wanted to be mine, right?"

Pryn's insides turned to soft wax. Every deeply resonant word pushed from Daddy's mouth into her close ear warmed her chest a few degrees more. "Yes," she whispered.

"Did you mean it?" Daddy rumbled.

Pryn knew she had not meant it. But now... Now she kind of did. "Yes sir. I want to serve you. I want to be owned by you."

Daddy's tongue licked the antitragus ridge of Pryn's ear; just warm enough and not too wet. Pryn felt Daddy's soft power make itself manifest in the needy ring of his pussy canal. "Show me that you know what it is to be owned by a man, Prinadlez."

Daddy hinged back upright in his chair. Pryn didn't wait for him. Something inside her could not wait. Her mouth was a magnet to her Daddy's hard, sticky sex. She latched a suck on Daddy's cockhead. Her jaw hinged open as far as it could go. It was just wide enough to sneak her lips over the crown. Pryn looked up, following the long cock shaft to Daddy's shirt, and then up to his eyes. Daddy inhaled through his nose and his neck slacked.

Something awoke in Pryn's animal brain. She sucked Daddy's cock with a fervor. Her moans followed the stabbing collision of cushioned cock head against the back of her throat, her girl-grunts now completely involuntary. Her burning jaw muscles made peace with the mission-at-hand and Pryn came up on her knees slightly to test the back of her throat against the tasty skin of Daddy's downturned cock knob.

Pryn's fingers insisted on knowing the weight of Daddy's hanging balls. One hand lifted them gently and tested them. Her fingertips flexed in and Pryn wished she still had her long fingernails to please Daddy like she used to stimulate Nick. Daddy's hand extended and the back of his long fingers swept over Pryn's forehead, even though there was no hair to push away. It was pure connection.

Pryn's taste buds ached for the weight and the sting of Daddy's come to bounce off her tonsils and load her tongue. She hissed through her nose as she frantically corkscrewed her suck in one direction while she cranked Daddy's mid-shaft in the opposite direction with her stroke hand. Her ball-tickling hand was everywhere it could go on Daddy's stubbly sack.

"There you go," Daddy whispered. The resonance of Daddy's soft voice was so low that it easily found Pryn's eardrums past all the slurping and cursing going on two feet to her left.

Nick grunted and began thrashing in his chair. Mom had to be swallowing his load. Pryn knew Nick's body language when he came hard, even by ear. She was too focused on Daddy to be distracted.

Pryn craved the knowing -- the taste of her father -- with some part of her soul that had been starving for years and was just now sensing the impending satisfaction of something intense and wonderful. She had been so lonely, empty, and longing for more of what she'd had known in her precious hours with Troy Walker. It seemed as though the righteous sate to her need was plugged into her mouth and pulsing. Pryn saw Daddy wiggle his hips a tiny bit, sliding his hard ass against the leather of the chair. She was doing something right. She sucked with a frenzy.

"Slow down!" It was Oksana, talking at Pryn from some other planet. "You are oversucking."

Pryn could not care less what her mother said. She was exactly where she wanted to be. For once, everything was right in the world.

Pryn felt her mother's hand pushing against Pryn's chest. Then harder. Then Oks' other hand went to Pryn's shoulder and pushed hard.

Pryn had to pop off her father's cock for the pushing. "Leave me alone!" Pryn snapped, swatting Oksana's hands away. Her mouth slathered full with the massive warmness of her father's sex club once more.

"Prinadlez, listen." Again, Oksana pushed Pryn's shoulder -- hard -- until Pryn had to pop away from her sucking. "You are too much. I know what he likes. Let me show you."

Oks reached for Chapman's shaft and walked forward on her knees. Something in Pryn snapped. "MINE!" Pryn pushed her mother; one hand to Oksana's face and the other to Oksana's chest. Pryn's mother tumbled backwards. Pryn immediately rejoined her furious sucking atop her father's twitching pole.

"Oh you fucking little cat!" When Oksana came back at Pryn, there was nothing pushy about it. Oksana yanked Pryn's hair backwards with one hand until her lips parted Chapman's cock. The other hand was a fist by the time it connected with Pryn's temple. "I will show you who that cock belongs to, you disrespectful cunt!"

Pryn recovered from the blindside punch just long enough to get matching set of knuckles into her mother's nose. It was a good punch. Before gymnastics the blow would not have been impressive, but now... Pryn felt the impact in her own elbow. Oksana's head rocked back on her neck. Pryn thought her punch ended the melee. She was wrong. Arms tangled in both directions, determined swings intercepted by oncoming aggression. Oksana's hands were claws. Pryn's were cudgels. Chapman swept Pryn off the ground by her waist and Nick was strong enough to lift Oksana's feet off the floor while she tried to kick-swim through the air to get at Pryn.

"BITCHES STOOOP!" screamed Daddy. "Now! The next bitch to even flinch is getting caned until sunrise! Do you understand me? Good!"

Pryn realized she was panting in exertion. Oksana was also heaving from her chest, her jaw still out and her bottom teeth showing.

"Goddammit, Pryn!" shouted Chapman. "She was just trying to show you what I like! Why the fuck did you have to push her? What is wrong with you, girl?"

Pryn stunned into silence. Why was Daddy yelling at her?

"I asked you a question. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, sir," Pryn muttered. "I was trying hard to rock your world. I didn't want Mom horning in and taking my suck. I wanted to make you come. I didn't want her to slide in at the last minute and put you over."

Chapman gritted his teeth and tried to project calm. "I get that. Okay? I get that. But you don't hit your mother. Not over cock. If there is discipline to be doled out in this house it will originate from Nicolai or myself. Don't cry. I mean it. Do. Not. Cry. Prrrrryyyyn!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Pryn heaved. Her eyes betrayed her and began to gush.

"Oh Christ in a picnic basket," Chapman Reynolds slapped his forehead and set Pryn on the ground. "Nick, take your sister upstairs, collar her, and lock her to bed frame. Make sure she stays put for the night, or I'll hold you responsible. Got it? Then bring the first aid kit back down here. I think Pryn broke your mother's nose."

Nick threw Pryn over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Pryn wailed like a tornado siren.

Nick left the light in Pryn's room on after he tethered her to the bed frame with her locked collar and clasped the other end of a coated aluminum cable to an eyebolt in the headboard with a Master lock.

Pryn cried until she ran out of tears. There were a lot of angry shouts coming from downstairs for a while. Things settled down. Pryn decided to surrender to sleep and face the day tomorrow. First she tried to stretch a toe to the wall switch to kill the light. Failing that, she tried to move the bed closer to the switch, but she didn't have enough leash go get completely off the bed so she could move it. She resorted to a pillow over her face.

At some point she awakened to the sound of her mother's sex meows coming through the vent. "She can't be too broken to fuck," Pryn muttered. "Whore."

Nick pulled the pillow off Pryn's face and she woke once more to the overbright room. "Hey sis!" He said. "Hang on. It's too bright in here." Nick turned on Pryn's desk lamp and cooled the ceiling fixture. Nick flopped on the bed next to Pryn. He was naked and smelled like B.O. "You will not believe what just happened," Nick sang. "Dad and I doubled Mom. Seriously. Just like in porn. One of us fucked her doggy while she sucked the other. I came three times. Three times, Pryn! My balls are hurtin' fer certain. Gah. I'm drained. Dad spermed Mom twice. And chick, I can't even begin to tell you how many times Mom creamed. Like fifty. She was going off like a roman candle every couple minutes."

"She was faking," Pryn muttered.

"I don't think so," Nick yawned. "She washed our balls in pussy juice every time and her thighs were quivering. I almost creamed Mom's mouth but Dad wanted it all in her pussy. It was pretty hard not to unload on Mom's suck. She was goin' at my cock like a crazy woman while Dad rocked her ass. But Dad's rules, yaknow. All I had to do was signal Dad and he slapped her ass and made her spin like a top. Couple more pumps and I creamed her good. It got pretty gross there toward the end, both of us sperming our puss and Dad stretching her out. Come was pouring out of her faster than I could stroke it back in."

"So she's okay? Her nose?"

"What? Oh yeah. She's fine. It wasn't that bad. Dad cleaned her up and she was ready to roll."

"Where is she now?"

"Dad's got her legs tied to the bedposts in their room. He said he's keeping her inverted until the sperm gets to her eggs and knocks her up. Dad said that if she doesn't get pregnant this time with all that cum we poured into her, he's going to get a new wife who can have babies."

Pryn was suddenly awake. "How does that make you feel?" Pryn whispered.

"Oh Dad's just blowin' smoke. He's not divorcing Mom."

"No," Pryn said. "The part about making a baby inside Mom. How does it make you feel when you think about being a dad yourself with a little baby."

Nick blinked. "I dunno. It's not like it would be my baby. It would be Dad and Mom's baby."

"How would you know? What if it's yours? What if the baby is blond and has your nose?"

"Why are you asking retarded questions?" Nick asked, annoyed.

Pryn quieted. Nick's breathing went deep as he relaxed. He absently pulled the comforter over his legs and Pryn realized he meant to fall asleep in her bed. "You want a blowjob?" Pryn mumbled.

"What?" Nick startled awake.

"You want me to suck your dick?"

"No."

"You wanna fuck me? I'll talk the way you like."

"Are you kidding. I couldn't get it up with a set of jumper cables. I'm toast. I don't have a sperm left."

"Maybe you could play with me a little? Down there? You haven't touched your pussy in months."

"Tomorrow," Nick mumbled. "I'm beat."

Pryn sighed. Somehow an uneasy sleep took her for a while.

Both teens leaned up at the soft knocking on Pryn's door. Oks was still bare. Pryn's vision zoomed to her mother's expression. Oks was calm but serious.

"Nicolai, My Prince," Oks said softly, "may I be so imposing as to beg of you a few minutes alone with Prinadlez?"

"Crimeny," Nick grumbled. "I'm going to my own bed. I can't get any sleep in here."

"My apologies for disturbing your sleep, My Prince."

"Whatevs."

"What are you doing?" Pryn asked.

Nick opened Pryn's secret drawer. "I'm tying your hands to the headboard so you can't take a swing at Mom."

"This is not necessary," Oks said. "There will be no more conflict."

"Says you," Nick grumbled. "She's my property and my ass is on the line if she wigs out again."

"Really, Nicolai," Oksana said.

"Shut it, ma," Nick said curtly.

Oks' mouth opened and closed. She nodded. "Of course, My Prince."

Nick had Pryn's hands immobilized in seconds. "Night, ladies." Nick kissed Pryn on her forehead, Oksana on the mouth, and walked out. Pryn noted how developed Nick's butt was becoming.

Oksana waited until Nick was in his room and sat on the edge of Pryn's bed. Her lips were thin and her expression grim. She took a deep breath.

"I have already one woman to fight for your father's attentions," Oksana said. "I do not need my greatest ally becoming another enemy."

Pryn felt helpless. Her mother's expression was getting angrier and if Oks hit her, she wouldn't be able to defend herself.

"But if I have to fight my daughter for my man, I will fight. I will fight every day and every night. I will fight until hell freezes over and then I will fight on the ice, Prinadlez. I am collared. I wear your father's collar. This means more than you can understand."

"Ahem," Pryn said. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm wearing his collar too."

Oksana laughed. "Prinadlez, you are wearing a collar. You are not wearing your father's collar. You are wearing a training collar, as much for Nick's training as yours. To wear the collar of your father is an honor you do not fully understand. The happiest moment of my life was giving my being and my soul to Chapman Allen Reynolds. The second happiest moment will be when you kneel before your father in the Ceremony of Ownership."

"There's a ceremony?"

Oksana nodded. "Yes. I was there when two of your step-sisters took their collars. There's nothing I want more than to look into the eyes of Daddy's other woman as my most beautiful Prinadlez makes her pledge and is bound to the family."

"Two? I thought you said the other women had three daughters."

"The middle one is not collared. She is headstrong pill like you. Almost your age."

"Wait, there's a girl younger than me who is collared to Daddy?"

Oksana nodded. "Belle was the first. Eight years old and so devoted that Daddy surprised us all."

"How old is she now? Belle?"

Oksana did the math in her head. "Ten? No eleven now. Born ten months after Nicolai. Belle is Eleven. Eula is thirteen. Ressa is almost fifteen. Next month she will be fifteen."

"Wow!" Pryn said. "She was sucking Daddy at eight? That's really messed up, Mom. That's gross. I can't believe Daddy allowed that."

"None of us were particularly thrilled, I assure you. But Belle did the work. She earned it. It's hard to explain if you've never seen her. She lives and dies for the favor of your father. There was not as much... interaction between Belle and Chappy years ago. Mostly it was symbolic. But now she is a proper daughter."

"Wow."

Oksana rubbed Pryn's tied arm. "What happened tonight, I am partly responsible. I know how carried away I get sometimes when I am in service to Daddy. I should have been more diplomatic in my approach. But trust me, Prinadlez, I know what your father wants better than he knows himself. And I want you to succeed in the best pleasure of your father. I want you to be the best most proper daughter of all. This is why I try to give you pointers. You were about to suck the skin right off his cock head. A proper girl must alternate tenderness and passion, even with our mouths. Especially with our mouths. Our blowjob is unique to each girl. No two girls give the same suck. Our suck job is our signature. You need work on your handwriting, my lovely daughter." Oksana winked.

Pryn nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hit you."

Oksana smiled a wan smile. "That is not my grudge to hold. I am the property of your father. Such damage of his property you will have to make accounts with him. I have already forgotten. Good night."

"Can you untie my hands before you go. I don't want to sleep like this."

"You know I cannot do this."

Pryn huffed. "Okay. Can you turn off my desk lamp?"

Oksana did.

"Mom," Pryn said to the darkness. "What are you going to do when you don't get pregnant this time?"

Oksana stood stock still in the darkness. "I did not exactly break my contract with Chappy," she said after a long pause. "There is a provision for what will happen if I cannot deliver last girl baby."

"Me? I have to do it?"

"Not if you are not collared," Oksana said. "Not if you remain unbound. Daddy has two more babymakers at his whim. He will not wait much longer, though."

"I still don't understand," Pryn said. "You want me to have Daddy's baby or you don't want me to have Daddy's baby?"

"I am conflicted," Oks said. "Nicolai's baby is different than Daddy's baby. Both are complicated. Good night."

Pryn's imagination floated to an overhead view of her walking through an immaculate college campus with books pressed to her chest and an irrepressible smile on her face. That wasn't going to happen if she could not compete at gymnastics, and she sure-as-sugar wasn't going to practice beam flips with a pregnant stomach.

Two very different futures awaited her: Daddy's ersatz wife or college student.

Daddy keyed into Pryn's drawer with the sunrise. He unlocked Pryn's wrists and pulled off Nick's collar. "You must have to piss like a racehorse," Chapman said, tossing all the hardware back in the bondage drawer.

"Yes sir," croaked Pryn.

"Go ahead and pee. Brush your teeth, too. Get some juice out of the fridge and drink as much as you can as quickly as you can. I'm going to drop your mother and brother at the mall to get his school clothes. I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes. Be ready to deal with me."

"Yessir," Pryn whispered through parched lips. "Should I dress?"

"No."

"Should I shower?"

"Not enough time. I'll be right back."

"Can I shower if I don't get my hair wet?"

"If you aren't standing in the living room when I walk back through the door, I'll break your ass, girl. Got it?"

Pryn nodded. "Are you going to break my ass anyway?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll be ready."

Chapman Reynolds marched Pryn into his bedroom and pointed at the messy sheets. The room reeked of sex and sweat. QRBs still hung from the footboard posts with unstrapped ankle cuffs flapping from them.

Pryn climbed into the middle of the bed and waited on her knees, as was the custom.

"Lie down," Chapman said.

He slipped his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. Pryn watched carefully and marveled at her father's physical perfection.

"Wow! What happened to you, Dad?" Pryn pointed at the line of dark stitches sewing up a scabby crease below his left pec. He had another bundle of stitches on his left shoulder.

"Don't worry about it." Chapman pumped his big cock with his big hand until it thickened. His eyes alternated between Pryn's tits and Chapman's pussy.

"What are you doing?" Pryn asked.

"I'm fucking you. You have something to say about that?"

"No sir."

Chapman pulled a small plastic bottle off his chest and thumbed the flip top open. He tilted it to the engorged head of his cock and blurbed out a clear squirt of something. He smeared the glossy concoction with the tip of his index finger. "Don't expect this every time," he said. "You and I are in a cycle of failure and we need to turn things around."

"What is that stuff, Daddy?"

"Just lube. Your best friend today. Don't get used to it." Daddy climbed up on top of Pryn and inserted his trunk between her splayed legs. "Kiss me," Daddy said.

Pryn kissed. And again. And again. Daddy kissed the super-soft kisses like the one he gave her the night before. Daddy's tongue flashed in and out of Pryn's mouth, like Troy's had done. Pryn felt her core warming again. Something inside her, just below the line of her breasts began to glow like a hot wire. Daddy nuzzled her cheek. He kissed her ear. Pryn loved that. Her thighs relaxed and took Daddy's weight. He was still keeping his hips and shoulders high so his cock didn't smash Pryn. Pryn let her hands slide to Daddy's back and the power they encountered melted her even more. Daddy pushed one arm between Pryn and the sheets and locked a grip on Pryn's butt cheek. Daddy lifted Pryn's against his body, making her float over the bed effortlessly. Her tits rubbed Daddy's chest muscles. Daddy's pussy was pulled up into his lower stomach. His kisses took longer and were harder to escape for breaths.

"You ready?" Daddy moaned into Pryn's mouth.

"As ready as I'm going to be," Pryn whispered.

Daddy lowered Pryn back down to the mattress and tilted his head to take some sucks off Pryn's new tits. "Very nice," Daddy said. "I think you're done with cupping. These are perfect tits. They'll probably grow a little more and that's enough."

Pryn was uncertain if this qualified as a compliment and an obligatory "Thank you, Daddy."

Daddy reached down to grip his shaft. Pryn felt the warmth of Daddy's dickhead as he positioned it against his pussy. He shifted his hips and began to lean in while his grip on Pryn's ass prevented her from pushing up on the sheets.

"Oh Daddy, I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready!" Pryn repeated.

Daddy didn't stop. The fullness of his size kept coming, kept stretching. Pryn couldn't tell if she was wet or not because Daddy's bulldozer swept everything inside her as it moved.

"Jesus, Daddy! It hurts."

"I'm going as slow as I can, girl," Daddy said. "There. My head is in. That's as bad as it gets." Daddy let go of his cock and hooked that hand behind Pryn's neck and kissed her some more. The pussy that could not take another centimeter of dick flexed and wetted. Daddy kissed with his tongue and pushed his hips a little more.

Pryn had never know such fullness. She had not known such fullness in the vagina between her legs. She had not known such fullness of how good it felt to take Daddy's massive weight top of her breasts. She had not known the fullness of a man's kiss capable of overwhelming her lungs. She had never known the fullness of the feel of the trunk of a real man's chest being too wide for her arms to wrap around.

Daddy pushed in another two inches and stopped. Pryn felt Daddy flex and pulse his cock. She was sure her hair stood straight up with every twitch. She could feel the extra oomph of Daddy's male strength forcing blood against the inside of her skull.

"Oh crap. Dad. Dad. Dad. Oh." Pryn panted.

Daddy pressed his mouth into Pryn's ear. "Here we go," he rumbled. Daddy pulled out a few inches. Pryn felt her eyes pulling back into her skull with the negative pressure. Then the cock was deep again, a little deeper than before. Then out. Daddy rolled his hips on the downstroke and Pryn's eyes bugged as Daddy's cock head plowed past some sensitive vaginal nerves that Troy and Nick had only teased.

"GwoooOH shit, Dad!" Pryn yipped.

"Good?" Chapman growled in her ear.

Pryn had trouble forming words so she nodded.

"I know," Chapman said, backing out and rocking up into Pryn's G-spot again.

Pryn yipped like a Chihuahua and trashed.

"I know what girls like," Chapman continued. "I know how to fuck a girl so that she stays mine."

Daddy's deep fuckstroke picked up speed and Pryn did not know what to do with all the pleasure and pressure rippling through her. It had a way of pressing strange sounds past her vocal cords. Every so many strokes, Daddy would lift Pryn back to a float and make short grinds against her inner nerve cluster. It made Pryn insane. She wanted to hook her heels around Daddy back thighs and grind against him until she blacked out from pleasure.

Daddy knew just how to turn his knees out to prevent Pryn's heels from finding a good grip. He was in control and that was all there was to it. Pryn rubbed the back of Daddy's neck with one hand and tried to lower her other all the way to his chiseled ass. Daddy had too much torso trunk for a thirteen year old girl. Instead her hand raked over Daddy's line of stitches on his side and he jerked in pain.

"Sorry!" squealed Pryn.

" 'Sokay," nodded Daddy. "You can't hurt me. Go ahead. Tip your nails into my back. You know you want to. Something inside you is telling you to claw me. Do it."

Pryn gave it everything she had, but she was short on fingernails and Daddy was long on hard muscles. On the other hand, Daddy was long on hard cock too, and he assumed a fuck tempo faster and deeper than before.

"Oh-wungh Oh-wungh Oh-wungh," Pryn chanted. Her skin was electric. Daddy's control over her made her feel like a wispy play thing, and the feeling made for more "rightness."

Daddy up-fucked into Pryn's nerve spot again, but this time -- when Pryn could not withstand another overstimulated second -- Daddy didn't stop. He held the fuckstroke right on Pryn's G. Pryn tried to wiggle away from the pounding stimulation but Daddy squeezed her right back down where he wanted her. Pryn's lips went numb from flapping about under Daddy's rapid, bone-rattling impact. She looked at the stallion of a man taking her; mesmerizing her with his hungry eyes. Owning her.

The orgasm started in the backs of her legs and snuck an electric finger of hot sensation into her butthole. From there, Pryn exploded into confetti. She trashed and Daddy just kept fucking her spot until her lungs could not take air in or push air out. Daddy kissed her nose, lowered Pryn back to the bed, and took hard pounding strokes into her depths that shook her. Daddy's big balls spanked Pryn's bottom harder than his hand ever had. Daddy clenched his teeth and hissed. He started coming as Pryn's orgasm finished devouring her central nervous system.

"Ooooooh, there you go girl," he hissed. "Take your man. Take my come."

Pryn nodded. "Yessir. Every drop."

"I'm still coming. Move your ass."

Pryn corkscrewed her hips against the stabbing sensation in her cervix.

"Yeah," Daddy panted. "Nice. Don't stop. Don't stop. Okay, that's good."

Daddy slid his dripping dick backwards and then felled over on the mattress beside Pryn like a crashing oak tree. The mattress nearly bounced Pryn into the air.

"Not bad," Daddy stretched. "I expected a lot more bitching out of you. You took a good fucking, Prinadlez. I didn't try to break you, but I didn't hold back, either. Nicely done."

"Thanks, Dad. You want me to leave now?"

"What? No! Of course not. C'mere." Chapman pulled Pryn into his armpit and wrapped her in his heavy arms. Pryn felt like a spent tissue in a trash compactor. It felt good. She felt safe. Chapman's hands took turns warming various parts of Pryn's exposed skin with his palms. He was still throwing sex heat and Pryn was plenty warm in her Daddy cocoon.

Pryn nuzzled her dad's small nipple with her cheek. "I orgasmed," Pryn said.

"I know," Daddy whispered.

"I've never orgasmed having that kind of sex before," Pryn said. "For that matter, I haven't orgasmed that many times at all. Nick isn't a giver, he's a taker."

"That's Nick," said Daddy. "Sooner or later he'll learn that it's easier to keep dominion over his women when they get a little somethin'."

Pryn waited for Daddy to explain, but he said no more. Pryn felt absolutely delighted and whole to be held in sweaty post-coital with her old man. She could count on two hands the number of times in her life Daddy soaked her in his attention. There was nothing better. Man attention of any kind was good. Daddy was ten times as much man as any other man Pryn had ever met, so his attention was that much better. Daddy kissed the top of Pryn's head, as though he could hear her thoughts. Pryn smiled and sighed with contentment.

Her fingers rippled across the chiseled landscape of Daddy's stomach, up to his chest. Daddy's spent cock glistened on top of his thigh. Pryn marveled at the perfection of it. Her fingertip circled the stitches in Chapman's right shoulder.

She wanted to know, but she could not ask.

"I was shot," Daddy said, again reading Pryn's mind.

"Shot?"

"Shot and stabbed."

"Really? Spill! What happened?"

Chapman said nothing for along time. He rubbed Pryn's butt. He rubbed Pryn's arm. His fingers came around and pulled at different parts of Pryn's left tit.

"Our team was picking up a shipment of pipe that was supposed to load out of Suriname but somehow got diverted to Colombia. We were no more over the border when local militia cut off the truck and ran us into a ditch. Three of our guys got kidnapped. I got away."

"And they shot you?"

"No. I got a bit too close to a machete. That's my side there. Pretty, ain't it?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Only when I laughed. That's an old joke. Yeah. It hurt."

"So if you got away, how did you get shot?"

"Me and six other company guys went after the militia. We had a lead on where they'd be holding the crew for ransom from a guy we knew on the Security team at corporate. Normally we wouldn't have taken the risk, but these same militia assholes had taken the ransom money from the Chinese government a few months earlier and killed the hostages anyway." Chapman went quiet and breathed through his nose for many minutes.

"And?" Pryn finally asked.

"We got our guys out," Chapman said with matter-of-fact earnestness. "And I got shot."

"What happened to the bad guys?"

"They died."

"Did you kill them?"

"Some of them."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not one bit."

"Oh. You just seemed kind of weird about it. Did you get all the hostages?"

"We got all the hostages," Chapman said. "But two of the rescue team died."

"Oh. That's awful."

"It's bad." Chapman nodded and Pryn could feel it through her held body.

"Are you a hero? Did your company give you an award?"

Chapman laughed. "No. They were upset that we didn't follow protocol and two of us died in the process. Really upset. I might get demoted or I might get fired."

Pryn stiffened. "So that's what's been up your butt since you've been back? I could tell something was eating at you."

"It is what it is," Chapman said. "Nothing for you to worry about."

"When do you take off again," Pryn asked. Her palm rubbed a circuit in her father's chest hair."

"I'm on paid leave. Unsure when my next assignment is. I'm probably headed out next week to take care of some business."

"Going to see your other family?"

Chapman stiffened. "Your mother tell you that?"

"I figured it out, Dad. I'm not dumb."

Chapman sighed. "No. You aren't dumb. You and I got the brains. I'm thinking of going back for my Master's degree, but I'd have to go to South Dakota to get the degree I want."

"You have an undergraduate degree?"

"Sure. Petroleum Engineering. You didn't know that?"

"Where did you go to college?"

"Fairbanks. I took a block of classes every time I was on assignment in Alaska."

"Oh."

"I thought you knew that."

"Mom gives out details about you on a need-to-know basis. So why are you going to New Orleans?"

"They want to see me."

Pryn lifted up on her elbow and arched her eyebrows in indignant chuff. "What does that-- Oh, never mind!" She dropped back into Daddy's grip and rubbed her shin over Daddy's knee to scratch an itch. "Of course they want to see you. We have to share you."

"We?" Daddy laughed. "I wasn't aware that you were in my stable of ladies."

"I could be," Pryn said. She thought again about that college girl walking across a quad. That was a good dream, but sexing a strong man like Daddy for a living suddenly didn't seem like such a bad way to go either. Daddy knew how to take care of his property. It would be nice to get deep-dicked and held close on a more regular basis. "You could collar me."

Daddy shook his head. "You're a long way from my collar."

"Really? Why?"

"It's not your nature to be owned, Prinadlez. It's not you. I don't want a faker. I want a girl who gives me her everything."

This revelation bothered Pryn. She assumed that the will to become Daddy's kept girl came down to her making a decision. She didn't expect Daddy to rebuff her. "Is that also why you haven't collared Eula?"

Daddy bristled again. His hand stopped rubbing. "No, actually. That has nothing to do with why Eula is not collared. And you don't need to worry about such details."

"Okay," sighed Pryn. Her hand slid down and she touched the head of Daddy's slackened dick with her fingertips. "I was just curious."

"Mmmmph," Chapman chuffed.

"You probably can't afford a new collar for another girl," Pryn teased. "I bet that's it. You are hobo poor with all the Daddy Dances and clothes you buy for six women."

"Not yet," Chapman whispered.

"Are they nice collars? The ones you use for your ceremony? Do they have names on them like the one you put in my drawer."

"You've seen your mom's collar before," Chapman said.

"That thing? That's a crappy collar! That looks like a dog's collar."

"It was."

"Eeeewww! Dad! That's gross!"

"All the collars I have given, and those I have reserved to give at a future date were worn by dogs I had in either Alaska or Siberia. Part of my job as management was to keep a sled team ready for when the storms and snow were too bad for the crawlers. The crawler drivers would go snowblind in a bad storm, but the dogs always knew where to go, even if a musher couldn't see a hand in front of our face."

"So you took some of the collars when you left?"

"No. I only took the collar off dogs who died in service to me. Two of my dogs died in Siberia when the pack team chased off a bear. Your mom has one of those collars because she's a fighter. She's a soldier. The rest of the dogs died of exhaustion in two incidents where we had to push the sleds too hard to get to some men in a rescue situation. I have eight collars from eight bitches who gladly gave their very lives to me. Their everything. Sorry to be harsh, Pryn, but if you think you are wearing one of those before you've shown me at least as much commitment as those dogs did, you are out of your mind."

Chapman checked his watch. "I've got about an hour before I'm supposed to pick up your mother and brother. Go ahead and get a full hot shower and we'll all go to Burger Barn for lunch."

Pryn looked at her father. She lifted out of his arms and came to her knees between his legs. Her tongue stretched past her lips and painted the pussy-glossed head of Chapman's cock. She kissed it with lips as slow and sticky as Daddy had used to kiss her mouth. She looked up at Chapman with sloe eyes and licked again. And again. Daddy's cock thickened, ever-so-slightly. Pryn took the opportunity to suck it on her terms before it hardened into the dick-of-death.

Daddy's pecker tasted like acidic pussy. Nick had made Pryn comfortable with the salty-sour melange of spent cock and dried pussy from all his come play and cleaning. Pryn hissed from her nose at the righteous feeling of Chapman's cock hardening and pushing her jaw open. Pryn listened to her mother. She sucked hard and fast. She stopped to lick and kiss. She worked the top of Daddy's downturned cock knob against the bumpy roof of her mouth with slow, moaning precision.

Daddy's heels started bicycling up and down against he sheets. Pryn moaned from her soul. Daddy's nuts tightened. Pryn pulled his cock out and slapped it against both of her cheeks.

"I know who owns me, Daddy," Pryn whispered. She sucked and licked and fluttered her tongue on Daddy's blood-blushed come hole. "Collar or no collar. I'm your forever-bitch and I'm going to be your best one."

Pryn sucked slow. Daddy's cock skin felt remarkably soft, like somebody had wrapped a hot metal pipe in the softest velvet. The contradiction of soft skin around a rock hard member was magical. She hadn't noticed it so much with Nick, because Nick wasn't blessed with a jaw breaker like Daddy had. Not yet. She traced her fingertips up and down the sides of the cock that she could not disappear into her mouth, which was at least half of it.

Daddy's hand gently caressed the back of Pryn's head. She waited for him to grab her hair and fuck her throat the way Nick sometimes did. Instead he raised his arms back above his head and arched.

Pryn tried to loll her tongue out over her bottom teeth the way Nick liked. There was no room. Her jaw was as wide as it could go and nothing was sneaking past the steel of Daddy's circumference.

Pryn popped off and lowered to Chapman's balls.

He tensed. "Easy there."

"I'll be careful," Pryn whispered. She opened her mouth and heaved hot breath onto Daddy's left testicle. His bag tightened. Pryn licked the ripples of Daddy's tight sack. She opened her mouth wide again and tried to gently ease her teeth around just one of Daddy's plums.

"Eaaasy," Chapman warned.

Pryn bathed the testicle on the saliva-laden scoop of her tongue with no suction, the way she did for Nick's smaller nuts: soft, warm and wet.

"Whooo," Chapman relaxed. "Oh, that's pretty good. That's nice. Yeah. Fuck, girl. I watched you do that to your brother, but I didn't know it felt that good. Enough teasing, get back on your suck. I'm getting close."

Pryn garked Daddy's cock deeper in her throat than she ever dared before and peeled back in an achingly slow upsuck. About the time the ridge of Daddy's glans wedged behind her teeth, Daddy's head rolled about his neck and Pryn finally tasted his fresh, hot seed loading her entire tongue. She thought about leaning in and letting the paste gush straight down her throat, but Pryn decided she wanted to savor the satisfaction of the man who owned her.

It was even better than she wanted it to be.

"I'm going to be late, thanks to you," Daddy said, smiling.

"You can't be late." Pryn smacked her lips and licked the haze of come off her top lip. Then her bottom. "You're the boss."

"Good point." Chapman threw his legs over the side of the bed. "You want to shower with me?"

"Sure!"

"No funny business."

"If you say so."

"I say so."

For the third night in a row, Pryn released the suction on Nick's gelk tube and pulled off the glass to reveal a pulsing purple erection. For the third night in a row, she reached out and squeezed it. For the third night in a row, Nick shivered and swayed his hips. And for the third night in a row he pulled Pryn's wrist away and dismissed her.

"What gives?" Pryn asked. "You can never not take one more orgasm after gelking."

"Don't tease me." Nick's eyes were practically pleading.

"What's the deal? Mom coming up after I'm asleep and sucking you off now?"

Nick shuddered. "Now you are really teasing me. No. Dad told me to save up."

"For what?" Pryn asked.

"You'll see."

Pryn gulped. "Oh. Am I in for a marathon before Dad goes on his trip?"

Nick smirked. "You'll see."

"How much longer do I have to wait to find out?"

"Dunno. I hope it's tonight. I'm fucking dying." Nick squeeze the base of his cock and shook it. Driblets of coffee-hot pre-come rained onto Pryn's neck.

Nick looked as if he were in misery. He had longing in his eyes as he fingered his flushed erection and looked at his sister like a parched man regards a tall glass of ice water. Pryn perceived the shift in power and fancied it funny to give Nick the business.

"Just one little suckity-suck, brother? My Prince? You wouldn't come from just-tah one, soft-tah. Wet-tah. Tongue-y suckity-suck-suck. No. You've got so much control. Daddy wouldn't be mad if I just..." Pryn licked her lips and clutched her breasts with her hands and squeezed them through her shirt. "Mmmmm, if I just wrapped my horny whore mouth around that needy cock for a minute and made it a little warm and wet. Daddy would let that go, wouldn't he?"

Nick stared at his sister and seemed to have trouble swallowing. His fist squeezed the base of his cock until it turned purple and began a steady crystal drip from the tip. "Get out of here," he panted. "Go."

Pryn drew her index finger downward against her bottom lip so it folded out and licked her fingertip while she squinted. "Mmmmm. What am I going to find to fill my horny mouth? I bet Daddy isn't saving up."

Nick blinked and his hand moved a little faster. "He doesn't want your suck. You're not that good. He'd get it from Mom."

"He liked it fine a couple days ago when you and Mom were shopping for clothes."

"Really," Nick asked. "You sucked him?"

"I fucked him and I sucked him."

"Sucked him off? Did he come?"

Pryn licked her lips and sucked a finger while she squeezed her tit. "Mmmmm. Of course! He came once in your-- I mean his pussy. Oh, he's a good fuck, Nick. Daddy is quite a pussy fucker. And then he blew his second load on my tongue. He told me to leave after he pounded a load into his pussy, but I had to suck it, Nicky. I just had to get that thick, creamy load of Daddy-come."

"Did you play with it?" Nick's hand absently inched his strokes closer to the head of his cock.

"Daddy's come? Of course I did!" Pryn lied. I had such a mouthful it was dripping over my lip, but I pinched some way up in the air and it made a big sticky white string of Daddy's come and my suck spit."

Nick lost all pretense and beat his meat furiously. "You're turning into a fucking whore."

"I can't help it," Pryn gave a fake babydoll frown and batted her eyes. "Those long streams of thick, hawt, sticky come. Did I tell you that after Daddy spermed your-- HIS pussy, I pushed out a huge, frothy cream pie? And I licked it aaaaallll up in tiny kitten licks with the tippy-tip of my pink whore tongu--"

"MUUUNNNNNHHH!" Nick blasted Pryn in the forehead with a rope of hot come. Then another. And then six more.

Pryn laughed. "Gotcha!"

Nick froze and looked up at the camera in the ceiling. "FUCK! Pryn! You better not have got me in trouble. I will fucking kill you when Dad leaves if you got me in trouble!"

Pryn laughed an evil laugh and jumped up off her knees.

"Pryn!" seethed Nick.

Pryn ran for the living room, laughing all the way. Stupid Nick ran after her, stopping when his Dad shouted, "HEY! Knock it off you two! You're flinging splooge all over the fucking furniture! Nick, what did I tell you about saving up?"

Pryn stood in the kitchen, out of Chapman's line of sight. She pointed her finger and mouthed a hearty silent laugh at her stunned brother.

"I... I had a wet dream," Nick said.

"You dumbass," Chapman shook his head.

Pryn doubled over in pantomime laughter.

"Prinadlez!" Nick screamed in rage and pointed a finger of his own into the kitchen. "March your pink ass up those stairs this minute! I'm going to crop you until the crop snaps in two!"

"Oh shut up, boy. You'll do no such thing. Go clean your junk and quit dripping on the carpet."

"Don't tell me how to discipline my bitch!" Nick shouted, red-faced.

Pryn instantly stopped laughing. She saw Chapman's book get tossed onto the coffee table and watched her father hinge up off the couch, slowly and silently. Chapman stepped toward his son, towering over Nick's upturned face.

"Excuse me?" Chapman Reynolds said softly. "Who's bitch?"

"You gave her to me!" Nick was already losing his nerve.

"Uh huh," Chapman said. "And if you want to keep her and your new toy after I leave, you better check yourself, boy."

Nick blinked himself back into control over his fury. Pryn exhaled.

Even Daddy was surprised when Nick clocked him hard in the jaw. Daddy's face rocked to the side. Pryn's heart stopped.

Daddy slowly turned back toward Nick. "Son," he hissed through his teeth. "What did I teach you about a punch? Always throw at least two. Two cost the same as one, and you might as well get your money's worth."

Nick jabbed Chapman in the teeth with his left. Chapman's head barely moved.

"Excellent," Chapman said. "Your mechanics are much improved. You're punching from the shoulder. Keeping your chin tucked. I'm impressed." He spit a patch of blood onto the glass of the coffee table. "But I'm still upright. What the fuck are you just standing there for, Dumbass?"

Nick threw a right cross and a left uppercut. Chapman stopped them both before they landed with his big palms as if he were catching a couple of tennis balls. Daddy moved so fast that Pryn couldn't even see what happened next. Suddenly naked Nick was up in the air on a diagonal, his hands swimming frantically. He could not swim away from landing through the glass top of the coffee table. The wooden corners of the furniture shattered like match sticks. The explosive sound made Pryn flinch. Nick didn't move. He made a gurgling sound.

Oksana came running upstairs from where she had been ironing. "What happened?"

"Pryn," Chapman said, "Run up and get the most raggedy towel you can find out of the linen closet. Dumbass is going to need stitches and he better not bleed on the carpet or on my car seats. NOT THIS WAY, GIRL! Jesus! You're barefoot and there is glass everywhere. Cut back through the kitchen and through the foyer."

"Nicolai!" Oksana screamed as she approached her son. "Nicolai! Are you okay?"

050914: DAWSON,P. (exct) F: #1661

Q: So, was he okay?

A: Not really. He was a long damn way from "okay." He had a pretty good size square of glass sticking out of his back. It's crazy my parents didn't call an ambulance. It's a miracle he didn't cut his spine or his kidneys in the process of loading him into the car or out to the emergency room. Dad was smart enough to insist Mom leave the big pieces of glass in him so he didn't bleed out for yanking them out.

I forget how many stitches Nick ended up getting. Over a hundred. Like a hundred and thirty, or about that.

He was home that night.

A: And your father?

Q: He could not have been more proud of his son. He was beaming. Nick was insane to take on Daddy, but Daddy... He respected Nick for it. What Nick did was stupid, but it was Alpha. Daddy liked the Alpha part.

A: So, no further hostility?

Q: Not with Nick, no. Daddy delayed his trip to Louisiana for a week.

A: Keeping an eye on Nick's wounds.

Q: [laughs] No. Waiting until Nick had recovered enough they could double me.

A: Double you?

Q: Double team me. With all those sutured men going at me, it was like being gang-banged in Dr. Frankenstein's Lab.

A: You want to talk about that?

Q: You just cringed, Doc.

A: No I didn't.

Q: Yes you did! You'd rather I didn't give any details. I can tell.

A: Sorry. I may have cringed a bit. Why don't you go ahead and talk it out.

Q: Have you ever been in a three-way? Ever had group sex?

A: I have not.

Q: I didn't hate it, but it's a lot of work. A lot of work. Daddy and Nick were both a handful of chore all by themselves. Daddy was more than a handful, if you know what I mean. I didn't mind servicing the men individually. I didn't mind the submissive part. I even liked it when Daddy and I were alone together and he was intimate and slow with me.

But doubling the number of guys a girl is sexing has a way of quadrupling the amount of work a girl has to do to get them over. Like, when Daddy and Nick doubled me, it would always start with them sitting in chairs next to each other, or sitting next to one another on the edge of the bed while I knelt with one of their cocks in each hand. I'd no more suck one of them up into a lathered frenzy when the other one would grab my hair and pull me over on his cock. Of course I was stroking the one I wasn't sucking, but... Say it was Daddy. I'd get Daddy all squirmy and his shaft thumping, and then I was yanked over to suck Nick while I stroked Daddy. By the time Daddy pulled me back on his cock, he'd cooled enough that he was running me and I couldn't keep any momentum toward his orgasm.

I guess that was the point. A lot of girls think getting doubled is going to scratch a fantasy itch. Joanie is obsessed with it. Girls think with two guys, it is insurance that one of them is going to get her over. But girls don't realize how powerless they are and how difficult it is to own the moment. Guys have all the advantage.

By the time Daddy put me on my hands and knees, I was a sweaty mess from trading off slurpy sucks. Taking two cocks at the same time was a little easier. Neither he nor Nick wanted me to stroke their cocks when I was sucking from all fours. They wanted sex to last longer. They got competitive with one another. Nick could come more times than Daddy, but Daddy had the bigger loads and it was more satisfying to finally put him over. Before I got there, they'd rock me back and forth between the cock that was pounding pussy and the one thrusting in my throat.

Nick was usually the first to pop, and almost always in my mouth. Then he'd go sit in a chair while Daddy spun me back and forth between fucking and sucking. Nick would be coming back for his second turn about the time Daddy concentrated on doggy fucking me until I came. My orgasm tended to trigger his orgasm. By that time, Nick was back in my jaw, jamming his tool down my throat.

Are you squirming?

Q: No.

A: Uh huh. An average double for Daddy and Nick ran about two hours. That was the first time they doubled me, both of them with stitches. The first time of countless times they doubled me. At least a hundred times. Nick only wanted blowjobs when I was menstruating. Daddy could not care less if I was flowing. "A real cowboy rides in the rain," he'd say. That's when Nick would get squeamish and tap out and I'd have Daddy all to myself. Mom said endurance was an important skill for a girl to know. She wasn't kidding. Sometimes I was more sore from doubling my men than I was after gymnastics class.

Q: You mother was aware of what your father and brother were doing.

A: Sure. It was "game on," by then. I slept with her and Daddy at least once a week when he was home and they weren't fighting. Sometimes twice/ I learned a lot more from Mom than I did from watching the girls in Nick's pornos with him.

Did you know it's harder for two girls to suck off one man at the same time than it is for one woman? I'm not kidding. You think it'd be easier, right? You'd think a girl only had to do half the work, right? Nope. It goes back to what my mom said about a girl's blowjob being her signature. Every girl has her own style and every style has a rhythm. Every time you trade off sucking the same cock, you break the other girl's rhythm and the guy looses a little orgasm momentum for a minute while he adjusts to the new rhythm. Then bang. Rhythm broken again.

Mom taught me how to dance-in on another girl's suck by observing her suck rhythm and feeling the timing of it before crowning -- that was Mom's word for taking over on a two-girl blowjob -- and then keeping the existing rhythm for a few minutes before you turn it to how you like to suck a cock. It's less jarring to the guy. We practiced on Daddy when he was home. Of course we practiced on Nick when Daddy was not home. Sometimes before we got started on Daddy, he'd pull out his wallet and put a twenty dollar bill on his nightstand. Every once in a while he'd lay out a Benjamin. He wouldn't say anything. We just understood that whichever one of us, Mom or me, who was sucking on Daddy's cock when Daddy came would get that money. With Nick running the budget you'd be surprised how aggressively we chased twenty dollars of off-the-books cash money.

Yeah. Mom taught me how to be a pretty good whore. She taught me to mind my heels and toes when I posed to suck or fuck. I already had that down from gymnastics, but when Daddy really started banging on me hard, sometimes I'd come out of my body a little. I'd come unglued and think more about my vibrating g-spot than keeping my legs graceful. Mom was there to remind me to point my toes. Pointing your toes and keeping them curled tight keeps the backs of your legs tight. That keeps a girl responsive to her man, like the way a steeplechase rider connects with a horse.

Mom taught me that when a man is fucking, a girl should do everything to convince the man that he really wants to pull out and stick his cock in her horny mouth. When a girl is sucking on her man's dick, she should play with the pussy and make like the guy would be so much happier if he would just fuck his girl. Guys are predisposed to wanting whatever they aren't getting in-the-moment. They eat that shit up. A bitch can knock twenty or thirty minutes off a sex session by doing opposition psychology.

Q: Don't say that word. You don't mean that.

A: Bitch? It's just a word, Doc. It's okay. All it means is that a girl is owned on some level. I was very much owned. Men like to own their women and women like to be owned by their men. It's primal. It's id.

Q: It can be.

A: Speaking of which. You got a little tent going on there, Doc. Oh, don't hide it with your notepad. It's not a big deal. You're human. I am almost out of paid sessions. Are you sure you don't want to work out a barter for another six or so hours?

Q: Ms. Dawson, what are you doing?

A: What does it look like I'm doing.

Q: Polly. Please. Stop. Put your clothes back on.

A: You don't have to do anything. You can just look, right?

Q: I'm going to insist that you stop.

A: I've been trying to figure you out, Doc. I think I've finally got it. It's nothing about ethics or your license. You know me. You know I'd never say a word. It's not like I could fuck you and then turn around and get you in trouble. Polly Dawson doesn't even really exist, right? Good luck filing suit as a ghost in the State of New York.

Q: Put your clothes on. Please.

A: No. There's something else. I'm betting that you've already been caught stepping out on your wife. Right?

Q: Polly...

A: You got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Not a patient, 'cause as empathic and sweet and caring as you are, that's not your style. No, you got caught with someone else. Old flame, maybe. Lonely singleton two brownstones down? Something like that? Sweetie, I can smell it on you. Your mouth is dry. The backs of your hands are sweaty. You are horny as fuck, but you're "walking the line," at home, aren't you? You've already played your mess-up card and you are on probation with the missus.

Q: I need you to leave. Now.

A: I need more time in this chair. You need to know if there is some kind of magic in my Beta whoredom. You need to know if it is just more mushy vortex down right here in this pink pussy, or if I can do something for you that no other woman has ever done.

Q: We can negotiate additional sessions, Ms. Dawson.

A: That's what I'm doing. Negotiating.

Q: That's it, Polly. Out. Leave now.

[END RECORDING]

OCTOBER 2003

Chapman returned from New Orleans after a month. By that time there was no illusion left Oksana might be pregnant. Chapman Reynolds' exasperation turned to bitterness, and his bitterness manifested in his short temper with Oksana.

This time there were no beatings. None that crossed Pryn's awareness. Daddy was angry, but he was also sad.

Pryn immersed herself in the politics and trials of the LadyKat Juniors. Madam Breshevilski did not exaggerate when she warned Pryn how much harder the new gym was going to be under the direction of Miss Wells. Pryn had grown accustomed to being the best gymnast at Madam B's. The second week in October, Miss Wells took the top ten girls to Indianapolis for a competition Pryn did not make the cut. She and eleven other girls were left behind.

Pryn burned. She smoldered. She was too angry at herself to cry.

"What am I doing wrong?" Pryn asked Miss Wells.

"You are very fluid. Very graceful, Pryn. Your small mechanics are very soft. Judges don't like that. They want robots and very distinct posing that is easier for them to judge. They want traditional. You've got some... Some kind of stripper thing going on with your hips and your hands. Tighten it up. And besides. You've been here for a month. Juanita, Danine, Jarella, and Bethany have been with the team three years. Relax. Your time will come."

Pryn resolved to not miss the competition team again.

For all the nights Pryn lost sleep about keeping her move to the LadyKat Juniors a secret, it turned out to be a non-event. Daddy didn't look up from the television when Pryn lied and said she was being moved to a new gym that was closer to the high school. "I've talked to Nick about it," Daddy mumbled. "Just let him know when you need another check."

High School was better than middle school. Getting away from Nick for seven hours a day was better than always looking over her shoulder in the hallways and lunch room, wondering if he was following her. Watching her. Nick was another one of Daddy's cameras.

The bus for the high school ran an hour later than Nick's middle school bus. Pryn didn't get any more sleep, but Nick couldn't make her late if he was in a mood to keep morning sex going as long as possible.

On the other hand, Troy Walker and Megan Willet were now a thing and they sat by one another on the bus and held hands. That bothered Pryn more than it should have. She used to like Megan Willet when they were in grade school. Now Pryn wished upon her pimples like the ones that were plaguing Nick.

Daddy called for Pryn one evening. Pryn crossed her mother on the stairs. "Where are you going?" Pryn asked.

Oksana was crying. "Just you tonight. I am going to sleep in your room."

After a long blowjob, Daddy mounted Pryn and rocked her slow and deep on her back. His lips kept finding Pryn's skin: Ears. Breasts. Neck. Pryn had not been horny when she arrived in Daddy's room, she was merely going to do her sex duty and try to get some shut-eye before she had to get up for school. But she was gushing wet and grinding her hips now. Daddy kept kissing the line where her shoulder became her neck. His girthy cock started an upsweep of his cock knob against her g-spot nerves at the same time his kisses turned into nip bites. Daddy biting the top of her shoulders and the sides of her neck spun Pryn into an involuntary thrashing.

Tremors became contractions. Contractions became waves. Waves became a wall of fire. The fire became all consuming. Consumption became compete and total serenity.

Somewhere outside Pryn's mind, Daddy was flipping her to her knees like a rag doll and mounting her again. The white ring of her eardrums cleared to the sound of skin colliding with skin and she felt Daddy thrusting into her very deepest parts. Daddy was breathing between his teeth. He pounded with six consecutive thrusts that felt like they were going through the top of Pryn's cervix and into her stomach.

Daddy moaned and backed off his thrusts to just mid-cock and the head. Pryn knew he was milking his pleasure to get the rest of his come into her. When Daddy stopped pumping, he did not pull out. He wrapped his arms around Pryn's stomach and chest and picked her up, still attached at their respective sex. Daddy lie back on the bed and kept Pryn's back against his chest. His hands gently swept up and down Pryn's stomach and tits and neck.

"That was a good one, Daddy," Pryn said.

"I know. You weren't into it at first. But I could tell you came pretty hard at the end. Your knees were vibrating."

Pryn wasn't sure she liked not being able to look at Daddy as he held her in the afterglow. She was balanced on top of him with nothing to look at but the ceiling, her feet on his thighs. Daddy's strong hands kept her in place, his half thick cock still plugged into his pussy.

"I'm glad you had a good time," Chapman continued. "I wanted to love on you a little. I wanted to be good to you. I've been reinstated and I'm headed back out to Russia."

"Oh," Pryn said. "That's good, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well. I'll... I'll miss you while you are gone."

Chapman kissed Pryn on the back of her earlobe. "I believe you. Nicolai will take good care of you."

"How long until you are back?"

"I don't know."

Pryn stiffened. "What does that mean? You always know how long your assignments are."

"I know how long the assignment is, Prinadlez. I'm just not sure when I'm going to be back in Louisville."

Pryn tried to unpack what her father was saying. "Going to Louisiana when you get back?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Maybe a long time."

Pryn blinked. She desperately wanted to measure her father's expression, but all she could see was the orange peel texture of the bedroom ceiling.

"Is this about Mom not being pregnant?"

"I'm tired of fighting about it, Darlin'," Chapman sighed. "I'm so tired of the drama. I can't imagine that I'll be back anytime soon. I wanted some time with you before I go. I want you to know I love you."

The hairs on Pryn's skin rippled in the same direction. Daddy had just said something he never said before. Pryn realized that "I don't know when I'll be back" translated to "I'm never coming back." It was going to be another one of those times like when she was a toddler and Daddy disappeared for almost three years.

"Daddy," Pryn said.

"Shush." Chapman pulled his fingers across Pryn's lips. "Just be here with me in this minute, girl. Just be. Let this soak in and stay in my heart for a long time."

Chappy Reynolds was snoring when Pryn showered in the en suite. Oksana was in the kitchen, eyes red, with scrambled eggs waiting for Pryn.

By the time the carpool dropped Pryn off after gymnastics, Daddy was gone and Oksana's eyes were even more red.

Pryn dropped her bag in the kitchen and hugged her mother as hard as she could. "He'll be back," Pryn whispered.

"I hope so," Oksana whispered back. Her chest hitched and she began to sob.

NOVEMBER 2003

When it finally happened, Pryn wondered how she could have not seen it coming.

Nick brought home a girlfriend; a short, zaftig blonde with a cherubic smile. He took her up in his room and closed the door. Pryn heard the girl giggle. Then a lot of "Ow. Slow down!" Then sex.

A month later, Nick traded Mindy for a redhead with impressive knockers. They were especially impressive for a junior high girl. She was older than Nick, but Nick was "manning up." Pryn had to admit he was going to be a really cute boy. He was finally letting his hair get longer than tennis ball fuzz before having it cut. It was long enough to style and it looked pretty good. The redhead, Delores, seemed a lot more accommodating to whatever went on in Nick's room with the door closed.

Delores was headed out the door one evening before dinner, waving good night to Pryn and Oksana. Oksana pointed at Delores's passing back and gestured at Pryn. Pryn followed Delores out the door. "Honey," Pryn said. "You've got a serious goop of come on your chin. Can you not feel that?"

Delores froze and pawed the hazy drip onto her fingers to look at it. "Whoops! Thanks. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't you wipe that on your jeans!" Pryn admonished. "That's my brother's come."

Delores looked at Pryn and then tentatively sucked the come from her own fingers.

"That's better," nodded Pryn. "Show a little respect."

Back in the house, Pryn wondered why she did that. She puzzled at what insane part of her had just bubbled to the surface and acted as crazy as the rest of the certifiable family at 327 Chesapeake Court. It felt good to humiliate Delores. It felt good to boss somebody else around for a change.

JANUARY 2004

An outsider would have thought it was Oksana's birthday. Not Pryn's Fourteenth.

Pryn didn't have gymnastics on Wednesdays. She looked took the bus home and knew the truth as soon as she looked at her mother.

"Didn't call?" Pryn asked.

Oksana shook her head and chopped carrots with a vengeance.

"Oh well. He's probably really busy."

"Fucking hole of an ass," muttered Oksana.

Chapman Reynolds had not called the house a single time since the day he left. Radio silence, just like when Pryn was a toddler.

"Is Delores here?" Pryn asked.

"She is staying for birthday dinner."

"Cool!" Pryn forced a smile. She did not dislike Delores. They had a lot in common. They were fucking and sucking the same guy.

Although one might say they had less in common every day. Oksana was now Nicolai's sex toy of choice. In the manner of his father, Nick didn't bother to take mother to a room when he took a notion. Pryn walked by Oksana sucking Nick on the couch, or Nick fucking mother on top of the dining room table. Pryn thought that sex on an eating surface was disgusting, but she had nothing to say about it.

Nick was more discrete with Delores, taking her to his room and closing the door. Delores and Nick sexed at least four times a week.

Nick's third choice was a blowjob from Oksana and Pryn at the same time. That never took long. Oks and Pryn were a practiced team and they could suck Nick's balls dry in ten minutes.

That left Pryn (solo) as Nick's fourth backup sex slave. Once he started with basketball practice, Pryn could go as long as two weeks without seeing Nick's dick. He was gelking himself now. His nightly inspections of Pryn were all business.

Pryn focused on her sport and her academics. Once again she missed the cut for a competition team headed for Pensacola. Once again she focused and doubled down on perfecting every move. The position of each wrist. The bend of each ankle. Her calf and lower shin became two entities in her mind. She was on a path to know true, perfect control of her body. Slightly easier now that she had more control of her person.

After Pryn went to bed on her birthday, she could not sleep. She turned the light back on and stood on her bed. She looked up at the camera on her ceiling. She kissed her fingers and lifted her hand to touch the camera. She mouthed, "I love you, Daddy. I know you are there."

APRIL 2004

Daddy did not call on Nick's birthday. Nick tried to call him on the Sat phone, but the voicemail message said Chapman's voicemail box was full.

When Nick mentioned this at dinner, Oksana exploded into tears and ran to her room.

"The fuck was that?" Nick asked Pryn.

"How many times have you called Dad?" Pryn sighed and surrendered her pork chop to her lost appetite.

"Just once. Today."

"But his voicemail is full. That means he's not listening to and processing his messages."

"Yeah?"

"Who do you think all those other unheard voice messages are from, Nick?"

"Mom? Oh."

Pryn nodded with a grim expression. "He must really be pissed if he's not even listening to her phonemails."

JUNE 2004

Chapman Reynolds still had not called.

Nick gifted Delores with a diamond necklace, and for the first time he broke the budget. For two weeks the family ate the forgotten frozen stuff in the back of the freezer. Freezer-burned chicken breasts. Nick had a beef pot pie and Oks and Pryn split a turkey pot pie. For lunch they had steamed asparagus. For dinner they had only a bowl of peas.

Pryn went to her piggy bank to buy birth control pills and some protein bars she kept hidden. They tasted like guilt when she crawled into her closet to eat them. Pryn wanted to share with her mother, but she also could not afford to lose the muscles she worked so hard to develop.

Oksana signed up for a food pantry charity and that helped. After the fourth night in a row of peanut butter sandwiches, Nick hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I really fucked up. I'm sorry. I failed my women. I failed my family. I'm dog shit. I'm sorry."

SEPTEMBER 2004

Dumbass Nick turned out to be not such a dumbass after all. His guidance counselor tested him out of eighth grade and into high school. Nick had always been too old for his peers, barely missing the age cut-off that kept him two years behind Pryn, even though he was only fifteen months younger.

Nick was delighted to be in high school with Delores instead of being her embarrassing Junior High boyfriend. He signed up for the freshman football team, but they had been practicing all summer. Nick could not do any better than third-string running back, but he liked being part of the team and the hard practices.

Nick got in a fight with a sophomore kid he had bad blood with and earned a three-day suspension. That got him kicked off the football team. It was a bitter lesson, but Nick ate it and moved on. Basketball season was around the corner, so he stayed after school practicing free throws and bulking up in the weight room.

Once again, Pryn missed the cut for Junior LadyKats hosting an open tournament. But Daisy Yarborough was iffy with the flu, so Pryn was taken as an eleventh alternate. She never got to compete, but she took solace knowing she was finally close to the "grownups table." She was so close to where she wanted to be as an athlete she could taste it. She practiced even harder.

A cute nerd named Steve asked Pryn to the Winter Wonderland dance. Pryn was flattered, even if Steve wasn't exactly as adorable as Troy Walker. Pryn considered asking Nick for permission. She ultimately turned Steve down without asking. Why rock the boat?

NOVEMBER 2014

Pryn took bronze on the beam and missed bronze on the uneven bars by less than six one-hundreths of a point.

She also had sex with a boy she met in the St. Louis hotel where they were staying. She narrowly missed being caught sneaking back into her room by Miss Wells.

Later in life Pryn would realize that Miss Wells knew exactly what happened and let it slide.

JANUARY 2005

Pryn walked in from Gymnastics to find her mother smoking in the kitchen. Smoking as bold-as-you please.

"What are you looking?" Oksana shrugged at Pryn.

"Since when do you smoke?"

"Since I was eleven."

"You do not!"

"You don't know everything. Why do you think there are no batteries in smoke detector by basement window."

"For the love, Mom, what's got into y--"

That's when Pryn finally saw it. On the kitchen island. The housing for one of Chapman's cameras. Pryn looked up and saw a tiny black drill hole in the ceiling with two wires sticking out of it. "Mom?" Pryn asked.

Pryn walked into the living room slowly. The camera from that ceiling was on top of the television. She walked through the house and confirmed that Oksana had removed every camera, snipped the wires, and left them for dead. Pryn circled back into the kitchen where Oksana was lighting a new cigarette off the stub the previous one.

"Mom?" Pryn asked again, even more astonished. "What have you done?"

Oksana shrugged and pointed at the land line telephone mounted to the wall with a cigarette between two fingers. "Son of bitch will have to call now, no?"

"He's going to kill you."

"He has to come home to kill me. First he will call. You watch." Oksana smiled a thin smile and looked at the telephone as if she expected it to ring any second.

It didn't.

Daddy did not call that night. Or the next. Or the next.

He did not call on Pryn's birthday. Delores gifted Pryn an old Polaroid camera she bought at a second hand store and five packs of film for it. Pryn had heard of Polaroid instant cameras, but she'd never seen one.

"I remember those," Oksana said. "Those were like digital cameras before digital cameras. If I had a hundred rubles for every time I had a man point one of those at me, we would live in mansion."

"You think it's dumb?" Delores asked.

"No," Pryn smiled. "It's retro. It's cool. I love it. Thank you, honey!"

After Delores left, Nick used every bit of the film taking blurry Polaroid's of Oksana and Pryn sucking his cock. "Where's the focus on this fucker?" he asked. "The film packs must be too old. Everything is out of focus. Jesus, this is dark. So is this one. Where's the flash?"

"Flash goes in hole on top," Oksana pulled her mouth away from Nick's cock long enough to explain. "Extra. Not built in."

"What a piece of shit," Nick said.

After he came in Pryn's mouth (Hap-pee Birthday!) Nick stood Oksana against the wall of his room and snapped a bunch of photos. She was shy and not happy about it. "Nick, you can show these to no one. You will get us in serious trouble."

"I'm going to sell these to Verhagen," Nick laughed. "Okay, Pryn now you. Lift your tits nice and high. Higher. Good. What the? It's not working. Oh. Out of film. What did you do with the other film pack, Pryn?"

"You used it all."

"Not all of it. There was another-- Oh shit. I guess I did. Sorry. I used up all your birthday present."

MARCH 2005

Pryn stopped by the side of the house before she came in from school. She pulled the paper from her backpack and held it up for the one camera on the side of the house that Oksana had missed in her destructive fury.

Holding the paper toward the camera was now a daily ritual.

WE LOVE YOU, DADDY.

PLEASE COME HOME.

The phone never rang.

MAY 2005

Floor: Bronze.

Bars: Bronze.

Vault: Silver.

Beam: Silver.

Delores was history. Nick was dating by committee, a new girl every two weeks. Nick got cuter and his skin cleared. He was dating the prettiest girls in the school, some older than Pryn. Nick had a reputation for being a skillful cocksman and a good pussy licker. That's what the graffitti in the girls' bathroom said.

Pryn rolled her eyes as she patted the pee from her (Daddy's) pussy in the stall. She didn't believe Nick had licked a pussy in his entire life.

JUNE 2005

Floor: Silver.

Bars: Bronze.

Vault: Gold.

Beam: Gold.

Oksana smoked like a Jewish Deli. She spent more time in bed. Pryn emptied the ashtrays next to Oksana's bed, terrified that her mother was going to start a fire by smoking inside the house.

Pryn's best-kept secret was how much time she spent on Nick's laptop, looking at videos about the University of Kentucky. She watched videos made by the sororities, looking for one where female athletes would feel at home.

"What are you doing?" Oksana skulked through Pryn's door. Pryn jumped and closed the top on the laptop.

"Nothing."

"It's three in the morning. Why are you up, looking at computer?"

"Just couldn't sleep."

"Tell me about it." Oksana walked to Pryn's window and pinched the venetian blinds open. She looked out at the back yard as if she expected to see something interesting in the darkness. "Tom Verhagen has lights on too. Maybe I should go over and fuck his brains out. Maybe we both get some sleep then."

Pryn could not tell if her mother was kidding.

"Grades came in mail today," Oksana said. "How is possible you get four point three? I thought four was most you could get."

"Honors Composition and Honors History. An A in those classes counts for more than four."

"No maths?" Oksana asked. "Your brother is special good at maths."

"Math and I are not enemies," Pryn said, "but we aren't exactly going on any dates together, either."

"Nick is good at maths."

"Yeah. I know, Mom."

"What are you going to do now that school is over and your tumbling has stopped for the summer?"

"Nick said I could take the job at the bakery for the summer. I have to get up at the ass crack of dawn and I'm home by one in the afternoon, so he said he'd probably be sleeping and not even know I'm gone."

Oksana nodded. "Are you keeping your check?"

Pryn shrugged. "Most of it. Nick said he was going to skim some for family funds."

"Not a bad idea," Oksana said. "You are first in family besides your father to have a legitimate job. Congratulations."

"Uhm. Thanks. I think."

"How are you going to stay in shape for your tumbling over summer?"

"Keeping an eye on you, Mom." Pryn smiled but she wasn't sure Oks could see her.

"I fucking hate her," Oksana said. "Hate. Hate. White-hot hate. I put a whammy on her I learned in the old country. Fucking hate her and hope she dies in a deep well."

Pryn didn't know what to say.

JULY 2005

Chapman Reynolds finally called Nick's phone. He spoke to Nick for less than three minutes. A week later Nick was on a plane to New Orleans. Oksana panicked, but Nick assured her he'd be back in three weeks. Dad wanted him to stay longer, but he had to be back in Louisville in time for football camp.

The timing of Nick's departure worked out for Pryn. Nick could not thwart her trip to Lexington. Lisa Wells took those girls who were going to be high school juniors to meet Mr. Muhammad and tour the UK gymnastics program.

Pryn had never loved anything as much as she loved the sensation of walking across that campus on the way to the gym. She loved the architecture of the old buildings. She loved the weathered cylindrical units on the street corners where local bands stapled their colorful concert flyers. She loved the hippy-looking boys who stayed for summer session. She loved the sound of the riding mowers making the grass perfect.

The lights in the gymnasium were brighter. The equipment was newer. The mats were cleaner.

"So you are Pryn Reynolds?" Mo Muhammad shook Pryn's hand. "I've heard a lot of good things about you. I saw the video of you crush that vault triple in Saint Louis. I hope when you're sorting your scholarship offers next summer, you'll give the hometown bricks a fair shake, okay? If you want to stay in Louisville and be a Cardinal, that's a fine way to go. If you want to go somewhere out west where it's sunny and the boys surf, nobody will fault you for that. But if you want to come a just little farther east, we hope you'll consider Lexington. You could thrive here, young lady."

Pryn nearly floated away like a balloon. The thought of going anywhere other than the Lexington campus was unfathomable.

Mr. Mohammad put a hand on her shoulder. "You are a force of nature, young lady. Keep up those grades, stay healthy, and nothing can stop you. It would take an epic act-of-God to derail a future as bright as yours, Pryn."

AUGUST 18, 2005

Nick finally returned. Oksana looked out the front window and watched a cabbie unloading his bags from the trunk. Nick slung his garment bag over his shoulder and wheeled two suitcases up the driveway in each hand.

Pryn slid up behind her mother to see why she had gasped.

"Oh my," Pryn whispered.

Nicolai was dressed like a male model. He was wearing a tailored powder blue dress shirt that countered the sheen of his blond hair perfectly, and suitpants that must have cost several hundred dollars.His sneakers were packed in a bag because the gleam off his black leather shoes flashed sunlight into Pryn's eyes.

"The transformation is complete," Oksana said.

"Yep. He's become his father." Pryn nodded. "Dressed to travel like he's going to fuck every flight attendant between here and there."

"Hush with your sass," Oksana said. Then she smiled a crooked smile that reaffirmed that Pryn's assessment was spot-on.

Oksana and Pryn went and stood next to the door from the garage like properly kept women. They heard the garage opener rumble after Nick used the keypad. They waited, shoulder-to-shoulder, like dogs for their master to push through the back door. If Oksana had a tail, it would have been wagging furiously.

"Nicolai, My Prince!" The women said it in unison as the door kissed open. Oksana hugged Nick with one hand and took a bag with the other. Pryn unburdened him of the garment bag and his second carry-on.

Nick smiled warmly. "Hello, ladies! How are my bitches?"

"Fine, Sir," Pryn forced a smile. It still bothered her when Nick called her his bitch.

Oksana's kisses migrated from Nick's cheeks to his lips. Her free hand dropped down to cockcheck Nick's pants.

"Easy, not right now," Nick chuckled. "My balls are dry as a mummy's. I won't be able to fuck for a week. My other sisters wore me out."

Oksana pulled her lips into a thin smile. "How is your father?"

Nick didn't blink. "Something with a lot of protein for dinner, okay Mom? I've got to get my strength back up. Football practice on Monday."

"Of course, My Prince."

Nick was up the stairs in moments. Pryn and Oksana looked at one another, still holding Nick's bags. No one had to say it was their job to unpack Nick's things.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 28, 2005

Pryn slept late. Or it seemed late for her. She was used to waking at 4 a.m., showering and running out the door so she could bike to her job at the bakery in the dark early hours. She was a blinking zombie the first time she shuffled through the living room on her way to pour some orange juice.

She looked at the clock on the range microwave.

"Eight thirty," Pryn grumbled. "Jeez. I slept too late. I should catch a run before the day gets hot."

As she turned to walk back through the living room she noticed how fixed Oksana and Nicolai were on the television. Pryn leaned against the pantry door and focused on the man on the television. He was standing in deserted city streets wearing a rain slicker. The camera kept panning to show beach houses being pelted by horizontal rain.

"What's going on?" Pryn asked.

"Hurricane is head-on about to impact with New Orleans," Nick mumbled without looking up. "Shush, I can't hear the television." More like his father with every passing day.

"I thought the hurricane already hit Florida."

"I did," Nick said. "Then it skipped and just kept going."

"Oh," Pryn said. Then it dawned on her why her brother and mother had their eyes glued to CNN. "Is that where Dad lives now? One of those houses?"

"Not there," Nick said. "He's inland near the Lake."

"Lake?"

"Ponchartrain."

"Oh," Pryn repeated. "So that's good, right? He's safe?"

"He'll be fine," Nick said. "Katty and the girls will be fine."

Pryn thought she saw her mother suppress an evil smile. Oksana turned her head to lock eyes with Pryn. Oksana winked. Her lips flexed as her mouth shaped a word.

Pryn knew the word. "Whammy."

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2005

Saturday had been no different than the previous week. Oksana and Nick spent the entire day watching developments of the big hurricane on television. Pryn had worked at the bakery in the morning and audited the developments on the news every few hours after she returned home.

She had neglected her required summer reading for the Modern Novel class that would start when school resumed next week. She spent most of her Saturday sitting sideways in one piece of furniture or another, flipping back and forth through the pages of Catch-22 and trying to make sense of it.

She was sideways in the leather Bark-o-Lounger late in the evening when she looked up and saw Nick eying her. He was staring at her feet in short socks, pointed elegantly in Pryn's subconscious projection of female perfection.

Pryn looked at Nick and Nick looked at Pryn. Nick had "that look" in his eyes. He had gone sexless all week as he obsessed over hurricane news. Nick stood and turned off the TV with the remote and stretched. He offered a small lift of his chin. Pryn jumped up and headed toward the stairs, dropping her book in the dent she left in the empty chair.

"Socks on?" Pryn asked on her way up the stairs.

"Socks on," Nick confirmed.

Pryn was peeling her clothes off before she made the landing. She was nude and on her knees next to the bed when Nick made it back from the bathroom. Pryn tugged his pants open and off. He stepped out. Pryn nuzzled her kisses up against the under crease between Nick's thick cock and balls. The warmth of his dick pressed heavy on her cheek. It seemed like forever since she'd served her brother. His cock seemed two inches longer and five pounds heavier on her face.

"You've been distracted," Pryn whispered in a sexy voice.

"I'm worried about the girls," Nick said.

"Daddy will take care of them," Pryn said. "You've got your own girls right here to worry about."

"Uh huh," Nick said with cynicism. His cock went firm and erect, lifting up off Pryn's cheek. He grabbed Pryn's hair with one hand and the base of his cock with the other. He pushed back and forced Pryn's chin upward. He snapped cock swats -- hard and loud -- on each of Pryn's cheeks with the sticky top half of his penis. It was his signature act of dominance. It didn't hurt much. Less than a hard slap, that's for sure.

Pryn took it. She looked up at Nick with her tongue lasciviously lashing between her lips and waited for him to nod. He did. Pryn pushed her pucker over the crown of Nick's cock and kept pushing until the thickness filled her throat. Nick's hand slid over the back of Pryn's head to control it while he thrust his steel even deeper.

There was no doubt. Nick's cock had gotten bigger. Pryn wasn't that much out of practice. Nick's meat had outpaced Pryn's deepthroat skills. She gagged and tensed. Nick kept drilling her esophagus with his strength and power.

Pryn found the inner strength to keep taking it until the pressure abated when he let his hand slip from her head.

Pryn pulled off, panted, and tried to think of something to say that would keep her brother from lancing her throat again until she caught her breath. "Jeez, you're packing some cock these days, brother."

"Mmmm," Nick groaned dismissively. "I'm horny and you've had too much time off. That's on me. You need more attention."

"I do," Pryn cooed. "You were giving all that come to your other sisters."

Nick smiled. "Those bitches were something else."

Pryn slurped shaft. She popped off a bobbing suck and lolled the flat of her tongue against the front of Nick's pecker in slow, wet, upsweeps.

"You see the little one?" Pryn asked.

"Who? You mean Belle?" Nick's hips were thrusting involuntarily. Pryn knew that meant she was in for short work. Nick was going to come any minute. "Of course I saw her. She's not so little. She just turned fourteen. I saw her. I fucked her in every way possible. Or maybe I should say she fucked me in every way possible. That bitch is an animal. She's hotter to fuck than Mom. She wants it all the time. And by 'all the time' I mean... Lick my balls, Pryn. You're sucking too fast. What was I saying? Oh, Belle. The entire time I was down there, there wasn't a single day I wasn't balls deep in Belle or pulling her peckerwasher off of my choad. I had to sleep on my stomach or she'd wake me up slurping my cock."

Pryn breathed warm over Nick's testicles until he shivered. "You mess around with Dad's other wife?"

"How do I have to say this," Nick grumbled. "I fucked them all. Alone and in every combination. Katty. Eula. Belle. Ressa is a sweet piece of ass. That girl can grind. Eulanna is okay. She's kind of stuck up. She reminds me of you. Like you with dark hair."

"Hey," Pryn bristled.

"Your tits might be bigger," Nick said. "If that makes you feel any less jealous. Eulanna doesn't have puffy nipples like you. Kat and all her girls have pale skin, dark hair, and really small nipples. Uhng, Pryn! That's nice. Like that, yeah. Anyway, Katty and the three girls all doubled me in every combination. Dad and I double teamed each of them at least twice. Most of the time they would just wait for us in a big naked pile on the bed or in the floor and Dad or I would wade into the middle of them and start working-- work--uh-- Ahshit, Pryn. I'm gonna to blow."

Seconds later Nick hissed and Pryn's tongue flooded with the hottest semen she had ever known in her mouth. And a lot of it. Six burning swallows later, Nick was still jetting thin ribbons onto her tongue and moaning.

Pryn popped off and fluttered her tongue against the top of the cockhead to get the last cloudy dribbles slithering from Nick's come hole.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Pryn lifted herself off her knees.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Nick asked.

"Uhm... You want me to sleep here with you tonight?"

"Bitch, I'm not done with you," Nick said in a sing-song tone of abused patience. "Get up on the bed. Doggy. Ass up. C'mon, shake it! Let's go."

Pryn no more mounted the bed before Nick was sliding a half-erect dick deep into her. She had not been fucked in a long time and she felt every semi-flacid inch of warmness pushing into her.

"Move your ass," Nick slapped Pryn's buttock and she began to roll her hips. Two minutes later Nick was rocking solid pipe again and a proper fucking began.

"That was a quick turnaround," Pryn huffed out between the grunting impact of Nick's hips against her round ass.

"I've got five bitches," Nick panted. "I can't be a one-and-done guy. Dad taught me that."

Pryn was impressed with Nick's cocksmanship but she didn't want to admit it. Her body began responding to being taken hard, gushing a river of pussy whet. Her breathing began to control her and the rippling sensations from Nick's balls slapping her clit (Daddy's clit) made her feel small and owned.

Pryn came first, crying out a siren mewl that went on and on.

Nick pumped come into his pussy a beat later with crashing thrusts that Pryn felt in the bones of her neck.

Pryn collapsed onto the bed. "Wow. You got another load in there, Stud?"

"Yes," Nick said, falling beside her.

Pryn thought he was kidding. Ten minutes later she was kneeling between his legs and playing with his balls while he furiously beat off a modest third load of manpaste onto his hard stomach. Nick panted and pointed. Pryn licked up the puddles and swallowed every drop.

She did not remember falling asleep.

She woke to something crashing in the kitchen. Nick must have been up for his run early. He was a discourteous dick who didn't care if he woke Oksana and Pryn. Then Pryn realized her brother's shin was resting on the back of her leg. The realization startled her. It had to be Oksana.

Right on cue, somewhere downstairs Oksana screamed.

Then, "CHAPPY!"

Pryn ran for the stairs naked. She flew through the living room and into the kitchen.

And there there were. The whole brunette lot of them. Their eyes were bloodshot and their jaws were slack with exhaustion. They looked every bit the refugees they were. Katrina's hair was mussed and flat on one side from where she had been sleeping against a car window.

Katrina was not what Pryn had envisioned. Her hair wasn't short by any rational measure, but it was short for how Daddy kept his women, barely long enough to rest on her shoulders. Katrina looked younger than her years, like Oksana, but she didn't have Oksana's exaggerated Belarusian lips or high cheekbones.

Oksana climbed Chapman like a tree, kissing his face in a barrage of squacky lips. She seemed oblivious to the other travelers.

The little one who had to be Belle spoke in a creaky little Cajun frog voice. Pryn thought the girl must have somehow shouted herself hoarse. "I call Nicky's bed," she croaked, half yawning.

"No way, whore," said one of her sisters. Pryn wasn't entirely sure but she guessed it was the older of the two: Ressa. "You get the girl. I call senior privilege on Nicolai."

Katrina raised her palms. "Girls, I don't have two fucks-worth of patience for this shit now. Seriously. Ress, you sleep with Oksana and your Daddy. Belle, you and I will find Prince Nicolai. Where is he? Upstairs?"

Pryn nodded.

"Eula," Katrina made small sweeping motions with the back of her fingers, "bunk with Prinadlez. That will get us through the night."

Chapman pulled Oksana off him with a tug and lowered her to the floor. "Katty, you're with me and Ox."

Katrina smiled a sad smile and walked over to kiss Chapman with a plain-and-simple goodnight kiss. "Baby, tonight it's her bed. I shouldn't be in it. Tomorrow, we can start to make it our bed. Right now I need a mattress like a magnet needs a refrigerator door. Let's work this out tomorrow. Okay? Good."

Katrina leaned over and kissed Oksana on the mouth. "Good to see you, too, Red."

Pryn's ears again stripped the tone of Katrina's words for context. She didn't use the stilted Russian construct of Oksana's grammar. She had no accent besides a twinge of Southern Creole. Pryn had always assumed that her father's other wife would have been another Russian bride that he smuggled into the country on a private oil company charter flight. To the contrary, Katrina seemed quite American.

"Where is your room, sister?" Eula asked Pryn.

Pryn realized they were all carrying black trash bags, not luggage. She lifted Eula's bag over her shoulder and it nearly toppled her with unexpected weight.

"Follow me," Pryn said.

Eula stripped naked and crawled between Pryn's sheets and died.

Pryn flipped the light off. In the dark she pulled on pajamas that had been draped over her desk chair. Once under the sheets, Eula woke, inched over and put her arm around Pryn's waist and snuggled like they were old friends. But they were strangers and the gesture felt odd to Pryn. It had been odd that Eula chose to come to a stranger's bed naked. Indeed, as Nick had alluded, Eula's breasts were a cup size smaller than Pryn's, she had noted before turning out the light. More rounded and "normal." Less conical. Her skin was flawless except for a few tiny moles on her hip and thigh that looked as if she had been careless with a Sharpie. Her pubic hair was gone and her mons looked as smooth and glossy as a six-year-old's. In all other respects, she was a brunette Pryn with less muscular legs.

"Did you put on clothes before you came to bed?" Eula whispered.

"Pajamas," muttered Pryn.

"Why'd you put on clothes?"

"I dunno. Why'd you strip naked?"

"Daddy lets you wear stuff to bed? Isn't that forbidden?"

Pryn was stunned. "Maybe there are different rules for each house."

"That's weird," Eula whispered. "More than weird. It's kind of rude. I can't sleep next to somebody wearing clothes. You feel weird."

"Weird?"

"Take 'em off," Eula pleaded. "Please? I've got to sleep and I can't sleep when you're dressed for a formal dinner and I'm bare-for-bed." Eula said it as one word: "Bareferbed." Like it was a thing. Like it was family argot Pryn was supposed to understand.

"Er, okay," Pryn said. She shucked her top and bottoms and slid them out of the side of the sheets like a CIA agent making a message drop.

Eula's fingers found Pryn's bare stomach. They reached up to squeeze her melons. They dipped down between her legs. "Nick let's you keep bush? Really? The fuck?"

Pryn took a breath and tried to say something. Daddy had different rules for both houses? Really? Pryn would have LOVED to shave her beaver bare so the tuft didn't make a lump in her gymnastics unitard, but she wasn't allowed to shave bare. Oksana yes, Pryn no.

"I really don't--" Pryn started. She heard the tide of Eulanne's breaths wash out to a sleepy sea. Pryn pinched off her words. It was amazingly peculiar to be held in the dark by a familiar stranger; Someone other than Nicolai; A warmth that molded perfectly to the S shape of her sleeping on her side.

Pryn tried to smell Eula but all she could smell was Nick's sweat on her from earlier.

Pryn had never been on a boat in her life, but she dreamt of kneeling on the bow pulpit of a sailing yacht as it cut through shallow Caribbean waters, bouncing under her. She rode the immense power of the waves, like a proper fucking.

She woke to Eula gently wiping the hair from her forehead with a fingertip pressure bordering on a tickle. Eula was on her elbow looking at Pryn in the morning light.

"Sorry," said Eula. "You were pretty deep there, but I think we should get on the day."

"Whah time szit?" Pryn tried to adjust from Dreamworld to Refugeeworld and remembering that she had a naked guest in her bed.

"Doesn't matter," Eula said. "They're already at it."

"Whah?" Pryn gurgled. Then she heard it. Belle's croaky little muppet voice was encouraging Nick to "Lick lick lick lick that pussy, brother" from the room next door.

"Oh," said Pryn. "Are we supposed to get in line or something?"

"Daddy and Nicolai probably have their hands full," said Eula. "More than two at a time is bullshit anyway. The third girl is just eye porn. I was thinking we should get dressed and go get some groceries to feed the masses. We haven't had a good meal in six days and they're all going to be fucked-out and famished when they finally roll out of the sack."

Pryn stretched. "Mmokay." She kicked the sheets off her and Eula.

"Hey, Prinadlez, I wanted to ask you," Eula said, rubbing her fingertips over Pryn's thighs. "What's with the muscles? You've got legs like a thoroughbred mare."

"I know, it's gross," Pryn said. "It comes with gymnastics."

"You're into gymnastics? Like flips and vaults and shit?"

Pryn nodded. "I do it competitively."

"Wow!" said Eula. "It shows. That's really cool! I don't think your legs are gross. I think your hardbody is fucking awesome. Every other athlete girl I've ever seen who was a hardbody had no tits."

"Yeah," Pryn said, "I lost some boob to muscle. I wish I could loose a little more. Big boobs work against my balance."

"You lost tit? Really? Gawd! How big were they before? Ds?"

Pryn nodded. "Flirting with D, yeah."

"Wow. No wonder Nicky is fascinated with you. Okay, let's get dressed before my twat gets turned on and nobody is left to cook breakfast."

"Kay." Pryn stood while the words Eula had just said tried to find a place in her brain to park. Nick being fascinated by Pryn? That made no sense.

Pryn followed Eula down the hall to Nick's room. She smelled the waft of strong pussy before she made it to the door. Belle was straddling her girl slit over Nick's mouth, her knees wide into the pillows on each side of Nick's ears. She was arched backwards against her mother, who was grinding Nick's cock in a deep cowgirl fuck. Katrina's fingers were rolling Belle's pert small reddish nipples like radio dials while she nuzzled Belle's ear.

"Morning, Mamma." Eula kissed her mother on the lips. "Morning sister." She kissed Belle, who looked annoyed at being distracted from her pussy grind against Nick's tongue. "Where are the car keys to the Explorer?"

"My purse is on the floor next to the desk there," Katrina said, returning to her cock grind.

"I see it. Thanks."

Belle looked at Pryn. "Are you going to kiss me or not?" she said.

Pryn blinked.

"Prynny, Darling," Katrina said, "we kiss each other good morning and good night every day. It's what families should do."

Pryn took steps toward the bed. Katrina kissed her first. Her kiss was thick with the taste of Nick's sperm. He was on his second erection already, obviously. Belle hooked Pryn's neck with her hand and pulled her into a lip lock. Belle's tiny tongue darted in and out of Pryn's.

"One for the Prince," Belle said. She pushed up on her knees and lifted her pussy away from smothering Nick's mouth for a moment. She pushed her free index finger onto the cleft in Nick's chin to illustrate a point, and with her other hand she pulled Pryn's head toward Nick.

Nick's hands were hooked around Belle's thighs but he saw Pryn's puckered lips lowering toward him and he smiled a guy smile. "Hey, Pryn. Kiss."

Pryn submitted and kissed Nick. Nick arched his neck to inhale Pryn into the kiss and wrestle his tongue against hers. Nick's taste was thick with the earthy, metallic glisten of Belle's pussy juice. Pryn had tasted her mother's pussy on Nick's cock before, but it wasn't as heavy and acidic as the sticky-slick Belle pasted on Nick. As a young girl, when Oksana took Pryn to the municipal swimming pool, Oksana would coat her nose in zinc oxide to keep her fair skin from frying. Once Oks accidentally swiped her thumb coated with zinc into Pryn's mouth as mother attempted to wipe away Pryn's wet hair that was tangled in Pryn's lips. Not only did it taste awful, but the taste stayed in Pryn's mouth for days. She couldn't rinse it out.

Belle's pussy tasted like zinc oxide and beef broth. Pryn thought it simultaneously disgusting and interesting in an intimate, animal way.

"That's enough, whore," Belle said, pulling Pryn back by the hair and grinding her slit into Nick's lips again.

"Back in a bit, Mamma," Eula said. "We're going for grub."

"Get cash from Daddy," Katrina said, bouncing harder against Nick's groin.

"You drive?" Pryn asked when they were working their way back down the hall toward the stairs.

"Sure. Don't you?"

Pryn shook her head.

"Why not?"

"I dunno. Nick never said I could."

"Did you ask him?"

Pryn thought about this. "No."

"Well I asked Daddy and he taught me."

Eula didn't knock on the Master Bedroom door. She opened it to reveal Ressa and Oksana both doggy on the bed, side-by-side with Oksana's little foot hooked over the back of Ressa's heel. Both were wearing collars connected by a short length of chain that was so tight it did not sag in the middle. Chapman stood in the floor behind them with one huge hand cupping Ressa's left ass cheek and the other on Oksana's right ass cheek. He was pounding Ressa hard and she vocalized every impact of Chapman's balls spanking her clit. Chapman was so large a man in comparison to the two women he had on all fours, he pulled out of Ressa and didn't even have to step to bury his cock into Oksana, who assumed the barking grunts of a woman being taken deep and hard.

All Pryn could really see was her father's wide shoulders and stone-chiseled ass thrusting away. He was so thick that his hips blocked Pryn's sightline to the pussy of the woman he wasn't fucking.

"Daddy please!" cooed Ressa. Daddy switched his pounding back to her.

"Oh Daddy, this pussy! This pussy please!" moaned Oksana. Daddy shifted his stabs into her.

"Daddy, I'm so close," pleaded Ressa. "Me me me." Ressa's hair was the longest of the five females and black as a nightmare. She snapped her chin from side-to-side, making Oksana's head jerk at the other end of the chain. A stiff curtain of onyx hair sawed across Chapman's wide chest.

Eula was oblivious. "Daddy, I need money for food."

Chapman's head turned but his hips didn't lose a thrust. Pryn saw his eyes were thin and his face was slicked with perspiration. "Wallet is on the nightstand. Take two hundred. Get enough for lunch, too."

"Kaythanks," Eula said.

Pryn couldn't take her eyes off how masterfully her father was in control of two women at once. He seemed to be pushing them together with his massive strength, mashing them into one woman.

"You want anything particular for breakfast, Daddy?" Eula asked before leaving.

"Protein," Chapman said over his shoulder between grunts. "Not too much processed flour shit. No donuts for Belle."

"I know," Eula started to leave.

"And I need razors. Gillette Fusions. Orange pack."

Eula rolled her eyes. "I know what kind of razors you use, Daddy. Jeez. I've shaved you a hundred times with them."

"And some deodorant."

"Okay. Mennen Sport or Clean?"

Chapman never missed a beat, pounding Oksana mercilessly deep, her head beginning to bob involuntarily. "What's ever on sale."

"Kay."

Pryn watched her father pull out, take a step backward, and diddle both clits with the upturned ring fingers of both hands at the same time. Ressa and Oksana's upturned asses quivered and their necks thrashed. Both began high pitched orgasms at the same time.

"That's my bitches," Chapman growled. "Come for your man, bitches."

Pryn hadn't heard Daddy's deep, commanding sex voice in a long, long time. Her own pussy involuntarily began to itch with wet need.

"You coming or not?" Eula pulled Pryn from the room by her elbow. "You act like you've never seen Daddy fuck before."

Pryn pushed the shopping cart, leaning on it in way that suggested it was earlier than she cared to be shopping. Eula was wearing jeans and flip flops. Again, this confused Pryn. Nick wasn't a stickler about Pryn only wearing skirts. But thong shoes and flip flops were absolutely verboten in Daddyland. Daddy said girl feet were either bare, shod sexy, or in half-socks. He despised flip flops on women. He said flip flops gave women "monkey toes."

"Yeah, it was the worst thing ever," Eula continued. "And by 'worst thing ever' I mean it was literally the worst thing I ever experienced. Ressa broke two of my ribs in a bicycle accident when I was little. That was my previous 'worst thing.' I'd rather have my ribs broken every week for ten years than watch that water come over our gutters and wonder how long we had before we were swept into the big brown ocean."

"Wow," Pryn said. "I can't imagine. How long were you up on the roof?"

"Two days. Well, if you want to get technical it was like twenty hours. About. We were out of drinking water by that time. You don't realize how much you love water until you've gone ten hours with out it in the sun. Your mouth turns to glue. Anyhow. That was the start of it."

"I'm kind of surprised Daddy flipped out like that." Pryn said.

Eula nodded. "Well, those guys in the rescue boat were looking at us girls weird and acting creepy. When they said the part about taking Ressa and Belle and me first and coming back for Mom and Dad, that didn't sit well with Chapman Reynolds. Yaknow?"

"I can imagine."

"He pulled that first guy out of the boat like he was made of straw." Eula pantomimed Chapman punching. "Wham, wham, wham! The second guy..." Eula tossed two packages of sausage links in the cart.

"The one with the gun?" Pryn asked.

"Yeah, the black guy. Daddy's hand dropped down over the gun and you could hear the black guy's wrist bones snap. He never fired a shot. Daddy fucked him up pretty bad."

"I'm guessing you are sugar coating that," Pryn said. "I know Daddy."

Eula grimaced and shrugged. "I don't know for sure that Daddy killed him. He wasn't moving when we took the boat and started for the relief station at Metairie. He was laying kind of crumpled on the roof. I couldn't see if he was breathing or not."

"Don't fuck with Daddy," Pryn sighed.

"Nope. Do you not have Nutella in Kentucky? I can't find it."

"I think it's with the breakfast foods. Not the peanut butter aisle."

"Why? Oh, never mind. Things are different here, right?"

"They sure are," Pryn mumbled.

Eula leaned against the loading-end of the checkout stand and waited for an old woman to balance her checkbook before she'd move out of the way.

"So Daddy..." Eula said softly while absently flipping through an Us Weekly, "it's been a while since you've seen him, right?"

"You know it has," Pryn said, bristling.

"Where Daddy is concerned, I never know. We don't know if when he says he's going to an assignment if he's stopping to fuck you and Oksana on the way there or back. Daddy does what Daddy wants. Mom says he stopped coming back to Oksana, but Mom doesn't know Daddy as well as she thinks she does."

"What's your point?"

"Daddy..." Eula measured her words. "I don't know how exactly to say this. Daddy is different."

"Different how?"

"I mean, he was obviously different when he came back from your place a couple years ago. Something had happened. His eyes were different."

Pryn wasn't sure what she should say. She shrugged.

"But then..." Eula continued, "he kept getting more different. More distant. More sad. More... Oh what's the word? Pensive? Reflective? He's definitely turned more gentle with us. I can't remember the last time any of us took a serious punishment from him." The conveyor belt began to hum and Eula remembered that she was having a highly-inappropriate public conversation and lowered her voice. "And lemmetellya, Li'l Belle definitely needs an ass beating or ten. She's a little monster."

Eula was quiet for most of the drive back to the house. Half way home she stopped the car on a side street and rolled the window down.

"What are you doing?" asked Pryn.

Eula reached in her shirt and pulled out half a pack of Virginia Slims from her brassiere. "I'm assuming these are your mom's and not yours? No? Didn't think so. You don't get a hardbody like yours while smoking. I haven't burned one in almost a week. I'm dying. I'm trusting that you aren't going to sell me out to Daddy, Pryn. He may not have beat my ass in a long time, but this just might get the man back in the swing of things. Health nut that he is, yaknow?"

Pryn nodded. "I won't say anything."

The cigarette lighter on the Explorer popped and Eula quickly touched it to the cigarette tipping from her mouth. "Oh shit, that's good. Even if it's fucking menthol, it's good." Eula dragged deep and exhaled out the window from the side of her mouth.

"One more of these and I'll be human again, I swear," Eula said to the headliner. "So... On behalf of all your unlucky sisters, I've got to ask. How fucking awesome is it to live full time with Nicolai?"

"What?" Pryn asked.

Eula smirked. "Oh don't play coy, bitch. You know what a lucky slut you are to have Nick to yourself full time, like every day? Don't tell me you ever get tired of it. He's a really good fuck. I mean, with Daddy, it's like SUPER good with that telephone pole cock of his and the way he can go for hours and hours. Hell, Daddy has sprung all four of us girls on the same hardon before, one-to-the-next-to-the-next. But like I said, Daddyfucks were scarce as hen's teeth before he started changing like I told you. If I wanted Daddy's sex attention, I'd inevitably have to pry Belle off his dick with a crowbar just to get at it for twenty minutes. Then he started brushing off the little monster, too. For six months before Nick finally showed up I'm not sure Dad was even fucking mom. Then when Prince Nicolai arrived, it was like Daddy was making up for it all at once. While Nick was with us I caught dick once or twice a day. But you... You've got Nick all the time. We all hate you for that, just so you know."

Pryn blinked it in. "Er... You've got Daddy."

Eula rolled her eyes. "We've got four girls and one Daddy. When he's not on assignment. And when he's not... You know. Whatever he is lately. 'Not present.' You've got Nicky. Full time. Plus Daddy when he was home. For only two of you. Twice the men and half the girls. And I know Nicky can bust his nut four times a day, so don't play that card."

Pryn thought about how to answer and opted for the truth. "Nick's got a lot of girlfriends. I mean a LOT of girlfriends. And when he's not sexing them, he's more into mom than me. And... Not sure how to say this. Nick's kind of a dick. He's selfish. I can count on one hand the number of times he's got me off."

"Oh bitch please!" Eula laughed. "Nice try! We still hate you."

"I'm serious."

Eula waved her hand. "Okay, okay. That's your play, Hardbody, I get it." She lit a second cigarette off the first and flipped the burnt filter stub out the window. "Last one, I swear."

Eula hissed out a French exhale. "I will admit that I'm actually surprised that Nick is open about fucking girls outside the family. I didn't think Daddy would allow that."

"He's a busy boy," Pryn said.

"What about you?" Eula asked.

Pryn did not understand.

"You got a real boyfriend?" Eula continued. "Some regular, non-crazy, non-cult, non-incest sweetie on the side?"

Pryn emphatically shook her head no.

"Oh come on," Eula said. "You can tell me. I won't snitch." Eula lifted her cigarette to illustrate how easy it would be to get her in trouble.

"Nope," Pryn said. "Do you?"

Eula looked at Pryn suspiciously. "Does it die in this car? You swear?"

Pryn nodded.

"We've all gone outside the family at least once," Eula said. "I had a girlfriend for a while, too. That was easier to sneak by Daddy, but I think he started to catch on so I ended it. Yeah, we've all taken a cock or three outside Daddy's circle. Mom too."

"You're kidding!"

"Easy, Pryn! Jesus. You're scaring me. You swore you'd keep it between us."

"Katrina cheated on Daddy? Really? Wow."

"Oh, like Oksana hasn't gone crazy lonely and taken up with a guy once or twice."

Pryn flinched. "No. I'm pretty sure she hasn't." Then she thought about what he mother had said the night she looked out the window and saw Verhagen's lights on.

"I find that rather hard to believe." Eula flicked ash. "You get a girl addicted to good sex and then you stop cold turkey? Nah. Oksana caught a dick or two on the side."

"Mom is crazy-devoted to Dad. More than I am, if the truth be told. I can't imagine her fucking around. Unless you count Nick."

"I don't count Nick," said Eula. "Nick is Daddy. Daddy is Nick."

"I guess it's different with us kids than with the wives," Pryn said. "I mean, we're kind of captives to the weirdness of our family. But marriage is different."

Eula looked sideways at Pryn again. "Wive-zz? Plural?"

Pryn blinked.

Eula rolled her eyes. "Oh shit. You have no idea, do you?"

"About?"

"You think Chappy is married to your mom?"

"Of course."

"Okay," Eula threw the other cigarette out the window and waved the smoke away with her hand. "Caligula will be starving. Let's roll."

"Wait!" Pryn pulled Eula's elbow before she could put the SUV in gear. "What about my mom?"

"This is too big for me," Eula said. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to be a cunt. I know it just came off like that, but I really thought you knew, Pryn."

"Knew what?"

Eula took a deep breath. "Pryn, does Oksana have a bank account?"

"Er, not one of her own."

"Does she own anything of value? A car? No, that's in Daddy's name. A house? No, that's in Daddy's name. Has she ever had a job as long as you've know her?"

"No. Daddy won't let her."

"It's not about what Daddy wants," Eula said. "Have you ever seen a copy of your own birth certificate?"

Pryn thought about this. "No. I guess not."

"That's because birth certificates require a social security number. Bank accounts require a social security number. Loans require a social security number. Marriage licenses require a social security number. Being an American requires a social security number. Your mother isn't a citizen. Technically, the government still don't even know she's here in the States. She doesn't exist."

"Mom has a driver's license."

"You don't need a social security number for that." Eula brushed ash off the shelf of her breasts.

"Whose name is on my birth certificate?"

"My mom's."

"Bullshit!"

"Now... I told you... Don't get mad at the messenger."

"Katrina is not my mom!"

Eula slapped her forehead. "I thought you were supposed to be smart. I didn't say my mom is your real mother. Of course not. But my mother is a naturalized American and my mother has a social security number and my mother is like, as far as the U.S. Feds are concerned, your real mom. All the times Dad has claimed you and Nick on his taxes... All those forms say Katrina Reynolds is your mom."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not blowing your mom shit or talking her down or anything. I only met her one time when Belle got collared and that was for all of two hours. She was back on a plane almost as soon as she landed in N' Orleans. But as far as 'devoted wife' goes, I'm not sure where 'devoted' becomes 'desperate.' If Daddy stopped sending her money, she'd be fucked. If Daddy cut her off, she'd be totally fucked. She wouldn't be able to get a job. She'd either have to be a hooker or get shipped back to Russia if anybody found her out. That's more of an explanation why she's devoted to dad than love."

"You're wrong," Pryn said tersely. "She loves him more than any woman has ever loved a man. She burns for him!"

"Okay. Okay! Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm just saying." Eula put the Explorer in gear and pulled away from the curb after checking her mirrors.

052214: DAWSON,P. F: #1661

EXHIBIT C11. TRANSCRIPTION CODEX SOM7

Letter postmark 05 18 14.

Hey, Doc.

So I'm still in slut timeout, huh? I called the office a couple times but I could tell REDACTED wasn't putting me through on your orders. You should really tell REDACTED those cat glasses aren't nearly as hipster as she thinks they are. I suppose I understand why you are not ready to let me come back for office visits. I know you're still thinking about me when you're with your family.

Anyhow, I've enclosed another journal like you asked. It's kind of scary how fast I can fill them up once I sit down to write. I've had more free time lately. Joanie is out four nights a week with her mystery man Charles and when she's home she is not talking to her fucked-up roommate. I supposed it is the beginning of the end. She's going to marry this guy and I'm not going to be invited to the wedding. Some people can carry a grudge, right?

(Hint.)

Marcus at the club hardly even talks to me any more. That's not a grudge. I think my slut show with the celebrity guest weirded him out. He's not screwing with me or treating me bad, though. It's as if he is afraid of me now. There was another bartender at Capprizino's we never talked about who I had a thing for. He barely talks to me now. When you are "that kind of girl" word sure gets around fast. Maybe it's time to move on, to another roommate and another job. I've had a couple of offers from a whale customer at Capprizino's to mind a stick at a his new place in Chelsea. But Capprizino's still has legs and a lot of those smaller trendy bars come-and-go so fast.

Big talk. As you know, I tend to stay in bad environments too long.

Whatever. I continue to survive. Survival = thriving for me. I continue to make my way in a city that doesn't care to know me.

I admit that I'm getting lonely. (Hint.) Those thoughts we talked about, you remember? Thinking that maybe I should just go back to my family where I belong? Take my punishment and just end my days in the Cult of Daddy? If it weren't for how much I hate Nick, I'd probably already be there. Back on The Farm.

Oh wait. That probably doesn't make sense to you: The Farm. That part is in the enclosed journal that you probably haven't read yet. The Baby Farm. The Fuck Farm. Or perhaps, The Fucking Farm that Ended Everything Good. Yeah, I'm still bitter.

I skipped ahead to The Farm because I don't know what to say about the time between when Katrina and her girls arrived and the time Daddy got his insurance check for the house in New Orleans. Our little Kentucky home was bursting at the seams with estrogen and testosterone. We girls fucked and sucked Daddy and Nick in every possible combination, as you might imagine (when you are tucked into bed at night and the missus is snoring?)

Because Eula was bisexual I always wondered if Katrina and her girls were sexual with one another while they were alone for stretches without Daddy and before Nick. I don't think they were. No more than mom and me, which is to say that we were expected to be comfortable sexing the men together. We had to be comfortable with the taste of each other's pussy. And lemmetellya, Doc, before we made it to The Farm, I knew the taste of each of Daddy's women as surely as I could tell you the different flavors of jelly on a spoon I took while blindfolded. If Daddy or Nick put me to work on my knees, I could tell, "Oh. You've been in Ressa today. Oh, You fucked Mom this morning." Belle's cunt was so strong I didn't even have to taste it. I could smell it on the men as they passed me in the hall.

Eula and I were alone in bed together several more times before we moved to The Farm. She insisted on licking me out. She said I'd love it. I didn't like it the first time. Too weird and I needed the "guy power thing." The second time I was more relaxed and I orgasmed so hard and loud that Daddy and Nick joked about it at the breakfast table the next day. Humiliating. Eula's tongue talent could not be denied. She kept saying how Oksana and I tasted really different from her sisters. That was true. She said our pussies were a lot sweeter. I guess that's true too. When Eula moaned and got carried away licking me, I let myself get into it. She knew exactly where to put her fingers inside me with an understanding that men don't have.

After a while of being "Nick the selfish dick," I relented and learned to lap Eula's pussy. It wasn't bad. Eula loved it, and it was only fair. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in that crowded house. She was the only one who I perceived was not lying to me all the time. The connection of plugging mouth pleasure into a needy sex organ was nearly as rewarding when applied to a girl as it was when I had Daddy's hot jawbreaker sliding between my lips. Nearly. Sex with Daddy continued to bake my brain. When I masturbate, I'm usually thinking about one of the handful of times that it was Daddy and me alone. Or, yaknow... Other Daddy-figures that may or may not be in my life right now. (Hint.) I'm getting squirmy just typing this. TMI, right?

The truly crazy part is that all us girls got along. Mostly. Ressa was kind of stuck up and crazy little Belle was indescribably insatiable. Belle was like a magnet to Daddy or Nick's lap any time they were sitting down. No other way to say this: She was a miniature mancrazy whore, the likes of which I have not seen before or since. Whatever Daddy did to groom her for service, he hit it out of the park with little Belle. But by the time we found ourselves all in the same house, we girls knew our places. Or we thought we did.

The rules that governed Katrina's house became the rules for our house. Girls were naked-after-nine. We were bare-for-bed (always) unless we were menstruating. Once I asked Daddy if he wanted me to pour him a drink and Katrina and her girls laughed.

"Daddy doesn't drink alcohol!" Belle said.

The fuck??? Who was this man I thought I knew who could lead two completely different lives?

Nick collected all our Ortho-Novum clamshells and he became the one who picked up the prescriptions from Rite-Aid. Every night before dinner he was in charge of "communion." Each girl or woman (except mom) kneeled in front of him and either asked for "white" or "pink" if she was flowing. We stuck out our tongue and trusted Nick to put the right color on our tongue. (We couldn't see it.) Then we dry swallowed the pill.

Belle was such a little whore that Nick had to double check to make sure she had swallowed her birth control pill and wasn't hiding it under her tongue to spit out. She couldn't wait to be pregnant.

Sometimes we had "collar calls." If Daddy or Nick made a collar call we had 90 seconds to strip our clothes and run and kneel in the living room. Daddy and Nick walked by and laced the dog collars around everybody but Eula and me, the oddballs. This strange ceremony was a prelude to any official family meeting where important matters were told to us by Daddy and Nick. They sat in the wingback throne chairs at the far end of the room. We got a collar call when Daddy found an empty pack of cigarettes in the trash can. Eula copped to it, even though I'm pretty sure it was mom's. She got caned for it, but they went easy on her. You couldn't even see the stripes on her ass the next day when we went naked-after-nine. We got a collar call for girls leaving laundry in the dryer too long and not ironing Daddy's shirts correctly. We got an informational collar call when Daddy told us about moving. We had a collar call the time Mom and Belle got chippy with one another about who sat in the back seat of the car.

But like I said, we girls understood we had to get along. Or else.

We knew not to test Daddy, and when Daddy wasn't there it was Nick. Nick was looking for an excuse to rough one of us up from the day the girls arrived in Louisville. Katrina was slow to undress one night, still wearing a T-shirt a few minutes after nine while she was washing the makeup off her face in the upstairs sink while Belle was shitting up the Master Bath. For that minor infraction Nick hog tied her and caned her ass mercilessly until she bled through her welts while Daddy stood with his arms crossed and all the other girls watched from our knees. Then Nick made us all spit on her and he left her tied up in a stress position through the night. I wonder if that wasn't really Daddy's play, executed through Nick. At any rate, we got the message. Don't fuck with Daddy. Don't fuck with Nicolai. Keep the peace.

Mom adjusted to her new position as Daddy's Omega. It was obvious that Katrina was the Beta. She was Best Bitch. Mom was second in the pecking order. Even Nick seemed to turn his interests away from Oksana after the girls moved in. Katrina was a shiny new toy. She was certainly beautiful, clothed or not. Daddy said Katrina's mom was Andalusian and her father was Welsh. He said that made her genetically perfect and unicorn-level rare. Watching Mom and Katrina interact, I had to wonder if what Eula had told me in the car was true. Not the love part, but all the rest. I never would have believed Mom would have shared a peaceable bed with Dad's other woman, but she did. If they quarreled, I never saw it. More than anything, Mom wanted Dad back. That's what she got, even if it came at a steep price with four additional competitive pussies in the house.

Going back to school was awkward. I had a girl who was virtually the same age as me who was supposed to be my step sister. That raised some eyebrows. Belle was mouthy with her teachers and nearly got expelled from eighth grade. I caught Eula being flirty with Troy Walker and I nearly lost my shit. We worked that one out between us without it escalating to Daddy. Fortunately/ Unfortunately the awkwardness and the raised eyebrows didn't last long. Daddy got his insurance check for the New Orleans house in December. By that time he and Nick had fixed up the wear-and-tear neglect on the Louisville house. Remember this was before the market crash, so our Kentucky house sold in a matter of weeks after Daddy listed it.

Boom. That was all she wrote. I cried at the collar call when daddy told us my childhood home had sold and we were moving. Katrina and her girls cheered.

Lisa Wells phoned Daddy and begged him -- literally BEGGED him -- to allow me to live with one of the other gymnasts' families so I could stay on the LadyKat Juniors and pocket my college scholarship. She pleaded.

Daddy said he'd think about it. Then the son of a bitch left the decision up to that evil fucker Nick. And well. You can guess what happened next.

Or for that matter you don't have to imagine. That's where this journal starts.

P.

[END TRANSCRIPTION]

FEBRUARY, 2006

Belle's whining in the captive confines of the car had Pryn on edge before they crossed the border into Southern Indiana. If Belle didn't shut up, Pryn was going to lose it.

"Whhhhyyyyyyy?" Belle croaked. "Why do I have to have a tutor? Why can't I just take the GED like Eulanne and Prinadlez?"

Katrina's voice was controlled but terse. "We've discussed this. It's state law. You're too young to get a GED. We're going to have to have a Homeschool Specialist tutor you for a few years until you can test out."

"You couldn't pass the GED anyway," mumbled Ressa.

"Shut it," Nick growled. "All of you." He was driving on a learner's permit but he was already fully in charge of the Toyota's occupants.

"Besides," Katrina said. "Daddy is paying the tutor to work with Eulanne and Pryn, so you might as well try and get the most out of it."

"I don't want to go to school anymore," Belle whined. "I want to stay with Daddy and Nick and make babies for them."

"Can I switch cars?" Pryn mumbled. "At the next rest stop I'm riding with Daddy and Oks. Eula will trade with me."

"We're almost there," Nick answered. "Thank God."

Katrina was still trying to be a mom, feeding oxygen into the fire of Belle's annoying voice. "Nicolai is going to be at Bridgegate Academy, honey. He's not ready to be a dad just yet. He'll be spending his weekdays at his new all-male boarding school. I'm sure when he comes home for the weekend, he'll be all charged up and ready to give all his lucky girls ten loads of hot come." Katrina winked at Nick when he looked over and she absently patted his crotch with her elegant hand. "Who knows, maybe Prince Nicolai will make some cute friends who come home with him for the holidays and maybe those boys will be half the cocksman that our Prince is."

"You're not fucking anyone but Dad or me," Nick said.

"Oh sure. Not me, sir. But you know how sneaky your Belle can be when she's randy."

"When isn't Belle randy?" Pryn mumbled.

"Prinadlez, I swear to God, I fucking swear," Nick growled. "One more out of you and I'm pulling this car over!"

Belle tried to cover her mouth with her hand but snorted out a laughed before she could. Nick glared into the rear view mirror at her and she sheepishly shrugged. "That's exactly the way Daddy says it."

This set Katrina off. Pryn couldn't help chuckling too. Humor is an inappropriate outburst of truth, and Belle was absolutely right.

Nick fumed for a moment and then he softened and went with the levity. "Laugh it up, bitches. Laugh it up. This is the turnoff. Everybody hang on, this easement road is shit."

"ERF!" grunted Pryn as the Toyota's left wheels dropped into a dusty rut.

"Your father better slow down," Katrina said. "He doesn't know this old car can't drive these roads as fast as the SUV."

Nick shook his head. "That was the last turn. It's just down here. We can't get lost. Besides, I can barely see the road with the dust Dad's kicking up."

Pryn watched the one-lane dirt road narrow and then narrow some more until branches reached out and taunted the paint on the sides of the car. Nick pulled the car in a long, looping right jog that sent the boxes stacked on the seat between her and Belle toppling onto her lap.

Daddy had said their new home was in the country. but for the first time Pryn realized that "the country" didn't mean clusters of farmhouses and a quaint town square with a big clock in the middle of a roundabout lined with stores selling horse oats and foot-high pies. "The country" meant waaaay out where the hoot owls fuck the chickens.

"We have to be out beyond city water," Pryn said to herself. "Nick, does this place have running water? Nick?"

"We're here," Nick answered.

"Oh my god," Pryn whispered. The car cleared the treeline and into an open swath of rolling fields that dropped off into an enormous ice-capped lake in the distance. Beyond that, the purple shadows of modest mountains. Nick parked by the ruins of what had once been some kind of general store. Now it was charred wood on top of cinder blocks. The gas pumps out front were relatively modern. "Oh my god." Pryn repeated.

Doors opened and the occupants of the Toyota met with the trailblazers in the Explorer.

"It's beautiful!" Katrina sang.

"It is spectacular!" Oksana nodded.

"It's very... very..." Ressa stammered.

"What the blue balls on a red-assed monkeyfuck sundae is this?" Pryn growled. She closed her coat against the cold.

Daddy and Nick both snapped a warning glance at her in stereo.

Pryn counted two medium-sized rustic brown hunting cabins diagonal from the burned-out store. Then a line of ten more small cabins dotting the dead grass between the cars and the lake. The small cabins didn't look much bigger than her bedroom had been.

"Okay, listen up," Daddy called. "Obviously I'm in Cabin One right here and Nick is in Two. Cabin Two has the larger kitchen and a big meeting room, so we'll have our meals there and it will be our primary meeting place. Each one of you can either pick your own cabin from Three through Twelve. Or you can pair up and have half as much work getting a cabin cleaned up and keeping it clean. I don't give a shit if you live alone or in pairs. You don't need to file paperwork, feel free to move between cabins as you see fit. Let's face it, you're never going to be so far that it will be hard to find you. By this weekend we're going to have a bell or a loud chime set up for collar call. Obviously we're not on the 90 second rule while we're spread out here, but don't test us. What am I forgetting, Nick?"

"The septic."

"Right. Bitches, we are on septic tanks out here. You can't take seven showers a day or I'll be paying to suck out gray water every week. That shit is expensive, pun intended. I expect you to maintain proper hygiene at all times, but go easy on the flushing and the water. What else, Nick?"

"The well."

"Ah shit. Right. Uh, speaking of water, we don't have water just yet. The first order of business will be for me and Nick to get the cistern clear and the water flowing. Nick will run into town after we unpack and load up on cases of Dasani to tide you over."

Pryn couldn't stop herself from a bona fide facepalm.

"I think that's it," Chapman said.

"HVAC," Nick mumbled.

"Oh yeah," Chapman grimaced. "The cabins each have window units to heat and cool them. Not every one works. We'll get that fixed or replaced as time allows, but for the meantime, don't claim a cabin or bother unpacking until you test the window unit. Okay. That's it."

"The mice," Nick mumbled.

Chapman turned on him. "Will you shut the fuck up?" Chapman eyeballed his son with a homicidal glare before turning back and putting on a big smile. "Ladies, welcome home! Unpack me first, then Nick. Then you can claim your own space."

Pryn hated to cry.

She made it four days before she allowed herself to scream out her frustrations in the confines of her dusty cabin. The men were shingling one of the cabin roofs. Probably Ressa's, since that's the one they had been clearing with pitchforks the prior evening. Echoes of two hammers started, pounded three galloping one-two thumps, then stopped. Then again. The sound drowned out the cry of anguish from the last cabin near the lake. Or perhaps it was the rattling window HVAC unit that sounded like a low flying Cessna stalling out.

At least Pryn could now flush the toilet in her cabin bathroom and didn't have to dig a hole in the woods and squat in the freezing wind.

None of the women were very happy with their new homestead. The wide brush strokes of phalto green and dusty shale etching a small range of low mountains beyond the lake -- breathtaking on a clear day -- went unappreciated by the captives of Bullfoot Lake. The nearest town large enough to host a Walmart was thirty five minutes away. Only Oksana and Katrina had witnessed this marvel of civilization. The rest of the girls made shopping lists that were compiled into a Daddy/Nick-approved Master Lists prior to their departure. Pryn stood on the shore of the lake, leeward of a dilapidated dock that was barely visible below the waterline. She watched the surface of the lake make unexpected blurps and ripples.

Pryn heard steps closing behind her crunching the frozen grass. "Was that a fish?" Pryn asked.

"No clue," Eula answered. "Maybe a turtle or something. C'mon. We've got to get Daddy's shirts out of the dryer before communion."

"No hurry," Pryn said through pinched lips. "That piece of shit electric dryer takes forever."

"Uh huh," Eula said. "Just like the days here. Can I borrow another one of your books?"

"Sure. Just make sure they cycle back. I've got a feeling we are going to reread them a couple times."

"Sorry I blew you shit about how heavy your boxes of books were when we unpacked," Eula said. "I realize now those books are going to be more precious than gold. I'm actually looking forward to the tutor coming next week. It should break up the monotony and the quiet."

Chapman drove Nick to Bridgegate on the Monday of the third week. Both were gone when Jack pulled into the compound in a minivan that did not look roadworthy. It didn't sound roadworthy either, which was why all six women were standing outside to greet the sound as it cleared the trees and stopped next to Cabin One.

"Wow," Jack said to the line of women, "The GPS on my phone didn't know what to do. It said this road ended two miles back. I guess this place doesn't really exist, right?" He smiled. He meant it as a joke, but the joke hit too close to home with most of his audience. His glasses had fogged when he stepped from the warm car to the cold weather. He looked like a cartoon caricature of a young teacher.

"You are the tutor?" Oksana asked.

"Yeah. I'm Jack Lawrence." He turned toward the younger girls. "No need to call me Mister Anything. Jack is fine. I'd like to keep it informal."

"How old are you, Mr. Jack?" Belle asked.

Jack was taken aback by Belle's funny croak-voice. He tried to get control of his grin. "I'm twenty-seven. And I guess you are... Bellanca?"

"You're cute." Belle said it not as a flirtation, but bluntly. Almost an accusation.

"Er..." Jack looked to Oksana and Katrina for help. Finding none, he said, "Thanks, I guess."

"But your hair is too long," Belle continued.

Jack laughed because he didn't know what else to do.

Pryn did not think Jack's hair was too long. It was floppy and shaggy and dark the way she liked hair on men. It made her think of Troy Walker. Jack was almost as tall as Chapman, but very thin. Even though he was wearing a worn red North Face parka, Pryn could tell from Jack's wrists and legs that he was too thin to be considered even slender.

"Oksana and I have work to do," Katrina said. "Belle is in Cabin Five. Eulanne is in Cabin Six. And Prinadlez is in the last cabin by the lake. Cabin Twelve. I suppose you should meet in Eula's cabin, Pryn. The window unit is quieter there. Mr. Jack will not have to shout."

Pryn nodded.

"Er wait," said Jack. "It's probably best if we all meet in a central location. Maybe somewhere a little more public?"

Oksana shook her head. "No. You will meet in the cabins Katty has specified."

"I'm a little uncomfort-- Hey!"

Oksana kept walking toward her chores in Cabin Two and Katrina walked toward the cabin she and Oksana had chose to share, much to the surprise of all.

Eula lie with her back on the throw rug and her heels propped up on the edge of her mattress. "It was kind of good to see that Mr. Jack seemed as freaked-the-fuck-out as the rest of us about the arrangements here."

"I don't require the presence of another rational adult to know this is fucked up." Pryn paged through her new math workbook, looking for a page that didn't contain arithmetic basics she learned in fifth grade.

"I wonder if Belle got his dick out of his pants when they were alone." Eula scratched one of her armpits with long, lazy sweeps of her fingernails.

"Can you believe these workbooks?" Pryn asked. "Does he think we're morons?"

"I guess the GED isn't really that hard," Eula said. "We'll knock out all the tutorials in a long weekend."

"No we won't," Pryn said.

"We won't?"

"As soon as we do that, we take the test and we are done. We're done with Mr. Jack. We're done with school. We're on to 'what's next.' "

"And?"

"What's your hurry? Mr. Jack is the most interesting thing that's happened on The Farm in the past three weeks. I don't know about you, but I am a complete idiot. I don't know any of this stuff."

Eula half smiled. "Pryn is hot for teacher?"

Pryn shook her head. "Pryn is looking ahead. Daddy is systematic. He does things according to a plan. One thing. Then the next thing. The GED is a thing."

"Then what?" Eula asked.

"You tell me," Pryn answered. "Do we stay here for another two years and then go out on our own? Do we leave? Or do we stay here until we pull out our dentures before we suck Nick's wrinkled cock?"

Eula shrugged. "Would that be so bad?"

"He's my brother, Eu."

Eula shrugged. "So? He's my brother too. That doesn't mean he isn't deliriously cute. Doesn't mean that serving him as the 'next thing' would be such a bad way to go. Don't tell me you've never thought about staying kept like our moms?"

Pryn sighed. "I guess I thought about it, but more being kept by Daddy. I never considering being kept by Nicolai for the rest of my life."

"You want your own man," Eula said. "A real boyfriend husband thing."

"I want my own life," Pryn grumbled.

Eula nodded. "There's a name for that: Normal."

"I don't even remember what normal looks like," Pryn said.

"That's because when you're the only normal person, that makes you the crazy outlier."

"I should just get the keys to the Explorer out of Daddy's cabin and drive," Pryn said. "Get the fuck out of here and keep driving. Never come--"

"PRYN! SHUT UP!"

Pryn looked down at Eula. "What?"

"Shut the fuck up, Pryn! You can't say that stuff! Not in front of me."

Pryn blinked. "You said you'd never sell me out."

"That's not selling you out. That... That shit you're saying, that's heresy. If Daddy ever heard you say something like that and I didn't run and tell him? He'd fucking kill me deader than you. Don't put that shit on me!"

Pryn didn't know what to say. Eula was her confidante. If Eula freaked out at the mere concept of leaving Daddy's cult, then perhaps they weren't as much alike as Pryn had let herself believe.

"You're right," Pryn huffed. "I don't know what's got into me. I think I'm starting my period. Sorry. No more crazy talk."

"Hey Prynny?"

"What Eu?"

"That cologne Mr. Jack had on?"

"You're horny."

Eula smiled and unsnapped her pants. "Would you be a dear?"

"Sure," Pryn said. "Shuck 'em, spread 'em, and split that pink. I'll lick you."

"I'll do you next."

"Not necessary," Pryn said, pulling off her shirt. Eula loved to suck Pryn's tits before Pryn slid down and licked pussy.

After licking Eula's soft pink folds and feeling Eula's writhing heels kneed her upper back, Pryn got squirmy. The taste of pussy made Pryn horny too. Ever since Eula mentioned Mr. Jack's cologne Pryn couldn't stop smelling it. She itched to mount Daddy when he came home from dropping off Nick at Bridgegate Academy. She pushed Eula's panting, post orgasmic mouth at her breast and flipped on her back to receive Eula's expert cunnilingus.

For some reason, Nick did not come home after his first week at Bridgegate Academy. He stayed in his dorm. This made Chapman angry because there was so much to do on The Farm and he was leaving for an assignment in a few weeks.

Daddy wore a line in the grass with his wheelbarrow between the cabins and a rock-ringed midden he built downwind near the treeline. Along with the wives, he turned a shovel and nailed some railroad timbers together to create a four-staged compost pit within walking distance of the cabins.

Pryn watched Daddy pull the giant creosote square logs out of the back of the Explorer and hoist them onto his broad shoulders like Paul Bunyan, his biceps bulging, his chin set. Daddy was gathering gray at his temples, but he was still five times the man of some average man like Verhagen. The sweatline in his shirt at the back of his deltoids left Pryn a bit weak-in-the-knees.

The oddness of the way Pryn's life came to a sudden, screeching halt in the time it took to make one last pass through the old, empty house and load into the back of the car began to eat at Pryn's sanity. The Farm was quiet in the daylight hours. It was even quieter on a winter's night. Not even a bullfrog croak or a cricket chirp. The whole ordeal was like a camping excursion that had gone on too long. Pryn's thigh muscles ached to be challenged. Her palms longed to chalk up and feel the friction of the bars sanding away the calluses as she powered her hips into gravitational push energy. The soles of her feet screamed to know the satisfaction of slamming hard into the vault springboard one more time.

Instead she read. Instead she walked out and looked at the lake until boredom and cold turned her around and walked her back to her cabin.

One thing about Katrina and her girls: They were not lazy. When there were dishes to be washed or laundry to be done, there was no shirking. If Pryn was slow to pick up a drying towel as the dishes came out of the rinse water, there was another sibling or mother silently slipping into the groove and getting the job done.

Oksana and Katrina took over one of the empty cabins with a faulty air unit, filling it with starter plants and vegetables for a garden they were planning in the Spring. By the time Pryn noticed the Growing Cabin, the seeds were sprouting in rows of potting soil-packed plastic squares. Pryn looked through the window at the greenery and stepped inside to run her hands across the tops of the wispy greens. She angered. She angered because she realized planting a garden was completely unnecessary. The women were doing it TO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO. A project. A purpose.

Mostly Pryn was angry that she hadn't thought of it first.

Pryn pulled on her sweats and running shoes and ran the perimeter square of the property that was cleared. Chapman said their land went twenty-nine acres into the woods on the north side of the lake. He said somewhere back in the woods there was supposed to be either a wire fence or orange stakes in the dirt marking the property line, but the woods were so dense he had never walked all the way there.

Pryn added anchor pruning shears to the Walmart shopping list and somehow they showed up. Pryn's personal project became clearing a walking trail through the woods, snipping low limbs and upstart thorned weeds into a path. It was hard work and she made what seemed like precious little progress on any given day.

Still it was something to do where there was nothing to do. She pretended she was tunneling out of a prison. She fantasized there was an Olympic gymnastics academy on the next farm and one day she'd cut though the last branch to find two dozen girls tumbling across outdoor mats and finally she would be whole again.

Nick was expected home on his second Friday night away. Katrina sent Pryn into Nick's cabin to strip the sheets off his bed, even though Nick had not been home since the last time they were washed.

"Yes," Katrina smiled at Pryn. "But how can the sheets smell freshly-washed for Prince Nicolai if they are not freshly-washed, right?"

"Sure," Pryn mumbled.

"Thank you, Dear."

Pryn let herself into Nick's unlocked cabin. Daddy's cabin was the only one kept locked. Nick's cabin doubled as the mess hall. It had the big anteroom they used for family meetings and collar calls. It had the hook ups for the washer and dryer, too. Pryn yanked the bedspread off Nick's bed and pulled the sheet and the topsheet. As she was leaning over to dump the pillow cases, her foot caught on something under the bed. She looked down to see she'd kicked the lid off a box. With a wad of bed linen in one arm, she squatted to put the lid back on the box. That's when she saw the box was filled with Polaroid photos and the Instamatic camera that Dolores had gifted her on her Sweet Sixteen.

"So that's where it went," Pryn mumbled.

The box was packed with Polaroid photos bundled together with rubber bands. Pryn lifted a bundle. The exposed front photo was a girl Nick had only dated for a week. She was nude except for her cowboy boots. Her legs were open and she was either covering her pussy or rubbing it. Her face was beet red with embarrassment. Nick had written "Debbie" in Sharpie on the white frame. Pryn examined another bundle. It was Dolores. Nude, of course, but not blushing. There were several bundles marked "Dolores." One bundle was marked "Dolores & Skeet."

Pryn pushed the sheets into the washing machine and came back to take a closer look at "Dolores & Skeet." She sat in the floor and spun loose the rubber band away from the photos. The first six photos were Dolores posing; sticking out her ass. Pointing her index finger onto her tongue while she smiled. Pinching and lifting her own fat tits and wide nipples. Picture Seven introduced Skeet in his boxers. Pryn had met Skeet a few times. He was Nick's football and wrestling buddy. By the ninth photo Skeet's underwear was off and Dolores was throating his long, thin dick.

"The life you've lead, brother," Pryn whispered. The volume of photo bundles and the sheer number of different girls Nick had collected added up to a punch in Pryn's gut. Not only was Pryn a meaningless kept whore in a harem of kept whores, but she was only one of fifty girls to take Nick's rut. Chapman probably had a box of mementos too, and it probably had two hundred women collected within.

Depression gripped Pryn, and it gripped her hard. She picked out the photos of her mother, the first ones that Nick had taken on her birthday when he used up all the film. At the back of that collection was one blurry photo of Pryn. Or Pryn's tits and bush. Her head was out of frame. At the bottom of that photo Nick had written "Perfect!"

Pryn considered whether that meant Nick thought she had a perfect body, or if it was perfect by the nature of it being only her body; her face and identity removed. Just a pussy hole and two big pink tits. There was dried yellow come spots dotting the bottom frame.

"Asshole," Pryn mumbled. She pocketed the photos of her mother and threw "Perfect!" back in the box and returned it under the bed. Pryn lay down beside the bed and felt the washing cycle vibrations thrum through the floor while she stared up at the beams that crossed Nick's ceiling. She thought about the time she held Nick's ears in the basement to shield him from the screams of her abused mother. Where was the man who could spoon up behind her and make Pryn feel safe?

She heard somebody come through the front door. Then a murmur that was Oksana and Katrina talking in the kitchen. The washer buzzed and stopped.

"Should we prepare the girls?" Oksana's voice was suddenly clear in the ensuing silence.

"I don't know, Oks. What do you think?" Katrina said in a low, conspiratorial voice. Pryn realized that neither of them had any idea that she was also in the cabin.

"I think they would worry," Oksana said.

"They should worry." Katrina's voice was terse. "We all should be very worried."

Pryn stiffened. Her ears piqued.

"Nothing good can come of a visit from the Mothership," Oksana said.

"Perhaps The Family is merely going to place a last, wayward girl with us so Nick can take his brides and go," Katrina said. "Or maybe they are going to bring in a stud from another family to breed our girls."

"Chappy found the perfect set of brooding nests, did he not, Katty?"

Katrina sighed. "Perfect until one of them goes into ectoptic shock or a baby turns breach or a girl comes down with preclampsia. That's a shitty way for a mom to watch her daughter die."

"Chappy will not let it go that far."

"If it's Belle, he'll pretty much have to. Or if it's three or four of them knocked up a the same time, he's not going to trust a midwife out here. Or if he's in Central Africa and something goes wrong, what choice will he have?"

"I had not thought about that. I assumed we had another year before the girls were turned out to breed."

"Me too," Katrina said. "But now we've got The Family coming next week."

"Fuck," Oksana growled.

The cabin's front door hinge squeaked and then made a thud. Pryn listened for whoever came in. She heard nothing. The moms had gone out.

Every word Pryn had eavesdropped left her more chilled than the one before it.

"Hey, Prynelope," Ressa wiggled her fingers to pull Pryn toward her.

Pryn was nervous from her eavesdrop. She stopped quickwalking toward Eula's cabin. "'Sup?"

"What's Daddy building in the Great Room? Did you see that giant table thing?"

Pryn nodded.

"It looks like a big poker table," Ressa said. "What is it?"

"Not sure," Pryn said. But given the sturdy legs under it and how high they are, I'm guessing it's going to be a kind of bed big enough for all of us at once."

"Yeah," Ressa said. "That was my guess."

"We'll find out soon enough," Pryn said.

"I hope so," Ressa said. "Nicky can't come home from school soon enough."

Pryn tried not to roll her eyes.

Before Chapman left to pick up Nick from Bridgegate Academy on Friday afternoon, Pryn walked into the Great Room to examine the structure in the middle. Chapman had put a layer of foam between the wood decking and the vinyl covering. It was, for all practical purposes, a giant bed shaped like a stop sign. Definitely enough surface area to accommodate six hens and two roosters. Along the outside soffit were a ring of strategic eye bolts, just perfect for affixing twelve ankles in place.

This is how they are going to breed us, Pryn thought. That's exactly what this table is for.

Ressa, Oks, and Katrina were buzzing about the kitchen, prepping a meal fit for the return of a Prince. It smelled amazing.

Chapman walked in and wiped his boots on the mud mat. "Hey, girl."

"Hey Daddy," Pryn said.

"What do you think of the new collar call dais?"

"Is that what it is?"

"Yeah. I like the symmetry of it," Chapman said. "Hop on up. Try it out."

Pryn lifted her knee up to mount the table.

"The fuck are you doing?" Chapman scowled. "You don't disrespect this household like that!"

Pryn looked at Chapman, unsure of where she'd gone wrong. Then she understood. She stripped her clothes, panties, and bra.

"That's better," Chapman said. "Now up."

Pryn mounted the table carefully. The padding felt good under her knees. It reminded her of a gymnastic mat.

"Bitch-up. Ass out," Chapman barked.

Pryn went to doggy with her feet hanging over the edge of the table, the way she was accustomed to being taken on a bed.

"Good," Chapman said. He gripped Pryn's ankles in each hand and pulled them outward where he wanted them with easy strength. "I think I set the eye rings too wide," he mumbled. One of his hands left Pryn's ankle and reappeared in her sex, feeling the spread of it and fingertipping the dangling labia. "Ehn, maybe not," Chapman said. "Maybe for Belle, but the rest of you should have a nice, open fuckhole when you're locked down."

Chapman slapped Pryn's ass with an open hand. "Spin," he commanded.

Pryn spun with her mouth directly aligned with the bulge in her Daddy's pants. Pryn stared at the bulge, unhinged her jaw, and lolled her tongue into the air. It was her training.

Chapman reached over Pryn and ran his hands down her back toward her ass. The warm feel of strong hands on her skin was terrific.

"Alright," Chapman seemed pleased with himself. "I think I nailed it. This is going to work fine. Dismount and dress, Prinadlez."

"Daddy," Pryn said. "You want sucked?"

"Later," Chapman said. "When Nicolai gets home tonight, I'm going to have to be on my game to keep up with him. That bastard has some stamina. He's starting to show up his old man."

"Daddy," Pryn said, pulling her panties up her thighs, "what is 'The Family?' "

Chapman froze. "Who told you about The Family?"

Pryn stiffened.

"Never mind," Chapman said. "I can figure out who told you."

"I just overheard stuff," Pryn said. "Nobody told me anything."

Chapman nodded. "Lack of discretion is the same as treason, as far as I'm concerned."

"Please, Daddy," Pryn said. "Don't be mad. What I heard frightened me."

"The Family frightens me, too," Chapman said through a terse jaw. "Finish getting dressed and keep that shit to yourself, Prinadlez."

Nick loved the addition of the collar call dais "That's amazing, Pop!"

"Thought you'd like it," Chapman said. "You'll have to help me think up ways to put it to good use."

"I've already got an idea," Nick said. "I can't wait for dinner to be over. Maybe we should eat late and call the bitches now."

Chapman laughed. "They've killed the fatted calf for you, son. They've been cooking for you all day. Don't be a schmuck and make them eat it cold. Besides, I'm starving. Call the girls in for communion and let's eat."

Nick's erection seemed like it was going to rip out of his pants as he rounded the dais and collared the women one at a time. He even collared Pryn and Eulanne in their bright, shiny pink training collars. This was highly unusual.

Daddy had the girls kneeling, facing out, in assigned positions around the hexagonal perimeter. Facing out, Pryn drew Belle on her right and Katrina on her left. Ressa was to Katrina's left. Then Eula. Then Oks. Then back to Belle. Daddy returned from his cabin with a tangle of thin chains in his hands. The opening and closing of the cabin door made all the nude girls and women shudder with the cold gust that whipped into the Great Room. Pryn felt her nipples turn to diamonds, but it may have been the nervous anticipation.

"Okay, bitches," Nick said, taking some of the chains from his father and clipping them to D-rings on the collars, "we're going to run The Daisy."

Pryn exhaled. The Daisy was easy. It was one of Nick's games. Three of the girls positioned with their mouth outward to suck the men walking the perimeter of the bed and the three alternating girls in-between positioned themselves doggy to be fucked. Nick and Chapman started on opposite sides of the bed and moved in an opposing circle: Pounding a pussy for a while and then stepping to the left and fucking a throat for a while. As soon as one of them moved, the other one moved to keep pace. The two men kept each other spinning around the women until one of them came. Then the other man circled alone while the first comer sat in a chair and recharged.

The two men could go for hours doing this, egging each other on with their stamina.

At any time, one of the men could slap an ass and shout "Spin!" Like a synchronized machine, all of the cocksuckers rotated to become fuckbitches and all of the doggy fuckbitches rotated to be cocksuckers.

Sometimes one of the men would shout, "Reverse!" and if they had been moving clockwise, they'd fuck and throatfuck counter-clockwise for a while, ensuring each girl tasted the pussy of two other girls.

Pryn wasn't thrilled that she was positioned to taste Belle's pussy all night, but Katrina's whet wasn't terrible.

Still... The Daisy was easy. The hardest part had been trying to stay in position with six girls crammed onto Daddy's king size mattress when they played the game back in Kentucky. All Pryn had to do was endure her turns taking a pounding at both ends and let the men exhaust themselves. Maybe she'd even luck out and get one of Daddy's loads on her tongue or in her womb.

"But this Daisy is going to be a bit different," Nick continued. "Once a bitch earns a load in her mouth or our pussy, she will be unhooked from the Daisy and kneel in the floor and wait. We'll keep doing this until there's only two girls remaining. Then it will come down to a race between Dad and I to sperm a bitch. The last bitch who hasn't taken sperm..." Nick finished clipping his last leash into the last collar and picked up an ass-whipping cane from the back of his wingback chair. He swished it through the air with a menacing "kifff!" sound. "The last bitch without come gets shunned."

Pryn shuddered. Shunned. That's what Nick had called it the time Katrina got caned, spit on, and left tied in a pretzel overnight. Pryn wanted no part of Nick's shun.

"To keep it fair," Nick said, "I've got an app on my phone that goes off at random times. When it short beeps, that's our signal to switch bitches. When it long beeps, Dad and I change directions. When you hear this sound..." A duck quacked. "Bitches spin. To your right as always."

Pryn heard Nick's zipper and watched her father undress. "Pryn, Ressa, Ox. You're heads," Chapman commanded. "The rest of you, tails. Let's go."

Pryn went to all fours with her mouth ready to suck a cock.

Daddy's thick red cockhead bounced an inch from Pryn's mouth.

"Hang on," Nick said. "Fuck. I had this working."

"C'mon, Son," Chapman growled.

"Okay, I got it," Nick said. "We start on the first short beep."

"Fuck that," Chapman said, pushing his hot steel into Pryn's mouth without waiting.

Daddy had his hands in Pryn's hair on each side of her ears when the first beep chirped from Nick's smart phone. She could barely hear it. Daddy was already pumping cock deep into her soft throat.

"Uhhhhn!!!" Pryn heard Eula take Nick's first hard thrust, knocking the wind out of her. Nick wasn't one to prime-the-pump. He just plowed into his pussies, whether that pussy was ready to be violated or not. If Nick was ready, that was all that counted.

The feel of Daddy's hard hotness throbbing on Pryn's tongue ensured she'd suffer no such fate. Sucking Daddy always left Pryn dripping. Today would be no exception.

Too soon there was another chirp and Pryn went cockless as Daddy took a step to his right and slipped the length of his massive cock into Katrina's shaved pussy, his hands taking command of her upturned ass cheeks. Katrina was a talker and started in right away with her "Oh yeah, Daddys" and "Oh please please fuck this bitch, Daddys."

Oks moaned and gagged on Nick's deep thrusts into her mouth. Pryn knew her mother was putting-on for effect, making more noise than she needed to. Oks could deep throat a Clydesdale and not blink.

*Beep*

"Oh fucking finally!" screamed Belle as Nick mounted her. Pryn could hear the wet slosh of Belle's twat and knew Belle had been anticipating hard attention. She got it. She moaned and cooed in her funny voice. Pryn looked over her shoulder and saw Belle making her bottom into a moving target, circling and thrusting back against the shaft that was pounding her. Nick's swinging ballsack was going everywhere as he followed Belle's grind.

"Jesus, you little slut," Nick said between clinched teeth. "You really want this come, don't you?"

"Fuck yeah!" Belle growled. "Fuck yeah, My Prince! Show your bitch who owns this pussy."

Pryn saw Nick's face flush. He was going to pop.

*Beep*

"Goddammit!" Belle screamed as Nick pulled out and stepped toward Pryn's face.

Pryn knew she could put Nick over and be out of shun danger. She knew he was on the edge.

"Oh yeah, give me that hard cock, Prince Nicolai," Pryn said in her sexy voice when her mouth was at the top of Nick's cock. "I want that come, sweet brother."

Nick didn't thrust. He leaned back and let Pryn suck while he combed his fingers through his hair and tried not to look down. Pryn slurped and oversucked Nick's cock head until he flinched. She braced for the bitter salt of Nick's fire hose orgasm. All she could taste was Belle's thick pussy slop. Pryn popped off and started a lick from Nick's balls all the way to his come hole. Nick's balls were tight as a drum. She had him.

"Oh, I want that thick come of yours, My Prince," Pryn cooed. "I missed you so much when you were--"

*Quack Quack!*

Nick stepped backwards out of Pryn's mouth. His crimson cockhead jerked in the air. Pryn was sure it was going to flex one more time and pump hot come on her face."

Katrina had already spun around to suck. "Pryn!" she shouted.

Nick looked down. "Spin, Pryn! Get that ass back!"

Pryn spun to her right and endured the brutal impale of her brother burying his pecker all the way into her. He held it slow and tight against her ass. She waited for Nick to thrust, but all Pryn felt was the sharp ticking of a throbbing cock about to sperm.

Nick took a couple of slow saws in and out of Pryn's wet tightness. She waited to hear the grunt that signaled Nick coming. Nick relented and took a slow pull out of Pryn and then a sharp thrust that punched the top of her cervix and stole the breath from between her teeth in the ensuing exhale. Then again. Then faster. Then faster.

"Goddammit," Nick moaned. "I'm already gonna..."

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!*

Nick pulled out of Pryn's cunt and a second later Pryn heard Nick scream profanities as Belle grunted and slurped his load down with greedy gurgles.

"Hey there, Minute Mike," Chapman teased from where he was laying a steady pipe to Ressa's upturned slit.

"Fuck!" Nick shouted. "I'm too wound up. I should have taken a blowjob as soon as I got home from school."

"Excuses, excuses," Chapman said. "But I'm close too. C'mon, Rezzy. Shake that ass for Daddy."

"Ew! Ew! Ew!" Ressa chirped. Pryn looked over her shoulder. "I'm coming!" Ressa moaned, her head lifting.

"I don't fucking care," Chapman growled. "Move that ass, slut." Chapman put a hot-fast palm into Ressa's right ass cheek. This apparently made the second wave of her orgasm more violent than the ramp up.

Nick pointed at the floor. "Okay, Belle. Down. You're safe."

"I don't want to be safe!" Belle croaked. "I just got started. I don't want to get down!"

"Belle, if you stay you could end up getting caned. Now get down."

"I'll take my chances," Belle said. "I haven't even tasted Daddy's meat. It's not fair!"

Nick shook his head and pointed at the floor. Belle stomped her knees on the table until she could stomp her bare feet on the floor. She knelt, crossed her arms dramatically, and pouted.

*Beep*

Chapman stepped left and skewered Katrina's waiting mouth. She moaned so deeply that Pryn could feel the vibration through her hands on the table.

"Oh man," Chapman whispered.

*QUACK!*

Pryn saw her father smile as he backed out and waited for the girls to spin. As soon as Katrina's ass was pointed at him he went at it like a Silverback gorilla. He fucked her so hard that he lifted her hips off the table and her legs kicked in the air.

"Whaaaaahfuck!" Chapman grunted. His thrusts slowed. He pulled Katrina's back up against his chest, still hinged to his thick cock, and licked her ear. Katrina giggled like a school girl.

Nick walked back out of the kitchen with a water bottle in each hand. Chapman pulled a come-coated half erect cock out of Katrina and lowered her to the floor next to Belle. Nick tossed a water bottle in the air and Chapman caught it. "Clean that up, Prinadlez," he said to Pryn as he stepped in front of her, uncapped the bottle and tipped it up.

Pryn took a deep breath and leaned down to suck the tip of her father's cock in her mouth. She lowered her suck, tasting the salty seed of her father and the metallic pussy tang of her step mother. At half-mast, Pryn could get a lot more of Chapman's package in her mouth, but she still had to pull off and lick the sticky mess at the base of Chapman's cock clean.

Daddy never went fully soft. He pulled Oksana around by her collar chain and let Pryn and Oksana double their mouths on his penis as it stiffened and took color once more.

Somewhere behind Pryn she heard Eula take a fucking once more. Nick was back at it, slow and timed. Daddy transitioned to Oksana's suck alone and Pryn saw her mother sucking between huge smiles. Oksana loved this kind of challenge.

Belle and Katrina had both gone out while fucking. This left Pryn and Oks as cocksuckers. Eula as a fuckbitch. And then Ressa as a cocksucker too.

Fifteen minutes of circling and spinning later, Nick creamed Oksana's mouth at almost the exact time that Chapman spermed Ressa's pussy. Both fell back and drank some more water and rested in their throne chairs for a while.

Pryn was more nervous than usual. It was down to her and Eula. Part of her loved Eula like a sister, but Pryn was not getting bloody welts across her ass if she could help it. Worse than a caning would be a whole night tied in a stress position, unable to sleep and watching a slow clock count off the minutes until sunrise. And then however long it took for the men to wake and decide that it was time to untie her.

No fucking way, thought Pryn. She shuddered with the cold of the room and a twinge of fear.

"Hey, I was checking those diode stocks you recommended for the leftover equity," Chapman said to Nick. "Nice job, Son. That's fourteen percent in only a couple months."

"I told you." Nick took a swig of water and scratched his balls. "That wasn't luck, Pop. I was watching the P and E on that sector for a year now. Don't sell yet. There's still a lot of room for growth in tech manufacturing. Not the PC side, but diodes for smart phones and shit."

"Okay," Chapman said. "I'll trust you."

"There's an undercapitalized railroad stock I want to show you later," Nick said.

Chapman nodded. "I'm listening. But first, let's finish what we started. Turn off that stupid quacking app. We can work these last two on our own."

Nick stood and stretched. His flaccid, dripping penis thickened to an obtuse angle. "Two to two, Pop!" Nick smiled. "You know I can go four."

"Yeah, yeah," Chapman shrugged. "Quality over quantity, Son."

Nick smirked. "With two left, it's speed over everything."

"Like I care which of these two uncollared bitches gets trussed and whipped," Chapman said. "Once we have an official loser for The Daisy, we can get the rest of the bitches back up, right?"

"Yes!" volunteered Belle. Chapman laughed.

"Seriously," Nick said. "I've got my second wind. I can go three more times."

The men climbed up on the table with their knees and herded Pryn and Eula to the center. Nick and Chapman knelt shoulder to shoulder. Eula sucked Nick. Pryn sucked Chapman.

"C'mon, Pryn," Chapman warned. "Pick up the pace. Slut it up."

Pryn moaned and torqued her neck to screw more wet pleasure onto Daddy's pecker.

Eula was grunting a steady moan that started-and-stopped with the head of Nick's manrock jamming in and out of her throat.

"You're getting the best of this," Chapman said. "Switch."

A beat later Nick's fire-hot shaft was sliding between Pryn's teeth. He didn't stay long. "Switch!" Nick called. Daddy's cock was back on Pryn's tongue.

"C'mon Pryn," Chapman growled. "I'm not going to tell you again. More moans. More slut. Deeper sucks."

Pryn moaned and tried to jam her father's cockhead down her esophagus.

"Oh, fuck this," Chapman said. He pulled out and pushed Pryn so hard that she rolled onto her back. He mounted Eula from behind while Nick furiously pumped his shaft in and out of Eula's mouth. The two men picked up speed and power, skewering Eula in a one-two motion that rippled through the muscles of her entire body.

"Yeah yeah," Chapman smiled. "I'm going."

"I'm going first," Nick grunted.

The violence that Pryn saw Eula taking from both ends was unprecedented. Eula was sheet white from lips to the soles of her feet. Pryn wasn't sure how she was able to find a breath with the arm-sized fuckrod banging into her ass and spanking her pussy with Daddy's giant balls, and Nick wrenching the back of her hair in one hand and gripping her collar chain with the other while his ass turned into a mouth-fucking piston blur. Eula's eyes were wet slits.

"I've got it!" Nick grunted.

"Too late," Chapman grunted back.

"Gahhhhh!" Nick hissed.

"Whuhn-uhn-unhn!" Chapman moaned, slowing his sadistic doggy fuck.

That's when Eula orgasmed. The sound she made was unholy. Her toes curled so tightly that her feet looked as if they were trying to fold on themselves. She trashed as violently as the cocks skewering her would permit movement. Pussy whet squirted from her twat and bounced off Daddy's balls before pooling on the vinyl under her.

"Holy shit." Nick looked down at the vibrations rippling through Eula even as they stopped thrusting. She pushed back and ground against Chapman's cock until she crested her orgasm.

Nick and Chapman pulled back at the same time and Eula collapsed into a spent puddle of pleasured bitch between them, gasping like a landed trout.

Nick and Chapman high fived. Then they both looked at Pryn at the same time.

Cold fear stabbed Pryn in the gut.

"You do the deed," Chapman said to Nick. "You're the disciplinarian now."

"With pleasure," Nick smiled a wicked grin at Pryn. "I haven't beat a bitch ass in weeks."

When the kept Reynolds girls were sure the menfolk were not around to hear them, sometimes they would grouse about the beatings. Mostly, almost unanimously, they hated being tied and left in a stress position overnight. Chapman had started the practice, but Nick upped it into an art form. Chapman would tie their toes to their hair and leave them in a O-shaped backbend all night. When the urge to flex became too great, the girls would have to stretch. They had to. The back pain was too persistent to ignore. Flexing moved the dull. soaking pain from their lower back and shoulders to their scalp and toes, where it burned hot and sharp. They moaned and mewled into their ball gags and watched the second hand on the clock taunt them between its pregnant shuffles.

And then came Nick.

Nick invented a pretzel position tether that jumpstarted the bondage pain immediately. No build up. One foot was duct taped to the thigh of the same leg. then the opposite foot was crossed around the shin and pulled back before being tied to the opposite shoulder, the rope cutting into their tits where it came across the front.

Instead of having their arms tied wrist-to-opposite elbow in a standard box tie (ala Chapman), Nick tied them together at the elbow and then pulled the rope attached to one wrist through the D-ring of the girl's collar and the wrist of the other hand was tied to an ankle.

"That looks like a mess," Chapman had said.

"Yeah," Nick nodded, "But look at Ressa's face. Look at those big, pleading eyes. She's feelin' it everywhere, aren't you, bitch?"

That was Ressa.

Pryn wasn't Ressa. Pryn still had all her gymnastic flexibility. Nick's crazy body knot barely phased her. Pryn's pain focus wasn't in her back. All she could feel was the exquisite burning from her buttocks where Nick had laced them with the cane harder than he had ever abused her before. Tears slid out of Pryn's eyes and onto the new vinyl table where Nick had left her in the dark. Her glutes flexed involuntarily, as if the muscles were attempting to spit the pain away like venom.

She bit into the soft rubber ball gag, her teeth breaking the surface. Pryn knew this would earn her another round of punishment in the morning when Nick pulled the gag out to lecture her before untying her. She didn't care. The pain had to go somewhere.

She heard the cabin door grind out a suppressed squeak. Nick was sound asleep in his bed, so it wasn't him. Chapman's big hands wiped the hair from Pryn's face. He unbuckled the gag strap and pulled the ball from her mouth.

Chapman had a sports water bottle with a long straw attached, the kind football players use to drink through the faceguard of a helmet. He tipped it down for Pryn to drink. She did.

"That tastes weird," Pryn croaked.

"I know," whispered Chapman. "I put something in it to help you with the pain."

Pryn did not want drugs in her body. It made her feel impure. She avoided even aspirin. But her father's intentions seemed kind. She nodded and opened her parched mouth like a baby to signal that she wanted more. Chapman obliged.

"Daddy, why did you do that?" Pryn whimpered. "Why did you give up on me? I was trying so hard to make you come."

Chapman combed his perfectly unkempt hair with his fingers. "Yeah," Chapman said. "I know. I know you were trying. But one of you was going to be here tied up tonight. That was the game once Nick called it. Eula got roughed up last week for not paying attention at collar call. You haven't been punished since... Well I can't remember the last time you really took it on the ass. It was your turn."

"It's not fair," Pryn sobbed.

Chapman sighed. "Hey, look. I know this isn't going to take any pain away from your blistered ass, but Nick will learn that this is not the way you inspire women to abide their master. Eventually. I made the same mistakes when I was young. I was an idiot. I figured it out. Nick will figure it out."

"Daddy, you're the boss!" Pryn said.

"Shhhhhh!" Chapman shushed.

"You can stop Nick from doing mean stuff. You can teach him!"

Chapman gently brushed the backs of his fingers across Pryn's cheeks. "I know," he whispered. "But he's on a journey, and you're on that same journey with him. He will learn the difference between the power of a harsh hand and the magnetism of a firm hand. You'll forgive him."

"No I won't!"

"Yes. You will. You will forgive him. You'll watch him grow into a capable master of his household. You'll learn to admire him. One day, you will love him."

Pryn's expression tightened into a reflex of revulsion.

Chapman smiled. "We'll see, won't we? You love me, don't you, Angel?"

Pryn nodded. "You're not a dickwad like Nick."

"Oh, but I've made so many more mistakes, Angelpie. I'm still living with them. I've put the family in Jeopardy, Pryn. I've put all of you in a terrible place with my mistakes. Tomorrow night, when the Maester comes and inspects you, you have to be absolutely perfect, Pryn. You must be your very best kept girl self."

"The Maester?"

Chapman nodded sadly. "He's the one man on the planet who can break up our family. He's the one son-of-a-bitch with enough juice that I can't save you if he takes you from me, Pryn. He can take you from me and give you to some sadistic mother fucker who makes Nick look like a boy scout. Promise me, you'll be your best."

"You're scaring me, Daddy."

"Good," Chapman said. "Fear is your friend. I suspect those stripes on your ass just might be what it takes for the Maester to passover you. Then you'll understand why I cheated you tonight. Here, drink some more of this."

When Nick did not return to Bridgegate Academy on Monday morning, Pryn knew something big was going down. Mr. Jack showed up in his beat-up minivan and Chapman sent him away. A late winter storm was blowing in hard from the East and Pryn felt every bit of straight line wind up her skirt on her enflamed posterior.

Ressa and Belle cleaned her wounds with peroxide and applied the tar-like salve that Oksana brewed up on the stove; a smelly, Earthy brown concoction that stuck to skin like sap and reeked of bitter herbs. Pryn hated the stink of it, but from experience she knew it worked. She'd seen how much faster the others healed when it was applied. Bella wrapped her in Saran wrap from her wasp waist to her thighs to keep the salve from soaking into her skirt. There would be no underwear for days, lest her sores clot to it and keep ripping open.

Eula kept her distance the day after. Pryn wasn't angry at Eula. Pryn knew Eula was equal prisoner to the whims of the men as she was. Pryn wanted to talk to her about The Family and the Maester; see what wisdom Eula could impart. But Eula kept to herself.

Oksana and Katrina cleaned Cabin Two with a white-glove fury. When Pryn waddled in late for lunch the great room was gleaming. "Looks immaculate," Pryn said.

"Yeah, what are you two up to, mom?" Belle's forehead creased.

"Don't you worry about it," Katrina said. "Eat and go get your shower."

"It's only two."

"I don't care. Groom for inspection."

"The hot water heater in my cabin takes forever to charge. It'll be cold now and it'll be cold again tomorrow if I shower this early."

"Belle!" Oksana shouted, pointed toward the cabin door.

"Chill, whore," Belle growled. "You're not my mom."

Katrina slapped Belle across the face.

"You're not supposed to hit me!" Belle shouted. "I'm telling Nick!"

"Wait!" cried Oksana. She hugged Belle. "Today is not the day for this, little one. Trust your mother. Trust me. Go make yourself squeaky clean. We are having company this evening."

Belle pulled away and brightened. "What kind of company?"

"Important company."

"Men?"

"Yes."

"Are we getting fucked?" Belle asked.

Oksana looked at Katrina.

Katrina shrugged. "Maybe," she mumbled. "Be prepared for anything. Now if you are done with your lunch, wash your plate and go."

"You can shower in my cabin," Pryn offered. "And then you can change the dressing on my butt after I clean up."

"Okay!" Belle was practically floating. She ran out out of the cabin.

Pryn tried to spoon her tomato soup faster, standing at her table setting. She looked at Oksana and Katrina. They looked back at her with sheepish avoidance.

Ressa snapped off a stringy bite of grilled cheese sandwich. "What's going on?"

Pryn noted that her fellow proper daughters were more in the dark about The Family and it's Maester than she was.

Katrina ran her fingers through Ressa's long, dark hair and whispered. "Just be good tonight. That is all you can do." She punctuated the act of motherly love with a hitch and a suppressed sniffle.

Oksana started crying hard, pressing her hands into her face. "This is all my fault! I'm so sorry! Oh, Katty, I am so sorry!"

Katrina moved to hug Oksana. "It's okay, Luv. I understand. I completely understand. I know how hard it was to forfeit those two baby boys of mine after you had Nick. I understand. We'll get through this together."

Pryn's chill deepened. Whatever was about to happen was not good.

Pryn heard the bell for collar call as the sun was setting. She pulled on her coat and started the trek to Cabin Two. The freezing wind blew up her short skirt and nipped at her exposed pussy lips and blistered bum. She looked up to see the first gleaming white Expedition rumble through the treeline and down the road toward Cabin Two. Then a second identical SUV behind it. And then a third.

Chapman and Nick hunched out into the cold to meet the occupants of the cars. All four doors on each of the first two cars opened and an army of severe-looking men in peacoats stepped out and looked around. One of the men pointed at Pryn. That's when Pryn saw the stubby assault rifles slung over their shoulders on straps. Eula stepped out of her cabin about that time and she also froze at the sight of armed men walking toward her. Some of the men ducked into Belle's cabin. Others Ressa's cabin. They were searching for something. One of the men approached Eula and told her to raise her arms. He unzipped her coat and frisked her efficiently and quickly. He barked at her to be on her way. The same man frisked Pryn a moment later. His hands stopped on the sensation of plastic wrap under her skirt. He lifted the front pleat, smiled, and lifted the back pleat. "Move along, bitch," the man growled. He lifted the buckle of his watch to his mouth. "Girls are clean. Keep sweeping the cabins."

Pryn's knees were nerve-knocking when she entered Cabin Two.

Oksana, Belle, and Ressa were already nude. Katrina was undressing. "Hurry," she shouted at Eula. "And smile! All of you, smile!"

All six women knelt in their spot atop the short vinyl-covered dais, pointed tits-out. Nick ran in and frantically buckled collars on the collared females. No training collars for Pryn and Eula.

The door opened and three of the strange soldiers entered Cabin Two and swept through it, again as if looking for someone or something. Every couple seconds, one of them would shout "Clear!"

They reconvened in the Great Room and the armed man with the scar over his lip spoke into his watch. "Clear seven. Alabaster. Six cargo and Reynolds Two present and accounted." The man touched his ear and for the first time Pryn saw the wire to the earpiece. The men were large men. Even with coats on, Pryn could measure their imposition. If all of those men were going to fuck the girls, the girls certainly had their work cut out for them.

The front door flagged and the breeze hardened Pryn's pointy nipples into uranium pellets. Chapman walked in with five more soldiers and the man who was obviously not a soldier. His gray hair was thick and swept back from his forehead. His jaw was wide, like Chapman's. He pulled off his coat and handed it to a soldier. He was dressed in an expensive suit like Daddy and Nick, perfectly tailored to a wide V-chest that belied the age projected by his hair. He looked like an old, handsome vampire. Elegant but still dangerous with strength.

"Maester Dunhowt," Chapman said, "I present to you my family."

The man walked a slow circle around the dais, looking each of the girls and women up and down with a slow, sweeping leer. He started with Pryn. After a long while, he walked back into Pryn's sightline.

"Turn around, bitch." The man had a thick germanic accent. He swiveled a downward index finger like he was mixing a drink.

Pryn spun around to all-fours, her ass pointed at the Maester. He placed a warm hand on Pryn's welts and rubbed. Pryn clenched her teeth not to cry out or grunt.

"There is nothing so beautiful as a purple ass on a collared kept bitch," said the man. "And somehow, there is nothing so repulsive as a purple ass on an uncollared bitch. This is Prinadlez, yes?"

"Yes, Maester Dunhowt," Chapman said.

"I remember the spectacular tits on this one," said the Maester. "Seventeen?"

"Yes," said Chapman. "Just turned."

"Why is she uncollared, Reynolds?"

Pryn watched her father sigh. "I will not collar a bitch who isn't committed enough to die for her men."

"And why is she so uncommitted?"

Chapman opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Thank you," said the Maester. "For once you take responsibility for your mistakes. That is progress. I always had a spot in my heart for Prinadlez. Back on your knees, girl." After Pryn was facing him he slowly rolled his warm fingers through the bounce of Pryn's tits and the tightness of her nipples. "But now I see that she is uncollared and insolent, I realize that my time is best spent elsewhere."

Pryn lost sight of the Maester as he circled the table again.

"And this one," said the Maester. "Also seventeen and uncollared. This is Eulanne, correct?"

"Maester, Eulanne loves Nicolai," Chapman said. "Truly loves him. I refrained from collaring her as she should be the first beta to Nicolai. He should collar her and build his family around her."

"This is how it works, certainly," said the Maester in his sinister accent. "This is an acceptable practice. For families who are complete. That's not your family, Reynolds. Your family is not complete. You are one bitch short."

"We're still working on that," Chapman said.

The German laughed. "With young Belle here being fourteen? Reynolds. Please. You didn't even have the courtesy to breed one of your daughters and try to pass it off as one of yours."

"That would be a lie," Chapman said.

"Lie, schmie. The Family knows such a lie, but we've been looking the other way for three hundred years. You did not even have the temerity to respect us enough to try and lie to us. You were told the rules, Reynolds. One prince. Two betas. Five bitches. And you failed to deliver on the contract you accepted."

"Maester..." Chapman said.

"Reynolds, when we shuttled your teen whore out of Baranovici, you assured us that you were prepared to abide by the contract of The Family."

"Yes," said Chapman.

"And when little baby Ressa needed a heart transplant, who found such a rare salvation and bribed the surgeon to transplant it?"

"The Family did," Chapman said.

"When your coworkers and you were captive at Olenyok, who called the Zetchieks and had you released unharmed?"

"The Family did," Chapman said.

"Yes," said the Maester. "The Family provided for you many times, Reynolds. Many times. And the terms of our contract were clear as crystal, were they not? One prince. Two betas. Five bitches. You took our favor, but you did not abide our terms."

"The Tellmyts have a sixth daughter," Chapman said. "She's twelve. We could complete our family and make a good home for her," Chapman said.

The Maester spoke plainly. "That was your play? The Czechs? You thought The Family would take from that proud family to compensate for your failures, Reynolds?"

"I've earned it," Chapman said. "I've been a good soldier to The Family every time you called upon me."

"That you have," said The Maester. "Most certainly, Reynolds. You are not only competent in combat, but you are the best. You remember the Dellaneys in New Zealand? I never told you this, but he was prepared to fight to keep his women. You know what I said? I said, "Go ahead, Jacob. Fight, if you feel you must. I'm sending Reynolds. Good luck.' And do you know what he said? He cried, the fool. He cried and said, 'Fine. Take them.' That is your reputation. If your hole card was a war, Reynolds, that will certainly be an epic fight. It will be a tremendous war that The Family will remember for years. But sooner or later, one soldier or fifty, we will kill you and take the women. If that is your path, you can be sure they all will go to South Africa. Every one of them. As it stands, we'll probably only send your used-up Russian whore to those sadists."

"Maester, there's another way." Chapman pleaded.

"There is no other way. There is the way of The Family. You are one bitch shy of assuming the mantle of your own chapter. This is what I propose. You keep Katrina. She is beautiful, but too old for chattel. I will take Prinadlez and breed her. With that hair she should be able to whelp out a redheaded girl or three if properly studed. Redheads are precious few these days. Always in demand. They will bring me a small fortune. Give Nicolai the bitch of his choice. He deserves the chance to start fresh. Oksana to the South Africans. Then you pick one more to keep and trade the other bitch to the Ramirez clan in Peru. You owe him for the heart."

"Oksana is not going to the South Africans," Chapman said tersely. "That's a deal breaker. I'll do the rest, but not Oksana. The South Africans are twisted cancers on The Family. The reason they go through women so fast is because they insane."

"They've earned the right to be insane," said the Maester. "They've met their obligations. That's why they get to chew on the castoff bitches from fuckups like you, Reynolds."

"There is another way," Chapman shouted.

"There is no other way," The Maester said softly.

"What if I deliver four baby girls to The Family?" Chapman pleaded. "Look at these bitches, Maester. Do you think that any of them would make ugly babies?"

The Maester waved his hand dismissively. "This never works," he mumbled. "Bitches don't breed wellwhen they know their babies will be taken. And then bred bitches turn bitter and dangerous after their fruit is plucked away from them."

"Give me a chance," Chapman, pleaded.

"No," said the Maester.

"Please!"

"No."

"Then I will fight," Chapman said. "We'll go to war."

The Master said nothing for a beat. "You are truly a fool, Reynolds. A noble fool, and good Master to your brood. But a fool." The Maester scratched his chin. "Alright. I'll make you a bargain. Breed four baby girls to this brood in the next twelve months. I take three. You keep one. The caveat is that I send the breeding males of my choice. That is my final offer, unless you want to save time and skip to the part with the bullets."

"I'll take that deal," Chapman said.

Pryn finally took her collar. It was attached to a leash. The leash was either held by the tall redheaded man who spanked Pryn as he fucked her doggy, or the average build good-looking redheaded teen who choked Pryn while he fucked her missionary.

Or it was secured to her headboard.

She never left her cabin. One of the men brought back her meals from Cabin Two. She never saw her mother or the other citizens of The Farm. She only saw the two males who had been sent to knock her up. Neither of them spoke a word of English. They spoke to one another and played cards in a language that sounded Slavic. They took turns bathing Pryn. When Pryn went to her powder room, they held the leash. They watched her wipe her ass with toilet paper. Usually they pushed her into a cold shower and washed her ass until they pulled her wet back to the bed and waited to mount her again. And again. And again.

Pryn sucked their cocks a hundred times, but their sperm only went one place.

Pryn had never been so--

052914: DAWSON,P. F: #1661

EXHIBIT C13. OUTGOING CORRESPONDENCE.

Hello, Polly.

You are no longer answering my phone calls (karma), and I don't have an email on file. so I'm doing something I have not done in a long time. I'm not even sure if my printer still works, but I'll find out in a few minutes. I think I owe you an apology for over-reacting to the situation that transpired in my office. Honestly, that's not the first time it has happened, believe it or not. I'm not sure what prompted my pushback and the cancellation of your office visits. I suppose the other two women who tried it were not nearly as young and attractive as you are.

Yes, as you once alluded, my marriage is not as strong as it should be. There are complicating factors involved. Some of your suppositions were correct. I was angry that you could read me that well. That may have added to my over-reaction. I am human.

I've read every word of the journals you sent. Perhaps we should resume office hours at your convenience. Don't worry about cost. I'm encouraged by the State of New York to log thirty hours of Pro Bono work per calendar year, so it might as well go to you, right?

I have some questions. You have always been brutally honest about your past and your abuse. Yet, you very obviously cut approximately seventy pages from the end of your previous journal. The gouge the knife tip left is clearly etched in the back cover board of the journal.

If this was an attempt to pique my curiosity, consider it piqued.

Please contact REDACTED at your earliest convenience and set up an appointment. We have much to discuss.

Best,

James Weintraup, M.D.

JULY 2009

The air conditioning in Mr. Jack's minivan had probably not worked years ago, the first time he arrived at The Farm. That day had been cold, Pryn remembered. They had not been at The Farm very long. Pryn's plan to avoid testing out of her GED folded along with a dozen other plans and schemes. But Belle sincerely struggled with her studies. Mr. Jack had his work cut out for him.

Belle finally passed the GED test on her third attempt. Pryn knew it was now-or-never. She wedged behind the driver's seat and covered herself with the industrial tarp she had strategically placed there almost a year before. Mr. Jack didn't even see it. It was just more clutter in his POS van.

His POS van with no air conditioning.

The heat was brutal. Pryn almost blew her cover and sat up, once she was sure she was several miles past the point where the ruts in The Farm easement turned into highway pavement.

She was sure that she could either charm or sex her way into Mr. Jack not turning around and driving her back. There was nothing in it for him anymore. He was done tutoring Belle. And he was a "normal," as Eula referred to those people who were not captive to an incestuous breeding cult.

The fear that kept her head down was not for her own safety. She feared what Nick or Daddy or one of the minions of The Family would do to Mr. Jack if he was a willing participant in her escape.

Pryn had no money in her pockets. She had no pockets in the skirt she wore and no purse. She gripped two bananas she lifted from the kitchen in Cabin Two, the sum of her worldly fortune. Two bananas: The pension for the miles of hard cocks she'd sucked and the gallons of come she had swallowed, and all the brutal piston fucks that had pounded ripples through her teenage ass cheeks.

Two bananas.

If she stuck one of them up her ass, she'd truly come full-circle in her journey as a kept slut.

Thinking this, Pryn almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Instead she lay low and waited for whatever came next. What came next was a gas station. She heard the van stop. She heard Mr. Jack whistling to himself. Pryn heard Muzak coming from a bad speaker and then "Pump Five! Please prepay first!"

Then the sound of the nozzle thumping into the car. Then nothing. Pryn peeked out from under the tarp. She lifted up and carefully peered out the open back window. Mr. Jack wasn't there. Pryn allowed herself to lift up farther. She could see Mr. Jack's back inside the C-store. He was looking at a magazine rack.

Now was Pryn's chance. She just needed to jump behind the wheel and drive away. Drive until she was safe, if that was possible. Drive where The Family and men with guns could not find her. Perhaps Mars.

There was only one problem. Pryn didn't know how to drive. After the Maester came to The Farm the first time, there was no more discussion of driving lessons. There were no more walks by herself in the woods. There was no more running for exercise. Pryn's thighs had gone thick as the muscles atrophied into fat.

"You can do this, Pryn," she said to herself. She crawled into the front seat. "You can do this. If Eula can do it, you can do it. It's not hard. Idiots drive every day and you are not an idiot."

Pryn reached down to find the seat latch and then moved it closer to the steering wheel. She thought about getting out of the car and removing the gas pump nozzle, but that seemed unbearably risky. Surely it would snap when she sped away. Pryn reached for the ignition key. It was gone.

"Oh fuck," Pryn's forehead bounced off the top of the steering wheel. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Hey, Precious, what's wrong?" The male voice in Pryn's ear made her flinch so hard that she momentarily came up out of the chair.

"I thought that was you! How the hell are you, Pryn? How's yer mom?" It was Verhagen. Tom Fucking Verhagen was standing next to Mr. Jack's van with that big stupid grin smeared across his face. "You're lookin' lovely, Pryn."

Pryn blinked. She couldn't process it. Verhagen. Verhagen. Verhagen was standing right there next to her.

"Wha- wha- what are your doing here?" Pryn whispered.

"Southern Indiana is part of my territory, Pryn. I was making a sales call to Logansport Municipal. That old coal-fired plant they have hasn't bought anything from us in a decade, but I was feelin' lucky and hey! They bought some scrubber units! I thought I hit the jackpot, and then I luck out and see a beauty from the old neighborhood! I should go inside and buy a lottery ticket! Today is my day!"

Pryn turned to the C-store. Mr. Jack was paying for something at the checkout.

"I need a ride!" Pryn said.

"Sure, but what about your car?"

"It isn't my car," Pryn said. "Please!"

Verhagen looked into the C-store. "Oh oh! You fighting with your boyfriend or somethin?"

"Yes!" said Pryn. "I need to get out of here now. Please, can I ride with you?"

"Well, I guess," said Verhagen. "But won't your boyfriend freak out when you disappear?"

Pryn pushed the door open. "He beats me. Please help me. I need help. Please, Mr. Verhagen, take me with you."

"Way-ull..." Verhagen's back went stiff. "If some asshole is hurting you, maybe I should have a little man-to-man with him first."

"No!" Pryn said. "Where's your car?"

"The Audi TT."

"C'mon. He's got a gun. He's dangerous. Please! Let's go now."

Verhagen looked back at the C-store. "Well, okay. Get in the car."

There was only one place that Pryn did not want Verhagen to take her. She did not want to go back to his house in Louisville. That's where he insisted on taking Pryn until he could sort out her fictional drama.

Pryn thought returning to the old neighborhood was an amateur move. It's what Nick would expect her to do. It's what the goons from The Family would expect her to do. She obviously didn't have a pot to piss in. Her first move would be to re-establish contact with an old friend. She had to eat. She had to seek shelter.

Verhagen was always a harbinger of good bad news. He saved her bacon by being in the right place at the right time. Now he was going to obliviously deal her right back into the mouth of the beast, thinking he was saving her.

Verhagen ordered a pizza with his phone and cracked a beer. Pryn leaned on his kitchen table, stumbling through a pathetic, meandering lie about why she could not call her mother for help (gone back to Russia) and her father was away on assignment with the oil company (true, actually) and how she was staying with a friend of the family after their house burned down and his son seemed like a good guy, but turned out to be an abusive creep.

Verhagen sipped his beer and nodded. And nodded. And nodded.

The pizza girl arrived and Verhagen served Pryn a paper plate full of hot slices. She was ravenous. Verhagen tried to give her a beer, but all Pryn wanted was water.

After the feeding frenzy, Verhagen leaned back in his kitchen chair and looked at Pryn over the top of his beer bottle.

"Yaknow, your mother used to tell me tall tales like the line of bullshit you just tried to play on me," Verhagen said quietly. "But I figured it out. She was a liar. A lying cocktease. I thought she was special, but she wasn't. She was just a fucking cocktease."

Pryn blinked. Verhagen's emotional temperature began a low simmer.

"I never held that against you, though, Pryn. Never blamed the sins of the cocktease mother on the sexy young daughter. But now I see that you two aren't much different. I don't know what's up with you, but I know you're lying. I can also tell that you're up against a wall. You're fucked. You look like a scared rabbit searching for a briar patch. So what does that make me? The Big Bad Wolf? Is that it? 'Cause I'm all out of patience with you and I'm not going to eat another plate of shit from another cocktease Reynolds whore. You've got two choices, Pryn. You can get out of my house this instant and not come back. Or you can get your clothes off and shake that ass upstairs into my bed. What's it going to be?"

Pryn considered how long she could last on the streets of Louisville with no money before The Family found her.

She stood and unbuttoned the clasp of her skirt and let it fall to the linoleum.

It was an astonishing mystery how Pryn had made it to her age -- raped several times a week since the age of twelve -- without taking a hard fucking in her asshole. Verhagen put an end to that streak. He went straight from a brutal face fucking to jamming his engorged cock head through Pryn's rosebud. It hurt in a weird way. Pryn was immune to physical pain, but the nerves in her asshole seemed to have a hotline to the pain receptors in her brain. Verhagen was not gentle. He had a grudge against whatever transpired with Oksana, and Pryn was his payback. He pounded her pink hole hard and for a long time before he spermed it.

In the morning, he did it again. Verhagen called in sick to work and then fucked Pryn missionary, jamming his tongue into her throat as he short thrusted and grunted. His thick gold rope necklace rudely flayed Pryn in the face as he leaned over to rut her, bathing her in his dripping sweat.

In the afternoon he fucked Pryn's sore and puckered ass again, this time missionary with her knees pushed back into her ears while he jammed his fingers into her upturned cunny. The whole time Verhagen sawed in and out of Pryn's bottom he belittled her and called her a slut and a whore. He called her the slut daughter of a cockteaser. Pryn knew how to take the abuse. She knew how to mewl and offer Verhagen the vulnerability he craved in his women.

It worked. Verhagen pulled out and pushed Pryn into the floor on her knees, porno style. "Stick out that tongue, slut," he growled. Verhagen gripped the base of his cock and tugged thick ropes of sperm onto Pryn's outstretched tongue. "Don't swallow, slut," he hissed. "Don't swallow. Hold it. Hold it, slut daughter of a cockteaser." Verhagen flogged his log until it ran dry. "Okay, now eat my load, slut bitch."

Pryn gulped the sperm and spit bubbling in her mouth. Like Verhagen, it was bitter and unpleasant.

Verhagen's mobile phone rang. He answered it naked, still panting from unloading his balls on Pryn's face. "Tom. What? Hey. Why did--? No, that's not right. I signed the 780s and the entire tax portfolio. I delivered it on a platter. Oh, that lyin' bastard. Yeah. Okay. I'll come in and do it in front of Mike. Okay. Be there in thirty."

Verhagen said nothing to Pryn. He unclipped his gold necklace and dropped it in a drawer next to his bed. "I'm going to grab a shower. Don't go anywhere."

After Pryn heard Verhagen splashing in the shower, Pryn lifted off her knees and walked around Verhagen's bedroom. She opened the drawer in the nightstand. Verhagen had a lot of jewelry for a man. He had a dozen gold necklaces that each looked big enough to bridal a horse. He also had big man rings with large diamonds. Pryn whistled. The smallest diamond looked to be four karats.

"Hey, what are you doing, Snoop?"

Pryn turned. "Just looking."

"Yeah," Verhagen patted his hair with a towel. "I bet. I hate it when women snoop. I've got to run into the office for a couple hours. You're going to stay locked out on the back patio while I'm gone."

"Okay," Pryn said. She wanted more than anything to leave, but she wouldn't get very far with no money.

"I thought that was you! Pryn Reynolds!" Troy Walker's head leaned over Verhagen's chain link gate.

Pryn stood off the hard iron bench from which she'd been trying to calculate if her situation had improved or degraded. Same sex captive; Different city. "Troy? You cut your hair!"

"Yeah. It was time for a new look." Troy reached over and flipped the latch to let himself into Verhagen's back yard. "Wow. It's really you! Margie said that Tom had another one of his plastic rock hookups back here, but when I looked out the window, I thought, 'Damn. That looks like Pryn Reynolds.' And it was! You! Back on Twilly Court!"

"Plastic rock hookups?"

"Yeah," Troy smiled. "Tom, well.... You know. He's a p-hound. He's always got women coming and going. Sometimes he tells them to go in the house using the key under the plastic rock there." Troy pointed.

Pryn reached down and turned the plastic rock upside down to find the key.

"So what are you doing at Verhagen's place?" Troy asked, "Surely you two aren't..."

"Oh no," Pryn blushed. "Verhagen? Please! He's kind of a creep. I'm just supposed to pick some insurance papers he was holding for my mom."

"Oh. How is she?"

"Same."

"Are you okay, Pryn? I mean, you look great. But something seems wrong. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Pryn slouched. "You always could read me."

"You were always keeping secrets."

Pryn nodded. "You have no idea. Hey. You drive, right?"

"Sure."

Pryn pulled the key from the lock. "I need some help."

"Name it."

"I need you to run me by a pawn shop so I don't have to bug Mr. Verhagen when he gets home from work."

"Okay," Troy shrugged.

"And then I need you to take me to a bus station."

Troy's eyes narrowed. "Holy shit. How much trouble are you in?"

"Please?"

"Anything," Troy said. "Anything you need, Pryn. I'm your man."

"I'm going to just grab the papers for my mom so I don't have to wait for Mr. Verhagen to get home. I'll be right back and we can go."

"Kay. I'll get my keys and meet you out front."

"You are not going to tell me where you are going, are you?" Troy asked. It was dark and they were waiting for the Greyhound to arrive at the satellite pickup location.

"I can't, Troy. I'm so sorry."

"I understand. Kind of. You're in a shitload of trouble."

Pryn nodded.

"I could tell. Nobody travels without any luggage. You don't even have a purse. Wherever you were before you came back to Louisville, you left in a hurry. This is probably not the kind of trouble that you are in," Troy said, "but just in case it's super-duper bad trouble, I know this guy. I met him at Auburn. He has mad graphic skills. He can help you become somebody else. He works out of Birmingham, but he knows other guys in his 'craft.' He knows somebody almost anywhere. They all connect on an online Darknet forum. I did him a favor once at college and he gave me a free pass to have him ply his magic. Hell, I'm never going to need a new identity. I'm going to Law School." Troy finished scribbling a name and number on an old napkin. "But maybe Pryn Reynolds needs to die. Use this number when you get where you are going. I'll call and tell Jerry that I'm passing my favor credit to you."

Pryn hugged Troy hard. "Why are you so good to me?"

Troy hugged back. "I always thought you were kind of special. I never got over you."

Pryn couldn't stop herself from crying.

Troy combed his fingers through Pryn's hair. "You broke my heart, did you know that?"

Pryn nodded. "Troy, honey, you have done more to keep my heart whole than any other human being on the planet." Pryn sniffed. "Did you know that?"

"Your ride is here," Troy tilted his head at the bus moving toward them through the empty strip mall parking lot.

"I'll never forget you," Pryn snuffed.

"Maybe one day it will all work out," Troy said, his lips forming the trademark Troy Walker grin.

"Maybe one day." Pryn wiped her eyes and bolted from the car.

060514: DAWSON,P. F: #1661

EXHIBIT C17. OUTGOING CORRESPONDENCE.

Detective Wallace:

We seem to be having a hard time syncing up via telephone. I assure you I am not a crackpot and I may have valuable information to help you resolve the disappearance of Thomas Upton Verhagen back in the autumn of 2009. Surely we can connect beyond voicemails in a matter of this importance. I've enclosed my personal mobile phone number to speed the process.

Best,

James Weintraup, M.D.

JUNE 2014

Pryn walked slowly through the noisy farmer's market. She looked at a case full of organic cheeses and tried to talk down the vendor wearing a corno horn necklace to a price she could justify. She blinked her eyes and made them big. It didn't work. Pryn smiled and moved toward a fruit vendor who had avocados the right color.

Her phone rang. A rare call from Joanie.

"Hey J," Pryn said.

"Hey P," Joanie said. Her voice was softer than Pryn had heard in a while. That meant Joanie wanted something. "My guy is coming over tonight."

"To our place?"

"Yep."

"That took long enough," Pryn said. "I'll grab some stuff and clear out. Is this an overnight? Do I need to get a hotel room?"

"No no, slut. Don't be like that. It's your place too. You don't have to leave. I want you to meet him."

"Oh. Okay. That'd be nice."

"Maybe you could cook one of your fabulous dishes." Joanie said.

"Ah," Pryn grinned. "So that's why I'm invited."

"No no no. I really want you to meet him. He's bugging me to meet you. Can we bury the hatchet, Polly?"

"Sure," Pryn said. "I'm at the uptown Farmers as we speak. I'll grab some good produce. You can pretend you cooked it."

"You are a doll."

"I am," Pryn said. "When's he coming by?"

"Er... Well that's the rub, Polly. He didn't want to pay for a hotel if he's staying with me tonight. And I'm caught up with one of the liquor monkeys at the Club. I gave Charles my key. He's already there."

"In our apartment?"

"It's okay. He's not a panty drawer creep. I promise. I should be there by seven. Please don't fuck him, Polly. Please."

"Shut up," Pryn laughed. "I promise not to fuck him until at least 7:15, so don't be late."

"Deal," Joanie said and hung up.

The door to the apartment was unlocked. "Hello!" Pryn called. "Are you here? Anybody?" There was nothing. "Charles? Are you here?" Pryn bristled that Joanie's boyfriend went back out without locking the door.

Pryn set her cloth market totes on the small kitchen counter. The toilet flushed, startling her.

"Charles?" Pryn called. "You scared the crap out of me." Pryn unloaded the veal cuts and opened the fridge to grab the Worcestershire she needed for the marinade. Pryn looked over the refrigerator door and dropped the bottle on her foot. Her eyes could have gone no wider. Her bladder flexed involuntarily.

The ultimate non-sequitor: A young girl, perhaps seven or eight. She wore a peacock party dress and her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect ringlets. Pryn's throat wanted to say, "Hello?" but words would not form. The little girl looked at Pryn with soft curiosity.

He stepped out from Joanie's bedroom.

"Nicolai," Pryn whimpered. She looked back at the girl and her pulse quickened.

"It's really her," Nick said. He looked so much older. "Meg, say hello to your mother."

"Hello. Are you really my mom? My real mom?"

Pryn looked at Nick. "How..."

Nick shrugged. "Is that important? You knew we'd find you sooner or later. Once we found Verhagen, we connected the dots to the Walker kid. He put up more of a fight than Verhagen did. The bus schedule took us from there. The Family has a crazy amount of resources at their disposal, Prinadlez. It wasn't easy, but you knew we'd find you sooner or later."

Pryn nodded. "You didn't hurt Troy, did you?"

"Naw. Not much. He didn't fuck you, so I didn't have to get too rough. We found your underwear in Verhagen's trophy drawer. He didn't fare so well."

Pryn nodded and looked at the beautiful little girl.

"I got her back," Nick smiled. "I told you I would."

"What did you do?" Pryn asked.

"I had to trade Ressa to the South Africans, I'm afraid. And I still owe something to the Danish that I'm going to have to work out later. Hopefully wetwork and no more horse trading." Nick crossed and stood behind the girl, keeping a distance that gave the illusion of safety. "And now it's time for you to come home, Prinadlez. You. Me. Eulanne. Meg. Eulanne and I have a girl named Daisy and a boy on the way. A prince. Now we need you to make us whole. To make a real family."

"But..." Pryn stammered, "Joanie..."

"Yeah," Nick shrugged. "Sorry about that. Joanie is an unfortunate pawn in this. Your fuckbuddy Braden is out of The Family in San Francisco. I wasn't going to let anybody outside The Family sex you and live to tell about it. He confirmed it was you. When he said you fucked like a corpse until he dommed you, there was no doubt it was really you. I found you, but I knew there were still loose ends. I needed to follow you for a while. Joanie was my way in to bugging the apartment and tracking your movements until I could clean up." Nick nodded at a pile of brown accordion folders on the couch.

"What are those?" Pryn asked.

"Those are your files from the shrink," Nick said. "He won't be needing them any more."

"Oh god," Pryn covered her face with her hands.

"It was quick," Nick said. "Don't worry. He didn't feel a thing."

"Oh god," Pryn repeated.

"I can look past you running away from me," Nick said. "But I'll be honest with you, Pryn. You told our family secrets to a stranger. There must be a harsh reckoning for the ultimate transgression. But you already know that."

Pryn nodded.

"Now," Nick said, "I'm not going to force you into the car with your daughter watching. I can wait a couple days and catch you somewhere in the city. Me and my crew from The Family can ship you home in a wooden box with air holes in it. Like an animal. We can do that. But I'd rather you come with me because you want to, Pryn. I'd rather you come with me so you can be a mother to your beautiful daughter. Your beautiful proper daughter. It took me a long time, but I understand why Dad never collared you. Your spirit. Your spirit is what makes you beautiful. But, Pryn... You know you're never going to be whole until you're owned. It's who you are. It's what you need."

Pryn nodded slowly.

"Little Meggy is already involved in gymnastics." Nick rubbed the little girl's shoulders and smiled at her scalp with paternal pride. "Her coach says she's excellent and gifted, just like her mother," Nick said.

Nick may as well have punched Pryn in the stomach. She tilted forward with the impact of Nicks words against her soul. Pryn raised her index fingers into a steeple in front of her lips and closed her eyes.

"Nicolai," Pryn whispered. "We both know I'm coming with you, whether I want to or not. But if you will make one solemn promise to me, I will come with you willingly and I will devote every hour of my every day to you as my husband and my owner. But I need that promise from you first.

Nick blinked patiently.

"Whatever Meghan's dream is, whatever her talent is..." Pryn opened her eyes into a defiant stare-down with Nick and spat her words. "...she be allowed to follow that dream as far as it takes her."

Nick blinked again while he considered this. "Okay," he said.

"Promise me," Pryn hissed.

"Prinadlez, I promise you, to my dying breath. Our girl can follow her dream as far as it takes her as long as she stays in the family."

Pryn squinted so hard that tears gushed down her cheeks. She nodded rapidly.

Nick squatted beside the little girl and whispered in her ear. "Meg, baby, Go hug your mother."

The red haired girl looked uncertain. She took a step toward Pryn and stopped.

Meg took another step and stopped.

Pryn lifted her palms, stepped forward, and did not stop until her arms closed firmly around her entire world.