Chapter 13

Good old video surveillance ... I had webcams everywhere, including the basement -- and they'd already gotten me some juicy blackmail material. I went through the bathroom to the master bedroom and closed the door and fired up the system there to take a look. It wasn't as good as my command station in the office, but it would do to let me see just about any camera set; I triggered the basement camera.

"You don't have to," were Michael's first words after the audio came up. They were sitting side-by-side on the couch, jacking each other off.

"I know," Pete replied, not looking away from the video they were playing. "It's okay, though, since there aren't any girls around, right? It doesn't mean anything -- it's just better than beating off..."

"Yeah, okay." You could almost see Michael's thought process -- 'It's not like we haven't done it before... '

Pete leaned over and took Michael's cock in his mouth and Michael arched himself and threw his head back, hissing in pleasure. I don't think he lasted ten seconds before grunting "Shit! Shit! Shit!" and grabbing Pete's head so he didn't go anywhere while he shot off in his mouth. I waited to see if Michael would return the favor -- and he did, albeit reluctantly; Pete was even quicker to get off, probably due to the excitement. I shut things down and went off to shower.

When I came out, kids were scattered everywhere. Michael was out at the pool splashing around with Kate and Pete was downstairs. Karen was working on the rug in the living room. I went into the TV room and plopped down for a moment to see if anything worth watching was on before heading back to my office.

Frankly, there wasn't squat -- but before I could get up, Heather came in with a twisted expression on her face. "Can we talk?"

"Sure."

"I talked to Kate's mom. She says you're not forcing her to do anything."

"I'm not," I confirmed.

"I just watched you tell her what to do and I watched her act like she was a total slave!" Heather retorted. "Is what you have on her so bad she'll lie about it?"

I sighed. "I guess that's a simpler explanation than the truth ... Look, Honey, you may not be able to understand this, but some people LIKE to be bossed around. It takes the load off their shoulders. They do as their told, and they don't worry about the consequences -- it's all in the boss man's hands. If they're told to do something exciting that they would never have the guts to do on their own, that's even better. That's where Karen is. She does what I tell her -- willingly -- in return for my protection and some excitement. If I tell her to do wild and crazy things, it's a test -- a test she passes by doing what she's told without regard for the consequences, trusting that I won't put her in harm's way. She gets pride out of it -- pride in her obedience and service. She gets to bask in the glow of my regard."

"What about the cage stuff and the spankings?" Heather asked.

"There has to be a stick to go with the carrot, Hon," I told her. "It isn't enough to deal only in the positive. For one thing, it helps her to focus if the only consequence she needs to worry about is how I'll punish her if she fails. If whatever it is I want from her seems to be a bit out there, she can fall back on the idea that I'll punish her -- severely -- if she gets chicken or lazy or fucks up. In some ways, it's the simple life."

"It's crazy!"

"It's definitely not mainstream," I agreed. "But you know what? I'll bet she told you she is EXTREMELY happy today."

"She didn't."

"Go ask her."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Do you remember that little incident with the tea in the kitchen?" I asked.

"Do I!? That's why I'm here!" Heather burst out.

"What caused that was Karen deciding to show me a new level of respect. I don't ask her to kneel up to me like that. That meant I had to accept it on the fly, so to speak, and integrate it into what we're doing. I was taken by surprise -- and we got into this dance while we got organized," I explained. "She didn't HAVE to do that -- but now she does. The point is, she GAVE me that service -- and that means I'm doing right by her."

"You acted like it was nothing..." Heather mused.

"That's one of the weird quirks of the situation. I can't act all thankful that she offers me her service -- I have to take it as my due. That, in turn, impels her to continue. If I made a fuss about it, it would sound like I didn't deserve it -- and ultimately, she would withdraw it -- and the respect that goes with it," I explained. "It's complicated."

"I'll say!" Heather rubbed her face. "What about Mom?"

"Your mother couldn't be more different," I told her. "Your mother pushes and complains and spins things her direction and argues -- until she's pressed directly. Then she goes on the defensive, but it's a delaying action. Basically, she breaks, but doesn't bend. She lets you win the battle, but then tries to pretend it never happened, as if that will get her the war. That, well, doesn't make her prime submissive material."

"So what are you doing?" Heather asked.

"Eventually, she stops arguing," I replied. "Of course, it goes faster if you have a bigger hammer. That's why I have the blackmail material -- it shortens the timeline."

"What do you want?"

"Your mother," I replied. "A more or less committed relationship -- as much as either of us can stand."

"But, don't you have Karen?" Heather blurted.

"Sooner or later, Karen will get tired of playing -- or I will -- or both. Dom/sub relationships tend to be unstable," I explained.

"Oh."

"Frankly, they're a little draining," I added. "I'll need something more normal to fall back on. Besides, Karen needs something to compare her status to, so she can judge whether she's being treated -- or mistreated -- properly."

"But, mom?"

"It works -- and she knows it. That's one reason she's ducking so hard -- she KNOWS it will work, for both of us! If I let her, she'll run for the nearest closet -- and hide there, hurting, wishing she had the guts to put herself out there and reap the rewards," I told her. "That's why I'm not letting her. Worst case, she can blame the whole thing on me, which absolves her of responsibility for having to put herself out there. In the end, if it makes it easier on her, it's worth it."

"What about other women?"

"What about them?" I replied. "I don't think I can be in Jean's face twenty-four by seven. If I do other shit, she has a chance to distance herself and feel like she has more control. Besides, I like variety."

"Like me," Heather accused.

"Or not," I countered. "Hon, I don't see us dating. I don't see me turning up in your bedroom unannounced twice a week. All I'm offering is something you might call a service -- a fairly comfortable and pleasurable defloration. You can do what you like about this -- it's an offer, not a demand. But given the number of quirks your mother has, making your initiation into sex as smooth as possible probably has a LOT of long-term benefits." I eyed her. "I don't think I'll ever bring this up again -- it seems to raise your hackles too much. You can talk to Kate about it -- or her mother -- or, of course, yours. The offer is out there, but I'm not going to go into it again -- I'm tired of justifying it. If you come see me because you have a real interest in the idea, we'll discuss it again -- but I'm not going to try to sell you on it and I'm not going to justify it. Until and unless you bring it up again, the subject is closed."

Heather blinked and recoiled a bit -- I guess I got vehement. "Okay."

"So, are there any other subjects you would like to go into?" I asked.

"Um, not right now..."

"Sorry," I apologized -- more for form than anything else. "The door is always open -- that subject has just gotten to be tiresome." I got up and she took her cue and headed off -- and I headed on into my office and spent the next couple of hours working. I called a contractor I knew to have him come in to give me a quote on subdividing the basement further for Pete, among other things. He said he would stop around on Wednesday.

About three, Karen stuck her head in the door diffidently. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah, come here a minute." It was best not to dismiss her out of hand, so I had her kneel up beside me so I could fondle a tit while I worked. "Do you need a nap or anything before you go to work? Your home life isn't to get in the way of your livelihood."

"No, I'm fine..." Karen paused a moment before venturing, "Master."

"Be careful what you commit yourself to," I warned her. "Do you want to have to call me that in public? Under any circumstances whatever?"

"Yes," Karen replied, nodding.

"You know that I know that you're willing to take the risks involved," I chuckled. "You had a good time, didn't you? What was the best part?"

"Riding in the car, Master."

"Ignacio wasn't a good fuck?"

"That was good -- REALLY good -- but not because Ignacio was good."

"No," I agreed, "It was all about having to be a slut on command, wasn't it?"

"Uh huh."

"That will happen again," I told her. "Run along and make sure you're ready for work."

"Yes, Master!" She hopped up and toddled off happy, knowing I knew what got her juices flowing.

Karen sent Kate in about five to ask me about dinner; I told Kate that if her mother wanted to make herself indispensible around here, she could start by removing any requirement for me to think about where my next meal was coming from. That seemed to work for her.

Jean collected her brood at five-thirty without my noticing; they were gone when I sat down to dinner with my new family at quarter to six. Karen put it on the table and hit the door, headed for work. Pete and I hit the pool at seven-thirty; Kate had apparently had her fill earlier. But a few minutes later, Heather and Jean trooped in across the back yard wearing beach towels -- and nothing else, it turned out. Pete and I mixed the qualities of a pleasant host with decorum, letting them settle in without embarrassment. After a few minutes, Jean swam over to where I was farting around with a noodle -- one those colored foam floaters that look sort of like Technicolor pipe wrap. I was trying to do pushups against the buoyancy of one, held under water, if you must know... "Heather says you told her I'm a head case," she announced.

"Heather needs to discover what is and is not a privileged conversation," I retorted.

"Maybe." She dog-paddled a bit in place, then added, "Cletus, it's not going to work."

"Okay," I replied, shrugging.

"Okay?"

"I don't feel like arguing," I told her. "We can fight about it later when I do."

"What?" Her face screwed up. "You can't just walk away and then come back later and say things haven't changed!"

"Why not?" I asked. "You do."

"I DO NOT!"

"Oh? Do I own your ass?"

"NO!"

"Odd," I argued, "That's a totally different answer than the one you gave in the basement a couple of days ago."

"That was under duress!" Jean retorted.

"The situation has NOT changed!" I retorted, moving to trap her between myself and the pool edge. "Not one bit! If you think it has, you're mistaken!"

"Cletus! No!" Seeing the danger, she made to escape. "I'll scream!"

"I'll dunk you and you won't have the air to!" By then, I had her. She wriggled in my grasp, but she wasn't going anywhere. I leaned in and put my lips on her neck while simultaneously putting my hand under her butt and pulling it toward me -- and the little idiot wrapped her legs around me, trapping my cock against her vulva!

"Cletus..."

"Lie to me and tell me this doesn't feel good."

"It's rape, Cletus!"

"It is not! There is no penetration and those are your legs around me, not vice-versa! Assault, maybe..." I argued. "Besides, you avoided answering the question."

She sighed. "Is there any getting around you?"

"No. How long is it going to take you to discover that on your own, do you figure?"

"I don't understand what you think we have in common..."

"Our parts fit together -- want me to prove it?" I replied.

"Be serious!"

"I AM!" I replied, aggrieved. "Nothing less than my kind of bastard is going to get through that wall you have around you -- nice, non-persistent guys back off. That doesn't keep you from NEEDING someone in there -- even though you're scared of the consequences, and therefore don't WANT anyone. Besides, you have a weakness for my kind of bastard -- you know we can make you happy."

"Your kind of bastard also HURTS me -- terribly!" Jean countered. "I don't want that!"

"Then we work at arm's length," I argued, "and don't get all wrapped up in one another. You keep some independence, and I keep some independence and we just lean on one another occasionally to stay happy and balanced."

"You make it all seem so simple..."

"Work with me." She already was; she'd stopped fighting. We were holding each other. "You need a man for regular physical release and to rely on when shit gets too deep -- someone who doesn't insist that you bow the head. I ALREADY have a woman who bows the head -- I need something more conventional."

"Heather said something like that."

Things had settled down to the pair of us hanging off one another and talking -- and that's where I wanted it for now. I generated a non-threatening answer. "Karen is a special case -- she's not a love interest. In fact, that would fuck us up. She needs for me to be uncompromising."