Deedee stood at the curtained window of her bedroom, her iPhone in her hand, a wonderfully curved, soft plastic dildo clamped tightly in her throbbing vagina and watched her lovely older sister kill their father at the side of the pool.
Margo emptied her little Beretta into Roger Morgan, the CEO and majority owner of Morgan Oil, at point-blank range, and Deedee could see that there were spots of their father's blood on her sister's new, white bikini as she snapped in another 7.65 cartridge from her purse. The girl watched, mesmerized as her father's body bobbled on the blue waters of the pool, staining the water, and Margo went to the pool house and killed poor Jose, the boy who brought them drinks and lotions with three close-range shots to the head.
"Damn," said Deedee aloud for Jose had been fun in bed, and she had spent hours teaching him how to lick her properly.
Deedee took one more picture as she watched her sister throw her gleaming pistol out into the Bay and then stalk back to the house, smiling. She saw her sister find her cell and make a call, she assumed to 911.
By the time the police arrived, Margo had on a Dior wraparound sunsuit and a silk cover-up and was loudly distraught with a wonderful story of masked gunmen. Deedee went to her sister's bathroom and retrieved the bloody bikini and put it in a plastic bag. Then she sat and looked at the photos in her iPhone and smiled.
She retrieved the curved dildo and slipped it back in place and did her morning Kegel exercises as she decided what to do next.
The girls' brother was an institutionalized drug-ruined wreck who had been declared incompetent by the courts. Margo would become the head of the multi-billion dollar oil empire her grandfather had built.
Deedee would have to finish high school, she decided, and then move to avenge her father, her long-time lover, and take control.
Shortly after the funeral 22-year-old Margo Morgan made herself the president and chief operating officer of Morgan Oil. Her first action was to fire all five of her father's mistress-secretaries, pay them a bonus and have them barred from the property.
Her second was to hire her lesbian lover as her personal assistant and to arrange to have the family that provided both her brother and her father with recreational drugs eliminated. That required five murders by an IRA offshoot and a major fire and cost her more than a million which was written off in the advertising account which insisted that all the company's profits were plowed back into research and development.
Deedee meanwhile returned to her posh private school and finally succeeded in seducing her handsome English teacher, copulating with him in his home several times and then sending pictures of them making love to his wife after carefully placing her little phone on the dresser while she undressed. She was especially proud of the sound quality of the short video. The son-of-a-bitch had called her cute and made her suck him.
Deedee had been initiated by her handsome father when she was barely fourteen, and he had taught both positions and techniques to give and receive sexual pleasure and visited her bed on a weekly schedule.
By the time she was sixteen and watched her sister commit murder, she had enjoyed a number of eager lovers including poor Jose as well as his predecessor whose name she could not remember. In her senior year her most constant fuck-buddies were a Princeton junior, her music teacher and the family pediatrician.
The Monday after she graduated and received an Aston Martin V-8 Vantage roadster from her sister as a present, she came to her sister's office with her attorney, a man she had fucked several times in his office and promised to marry, and demanded that her sister give her 50% of her stock and make her vice-president and CFO of the corporation.
Her sister then displayed on her iPad the series of pictures she had taken of Margo killing their father and the pool boy.
"What do you want for those?" Margo asked, slumping back in her big chair and looking disgusted.
Deedee smiled. "I think I'll take it all, bitch, all your stock, 67% of Morgan Oil. I'll keep you on as CEO, pay you minimum wage, but I'll be president. How's that? And I'll expect you to eat me every Friday."
"And him?" Margo asked, pointing to the lawyer.
"I own him. He's a pedophile with a taste for little boys. If I wish, he will kill himself right here and now."
"Is that true?" Margo asked the man.
He nodded as a tear ran down his cheek.
"Get out," Deedee said curtly. "This is now my office. You may take your tame doxy with you, right down the hall, that empty office where poor Mr. Philips use to work before you bought him out. What did that cost us?"
"Forget it," Margo snarled. "No 16-year-old bitch is going to take over my company."
"Now," said Deedee to her cowering lawyer. They gabbed Margo by the elbows, dragged her to the floor-to-ceiling widow, levered it open and shoved her out. Screaming and waving her arms, she fell sixteen floors to the concrete apron below. The young lawyer, his heart beating rapidly, turned to face the lovely Deedee, who had promised him wonderful things, even marriage. He saw her smile and then he cried, "No!" as she shoved him backward out the tall window and he fell, cartwheeling, to his death.
Deedee sat on the soft leather chair and picked up the phone. "Call 911. Say there's been an accident," she told the woman who responded.
Once things settled down, Deedee's first hire was her Princeton lover on the day after he graduated. She made him her PA, paid him $200,000 and spent hours teaching him cunnilingus.
That was when I came into the picture and learned all of the above from Deedee as I drove her about and made love to her. In six months, I owned her. She would do absolutely anything to have me drive my thick rod into her and pound her until she screamed and begged.
But I was very careful. I recorded all our conversations in the Rolls, and she knew I was not to be discarded as she had gotten rid of some lovers, including her boy form Princeton after she discovered him dallying with a girl from the secretarial pool. She hated to fire him because his tongue was so wonderful. As she had asked, I disposed of his body in three different states and gave her his pickled penis which she kept in a lava lamp in her office. I wont tell you how she killed him; it's much too gross.
Finally one Monday, after three or four months of increasingly heated couplings, I decided to make my move. I was making about a thousand a day, $350,000 a year, but there was a lot more to be made, millions more. When I brought her to a squealing climax in her office chair, I got to my feet, wiped my mouth and sat on the side of her big desk.
"I'd like to be CEO and own a share of the company, say a third, about half of your share."
"I'm serious. I've taped your confessions of murder. I know what happened to your sister and, of course, to poor Bruce."