Owning Cousin Stacey
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2019 by Mark Gander

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Simon, a schoolteacher in his late 20s, returns to his hometown in East Texas and finds that his cousin Stacey is married, but very much into him, anyway. He also learns that he inherited a butt-load of wealth and property from his uncle, including ownership of Stacey.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Mult   Consensual   Mind Control   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Crime   Magic   Sharing   Slut Wife   Wife Watching   Incest   Cousins   BDSM   MaleDom   Rough   Spanking   Group Sex   Harem   Orgy   Polygamy/Polyamory   Swinging   Anal Sex   Analingus   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   Oral Sex   Petting   Pregnancy   Squirting   Teacher/Student   Nudism   Revenge   Royalty   Violence  

I don’t know what I expected to wake up to, but it wasn’t a gun in my face, I can tell you that much. Nor was it Dad holding the gun, a Smith and Wesson .375 magnum revolver, to be precise. Why was Barry Ezekiel March back, and why was he armed, pointing a fucking hand cannon right at me? I tried to get up, but Dad shook his head. When I tried to speak, the gag in my mouth stopped me. I was also handcuffed to a chair, as were Stacey, Ellie, and Trish. Duane and Vince held guns of their own and grins on their faces.

“Like my sons, guys? Yep, I’m their father, birth father, in fact. Long story on that. After I suspected that you weren’t really mine, I started a secret, second family with another woman, a true, spiritual marriage with a godly woman who understood my dilemma. She became my real wife in the eyes of God. I just had to wait to be divorced to officially wed her. I tired of waiting for the chance, so I simply left once I learned for sure that you weren’t my son, Simon. I walked out the door and never looked back.

“I had Scriptural grounds for divorce, but I let your mother pursue the ‘abandonment’ deal. It simplified things. She couldn’t even sue me for child support, that was the beauty of it. I’m really proud of my real sons, Vince and Duane. Oh, I’m afraid that the marriage isn’t legal, for obvious reasons. A necessary deception for the greater good of putting an abomination like you out of my way as to what I want. It’s really quite simple.

“I’m not even taking a huge amount of your money. I just want a donation that constitutes back child support, with compound interest, for the years that I fed, housed, and clothed your sorry ass when you weren’t my boy. You never were. I can’t get that from Troy, your true father, but I can from you,” the man that I once thought my father curtly informed me.

“So, you’re back, the great preacher, and you’re actually just a burglar. No better than a common criminal. I might have known. You Christians are all alike. All preachy, high, and mighty, but in the end, you’re just thieves, liars, and hypocrites. I’m glad that I’m Jewish, because what would Jesus say to you? That he’s proud of you? I don’t think so. You really want to blame a guy who didn’t choose his parents and rob him because his parents may or may not have defrauded you? Really? How petty does one get?” Stacey scoffed at Barry March, alias Barry White (yes, he used that particular alias ... an insult to a great singer).

“You’re only half-Jewish, but your mother did convert, so there’s that. Anyway, you’re proud of being part of the rabbinical synagogue of Satan? How fitting! It’s okay, this man here is the Antichrist, and you’re evidently his lover. On the other hand, Vince isn’t your legal husband, after all, as your marriage is null and void, so you’re not an adulteress. As for theft, I prefer to think of this as restitution for my lost wages spent in providing for another man’s bastard brat, the cuckoo in my nest. I refuse to be a cuckold in any sense, including providing for Troy Flanagan’s spawn.

“I’d try to kill him, but he’s the Antichrist, so he’d just come back, I’m sure of it. And I don’t need much more money, not with the Rapture clearly close. Just enough that I won’t need a job for a while. Well, a secular job, that is. I’ve had plenty of those. I want to focus on my ministry, full-time. Irony in taking those necessary funds from the Devil’s disciple, but so be it. It all belongs to God, anyhow, and I doubt that either of you have tithed to a real church.

“By the way, how does it feel to be a sister-fucker, my former son? Proud of it? You’re no better than the worst white trash, fucking your own damn flesh and blood, just like your father. It suits the Antichrist, though, as the Book of Daniel calls him a ‘vile person,’ which you definitely are. As you can see, you mistakenly let Vince and Duane into your house, and they were, pardon the phrase, Trojan horses for you. Get it, Trojan man?” my legal father mocked me now, with his real sons laughing at his stupid jokes.

“What are you taking, then?” Stacey asked the guy, since I couldn’t say a thing.

“Oh, that’s easy enough. I want several of these expensive items. You won’t report them stolen. You’ll let me hock them for whatever money I need. Once that’s done, I’ll have more than enough venture capital for my new church and TV and radio, even internet, ministry. I can preach the Gospel full-time. As the Reverend Barry White, of course. No more talk of Barry March. He’s legally dead, anyway. I killed him off years ago. Pastor Barry White shall be everyone’s favorite preacher! He’ll make Jesus hip again! Hallelujah!

“I thank you in advance for this generous contribution to our church, and when you’re in the Lake of Fire, I’ll try to feel some sympathy and empathy for your suffering and torment. It won’t be easy, given that you’re the Antichrist and will get many who reject the Gospel that I preach to join you in that awful place, but I’ll try,” my so-called father announced as Vince, Duane, and he took whatever they could carry in their sacks.

 
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