The Novelist Pt. 03byNicequip©
Author's note: This story contains themes of incest and BDSM. This can't be read as a stand-alone story. I suggest starting with Part 1 to understand the story progression. Please comment and vote. I love all feedback.
Alexis finished straightening up in the kitchen and living room. She hadn't joined everyone else outside. She felt an overwhelming need to express to Sir that she didn't need to relax with the others. She wanted to make it clear that she took her position in this house seriously. Deep down she felt injured by the changes that he had outlined earlier. She realized now that she did want to be treated differently despite what she had told him. On some level, she still knew that she would be special to him, but her need to satisfy him had increased with the new rules. It wasn't about sexually satisfying him; rather it was about satisfying his need for order amidst chaos. She knew that this was one area that would allow her to stand out above the rest of the women.
Alexis thought about the last couple years that she had lived in his home. It was a wonderful time in her life. He made her feel special. She had been one of those people that floated from job to job never really feeling like anything suited her properly. Submitting herself to a man gave her a sense of worth for the first time. She wasn't sure if she would feel that way were it any other man. There was just something about Tom that felt right. She never thought it was his success that attracted her to him, although being successful was an attractive trait. It was some other quality, or maybe a few qualities working in concert together, that made him irresistible to her. She had never been jealous or upset by the other women in his life. She really did enjoy that kinkier aspect of her submission. Alexis was worried that her feelings for him were getting away from her, and she began to worry about what would happen if this submissive life came to an end. There was a new complication that she had to figure out, and she worried that it would be poorly received.
She was wiping down the dining room table when the phone rang. Alexis jerked upright at the sound of the interruption. The ringer hadn't been turned on in days, and the noise had startled her. She shuffled off into the living room looking for the receiver. It was 9:30pm and it seemed odd that someone would be calling so late. She found the tablet remote and used it to answer the phone. It only allowed her a speaker option.
"Good evening." She said as she answered the call.
"Who's this?" The voice slurred out through the speaker.
"This is Alexis. May I ask..."
"Is this Tom Bolden's number or not?" The voice retched.
"Yes it is." Alexis said taken aback by the rude voice on the other end. "May I ask who's calling?"
"It's his father. Put the little shit on the phone."
Alexis bristled realizing that this is the call Sir had been waiting for. He sounded drunk. She knew that Sir would not appreciate hearing from him in this condition. It wasn't her place to voice an opinion. She simply asked his father to wait a moment, pressed the mute button, and went out to the patio.
Alexis appeared in the doorway, and eyed Tom sitting a few feet away. Fran was nestled between his legs sucking and licking at his balls. He had a smile on his face, and it pained her to interrupt them. She quietly walked toward him holding the tablet and leaned over whispering in his ear.
Tom's eyes opened wide as Alexis' words registered. He jerked the tablet from her hand, and verified the number on the screen. He pushed Fran aside retreating to the kitchen. He set the remote on the counter and took a deep breathe. Then he hit the mute button.
"Well look who it is!" His father slurred into the phone. "Who was that answering your phone? I didn't know that Tommy had a girlfriend." His voice dripped with disdain.
Tom did his best to gather himself. His father had never been a heavy drinker, and he found it uncomfortable to speak to him in this state. He certainly didn't expect the call to start so contentiously. "I... I didn't know that you did either."
"Ha! Look how clever little Tommy is. What? Your old man isn't allowed to get some good pussy? What's wrong? Did mommy run out to California to cry to her little baby? I got a message from her cunt of a sister. I know she's there. Put her on the fucking phone."
Tom wanted to be angry, but the reality of everything was unexpectedly overwhelming. He had hoped that when he finally spoke to his father everything would just settle itself out. He had been waiting for this call. But now, he didn't recognize the person on the other end of the line. He was acting cruel and insensitive. Hearing his father's voice just made him want answers. He wanted to know how everything got so fucked up. At its core, Tom was still his son and he couldn't understand his father's cruelty. He was awash in unfamiliar emotions. For the first time in a very long time, Tom Bolden felt completely powerless and weak.
"I... but... Dad? Why are you doing this to her? To us?" The tears welled up in his eyes. "Why are you trying to hurt her and strip everything from her?" These weren't the words he had intended on saying when he finally spoke to him. These words just came out reflexively. In his mind he had planned to be calculated and take charge.
"Jesus Christ! How the fuck did I raise such a sissy? This is pathetic. Look at you whining... 'but, but, but'... 'oh how could you?'... I should have put my foot down when you said you were moving to LA to become another poor, faggoty writer. I don't owe you shit for explanations. I don't owe anyone anything. I'll live my life the way I want. And if your little prude bitch of a mother doesn't get on the phone or sit down with me soon, I'll make sure she's as penniless as you are."
Tom's voice quavered while he fought to hold on to his emotions. "What did I ever do to you? I thought that you..."
John Bolden cut him off in a dismissive snap. "Jesus! Shut the fuck up. You have her call me or I'm flying out there to raise high holy hell." With that he hung up the phone.
Tom stood with tears rolling down his cheeks. He was angry with himself for being so emotionally affected. He was upset over his inability to control the conversation. Mostly he was devastated by how little his father seemed to think of him. He stood with his hands braced on the edge of the counter. Tom just couldn't understand the change in his father. He had never been a violent or rude man. Something had snapped in him. It was far worse than he had originally assumed. He was furious with him, but he was also deeply pained by the reality of the situation. He looked up and saw Frank standing in the doorway. He'd heard the conversation.
Frank knew then that his mind was made up. He needed to help him. He thought that Tom's plan was unattainable, and he noted that despite the young man's intelligence he was thinking about the problem all wrong. Years of practicing law taught him that you didn't always need to out litigate your opponent; it meant you had to make them think you could out litigate them and scare them into a plea. You had to demoralize them. Now this was a more manageable goal that would still require his assistance, although it always stood a chance of failing.
"Tom?" Frank said quietly. He saw the young man look up at him with desperate eyes. "Listen to me. You have to crush him. We have to crush him. You heard what he said about you? He doesn't know who you are. He doesn't know what you've accomplished. We'll use it all against him. But... right now... I need you to get your head right."
Tom listened to Frank speak. He knew that he was right, but the pain of his father's words still agonized him. He was desperately grasping for some type of control over his emotions. Even Frank could see that they were overwhelming him. Everything had been surreal in the last two days, and he had not let the gravity of the situation weigh on him. It now felt like a crushing weight. Tom needed to break through his devastation and sorrow and move back toward feelings of anger. For any plan to work, he needed to channel his anger into resolve and vigilance. At this moment, he seemed very far from that end goal.
Frank walked sullenly back outside. He took a seat on the outdoor sofa and tossed back his glass of wine. Alexis came up and knelt down next to him. She knew something was wrong. She could see it in the look of consternation on his face. Fran looked worried as well. She hadn't heard the whole conversation but bits of it had carried out through the open door.
"Is he alright, Frank?" Alexis asked in dismay.
"I think that was a serious blow, Alexis." He said carefully. "He didn't take that very well."
"Is there anything I can do?" Alexis pleaded for some way to ease his pain. She didn't know how to help him.
Marie, Anne and Abby came walking down the path oblivious to the change in mood. Anne had been cleaning the last drops of her husband's cum from Abby's face. Marie sensed it first. She had become very attuned to Alexis' emotions.
"What's wrong?" Marie asked.
"Sir just spoke to your husband." Alexis said. "He was drunk. It was not a good conversation."
Marie's heart broke and she rushed toward the door to console her son. It was Frank that stood up and blocked her path. He would not let her through. He knew that the last person Tom needed to see at this moment was his mother.
"Please let me see him." She begged.
"Not you, Marie." Frank said sternly. "He needs to work through this on his own."
Frank guided her to the sofa and sat her down. Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words. It seemed that nothing in this house functioned without Tom's direction. All of the women, even Frank, needed his guidance. He was the driving force that breathed life into the whole dynamic. He was the one that made the lifestyle seem natural.
"Oh merda!" Francesca finally sighed out loud. She stood up and looked at the sad bunch. She took a few deep breathes and then brought her hands up to her breasts and twisted her nipples painfully hard. She scrunched her face as the pain shot through her breasts. Then she walked into the house to everyone's surprise.
Tom still sat in the same position resting up against the counter. His mind reeled as he tried to accept the deterioration of his family. His father had suffered some midlife crisis. His mother had broken down and submitted to her son. Tom wasn't sure if any of the choices that led him to this moment were the right ones. Maybe if he had told them about his success then none of this would have happened. Maybe his success would have reinvigorated their marriage. Maybe it would have given them something to be proud of together. He knew that it was useless to think of how things might have been different. It was what it was. It saddened him.
He looked up as he heard feet padding into the kitchen. Francesca had marched inside rather determined and headed in his direction. He didn't want to talk to her right now. He didn't want to talk to anyone at all. Tom just wanted to go to his bedroom and hide from everything.
Francesca walked right up beside him. He stood upright and looked at her gathering the strength to tell her to leave when, instead of kneeling down at his feet, she slapped him hard across the face.
"What the fuck!" Tom bellowed out so loudly that it alerted everyone on the porch. They gathered near the door close enough to see without being noticed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Francesca looked up at him again as his eyes narrowed in anger at her actions. She felt her stomach flutter as her nerves acted up in alarm. Then she took her hand and slapped it hard across his face again.
Francesca stomped her foot in her quintessentially, feisty Italian way, and stated in all seriousness. "Fuck me!" He looked at her and seethed. She banged her hand down on the counter next to him in a mini tantrum, much same way that she had when she first met Marie. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."
Tom's sadness vanished instantly as he reached forward grabbing onto each of her nipples and twisting them between his fingers. She squealed in pain even though she knew it was coming. Tom liked to torture her nipples when she misbehaved. He pushed her to her knees, hooked his fingers into her cunt and pulled her ass upward as he pushed her torso forward to floor. He took his bare foot and pressed it against her cheek squeezing her face into the ground.
"You insolent little slut!" He growled. "Is this what you wanted?"
Francesca couldn't move her face to look at him, but she shifted her glare to the corner of her eyes just enough to see him. "Yes, Sir. Precisamente!" The words came out distorted with his foot partially covering her mouth. Her agreement angered him more.
Tom reached up grabbing the only thing in his reach -- a wooden spoon. He pulled her ass up so high with the hand buried inside her pussy that her knees began to lift off the ground. He held out the spoon and battered her ass with an endless series of swats. It wasn't a preferred tool for the punishment, but he made up for the lack of sting with the quantity of blows. He made sure it reddened regardless.
Tom dropped his pants grabbing his erection. It looked solid and mean. He crouched down behind her and slammed himself into her incredibly hard. Francesca was only slightly moist from having his fingers inside her. She would have preferred that he open her up slowly. She was too stubborn a woman to let him hear her shriek. Her eyes went wide as he split her open. Her shock was only evident to the women on the porch who looked on in horror and amazement at the unusual act of defiance from the mature Italian woman.
Tom reached forward and grabbed a clump of her hair and pulled her head back. She could hear his deep, enraged breathes. He wrapped his left hand under her waist and slowly stood up with Francesca impaled helplessly in the air. He walked her forward and dropped her down onto the kitchen table, and began to fuck her with such force that she couldn't help but grunt as he plumbed her depths. Tom grabbed onto her ass spreading her olive toned cheeks and using the leverage to fuck her harder than he'd fucked any woman. It was so forceful that the table inched forward sliding across the floor with each thrust until it butted up against the far wall.
Francesca was certain that he would be brutal. Deep down she had been upset that the night had progressed without as much as an orgasm for her. She had been so thorough with his mother yesterday, and so careful to put together an exquisite meal for his guests. She felt that she deserved to be fucked. Not that she was displeased with the evening, but she was increasingly worried it wouldn't end the way she had hoped.
She was not going to let a phone call from his father get in the way of her well-deserved pleasure. Everyone had seemed so forlorn over his emotional reaction, but Francesca just did the only thing that occurred to her. She snapped him out of his sadness and ensured that she'd get her due. Francesca enjoyed a hard fucking. What she couldn't have known was just how hard it would be. Tom was not just fucking her hard because of her insolence. He was fucking out all the emotional turmoil in his heart. Francesca now wondered if she could handle it.
Her pussy began to gush with the continued onslaught. He was driving her toward an incredible orgasm. Each thrust was painfully hard, but his cock was stimulating her regardless creating a very conflicting set of sensations. When it finally washed over her she couldn't get out any words. She just squealed like a stuck pig. Usually he'd slow down after she came, but Tom just fucked her harder bringing her into a second and then a third. Francesca had never felt so dominated in her entire life. Finally, he grunted and stopped. She breathed heavily as she hung over the table.
Tom walked around the table grabbing her hair and shoving his cock straight into her throat. She gurgled and choked on his length as he forced it deep and assaulted her airway. Tom got off on hearing her struggle. 'Glug. Glug. Glug.' That was the only sound in the room apart from their labored breathing. She coughed up a thick, gooey strand of saliva that dripped obscenely from her mouth to his cock. Her eyes were watery smeared circles as she struggled to catch her breath. To Tom's surprise, no matter how hard he tried to make it difficult for Francesca, she still managed to stick out her tongue and rub the underside of his cock in an effort to please him. She kept her eyes upward looking at him, letting him know that it was okay. She was taunting him with her willingness to be used.
Tom still wasn't pleased. So he slid back around behind her and took his saliva covered cock and squeezed it into her tight asshole. Francesca finally howled as he stretched her ass. He began pumping her again. He had put in so much effort to brutalize each hole that he had worked up a solid sweat. She could feel the beads dripping from his face and landing on her back. He rarely fucked her ass, and it seemed particularly sensitive. She was building up to another orgasm. She didn't usually cum anally although she enjoyed getting fucked that way. Tom didn't say a thing. He just grunted and pounded into her. What started off as a small squeak from Francesca began to crescendo into a loud moaning expression of pain and pleasure. Tom pounded her harder still, refusing to relent even for a moment. Finally she exploded so hard that her pussy leaked onto the floor. He slammed into her a few more times and let out the most primal, guttural roar that echoed through the house. And then he pushed deep and drained his balls into her ass.
Tom stepped back still breathing heavily from the energy he had exerted. He admired his work. She was laid out limply, not moving except for the rise and fall of her chest. Her pussy drooled thick strands of her own cum. After a moment, he regained a steady breath. Dominating a woman made him feel calm. He finally felt like he was regaining control.
He looked toward the door seeing the onlookers. "Marie!" He shouted. "Come in here."
Marie nervously walked through the doors and approached her son. She was awestruck by how ravaged he left Fran. His body coated in a sheen of sweat. She dropped down to her knees looking up at him expectantly.
Tom reached down and caressed her cheek. "Do you know how much I love you?" He asked thinking back briefly to the conversation with his father. Tom now knew what she was dealing with, and he knew how difficult the last week must have been.
"Yes, Sir." She said smiling at his kind words.
"Clean me off." He stated as he lifted his cock to her mouth.
Marie didn't hesitate. His display of domination and power over Francesca had certainly amazed her, but it also made her feel like there was no more capable Dominant than her son. She had never in her life seen someone fucked quite like that. She took him into her mouth and sucked his length cleaning him thoroughly. She took great care to execute his request perfectly. This, she thought kneeling before him, is where she belonged.
Tom lifted her up and sat her down in a kitchen chair. She winced as her ass pressed in to the hard surface of the seat. Fran stirred in front of them. "Have you ever licked another woman's pussy?" He asked.
"No, Sir." She said nervously.
"Well... Fran needs to be cleaned. Be gentle. Show her how thankful you are for yesterday." Tom scooted her chair up close. He lifted Fran's legs onto the table with her knees spread wide letting her ass hang low over the edge. Marie's face sat inches from her gaping holes. She didn't dare ask a question or show hesitation.