Friends, Enemies, and Exes Ch. 08

"Please Mistress, please..."

"Please what? You know the rules." She felt perfectly wicked, and on her way back to the circle of whores, she kissed her Master's cock, licked the thick coating of pussy left all over it. Thank you, Master, she thought to him.

How pretty everyone looked on his cock. How happy. How fun it was to be together like this, playing games, feeling sexy. Stefanie was losing her mind, but she loved it. Penny could feel that. Charlie had given her much attention since her arrival. Penny liked her too. She had the makings of a new Mistress. Maybe even a new girlfriend, in the truer sense. Because she knew him. Penny knew that the report was an embellishment. Polyamorous, she thought derisively. Friends with benefits. And me. Still, it didn't sound so bad. If Charlie started to fall for little Stefanie, Penny would be happy.

But why?

Stefanie finally guessed it when Zoe bounced on his cock just a little too fast, and came so hard she let out a guttural growl that lasted almost a minute. She was shaking, trying not to fall on the floor. Charlie held her by the arms to keep her straight, but Stefanie was already shouting, "Zoe, Zoe! You're fucking Zoe!"

He never Rewired me, Penny remembered. All this time, all this work, and she had forgotten. I would have been okay with it. But he never did. Just his cum. Just that. And that means...

It was all her. The real, raw Penny. The Penny who was jealous of all these girls in high school. The Penny who hated seeing how miserable he was when his exes hurt him. The Penny who once had nightmares about being with someone other than Charlie. This same Penny wanted to see him hold another woman the way he held her. But why?

Because, a voice said. Was it her own? It makes you wet.

And as Charlie let loose a torrent of his cum all over Stefanie's perfectly round little face, spurt after spurt after spurt, Penny realized how true that really was.

**********

Lanie

She forgot to wear a bra when she left the house. If her chest were smaller, it wouldn't matter. But she was well endowed, and that made it much more obvious when all that covered her torso was a thin T-shirt. California in late November had a way of staying warm. It's okay, she told herself. It wouldn't go any better without it.

Her parents meant to move east a few years ago, but never really mustered up the strength to do it. "The West is just too damn comfortable," her father once told her. "Besides, the Atlantic is overrated. You know, that's where they ran the slave trade?" He was goofy like that, but only to a point. There was no way he hadn't seen the report.

And her mother. Good lord, her mother.

When she entered the house, silently let in by her eighteen-year-old brother Thomas, Lanie sat at the kitchen table and waited for her parents to talk first. She called ahead, and they were expecting her. But there were no offers of food or beverage. Nothing welcoming set on the table. If anything, the house looked unkempt.

"What about Preston?" her mother finally asked.

"That ended a long time ago," she said.

"I know that, he told us. But he didn't seem to know why either."

Yeah, and I'm sure he left out the part about the dozens of guys he let fuck your daughter when she didn't know better. "Do you remember Charlie, Mom?"

"I do."

"You always liked him."

"He left you as I recall."

"Thanks, Mom. Look, I just mean that you know he's a great person. And he still cares about me."

She and her mother looked nothing alike. Lanie had grown to like her pale complexion and her thin line of freckles across her nose. Those clearly came from her father, who had still not spoken. Her mother had greying black hair atop olive skin, a brow that furrowed so often that her face was in a permanent scowl. "I wonder why," she said sarcastically, clearly looking at Lanie's unsupported chest.

"Don't," her father said, curtly.

"It doesn't bother you that our daughter has become some pompous idiot's whore?"

Lanie's father was not a violent man. But she could see a look in his eyes from time to time that said more than a slap ever could. This was one of those times, but it was not directed at Lanie. "Name one man who will do better for her."

Her mother couldn't respond to that.

"It's a killer house," Thomas said, as usual at the perfectly wrong time.

"Thank you for your input, dweeb," Lanie said, smacking him playfully on the arm. If she acted normal, it would be easier for her parents to accept. Not a guarantee, no. But better than looking sullen and ashamed. Lanie was not ashamed.

"He's right, Mom," Thomas said. "Preston was a dick anyway. Hey do you think you could get me tickets to CityScream? Maybe a backstage pass?"

Their mother slammed an open hand on the table. "Thomas, out."

He had grown up a lot in recent years, and new not to fight back. He raised his hands, not as apologetic as understanding, and ran upstairs.

"Mom, Dad," Lanie said, smiling. "I'm here. I'm me. I'm not asking you anything, I'm telling you. I'm so happy over there. And I'm not gone."

Her mother was on the verge of tears, she saw. "Don't you let him use you," she said. "He'll do something wrong, and you'll feel like you can't leave because he's supporting you. Don't you let him do that."

"Never," Lanie said. "As long as I have you, that will never happen. Okay?"

She broke at last, grabbing Lanie by the hand and hugging her tightly. Gently, her father came around the table and held the both of them. When they had all calmed down, everyone was smiling warmly, the way they did on a trip to the beach. "Will you stay awhile?" her father asked.

"I'd love to. In fact, I was hoping you might teach me a few baking recipes?"

"Really?" Her mother asked. "I never knew you were interested."

"Well, I thought I'd try it out. What do you think I could make a couple thousand of in three weeks?"

**********

Charlie

God, he had been terrified. The reporters were ravenous with their questions. Lucy Edgehart was her name. Not the anchor, but the narrator. She was almost thirty, with a hard stare and a thin pair of lips that almost disappeared when she wasn't speaking. But as her lips flapped open with bold questions, Charlie could see they were actually quite normal. It was just her intense expression that kept them so tightly pressed together. She only seemed to loosen up near the end of the shoot, when Penny gave her a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows.

In bed, Penny whispered to him how sexy he looked on camera, how confident and commanding he was. But even with the energy of all his harem, he could not bury his fear. Not after hearing about Katie.

It took the whole house to calm him down. He made sure that Stefanie guessed wrong a few times, just to ensure the game would go on a little longer. Not that he needed an excuse to fuck every last one of them. It just made it easier to take Katie off his mind. He didn't think about her for the rest of the night, especially while he buried his cock in Lanie's mouth in bed that night. Charlie could sense the tingling sensation she got when her lips wrapped around his shaft, and that pleased him. Sammy played with her ass while she fellated her Master, and Penny, as was the norm, fucked herself with a well-trained finger. Just for the fun of it, he doused them all with a torrent of cum. Penny had the time of her life licking it off her sister's face.

In the morning, he felt calm. Even when he remembered that Dr. Emily Kisch was returning soon, Charlie acknowledged that the report went well, and he had done the best he could. As the girls started leaving the house one by one, he felt their presence grow distant, and his power relaxed ever so slightly. Even with two-thirds of the house now empty, he was still remarkably strong, and their energy was nowhere near gone from him.

"Keep the girls entertained when Emily returns," he commanded Helen. "Preferably without the removal of any clothes."

"Yes, Master."

And when Emily did come back, Penny was there at the door with another cup of cocoa. "It's almost Christmas," she'd told him. "You can't do the holidays right without lots of cocoa."

This time, Charlie walked with Emily through the topiary garden, now turning orange in the late Californian fall. Leaves littered the shrinking grass, and the air was so obviously cold. But Charlie couldn't feel it. He walked outside in nothing but jeans and a plain purple T-shirt.

"Aren't you cold?" Emily asked, sipping her cocoa.

"I feel great," he said. She touched him, not bothering to ask, and laughed nervously feeling the heat on his arm. Not knowing what to say, she took another sip of cocoa, letting a gooey white marshmallow slip into her mouth.

"I finished my Doctorate in May," she said, unbidden. "I had no idea what I was going to do with it until I heard about Katie. I had this delusion of grandeur that I could crack an unsolvable case."

"Your mistake," Charlie said. "Turns out you were right."

She laughed, quite jovially. That took Charlie aback. Emily was nervous around him, confused and reluctant. This was the laugh of a familiar friend, not a strange doctor grappling with science fiction coming to life before her eyes. "Katie said a lot of things about you," Emily said. "A lot of it is just unbelievable. But you are definitely charming."

"Thank you," he said. He couldn't tell if her cheeks were blushing from the cold or from him. She had a bright blue peacoat on, fuzzy earmuffs, tall snow boots. "Colorado native?" he asked.

She looked down at her attire. "A little overkill for sunny California, I guess. It is a lot warmer than I anticipated."

"Weren't you cold a second ago?"

"Yeah," she said, a little distracted. "I guess, um... I got used to it quicker."

"Did you see the report last night?"

"I did," she said, finding a carved stone bench to sit on. She placed her half empty mug next to her, and Charlie sat beside her. In front of them was a swan, its leaves deep red and a little in need of trimming. But the gardener would not return to that until the spring.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"I wish you had just told me that instead," Emily sighed. "But it still wouldn't explain Katie, so I guess... I don't know. Thanks."

"Are you starting to believe me?"

"I want to. I really do. But that would still leave me clueless. It's like you said, Mr. Ellis. The science isn't in. Can I call you Charlie?"

"Oh. Well, yes of course."

"I just feel so comfortable around you. Mr. Ellis feels too formal. And please, call me Emily."

"I will," he agreed. "What were you hoping for before we spoke yesterday?"

"The key to emotionally disturbed patients is discovering their past traumas and helping them work past it. People like Katie get stuck somewhere in the stages of grief, and just can't get out. She stopped right at Denial. I believed that she invented all these stories as a way of telling herself that you would come back into her life and take care of her, and that you could all finally be a family."

"What?"

"She always talked about this ten year mark, how..."

"Family," Charlie interrupted. "We could all finally be a family?"

"Charlie," she muttered. "Didn't they ever tell you? Didn't her parents tell you anything?"

"No," he said. And he knew the answer already. But it wouldn't be real until she said it. "When they sent her away, they didn't tell me a god damn thing."

"It's in her file," Emily prefaced. "Not one of her fantasies. Ten years ago, she confronted her parents about you. Said you were in love, you were going to get married. She started talking about the details. All the things you did... sexually. They tried to get her help but she became violent and self-destructive. They sent her away after that."

"And she confronted them because she was pregnant," Charlie finished. Emily had been clearly dancing around the subject. "And she knew she couldn't hide it. And she wanted to keep it."

"Yes," Emily admitted. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. I really thought you knew. Your child was born at the Hecksher Institute and given up for adoption. The doctors should have told you, of course. But probably didn't due to your age. God, Charlie... I'm so sorry you had to hear this from me."

"Boy or girl?" he asked.

"Girl. She was adopted in Illinois, but I don't know much more than that."

"Do you know her name?"

Emily shook her head. Charlie dropped his hands into his own. His inner voice was laughing like a madman. What a rule. One child, and that's it. Kaput for the rest of your life. Congrats to the happy father. Your kid's got a brainless whore for a mother and an unstoppable fuck machine for a father.

"So you thought maybe I had some insight on that," he said. "Well, I'm sorry that I don't."

"I'm not sure it's even relevant anymore. If this whole crazy story is true."

"And if it is," Charlie said, pulling his face up to the clear blue sky, "I'll just have to fuck her brain back into place. Pick up all the pieces and complete the puzzle."

"I... I suppose..."

Anger flared inside him. He stood up, towering over her, a fury in his voice like he'd never heard escape his lips. "Don't get shy now, Doc. Because it's real. And if you want the Nobel Prize you'll need me to fuck her, and then you'll need me to run experiments and shit. But that's a little out of your expertise because you'll need a neurologist too, and a physician and a chemist to test the properties of my fuckin' jizz. Katie's not your patient. I am. I could snap my fuckin' fingers and fix her. It's me you have to worry about. I am the enigma. I am the anomaly. And if I could tell you the secret I would, but I don't know what it is. Shit."

Embarrassed, cowed, Emily drank up the rest of her cocoa, unsure of what else to do. It bought her a little time to think of a response. "Charlie, I don't want to ask any more of you. I'm a little in over my head here and I just dropped a bomb on you. I should never have come."

Fuck you, he thought, spitting venom. I could have fixed everything, and this never would have happened. But you just want to publish a book and become the next Freud. The next Jung. The next Doctor-Fuckin'-Lipschitz. You are not in control here, I am.

"Are you really going to go back to Colorado empty handed?" he asked her. "If you don't believe me, then let's do it your way. Go over the story, figure out the root of her trauma, which part really fucked her up. If you do believe me, I will take you inside the house and show you right now."

"Show me?"

Charlie still stood menacingly over her. Emily's breath huffed with a hint of fear. Foggy puffs of breath curled up toward him, though sweat dripped from her scalp. She was getting too warm, even in the cold of late November. "I saw you staring at my cock last night," he said. "Or am I mistaken?"

"No, sir," she said.

Sir? Already? "I'm not your fuckin' professor."

"Charlie," she corrected, closing her eyes in fierce embarrassment. "You are not mistaken, Charlie."

But was it really so bad? He liked the way she said it, No, sir. "Get the coat off," he said, cooling his voice a little. "You're burning up out here."

She quickly unbuttoned the blue peacoat and tossed it onto the empty spot on the bench. Now he could see just how much she had been sweating. The flowery blouse she wore beneath the coast stuck to her skin, dark spots of perspiration holding it tightly to her. "That feels better," she said.

He started to pity her then, seeing how out of sorts she was. "You're right. I'm all wound up. Please, forgive me for that outburst."

She took a few deep breaths and fanned herself with a stiff hand. "Of course. I'm sorry, too. This isn't me, I promise. It's just..."

"The situation, I know. I don't envy you, Emily."

She jolted at the sound of her name, a little like some invisible hand had punched her in the gut. If Charlie hadn't been living with a house full of horny women for half a year, he might have mistake it for a stomach cramp. But that was the reaction of a woman suddenly overcome by insatiable lust. "Emily?" he said again, and again she writhed.

"Yes," she said, breathily.

"You never touched Katie, did you?"

"No, just to help her undress."

"Undress?"

"The Institute didn't let her masturbate after an early incident. I let her just to gain her trust a little. But I never touched her myself, no."

"Good," he said. Then I guess you're just naturally very slutty.

"Srrrr... uh, Charlie," she said between heavy, heaving breaths. "I really want to believe you. If this whole thing is real, then... it would... you know. Could you really show me?"

"I could," he said. "I can get one of the girls and show you what I can do."

"You could," she agreed. "Or you could just fuck me instead. I do love to swallow."

**********

Katie

Emily looked so good naked, just like Katie knew she would. She bent over, elbows on the bench, yelping as Master's cock pounded her pretty pink pussy. Katie could feel the friction of their sex, the strong grip of his hands around her waist. And goodness, how she begged. "Fuck that's so good! Harder, please! I know you can go harderrrrr, ohhhh!!"

What had they talked about before? Katie could scarcely remember. She was looking through Master, and when she did that, Katie had trouble focusing. She felt too warm, too comfortable, too aroused. Thankfully, Emily taught her the trick to getting a wrist loose from her restraints, and she was able to fuck herself all day long. As soon as she looked through Master's mind, she had a finger in each whole, plunging deep as deep could go with her own hand.

Best of all was the perfect white cum as it shot from Master's perfect cock and onto Emily's parched tongue. Her eyes rolled back into her head, tasting a pure dose of what she did not know she had already tasted. But it was like pouring sugar in coffee. It just tasted sweeter straight from the packet.

You're his now, Emily. You're Master's little cumslut, just like we wanted all summer. You'll be there when we come together again. Soon you can taste me, just like I said you could. Soon you can show me how you worship a cock in person. And not just any cock. THE cock. Four weeks. Four weeks and we'll be together again.

And then we can finally meet our daughter.