Mike & Karen Ch. 20

"Even if you like having your tits smacked around," Heather laughed. "I have so much of it recorded on my phone, I can't believe you-"

Her voice was drowned out by loud applause and cheering. The three students turned to look at the entrance to the ballroom, seeing now that the commotion was caused by the entrance of Mike and Karen. They walked side-by-side, arms around one another. They nodded and smiled to everyone politely, accepting the cheers and accolades while Ari played the crescendo from Raining Blood in the background.

Mike raised his hand in the air, and everyone quieted down. Ari stopped the music and silence hung over the hall. The pair looked around at the assembly before Karen finally spoke.

"Your bucolic accolades are more than a pair of old drama llamas like this lug and I deserve, but thank you," she began, letting the crowd laugh at her statement for a moment before continuing. "We just played our part. There were other heroes today, bigger heroes than Michael or myself."

Mike nodded over at a trio of women. "Freja," he boomed. "You defended brilliantly, beyond even my expectations of you. Very well done."

Everyone applauded and cheered, and Jeanie looked at her wife, pride shining in her eyes. Freja blushed furiously and almost hid behind Andrea.

"Andrea," Karen continued, smiling at the estate's mechanic and electrician. "You had a difficult job, and you and your team performed very admirably. You have sound judgment in tight situations; may it continue to serve you well."

People cheered for Andrea, who bowed graciously and held up her champagne flute in a toast.

Karen went on. "Ted, Dave, you belong on our teams as readily as you belong up onstage with my little boy. Have you lot even named your band yet?"

"Kaiju Sex Massacre!" Alexa called out, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

"Had to ask..." Karen sighed, shaking her head before she let Mike take over.

"David, Ari, Tunde, Valentina," he boomed again, causing Valentina to squeak and jump slightly, even though she was certain he'd reference her. His huge voice always seemed to catch her off-guard. "Excellent teamwork tonight, helping to fight and defend against bad odds. You all followed orders, and you knew when it was time to take one for the team. This is just an example of why you belong here, with my family. I'm proud of you."

Everyone applauded loudly, and the four staff members looked around and waved, appreciating the recognition. Ari couldn't recall a time he'd willingly fought alongside his employers. Mike and Karen looked at Alex and Alexa now, and everyone went silent again.

"My little boy," Karen said happily. "Absurd as your father or I ever were, but that's a good thing. You're so decisive, and I am so proud of you. Bring Alli here."

Alex grinned and nodded, moving toward his parents while taking Alexa by the arm. Alexa blinked, not sure what was happening, but Mike and Karen were almost smirking as they approached.

"Uh... hi..." Alexa said uncertainly.

"Alli, you won the day for us in all three rounds," Mike said, looking down at her. "Forget MVP, you're the hero, no questions asked. And this is the only thing even remotely apropos that we can do about it."

Alex nudged Alexa forward in front of his parents, and Karen pulled her arm from behind her husband's back. In her hand, she'd been holding a long object wrapped in velvet, which she now handed to Alexa. The blonde girl swallowed as she began pulling aside the velvet to see what lay beneath.

People gasped as they saw what she revealed. Alexa's throat had gone dry while her eyes stung as she read the words etched into the ancient, elegant blade.

Dédiée au service de notre reine bien-aimée, sa majesté Anne d'Autriche.

"Dedicated in the service of our beloved Queen, Her Majesty Anne of Austria..."

"It's yours now, Alli," Karen said softly, her own eyes glassy as she watched her little sister stare at the blade. "The sword of our ancestor, Lady Alexandra d'Assaut, with which she defended France, and Anne of Austria, is now yours. I've removed it from the Blackwell trust. You are its sole owner."

Alexa gazed at her sister and her brother-in-law, blinking away the stinging tears in her eyes while everyone else looked on. Tatyana subtly wiped at a corner of her eye. Jordan stood in a corner, smiling and nodding.

"It might be best if you said something to the troops," Karen whispered to her sister, winking.

Alex gently removed the velvet from his wife's possession and she just stared at the long, elegant rapier as it gleamed in her hand. She couldn't believe it was almost four hundred years old. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat was still dry.

Alexa turned around and looked at everyone, staring at her expectantly. There must have been almost fifty people in the room, including the Stevensons and other people from the university who hadn't even been at the event.

They continued looking expectantly.

Well, what the Hell...

Alexa thrust her sword in the air and let out a loud, whooping cheer. The crowd burst into cheers and laughter around her, while Ari restarted the sound system and began playing Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.

Everything was a production with this family.

***

The following day...

Mike and Karen were walking through the back of the property, heading toward the little home that was being renovated for Jordan. They'd been told it was well ahead of schedule, and the workmanship was superb. It had been a few days since the pair had visited, so they were making their way over now. The afternoon sun was pleasant as they crossed the vast lawn.

"Perhaps a little more than a week until the renovations are done, and then we just need to move the furniture and décor in and have Andrea light everything up," Karen mused as they strolled, her arm hooked through his. Even his little generator will be operational."

"I think he's most pleased about the old, traditional feel to it," Mike agreed, nodding. "We may put high-tech stuff in there, but the vibe is much more rustic, it should agree with him. It doesn't need to look like modern appliances and connections are everywhere."

"I remember the look on his face when we offered to heat the cobblestone walkway between his cottage and the Manor," she said, smirking. "He was almost... offended."

"You were just looking out for him," chuckled her husband. "Heaven only knows, he looked after you and us for long enough."

"He probably looks thirty years older than he needs to, because of putting up with me," Karen quipped, looking around and sighing contentedly. Though she'd grown up here, and knew every corner, nook, and cranny of the property by heart, it had always seemed somewhat cold and distant to her when she was little. Now, they were making it into a home, not just the hallowed ancestral estate of her centuries-old family. The snow was melting, the lawn a patchwork of white above and green below.

Praise the Lord for dappled things... she thought.

"But the place is rather compact, so it's a good thing he's inclined to modesty," she continued, thinking about the stages that came next in transforming this place. "And we just need to make sure that-"

Karen paused in speaking, something she was not known for, generally. She slowed her walk as they approached the grounds of the old house, and seemed to be staring at an old, stout series of posts at the end of the property, posts that had once acted as a fence, when the Blackwells had been the enemy.

Her lovely face was devoid of any particular expression, but her eyes seemed to be searching, fixated on something. Mike looked down at his wife, and then over in the direction of whatever was holding her attention.

Karen removed her arm from Michael's and began walking toward the fence. Then Mike saw it- perched atop of one of the posts, a small, mottled brown- and white-plumed owl with a snowy belly sat and stared at the approaching woman. It was tiny, and probably not in its full maturity yet.

The bird cocked its little head to one side curiously, watching her.

Karen walked slowly, wondering if the creature could hear her heart thundering.

It didn't show any sign of fear; it just watched her come closer, blinking once in a while.

She couldn't believe her eyes, and almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She felt like she was in a dream, or walking through memories from a time so very long ago.

He looked just like Tylluan.

"Hello..." she said softly as she stood in front of the post. Despite her closeness, the tiny owl didn't move, it just looked up at her, observing her. "I don't think you know me, but I knew someone just like you. So long ago."

The little owl regarded her and made a small note in his throat.

"Maybe you're related," she murmured, gazing in wonder. "I... I only knew your ancestor for about two or three years before they disappeared. I was so sad."

The bird shifted back from foot to foot, its golden eyes matching hers.

"And I... I would really like to get to know you," Karen almost whispered, her voice cracking in a way she thought it hadn't since she was eleven years old. "It would mean so much to me to know that Ty lives on through you."

She took another small step forward and slowly brought her hand up, the palm facing the ground and the back presented to the bird. The owl regarded the proffered hand for a few seconds before hopping onto it.

Karen choked back a sob, her eyes stinging. It had to be one of Tylluan's descendants.

The owl hop-walked slowly up the arm of her sweater, looking around as it reached her shoulder, but clearly content to stay there. Karen sniffled and wiped away a tear with her free hand while the bird quietly hooted in her ear.

"You seem to have acquired yet another guardian angel," Mike mused as he strode up. "You're going to have a harem of 'em before long."

Karen smiled and used a finger to gently rub the owl behind the ear. It closed its eyes and made a tiny, contented hooting noise, leaning into the finger. "Do you think he is related to Ty? He looks exactly like him."

Mike considered. "Well, the common short-eared owl can live up to seventeen years, optimally. They can breed every three years, and lay an average of seven eggs... and it's been, what? Thirty-seven years since you saw Ty?"

Karen nodded rather absently.

"Assuming that he could mate with maybe three females in the area, over six years, this young fellow would be perhaps six generations around from Ty, and one of three-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-six descendants. Funny that he looks exactly like him."

She smiled, her eyes dewy still as she stroked the beast. "I'm glad you could figure that out, I'm rather beyond math at the moment."

"Well, clearly he knows you and has adopted you," Mike pointed out, smiling. "Guess you'll need to name him, hm?"

Karen considered and then gently leaned her head down to the creature sitting on her shoulder and whispered in one of its tiny, tufted ears. The bird listened, looked at her and hooted before giving a hop and taking off into the air, flying toward the woods. Karen just watched him go.

"I can't believe it," she sighed wistfully. "After all these years, Ty is checking up on me, it seems."

"It rather contradicts your contention that you're difficult to make friends with," Mike observed, garnering him a smirk from his beautiful wife. "And he can keep tabs on Jordan for us, too."

Karen nodded absently, still staring off at the trees.

"You named him Annwyl, didn't you?" Mike stated.

His wife turned and looked up at him, her eyebrow arched.

"I know you, Gordon," he laughed cheerfully. "You're easy to read, after all."

"Only for you, fy arglwydd," she sighed, taking his arm again before continuing toward the tiny cottage meant for Jordan.

***

In one of the bedroom suites...

Alex was waiting patiently while something was happening in his wife's boudoir. He'd been getting changed when she came bursting into the suite excitedly, telling him not to move and just stay put before bounding into the boudoir and closing the door. She'd been carrying shopping bags.

Shirtless, Alex smirked and occupied his mind, pondering what she could possibly be up to. As a rule, he was never in her boudoir, since it was her private room. He only joined her in there upon invite. They'd managed to make their bedroom suite a superb hybrid of their individual tastes- Alex had gone lightly on the nerd stuff, keeping most of it in his little office, while Alexa had gone equally light on her fashionable décor whims. The result worked well and suited them both.

The door of the boudoir opened, and Alexa stepped out with a dramatic flourish.

Over her long, flowing golden hair she wore a broad-brimmed musketeer hat, made of black leather and complete with a huge, blue plume. Her flowing white shirt with voluminous sleeves was tucked into a supple, buttery-brown leather corset that had many buckles and gave her already large breasts a glorious lift. She was wearing tight black leather pants, also carrying irrelevant straps and buckles, and leather boots that came up to her knees.

"Lady Alexandra d'Assaut, at your service!" she said grandly, bowing with a flourish.

"Wow, that's amazing," Alex laughed, his hands on his hips. "I can't believe how good you look in that outfit, Alexa. We are so taking you to show off at the Ren Faire."

She sauntered forward, giving him a saucy smirk as she approached. "Do I look amazing? Or..."

Something flashed from behind her back, a glint of silver, and then the rapier she had so recently inherited was brandished at him, the point of the blade millimeters from his chest.

"Deadly?" she whispered, her sapphire eyes glinting beneath her broad-brimmed hat.

Alex smirked back. "Hm. Deadly, I suppose."

"Ah, yes," she said almost exultantly, drawing the tip along the tight skin over his muscular chest, enjoying the feeling of empowerment. "What good is the brute strength of the male body when it is matched against lightning reflexes and Toledo steel?"

"Guess the only thing left is audacity, then," Alex answered, smiling evilly before leaning forward and pressing until the tip of the rapier's blade punctured the flesh in the center of his pectoral.

"OH MY GOD, ALEX!!!" his wife yelped in panicked shock, dropping the ancient weapon in a panic so as to not murder her husband.

But no sooner had the blade hit the carpet than Alex had darted in and spun his wife in a swift circle that made her collide with the bed. She'd barely collapsed to the mattress before he had pinned her, his powerful arms locking hers on the bed.

Her eyes were still goggling up at his in shock, her chest heaving inside the corset.

"Don't you remember what dad said about the element of surprise and doing the unexpected?" he said to his shocked warrior-wife, immobilized beneath his superior mass and strength.

"Alex..." she breathed, still in something of a panic. "You're..."

"Oh, it's nothing," he said cheerfully. "It barely stings, the tip didn't go in more than a quarter of an inch. Mom'll fix it up fine and then I'll have a sexy scar."

"Once she's done killing me for running her little boy through with a sword," Alexa gasped. Her gazed flicked down to the tiny hole on his pectoral, which was indeed red, and welling just a little bit. He was right, it was barely more than a deep scratch. "You crazy bastard."

"And that's how you disarm a foe with a sword," he announced before something occurred to him. "But since I've already got you down there, and you did lose..."

"DeBourne men are crazy," Alexa giggled as he released her arms and she put them around his neck to draw him down for a deep and loving kiss.

***

Down in one of the basements...

The grunting and groaning in the dim little room only got more pronounced, as three forms writhed and squirmed around together. Jeanie was lying on her side, gripping her wife's hips to her face as she snaked her tongue in and out of Freja's pussy, while her index and middle finger wiggled inside the Danish girl's tight ass.

Freja, meanwhile, was lying on her side as well, flickering her tongue against Andrea's clit, making the rangy blonde girl shudder. Her thumb was inside Andrea's slit, and her middle finger in her ass. She tapped the pads of thumb and finger together through the girl, the digits only separated by a thin, slippery membrane.

Andrea shook violently and cried out when Freja snapped her thumb and finger inside her. After a momentary pause, she dove back into her task, burying her face between Jeanie's legs, licking deep inside her pussy hungrily, her face shining with the brunette's arousal.

"Ohhhhhh, shitshitshit yessssssss..." Jeanie hissed, her body glistening with sweat as they worked one another over. The room was barely big enough for the huge mattress that dominated the floor, and there were few other furnishings, just a small side table with a lamp, and a small garbage can. There were pegs on the back of the door to hang clothes and utility belts.

"Yndling, please!" Freja whined, trying to clamp her strong thighs around Jeanie's head. "Do not tease me so! I must cum!"

Not that the clothes of any of these three girls had made it into the room. They were strewn down the hallway, as the girls had been frantically pulling them off one another while they kissed lustily. They hadn't even found time to close the door before collapsing on the mattress and beginning the fuck one another.

"Ohmigod!" Andrea rasped, pushing her ass back against Freja's face, desperate to get her tongue ever deeper inside her. "Gnnnnnn, yes, do it! Get it in me!"

The three women were writhing and bucking until they all screamed, cumming hard. Fortunately, no one could hear them, down in the depths of the property.

***

The second floor, staff quarters...

She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she felt like she couldn't help herself, either. Her roomie was indisposed, so she knew she had a little bit of time. She was sitting on her bed, her back to the wall and her legs bent and spread wide while she rapidly pushed the vibrator in and out of herself.

Trilby hissed, clenching her teeth as she gripped Valentina's panties and bra in her hand, rubbing them against her tits while she fucked herself. Her eyes were squeezed shut behind her ever-present Lennon glasses, and sweat gathered in the hemp headband she wore around her brow.

She liked sex, but she hadn't had any in some time, with either a woman or a man. And here was her co-worker and roommate, practically sweating pheromones all day as she lusted after their employers. Not that Trilby really blamed Val, of course.

She told herself it was because Val was always worked up, always talking about it, always in a constant state of arousal that was impossible for Trilby to ignore. She was a woman, after all. Didn't she have needs?

Using Val's tiny thong panties, and her full-cupped bra to stimulate herself...

Using Valentina's own vibrator behind her back, thrilling to the knowledge that this little sex rocket had been punishing Val's pussy as recently as the day before, while she fantasized about Mike and Karen DeBourne.

And here was Trilby, fantasizing about Val.

She arched her back and restrained a scream, her hand working the sleek little vibrator in and out of her pussy furiously until it clenched around the device. She grunted as she bucked and thrust, her head spinning as she came.

Slowly, she slumped over on her side, panting, the wicked little device still deep inside her, buzzing away. She felt like she could barely move. She could smell her own arousal, but it was coupled with the wonderful scent of Valentina, left inside these used clothes she'd discarded not so long ago in her hamper.