My Despicable Family Pt. 01

"There is something about him. He forced me to do it his way, and I was OK with that. I was mad and yelled at him. He ignored me, he knew better, and he was right. He is confident and smug. I was ready to kill him. I couldn't, his touch and skills are amazing. I could have stayed with him forever. We MUST find a way to keep him. Otherwise, I'll follow him anywhere he goes. I am tired and need my sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Good night mom."

I hug my daughter and say, "Goodnight, baby. I love you."

I go to bed as well after turning off the lights. Ok, I know my brother is every bit as good as I have heard. I got him to sleep with his niece, which should make him more likely to sleep with me. Now we need to find out who is killing my people. How can I keep Ken? There must be a way.

Ken's Point of View:

I have showered and am sitting quietly in bed. I can't sleep. What my sister did to me, and her daughter is unconscionable. It's despicable. It meant nothing to her for me to sleep with my niece, her daughter. I can't imagine how far down her morals go. She truly is willing to do anything. I hear my door open, my anger flares.

Alice whispers, "I don't want to hear it, and I know you're awake. After what mom pulled, I'm surprised she is still alive. That's some self-control. Move to your side, spoon up to me, and enjoying the feeling of my body. I am NOT naked; you're safe. I'll sing softly until you fall asleep."

Alice gets into bed and pushes me over onto my side. She has a leg over me, her breasts are pressing into my head, and she whispers a very soft song. I am asleep before she finishes.

Chapter 3 -- The Investigation

I wake up to Alice, spooned up to me, and my arm around her. Laura is in my room, shaking me to wake up.

As my eyes open, Laura's soft voice says, "She's an amazing woman. Her voice is magical. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, take a quick shower, and then you have the day to yourself. The room next door is all yours. Everything you asked for is in there and set up."

I get up, pee, shower, and eat a great breakfast. Alice is still in bed, which amuses me to no end.

I start my investigation by poking around some old military records to get a list of who was in Iraq two months before I left and are still alive. I had already looked at the CIA and Special Forces files. This feels more like a rogue unit with a sick leader. They didn't leave any survivors. They killed everyone they "played" with.

We don't do autopsies on civilians. It turns out the local authorities did and gave the army the files. Nothing stood out.

Five days later and I run across an autopsy of a private. It seems he was captured on his first engagement. A few days later, they recovered his body. The army did a complete autopsy. The Army doc had better training and the write-up was more extensive, very complete.

I verify that both docs are alive and have a current address. In moments I am running to the garage, yelling, I won't be back tonight. It was a bit late when I showed up in a small Oregon town and then a house. The wife was annoyed, but I can be persuasive. I don't take "no" for an answer. I suggest that she stop screaming, and that I will borrow her husband to finish an old murder case. Otherwise, I could add two more notches to my firearm handle.

She did make a nice cup of coffee eventually. I explained part of my story, which made both much more eager to help. The guy remembered the private very much. It angered him, and now, he is furious that the private's own people did him in. We have a problem, the other doctor didn't do a complete autopsy, we don't have all the pictures we need.

I print his pictures on his color laser printer, they look fantastic, and now I am on my way to Iraq. I had to swap pilots, mine have flown too many hours without enough rest to fly again. Two bombshells walk into my plane and take the front two pilot seats. I am cautious. This doesn't feel right. Are they here to kill me?

After takeoff, one of the pilots comes back to see me.

Linda says to me, "Major Stuart says, 'Welcome back, kid.' He keeps an eye on his people. On landing, a car will be waiting for you and will take you to your destination. He knows about your new job. He gave me this and suggested that if I wanted to try the best man that ever went through the army, I should try you out."

I laugh at her, "Paul has no idea what I do to women, and you, my dear, can't afford me."

Linda laughs at me, "Did you know that Penny was his daughter?"

I almost choked on my water.

Linda continues, "He knows exactly what you are capable of. Bes and I are his personal bodyguards and pilots. He gave me this and said you'd understand."

She hands me a twenty-dollar bill. When someone had done exceptionally well, we used our own money to reward the guy with a superior street whore. The lesser ones were a dollar, and nobody wanted them.

Laura gets up and unfolds the bed that from the couch. She then puts an air mattress on top and uses an air hose to fill it up quickly.

Laura looks at me, "This may be an expensive couch, but that bar down the middle is uncomfortable. The air mattress makes everything better. Strip boy."

We both strip with me taking longer. She is rushing this, which amuses me. I am still undressing while she addresses me.

Laura says with confidence, "I like it up the ass. You can be as rough as you want. I should end up with welts, a red ass, and a tiny amount of blood if you've gone far enough."

I laugh at her, "I guess you didn't get the memo. Your first time with me is my way. You don't know the correct way to have sex yet. I'll show you."

For the next four hours, I show her my unique way of making love. It was an hour before she could fly. Then I proceeded to collect another twenty-dollar bill. Once on the ground, an Army Humvee is waiting for me. It takes me to the doctor that did the autopsy. Lucky for me, my friend also included an interpreter.

The interpreter helped calm the man down. He thought I was going to kill him. He remembered the case clearly, and on seeing the pictures from the Army, he said that without a doubt, they were the same. He then said something that floors me. He says the doctor that killed the people had some real skill; he made it look like a regular stabbing. He is an experienced doctor; he knew the difference between the two.

On the long way back to the airport, I call the Army doc who is just waking up. After looking at the pictures again, he agreed with my Iraqi friend. It takes four days of scouring databases to find the college background of every person on my first list of people that were there and are still alive.

My shortlist is four people. If I start matching dates with where people are supposed to be, three of the four show up. Guess what? They are all part of the same unit. The single guy only has one day not in sync with the schedule, and he could have gone off on his own without orders.

I won't be able to pin these people down. They're too good for that, I need to draw them out. I will use their names as my "stage" name. That will bring them out the next time they want to kill. Until then, I will have to work for my sick family. Mom and dad running an empire of whore houses and strip clubs. My own sister knowingly set up her brother with her daughter. Who the fuck does that? I need a shower just from being around these people.

Now they have me helping them. That part doesn't bother me much, I am going to finish a job I left unfinished. A job I want to finish. That will add the closure I would have preferred before I left. I have been out in the wild forest for a long time. The female companionship will be nice. Oh my, what a mess I stepped into. Despicable family on one side and sick twisted killers on the other side.

I used to be an angel of mercy. Now I have slept with my niece, and I will sleep with a series of women who are paying me to be their gigolo. Oh, how I have fallen. The intercom turns on, I have a "date" tomorrow, I better get some sleep. I am tired of the traveling anyways; I go to bed.

As soon as I hit my bed, my door opens, closes, and I feel someone getting in bed with me. Fuck me. How do they not understand that I don't want them?

Two breasts smash into my chest, and I hear Alice whisper to me, "I know you hate mom and our family businesses. I get it, you're better than us. You kill people, that's an honorable profession. We provide pleasure, you take away everything they have or will ever have. Their families grieve and often live life struggling because of you."

Defensively, "I only kill people that need killing. People that kill randomly, for profit, and for helping businesses with competitors are scum."

Alice says, "You just described yourself."

I laugh at her, "Nice try. You obviously haven't seen the pictures of what these butchers did to women. They spent days raping and then torturing them. From children to grandmothers, if it could fuck or suck, they had their sick twisted fun. Then they carved up the women and left them in grotesque poses. In all my years of killing, no group deserves it more than these men do.

"Now that I'm here, you're a target. You must promise me that until I kill these people, you won't work. They will likely use a former customer. You are confined to the house effective immediately."

Alice no longer whispers, "You can't do that to me!"

I ask, "Do you want to end up dead?"

Alice blows me off, "I have a few that would never hurt me."

I shake my head, "You don't get it. OK, I'm Mr. bad guy, and I want to kill you. You don't know me; you won't date new guys. So how do they get to you? They hack our computers, see that a Biff asks you out once a month. You like Biff. When Biff calls, he gives you a motel room. You walk into the motel room, and Biff has a bullet through his heart. They dumped his body in the tub hours before you arrive.

"Now they each fuck you several times over two days. You have no fluids left; it hurts when they fuck you raw. Eventually, they ... you pass out from the pain before you die. Tomorrow I can show you hundreds of photographs if you want to see the results. I learned on my trip that they have medical training. They know how to keep you alive for a long time while slowly killing you.

"So, humor me. Stay inside the house. No friends, family, anything. Have them come to you. If anyone pressures you to go out, come see me immediately. Your life depends on this. I can't force you to stay here, you probably have five ways to escape. Just know that you are also saving the life of the other person if you don't go."

Alice purrs as she asks, "That means I won't have any sexual release. I think you'll have to satisfy my needs while I'm under house arrest."

I laugh, "Oh, you think so, huh? How about one of the fine young men that work here. I bet they'd like a shot at you."

Alice has a teasing voice, "Oh yes, they would. After the first one, word gets around, they think I'm easy. Next thing we know you put one between their eyes. No. You're the only one discrete enough."

She rolls to her side, facing me. She reaches in and kisses me. She rolls over so that she can back up into me. It feels nice having a young, thin woman with big boobs in my arms. I fall asleep.

Chapter 4 -- Mrs. Franklin

It's 4:55 PM, and I'm knocking on the door of a mansion. I am to escort Mrs. Franklin for the evening, that is all I know. A butler answers the door and lets me in. He never asked for my name, she must rent a lot of men. I am left at the front door, all by myself.

The house is charming. Lots of antiques, expensive paintings, sculptures, and big rooms with color. Someone spent a lot of money decorating and purchasing just enough to make it look lived in and classy without being trashy.

Everything is clean and well cared for. I don't see any maintenance issues, that isn't normal. The craftsmanship of the furniture is top quality, probably master level. I could live in a house like this, it seems like such a waste for one woman. I see no evidence of children.

Thirty minutes later and a middle-aged woman, in her 40's, appears at the top of the stairs on the second floor. She is wearing an elegant long evening dress that has some cleavage for her huge breasts. The dress accentuates her thin waist and wide hips, showing off all her alluring curves.

She has jet black hair that's long and curled. Her face is nice looking, but nothing special. She is using a lot of makeup.

Wendy speaks with a loud commanding voice, "I take it you are from the agency. A bit older and not quite as cute as I have been getting. I was desperate; this is a last-second thing. My husband left the country, and I need a date for the art show and auction. It's for the homeless shelter.

"It's probably best if you don't talk. There'll be a lot of important people there tonight, and I need to conduct business. I don't need you messing things up for me. Just hold my hand and stay close. Get me drinks when I ask you to, and we will get along fine."

I play along, "You're the boss Wendy."

Wendy is annoyed already, "I guess they didn't tell you, call me "Mistress." I own you, and you will do what I tell you to."

This lady is annoying me already. As she walks by me, she refuses to take my hand. I follow her outside, and a limo is waiting for us. I open the door and assist her getting in. She liked that. Finally, I have done something right. I crawl in next.

Wendy offers me a drink, I refuse, I don't drink. I never let me guard down, and I am always watching the environment. I need my full attention; alcohol gets in the way.

+++++

We get to the event, and it's like every other fundraiser. Some booze, some tiny food things, a few colorful dessert things, and they raffle or auction off crap nobody wants for big money. Before that happens, Wendy talks to the important people. She wants to bid on the health insurance for the companies these people own the next time it comes up. She tells them they can do better.

Wendy also gets involved with conversations with her friends, where they talk about the artwork. We are holding hands and have interlocking arms. We look like we care about each other, I sense nothing could be further from the truth.

It's a long, dull evening in a hot, stuffy room. Wendy wants some air; she can't stand the smell of the people anymore. We go out onto a large balcony where two other couples are hanging out. It's a beautiful view of the city. It's a bit cold, I offer my coat, and Wendy takes it.

I have my back to the city and am watching the party. A man has come out and is walking in an arc that will stop at us. My senses are heightened, and I am standing up straight. There is something odd about the person. As he walks, his face doesn't move. Typically, there is a tiny amount of bounce in the face with each step, and you blink.

He is wearing a mask! I put on my gloves. As he nears, I step between Wendy, who has her back to him, and then I see that moment of recognition, he knows who I am. He is surprised to see a man he knows. I hear, "What the f..."

That was as far as he got before I hit him in the face. While he is stunned, I take his knife and thrust it into his ... let's just say I kill him. Nobody wants the gory details. Wendy still has no clue.

I take out my cell phone and dial 911, "Hello, my name is Ken. I have just killed the contract killer Albert Backsenberg at the Center for Performing Arts where the fundraiser for the homeless shelter is going on. It was self-defense, he attacked Wendy Franklin, I intervened."

Wendy feints into my arms. I let her down into a chair with me next to her, holding her up. We look like two lovers.

I continue, "I need at least the highest-ranking person available; I am associated with a federal government agency. We also need the coroner. Your people here can prevent entry to this veranda, which allows the auction to continue. They really need that money." I hang up.

Wendy is awake, "That's not the first person you have killed, is it? You are way too calm."

I ask Wendy, "Do you really want to know?"

I explain how this will work, "When they get here, I heard you needed a bodyguard and reached out to you. You need to understand, I'm a good, honorable person. Being an escort is a front for a more significant need. This was chance; he knew who I was and that surprised him.

"Of course, this means that you have made an enemy. Would your husband do this? You said he just left the country. There's no better alibi. Stay with a friend and see if someone new isn't living in your home. Hire a detective. Have the police investigate."

Wendy looks sad, "Can't you help?"

With sadness in my voice, "Sorry, I'm after some bigger fish that very much need my services. They have done many horrible things. I must stop them, the police can't." We are there for two hours with the police before we are released.

I gave a statement and then hand over my lawyer's card and refuse to talk. Wendy said over and over, "I didn't see anything." She told them exactly what I suggested. Eventually, she hands them her lawyer's card and shuts up.

+++++

At home, Wendy looks tired, I don't know if I am staying or going home. No staff is around, all the lights are out but the hallway.

Wendy starts walking up the stairs.

I call up, "Well, I guess I'll be heading home. I want to ..."

Evil Wendy is back, "I paid for you, boy. Follow me."

I already know this is going to end badly. She has quite the attitude. I follow her upstairs; she has a gorgeous bedroom. There is a lot of lace linens, a canopy bed, beautiful art on the walls, amazingly crafted woodwork in all the furniture.

Wendy adds, "I found a master furniture maker in Washington. I see you like his work. After several years, it's nothing special, kind of like my husband. Strip, and I want you up on the bed, on your back. I will be driving tonight."

I standstill. She is frustrated. She screams at me and tries to slap my face. I deflect her hand away from my face. Now, she is livid at me. I push her naked body onto the bed.

While she is fuming, I slowly strip in front of her. She likes this. I slowly unbutton my shirt. My suit coat comes off. My tie comes off. My shirt comes off, one sleeve at a time. My chest is available for viewing. The scars from two knives and three gunshot wounds are visible. They are healed but stick out on my body still. I continue with my belt, button, zipper, and then the pants. I have my boxers on with a visible tent.

I use both hands to pull down my right and left side of my boxers. My cock bends down, and I push down the boxers. When I push far enough, it bounces up. Wendy finds that amusing.

Wendy commands me, "I want you in the center of the bed, blindfolded, and with a big man like you, I have handcuffs."

I laugh at Wendy, that does not amuse her.

I ask Wendy, "How many times have you done this to those meek, pathetic boys? I bet what 25, 50 times? Is it really as fun as the first time?" She looks defeated. "How about we try something new? I have a system."

Wendy looks interested, almost hopeful, "I like the looks of the young men. Each is far better than my husband. I don't thrill the kids, I'm older and dominant. Many won't eat me and are quick to leave. Your agency at least has well-hung men, that part feels great."

I take the blindfold and handcuffs from Wendy, and I cuff her to the bed and put on the blindfold on her. She is scared, literally trembling.

I kiss Wendy tenderly, she relaxes.

I speak softly, "I saw Albert walking in an arc to us. That's when I got up and stood between you and him. It was too dark to make out the face until he was close. When I saw him select his weapon, I knew who he was, and that he was there to kill you. He would have brought a team to kill me.