Porn Star's Daughter Ch. 16 - Epilogue

Several minutes passed, and I finally felt comfortable enough to reach across the table and bring the box of tissues closer. She blew her nose, a tiny little honk. Even in anguish, she still had grace and poise.

"I really should have not been so hard on Rod for all these years," she said finally, and I was a little surprised to hear her agree with me. "I was angry with Zoey for asking me, angry that Rod seemed to get away scot-free. I was angry that I had no choice, that it all happened so fast. Here I was, never did anything wrong and yet I felt like I was being punished."

She inhaled, but it was a ragged intake of breath as she tried to control her emotions. "Rod came up with a plan that he would keep you and Simone separate," she said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

My mother's lips grew into a thin line. "Because I couldn't stand Christine," she said. "Her world changed entirely once she got pregnant with Simone. I hated her when she was a party girl, hated her when she was hormonal in her pregnancy, and hated her after Simone was born.

"Christine lashed out at anyone and everyone all the time," my mother said. "She lost all of her 'friends,' and every frat-boy jock that she wanted turned heels and ran when they found out that she had a kid.

"She turned all her anger towards Rod and Simone, and constantly screamed at both of them for ruining her life," my mother continued grimly. "She turned in to a drunk when she was pregnant, and I don't think she's ever crawled out of the bottle since. I think Simone found herself visiting "Grandmother and Grandfather" for extended periods of time, either because her mother was on a bender or the occasional stint in rehab."

Another piece clicked into place. No wonder Simone gravitated towards Tracy.

"Your father would tell me all of the things that Christine would do to make his life difficult with Simone," she went on. "She was a terror, and she would do all kinds of things to cause trouble."

I was a little confused. "Wait, Christine?" I asked. "Or Simone."

My mother cocked her head as she thought about how to answer. "Both," she said, finally. "On occasion, Christine would decide to not let your father see Simone, threatening to go to court until he gave her money. From what I understand, when he did get to see Simone she was a spoiled brat. A complete terror to be around. She would scream in the grocery store or the mall, and throw temper tantrums whenever she didn't get her way.

"Then there was a period of about three years where your father had to go to court because Simone accused him of torturing her," she said, a little too nonchalantly.

My blood turned to ice. "What?" I said, incredulous. "What?"

She nodded. "It started about the time you were twelve," she said, thoughtfully. "Since she was very little, Simone caused a lot of problems for your father. On more than one occasion Christine had Child Protective Services come in and fill out the paperwork, just so there could be a paper trail of accusations.

"Simone saw just how easy it was to get your father into trouble," she said. "She saw some news story where some girl had been locked in her parents' basement and abused. The girl made all the headlines and was even interviewed on several talk shows."

I remembered. It had been a major news story for about two weeks, and the poor girl became an instant minor celebrity.

"What happened?" I asked, my hatred for Simone reaching even greater depths. "How did they find out he didn't do it?"

"Simone couldn't get her stories straight," my mother said, a grim smile on her lips. "Too many of the details were exactly like that other girl from the news. Both she and Christine started getting caught in their lies, and the case was dismissed, but not before costing your father a lot of money. Like, tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees. That's why he had to take those long contracts for months at a time."

"Why didn't he counter-sue?" I asked, horrified.

My mother swept a finger under her eye to catch a forming tear. "His lawyer told him it would be a bad idea," she said. "He had one foot in the jail already, and if he sued them then they would have the ability to make all kinds of accusations and start the whole thing over again. He decided to 'take a small loss in order to avoid a bigger one'."

"But," I protested in horror. "That's not fair! They can't just get away with that!"

My mother smiled sadly. "Shannon," she said softly. "Life is not fair."

This was evil. Simone was evil. I had already understood that Tracy was evil, but Simone had nearly taken my father away from me - and for what?

"I couldn't stand either of them, Shannon," my mother said, apologetically. "I may have been the reason that your father decided to keep you two apart at the beginning, but over time it looked like it was the right decision. He didn't want you anywhere nearChristine or Simone. Yes, she was your sister, but he loved you far too much to subject you to them."

"And you never saw them either?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, though he once told me that you were going to have to be interviewed by CPS for the trial," she said, her face hardening with the memory. "But fortunately the whole thing blew up in their faces before that happened. I was very angry with him for putting me in that situation, but I know it wasn't really his fault.

"That day in the Dean's office was the first time I'd laid eyes on Christine and Simone since you were born," she said. "It was... difficult for me."

This was the moment that I realized that Simone needed to be part of my revenge. This was the motivation I needed to continue with my plan, and I knew I had to ensure that she was going to be taught a lesson she would never forget.

We sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. "Shannon," my mother said softly, reaching for my hand. I let her take it, and our fingers entwined. "I was young. We were young. I was only three years older than you are now. I had my whole life in front of me, and I was about to accomplish my dream."

I looked at the letter, and swallowed. She squeezed my hand a little tighter. "When you're that age, it's hard to believe that something - someone - can come along and take it all away from you when you've done nothing to deserve it.

"At least, that's how I felt then," she amended. "Now is a completely different story, of course. I love you, and my life has been so incredibly wonderful having you in it."

She paused and swallowed. "I was so afraid that if you knew what happened, I'd lose you," she said. "If you knew that Simone was your sister, I... I didn't know what would happen. But then you started asking questions about why I didn't marry your father and..."

She stopped, unsure of how to proceed. "Please forgive me."

I didn't know what to say. My mother was all I knew. I had never known a time when she didn't care for me, love me with all of her being. She had tried to provide for me to the best of her ability, but now I understood why she had difficulty holding down a job - she simply didn't have any training at all. She had been training to be a dancer, not an office worker, and it had been a struggle.

"Mom," I said, and she tried to blink away her tears. "As far as I can tell, you've been the perfect mother for me. I can't think of anything there is to forgive."

She smiled, and coughed a little as she exhaled the breath she had been holding.

Then a thought occurred to me. "Except..."

Her fingers gripped mine tightly, and she looked at me intensely. "Except what?"

"Except you may want to give Dad a break," I said. "Just like you, he was trying to do his best to do the right thing. And he was manipulated by Tracy more than all of us put together."

My mother's jaw set, and then she said, "I know. You're right."

She dropped it at that, and I realized that I was possibly playing with fire. If she and my father had some sort of reconciliation, even if it was just my mother treating him more kindly, it could be dangerous. If my plan actually worked, there could be a chance she would find out that he was fucking me. I was pretty sure no one wanted to have that happen.

As I expected, my mother never really opened up as much as she had that night while washing the dishes. For her, it seemed that the catharsis was achieved and that there wasn't much more to say. I had gotten the impression that there was more to learn, but I knew her well enough to know that she would only open up in her own time and on her own terms.

Nevertheless, the episode told me so much more than I ever thought I'd know - a vivid picture of what happened burned into my mind. I could visualize Zoey from the video, her attitude and her cockiness causing problems at home. I thought about how she could be manipulated by Tracy just like the rest of us.

The rest of us.

After "the plan", as I came to think of that moment of pure, unadulterated schadenfreude at seeing Tracy and Simone catch my father pumping his wonderful juice inside my ass - yes, it really did excite me to think of it that way - my father and I struggled to come to terms with our new reality.

We seemed to build upon what we had before, and at times suffered waves of overwhelming guilt about what we were doing. It was wrong, we were sure of it, but every time we tried to examine the reasons why - who exactly was being wronged by what we were doing? - we just found ourselves back in bed.

For philosophical exploration purposes, of course.

I did worry about what Tracy would do, though, and over the next several months there seemed to be a Sword of Damocles hanging over my relationship with my father. He still had to work with her on his construction projects, but that seemed to give him the opportunity to not only keep an eye on her, but discover additional leverage to keep her in line.

It turns out that Tracy had never stopped her string of get-rich-quick schemes, even while working as a State inspector. She had managed to run several bribery schemes though blackmail from key people that she slept with, building a long trail of people who were scared of her, but also held key evidence if she were to be brought to trial.

My father collected all of it. She tried to seduce him repeatedly, but each time she did he brought out another piece of evidence to ensure that she would keep her mouth shut. It took about three more months, but finally she decided to take a "promotion" and go work in another state.

Over time, I was able to fill in a few of the missing pieces that were left.

The video that Simone had given me was her mother's personal copy. That much I already knew. When she had told Simone about the video, Tracy also told her that Punk Girl was my mother. It explained why Simone had suddenly started hating on me out of the blue. Up until that moment I hadn't even been on Simone's radar.

She literally hadn't known I existed until Tracy began to tell her stories about how my father had abandoned her mother when she was pregnant, how he had abandoned both Tracy and her, and how I had been at fault from all the way before I was born. She kept up the pressure on a daily basis, making veiled comments about my perfection in my father's eyes to Simone, making her more and more jealous.

I could only imagine what Tracy had told Simone the night that she seduced me in my father's condo. "I told her that you were the best I'd ever tasted," Tracy had said. She played on Simone's insecurities about her status with her father and insinuated that she'd leave her for me as well.

Simone must have felt that Tracy - who had suddenly become something of a mother figure to her, given her own mother was barely qualified - was on the verge of being taken away by me. No, that's not quite right. Seduced by me. First her father, then Tracy. It finally made sense why she launched such a vendetta against me.

If it weren't for the fact that Simone was perfectly willing to drive me to suicide, and tried to ruin my father's reputation with false accusations of torture, of all things - I might have felt some sort of emotion for her. As it was, I thought that the punishment of excommunication from my father's life fit the crime. In truth, if I could strap her to the electric chair and pull the switch myself, I would.

Simone tried to contact my father, but he was true to his word. He blocked her number, rejected any emails, and even ripped up hand-written letters when delivered by snail mail. He was done.

Of course, I had told him everything. He had been concerned that the same thing that happened to Zoey would happen to me, so I needed to reassure him that I had taken months of practice and precautions, rather than just jumping him on a whim. That meant that I needed to explain why I did that.

The more he learned about Simone's behavior in school, the more he felt guilty for not being around as a father. That guilt turned into lavishing attention on me, and I loved it. I mean, I didn't intend to make him feel guilty, but if he was going to try to "make it up to me, I swear," who was I to stop him?

By the time the fall term started, I had completely moved in with him. It felt odd not living with my mother any more, but she didn't question my desire to move closer to school and the logic of living cheaply with my father.

One day I happened to be at the condo while my father was at work, and there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and to my utter surprise and shock stood Simone.

I couldn't hide my distaste, but I didn't say anything. Simone looked awful. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and I wasn't even sure she had showered for a few days. Her blonde hair was tied back in a scrunchie and she was wearing... sweats?

"Hi, Shannon," she said, having trouble meeting my eye.

"Simone." I said, coldly. "You really shouldn't be here."

"I know, but..." she paused. She looked behind me, standing on her toes. "Is... he... here?"

I shook my head. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Can I come in for a second?"

I cocked my head, and felt a strong urge to slam the door in her face. Unfortunately, the door came with an anti-slam feature that slowed the door and closed automatically, so that would have been futile and embarrassing.

Sighing, I stepped to the side and waved her in impatiently. I braced myself for an attack, just in case.

She passed me, walking into the very room where she had caught my father drilling my asshole. She looked directly towards the chair that I had positioned just perfectly so she could get the best view, and I knew the memory had been burned into her tiny little brain.

Then she turned to me, and the look on her face caused the hairs to rise on the back of my neck. She wasn't about to attack me, but rather I had a sickening feeling to my stomach that I couldn't explain.

She got right to the point. "Um, about Dad," she said, It sounded obscene to hear that name from her mouth. I fought down my claws, wanting to hear what insanity she had to say.

"I know he's mad," she said, fidgeting. "But I'm really, really sorry."

I kind of expected Simone to say something like that. I just looked at her.

"He's not mad," I said, and I thought I saw a glimmer of hope cross her face. That is, until I added, "He despises you."

She swallowed, but even as that news was devastating to hear, it seemed that she expected something like it.

She struggled to keep her poise. "I know he doesn't believe it," she said, finally. "So I was thinking about how I could show him."

I didn't like where this is going. "Simone..." I said, trying to give her a warning, but she plowed ahead anyway.

"Do you think if I let him fuck me, he'd talk to me again?" Her hands were in non-stop motion, a chaotic frenzy of insecurity and doubt as she wrung them together.

I couldn't hide the shock on my face. It was then that I realized that she had no idea how to process what she had seen, even months later. From her perspective, it must have been such a complete distortion of her reality that she couldn't possibly figure out what was really going on.

"Simone!" I gasped.

Before I could say anything else, she held out her hands as if she wanted me to wait. "I can do it," she said quickly. "I've been practicing. See?"

With that, she turned around and dropped her sweats. Lodged squarely in her perfect heart-shaped ass was a jeweled princess plug. The thing was enormous.

"See?" she repeated, and looked back at me. "I can take him now, I think."

All I could think of was how Simone must have driven all the way from her house, which was probably a couple of hours away, with that thing lodged in her ass. Either that, or she had parked outside the condo and inserted it right then and there in broad daylight.

I didn't want to see it any more. "Simone," I said, holding my hand over my eyes. "Put that away!"

"But," she started, but then pulled up her sweats and stood up. Her lip quivered.

Unmoved, I said, "You don't really understand, do you?" It was aggressive, but I had meant it to be. "You don't even understand why he hates you so much."

She shook her head. "I would have fucked him too," she complained. "I just didn't get the chance."

I looked at her, slack-jawed. She actually believed that the reason he didn't want to see her was because she didn't get to fuck him first.

"Simone," I said, trying to be as patient as I could. "You have tormented me, you have tried to get him arrested and put in jail! Your entire life has been one non-stop..."

I trailed off, unable to find the words to continue. I guess I came to realize that nothing I could say would make her understand, and I lost the will to even try any longer.

Still, I tried one more tactic. "You are poison, Simone, and you always have been," I said. The words were harsh, but I was exhausted and they came out bored. "Everyone you have around you is toxic. You have a bitch of a mother, and Tracy manipulated you by telling you lies and half-truths, but you made it so, so much worse."

"Tracy..." she said, but then stopped herself. "I don't talk to her any more."

I ignored her. "He hates you because of what you did, not because you wouldn't fuck him," I said, trying to get through to her. "God, Simone! You tried to get me to kill myself."

She blanched. "What? No!" she protested.

"'I even bought little penises to give to people so that they could leave them in her locker,'" I recited the best I could from memory. "'That cunt, she would have been, like, No, that's not my Dad!'"

"How... how did you know about that?" she said, wide-eyed. "Did Heather...?"

"I was in the bathroom that morning, Simone!" I yelled at her. "I heard everything. 'She thinks she's so great. She needs to be taken down a peg... or ten!'"

Tears flew down her cheeks. "I... I didn't mean any of it," she lied.

"Yes you did," I said, calming down and regaining my coolness. "You meant every word. You knew that we were sisters, and you knew that I didn't know. You used that to bully me for revenge for something that I didn't even do."

My adrenaline factory was producing in overtime. My heart raced, and I struggled not to completely lose my mind. "If I had killed myself," I said, coldly. "Your first thought would have been that you could have him all to yourself. You wouldn't have even thought twice that you actually drove someone to kill herself."