The Second Place Sister

"You should really sit down and reply to some of these. I'll help you," Stephanie said.

Tori sat in the chair, while Stephanie pulled up a stool from the corner of her room. Over the next two hours they answered questions, replied to messages and comments, and did their best to make the members feel like they were part of the Kandy Kunt "sexperience".

From Fucktoy69: Kandy, you are so gorgeous! I'm an 18 year old and getting ready to start my senior year in high school, but I don't want to go to college. I've decided to follow your example and do what I love, which is fuck! Thanks so much for being such an inspiration!

Dear Fucktoy69: It's so good to hear that you're following your heart, or in this case your pussy. LOL! You're the inspiration, baby, not me. The world really needs more hot young sluts like you to spread their legs for all the horny cocks out there. When you start fucking everyone, like me, drop me a line and maybe we can bump pussies someday! XOXO! -Kandy

From YummyCunt: Kandy, you're so naughty! I just love your videos so much, and I love your brother's huge cock even more! I have an older brother, too, and have been thinking for years about giving him pussy, but I've been afraid. You really gave me that push I needed, and last night, I finally did it. I caught him jerking off in his room, and decided to help. Long story short, he fucked me three times and it was the best sex I've ever had! Keep on fucking, girl!

YummyCunt, I'm so happy to have you as part of the site! There's way too many stupid sisters out there who aren't giving their brothers any ass or pussy, but I'm so glad to hear that you're not one of them. Isn't your brothers cock just the best? I love getting my young pussy filled up by other guys, but there's no cock like my brother's. Keep me updated on your relationship. I'd love to hear more!

TinyCuckHubby: Dear Ms. Kandy, thank you so much for allowing a pitiful man with such a tiny penis, like myself, the privilege of jerking off my worthless dick to your beautiful body. My wife refuses to fuck my little penis, ever since my best friend started to give her his much bigger cock. Fortunately, I've been able to sneak in some jerk off sessions with your awesome videos, and you've really helped with my blue balls. Please don't tell me wife! LMAO! I'd love to hear more about your relationship with your boyfriend, because I know he has a tiny penis, like me.

Dear TinyCuckHubby, I'm really glad you like to jerk off your little cock to my hot young body. I'm sorry to hear that your wife doesn't fuck you anymore, just because you have a worthless little penis. I would never deny my wonderful boyfriend my pussy, but he knows that he'll never be able to make me cum like a big cock can. If you here right now, I'd let you put your cock in me and cum in me, because if there's one thing I can't stand it's a man with blue balls! I'll think about putting up some stories about my boyfriend for you. Don't get caught looking at my videos now, even though I'm probably hotter than your wife. Smooches! -Kandy

FirmHandFirmCock: Dear slut, it's very obvious to me that you're naturally very submissive and playful. I can't imagine that you do this all on your own, and there must be a more dominant hand behind you, helping to control your wanton little cunt. Is there such a person?

Dear FirmHandFirmCock: You're right, I really can't do this on my own. I'm a stupid slut, and my real talents are using my tight young holes to jerk off cocks until they feed me their hot loads. To answer your question, my sister owns my cunt. I'm her good pussy girl, and she takes such good care of me, making sure I don't get myself into too much trouble. When you have a really horny pussy, like mine, sometimes you get the urge to let just anyone fuck you. My sister loves me so much, though, that she helps me get fucked safely.

When Stephanie decided they'd put in enough response time they went downstairs to dig up a late lunch. Cindy sat at the table looking bored, toying with a piece of pie.

"Hey, Cindy," Tori said, "Where's Mike?"

"He had to go to summer classes,"

"So, what are you doing?"

"Being bored!"

Stephanie opened the fridge, poked around, then the freezer. Nothing looked good. She sighed and joined Tori and Cindy at the table.

"It's fucking summer. Why are we inside? I don't have shit to do until my shoot tomorrow,"

"Well, I'm inside because Mike said I shouldn't go out alone, or someone might kidnap me and sell me overseas," Cindy said.

"Well, if you had someone to keep you on a leash, would that be different?" Stephanie asked.

"Probably. What should we do?"

"Well, first I think Tori should lick my cunt, while you video it for Kandy Kunt," Stephanie said.

Cindy perked up, "I like where this is going,"

"Then, you and Tori can 69 like the dirty little lesbo sluts you are, and I'll record it for both sites,"

"I haven't cum in hours! This will be great!" Cindy said.

"Let's go out by the pool," Stephanie suggested.

The giggling threesome went out to the pool deck, and Stephanie pulled up a pool chair. She spread a few towels on the concrete, too. Handing her phone to Cindy, she lay back on the pool chair and spread her legs, crooking her finger at Tori. Cindy began filming.

Tori came over and made out with her sister, while Stephanie rubbed her cunt. Tori worked her way down Stephanie's body, sucking at her big tits, kissing her tummy, then putting her face between her legs. Stephanie stroked her hair, called her a cuntsucker and pussy slut, and then finally came on her face.

She took the phone from Cindy, and had the little redhead lay on her back on the spread towels. Tori climbed on top of her friend, and they were soon moaning into one anothers cunts, fingering their assholes, and cumming in each others faces. They swapped positions, did all over again. After several hard orgasms, they lay panting on the towels.

Stephanie stopped the video, set her phone aside, and dove naked into the pool. It wasn't long before Tori and Cindy were joining her. If it weren't for the ache in her cunt that never seemed to go away, and the fact that she was skinny dipping, Tori thought she could almost feel normal again. They were laughing, rough housing, and kissing each other. They were young, getting rich, and it was summer. Life was good.

*The Walls Came Tumbling Down*

It was raining on Friday, and the steamy heat seemed to cling to John Hamlin's clothes as he pushed through the double glass doors of a downtown office building. He crossed the lobby, gave the receptionist his name, and waited. The girl told him to take the elevator to the fifth floor. Suite 503.

John had been making inquiries over the last week with medical and psychological professionals, trying to find more information on Tori's condition. The responses had been...disturbing. The replies were all the same. There was no such condition, at least not under that name. Certainly there were people out there who were addicted to sex, and several of the responses he'd gotten back had admitted as much. However, none of them could pin down exactly what he was talking about. A few had offered to examine Tori, but he politely declined at this juncture. He didn't want to subject his daughter to more therapy, tests, or anything else without knowing more.

Then, he'd received a call from a special investigator with the FBI's sexual crimes unit, asking him to please come in and talk with them. They promised that it would be worth his while, and that they could offer him some information. His interest piqued, John now found himself riding the elevator to suite 503.

He stepped off, and made his way down a carpeted hallway to suite 503, let himself in, and was greeted by a receptionist. Again, he gave his name, waited. A stocky man in a dark suit and tie came through a door in the back and held out his hand.

"Mr. Hamlin? Agent Arnold Oliver. It's good to meet you,"

"Thanks,"

"Would you follow me, please?"

He took John through the back door and into a sparsely decorated office. He offered him a chair, and then sat behind a metal desk, and slid a piece of paper and a pen over.

"This is a nondisclosure agreement," he explained, "Before I can tell you anything, I'll need you to sign it, please,"

John looked it over. He'd seen many such agreements in the past, and it looked pretty standard. He signed it, passed it back. The agent slipped it into a folder, and then pulled a large file out of his desk.

"Thanks for coming in," Oliver said, "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here,"

"I am,"

"Your recent inquiries into a rare disorder tipped us off, so I tracked you down. You see, I head an investigation into sex crimes, things like human trafficking, and I understand you have a daughter who was recently incarcerated at the NewYou Clinic here in the city. Do I have that right?"

"You do. So, what interest does the FBI have in psychological disorders?"

"Ordinarily, we don't," Oliver said, "however, this particular one caught our attention about a year ago,"

He opened his file and began to lay out photographs. One in particular, caught John's attention.

"Do you recognize any of these people?" Oliver asked.

"Him," John said, a cold sense of dread creeping over him as he pointed to the photo.

"Dr. Peter Carlson," Oliver said, "He heads the NewYou Clinic,"

"That much I know. Why am I looking at him?"

"On the face of it, the NewYou Clinic is exactly what it claims to be. It's a rehabilitation ward for troubled teens. Some, or even most of what they do, is actually legitimate work. It has to be, when you're trying to hide...other things, I guess,"

"What are you telling me?"

"Dr. Carlson, and several members of his staff, were very respected in their fields. However, all of them had a penchant for not playing by the rules. Most of them were dismissed, very quietly, from prominent positions in pharmaceuticals, DNA research, psychological conditioning, a pretty broad spectrum of medical professions. It's the sort of pool of talent that you would want to bring together if you were, say, trying to run a clinic for addiction recovery,"

He pulled another set of photographs and laid them out, asking if John recognized any of them. Again, one face he did know.

"That's Mr. Hart. He teaches chemistry at my daughter's school. I met him at a parent/teacher conference last year,"

Oliver nodded, "All of the people in these photographs, we've been looking into for the last year. They occupy positions at high schools around the state. Some of them are teachers, others counselors, principals. But what they really are, are the scouts,"

"Scouts?"

Oliver leaned back in his chair, "Everything I'm telling you is classified as part of an ongoing investigation. I wouldn't even be divulging it, except that you have a unique connection to this case,"

"How so?"

"For one, your daughter was treated at NewYou, and the other is this," He pulled another photo from the file, and seemed to hesitate, "This could be...difficult for you, so please just try to keep an open mind,"

John felt his palms begin to sweat as the agent slid the photograph across the desk. He stared at it, time seeming to stand still. The agent said his name, but it sounded like he was yelling down a long tunnel. In the photograph was Stephanie, and she was walking into a house. The man in the doorway was Mr. Hart.

"Mr. Hamlin," the agent said again.

John tore his eyes from the photo. His mouth was dry. He looked at it again. The agent pulled it away.

"Is that your daughter?" Oliver asked.

John nodded.

"Mr. Hamlin, the people that I've shown you are part of a larger ring of criminal activity that we've been watching very closely. The scouts," he waved his hand over the photographs, "are the front line. They locate young girls, often girls with problems like drug addiction, and then they work to ensure those girls are arrested for crimes either real or imagined. It's something they're very good at.

They have co-conspirators in the legal system that funnel the girls into the NewYou Clinic for rehabilitation and treatment. However, once inside, they're put through intense psychological reconditioning, as well as drug treatments that essentially rewrite parts of their DNA. The result is that these girls experience a dramatic increase in sex drive, hormone and pheromone production, and have their personalities altered to accept the new feelings,"

John placed his shaking hands on his legs and asked, "You think that...that they did this to Tori?"

Oliver nodded.

"I'm sorry to say it, sir, but I also think that your other daughter might be involved. To what extent, I can't say as of yet, but there's a picture starting to emerge as I look into her,"

"What do they...what happens to the girls?"

"Some of them, well, the families have difficulty accepting them in their changed state. Some have been turned over as wards of the clinic, since they have difficult operating in society, for obvious reasons. Those ones, we know of at least a few that have been sold in known human trafficking rings,"

John thought of Cindy. She'd been turned over to the clinic, abandoned by her family. If they hadn't taken her in...

Oliver went on, "It's hard, though, to make girls simply disappear. Often times, other...arrangements are made. The end goal, as with most of these things, is money or power, in this case mostly money. And sex,"

"You said other arrangements. What does that mean?"

Oliver slid him a piece of paper, a web domain registration form.

"The domain LKKXXX.COM was registered less than a week ago. The domain name is registered to Second Place Holdings LLC, the sole officer of which is one Stephanie Hamlin," Oliver explained, "have you visited this site?"

John shook his head. He'd never heard of it.

"I would encourage you not to, for your own sanity," Oliver said sadly, "Please, just trust me when I say that the content is graphic, disturbing, and utterly without shame. The website has only been online for a few days. Already, it's been visiting well over a million times, and has a membership count of over 15,000. The site charges a membership fee of $10 per month. You can do the math,"

John could. The numbers were staggering.

"We've been following the funds, part of which are being dumped into an account for benefit of Tori Hamlin, but owned and managed by Stephanie Hamlin. Another portion is being funneled through a lot of very strategic accounting to other sources we haven't identified. It's my assumption, though, that those funds are paying the network of conspirators that your daughter has been working with,"

John felt like he'd been punched in the chest. He couldn't breath. He put his head between his knees and felt lightheaded. It couldn't be true. Stephanie was...using Tori to make money? Is that what the agent was saying? John steeled himself, controlled his breathing, and finally faced the agent again.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, sir," Oliver said.

"You're sure," John asked.

"I can only go where the evidence takes me,"

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you," Oliver said, "I wanted you to have the truth, and ask you to keep your eyes open for anything that might help us. Right now, what we have is a shadowy conspiracy that's difficult, if not impossible to pin down. They're connected at some of the highest levels, and the amount of money involved here is immense. I know that what I'm telling you is probably hard to believe, but let me assure you that I'm going to bring them down,"

He reached into his pocket and pushed another photograph across the desk. The girl was very pretty, with dark brown hair and big friendly eyes.

"My niece. Allison."

John handed the photo back.

"Allison loved music. She was good. Very good. Musicians, well, they can be a mixed crowd. She fell in with some of the bad ones, and got into drugs. It wasn't long before she was arrested with heroin. The judge ordered her to rehabilitation at the NewYou Clinic, and that's when the diagnosis came. Adolescent Hypersexual Disorder. According to the therapists at NewYou, her drug problem was only a side effect of a rare, repressed psychological disorder,"

John saw the parallels very clearly.

"It was three months before Allison came home, at the end of the court-mandated sentence. She was...different. Do you know what Allison does now?"

John shook his head.

"She works in the adult film industry as Anal Allie,"

"I'm...I'm sorry," John said.

Oliver shook his head, saying, "I'm not asking for sympathy. I just want you to know that I know what it's like. I've been where you are, almost,"

"Then, everything that's been happening to Tori...it's all been..."

"A lie? Bullshit? Manufactured? I'd stake my career on it,"

John sat back in the chair, trying to muddle through it. He couldn't. He didn't want to. Stephanie was involved in this? Why?

"What do you want me to do?" John asked.

"Just keep your eyes open. If we're ever going to bring them down, then we need evidence,"

"Alright,"

"And Mr. Hamlin," Oliver said, standing and reaching across the desk, "I'm sorry,"

John shook his hand. He was cold as he turned to leave. He left the building on autopilot, and when he reached his car he got behind the wheel and just sat. How did one even begin to process what he'd just learned? Several times he started the engine, and then turned it back off. He couldn't make his body work. Driving the vehicle took too much thought. He didn't know how much time passed, but as the summer sun crossed the sky, John Hamlin put his face in his hands and cried.

*Truth, Stranger than Fiction*

It was after dark when John's car pulled into the driveway. He parked in the garage, shut off the engine, and stared at the door to his home. Over the last month, his family life had changed drastically. It all began with Tori's odd behavior over a weekend one month ago, a sudden uptick in sexual energy that had infected the entire rest of the family. John and Melanie, intensely sexual people themselves, open to the taboo world of kinky perversion, had been all too eager to experiment with their children. The result was that their family had never been closer, never happier.

Now, staring at the door, John dreaded walking inside. It wasn't that he was less inclined toward the new relationships he'd forged with his kids. Quite the opposite. He cherished them, delighted in watching them flourish, loved them all the more because of it. He just didn't know if he could look at Stephanie, now, and see her as his little girl. The extent of her involvement wasn't really clear, but that she had some hand in it was.

And then there was Tori, afflicted, changed, stripped of her entire life and forced into a new one. How could he face her and not break down in tears at her pain? How could he face his wife, and tell her that Stephanie was using her sister, prostituting her? He looked at his phone. Melanie had called twice, but he hadn't answered.

Bugs. Bugs in the software. John was a problem solver by nature. It's what had made him successful, being able to design, locate the flaws, devise solutions, implement. He tried to focus on it as thought it were the same thing. In order to find evidence, he needed to look at the source. Stephanie was the source, his only lead.

Maybe there was something to confirm or deny her involvement. If it was in the house, her room would be a good place to start looking. Stephanie might be blonde, but she was no idiot. She was his daughter, so of course she was smart. If she were hiding something, would she keep it in the house? He'd have to try. He knew that tomorrow morning she would be out on a shoot for several hours. That would be his opportunity.