The Theft of Our Lives 07

"Duluth? What? Why? I don't understand?" I replied with confusion.

"The Driscoll account has caught fire, Ray, and I need you there before it gets out of control," Hank explained with genuine concern.

Dubious as usual about the company president's intentions, I wasn't sure if this were just a ruse to get me out of the house so he could co-opt my attractive wife and precious daughter into 'entertaining' another valued client in my absence.

It was a silly concern, really, as clearly my presence didn't make a difference and never stopped him.

"It's still a bit cold there so bring some warm clothes. Pack enough for through to the end of the week, and possibly longer," he advised seriously. "This could take some finessing."

"Okay, if you say so. I need to tell Emma, and then I'll head out," I agreed as my only legitimate response.

"That's great. I'll send an email catching you up to speed," Hank added with a pat on the back. "Where is Emma?"

"She's out by the pool with her sister," I answered suspiciously.

"Good. Let's go together. I'm sure it'll help her understand if I'm there to explain," Hank confidently replied with a smarmy grin, poorly hiding his lust for my well-proportioned wife.

We headed to the pool, catching Emma and Betsy somewhat by surprise sunning themselves in their bathing suits, especially since we weren't expecting a guest.

"Hank? What are you doing here?" Emma asked uncomfortably, startled with our approach through the open sliding glass door.

"Hi Emma, I just stopped by to give Ray an important assignment," he responded, pausing to gaze at Betsy and studying her up and down lounging next to her sister.

"Who's this lovely lady?" my boss inquired with an inherently lascivious tone, as is so in his nature.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It didn't occur to me you haven't met," my uneasy wife interjected, desperately wishing they'd never meet, not wanting Betsy to know anything about her debasing activities with him, and more so, rightfully fearing Hank's disconcerting interest in her attractive little sister.

"This is my sister, Betsy Fitzgerald," Emma politely introduced her sibling despite her concerns. "Betsy, this is Hank Allenby, Ray's boss."

Hank didn't hide his leering appraisal of Betsy.

'Same green eyes, same pretty face, same big tits. They're sisters alright,' the lecherous man thought while extending his hand in greeting.

I knew, and I suspect Emma feared, my constantly plotting employer had already filed his sordid evaluation away for future reference.

"Pleasure to meet you, Betsy. I see you share the same charming qualities as your sister," Hank flattered, unabashedly eyeballing her figure in the revealing bikini.

"Thank you, that's very gracious," Betsy responded politely, unaware of his reputation and wandering eye.

"I wish I could stay and get to know you better, Betsy, but unfortunately I'm in a bit of rush," he apologized, then returned his attention to my wife.

"Emma, I need to send Ray to Minnesota for the week on business," Hank explained straightforwardly. "He leaves right away. I'm sorry for the late notice, but it just came up and it's extremely urgent."

"Really? That's disappointing. I hate for him to go, especially right now," she replied, apparently thinking, or at least hoping, my presence provided an escape from the odious task of seducing our son, but I knew better.

"I'd better get going. I'll let you enjoy your time in the sun," he announced mirthfully, perversely satisfied by her troubled reaction.

"Ray, you'd best get hopping if you want to catch a flight out," my boss instructed, turning to me after ogling my scantily-clad wife and her equally desirable sister once more with a licentious grin, then heading out.

After I'd left, as she later told it to me, Emma and her unaware sister returned to the kitchen following another glass of wine and enough time in the bright sun.

"Are you staying, Bets?" she asked curiously, uncertain if she really even wanted her sister to leave, knowing the unsavory task ahead.

"No, I'd better change and get home. Robbie will be expecting me," Betsy begged off, concerned about leaving her mischievous son to his own devices for too long.

Moments later, with Emma pensively considering how to undertake the awful assignment given by Hank, Kerri appeared in the kitchen in a remarkably chipper mood, all things considered.

"Good afternoon, mom," our cheerful 19-year-old coed hailed.

"So, you're going to Alison's to help her set up and then the party, right?" my wife inquired, conveniently addressing Kerri's plans for the day without touching on the new and inappropriate aspect of their relationship.

"Pretty much," Kerri replied lightheartedly.

"When do you expect to be home, young lady?" Emma pressed, despite everything feeling the need to exercise the role of parent, while also with an ulterior motive for wanting to know.

"Probably not until 8 or 9," our daughter answered.

"Don't do anything stupid tonight," my wife played admonished unnecessarily, understanding our well-adjusted daughter had her head on straight and wouldn't think of violating our rules about drinking and the like.

"C'mon mom, I'm in college now, but I understand," our gifted lass replied forthrightly, accustomed to the concerns of her caring parent.

"I know, just being a mother. You never really let it go," Emma responded good-naturedly, but with the comment also thinking to Friday night, and recognizing they'd surely broken the mother-daughter mold at the poker party.

"Okay, I got it. I'm outta here," Kerri abruptly announced, dumping the last of her coffee and heading for the door.

*****************

To Emma's great discomfort, a day of teasing, inviting looks, and suggestive comments to our unsuspecting son followed. It was nothing overt, at least not yet, but simply dipping her toe in the water of the coming depravity.

It was enough, however, to leave Kellen befuddled by his mother's odd behavior, unknowing she was working up the courage to pursue her nefarious assignment for his seduction with small steps, while intending increasingly bold maneuvers over the coming week in accomplishing her odious task.

Conveniently or otherwise, my insightful wife sensed my trip was properly timed by Hank to give her an unobstructed opportunity to work her seductive magic on our son, perhaps suspecting my presence might prove too intimidating and hinder her efforts and ultimate success.

By the time Kerri came home at 9:00 p.m., Emma's sheepish grin was unexplainable, and now dressed in her warm-weather nighttime attire -- basically cotton pajama shorts and a shirt.

"Anything interesting happen while I was out?" she asked of her contemplative mother and brother while eating a late Sunday night snack, noting a fleeting glance between the two, but nothing otherwise unusual.

Awkward silences arose occasionally over the remainder of the evening, watching a Saturday night program with the conversation limited to discussing the show afterwards.

At around 11:00 p.m., Kellen tromped up to his room, possibly to sleep but more likely looking at MILFs on the internet and wondering what his strange acting mother was doing. His absence gave Emma a chance to talk to Kerri and a good opportunity to push forward her other unhappy agenda.

"Kerri, I thought this might be a chance to talk about a few things," my thoughtful wife began carefully. "I know it's been a big adjustment in the last few days. I just want to know how you're holding up?"

"I'm okay, mom. Really," she paused thoughtfully. "It's weird, for sure. I've done things I've never done before and never even considered, but I understand."

"Do you, Kerri? Do you really understand why this is necessary?" her resolute mother pressed, just to be certain, knowing the type of deviant acts they'd performed together might warp most families beyond hope of repair.

"Really, I get it. It's about protecting the family and staying together," Kerri confirmed strongly, with mother and daughter briefly pondering in silence their unconscionable circumstance.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be a sex toy for some old guy. I mean, I'm still young in a lot of ways, but I know we need to keep the family together," she acknowledged maturely with only a hint of anguish.

Attempting to lighten the mood and their plight, our sanguine daughter in her youthful exuberance added a surprising insight with a tone of experience she didn't truly possess.

"Honestly, mom, I know it sounds awful, but I've never cum so hard as I did that first time with Mr. Allenby. I mean, he's a disgusting old pervert, but he knows how to make a woman beg for more," Kerri revealed, with her unexpected admission disturbing for a parent to hear, but Emma put that aside considering everything.

"That's difficult for a mother to hear, but if I'm honest, I know what you mean. He really knows how to ride a woman," Emma conceded indecently with a knowing smirk.

Remorsefully, my wife inhaled in sorrow, yet with an odd solidarity in sharing an intimacy they'd never shared as women, rather than as mother and daughter.

"I love you, Kerri, and I'm glad to know you're adjusting to this new reality, sick as it may be," she mused with unusual relief at the straightforward confession.

"I'm okay. Really," Kerri respectfully replied to her mother's appreciative nod.

"I need to tell you something, so I'll just be upfront about it. Hank wants you to visit Professor Robertson after his office hours once a week," Emma dropped the news as plainly as possible. "I suppose I don't need to tell you why."

"Really?" our daughter replied sullenly, a look of genuine displeasure overtaking her otherwise bright face.

In observing her reaction, my wife knew the tremendous respect Kerri once held for Chuck was gone, and in its place a disgust and distain for the degenerate academic, whose brain was keen, but his mind demented by lust for her body.

"Yes, really, and there's something else I need to tell you, but it's not easy," her reticent mother added tenuously.

"Kerri, what we did the other night, well, I've never done that before. I mean, I've never been with a woman, you know, that way," she explained uneasily. "I'm not a lesbian, or even bisexual. At least, I don't think so."

"I know mom, I'm not either. We did it because Mr. Allenby made us, but truthfully, it wasn't so bad. It was just bizarre," Kerri reassured her troubled mother, startling Emma with the candid disclosure.

"Um, Kerri, Hank told me watching a mother and daughter together, well, that way, was the most erotic thing he's ever seen," Emma obliquely offered, drawing another deep breath with her internal torment at the act.

"I'm not surprised," Kerri joked innocently.

"Honey, what I'm saying is, that may not be the last time it happens. You need to be prepared for that. If he saw it once, I can't help but think he'll want to see it again. Maybe even worse," my wife explained unhappily, certain of his deviancy and desire for she and our daughter to suffer the indignity of incestuous lesbian sex.

"Seriously? He knows it's wrong, doesn't he?" Kerri argued warily with an undecided look.

"Of course, he knows it's wrong, but he doesn't care," Emma patiently retorted. "Hank's a degenerate. He gets off on forcing people to have sex together. It's all part of the deal."

Kerri tilted her head sweetly, contemplating the obscene directive, and looking truly adorable despite the loathsome dictate.

"We don't really have a choice, do we?" she asked in concession to the unavoidable reality, and not really needing an answer considering her resigned expression.

Emma smiled sympathetically and shook her head, grateful for Kerri's maturity, while further admiring her strength of character and resilience.

"Go to bed, sweetheart, and thank you for understanding," Emma said coyly in a bizarre appreciation as Kerri headed for her bedroom to think her own thoughts, ponder our family's future, and consider her unsavory role in it.

Alone, the conflicting emotions overwhelmed Emma, sitting on the sofa softly crying before retiring to bed, distraught and guilt-ridden while tossing and turning all night. Her actions and complicity in our family's downfall roiled her mind, but she also understood her current vile task wasn't complete until she had lured Kellen into our bed.

The radical act would change their mother-son relationship forever and take it in a decidedly different and socially opprobrious direction. Everything so far paled in comparison, and the thought of approaching our unworldly son with the disgraceful proposition made her nauseous.

Even then, Emma wisely understood the emotional and moral trauma of transitioning from mother to forbidden lover needed to be handled delicately without scaring him off or scarring him for life, so she plotted rationally with great care.

"One thing at a time," she told herself correctly.

*****************

Earlier that same day, at the airport going through security for my flight.

"Can you step to the side and out of the way, sir," the gruff officer directed solemnly with a light flashing on his panel as I walked into the intrusive magnetic imaging machine.

"Uh, sure officer," I replied, surprised at triggering the detector after emptying my pockets and judiciously following all of the security protocols.

Waving the flat wand around my body, over my arms and down my legs, the lights flashed multiple times and a beep sounded when he arrived at my crotch.

"I think you'd better come with us, sir," he advised as another uniformed officer joined him, calmly escorting me to a curtained area a few feet away.

"Did you empty everything from your pockets, sir?" the leader asked plainly.

"Um, yeah, I think so," I answered, still confused by setting off the alarm when he waved the wand in front of my crotch a second time with the same result.

"What do have in your pants, sir?" he asked perfunctorily.

"Oh," I thought, suddenly realizing what was causing the problem and turning red-faced at the discovery.

"It's, uh, a toy. Nothing really," I excused nervously, hoping against hope my answer sufficed while knowing it didn't.

"A toy, sir? In your pants?" the officer countered skeptically. "I think you'd better take it out and show us."

"I, um, can't. I mean, I would, but I can't," I stammered uncomfortably.

"If you can't take it out, you'll need to lower your pants, sir," he retorted as seriously as any person I'd ever confronted.

"It's, uh, not very private here," I questioned, noting the wide gaps in the thin white curtains hoping to at least be moved to a more secluded room.

"Here, sir. Now!" the intense man repeated, taking no refusal under the color of his authority.

With my belt already removed for the security check, it was an easy thing to unbutton my slacks and let them fall to my ankles, tensely scanning the curtains and finding a few curious faces looking through the spaces in the panels.

"Shorts too, sir," he pressed, and I quickly complied, fearing the penalty if I didn't.

"What the hell is that?" his partner, a big beefy man piped up, spying my restraining stainless-steel cock cage with a puzzled look of uncertainty.

I now saw more than one outside face closing in on the curtains, wondering about my predicament and growing interested on seeing me half-naked under the inspection of the security officers.

"Answer the question, sir," the leader directed with a sense of recognition but apparently enjoying my distress.

"It's a, well, a toy, like I said," I replied uneasily.

"A toy? On your penis?" he challenged doubtfully.

"Well, I mean, it's a cage. A chastity cage," I revealed under the scrutiny, noting a couple of younger men and their female companion snickering outside the curtain.

"What's it for? I mean, what does it do?" the officer quizzed, I suspect more out of prurient interest than official inquiry.

"It, uh, prevents me from getting an, um, erection," I explained, lowering my head with chagrin.

"It better work for your sake, buddy. Look at those spikes, Harry. That can't feel good," the larger, oafish officer noted to his partner. "Guy must be one of those masochistic types."

"Take it off, sir," Harry, the lead officer smiled at the observation, but to his credit stayed professional.

"I, uh, can't. I mean, it's locked, and I don't have the key," I admitted sheepishly, with the sound of chuckles surrounding the poorly enclosed space at my embarrassing situation.

"Who does? Are they here? Can they unlock it?" he pressed, unhappy with my inability and a hint annoyed.

"My wife holds the key," I nearly whispered under my breath, shrinking from my abject embarrassment at the humbling revelation and closing my eyes to the chorus of prying faces and ribald giggles.

"Doesn't trust you, eh?" the junior officer chortled. "You don't look like a skirt-chaser, dude."

"Alright, Lenny, that's enough," Harry scolded, although unable to repress a smarmy grin himself.

"It looks harmless though, except maybe to him," he added his own joke at my expense as the round of guffaws outside the curtain grew in volume with a larger crowd witnessing my shameful display.

"Pull your pants up and you can go, sir," the leader relented, allowing my humiliation to mercifully end. "A bit of advice though, you should declare that 'toy' to security before going through the metal detector on your return trip."

"Yes, I'll remember that," I replied contritely, raising my pants, and looking bashfully at my leering audience before heading for the gate.

The rest of the flight to Duluth was thankfully uneventful, and I soon found myself in my hotel room prepping for the coming week working long hours addressing the issues with the Driscoll account, knowing I wasn't going home until they were solved.

Emma had her own problems and made it clear that while I was away, unlike our usual practice, she wouldn't call every night to talk about our day and update her progress. She didn't say it, but I think the idea of a conversation detailing her seduction of our 18-year-old son was just too reprehensible to discuss, even with me.

'Ping!' a text message sounded around 11:00 p.m.

"Good night, and good luck" Emma wrote, with a second ping following almost immediately.

"Wish me luck too" she added, not speaking about why but with her meaning clear.

"Good luck" I texted in return, feeling odd knowing I was wishing her success in bedding our adult son.

"Love you" I followed in what probably looked like an afterthought, as she didn't return it.

It was a rough night's sleep, especially with the spiked cage attached since I couldn't remove it. The one saving grace was that the battery couldn't be recharged and was winding down too, so the threat of a shock was greatly diminished, at least giving me some psychological comfort.

I spent Sunday in my hotel room going over a variety of schedules and materials, hearing nothing from Emma. Under the circumstances, no news was good news.

Dutifully, I arose Monday morning and headed to the Driscoll home office, finding the issues complex but not unsolvable. It was simply going to take hours of work, and I didn't arrive back at the hotel until late in a routine likely to repeat itself throughout the week.

'Ping!' the much anticipated yet somehow dreaded message beep sounded on my phone.

"Teasing and flirting so far. Slow going but working up to it. Good night" was all it said, not providing much detail and leaving my imagination to run wild with what constituted teasing and flirting with a young man.

"What could that mean? A little dirty talk, or maybe some lingering looks?" I wondered aloud lying in my bed, disturbingly sensing a twinge in my slack prick sending a jolt of fear through my mind at the prospect of getting hard in the merciless spiked cock cage.