The Theft of Our Lives 17 Pt. 01

Disclaimer: This story contains various sex acts between adults, including but not limited to, non-consensual sex in the form of blackmail and coercion. The story, all names, and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to entities or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18 years old or older. All rights reserved.

LIFE AFTER KERRI

Only a few weeks after her 20^th birthday and the Stanley's horrible early morning visit, her career aspirations and hopes for a happy life and marriage in shambles, Kerri detonated a bombshell.

"I'm dropping out of college," she announced abruptly after dinner, intending to give up her academics, volleyball, and everything else from her previously wholesome life.

"WHAT?!" her mother exploded, severely displeased at the sudden development dashing her most cherished hopes for our bright and vivacious daughter's future.

"Staying in school just doesn't make sense, mom. Mr. Wagnell says I can make a shitload of cash from the clients he sends my way," Kerri stated plainly, discussing the extreme option of prostitution as calmly as if telling us she was going to medical school.

"Please, don't talk that way, Kerri," my wife complained mournfully while reluctantly recognizing Kerri was right.

Discouraged but realistic, Emma knew wealthy, depraved men and women would pay top dollar to tap our All-American girl's stellar tits and fresh young pussy, but remained unconvinced about the decision as contrary to her every dream for Kerri's brilliant future.

"Okay, sorry about the swearing, but let's not kid ourselves, mom, I'm already putting out several days a week for free," Kerri reminded unapologetically, painfully speaking the harsh truth about her inglorious plight since my boneheaded crime placed our family in jeopardy.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I know that as well as anyone, but becoming a-a whore? It's just so, I don't know, degrading," Emma countered, knowing her argument was weak and making no dent whatsoever against Kerri's determination to drop-out and pursue the world's oldest profession.

"It's no worse than doing it for free. Besides, Hank didn't give me much option," Kerri explained with stark rationality, noting obliquely that nothing in her life was of her own initiative since my strong-willed boss controlled everything, even if through his surrogates - Ike, then Nate, and now our son, Kellen.

"But, giving up school? Volleyball? Your future?" her mother whined, seeing her own wishes vanishing before her eyes as simply another assault on our once happy life.

"Well, I probably wasn't getting a major university scholarship anyway. I mean, I'm pretty good, but not at that level, and I can always go back to college later," our quick-thinking daughter replied.

"Famous last words," Emma pouted, dropping the argument as useless while a solemn pause fell over the dinner table.

"Mom, dad, there's more. Next week I'm moving into a place downtown arranged by Nate," she revealed apprehensively but again without apology.

"Oh no, so soon? Can't you stay here? We're a family," her mother decried miserably. "I don't want us to separate, especially with everything going on. I mean, everything we've sacrificed."

"Look mom, be realistic. I can't turn tricks at home. You know how bad it would look to the neighbors if I'm bringing John's to the house," Kerri challenged rhetorically, explaining her reasoning with unvarnished frankness.

The look on her face told me even Emma couldn't argue with that logic.

"Truthfully, it's for the best. I don't think I can handle sucking off Gamps whenever he pleases. It's too hard on my brain," our daughter admitted, granting an insight into how dreadful that turn of events was psychologically.

"Besides," she concluded pragmatically, "even after Nate and Hank take their cuts, I'll be earning enough to afford it."

"Oh god, Kerri you shouldn't say that! You make Nate sound like a pimp. He's a respectable businessman and philanthropist," Emma protested the slight to her mistaken hero, clouded by her undue esteem and sexual desire for the patrician man while in blind denial about his true nature, despite knowing better.

"Yeah right, he's a businessman, that's for sure," Kerri gawped at her besotted mother's disconnected reaction, her own rose-tinted glasses removed and seeing the bastard for who he truly was after the night at the Saddle Club shamefully earning him a profit.

No longer an innocent flower filled with the optimism of youth, our auburn-tressed beauty with an athletic frame, adorable freckles, and killer set of D-cup tits was now, quite literally, a whore, and her trauma after the night competing for clients at the Saddle Club was reflected by her coldhearted perspective.

As promised, the next week Kerri disenrolled from college, moving into a downtown loft apartment with Ava and Kimberly, entertaining clients and raking in a pile of cash. Disposing of her future as if a tattered garment, our once-promising angel turned to prostitution as easily as slamming the ball over the net in a volleyball match.

To her astonishment, Kerri's income was unlike anything she'd ever earned babysitting, especially when receiving a greater share of the money than she had the night at the Club - keeping 25%, with 25% to Hank, and 50% to Nate.

Even I had to admit that what my ruthless employer had accomplished in less than a year was remarkable, upsetting twenty years of proper childrearing by me and Emma and transforming Kerri into an expensive call girl charging exorbitant amounts for her exceptional skill at sucking cock, the snug grip of her velvet cunt, or the high-priced entry to her tight ass.

Honestly, our sweetheart's transition from vibrant college girl to savvy hooker happened so quickly it left Emma in a tizzy and myself unsuitably impressed by Kerri's begrudging acceptance of her role as payment for my misdeed and our family's collective penance.

Our once-inviolate angel's descent into whoredom was contrary to everything we'd sought as parents, sacrificing our integrity to Hank in a vain attempt at keeping us whole. The reality of Kerri quitting college to ply her new trade on her back or knees was a brutal blow to Emma's crumbling sense of parenthood and moral resolve.

Kellen's conversion to family autocrat, however, was worse still, as without signs of remorse or compassion, our manipulated son had grown uncontrollably selfish, depraved, and mercenary, exploiting his demoralized mother without conscience.

Now that Kerri was less available to quench his incessant sexual thirst, his demands for Emma's subservience and obedience to his every dictate became disturbingly more callous and degrading.

Sadly, Hank's cultivation of Kellen's emerging Alpha-male, undermining the foundation of the respectful and caring young man we had raised, was proving the final straw in breaking Emma's spirit and turning her into the shameless, immoral slut wife I never imagined possible when I first met my sweet bride.

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

In the weeks after Kerri left, I observed with fascination and alarm the acceleration of Emma's decline from responsible wife and mother to randy, cock-hungry slut under Kellen's dominion. Certainly, some vestiges of her naturally decent character remained, but even those fine attributes were gradually eroding under the crushing weight of her enforced licentiousness and promiscuity.

Introspective by nature, on a sunny Saturday morning only a week after Kerri left, Emma's lovely green eyes cast a distant stare over the rim of her coffee cup, her lush lips curled above the hot java with her mind lost in reflection on a troubling thought.

"You know what today is, Ray?" my wife asked with a flat, emotionless tone, breaking the silence but looking past me sitting opposite in our comfortable breakfast nook drinking my own steaming mug of bitter brew.

"Um, well," I stammered, racking my brain, knowing it wasn't our anniversary or her birthday but, as with so many forgetful husbands, coming up empty as to the import of the day.

"Honey, it's been a year," Emma answered plainly. "One year since we visited Hank Allenby's office. One year since he made me strip naked for his inspection, took control of our lives, and stole Kerri and Kellen's lives too."

"Oh yes, you're right," I said contritely about a life-changing date I'd prefer to have forgotten, realizing it should be permanently etched in my mind as it was clearly seared into my wife's.

"One year since your boss began turning me into, well, this," she observed dishearteningly, sweeping her hand down her torso and looking me in the eye as I followed.

Physically much the same, Emma remained a remarkably beautiful and enticing woman - her skin clear and creamy smooth, her chestnut hair reaching her shoulders and pulled back in her usual ponytail with her piercing emerald eyes dancing mischievously above a classically sculpted nose and plush ruby lips designed perfectly for encircling the fat knob of a hard cock.

Emma's body, albeit a touch slimmer and well-toned, was now even more head-turning - her 5'10" frame majestic, her long legs muscular and shapely, and of course, the most incredible set of upright DD tits projecting boldly and unavoidable to even the most discreet eye.

Today, and nearly every day, Emma's outfit was dictated by the salacious whims of our exacting son and was decidedly different than the classy but conservative look she fostered throughout our marriage, and for that fact, her entire life.

Gone were the heavy blouses buttoned to the neck or baggy sweaters intentionally designed to obscure the prodigious size of her large chest from people's gaping eyes.

Gone were the loose jeans minimizing her glorious ass or the concealing skirts below the knee keeping men's wandering gaze from her striking legs.

Gone was the light make-up accenting her tremendous beauty and classic facial features, usually adorned by nothing more than simple diamond studs or modest hoop earrings.

Only Emma's gold wedding ring remained as the singular reminder of our marital vows, now desecrated and fouled so thoroughly it served merely to ridicule the faded promise of our fidelity, rather than as a sacred symbol of our enduring love sharing a life together.

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

Lamentably, Hank was remaking our impressionable son into his own perverse image, and sadly, Kellen was learning well. By leveraging his mother's feminine charms and killer body, almost magically my boss tapped into a hidden well of Kellen's dominant tendencies.

In elevating our power-crazed young man to his current position of authority, Hank made it clear he could just as easily take it away if he didn't demonstrate a capacity to use it. With that threat as incentive, Kellen took every opportunity to use, share, or display his humbled mother, and in the most embarrassing circumstances.

"Dad, I think we need a security system in the house," he remarked out of the blue one day, showing me a sophisticated and very expensive package of hi-def, motion activated cameras and sensitive sound recording devices.

It was a poorly disguised ruse to mic and video every room in our house, except Kellen's own bedroom and bathroom coincidentally. Although he slept most nights with his mother in my former bedroom, I guess he needed a sanctuary to escape to when needing privacy.

That wasn't a luxury afforded his parents with every other room of the house wired, with special emphasis on the shower and bed in our bedroom. Even Kerri's room was wired, despite the fact she rarely stayed over, but Kellen is nothing if not thorough.

Frankly, I was surprised Hank hadn't required the addition earlier in our servitude, but I guess he had other priorities. Regardless, it cost a pretty penny. I know because I signed the invoice, and our house was completely under surveillance with the master panel on Kellen's laptop and under his exclusive control.

I was pleased that Emma still talked openly to me of her thoughts and innermost feelings about her demoralizing plight, and especially about her remorse over Kerri and Kellen's lost innocence.

Thankfully, at least given my own pathetic condition, she didn't spare me from the excruciating details of her exploits with our son or other men. Whether a deliberate form of revenge, or graciously knowing it got me terribly aroused, Emma's vivid descriptions of getting fucked senseless always left me bursting my unbreakable cage.

For example, just for a laugh, Kellen once made his mother answer the door for a parcel delivery wearing only a brief robe open at the front exposing the soft inner skin of her alabaster breasts and bald pussy.

On another occasion, he made her lay topless on the patio as the pool guy worked around her reclining body. As a thoughtful gift to me, he had me sit impotently nearby watching the pleased fellow's furtive glances at her naked tits on display sloping beautifully to the sides of her chest.

I'm guessing it was the best 'tip' the guy ever received after cleaning our pool for nearly 10 years and certainly fantasizing about what the busty lady of the house hid beneath her modest one-piece bathing suits, as many other men did too.

Frankly, at this point, embarrassing Emma was a rather difficult task, especially considering her scandalous outfits, lewd behavior, and the sheer number of men and women she'd bedded over the past year.

Still, Kellen was game to try if it kept him in Hank's favor, feeding his burgeoning addiction for power and depraved sex with his mother and a passel of accommodating women, including his Aunt Betsy, Anja Bradley, and Mrs. Stanley.

Neither Emma nor I saw Kerri much, which was undoubtedly on purpose, sparing herself sex with Don Stanley in favor of her disreputable occupation selling her body to any man willing to pay the price.

Painfully, I watched Kerri's natural ingenuousness gradually consumed by a calculating, coldhearted side I didn't much like. Her only concern was for her much-loved mother, very likely because Emma was the one women understanding and sharing her plight.

Of course, everyone likes a new toy, so with Kerri out of the house and his mother a well-worn commodity, for a brief period after Mrs. Stanley shockingly exposed herself as a craven cockslut, rather than merely a surrogate grandmother.

Kellen took an almost obsessive fascination with fucking the gratified matron in every position and room of our house, and the Stanley's home too. He even introduced Tim Bradley to her bed, with both young hunks taking a perverse joy roughly screwing the kindly older woman next door as frequently as they wanted, which was a lot.

Audrey didn't mind in the least, happily doing as Kellen ordered, stripping naked the moment she walked through our front door, and essentially playing the older vamp to a pair of muscular studs with perpetually hard cocks in an untold fantasy come true.

"Ahhh, Kellen, fuck me hard! Damn you have a big cock," the gray-blonde vixen howled from my former bedroom on more than one occasion, at least when her mouth wasn't stuffed full of Tim's stiff pole.

Involuntarily, I learned that the nice old lady next door was highly vocal when expressing her needs to her young lovers, and not bashful about pleading for more harsh treatment at the height of passion.

"Slap my ass, Kel. Pound me into next week with your beautiful cock," Audrey begged, desperate to live every fantasy she ever had as the personal shag pad of two virile young men.

I have no idea what Don thought of the arrangement, but I'm wondering if he harbored any regrets about introducing Audrey into the affairs of our family, and more importantly, surrendering her to our overindulgent son. I'm guessing he wasn't too happy about Audrey becoming an enthusiastic cock socket for Kellen and Tim.

With Kerri gone and our son controlling Emma's every move, I suspect the horny old codger wasn't getting the benefit of the bargain he initially anticipated, leaving him without much of an outlet.

I bet Don often lamented from his own easy chair watching Audrey get power fucked by Kellen, or Tim, or both, and I doubt watching his beloved wife getting hammered turned him on nearly to the degree watching Emma did me.

Sadly, our family's descent into scandal was also increasingly public, with Kellen intentionally dressing his formerly modest mother in shockingly indecent clothing just this side of legality, while trashing Emma's well-earned reputation for respectability and decorum in the narrow view of our conservative community.

The uneasy suspicions of our neighbors weren't surprising considering the friendly suburban wife and mother in the nice house down the street was now traipsing about town decked out as a big-titted cougar prowling for young men, braless with her taut nipples brazenly poking against a t-shirt so tight it looked painted on.

"I mean, that type of thing is bound to draw notice, right?" I assumed, realizing she never failed drawing my own male gaze, and I'm married to the unfortunate woman.

Of course, Emma was terribly embarrassed wearing such outrageous fashions, especially when the snug tops did nothing to hide the obvious impression of her one-inch nipple rings, but Kellen demanded it.

"Everything goes, mom," our determined son had ordered one day soon after assuming control, pointing at her closet and dresser, and forcing her to dispose of every decent article of clothing she owned.

"Dad will buy you new clothes, but I'm picking them out," he explained, making me flex some credit card power in purchasing an entirely new wardrobe of his choosing - skirts, tops, shorts, and of course, sexy underwear.

Unsurprisingly for a recently turned 19-year-old demi-god warped by too much power too soon, Kellen had his mother shopping at young women's clothing stores unbecoming her mature age.

Immodestly, he required Emma to model even the scantiest outfits on the store's display floor, one time even making her pose seductively before an audience of appreciative onlookers in an indecently skimpy yellow bikini, or worse, lacy lingerie intended for the bedroom rather than the public, all as I stood aside silently watching the show.

"Hey folks, which one looks best, the black silk teddy or the red satin camisole?" our impetuous son queried the small collection of men gathered to enjoy the impromptu show, directing his mom to turn with a twirl of his finger and asking their opinion before making his selection.

"I'd bang the lady in either," an anonymous guy opined crudely. "Doesn't look like her husband is up for the job."

I assumed he was referring to me standing impassively nearby, and may have even guessed at the maternal relationship between the gorgeously stacked model and the impertinent young man, but simply not caring while focused only on my half-naked wife.

"Does it really matter? I'd have them off her the second we got to the bedroom," another man called shamelessly to concurring nods by the rest of the onlookers.

"You're right. She'll take both," Kellen agreed, turning to me and nonchalantly confirming the family bond to the astonished audience with his next words. "Dad, pay the saleswoman while mom gets dressed."

The net result was that my now 40-year-old wife dressed like a racy 20-year-old coed, and in fact could have swapped outfits with Kerri were it not for the broad beam of Emma's ass compared to our daughter's considerably slimmer frame.

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

In an oddly thankful but amplifying twist to the new reality, Anja Bradley's behavior was even worse than Emma's as the duo became fast friends and partners in crime - hanging around together, fucking a lot of young baseball players as I stood humiliated nearby, and basically soiling their good reputations in the community.