The Rule of Three Pt. 03-04

THE RULE OF THREE

Please read the Standard Disclaimer on Alextasy's biography page

: : :

Previously, from PART 2 - THE RULE OF THREE

"Jesse?" Rachel said in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay if I call you 'Daddy'?"

"Only when it's just the two of us."

"Okay, Daddy." I could hear the glee in her voice.

I let it sit for about half a minute.

"What happened between you and your father? Did he lie to you?"

She didn't say anything. I felt her body shaking. She sniffled and wiped her nose.

"He... promised he was coming home." The shaking got stronger, and I pulled her to my chest. "He promised, Jesse! He promised..."

: : :

PART 3 - THE CUPID STUNT RETURNS

The sun was bright on my eyelids. When I finally forced one eye open, my former sister-in-law Rachel was smiling back at me.

"What time is it?" I said.

"It's time for Daddy to fuck his little girl."

"What did I tell you about your pussy? It's mine. Until you leave here, I'm in control. I decide when, where, how, and who makes her happy."

"Did you say 'who'?"

"Good girls get special nights with my special friends."

"You would make me fuck somebody else?"

"Is that a problem?"

"It's just... I've never known a guy who would let another man have his woman."

His woman... My woman. I couldn't let myself go there.

"It's not about me or him. It's about what my pussy needs, and only when I think she deserves special attention. I'm very selective in the partners I choose."

I didn't bother to mention that the "partners" I choose might include assertive women with a wicked, cruel streak.

She said, "Are you going to fuck other women?"

"Probably. I'm very selective."

"I don't get a choice?"

"I'll listen if you have something to say about it. Like with everything else, it's my decision. You always have the Rule of Three if you object to something."

She was quiet for a few seconds, thinking.

"Okay."

She suddenly thrust her face forward for a kiss, but backed away at the last moment and gasped, her fingers over her mouth.

"Oopsies. I almost forgot the rule about not touching you without permission. May I please kiss you, sir?"

I couldn't have been more proud of her.

"I have morning breath."

"Doesn't matter to me," Rachel said--yet another difference from her sister. "We can brush if it makes you feel better."

"I have a better idea. How about I take a swig of my favorite morning mouthwash?"

I threw the covers off her and slid myself down to pull her thighs around my face.

She immediately pushed my head away. "I'm still all messy down there."

"Listen. This is my pussy. This is my semen. If you can eat it, so can I."

"Damn, Jesse. Annie told me you could be arrogant and cruel, but this? It's like all the rules are out the window, and I'm Alice in Wonderland. Is my sister a cupid stunt, or what?"

That was a question I couldn't answer.

I dove in with lips, fingers and tongue to force an orgasm from her, quick as I could. There would be time for finesse later. Right now, I just wanted her primed for fucking. I licked my middle finger. Twisting the top knuckle into her butt brought on her first trip to paradise. I pondered making her wear an app-controlled vibrating butt plug all day until I was ready to introduce her to the pleasures hidden in her final, uncharted domain.

Ding-dong.

Who the fuck would ring my doorbell at this time of the morning? I peeked at the clock. Nearly ten. Shit. I was usually up by six. I always felt like the day was shot to hell when I slept late.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

Bastard was persistent. Probably neighborhood kids selling magazines or school candy. I gave Rachel a pussy-flavored kiss, and she grabbed my head to give my face a lick, her first offense of the day. I had no doubt she was well aware.

I said, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Hurry. I haven't had a tongue down there for months. Brian doesn't like the smell."

No wonder her pussy was frustrated with him.

She twiddled a finger over her clit. "Mind if I keep myself ready?"

"So long as you remember you are not allowed to come until I tell you."

"Yes, Daddy. Your little girl would never do that. Unless she needs another spanking."

I had created a fucking monster.

"If I spank you now, I could seriously damage your skin. I'll have to resort to some other punishment."

"Like what?"

"You know what a wand is?"

"Like a magic wand?"

"Some think of it that way. My wand will take your clit from zero to over-the-moon in under two minutes."

"Serious? You can do that?"

She got a big smile when I nodded with my own devious grin.

She said, "That's supposed to be torture?"

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

"You know what's worse than eight orgasms in ten minutes?"

"Uh, what?"

"The ninth orgasm in ten minutes"

It didn't take her long to reason it out.

"Oh. Ouch." She stroked her clit tenderly with a single fingertip.

"Yeah. Don't start what you don't want me to finish."

She jerked her finger away.

Anne's record at the end of my wand was fourteen in fifteen minutes before she shouted, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" She never swapped my coffee with Dunkin' Donuts brand again.

Thump-thump-thump-thump!

Who the fuck was banging on my door? What the hell was so damned important on a Saturday morning?

I left Rachel pondering what she could handle while I slipped into my pants and trudged down the stairs, bare-chested, thinking about all the other ways I could mistreat the saucy nymph upstairs over the next couple of days. First thing, if she wanted to go any further, she had to call her fiancé.

Thump-thump--

I jerked the door open to tell the sonofabitch to wait a fucking minute. Anne looked up at me, her eyes red and tear-stained. Her favorite party dress looked like she'd slept in it.

"Oh, Jesse!" My ex-wife leapt up on me, her arms tight around my neck and weeping against my chest.

"I can't find her anywhere!" She sobbed. "We were at a crowded bar last night, and she just disappeared. I got a couple of texts from her, then she didn't answer any more! Nobody's seen her since around midnight. I don't know what to do!"

I stroked her back and played the innocent.

"Who is it you're looking for?"

"Rachel!" she said. "She's getting married, and we held her bachelorette party last night. She said she was going to the bathroom at the bar. That's the last we saw of her. I'm afraid she's been kidnapped and somebody's hurting her."

Well, she was half right. Her little sister better remember to stay put, as she was told.

"I'm sure she'll turn up." I said. "She's a big girl now. She's probably just got the jitters. You remember how it was."

"This isn't like Rachel. She's so naive. She's got those rose-colored glasses on and doesn't understand how things are in the real world. I swear I hate the bitch sometimes, but she's my little sister. If I find out some guy is fucking around with her, I'm gonna cut his worthless dick off and feed it to him."

We both heard the familiar squeak on the fifth step at the same time. Anne's head jerked up. I didn't bother.

Rachel said, "Do you want me to get rid of the cupid stunt?"

I closed my eyes and steeled myself for the eruption of Mount Anne. I pictured her sharp-toed high-heel already swinging up toward my gonads. Then she would really start hurting me.

"You bitch! You fucking... whore slut bitch! You were here the whole time? Everybody was searching all over town for you, and you were fucking my husband."

"Your ex-husband," Rachel snapped back. "You were so fucking stupid and selfish, you threw him away, remember? Well, guess what, big sister? I'm here now, and I don't plan on leaving."

I turned around to look. She was in one of my dirty T-shirts, just like her sister used to wear around the house.

Anne moved toward the stairs. "You can't have him! He's mine!"

She said, "Yeah? Since when?"

"We've been... talking. A lot."

Rachel cackled. "Talking? When was the last time he fucked you? When was the last time he ate his cum out of your filthy cunt? When was the last time he gave you one of these?"

She twisted her hips around and lifted the tee to show her bruised and whipped bottom.

So much for the promise she wouldn't rat me out to her big sister.

"Hah! That's nothing!" Anne said. "I can show you pictures after a paddling, thirty hits from his crop, and five from a cane. Wait 'til you get a taste of that. You'll be running home to Mom, crying."

"Will not! I'm gonna give him my virgin butt today. Did you give him a virgin anything?"

Anne edged closer. "Just wait till I call Mom! She's gonna be so pissed you're fucking around on Brian."

"Yeah? Call her. Remind her what a cupid stunt you were. Remind her how she said she would do anything to keep Jesse in the family."

Oh? That was interesting... But I couldn't have them calling their mother. I didn't want this to blow up any further than it already had.

Anne shouted. "I'm trying to get him back, bitch! At least I was until your fat ass got in the way!"

"Fat ass?" Rachel came down a step looking like she was ready to pounce. "Whose new, size-twelve granny panties were those in the wash?"

"Size twelve? Granny? You fucking--"

I grabbed Anne's arm and yanked her back as she put her foot on the first step. I shoved myself between them and bellowed.

"Enough!"

They both went silent, glaring at each other.

"You!" I aimed my finger at Rachel with a threatening look that made her cringe. "I told you to stay upstairs, didn't I?"

"Oopsies..." Her voice was quiet. She didn't look at me, but she was smirking.

"And you!" I turned to Anne. "Your sister is fine. She's staying here for a few days while I help her work through some... issues."

Both women snorted.

"Issues..." Anne said. She came up on her toes and sniffed my face, then gave me a sidelong look. "Does her 'issue' taste as good as mine?"

"I don't know." I turned on my grouch. "We just got started when we were interrupted."

"Maybe we should do a direct comparison, side-by-side."

Rachel said, "You'd have to get a load of his cum in that ugly, stinky pussy of yours and let it ferment overnight."

"I'm good with that," Anne said, looking to me. "How about it, Jesse? You got a hot injection for me, or has my little sister sucked it all out of you?"

Rachel said. "He's yummy."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Okay, this was getting weird. I needed them calm so we could talk this over. A public place would help. Someplace that served decent coffee. With a shot of espresso. No, two shots.

"Rachel, get your dress on, and we'll all head over to Lou's diner for breakfast."

Anne headed for the kitchen. "Whatcha got in the fridge?"

Rachel followed along the hall behind her saying she saw some potatoes on the counter she could cut up for home fries if they were still good. Anne told her don't forget the onions, "... because he loves onions in his fried potatoes, and his onion breath is worse than any of his whips." They both cackled. They made a shopping list, and Anne gave me a smooch before she took off to the store while Rachel prepped the vegetables.

I made my coffee and showed Rachel where to find Anne's old drip maker and some filters, and she made a pot for the two of them.

I'm not the brightest guy around, but I got a tingle of apprehension that I'd just made a big mistake.

* * *

The two women worked seamlessly together in the kitchen, as family can do. Rachel had perfected their mother's sour-cream pancake recipe that Anne never quite got. Thin, moist, and rich as brioche, they hardly needed syrup. Anne's bacon had that right blend of crispy and chewy I hadn't enjoyed since she left.

I'd forgotten how much fun it could be with the two of them. Despite the sporadic vicious bickering, they usually kept their sibling rivalry below the surface. We talked and laughed around the table. For the first time in over two years, my house felt like home.

Sitting at the head of the table, I peered out through the large windows into the narrow back yard while the two sisters babbled on about some friend of theirs.

The garden was a disgrace. Anne used to keep flowers blooming nearly year-round. The bushes were always trimmed, and she loved her thick, green lawn. She kept me busy feeding it, aerating the soil, and mowing and de-thatching.

I missed feeding her my cock, aerating her pussy, and de-thatching her meaty, round butt. We always had a blast when I trimmed her bush. We had been talking about planting our own little flower to grow inside her when everything went to shit.

At a lull in the conversation, Anne asked how Rachel ended up here last night. Rachel told her sister about her worries that Brian was just like all the other guys she'd dated. They were so dumb sometimes. They all handled her body like it was some delicate machine made for sex.

She had seen how happy I made Anne, and she'd overheard discussions about the way I treated her. Anne had hinted at some painful things, trying to scare her, but it got her more excited instead. Early on, Rachel started abusing herself during her daily multiple self-help sessions, and she realized she wanted the same as her sister. After I slapped her butt once that day at the beach, she'd gone straight to her room and listened to her sister's cries while she masturbated to the most incredible orgasm she'd ever had.

Then, last night, she decided she couldn't wait any longer. She had to know. Rachel apologized for scaring Anne, but there was no way she could tell her big sister where she was going, and why.

"Tell her the rest," I said.

She gawked at me while Anne looked back and forth between us, trying to figure out what was going on.

Finally, Rachel lowered her head. She was pushing the food around on her plate.

"I don't know any men like Jesse. He's strong, and sure of himself, and makes me feel warm when he holds me. I think mostly, it's because he's an older man, almost as old as Dad when he..." She bit her quivering lower lip.

A tiny gasp came from Anne.

Rachel said, "I think you were out on a date the night before he went back to the Middle East the last time. I had a big argument with him about leaving us again. I was still angry with him the next morning, and I refused to talk to him before he left, but he promised me this was the last time, and he would come home soon. Then he was... gone."

Anne rushed around the table to hug her little sister, and they cried together. Anne told her she was crushed, too. She was a little older, a teenager, but it still hurt. She found sex distracted her from the pain. That helped, but it never completely went away.

She raised her head and looked at me. "Then I found Jesse."

"Yeah, he's pretty awesome," Rachel said.

I was accustomed to a certain level of respect from my sluts. The adoration in their red, teary eyes made me uncomfortable.

Anne smirked at her sister, "Did you really call him 'Daddy' this morning?"

They both laughed.

"He's my new Daddy," Rachel said.

Anne said, "What about Brian?"

I interjected before Rachel could spin it.

"I promised her two days with me. Then she can decide. She committed to talking to him on Monday."

Anne told her sister, "Mom's gonna be ultra-pissed if you drop out now. All the money she put into your wedding?"

"I'm sorry as hell, but I'm not living my whole damned life with an ignorant wimp who doesn't know a clit from a light switch."

Anne looked to me for help.

"It's her choice," I said. "I will do what I can to help her make the right choice."

"And if she chooses to stay?"

"The truth?" I looked at both of them. "I don't think we could ever be like you and I were, but if she decides to go further, I think we'd all hate to see her fall in with some ignorant wannabe. Ultimately, it's her choice. I won't turn her away."

One sister's face lit up. The other one fell.

Anne sighed. "Well, my job is done. It looks like she's in good hands." The bitterness was not subtle. "I guess you don't need me around here."

I took hold of her forearm. Like the grip, my tone was soft, yet firm.

"Yes, I do."

She searched my eyes.

I released her. "Sit down." When she took her seat again, I said, "I deserve an explanation. Without shouting this time."

I already knew most of the story. I had guessed at the rest. I wasn't completely right.

Rachel's crush was no secret to my ex. Anne admitted she was jealous of her cute sister, but that wasn't the big problem. She knew from experience that if I got two women in bed together, I would inevitably make one submissive to the other. She couldn't stand the idea of being under her little sister's thumb and didn't want to cause a problem with me by refusing to put her tongue in her sister.

Both women pulled a face at each other. "Yuck!".

Rachel apologized to Anne for acting like such a silly teenage slut. She admitted that part of it was to bait her beautiful and successful older sister who had the greatest husband in the world.

With sad, downcast eyes Anne confessed that was all happening at about the same time as another man started getting into her head. He had seen some bruises and slowly wormed his way in, telling her that Jesse was just another wife-beater who was probably already fucking her innocent little sister.

"Glen Hollister," I said.

"You knew?"

Anne worked as a paralegal for a battered women's center. Glen was one of the lawyers.

"Neither of you were especially secretive. An acquaintance passed on some snippets they overheard between you."

Some of the women who came to the center fell into bad situations because they enjoyed the salsa sting on their skin, but got caught up in harmfully abusive relationships with men who didn't know when to stop. Anne and I worked behind the scenes to assist those women in their search for a caring environment appropriate to their unique desires. They appreciated talking to a non-threatening man who could help them make sense of what they were looking for, and why. It was one of those women who relayed to me what Glen was saying to Anne.

She said, "Why didn't you tell me? You could have made me stop talking to him. Three snaps, that's all it would've taken."

I reached across the table and held her hand.

"It had to be your choice. You know how I work. I would never make you do anything I believed you didn't want to do."

She lowered her head and nodded. "You and I were talking about babies. He was smooth. He got me thinking that you wouldn't slow down once I got pregnant. I couldn't get the idea of you hurting our baby out of my head."

"Do you really believe I'm that violent? That I could lose control over myself and endanger you? Or our child?"

She squeezed my hand. "Not really. It was just a silly emotional thing Glen kept pushing. I was stupid to listen to him. He only wanted to get into my pants."

I didn't say anything, waited for an answer.

"He never did," she said. "I told him I wouldn't think about it until the divorce was final. The night after I got the papers, he took me out, then we came back to my apartment. He was a pig. He fingered me on the sofa, that's all. He had no clue what a clitoris was and thought five minutes of rough finger-banging was enough to get me juiced up before he flopped out his pecker and said, 'I need to be inside you.' I was hardly damp. I kicked him out."

She broke into a spell of crying, and I squeezed her hand.

"That was the moment I realized what I'd thrown away." She looked at me. "I won't lie. After that, I tried to get back into the scene. Nobody came close to the love I felt from you. Everything seemed like it was scripted. Anne gets a butt plug and titty clips. Anne gets a whipping. The Dom fucks Anne and she comes when he pulls off the titty clips. Then he pulls out the butt plug and comes up her ass."

Rachel said, "Is a butt plug what I think it is?"

Anne and I glanced at each other. We burst out laughing.

I made a decision. When we calmed down, I said, "I want you to come back, Anne. What do I have to do to get you to stay?"

She looked over at Rachel then back at me. "No girl-girl stuff between us?"

"I can't guarantee you won't taste her on my dick or my face."

Both women shrugged. I pulled Anne onto my lap, and we shared a loving kiss I'd missed too long. She didn't react to the mess around my mouth.

Rachel said, "How is this supposed to work?"

Anne laughed and said, "Like everything else. However he says it does."

"You still have to deal with Brian," I told Rachel.

"I'll think about it. Right now, I can't see any way I'm going back to pussy-boy."

I cringed inwardly at her attitude. She hadn't given him a chance. The poor guy didn't have a clue how close he was to losing his fiancée. If only Brian had been lucky enough to meet a woman who could teach him what I learned from Professor Pop.

Then again, maybe I knew an experienced woman who could show him the ropes. And the whips, and the chains. Yeah, that might work. It was gonna hurt, probably me most of all, but I had a responsibility to do something for the good of everyone. We didn't have much time, so it would only be a kick-start. If he could handle that, we could go further later.

I told Anne, "If you really want to come back, I have an important job you can do for me. For all of us."

"Anything," she said. "And I hope you know I mean exactly that. Just tell me what I have to do."

"I'll need to talk with somebody and line everything up before I can say for sure what's going to happen. Regardless, I expect it will be uncomfortable for you for a few days."

"Doesn't matter. I'm in. But if I do this like you want, I'll have some things I need from you, too."

I didn't need to ask what those were. At least one involved rings and an officiant. Another would probably concern her maternal clock. It was something she'd mentioned frequently back before things went to shit.

"We'll work out the details once I know what I can tell you more."

The women started cleaning up after breakfast, yammering on about all the things that needed to be done to the house and the yard, getting a truck to move the furniture back, and essentials to pick up from the grocery store.

I stepped out in the yard and made a call.

When I came back in, Rachel was vacuuming and Anne was mopping the kitchen floor with gray, sudsy water that smelled like artificial pine sap--I hadn't realized it was that filthy. I went upstairs for a shower, then put on a dress shirt, slacks and a sport jacket.

"Where are you going?" Rachel said when I came down.

"I have a meeting. I'll be back in an hour or two."

"A meeting? On a Saturday?" Anne said. "I thought we could spend some make-up time together before we got into the hard stuff. Can you remember when I last had your hand on my backside and your beautiful dick inside me?"

Yes, that day was burned into my gray cells. It was not a pleasant occasion.

"Be patient. I promise we'll re-connect when I get back. I have some things to take care of first."

Her suspicion ramped up. "Anybody I know?" She looked worried.

"Not a woman, if that's what you're asking. Not in over a month."

That satisfied her. She knew I wouldn't lie.

I gave each of them a lingering kiss, Rachel first, then Anne.

"Show your sister how I expect to be greeted when I come home," I told my hopefully-soon-to-be-former-ex.

She grinned.

* * *

The white brick country club was a post-modern design, with manicured, putting-green-quality lawns and sculpted evergreens lining the wide, circular lane where I drove in and dropped off my car. When I handed the key to the young black valet, he stared at the car.

"Cool ride, man. What is it?"

"Borgward Isabella, '59."

If things worked out as I expected at home, I would need a bigger car soon.

The valet walked around it, admiring the contoured, cream-colored design. I was confident he would take care of my "cool ride."

I didn't golf, and I wasn't a member of any country club, but I'd been here for meetings with clients. It wasn't one of those places where you had to know someone to get in, but they still had their ways of maintaining an air of exclusivity. I had no desire to ever join any club like that.

At the restaurant, I told the maître d' who I was meeting, and he seated me at a prominent table. My belly was still full from breakfast, and from previous visits, I knew the coffee tasted like cardboard, so all I ordered was an Irish coffee.

I watched the door and waved Rachel's fiancé over when he came in. He'd told me he would still be in his tennis outfit after a lesson. Tennis was good practice. A strong, accurate swing and a steady follow-through were both critical skills. I decided I should get back on the courts again. Anne was my preferred mixed-doubles partner, so the game hadn't held much interest after she left.

Brian was certainly a handsome man, tall, a strong jaw, deep-set eyes, an even tan and lean muscles on his arms and legs. I guessed he was a swimmer, too. He had an easy, disarming smile I was sure was a hit with the ladies. A lock of hair dangled over his right brow, adding to his charming, carefree little-boy look. Women had probably fawned over him for years. If my information was correct, his personality matched his appearance.

We would soon find out whether he had it in him to be not-so-sweet.

"Hello, Brian," I said, standing to greet him.

His handshake was firm, not overbearing. Good so far. On the phone I had told him I was Rachel's former brother-in-law.

"You said we needed to talk about Rach. Is she okay? She had her hen party last night, but I haven't heard from her since."

No sense soft-pedaling it. He was bound to find out, anyway.

"She showed up at my house around midnight. She wanted me to fuck her. I gave her what she wanted."

His eyes blazed and his jaw tightened. Barely seconds later, the rage seemed to drain out of him.

"This is about what I did, isn't it? Did she send you here to gloat? Is this going to make her happy?"

"This is about your marriage, Brian. I'm here to help you save it. Right now, she's planning to cancel the wedding."

That got his attention.

The waitress came. The two of them seemed uncommonly friendly. Brian ordered a sandwich and a sweet iced-tea. My coffee was gone, so I ordered an unsweet, extra lemon, then I filled him in on some of the things I did with his fiancée. He didn't say much but he winced and seemed shocked at the appropriate places.

"She... wanted you to beat her?"

"Don't think of it as 'beating'. Think of it as a unique and intense form of foreplay." As I explained the physiology of spanking, I caught the flickering of smiles at the corners of his mouth.

"She would never tell you this, but she wants you to control her," I told him. "Before she can trust you with her most secret desires and let you take charge, she will need you to prove you have the inner strength to control yourself."

His lunch and my drink arrived. I let him take a couple of bites to give him time to absorb the changes that were happening. He eyed nearly every woman that passed by, a bad sign, but I was committed to giving him this chance.

I launched into a simplified discussion of power exchange, and how that works in my version of an ideal marriage, where the woman has the power, but she hands the reins to her husband, with safeguards and a healthy measure of equality for each. If everything was balanced, she got to parade her doting husband, and his ego enjoyed reveling in its neanderthal heritage. She could feel safe letting her guard down to enjoy her submissive nature, confident that she could stop the carnival ride at any time.

When I told him that, I couldn't stop the thought... the way Anne did. It still hurt, and I had no clue how long those feelings would take to heal.

"Should I be taking notes?" Brian chuckled.

"Are you willing to set aside all those things your mother told you about what girls want? Do you think you can stop being the 'wimp' your fiancée called you?"

"She said I was a wimp?"

I could see his temper rising.

"Three critical rules for you," I counted them off on my fingers. "One--don't ever touch her while you're angry. Two--no matter how cruel or painful you are, everything you do must be focused on what she needs, and it must come from your heart."

Brian paused to think about those.

"You said three rules."

I raised the third finger.

"The most important rule of all--don't ever lie to her. Not ever."

Brian's face fell.

"You've done it once," I said. "It nearly killed any chance you had. She didn't give a damn that you fucked that other woman. You could have fucked a dozen women. She hated you for lying to her."

"Really?"

I nodded. I would leave the discussion up to her about why that was a particularly painful spot for her.

"Do you love Rachel?" I said.

"More than any woman I've known."

"We'll see," I said. "Do you love her enough to let me work with her the rest of this week?"

"Work with her? You mean...?"

"Yes, I will use her body and explore the limits of her kinkiest desires."

"Why the hell should I let you do that?"

I explained my plan. He listened and asked a few pointed questions. He was patient and had a sharp mind. If he accepted, those would serve him well.

In finishing, I said, "When I left her, your wedding was toast. I won't lie to you. This is not going to be easy. We don't have much time. Despite what you probably think, she loves you. If you truly love her, and you're willing to make the sacrifice, I believe you will have a marriage that most men would envy."

He sat back and pondered his choices. His manner eased and I could tell he was warming to the idea.

"Before you decide, there is one other thing you need to know," I told him. "Trust me, this is the hardest part of all. You will have to learn how to control a woman with the barest of touches and by the way you move. You will need to understand the mechanics of a woman's body, so you don't push her past physical limits. Unfortunately, I know of only one way to learn those skills."

"How do I do that?"

"Dance lessons."

* * *

The same young black valet brought my Isabella back to me. His name tag said "Robert."

He said, "Nice wheels, man. Smooth ride. Musta' put you back a hundred big ones, at least"

"You should be able to pick up one of these in decent shape for under thirty-K."

"For real?"

"It's not a performance machine. The engine's only 1.5 liter, but it's got a classic style. The kick is finding a mechanic who cares about rare cars."

"I like to work on old cars. I drive a Lotus Elan, '63, same size motor."

"Oh?" I handed him my business card. "Give me a call. I know a woman you might want to talk to." My mechanic was looking for help.

He looked at the card. "Thanks, Mr. Garmin."

"Tell me something, Robert. My little girl is dating a guy who's a member here. You know Brian Cleland?"

The smile on his face flattened.

"Yeah, I know him. His family, too."

I understood his attitude. I realized when I talked to Brian that I managed investments for their family. His father seemed to be pleasant enough, but his mother was a snooty battle-axe.

Robert said, "Which one of his girls is your daughter?"

Which one of his girls?

"Does he date a lot of different women?"

"Always showing up with some hot new snack."

"I take it you don't like him."

"Not supposed to say nothing."

That confirmed my suspicions.

"Yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble. I just met with him. Have you seen him over the last few days?"

"Here last night with some blonde."

My suspicions went on high alert. Butterflies swirled in my stomach.

"Was she an older woman? Well-built, average height? Late twenties?"

"Nah, young chickie. Short girl with big mamas. She half drunk, nearly threw up on me. That your girl?"

My nerves relaxed. "No, I was thinking of somebody else. Mine has dark hair, red highlights."

"Yeah, I seen her with him. Pretty girl. Nice legs." He glanced past me, over my shoulder. "Here he come."

I shook Robert's hand, passing him two twenties. That should make him happy.

"Thanks, guy," I said. "Don't forget to call me."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Garmin!"

* * *

On the way home, I called to let Anne know to be ready. Parking in the driveway, I saw five, large, heavy-duty trash bags out at the curb. When I walked through the door, my nostrils lit up with the smell of clean. They had been busy.

About six feet beyond the door were two naked women on their knees, bent forward in a prayer-like position with their foreheads touching the floor and their hands stretched out in front of them, palms down. It was a charmingly ancient slave pose, one of my favorites. A woman had to shuck all her pride to put herself in such a subservient position.

Anne had done well with her sister. Rachel was nearly perfect, except for a slight arch to her back, which was appropriate for some poses, just not this one. With time, she would get it right on command.

"What a beautiful sight," I said. "Come on in here and look at this, Brian."

"Brian!" Rachel screamed, sitting straight up, arms crossed over her breasts, and staring as her fiancé came through the door. "Ohmigod! Ohmigod!"

"Rachel. Down!" My tone was harsh. She didn't move.

Anne whispered sharply. "Rachel. Get back down. Now." My ex was well trained. She knew better than to move.

"But... ohmigod! I'm sorry, Brian." Tears came to her eyes.

I warned her. "Last chance. Get into position now, or he's leaving."

She dropped to the floor, not as clean a pose as before, but not bad. Her shoulders were shaking.

Turning back to Brian, I said, "This is the pose called 'Down.' She should greet you with this every day when you get home."

He raised a brow, leering at his nude, obedient bride. I had told him what to expect when we came in. We also spent some time discussing what he should say and do.

"So, this is my cheating slut of a fiancée," he said, looking over the women while he strolled around them.

"I'm so sorry, Brian!" Rachel wept, though still holding her pose. "Please don't hate me."

Anne twisted her head to lay her cheek flat on the floor, looking up at me. It was a permissible action so long as her head was touching the floor at all times. She gave me a warning look that I interpreted as I hope you know what you're doing.

I smiled and winked at her. She rolled her head down into position again.

"My, my, what's this?" Brian said, running his hand over the purple bruises and welts on her behind. "Looks like somebody's been a bad girl."

"Please, Brian. Let's talk about--Ouch! Fuck, that hurt!" she yelled when he gave her sore butt a solid smack. I was proud of him.

I caught his eye, nodded my approval, then gestured toward Anne to remind him of the other things we discussed.

He said, "And here's the worthless maid-of-honor who couldn't keep a handle on her little sister for one night."

He popped her bottom too, and she cried out "Oh!" mostly in surprise. He wasn't nearly as hard on her as he was on Rachel. I think he was distracted by his first look at his future sister-in-law's naked body.

"Why are you here?" Rachel said. "Did Jesse bring you? He told you, didn't he?"

"Jesse and I had a nice long talk about clueless wimps and canceled weddings," he said.

She screamed. "I fucking hate you, Jesse!"

I was more impressed that she didn't break her pose.

Anne was cool and uncommonly proper. "Do you mind explaining what's going on, Jesse dear?"

"Up!" I said, and Anne came up on her knees immediately, back straight, head forward, eyes down, and hands flat on her thighs. She prompted her sister to kneel up and copy her. Rachel's eyes were shooting poison darts at me.

I said to Brian, "You want to tell them about it?"

"It seems I've missed out on an important part of my pre-marital counseling," he said. "I plan to correct that over the next four days with the help of your maid-of-honor."

"With me?" Anne said, looking back at him then up at me.

"Did you say four days?" Rachel said.

He had told me both of them had the whole week off work to prepare for the wedding. I could take a few extra days of vacation, and I was sure Anne would do the same once she understood the plan.

Brian said, "From now until noon Wednesday, Jesse has assured me that his ex-wife will give me a crash course in how not to be a wimp."

"Ohmigod!" Rachel started crying again. "I didn't mean it like that, Brian. I love you. It's just--"

"Quiet, slut!" His sharp command was strong but not too loud, just like we practiced.

His bride's mouth snapped shut. She was flustered and trying to look at him behind her without turning her head. He had probably never spoken to her like that. Those days were over.

Anne was looking up at me with a proud smirk. "What is Rachel going to be doing while he and I are 'tied up'?"

I wondered if she knew Brian was an Eagle scout.

Brian said, "Since your ex-husband has already agreed to give her a two-day walk on the wild side, we're adding two more days."

I said, "That will leave three days before the wedding for any marks to fade away."

The astute Anne said, "What happens at the end of our four days?"

Again, I answered, "Rachel and Brian get to decide whether they want to move ahead with the wedding or call it quits."

Rachel looked at Brian. "You're seriously going to learn about all the stuff Jesse does?"

He went down on his knees next to her. "I love you, Rachel. I'll do anything to keep you happy. If this is what it takes, I will give it my best shot." He kissed her and she finally broke pose, turning to hug him.

"I love you, Brian. Can you forgive me?"

"If you can forgive me for being so ignorant. You tried to tell me, didn't you?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded. "You were so nice, and that made me ashamed of what I wanted. I was too embarrassed to say too much."

"Four days, huh?" Anne said. "We need to get to the store and pick up lots of protein and carbs to keep these guys going. Don't forget to add pineapple juice to the list."

"What's that for?" Rachel said.

"Makes their cum taste better. You liked Jesse's, didn't you?"

Rachel blushed and avoided Brian's gaze. He lifted her chin, bringing her eyes up to his.

"No more secrets. No more lies."

"Ohmigod!" she cried, then threw her arms around his neck again and laid a hot, steamy kiss on his lips.

I beckoned to Anne, and she came up on her feet and laid her arms around my waist.

"So, you and me," she said. "I gotta wait four days?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure your needy little pussy is going to stay busy."

"He's not you," she said. "I expect compensation." Her eyes were flashing in that sexy way I loved.

"What's on your mind? A week on a tropical beach?"

"If you're talking honeymoon, then yeah, that's getting close. I want my ring back. And I want your baby. Doesn't have to be in that order."

A warmth filled my chest. I couldn't speak. I leaned down for a tender kiss.

Rachel said to Brian, "I want to start having babies in a year or two."

He said, "We're not waiting. You're stopping your pills the minute you say 'I do'."

"But I'm not ready. I've still got another semester of school. Besides, this is my body. You can't tell me what to--Ow! Ow! Fuck, that hurt!" She rubbed her butt. The scowl couldn't hide her delight with her fiancé and his newfound boldness.

He said, "When we get married, you're giving this incredibly beautiful body to me. That means I make the rules. You obey them."

"Yes, sir," she cooed sweetly and kissed him. Anne and I laughed quietly. We all had challenges to deal with, but now we now had hope on our side. With openness and honesty, anything could happen.

* * *

Brian was reticent when I stipulated condoms for all penetrative sex, but considering his history, both women agreed, so he was voted down and accepted the decision with that affable smile of his that had started to grate on me.

The first two days I put Rachel through the ringer--paddles, whips, floggers, canes, bondage in painful positions, forced enemas, forced orgasms, and lots more. Searching for her limits, I choked her, pinched her, slapped her, snapped her toes with rubber bands, rolled a Wartenburg wheel over her breasts, thighs, and the soles of her feet, and threatened her with a blow torch, a dark closet, and plastic wrap stretched over her face. She came out smiling, and rarely asserted the Rule of Three--her orgasm limit with the wand was ten in twelve minutes. Brian was going to have his hands full with this one.

We talked about what happened with her father, and she admitted she had an uncontrollable need to win my approval, as if I were her real Daddy. The difference with me was, she got an immediate, fulfilling response when I was pleased with her, and an equally forceful reaction when I was not.

The next couple of days, I switched to low-impact, to reduce any marks. She was thrilled with her Shibari vest and wore her clit out again on the happy knot. I edged her for hours while drilling her on the important slave poses, and when they were used. Her favorite was PNT--pussy-nipple torture position--where she was arched up, facing the ceiling on her hands and feet like a crab, with clips on her nipples and her clit. She screamed and came like a volcano when I pinched her clit hard and wiggled it.

I blindfolded her, handcuffed her to the bed, and made her listen to me and Brian double-teaming Anne while we compared notes about how much more we enjoyed fucking Rachel's older sister, how much prettier she looked, and what a good cocksucker she was, so much better than her prissy little sister. Rachel was crying and said she hated it, but she didn't use the rule. Later she told both of us to never do that to her again. The smile she tried to pinch off and the twinkle in her eyes told me different.

It wasn't all torture. We went shopping every day, going to grocery stores, antique and junk shops, the mall, and a local sex store. Professor Pop taught me the importance of the simple, social act of shopping as a bonding experience, even if no one bought anything. The items in the stores that caught Rachel's eye and the way she experienced them with different senses offered a unique glimpse into her interests and desires, especially when we visited the sex store. She got a peek at my interests, too.

Rachel and I made love at least once each day, usually to re-establish our connection when I'd been particularly hard on her. Those moments were spectacular. We danced the bachata in my room, naked--her mother had insisted on dance lessons for both of them--then I laid her down to use my mouth and fingers over every inch of her skin before I entered her slowly.

I felt that same, instant sense of rightness with her that I once had with Anne, and I wondered if I had made the right choice. The two sisters were so much alike, yet so different. I loved both of them to my core, but I knew it was a fool's dream to think I could take on a pair of such strong-minded women. The rivalry between them would undoubtedly tear us apart. No, the Fates had decided for me. I would not argue, I would take my cupid stunt back, and I would be glad for my blessings.

On Sunday evening, Rachel and I dressed up and attended a party, then on Tuesday, it was a benefit gala. For both events, I instructed her to stay within sight of me as I moved around, but she wasn't allowed to come close enough to touch me. Instead, I gave her a mission to flirt. It was good for a woman's spirit to enjoy the occasional freedom to practice the feminine art of seduction, and to let other men's desire stroke her vanity. Just like with shopping, observing a woman plying her talents in the wild provided insight into her choices of men, her methods, and her tells, such as Rachel's tendency to attract the eyes of the men she liked to her breasts by playing with the edge of her dress's neckline.

The value of observing Rachel in those social situations was also similar to the reason I endorsed the role switch in public. A full-time subbie who wasn't allowed to flex her individuality now and then became bored and resentful. Back when Anne and I were married, the teasing and nagging my pseudo-dominant wife imposed on me when we were around her friends improved her self-esteem, and it gave her the autonomy to exercise another side of herself she might not reveal when she was under my direct control.

It could also provide subtle clues about her desires and dislikes, such as the time she made fun of me when we were tubing, drinking and carousing on the river with a group of friends late one summer Sunday.

"Next time I have him handcuffed to the bed, I'm putting his cock cage back on him for a whole month."

I was accustomed to her insults, but this was a new level. The people who didn't know us well gave me a range of facial expressions, from pity to sneers, and some of the men made disrespectful comments.

She had never had me in chastity, nor had I been handcuffed to anything except her. I was sure she expected me to give her three snaps and haul her home for a severe thrashing. Instead, I took it in good humor and joked about how the cage was the biggest size they made, but it was still too small for me.

A few weeks later, she had committed some offense or another, and while I had her handcuffed to the bed, I locked her up in her new chastity belt with a clit shield. I told her it would be a month, but I let her out after ten days. In the meantime, I didn't go without. When she misbehaved, she got the punishment--though not enough to send her into subbie bliss--and another woman got the fucking.

Over the weekend, I brought in Myra, one of the women who was there at the river, and who knew a little about our arrangement. I gave Anne to her as a slave, and Myra took to the role with a brutal exuberance. She slapped Anne's face, scratched her, bit her, and insulted her, from her hair style to the color of her toenail polish, using words no man who wanted to keep his balls would ever say.

Myra assured me she would pass the word that reports of my pussy-whipped, caged, cuckoldry were untrue, while omitting enough details to make the women wonder, and the men worry.

When I unlocked Anne's belt, she thanked me for her new toy and said "Next time you lock me up, I want Myra as my bitch mistress for the duration of my chastity sentence."

It was soon after that when the subject of babies started popping up more frequently. Then Glen got into her head, and everything changed.

* * *

While I put Rachel through her paces, Anne lit a fire under Brian. His confidence and attitude improved day by day. She told me he gave decent spankings and was awesome with the ropes--no surprise there--but would need to work on his aim and control with a riding crop. I expected better, considering his tennis experience. He and Anne were two rooms down the hall from Rachel and me, and we heard her horrible screams. She came out with raw, red lines all over her buns, her thighs, and her lower back. Those had to hurt.

Monday morning, I worked a few hours with him on a makeshift dummy subbie using a foam pillow. That's when I began to realize how big a mistake I'd made. Every stroke he took was full strength with the heaviest part of the whip. I imagined he was a power hitter on the tennis court, no finesse. Subtleties and self-control were the hallmarks of a good Dom. A quick, snappy hit from the end could bring out surface sting instead of the heavy toll on a subbie's muscles from constant thudding. I could keep a subbie going for over an hour and prevent overload by changing up the impact, laying four or five fluttery strokes in the same area to distract her, then one or two harder blows to nudge her deeper into her space.

The concept of subspace went right over Brian's head. He tried to equate it with some of the many drugs he'd used, and didn't grasp his role in modulating the pain to enhance the masochistic experience. His whole concept of "control" was "do what I say, or I'll hit you harder." He was too impatient, too focused on delivering agony without paying attention to his subbie's needs. When I advocated visiting a Domme acquaintance to help him understand the experience, he went defensive.

"I already know what it feels like to get beat up, and there's no way I'm gonna let a woman hit me."

That left me with a heavy guilt for ever proposing this stupid idea. I prayed no one ever put a cane in his hands.

Regardless of the injurious pain my ex endured, she was enjoying herself. my ex-wife was an ass-slut. I had decided to sacrifice my chance at Rachel's last virginity and leave it for Brian. Anne spent extra time making sure he knew what to do. Rachel had leaked the tidbit that his dick was fatter than mine, but he didn't have staying power. Anne told me that, while she experienced what Rachel called "his annoyingly tender China teacup treatment" when they fucked vaginally, he was ruthless in her rectum. He drove Anne into anal delirium once or twice every day.

I asked her to tell me what she thought of him.

"He's doing pretty good if you consider this is a lot to absorb in a short time. He won't ever be you. He doesn't like going down on me, even when I'm clean. Mostly, he can't lock onto the idea that he's not really the one in control. Everything's about him, and he's got this thing about ownership. He makes me tell him I'm his, and he owns me."

"Does he own you?"

"Of course not. I'm doing this only because you told me to. I am yours, now and always."

I thought of sharing with her what I'd learned about his activities on the night of the bachelorette party. Instead, I opted to let this circus run its course.

She knew me well enough to spot my skepticism, but she misinterpreted.

"You don't believe me. I get it. I was the Cupid Stunt. I didn't realize how devious my pussy could become when she started obsessing about a baby. When I backed away from you, she saw her chance and took control. That won't happen again. I know the signs, now. If I have any doubts whether I can deal with it, you'll be my first stop, not some horny creep."

The problem with her theory, as with most, was that we wouldn't know if it worked until it failed. Once that happened, the theory was the least important casualty.

* * *

On the afternoon of the fourth day, we were all in the foyer, hugging and kissing goodbye. Rachel was in my arms. She was weepy.

"Are we ever going to, you know... get together again?" she asked.

"You'll have to ask your new daddy."

"He's gonna be my husband, not my daddy. I've got only one Daddy. He's special. He makes me feel like a little girl."

"I won't come between you and your husband," I said. From what I'd learned, I didn't expect he would go for the sharing thing.

She called out sweetly to him. "Brian, honey?"

Rachel's fiancée was holding Anne, and they were whispering just down the hall. Despite what she said, they had grown close. I still wasn't convinced of my ex-wife's loyalties. Maybe this whole scheme was a mistake. Or, a short cut to the inevitable. I would keep one eye on her.

"Yeah?" he said.

Rachel said, "Would it be okay if I come spend some time with my Daddy once in a while?"

She and Anne had explained to Brian about the impact of their father's loss and how I became her surrogate Daddy.

He looked at me. I shrugged and told him, "She's yours. Whatever you decide is fine."

That wasn't the entire truth. I had thoroughly enjoyed my kinky once-and-future sister-in-law. In a poignant way, I was glad I didn't have to choose between them. Still, it hurt to let Rachel go.

Brian said to her, "I'll think about it. Maybe we'll talk after I get you pregnant."

That cheered Rachel up. "Okay!"

His plastic smile convinced me that no reunion would ever occur.

Despite his progress, Brian was the only child and first grandchild of an old-money Richmond family, an heir to all the arrogance that went with that condition. After decades of his family pampering his precious ego, he would have to work hard to rid himself of the conceit, and I didn't believe he had it in him. A resilient ego was one of the paradoxical requirements of a good Dom. I expected Brian wouldn't ever understand that we needed to act selfish and brutally over-confident, while recognizing that the submissive was truly in charge. They could get up and walk away at any time. Our real job was to meet their needs, whatever it took. Fortunately for us, when done right, the symbiotic relationship usually called for us to meet our own needs, as well. Yin and yang.

Anne said, "Maybe I can help out with Brian's manly urges when you get fat and dumpy with your baby."

She didn't notice my scowl, but Rachel jumped in.

"Well, maybe I'll have to take care of my Daddy when your cupid stunt hormones go crazy and he gets tired of your bitch face."

I pulled the plug. "What happens when both of you are pregnant at the same time?"

The two women looked back at each other.

Their worried brows suddenly popped into big grins. They both shouted at the same time.

"Mom!"

* * *

PART 4 - WATCHING AND WAITING

Everyone was distraught when they learned I never received the invitation mailed to me. They had assumed I didn't want to come, and nobody wanted to upset me further. Anne had planned to bring it up on Tuesday, when we were to meet again.

Rachel insisted that her Daddy should give her hand away instead of her mother's brother-in-law, who'd filled the role for Anne. I couldn't refuse. Walking her up the aisle was agonizing, with hope and angst for her uncertain future battling for my soul. At one point, I seriously thought of turning us both around and running out of the church together, certain she wouldn't fight me.

After I gave her to Brian, I turned to the family pews, where Anne and Katherine awaited, smiling up at me in tears. At the sight of them, a dark shell inside me fractured, and I felt light pouring through the cracks. Regardless of my feelings on the matter, Rachel had set her own course with her new husband. There was nothing I could do about that. Where was my future? It was right in front of me.

I sat between the two women, and each of them took one of my hands. I knew Anne loved me--that had never been a question--and I wanted to believe we could make this right together. We had both hurt each other in different ways, but we'd both learned from the experience. Still, there were obstacles ahead. The cozy flirting between Anne and her dashing new brother-in-law nipped at me. I had hoped she would've learned her lesson with that glib asshole Glen, but here she was again, making me sorry I'd ever come up with that cockamamie plan to give Brian a chance to fix things with Rachel.

Maybe I was worrying for nothing. Whatever the reason, the wounds of distrust would take time to heal, and without something to bind us together, a slip of the tongue could be enough to provoke the temptation to simply walk away. Before I would commit to Anne, I would need a sign, something tangible to convince me that her devotion was equal to mine. Then we could start the real mending process. In the meantime, I would hope for the best, while watching carefully and waiting to see how things rolled out.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Mostly... Brian's friends were young, wealthy braggarts. The best man showed up to the wedding ceremony with a black eye. He got a little too friendly with one of the bridesmaids after the rehearsal dinner, and her husband caught them. It was one more omen that didn't bode well for any of us if Brian remained close to those sorts of people.

Anne and Rachel's mother found me at the reception in the gold-leafed and crystal chandeliered Grand Ballroom of the iconic Jefferson Hotel. Graceful and classy, Katherine was an uncommonly attractive woman in both body and spirit. The red highlights in her dark hair against the dappled forest green shades of her calf-length wrap gave her an exotic aura, like a Celtic queen.

"Can I get a dance with the man who is making both my daughters smile?"

"He's over there with his bride," I said, nodding toward the far side of the ballroom.

A dark cloud passed over Katherine's face, then vanished.

She cocked her head. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

In her perennially calm manner, Katherine took my hand and led me to the parquet dance floor. Her soft, elegant body melded into my arms among the twenty or so couples swaying to the Cajun waltz from the deejay. I had danced with her a few times, notably at my wedding. She was a poised and attentive follow, with a natural weave in her graceful hips. In her youth, she had been a dance teacher.

"I understand my Anne has finally come to her senses," she said. "I can't express how thankful I am you're such a forgiving man."

I led her into an outside turn. She slipped smoothly back into the open embrace.

"I never stopped loving her," I said. "We have some bridges to rebuild."

"Children will help," she said. "Is it true I'm going to be the surrogate beneficiary of your equestrian skills?"

"Equestrian?" I knew next to nothing about horses, though many Doms highly recommended riding as a parallel to slave training.

"You know--climbing into my saddle and putting me through my paces? Tugging my reins and teaching me to respond to your commands?"

The swelling that began when she first approached me exploded into a full-on erection. I was speechless.

She said, "I'm partial to English style. I simply love the feel of a crop in the hands of a man who knows how to use it. I'm not opposed to Western, however. Roping events can be so much fun, don't you think? I can even handle a hard gallop with spurs biting my flanks, now and then."

Spurs?

Then she said, "I've always drawn the line at branding. I might make an exception for family, however."

Branding? Was she fucking serious? Why was my heart beating like mad and my cock squirming to get free?

"Jesse?" she said. "Breathe, dear." She was shaking, trying to hold back the laughter.

"I never knew you were such a cruel jokester," I said.

Katherine's face softened. "I would never be cruel to you. And I'm certainly not joking."

In my excitement, I drew my former mother-in-law into a rotating waltz, spinning around the floor and bringing a jubilant grin to her face.

When we returned to the normal flow, she said, "Both of my daughters tell me you are even better at horizontal dance than you are with vertical styles. I can hardly wait. When do you plan to give me the grandchildren I've been wanting for years?"

"As soon as Anne decides she's ready."

Katherine laughed, a full, hearty and pleasant sound.

"If you're waiting for her, you're running the wrong direction."

"Do you mean--"

"I mean you should talk with my eldest daughter. Immediately."

I sent her into another underarm turn. With only the slightest cue from my finger she made it a double turn then eased back into my arms, natural as you please.

"You'll have your grandchildren soon enough," I told her. "I expect your little one and her hubby are already working on it."

At the mention of Rachel's "hubby," Katherine's expression went briefly dark again.

I said, "You don't like Brian?"

She didn't say anything for a few steps.

"Over the years I've met a lot of silver-tongued devils," she said. "Too many of them are too proud to use it where it counts."

"Such as...?"

"A woman's cum-filled cunt and her asshole."

I burst into laughter. The sound of those words coming from Katherine's exceedingly proper, high-society mouth was too much.

"You think he doesn't..."

"I have it on good authority. A man who doesn't recognize and cater to a woman's needs doesn't respect her." Her face softened and she peered into my eyes. "If Anne hadn't shown up that morning, do you think things could have worked out with Rachel?"

We danced halfway around the floor before I could answer. "Maybe... Yeah, it's possible."

"That's what she said this morning. Since you've showed her the life she had only dreamed about, she is more in love with you than ever. She knew you were still in love with her big sister, though. She loves both of you too much to intrude on your future together."

"Shit."

"Yes, that's what I said." Katherine snickered. "We'll give her some time and see how things go with her pretty boy. Frankly, I'm not optimistic, but we'll see."

I felt like a turd. How different would it have been if I hadn't put her and Brian back together? Still, it was the right thing to do. I probably couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't give them a chance.

The song was winding down. I paused with a rock step, she responded, then I pivoted into a back-and-forth pattern similar to 'ochos' from tango.

That brought a pleased smile on Katherine's face.

"Do you tango?"

"So-so. I studied around eight years and spent some time in Buenos Aires, but tango is a lifetime journey, as I'm sure you know. I'm not great."

"I'll bet you're wrong. We'll have to get you back into it. I hope you like to tango naked."

I whisked her into a double underarm turn, then caught her and knelt on one leg, laying her back in a deep dip with her luscious buns perched on my horizontal thigh. Bending over her, inches from her face, I was sorely tempted to plant a kiss on those delectable lips. The lust in her eyes told me she would have welcomed it. Her elbow brushed against my rigid cock.

Yes, I was looking forward to Anne's pregnancy. I just hoped she didn't expect that to lasso me in.

The next dance was the Macarena. Katherine stayed on the floor, and Anne came up on the other side of me. I watched their luscious asses wiggle on each turn as we laughed our way through it.

Anne pulled me aside afterward.

"Are you and Mom...?"

"We're good."

"Does that mean you're ready for a baby?"

"Babies," I corrected her, and she grinned.

"I stopped my pills last week."

The hair on my neck bristled. I growled, "Did you fuck Brian without protection?"

"Absolutely not." She caressed my cheek. "Don't worry, Jesse. Even if we did, it's going to take a month or two before anything can happen."

"You're sure..."

"I talked to my gyno last week." She sounded cautious when she said, "Does that mean I can't work with Brian? I swear we'll be safe. It's only so he can be better for Rachel. I'll tell him she has to be there."

"He's a smooth talker, isn't he?"

Anne blushed and looked away. "He says the right things." Then she turned back to me. "I'm not going to get stupid. I've lived my time in hell. No way I'm going through that again."

I wasn't convinced. All I could do was to watch and wait.

"You like his dick?"

"If I told you 'no,' would you believe me?"

I studied her face. "Why don't you like it?"

"I won't lie. It's a beautiful thing, but he's either too nice or too rough. He sent me to subspace only once the whole week. That's one of the reasons I want to keep helping them, so I can show him how to give Rachel what she needs. He doesn't like it when I tell him what to do, but it would be worse if she tried to correct him. You know how some guys are about their egos."

I nodded, well aware of how men's egos worked. I had a good relationship with mine. He didn't complain about a spoonful of abuse, so long as he got to dish out a gallon of pain and domination later on.

Anne threw her arms over my shoulders and kissed me. "I love you so much, Jesse. You totally get it. Sex isn't an ego trip for you. It's all about the woman."

"I still have an ego."

"I know you do. It's my job to keep that ego in tip-top shape. Don't be afraid to tell me if I step over the line."

"Like stopping your pills without my permission?"

"Did I do a bad thing?" She gave me a mock pout, struggling to keep from grinning.

"I can't count the bad things you've done."

"You love me anyway, though. Right?" she said.

I hugged her waist and kissed her forehead. "More than you probably know."

"You love Rachel too, don't you?"

I hesitated only about a second. "She's pretty special."

Anne laughed. "It's okay. She told me she was trying to steal you. She could have done it, couldn't she?"

"I don't know," I waffled. "Maybe..."

"Are you lying?"

"I'm tiptoeing across a razor blade."

She came up and kissed me.

"I'm not upset. It was different when she was young. You want her, and I want you to get what you want. I'll give them a few months to settle in before I talk to Brian about it again," she said. "He has to understand. The deal's gotta be quid pro quo, or it's a no-go."

I wasn't yet convinced we would last "a few months." I was doing my best to rebuild my faith in my ex-wife, and she was acting like we could just slip back into our marriage as if her "sabbatical" had never happened.

Day by day, step-by-step, we would go slow. There would be no third chance.

* * *

It was the Tuesday after Rachel's wedding. The newlyweds were on their week-long honeymoon, and Anne and I were having a quiet dinner at home. An abnormally quiet dinner. Anne fidgeted in her chair. When we were done, she went to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a single, freshly caramelized almond crème brûlée with a fresh raspberry on top, a specialty of hers, and one of my favorite dishes.

"You aren't having any?"

She shook her head. Reaching down beside her chair, she came up with a manila envelope that she pushed across the table to me.

I looked at the package then back at her. What the hell was this all about?

Patiently, I enjoyed half my dessert watching her squirm. I knew she wanted me to open it, but I wasn't playing her game.

Popping the raspberry into my mouth, I chewed it slowly, letting the tart juiciness brighten my tongue before I picked up the envelope. Because of her behavior, my gut said this might be the end of us.

I couldn't have been more wrong. It was a two-page, signed and notarized pre-nuptial agreement. The wording was simple. If we divorced for any reason, even my abandonment of the marriage, she got nothing, not even the clothes on her back. I would be held blameless, regardless of any abuse or infidelities, real or imagined. There was even a paragraph that stated her preference that any children born to her during our marriage would come to me as primary caregiver.

When I laid it down, she quickly said, "The lawyer told me the courts would decide on the kids. Anything I said now would be irrelevant. I just want you to know I will reject any claim. I promise, Jesse."

"Did Glen write this?"

She laughed. "Glen's long gone. When I told Judy in HR about what happened between us, she said he'd pulled something similar with one of the clients. He's blackballed from most NGO's, and she's heard the police are investigating him."

I tapped my finger on the agreement. "Is this a ploy to get me to marry you?"

She looked down and nodded. Her cheeks were red. She looked up.

"I'll do anything," she said. "We all know I was a cupid stunt. I hurt the only man I ever truly loved. Rachel told me it was worse than I imagined. Please believe me. I won't do that to you again."

I stared at her and didn't say anything as I finished the brûlée. She was shaking. I waited until the last bite before using a fingertip to wipe up the pudding remaining in the corners of the ramekin. I extended my finger across the table, and Anne pushed her head forward to take it between her lips. She locked eyes with me as she sucked the whole finger into her mouth, moving back and forth and licking the underside as if she were fellating my dick.

She was still sucking on it when I said, "We should get the results for the blood tests we took last week by Thursday. If we take those straight over and get a license, we can go to the courthouse on Friday."

Her face brightened and her lips stretched wide around my finger.

I told her, "If you'd rather have a big wedding, we'll have to wait a few--"

"No!" She ran around the table to shove my chair screeching backward across the hardwood floor so she could straddle my lap, her arms hanging around my neck. "Friday's good. Friday is perfect!"

Rachel and Brian were still on their honeymoon so her mother and a close friend of hers named Becky stood in as our two witnesses. Afterward, I took everyone out for an expensive dinner. Anne and her mother both seemed to take delight in my discomfort when Becky--seated on my left in the semicircular booth--couldn't keep her hands off my crotch.

Finally, I leaned over and whispered to her, "If you will remove your hand, I promise to come to your house one night when you least expect it, tie you up, spank your beautiful bottom until it's bright red, and then I will force myself on you. If you insist on leaving it there, I will tell Katherine to invite six of your friends to watch us."

She jerked her head to the side, staring at me. Her gaze went unfocused as she worked through her desires. It must have taken half a minute before she gave my half-erection a squeeze and pulled her hand away. I decided that when the time came, I would deliver a fantasy she would always remember.

That evening, Anne and I flew to a clothing-optional, lifestyle-friendly resort on Curaçao for a week-long honeymoon of our own. The third night, we were sitting naked on the beach, watching the stars appear against an indigo eastern sky as the waves rolled onto the shore. A waiter brought a silver tray to us with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. Anne was perplexed--she hadn't seen me order anything. I poured the champagned, then took the two printed pages from the tray along with the lighter, and we toasted our future while watching the pre-nup burn in the sand.

No piece of paper was going to matter if we didn't have faith in each other.

Her period began two days before we left the resort. That had never stopped us, only tempered my treatment of her extra-tender breasts.

On the Tuesday after we returned, she came to me acting nervous again.

"Is it okay if I go over to Rachel's for a few hours?"

I kept my expression unemotional. "Is Rachel going to be there?"

"I... think so." She chewed on her lip. "I won't go if you tell me no."

We hadn't been married two weeks, and she was already giving my ego a one-two punch, letting some other man into her.

I had promised, however. Watch and wait...

She left with her backpack of favorite toys and necessities around eight and got home after eleven. I was in bed. She went straight to the shower and stayed there for a long, long time. When she came to bed, she curled herself against me.

"Hold me, Jesse. Okay?"

I wrapped her in my arms and stroked her hair and back. What had he done to her?

The next day, her backside was minced meat, but she was her usual vivacious self, maybe even more so. She was quite affectionate and eager to please me. For some reason, that worried me almost as much as her attitude about this whole deal.

I checked her backpack and found the soothing aloe-arnica cream she preferred, a narrow, leather-bound paddle like the one I used for low-impact pussy and breast torture, her favorite Japanese nipple clips, and a few lengths of rope. What I didn't find was condoms or their empty wrappers.

From our first meeting, she was conscientious about protection. I had to believe she would be honest with me if she wasn't careful.

A month later, two days after her next period ended, she was asking again. I gave her permission, but resolved to myself that next time it would be a hard 'no', regardless of when it came up, and would be followed immediately with an extended period of chastity. I hadn't seen Rachel at all since her wedding. We had planned a dinner out with them to celebrate our re-marriage, but something came up with Brian at the last minute, and it didn't happen. How did my sister-in-law feel about whatever Anne and Brian were doing?

I was surprised a little over an hour after Anne left when she burst through the door with her pack. I was reading in the den and got up to meet her. She was furious, red-faced and tears were running down her cheeks. She took one look at me then marched up the stairs. Returning a few seconds later, she handed me my thinnest, flexible rattan cane, the most painful in my collection.

Without a word she went straight to the den, stripping clothes off as she went. She leaned over the back of the leather sofa. Her backside was a wreck, with blood trickling from some wounds. It looked like someone--I had no doubt who--had whipped her back, her legs and her behind with a coat hanger.

Streams of semen were dripping down her thighs.

"Are you sure, Anne? I don't want to--"

"Do it, goddammit!"

"How many?"

She peered back over her shoulder. "Whatever feels good."

I was tempted to go easy, but she needed it bad, so I gave it to her bad. Five well-placed stripes on top of her brutalized buns, no mercy. Her feral screams were bloodcurdling. The sixth and seventh swings went across both thighs alongside three misplaced, angry welts.

My wife was dangling over the back of the sofa, nearly lifeless. Her body shook with sobs, and her voice was croaky.

"Help me to the shower? Please?"

I carried her up upstairs to the bathroom and cleaned her off, then I treated her wounds. She refused any sexual touching, and wouldn't talk about whatever happened, which didn't improve my confidence.

The next morning the shower was running again when I woke up. She was sitting in the corner of the cold tile floor, quietly crying. I started to get in, but she held up her hand to stop me. "I'm fine now. Really. Just let me spend some time alone."

"Do I need to talk to Frank?" Francesca was one of my wealth management clients who was "connected."

Anne laughed, a welcome sound. "I don't think we need a professional, yet. Please, trust me to handle this a while longer. I promise I'll tell you everything when it's time."

She took the day off. When I arrived home after my client meetings, she met me at the door with a paddle. She bent over and told me again, "Whatever feels good."

Her chastity belt was locked in place. Her backside still looked rough, so I set the paddle aside and took her over my knee for an old fashioned hand spanking, only enough to release her cathartic tears.

That evening, one of our long-time, dependable subbie friends showed up for dinner and stayed overnight. Anne watched while we played, pinching and scratching herself and tweaking her nipples.

The same happened the next night, with a paddling and a different friend. And the next with a crop. Myra spent the weekend with us. Eight nights in all, different punishments, six different women. No orgasms for Anne.

On Wednesday, the belt was gone. She handed me a doctor's certificate and took me down on the marble floor. I knew what she wanted, and didn't hold back. When I came inside her, she closed her eyes, turned her head up, and shuddered through a smiling climax, whispering, "Yes..."

Lying there on the hard floor next to each other, I said, "You want to talk about it?"

She hadn't yet addressed the remote possibility of Brian's baby growing in her belly.

"Not yet. Everything's under control. I won't be going back, but this isn't settled, yet. When the time is right, I'll tell you everything."

Weeks passed, and her period came. There was no more mention of visiting her sister or her brother-in-law. I hadn't seen Rachel since their wedding. When I danced with their mother back then, she'd told me Rachel loved both me and Anne too much to intrude on our future, so I didn't take it personally that she was giving us space. Now and then, I heard Anne talking quietly to her on the phone, but she didn't share any news other than they were getting to know everything about each other. I was curious, but not complaining. Watching and waiting...

* * *

On a night in mid-July where several lines of summer thunderstorms passed through central Virginia, cooling the air, Anne and I made love on a large, sheepskin rug in the small, screened summer house at the back of our yard, surrounded by her flowers and serenaded by frogs and crickets with a steady, soft patter of rain on the tin roof and thunder rumbling in the distance. Anne had been especially affectionate for days. Love flowed between us, through our eyes, our hands and mouths and our sex. The intensity of our passions made my heart feel like it wanted to burst. Orgasmic release was not the goal. Our sole aim was to share the beauty of the moment and to revel in our mutual admiration.

Afterward, we lay together, kissing and touching. Our sweat-covered skin grew chilled. Hand-in-hand, we toddled naked across the wet grass and went up the stairs to resume our cuddling in bed. Little-by-little, we drifted off.

A distant sound roused me from the edge of slumber. I raised my head and listened. There it was again, someone tapping at my front door. Adrenaline brought me fully awake. Who would be showing up at our house this late on a weeknight?

Sliding out of bed without disturbing Anne, I had to search for the Colt 1911 between the mattresses. I hadn't practiced with it in a while, but it wasn't exactly where I always kept it. I eased it out and looked through the front shades, but saw no unusual cars in front of the townhouse.

Rap-rap-rap. It sounded stronger now.

I slipped into a robe, then padded quietly down the stairs and peeked through a gap in the curtains. I recognized that shape immediately. I flung open the door.

"What are you doing here, Rachel?"

She was soaking wet. She had a rolling overnight case.

Shivering, she stammered. "It... it was a lie. Everything he told me. That special connection between us? It was all a lie, a big scam... He got other women... the same way. One of them is pregnant." Sobs broke out. She howled in rage, "He lied to me, Jesse. The sonofabitch lied!"

"C'mon, get inside," I said, drawing her in and taking her suitcase.

She looked up at me. "Jesse? Will you spank me and fuck me? Will you give me your baby? Please?"

"Of course he will." Anne's voice came from up the stairs behind me.

I twisted my head around. In the same moment I heard the squeak.

My wife said, "Here, let's get you out of these wet clothes."

She drew her sister's coat off her arms, helped to peel the drenched sweater over her head, and unzipped her skirt, leaving it in the marble foyer floor. I ran to the sofa and returned with the warm, cashmere knit blanket we kept there for snuggling. Anne wrapped it around a naked Rachel and told her to go up to our bed, and we'd be there in a minute.

As soon as she was out of sight, Anne came to me.

"I need to tell you two things. The last time I was with Brian? Rachel wasn't there. He tied me up and whipped me. He was totally out of control. I gave him the 'Rule of Three' over and over and begged him to stop. He fucked me brutally, without a condom. He lasted a couple of minutes, just long enough to get his jollies. As he was untying me, he told me his sperm was certifiably potent, and to let him know when I was fertile and he would do the job you couldn't seem to get done. Rachel hadn't mentioned anything, so I figured he must have gotten his certification from an outside source. I asked him if he thought that was fair to you. He said he was willing to let you supply the bed."

My fists clenched and a fury burned my face. Without a word I started toward the door, 1911 in my hand, my thoughts running through all the ways I would hurt that motherfucker.

Anne snagged my wrist and yanked me back with surprising strength.

"Calm down. I took care of it. When I got loose, I kneed him in the balls and swept his legs out from under him, and he went down hard. After the time before, where he ignored everything I said, I didn't trust him any further than I could kick him, so I took your sidearm with me that night." She glanced down at the pistol hanging by my side. "I shoved it into his crotch and told him if I ever saw him touch a woman other than Rachel, me included, I would shoot his nuts off."

It wasn't an idle threat. Their father's self-defense training included handguns. At seven yards, Anne could place all eight rounds center-of-mass while moving sideways.

She said, "He sneered and dared me, said I wouldn't shoot him. He had a framed picture sitting on the fireplace mantel of him holding up some trophy. I blew it to pieces, and he screamed like a girl. I shoved the barrel under his chin, got in his face, and said, 'How much are you willing to bet?' He didn't have anything else to say."

I wouldn't have bet against it, either. My pride in her left me with a lightness in my chest.

Still peering up into my eyes with a sweet smile, she found my empty hand, and I felt her push something into my palm. I looked at the two long, white plastic sticks. The blue plus signs.

She said, "I was planning a special dinner for tomorrow so we could talk. I figured you should know before you go upstairs."

I gazed at my expectant wife. She had never been more beautiful. I pulled her to me for a long, loving kiss.

"Go on, now," she said. "If I know my sister, she needs your baby juice tonight. I'll sleep in the guest room."

"Hell no, you won't," I told her. "You don't have to touch her, but you're part of this."

"You don't want her to leave, do you?"

"Would that be a problem? I'm not sending her back to that arrogant shit."

Anne didn't hesitate. "Not a problem for me. It'll make things a lot simpler for Mom."

I laughed and gave my wife another peck on the lips, then took her hand and headed toward the stairs.

"I'll start looking for a bigger house tomorrow," she said. "We're going to need more bedrooms. Any problem if Mom rents out her house and moves in with us?"

The pebble that became the avalanche was now a tectonic shift. My choice of three full-time sluts? That would call for tighter rules to keep them from wearing out my arm and my poor dick. I knew a Domme who could help me seriously upgrade my psychological game. She was another of Professor Pop's students.

I shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Anne threw her arm around my waist, and we climbed the stairs to breed her little sister.

: : :

Preview: EPILOG - WHEN THE DUST SETTLES

Walking around my desk, I aimed a hard gaze at Brian's mother and slapped my left palm with the ruler four times, once with each step. This particular ruler was a parting gift from Professor Pop, one inch wide, and a quarter-inch thick, maple, and inflexible. It made a delightfully crisp snap when it landed on skin.

She stared at the ruler in clear terror, and more than a hint of anticipation.

"Celine!"

She jerked her focus back up to me. We were so close, I could feel her accelerated breaths.

I said, "What three places are you allowed to look?"

Her face colored, and her eyes dropped. "The floor, your face, or your... cock, sir."

"You disobeyed. You looked at the ruler. That means we're at twenty-five. You want to try for forty?"

She gaped at me. I slapped the ruler on my palm again, and she jumped and glanced once more at the ruler, then immediately back at me. She gulped.

"No, sir."

But her brief hesitation left me to think she had considered the alternative...