Bdsm Sex Stories

by Olga Menson

  He locked eyes with me for just a moment, and then nodded and walked swiftly out of the room and then the front door of the Brigantine. I wondered what his childhood must have been like. He had abhorrent ideas about what constituted love and more than likely had many victims, but he didn't originate in a vacuum. Like me, he probably had someone before him setting an example. Unlike me, he never diverged from his expected role.

  As I watched his helicopter depart, I vowed yet to never allow myself to fall to the depravities of my father. I would be the protector that he never was. And I'd rely on Isa to help keep me on the right path.

  We were De Heers, after all, and strong.

  * *

  In the end, Vincent made the correct choice. He killed himself. He used poison. Maybe he thought it would be painless, but it wasn't. I am given to understand that he didn't leave much of a mess, however. I insisted on viewing the body and the DNA results personally. One can never be too sure.

  I saw his wife at the funeral. I recognized her as the beauty in the green gown from the Brigantine, the first night that I had met Vincent. She nodded to me in recognition as I shook her hand and expressed my condolences. Does that seem inappropriate to you, to show up at the burial of the man who you wanted dead? Maybe it was, but I could see something like relief in his widow's eyes as she thanked me for attending. Perhaps she did know of his proclivities after all. In any case, all hostilities ceased between us. We still kept a watch on the entire Trevante Syndicate, of course, and we would for years to come, but for now, all was as it should be.

  It was over.

  * * *

  Legacy

  * * *

  CelebRumors.corp, September 2nd, 20xx

  by Victoria Evans

  De Heer Family Revealed as Owners of Private Island

  Long rumored to be in her possession, Isa De Heer confirmed in a brief press conference today that the island of Carradas was under her exclusive ownership. While some questions remain about the nature of the resort on the other half of the island, an individual close to the family has stated that it is used for "special guests" of both the family and occasionally hosts corporate events for their various subsidiaries. For the moment, rumors of illicit and taboo activities taking place there seem to be just that, rumors. Nonetheless, our intrepid bloggers, including yours truly, continue to angle for an invitation to the exclusive getaway.

  In happier and less controversial news, Isa also confirmed that last month she gave birth to healthy twins, who she intends to raise with her partner, Sarah Huriens. While no father is publicly listed, it is assumed that she underwent an In Vitro fertilization at a private clinic. Savvy readers will recall that a little over nine months ago, her partner narrowly escaped a bold attack by radical terrorists on the streets of New York. Isa once again thanked the quick action of De Heer security and the responsiveness of the NYPD in keeping Sarah safe. She also credited her brother Reuben's return to assist in daily operations of the De Heer financial empire with allowing her time to properly rest and deliver the babies safely.

  As always, when we dig up more dirt, you'll be the first to see it!

  5 Years Later:

  The beach was pleasant this time of year. It was warm, but the breeze was high, and there was little humidity. Isa and I stood in the shade of a well-manicured grove of trees, the sand cool beneath our bare feet. My sister wore a simple white sundress, with a hat and a shawl to keep the sun off. She was worried about losing the extra weight that motherhood had endowed her with, but I found her even more beautiful.

  "Stop looking at me like that," she eventually protested, before giggling.

  "Nonsense. I can look at you however I want. We're safe here."

  I held and then kissed her hand to further make the point. She looked at me and sighed. Rather than exasperation, her eyes showed sincere gratitude. I felt the same way. We were alive and well. Our children were safe, happy, and healthy, as were the other members of our unusual little family: Sarah and Rachel.

  Currently, both of them were entertaining the twins down near the water. Security kept a watchful eye on them from a respectful distance, as they always did. Sarah splashed water on Zoe, and our daughter returned fire. Then Stephen ran over to his Aunt Rachel, who obliged him by picking him up and gently plunging him into the water, careful not to get water in his mouth or nose. I must have been showing my exasperation with Rachel's refusal to slow down, given her state.

  "Relax, Reuben," Isa said as she rubbed my back, "Rachel can take care of herself. She's early in her pregnancy, and neither of our children weighs much at all. Remember that she's in better shape than either of us."

  It was true. Rachel had just started to show recently, and in her simple black one-piece suit, it somehow made her even sexier. Her thighs and arms had a healthy tan, and she still had her excellent muscle tone. She'd let her hair grow out a little bit, but only to the point where she could have a short ponytail. I loved her more than ever.

  "Besides," Isa added mischievously, "you're the one who needs to slow down a little. After all, you're going to have at least three children to raise soon. And that's assuming that Rachel doesn't have twins."

  God help me, I thought, watching our children play. At least I had a lot of people to help me. I'd never thought of myself as polyamorous, and neither had Isa. Still, we accepted certain things with a minimum of fuss or jealousy.

  Neither my sister nor I felt jealous of when we were with Sarah individually. For her part, Sarah never felt insecure about either of us being with anyone else. She said that we made up for any absence when we played with her together. When Isa and I spent the night with Sarah, we generally were quite dominant with her, leaving her a well-fucked little puddle that had to sleep in the next day.

  Rachel insisted on only being mine. She wanted no part of any other men or women. She never complained about any time I spent with either Isa or Sarah. In fact, I had to be very attentive to her moods, as she was reticent to make any sort of demands on my time. I made sure she knew that I loved her and made love to her often, doing my best to please her, but had I simply used her for my own pleasure, she would have been satisfied to a degree. She never quite got past the programing of her upbringing, so the best I could do was ensure that I was a good man to her, and be mindful of her emotions.

  We all raised the children together. Zoe and Stephen knew that Isa had carried them, and they called her "mother" or more often "mama." They referred to Sarah as "mommy" or "mom." Me, they often called "papa" and Rachel "auntie." We ensured that everyone "knew" that Isa and Sarah were a couple, and that Rachel and I were one as well. This was the cover that kept our unusual lifestyle from causing problems.

  As for the money and property, it stayed together, as one fund, but Isa, Rachel and I shared ownership over everything. We had our individual areas of expertise, but we rarely argued. We worked well together, but we also had systems in place for inheritance, and for ensuring that things didn't become something for future generations to squabble over. At worst, anyone of us (and any future owners, such as our children) could simply take a significant liquid sum and remove ourselves from the business, no questions asked, and the amount was never going to be enough to bankrupt the family as a whole. Frankly, I was with my family and didn't have to worry about paying the rent anymore. I was happy.

  I felt Isa's hand squeezing mine. I had been lost in thought.

  "Something is bothering you," my sister said. It wasn't a question.

  "Yes," I said, releasing her hand long enough to walk over to the picnic table that currently held our laptops and a few small folders of work-related items. We could never completely unplug, but that was all right. We had much more leisure time than many, and we were grateful for our wealth.

  I took a small envelope from a folder and handed it to Isa.

  "It's not a gift," I said, suddenly realizing how this might look. Isa raised an eyebrow, then took out the small papers inside. They were facsimiles o
f legal documents that I had signed a few days ago and placed in a secure location. As she read them, her eyes grew larger. When she was finished, she was frowning.

  "Reuben," she said, slowly, "I'm not sure that I'm comfortable with this. I don't think I could do what you're asking..."

  "It's a precaution," I said, "and while it may seem a bit extreme, I want it in place. Father was always cruel, but everyone around him, even those who loved him, said that he became something different towards the end. Something monstrous. I did some reading, and grandfather and great-grandfather may have both undergone similar changes. By giving you the authority to commit me in advance, I feel like you would be able to act swiftly to prevent me from hurting those I love. Who knows, maybe you could even get me help in time. As far as I know, there was no attempt to treat any of our male ancestors with psychiatric drugs or other treatments. I don't think any of them were officially diagnosed with anything beyond psychosis or dementia."

  Isa shook her head.

  "What if it happens to me, instead, Reuben? I mean, I always assumed that Father's final...changes...were due to some kind of unreconciled abuse in his childhood. He certainly abused both of us."

  "There's no record of any women in our heritage doing things like this, and our ancestors kept very specific, if concealed, records. No, if there is any danger in our line, it is present in me. And Stephen."

  "Don't say that!"

  Isa stopped, realizing that she had shouted. The others down the beach looked at us, and we waved back at them, smiling if a bit stiffly.

  "Don't say that," Isa continued, "You would never hurt our son the way Father hurt you. I know that. And, no matter our genetics, I know that choice and upbringing had something to do with this. I...I've always hoped that by being there for you, even just a little, I made things better."

  "You did," I reassured Isa, "but I still have nightmares about hurting you, or Zoe or...god, even just people working around our grounds. This document gives me peace of mind. It gives you a way to stop me without having to make the same decision that our mother did."

  I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned in and kissed her. A breeze picked up, pulling her hat away, but she ignored it, responding more deeply.

  "Eww!"

  Zoe had been the one expressing her disgust with this display of affection. She was outspoken, perceptive, and intelligent. Stephen was too busy running down the escaped hat and bringing it back to his mother. He was already courageous, gallant, and kind.

  To the world, Isa ran the empire. To those in the know, I ran the darker side of things. Together, we were both feared and respected and even loved by some.

  We were the latest, but not the last, generation of the De Heer family, and we were strong.

  THE END

  * * *

  Athena's Dance

  * * *

  * * *

  Mortal Lives

  * * *

  Our parents were weird. Not bad weird, just weird. Dad was a professor of mythology and comparative religions. He spoke in terms of metaphor and mysticism. Mom was a biochemist, a hardcore scientist. She used logic like a duelist used a rapier. For whatever reason, they clicked, a perfect matching of opposites. According to Mom, it was "primal attraction that deepened quickly into pair bonding." I try not to think of what she means by "primal," but I guess it makes sense. They only dated a few months before Mom got pregnant with me, and they decided to get married almost as an afterthought, which probably drove my grandparents insane. But I'm getting off on a tangent. They got married, had me, then four years later, my sister. Things didn't go so well with her birth, so Mom couldn't get pregnant again after that. I think that's why we all dote on Ath so much.

  Oh, yeah, so Dad loves mythology, and Mom's just a huge nerd. Apparently, I came out generally unhappy with the world, and there was something wrong with my right eye, which kept me from opening it for a few days. The doctors even worried at first that I had Anophthalmia, which means that I would have only had one functioning eye. But after a short time, I disproved that theory by opening both. Naturally, my father insisted on naming me Odin. Yes, Odin. I know. It's ridiculous, but here we are. At least they gave me the middle name of James, so I often go by that with friends and acquaintances. My family will never use anything but my first name, much to my chagrin. My little sister calls me Od, as in "odd." I call her Ath.

  Athena's birth was quite different from mine. There were so many complications. I was too young to really understand, but I remember being really worried about Mom while she was pregnant. She more or less had to remain in bed for the last three months, and very close to her due date, she had a series of migraines. The birth process was long and arduous, with labor going for more than twenty hours. When she finally gave birth, there was quite a bit of bleeding, and as soon as that was over, something else happened. Mom doesn't really remember, but when Dad talks about it, he grows quiet and solemn.

  Mom passed out briefly, and when she came to, she didn't know where she was, and she complained of extreme dizziness and head pain. She was terrified and didn't remember that she had been pregnant, much last just given birth. The strain of the ordeal had given her a mini-stroke. We were all lucky, however, as she regained her memory after less than a day and some sleep.

  The doctors were quite clear, however. More children would pose a lethal risk to my mother's health. My Mom, knowing her mythology almost as well as Dad, decided that her name should be Athena, after what a "big headache she was."

  It's funny if you're a huge fucking nerd, I guess. Which I am. I think Athena is too, in her way. The point is, we have weird names, an odd family, and we all love each other. Ironically Athena didn't inherit our mother's condition, whereas I did.

  We have problems like any family does, however. When Mom got an opportunity to do cutting edge research at a world-class university with an associated hospital, we moved across the country. Dad worked his job, fed us, got us to school, and basically was a one-man army for the first year or two. Mom got home at 8 on average, but at times even slept overnight on a cot in her office.

  I can only ever remember being protective of Athena, which I guess is natural. With Mom being gone often and Dad being busy taking care of us and his own work, I stepped up. That sounds like bragging, but it isn't. It was more like I saw that Ath was lonely, and I decided to spend more time with her. I played with her. I hung out less with my own friends, and instead, we stayed together and invented new games. And of course, she danced.

  Athena was already taking dance by that time, and it was pretty much basic instruction for small children, which is to say that they told her what to do and how to do it, but no one freaked out if things didn't go so well on stage. Ath really tried, though. She was maybe a little more coordinated than her peers, but you could see the focus and determination with each step she took, each little spin and turn and bend. I wouldn't say that she was a prodigy, but it was clear how important to her this was, even then.

  When Mom decided to take on a second project that interested her, Dad put his foot down. It would require that she work even more hours and most of the weekend. They fought over it and looking back, I think Dad worried that she was having an affair. This last part turned out to be way off, but he was right in that it meant that she would basically never see her family.

  Mom called his bluff and took on the second project. It turned out that Dad wasn't bluffing. They had one final big fight, and Mom moved out and got an apartment. She had agreed to weekend visits "when she could," but we didn't see her at all for the first month. Dad was sad, but he kept up the house. I started doing more chores, thinking that maybe if I was a better child, Mom would come home.

  It was all scary to me as an eight-year-old, but for Athena, it was like her world was ending. She stuck to me like glue, and I didn't dissuade her. When she was with me, she was less fragile and at least a little distracted. I helped her with what homework she had and listened to her explain the new da
nces that she'd 'korygrafed' on sheets of construction paper in bold crayon. I didn't ever want her to think that she'd be alone, or that Mom and Dad didn't love her. That was when it really clicked between us, I think, and I don't mean anything weird by that. Just that we became very in tune with each other's emotions and thoughts. In the future, we'd spend time apart, but the idea of not being in each other's lives was unthinkable.

  Looking back, we've really been best friends since then.

  Fortunately for everyone, the separation didn't last all that long. Finally, Mom picked us up on a Friday night to spend the weekend with us. She and Dad were polite to each other. Affectionate even. Mom was tired, but she spent all of her time with us, and for the first time in my memory, I didn't see her get out her laptop or "make a quick stop at work." When we came back to our house on Sunday, they talked for a long time, out on the porch swing.

  It was a cold fall night and trying to be the peacemaker, I made them cocoa (instant of course), and Athena and I brought it out to them. We caught them making out like teenagers, and while it grossed me out a little, it also made me very happy. Mom moved in again within the month, and she dropped the second project and reprioritized her life, becoming a partner again to Dad and a parent to us, much more available at night and on the weekends. For his part, Dad accepted that some extra hours would always be a part of Mom's job, and sometimes we'd all drive up to her office and have dinner there together before we left her there to finish her day.