The Theft of Our Lives 12
By Tug Coxwell
Disclaimer: This multi-chapter story is a fantasy. While not occurring in every chapter, the overall story contains various sex acts between adults including, but not limited to incest, cuckolding, interracial, anal, oral, pegging, humiliation, and non-consent in the form of blackmail and coercion. The story, all names, and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to entities or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years-old or older. All rights reserved.
NATE'S PROMISE KEPT
Nathan Wagnell was a man never failing to take advantage of an offer, especially one made reluctantly by a captured father increasingly willing to do or say anything to escape his wrath in his abdicated position as protector of his family.
"Ray, glad I caught you," the wealthy 60-something philanthropist called me at my office on a quiet Friday afternoon just after 1:00 p.m. "Take the afternoon off and go pick-up Kerri from campus."
"Um, Mr. Wagnell, I have work to do. I can't just pick-up and leave," I replied doubtfully, but with undo deference considering the man essentially claimed my beloved bride before my eyes not long ago, fucking Emma into submission and usurping my role as husband at the same time.
"No worries, I cleared it with Hank," Nate answered calmly, anticipating my hesitance with a prepared response I couldn't counter.
"But, Kerri's probably in class," I asserted as a last-ditch effort to avoid the new assault on my family's dignity I suspected was coming.
"Nonsense, Ray. You've been to college and so have I. No smart kid schedules classes for Friday afternoon, except the geeks, and Kerri certainly doesn't qualify as one of them," he scoffed at my feeble attempt.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," I conceded, noting an underlying excitement one might expect from a gray-haired man anticipating an afternoon of debauchery with an adorable, 19-year-old coed, and likely her mother too.
"You want Emma to have this key I'm holding, don't you? Time to make good on your offer," the distinguished charity director suggested with a level of glee I found off-putting, even for a jaded bastard such as himself.
'Zappp' the electrodes in my cage suddenly lit up as soon as the words left his mouth, still possessing access to the phone app controlling the devilish device and sending a certain reminder of that fact.
"Awwucchhh," I groaned under my breath at the pain, although it was a thankfully mild and brief shock to my gonads.
I did what I could to stifle my response despite only a few other workers in the office, but even then, I nearly wet my pants and was immediately observant of his request.
"Yes, um, Mr. Wagnell, I'll go get her," I stammered while gritting my teeth as I recovered, unhappy remaining locked up in my cage without recourse and thinking I'd be much better off if my wife held the key to my occasional freedom.
I hated the idea of surrendering our vibrant, long-limbed, and well-built daughter into the clutches of such a degenerate old man, despite the inappropriate arousal rising within me considering the deleterious act.
Younger and more vulnerable than her more experienced mother but every bit as desirable, I feared Nate bending our precious teen and then breaking her to his dominating cock much as he had Emma that night in our marital bed when I regretfully offered up Kerri after the torturous treatment of my tender balls.
"Good boy. Nice to know you stick to a deal, Ray, and be certain Emma is present. I wouldn't want either of you to miss the fun," he advised ominously, confirming my fear that her mother was to be an active participant herself.
"Um, Emma mentioned something about shopping and coffee with a few of her girlfriends this afternoon. She's been rather occupied lately and hasn't seen them for a while," I informed contritely, uncertain of his reaction if he expected her participation in his sordid plans.
"Hmm, well okay, it is spur of the moment. We can start without her, and it'll be a long night so I'm sure she'll show up before we're done," the depraved aristocrat allowed, giving his final instruction. "Meet me at your house by 2:00 p.m."
"Uh, Mr. Wagnell, what about Kellen?" I asked before he hung up, afraid of the answer but understanding our 18-year-old son was now part of the arrangement and trying to preempt the question of his attendance at his sister's defilement.
"Well, I'm sure as hell not interested in him, so he doesn't need to be there. At least, not this time," Nate said with a chuckle, but I could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head with his deflection to another day.
"O-kay, that's good. The baseball team's got a road game today, so I don't expect him home until late. He'll probably go out with teammates anyway," I deferred, happy for the reprieve, even if I didn't believe it was a permanent situation.
I felt certain at some point he'd want to watch a little brother bang his big sister, if only for the deviancy of the act.
'Click' the phone rang-off.
I sat pondering the command and how to tell Kerri, foolishly expecting her to be confused and unhappy when in reality I knew she'd be subservient and accommodating, just as the submissive sex servant Hank was training her to be.
*****************
My late-model sedan pulled up to the college gymnasium just after 1:30 p.m. as the ladies volleyball team exited practice, showering and dressing before going their separate ways. I was grateful the session was short, expecting Kerri likely needed as much energy as possible knowing what Nate had in store for our athletic coed.
Usually, Kerri rode with her friend and teammate Gretchen Ragsdale, who had her own car and lived close enough to our house that it wasn't an imposition. Often, they'd go out with a group or have dinner with friends in a typical evening for active college girls, perhaps looking for guys or even going on a double-date if it worked out that way.
"Dad's my ride today," Kerri explained when Gretch headed in the direction of her car without our daughter joining her as always.
"What? Look at you, girlfriend, your own personal chauffeur," her pretty friend inquired, perhaps a little jealous by the denial of Kerri's company.
"Little daddy's girl, Ker?" Tera Withrow teased a mocking inquisition.
"Too good for us mere peons, huh, Kerri?" Callie Simpson opined, joining the other's in playfully taunting our contrite young lady.
"Cut it out. Dad texted me and said I was needed at home," Kerri feigned dismissal of the jabs, smart enough after recent events to guess it was for something objectionable, but unsure exactly what was in store.
All our curious daughter knew for sure was that whenever she was called home abruptly of late, it was for a sexual performance so perverted she didn't dare tell anyone, even her best friends or teammates.
Dressed in a modest ruffled gauzy chartreuse skirt and complementary yellow button-down blouse, Kerri took her place on the passenger side, looking very much the typical college coed with her lithe legs uncovered halfway down her muscular thighs and her feet clad only in laced sneakers.
Unadorned by make-up, the healthy glow from her exercise flushed our daughter's freckled face, surrounded by short auburn hair bound in twin braids affixed to her scalp by a green headband in a style worn frequently during matches, keeping her straight locks back with her cute bangs clipped above her forehead, topping her bewitching emerald eyes.
"What's up, dad?" she asked forthrightly, stretching in the spacious interior easily accommodating her 5'10 frame and relaxing her tired body on the fine leather cushion as we sped off for the fifteen-minute drive home.
"Hi Kerri, I'll just be upfront about it. Nathan Wagnell called me. You remember him from the poker party?" I asked benignly about the debauched evening at Hank Allenby's when our unsophisticated youngster was exposed to so much depravity in a single night.
"Yeah, I remember him. He runs the charity where mom volunteers," she replied in a remarkably understated manner.
"Runs the whole damn organization actually," I elaborated, emphasizing what she already knew. "He's a powerful man and a good friend of Mr. Allenby."
"Yeah, I know," Kerri acknowledged, remembering with daunting appreciation the substantial size of the older philanthropist's cock and the way he commandeered her susceptible mother as an enamored fuck doll at the poker party.
Gradually immersed in a culture of submissiveness since her introduction to the despicable arrangement keeping our family together, Kerri astutely assumed Mr. Wagnell's interest in meeting her at the house and that she was in for a raucous afternoon of demanding sex, and probably night too.
"Is mom there?" she asked apprehensively, no doubt wondering if she was performing alone, or if Emma might share the burden, although that likely included some perverted lezzie play between mother and daughter.
"Not right away. She's out with a few of her friends, but I'm sure she'll be along shortly," I answered as truthfully as possible, glad for Kerri's nod of acceptance after pondering her duty to entertain the old man until help arrived.
Pulling into our driveway, we had 10 minutes until Nate arrived, giving me a brief opportunity to confirm her assumption that sex was on the menu, and she'd be expected to surrender her body to the man, praying she understood.
"I've been down this road, dad. I get it. Should I change into something 'more comfortable,' I think they say in the movies?" she said with surprising maturity, adding the lighthearted quip with a roll of her playful green eyes, removing some of the tension of my guilt for her situation.
