Chapter 60

Simone came back to Sally’s laden with packages from stores I had never
heard of, but which I was sure, given the quality of the tiny bags, were
expensive.  Small boutiques with names like ‘le Petit Waif’ and such.  Given
the quantity, I was sure she had put a serious dent in her Mom’s credit
cards.  Nicole didn’t seem to mind, and surveyed the mound of merchandise
with a matter of fact calm, as if this type of extravagant spree were a
common occurrence.  Like, right.  I should talk about extravagant.  Maybe I
was just piqued that nothing she bought would fit me.  Or maybe I was simply
astounded that she and Gertie had actually managed to go shopping.

Simone distributed a couple of her purchases to Janey, Nicole and Sally,
gifts for them she had picked out for them.  I watched for a while, but when
the lacy teddies came out and other frilly things she had purchased for
herself, I felt uncomfortable, like I was intruding.  I went to my office to
catch up on some more work and pack a few more boxes for the move.

Simone’s first indication that things were different came at dinner.  She
came flouncing into the dining room in a filmy negligee, more appropriate
for a seduction scene in an XXX-rated video than the dinner table, although,
in her defense, she was actually over dressed for what had been considered
acceptable prior to this.

She got a funny look on her face when she saw the change in the seating
arrangements and Janey’s jeans and heavy T-shirt.  And bra.  Nicole and
Sally were, as usual, completely naked but for their collars and nipple
rings, so I would grant you, it would be confusing.

Sally and Nicole simply folded their hands and put them in their laps.
Janey saw them and followed suit.  My hands were already below the table,
but not in my lap.  Simone slipped into her chair, the only one empty.  No
one spoke for several minutes.

“That is a very pretty nightgown, Simone,”

“It would be a shame to soil it at the table.”

“It might be better if you changed,”

“Into something like your sister is wearing.”

“But you do look lovely.”

It was almost funny to watch Simone’s reaction to the ping-pong style of
speaking that Sally and Nicole had developed.  It took her a while, but she
finally realized that they had asked her to change clothes, and even then,
it took Janey to take her by the hand and lead her into their room.  The two
returned dressed in jeans and shirts.  By the adjusting hitch Simone had
made walking in, I guessed that not only bras were being worn, but panties
as well.

Sally and Nicole bestowed brilliant smiles on their decently clad daughters
and dinner continued as if nothing unusual had happened.  I continued to be
fed and fondled and to fondle the two women as we had when we were alone.
Janey and Simone tried to ignore our strange behavior, and for the most
part, did a pretty good job.  It was only after a particularly malicious
fingering or nipple-tweak that I could get either mother to lose her train
of conversation or elicit a giggle.  Neither mother minded my attentions,
either of themselves or the other, and often rewarded my efforts with
seductive winks, a squeeze of my prick or a tongue dualing kiss.  The teens
eventually stopped staring when these things would occur.

The biggest change in the routine was the assignment of cleanup duty.  It
was now the teens’ responsibility to do the dishes, clean the kitchen and
then to ‘disappear’ for a while following dinner, as well as all other
meals.  It almost raised an objection, but faced with the unified front of
all three of adults, they wisely kept their own counsel.

That night, preparing my wives for bed, I sensed that there was something
disturbing them.  “Hands,” I commanded and two pairs of wrists were
produced.  Still, something was wrong.  I waited, not tying them.

“Master?  We would like to request something.”

“Not to complain.  Please do not misunderstand”

“We are exceedingly happy with all that you do.”

“You know that something occurred between Sally and I.”

“We, well, we find we need to touch.”

“It is not necessary, and if it pleases you”

“To arrange us at night to prevent us touching”

“Then we will be pleased to please you.”

“But, Master, it is better for us if we can touch.”

“If it pleases you.”

They stopped, and waited, their palms still together, waiting for me.  I
knelt down in front of them, and lifted each lowered head to look at me.
There was no fear or defiance in them.  It was simply a request, but only if
I pleased.

As enjoyable as having them bound as they were last night was, there were a
hundred other possibilities.  I decided to go with one.

“I do not want this to be a punishment for you, but I want you bound at
night, as befits your status as my slaves.  I think, however, we can make a
few modifications.”

I had them kneel on the bed facing each other.  Then, with the soft cords I
had used the night before I tied their wrists together, right to left, left
to right.  They were squealing in delight when they realized what I was
doing.  I wasn’t done yet.

I lay them down with their lower arms extended over their heads.  That pair
of wrists I fastened to the headboard.  Then I bound their ankles together
similar to the way their wrists were, right to left, left to right.

It wasn’t until I was finished that the two sobered.

“But Master?” began Nicole in a forlorn voice.

“Where will you sleep?”

Grinning, I stepped between them and had them move as far apart as possible.
  They lifted their top set of arms automatically and I settled down gently
between them, fitting my legs between the upper and lower sets of theirs.
It was tight and it was a bit uncomfortable until we all learned to move the
same way, but it was glorious.  I made sweet love to both of them that
night, the other wife an active participant riding my back, loving and
encouraging the greatest enjoyment from the mating couple.  It became our
preferred sleeping arrangement.

When I woke up, Sally and Nicole were in blissful slumber.  I untied their
arms that were holding me in and carefully extricated myself.  I hoped they
would take that partial release as a sign they could finish untying
themselves when they awoke.

I had been in my office about half an hour when Simone appeared at my side.
I had never seen her wear such a thick or covering nightdress, and she wore
a robe over that.  Still, she was a lovely sight to see, except for the look
of concern on her face.

“Papa?” she asked hesitantly, “May I sit on your lap?”

“Of course, Simone.”  I pushed my chair back for her and she climbed on.
She seemed uncomfortable, as she was sitting way down my thighs.  I hauled
her slight frame up against me and her head finally nestled against my
chest.

“This is OK?  Being this close?”

“Sure.  Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I thought maybe it was something I had done, that you
didn’t want to see me anymore, but Janey said it was her, too.  Is it what
Gertie said?  She was just teasing you, you know.”

I held the little girl tightly to me, resting my chin lightly on the top of
her head.  She was so tender, so sensitive.  Hell, they all were.  As the
tears fell from my eyes, I sent her the same messages I had sent to Janey;
that I loved her so very much, like a Papa, that I was proud of her, that I
would always support her in whatever way I could, that I only wanted what
was best for her.  That things had changed, though, and that this was now
for the best.  We had to move on, to grow.  She had to take what she had
learned here and start to face the world, to build her own life.

I don’t know how long we sat there, father and daughter, but it was a long
time.  She understood what I had been trying to tell her, then began to
convey to me all the things that Gertie had told her and what she had
guessed and pieced together beyond that.  I always knew she was a smart
girl, but this went way past 2 + 2 = 4.  And she was frightened, not for
herself, but for me.  She didn’t know what or why, but she guessed a lot of
my life story, what I had done.

She took me back to the beach we had gone to that first time so long ago.
Our separate sandcastles had all been moved together, one bulwark made up of
all of our individual sands, standing together, united against the tides.
She looked at the mounded sands that represented our family with a sense of
pride, of belonging.

Taking my hand we wandered through the castle, suddenly in the dream very
small in relation to it, like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit
hole.  As we passed by the multi-hued grains, the faces of our history, she
would stop and point to one or another of them, asking me for that
particular story, how this one had died, why had I killed that one.

She seemed to know who those were, the various enemies I had brought down.
I realized then that I had been telling her, all along, which ones they were
by my own fears that colored the grains.

We wept for the dead, Simone and I, friend and foe alike, our tears mingling
together with the waves, washing and cleansing.  The fear was still there,
but Simone had a way of healing, drawing out the pain.  It was her gift, her
talent, and she was learning to use it well.

Sally and Nicole found us asleep in my chair when they came to get me for
breakfast, Simone’s head lying comfortably on my chest with her hand holding
mine, my chin resting easily on her head.  Nicole broke down and cried and
it wasn’t until she haltingly explained that that was the exact way she
remembered her own Papa that we knew she was happy for Simone, that she was
finally healed from her ordeal.

Moving day was an anticlimax.  We got dressed, all of us today, the movers
came, the movers left.  We got in the cars and followed.  We were home.

Sally and Nicole had been busy at the house a lot, but they weren’t they
only ones who had done a little work and preparation.  This was an old house
and had originally had a stable attached, which my father had converted into
a huge garage.  I had several cars stored there that I had collected over
the years, not necessarily vintage collector cars, but ones I liked.

Leading the small caravan of cars around to the parking area, I parked my
BMW in front of a door marked with an “L.”  There were other garage bays
with letters on them as well.  An “M” for Marion, an “N” for Nicole, a “J”
for Janey and not one but two “S”s.

Going first to Sally, I handed her a garage door opener and a car key.  Her
eyes glittering, she eagerly pushed the button.  The door smoothly slid open
to reveal a gleaming new Mercedes convertible coupe.  Sally was speechless.
She had dreamed of this car for her whole life, but had only made one
reference to it early on in our relationship.  Before all of this mess with
Janey had started.  But I had remembered and she knew I had when she saw the
car.

She turned, and the look she gave me told me I was going to get lucky
tonight and for a long time, not that I wasn’t already the luckiest man
alive.

I handed Nicole the same things, an opener and a key.  This time the door
opened to reveal the Buggatti.  She screamed, ran towards the car, then back
towards me, then back to the car.  Finally she just stopped and jumped up
and down.  Too bad she was wearing a shirt, but still, the excitement in her
eyes was worth the gift.

“You’ll have to do the maintenance yourself, Nicole.  My mechanics told me
you do better work than they do.”  Her eyes got wide with fear that I had
found out that she had been tinkering with my car when she and Sally had
come to ostensibly work on the house.  Tinkering, hell.  She was a damn good
mechanic, at least with the Buggatti.  It was about as finicky an engine as
had ever been designed, fantastic when running right, but easily bungled.  I
had taken it out for a test drive and the power had scared the living shit
out of me.  It had never been running better.

“It’s all yours,” I said, smiling at her.  “Besides, you’ll need a car to
get to work.”

Nicole looked devastated.  I was sending her out to look for a job.  “Yes,
Master.”  Her voice was quivering.

“Nicole, Helga Rosen asked me if you might consider helping them with some
of their research.  They are having some particularly tough problems… well,
why don’t you go talk to her?  It is up to you, though, if you accept.  I
just thought you might like to get back in the lab…”

At the mention of Helga Rosen, Nicole’s feelings flipped 180 degrees.  I
don’t think she had even thought about working with them, but it was a good
fit, and she knew it.  “Oh, yes!  Thank you, Master!”

I don’t know if she was more excited about the Buggatti or the Rosens.  I
guess it didn’t make a difference.  I was getting luckier and luckier.

Janey jumped up and down even before I tossed her the opener and keys.  She
had been wanting a car for so long, dreaming of a ‘Beamer’ or Jag or some
such outrageous expensive toy.  Her door slid open to expose…

“Daaaddy!  That Mom’s old car.”  You could hear the disappointment in her
voice.  I mean, after a Mercedes and a Buggatti, Hell, I’d expect something
more, too.

I didn’t say anything, just tossed the last package to Simone, who wasn’t
even old enough to drive.  She wasn’t expecting it and my missiles hit her
stomach and bounced to the ground.  The jar of the impact activated the
opener, and her door opened on a pile of crates, toolboxes, hoists, welding
equipment and a set of tires, among other assorted junk.

She looked over at me, a puzzled expression on her face.  Even Janey quit
belly-aching about her car.  Only Nicole was smiling.  She recognized the
shipping labels.

“Was my automobile in an accident?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.  “You can’t drive yet.”

“I know that, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

She’d been around Gertie too much.  She wasn’t easily distracted.  “Well,
you can’t drive yet, and that’s not a car.  Yet.  I figured by the time
you’re old enough to drive, we should just about have that roadster put
together.”

“We…?” Simone asked wide-eyed.  “As in, you and me?”

“Well, you, me and your Mom, I hope.  I have a feeling she can help us out a
lot, if she’s willing.”

Nicole was beaming her response.  This was how she had learned mechanics and
learned to love cars, from the ground up, working side by side with her
Papa.  I was giving her the opportunity to pass that along to her daughter,
as well as giving both of them the time with me.

“Hey!  That’s not fair.  She gets a roadster?”  Janey was finally catching
on.

I turned and leveled a sober look at her.  “Yes.  But you can trade if you
want…”

Mechanical things and Janey didn’t get along.  She looked at the pile of
boxes, then at the solid, well running car in her bay.  Then back at the
boxes, then back at her car.  Sheepishly she grinned, and declined the
trade.  Smart girl.

The transportation issues taken care of, we went in to the disaster known
euphemistically as ‘Moving day.’  Believe me, there is nothing moving about
that day unless you move it.  One fucking box at a time.  Oh, sure, the
movers get things close, but they still manage to misplace 50 or so boxes,
and it’s never from one room to the next, it’s from the basement to the
attic.

When all is said and done, though, it was a pretty easy move.  No furniture,
only clothes, personal items and some books.  Sally was keeping her
furniture for her own house, she said, but I really think it was just an
excuse to buy more things and spend more of my money.  Which she did
exceptionally well, by the way.

She had outdone herself with the renovation.  I didn’t recognize the place,
with the exception of the ornate and huge marble reception hall.  The twin
staircases still wound up the sides to the balcony.  The room off the
balcony was designed to be the focal point of our family, our family room.
It was the room that had been my favorite growing up, with its windowed
ceiling and floor to ceiling windows.  On clear nights I would lie there and
imagined I could see forever and ever.  Lightning storms were phenomenal.

Sally had taken that room and improved it.  It was a room that invited you
to come in and sit down and be a part of the household.  Huge, man-sized
pillows were strewn about in conversational groupings, freestanding
fireplaces had been installed at either side, providing a cheery dancing
light and needed heat for those long winter nights.  The old single-paned
windows were gone, as was most of the wall, replaced by a modern highly
efficient glass covering.  As this room spanned the width between the two
wings of the house, looking out from these windows you could see the
terraced gardens below and a narrow slice of the universe framed by the
rooms on either side.

The ground floor in our wing was mostly kitchen, breakfast nook, dining
rooms, yes plural, and an entertainment center.  I raised my eyebrows at all
of the fancy, and expensive, electronic equipment, especially as we used the
crock-pot more than we did the TV.  Sally just smiled mysteriously, as if
she knew something I hadn’t figured out yet.  Well, it wouldn’t be the first
time, so I kept quiet.

The bedrooms were on the second floor.  I was surprised that Janey and
Simone were going to share, and that there was only one bed, albeit huge.
Again, I raised my eyebrows in question, but the girls seemed to be totally
excited about rooming together.  Must be a girl thing.

Our room, now that was a bedroom.  You could hold a monster-truck rally in
that space and still have room for spectators.  OK, so it wasn’t quite that
cavernous, but it was big.  As was the bed, but not too big to lose the
three of us.  Three walk-in closets and a bathroom that defied belief.

As we were on the second floor, it wasn’t possible to put the Jacuzzi
outside.  So Sally had put it indoors, in a room with a separate sauna and a
steam room.  I shuddered to think of the energy bills to heat that space.
There was a door that joined this room with the teen’s room.  I noticed that
we could lock theirs, but they couldn’t lock ours.  It was the little
details that fascinated me about Sally.

The focal point of our bathroom, however, was not the Jacuzzi or sauna.  It
was the fully functional barber’s chair in the center of the floor.  There
was plenty of room to move around it to any of the three sinks, the commodes
or the huge multi-head shower.  I grinned as I hefted the heavy strop
hanging on the side of the chair, imaging the sound of it snapping against a
firm naked ass.  Sally and Nicole saw and moved closer together, clasping
hands.  Strange, I didn’t sense any fear, only excitement.

There were three straight razors hanging in a little rack on the back of the
chair, sharp and ready for use the next morning.  The chair was bolted to
the floor, so even if all three of us were on it at the same time, it
wouldn’t tip over.  I had a feeling that we would be late for breakfast
tomorrow morning.

The rest of the floor was guestrooms, another entrance to the family room I
mentioned earlier and a room that would best be described as a harem room.
Sally had copied CeCe’s design for the inside of a tent and made some
improvements here and there.

I headed up the stairs to the third floor, but Sally stopped me.  With a
quick glance at Nicole, and a deep breath, Sally touched a hidden button in
the wall of our bedroom.  Soft, minimal lighting switched on automatically,
illuminating an old spiral stone staircase that went down and down.  I
hadn’t remembered this from when I was growing up and I tried to remember
whose room this had been.  It would come to me.

The stairs led down to the lower cellar.  That was two levels below the
ground floor.  A veritable dungeon and Sally had made the most of it.  It
was rough, solid and completely outfitted with every type of bondage and
torture gadget you could think of.  Well, at least that I could think of.
Even then, there were some new ideas I hadn’t thought of, too.

The two women stood side by side in the dimly lit room, holding hands
tightly.  I didn’t get what the problem was, but they were nervous.  Then I
looked closer at the equipment.  A lot of it was used, and slightly
old-fashioned, kind of.  It was old.  But not that old.  My mind ran though
the history of the house.  And it hit me.

This stuff had belonged to my parents!

I sagged against the nearest pillar, stunned.