Chapter 28: Carter ll

Hours later, even though the methamphetamine effects must have worn off, Elyse looked much more relaxed and far less anxious than she'd been when she'd first arrived. She reclined on a couch in the second-floor corner lounge with all five of the harem girls plus Cameron, sharing further details of her story while I watched them from a barstool at the edge of the room. Sam and Tiffin had already left.

Elyse kept to the script I'd given her, freely speaking about sleeping on the streets and her horrific time with Jasper. She even talked about prostituting herself for money, but she carefully avoided the two little details I'd warned her not to tell.

One, that I'd been the one to turn her into a whore.

And two, that I'd been the one to sell her to Jasper in the first place. Jasper was my dirty little secret. Nobody, not even Cameron, knew the deals we'd made. And nobody, nobody, knew I'd arranged for him to roofie and rape Elyse's roommate so I could play "hero to the rescue" that fateful Halloween party so long ago.

As far as any of the girls knew, resorting to prostitution or becoming Jasper's punchboard had been Elyse's ideas, desperate measures for desperate times. I was happy for Elyse to tell the girls about those ordeals; figured they would scare the shit out of them and keep them in line. Certainly, Jessica had gone white, and innocent Audrey looked ready to throw up. The more they saw my house as a tranquil oasis amidst the stormy sea of the shadowy drug world, the better it was for me and the smoother my life would run.

After a while, though, Elyse looked pretty talked out. She felt relieved to have gotten her fix, and perhaps telling those stories had been cathartic for her soul. But the stress she'd been under for a long, long time had taken its toll, and at the moment she looked like she'd like nothing better than to take a nap.

I suggested she do so, and tasked Mary, the eldest and most maternal, with squaring her away in a guest room for a little bit. Everyone else had various chores to do, as nobody lived here without some responsibilities, and the house was always a bit in disarray on Sundays after Friday and Saturday night parties. And I dismissed them all to see to their duties.

I also had some calls to make, business to deal with Chad and Sam. But as I headed for my room, Cameron followed after me.

"Something up?" I asked as we descended the stairs down to the third floor.

"We need to talk," she intoned quietly.

I shrugged and waited until we were in my room. Once inside, I headed for my big Cal King bed and hopped onto it with a grin. Patting the sheets beside me, I said with a smirk, "Wanna join me?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. Even though she maintained a physical relationship with me, our encounters really weren't all that frequent. Most of my sexual satisfaction came from the harem, with only the occasional private moment for me and Cameron, or the odd Voyeur show when she would personally service me to maintain those fantasies. Consequently, I found myself always wanting more, but she played me like a fiddle, keeping me satisfied with her carefully-rationed blowjobs and never quite aspiring to full intercourse or anything like that.

"I want you to let Elyse go," she said without preamble, taking a seat in the armchair closest to my bed.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Send her away. Or send her back to Ben. He'll look after her."

I frowned. "Why on Earth would I want to do that? Why on Earth would SHE want to do that? She was just there and ran away from HIM, didn't she?"

"Because she couldn't last two weeks without getting a hit," Cameron explained. "She's an addict. But she'll get better if she stays with him."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Always the Florence Nightingale, aren't you? Come to save the poor, defenseless women from an oppressive society that keeps them slaves to tyrants like me."

Cameron pursed her lips. "I don't judge what you do, nor try to interfere. I can't say that Rebecca or Judene or Mary or Jessica or Audrey would be better off if they weren't here. But Elyse's time is over. She can't handle this life anymore. Let her go. Let her get healthy."

My eyes narrowed. "You've said that before. I didn't like what you did back then."

Cameron stared at her lap and sighed. "I realize you and Kelly didn't have the most amicable of break-ups. But she's a good person and she could have helped Elyse. She's been there, been to the brink of death and back. And you know what I'm scared of."

"Raleigh. And Jillian."

Cameron closed her eyes and shuddered quietly. I knew my ex-stepsister had never been entirely comfortable with my way of life. She put up with it because I was her brother and because she'd been a party girl herself. Even today she still got wired up from time to time, occasions I loved because she usually got horny and would mess around with me. But Cameron was strong, and able to keep a lid on her addictions. Unfortunately, the girls around her weren't always so strong, and after Raleigh had died she'd seemed on a mission to make sure nothing like her ever happened again. It was why she spent most of my "get-togethers" in the Ready Room, doting on both the harem and party girls like a Mother Hen and watching their usage like she were a doctor or something to make sure nobody got in over her head.

Even outside of the "get-togethers", Cameron spent a lot of time mid-week counseling the girls on their drug use and reminding them of the fine line between avid user and addict. I figured the whole thing was her way of assuaging her guilty conscience over what I was doing to them: seducing the girls into near-sexual slavery in exchange for illegal narcotics. Perhaps she might have also worked to shut me down, to let the girls be free of me and free of the drugs, but she could never bring herself to do that. Crystal Meth was funding the machines and medicine keeping our mother alive, and funding her own shopping trips and excursions into the city to live a normal life every now and again away from here. But ever since Kelly overdosed, nearly died, and ultimately left me, Cameron had been on a mission to make sure the same didn't happen to anyone else.

It was a mission she'd already failed. Twice.

Raleigh was the first. Even though Raleigh hadn't died in this house, we'd seen the photos of what was left of her when they found her body, half-eaten by stray dogs in the city. Jillian was the second, and one of our oldest friends. Jillian hadn't even been an addict, just a party girl who seemed to have her habit under control. We'd pegged her as one of the safe ones, a mature woman who knew what she was getting into. And if it could happen to Jillian, to get so wired up that her heart couldn't take it, then it could happen to anyone.

"Elyse could be next," Cameron said quietly. "She's halfway there."

"Not my problem."

"Carter, please." She took a deep breath and gathered herself. "Think rationally for a minute. I know what you did upstairs just now, having Elyse tell her whole horror story. The girls all soaked it up and they'll be on their best behavior now, lest they end up like her. But what's left to accomplish? The longer Elyse stays here, the more she'll freak out the others just by her very presence. They're already unnerved to have her here in the condition she's in, since they all remember when she was healthier and more normal and not ... well ... not THAT. The longer she stays, the more they'll see their OWN futures in her if they keep using."

"And wouldn't you like that? For them to decide to get cleaned up, move out, and get back to a normal life?"

"There will always be other girls to take their place. Aren't you getting tired of some of them anyway? It's been years. Let some of them go."

I shrugged. "Maybe after Lexi joins."

Cameron snorted. "In your dreams. Lexi's never going to join."

"And why not? She's certainly into me. Even with this whole Elyse-drama, she's still coming around."

Cameron shook her head. "Lexi's not like the others. No broken family. No hidden insecurities. She's a perfectly well-adjusted young woman who for the moment is excited by your bad boy demeanor and wild and crazy drug life. She's a teenager in over her head, but she's not going to LOSE her head. Lexi has friends who care about her, and she's semi-connected to Ben. He's not like the other guys you've had around here."

"I dunno. He certainly is a player."

"But he's not a user. He's a hero. He wants to protect women. That's dangerous for you."

I snorted now. "And when the hell did you get to know him so well? Had some deep and meaningful conversations when I wasn't looking in the few times he's been here or something?"

Cameron sighed and shook her head. "I can just tell."

I laughed. "Yeah, while he was making Rebecca blow her top and skewering Jillian up her ass until they both passed out? Or while watching that video his ex-girlfriend leaked onto the internet to boost her career? Yeah, real hero."

Cameron sighed and looked away. Shaking her head, she said, "The point is: Have fun with Lexi. Fuck her brains out. Enjoy how much she looks like me. But you don't need a sixth girlfriend. Fuck, if you're so intent on keeping Elyse around, you don't need a seventh girlfriend."

I shrugged. "Then I won't. If Elyse works out, I'll cut bitchy Judene loose. Probably Mary, too; she's getting old."

"Carter..."

"What? Set them free and let them go on with their lives or not? You can't have it both ways. Do you WANT them here or not?"

Cameron grimaced and took a deep breath, clearly conflicted. I didn't think she KNEW what she wanted. Closing her eyes, she took several deep, calming breaths. And opening them again she said firmly, "I want ALL of them to go on and have happy, meaningful lives. But I'm telling you, you should let Elyse go right now. Send her away."

"You said it yourself: we need the money. I've seen Elyse's policy. It would go a long way to covering Mom's bills for a long time to come."

Cameron blinked. "So you'll let her just cash out her life insurance?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "Actually, no. I kinda like her idea of getting the full death benefit. Sure, it'll take longer. We'll need to make me her beneficiary and it'll take some time before we can actually cash it in, but you said our savings will cover us until then, right?"

Cameron winced. "Maybe. Especially if we can cut back on other expenses overall for a little bit. That is, unless you can get a bigger cut from Chad."

"Not happening."

"So how are you gonna do it? Fake her death, I mean."

I laughed, getting up and staring out the big window overlooking the city. "That's the easy part. I don't even have to fake it. You said it yourself: Elyse is on the brink. Bring her back in as a girlfriend. Let her have ALL she wants. And then ... well ... the matter will take care of itself."

Cameron jerked upright in her chair. "You're not serious. You're gonna kill her?"

"I didn't say THAT. I'm not a murderer. I'm not going to overdose her on purpose."

"But you'd let HER do it to herself?!?" Cameron stared at me slack-jawed, venom and fear in her eyes.

I shrugged. "Accidents happen."

Cameron stood up and shook her head. "Carter, you've said some pretty messed up shit in front of me before, but what you're suggesting is insane."

I chuckled and waved her off as I turned to looking out the window again. "It was just an idea. But you're right, you're right. There's really not much of a difference between deliberately making her O.D. and not stopping her from O.D.'ing. I won't do that. I promise. Just kidding. I mean, well it would be easier if she just offed herself, but you're right, you're right. I think that would be going too far."

She frowned, staring at the wall and still slowly shaking her head. "You only think it's too far because I'm freaking out about it."

"No, really. I actually do have some ideas for how to fake it. I've got connections, and Sam and Sang could probably source a corpse. Any would do, really. We bribe a medical examiner to sign off on the corpse being Elyse, present that as an official document for the insurance, and we're in the clear. Elyse can live the rest of her life as Serena Grey, happy and horny and wired and all that jazz. It could work, right?"

Cameron didn't say anything right away. I turned around and found her huddled in the chair. She'd pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, staring blankly straight ahead.

"Cameron ... right?"

She still didn't respond.

"Hey, you alright?"

She muttered beneath her breath, "I can't believe you'd even think of letting her O.D."

"C'mon, it was a joke. That would be totally wrong."

"You ARE a sociopath."

"Hey now, let's not get carried away. I was kidding."

"You were NOT kidding. Ohmigawd, Carter. The hell is WRONG with you!" She got out of the chair, and I already knew she was going to storm out.

"C'mon, Cam! Lighten up. I SAID I was kidding!"

"I can't be here anymore. I can't BE here!" she muttered, shoving me aside with her forearm as she headed for the door.

"Cam! Seriously! I'm not a sociopath! We can totally fake it, alright! Cam! Cam!"

But she wasn't listening to me anymore. And she wasn't here anymore. She'd already taken off at a full-sprint up the stairs, putting as much distance between us as she could.

Fuck. Looked like I wouldn't be getting a blowjob from her for a while.

Of course, even if I wouldn't be getting a blowjob from Cameron for a while, it wasn't like I'd have to go very long before getting a blowjob from someone. That's where harems are quite useful. Any one girl in particular might not really need to have sex every day of the week, unlike me. And any one girl in particular might not really want to give her boyfriend a blowjob every single day of the week. But when such duties are split up amongst six different women, the balance of "need" is changed so dramatically that more often it sometimes seemed that the girls were the ones not getting cock often enough. Throw in the fact that they each knew that pleasing me would directly lead to better treatment and less punishment, and it became a simple matter of me sitting down and unzipping my fly to make the girls almost fight each other to have the honor of sucking on my schlong.

So it was that I found myself sagging in an armchair and staring out the window while bitchy, slutty Judene knelt before me with my cock halfway down her throat while young trailer-trash Jessica pouted on the couch nearby. The warm wetness of Judene's sloppy blowjob served as a pleasurable distraction, sending positive endorphins or some such scientific shit up into my brain to make me feel happy, or at least happier than if she wasn't giving me a blowjob and left alone to my idle thoughts about Cameron.

I wondered where she was.

I wondered who she was with.

I wondered if she was getting fucked.

The cold reality was that Cameron still wouldn't have sex with me, and yet I knew quite plainly that Cameron was not being abstinent. She was a healthy young woman with a sex drive to match, and although I didn't know the details of any of her hookups, I was aware that someone was giving her the long-dicking she needed to get by. Possibly, there were even multiple different someones who did so. Maybe she had a steady boyfriend out there. Maybe all she had was a string of one-night stands.

I didn't know, and really, I didn't WANT to know. It wasn't so different from when we were teenagers and she'd date various high schoolers and college boys. Cameron had sex, and I knew that she did, but I tried to not think about it. They got to do the one thing with her that I couldn't, that she wouldn't let me do:

They got to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world.

I understood that she needed to feel dick inside her from time to time. Hell, as great as Cameron's blowjobs felt, I needed to feel pussy wrapped around my cock pretty often myself. But I died inside a little bit every time she went out, knowing that she had to look elsewhere for the one pleasure I couldn't give her.

She thought I'd consider it an honor that she loved me so much that she wouldn't fuck me. As siblings, we were eternal. But if we crossed that line, if we became true lovers, then we could possibly fail.

I didn't see the logic.

Perhaps the only saving grace in all that was her assurance that she didn't let guys squirt into her pussy. It wasn't a birth control thing, it was a trust thing. She made them wear condoms and even so she usually made them pull out. I appreciated that knowledge. It made me feel like she was ... saving herself ... for me.

Thinking about Cameron saving herself for me made me feel better. The pleasure of Judene's blowjob made me feel better. But then klutzy Mary had to go and bump into one of the paintings I had framed and mounted in the hallway, knocking it off its hook and sending it crashing to the floor, and all my happy feelings went away.

I didn't know how she managed to knock it off, and I didn't really care. In a blink of an eye, I calmly assessed the situation and recognized the limited value of the damage. Really, a cracked picture frame glass didn't cost all THAT much, and the logical action would be to send Mary into town to buy a replacement. No biggie. I was more angry about the interruption, if anything. And if Cameron hadn't been OUT of the house on a Sunday, putting me on edge in the first place, I probably wouldn't even have gotten mad.

But unfortunately for Mary, Cameron wasn't here, and I HAD been on edge. My happy feelings were gone, and all I was left with was the pain and agony of knowing my Cameron was out there somewhere, doing something with someone. And I didn't really LIKE being stuck with that pain.

So I got mad, but I didn't get mad like some people do. Rage consumed me – filled me until I could feel it oozing out of my pores – but I didn't lose my clarity of thought, didn't lose my composure. Still, I was mad. Not so mad as to lose rational control but mad enough to want to ... HURT something ... as if some form of cosmic revenge would put my life back into balance.

I was well familiar with this state of mind. I'd started calling it "red haze" back when I was a teenager, and it was a condition I'd found myself in more and more often lately.

Mom could always recognize when I was in "red haze". It happened a lot when I was younger and the bullies kept picking on me. Even when angry, my mental clarity prevented me from doing something stupid, like being a 98-pound weakling trying to retaliate against three boys twice my size. And when I got older, it reminded me that polite society frowned on certain vengeful actions that would get me in more trouble than it was worth.

Mom had always known how to talk to me when I was like this. Many a day after school had been spent in front of her, venting my hatred of the world. When Cameron had left for Yale, Mom had been my only outlet, my only confidante, the only person in the world I could talk to about the violent thoughts running around in my head.

Of course, I could still talk TO Mom, and I still did. But for almost three years now she couldn't talk back. She couldn't reassure me with warmth and wisdom and practical logic to turn my red haze into cool calm. And so more and more often in the last few years, the red haze lingered on.

There was no one else to talk to, no one else I could trust. I'd tried to share these thoughts with Cameron shortly after Mom had her stroke, back when she was promising to take care of me. But Mom never had the look of horror and disgust that showed up on Cameron's face when I revealed that dark side of me, so I'd never tried to talk to Cameron about it again. And so now, whenever the red haze showed up, I simply had to ... go with it.

There was no one to tell me when I was going too far. No one to keep my unholy urges in check. Cameron tried, but her criticisms were full of disgust and dismay. I didn't like that, didn't listen. In that regard, she was just like another girlfriend who didn't truly understand. Not like her; not like Mom.

The moment I got into "red haze", the game was over. If Cameron couldn't talk me down from my rage, then there was no way Judene could. Not Jessica. And certainly not the culprit Mary. To their credit, none of them even tried. They all recognized the juggernaut, and they each did their best to just get the hell out of my way.

Mom would have calmed me down, would have stopped me from doing to Mary what I was about to do.

But Mom wasn't here anymore.

So I got up from my armchair. Erection bobbing, I stalked down the hallway while Mary whimpered, cried, and pleaded with her eyes for mercy. But she already knew she wouldn't get any, and so she barely reacted when I calmly pointed toward the nearest bedroom.

Obediently, Mary got up and walked inside. Life with me was a meritocracy, after all. The girls only got what they deserved.

-- MONDAY, APRIL 24, 2006 --

It was after 2am, but I was awake and waiting in her bedroom. I knew she'd come home eventually, as I hadn't received any messages specifying otherwise. The last time she'd stayed out all night without at least sending a text had been last August, and my morning rage had been so terrifying that she knew better than to let it happen again.

Sure enough, she did come back. But although the lights were off and I lurked in the darkness, she barely reacted when she flipped the light switch and saw me sitting on the armchair in her bedroom. "Hey..." Cameron greeted wearily. "Kinda figured you'd still be up."

"I always wait for you when you go out. Always."

Sighing, she nodded. "I know, I know."

"It's because I worry. It's because I care."

"I know." Sighing again, Cameron set her purse down on the dresser drawer and started futzing with her earrings.

"You're later than usual."

She shrugged and finished undoing both of her earrings, fastening the screws and setting them down as well. Her necklace was next. "I had a lot to talk about."

"Who were you with?"

"You know that's none of your business," she replied dismissively without looking at me as she tossed her jacket onto the bed and headed for her closet.

"Did you have sex tonight?"

"That's none of your business, either," she replied, still with her back to me as she stood in front of her closet and unzipped the back of her dress.

"I'll find out soon enough," I shot back.

She glanced back at me with an arched eyebrow, knowing exactly what I meant by that. "Not tonight. Like you said, it's late."

"Doesn't matter. I still want to," I insisted.

"But I'm not in the mood."

"That's not the point."

Cameron sighed and shook her head. "It was never a hard and fast rule to let you every time I go out."

"You just always let me because you felt guilty for leaving me."

"Yeah well I don't feel guilty tonight, not after what you said before I left."

"Still on that? C'mon, I was joking."

"No you weren't. And don't pretend otherwise with me. I know you too well."

"I'm not a murderer."

"And I'm glad. Because sometimes I wonder just what you're capable of."

"Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what. Huh? Don't be right? You've got issues, maybe medical or psychiatric issues."

"I'm NOT a sociopath. If I was, do you think I'd care about what you thought? Huh?"

Shaking her head, Cameron looked ready to cry as she finally turned to look at me, and in a heartbroken voice she whimpered, "I don't know what's worse, thinking you're a conscienceless sociopath or thinking that you actually DO have emotions in there, but you're simply an immoral monster!"

"I'm not a monster. Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I'll readily admit that I'm a user, okay, that maybe I take advantage of the situation I'm in. But I don't force anybody to be here. Nobody is a slave. I have money and drugs and the girls all choose to be here of their own accord, Elyse included. I didn't go find her. SHE came back HERE. And you can doubt me all you want about whether or not I'd have let her O.D., but the fact is that I leave those decisions up to THEM. Would a monster do that? Would a sociopath let them choose for themselves?"

Cameron closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and grimaced hard. "No you're not," she said before repeating again, "No you're not. No you're not. No you're not."

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than answer me.

Her eyes opened, and she stared back at me with a new fire in her eyes. Green flames shot out through her irises, and she turned away from me to head into her en suite bathroom. "But whatever you are, you're not touching me, not tonight. Go back to your room, little brother. I need to get some sleep."

Cameron's tone was cold, dismissive, and she walked into her bathroom to go take a shower. I'm sure she expected me to leave; while she didn't order me away very often after a night she'd gone out, it had happened from time to time and I hadn't pressed her. But tonight, that "little brother" crack had gotten me riled up, and instead of leaving I got off the armchair and followed after her.

By the time I reached her she'd already unzipped her dress and slid it down to her hips. She started when my hands took over from there, dropping the delicate material down to her ankles and holding it there so she could step out of it the way I'd done for her countless times in the past.

But she didn't step out of her dress. Twisting to look back at me, I could still see the fire of anger in her eyes mixed with an almost pitying expression on her lips. She knew what I wanted, knew what I expected, and knew how important it was to me. It wasn't even something I asked HER to do, but rather something I asked her to let ME do to her. It was part of our intimacy, part of our special bond. And tonight, I hoped it would be a part of mending the damage caused by our argument before she'd left.

The "rule" we were arguing about was a routine we'd developed whenever she would go out. I knew she sometimes needed to have sex, to feel a hard, throbbing cock deep inside her. But rather than resent her for seeking that pleasure outside of this house, I was determined to remind her of the pleasure that waited for her right here.

The "rule" was that I got to go down on her when she got home. It was important to me, a condition I'd imposed when she first expressed a need to find her sexual satisfaction away from me. No matter what pleasure she found from whatever guy or guys she simply HAD to be with instead of me, I wanted her final orgasm of the night to be on my tongue. Mine. From the man who loved her more than any other man possibly could.

I didn't even ask that she reciprocate. I didn't need a blowjob, didn't need a release of my own. My satisfaction was in HER satisfaction, and after an evening spent away from this house because MY words had hurt her, I was on a mission to make it up to her. Maybe she'd already had sex tonight, and her orgasm on my tongue would simply be the cherry on top. Then again, maybe she didn't have sex tonight and spent the whole evening only talking to her girlfriends, so her orgasm on my tongue would be "the one". Sure, she'd told me to go away, to not touch her. But this was important to me.

"You don't want to do that," she cautioned when I pressed my nose into the crack of her ass.

"Yes, I do," I replied immediately, and she hissed as I pulled the crotch strap of her thong aside and shoved my tongue into her wrinkled anus.

"Carter..." she breathed as her sphincter tightened around my slippery appendage. "It's been a long day and I'm all grimy. Let me take a shower."

"You're musky. I like it," I replied before resuming my rim job. Still squatting, I took hold of her panties and pulled them down as well, leaving her clad only in her high heels and a bra. I reached up to grab both sides of her pelvis, yanking her body against my face so that my nose pressed into her butt cleavage, and I crammed my tongue as far into her rectum as I could.

Cameron squirmed a little uncomfortably. She didn't like anal play, which was certainly why I'd been messing with her anus so much recently. It was just my way of doing things: pushing boundaries. I got off on it: making people do things they didn't want to do. Even her. I never felt so proud of myself as when I made her orgasm with my tongue or fingers in her ass, made her climax despite her discomfort.

She always let me do it as a compromise to either vaginal or anal intercourse. I wanted to have intercourse, of course. If penetrative pleasure was what she needed, then I'd have been happy to step up and do my duty. We weren't blood-related. There were no risks of mutant babies. There were no rational reasons NOT to apart from her unwillingness to do so with me. She knew it was my holy grail of desire, and in the course of erecting all her defenses around that single impermissible act, I'd gotten her to compromise on just about everything else. Oral sex, titfucks, dry humping, and hot-dogging her buns were pretty commonplace. She didn't like me tonguing her ass, and she certainly didn't like me peeing on her in the shower, but those things she let me do on occasion if it meant I'd stop pestering her about shoving my dick into one of her two holes.

Unfortunately, THAT privilege was reserved for lesser men. She got her dick elsewhere ... sometimes. Not every time. But I'd meant what I'd said about finding out soon enough. She never had to tell me verbally whether or not she'd had sex that night. The pussy didn't lie.

The moment I got a good look at her labia I would be able to tell if her cunt had been penetrated or not, although it was sometimes difficult to tell whether or not a man's cock or one of her gilfriends' dildos had done the deed. Still, I could smell or taste whether or not she'd let a man cum inside her, but she knew how much I hated those occasions and as such those times were rare indeed. That night last August when she didn't come home at night, she'd come home with an empty vagina but I could still smell that sperm had been in her, and I'd stopped going down on her immediately. To say that I was pissed was an understatement. She'd told me she wouldn't do that, she'd let me believe she would save herself for me. And no way in hell was I going to suck out another man's creampie, or even a hint of it. I'd stormed out in righteous rage and promptly fucked the shit out of the first girl that crossed my path. Turned out that it wasn't even one my harem girls, but some random slut who'd spent the night with Sam.

Ever since then, Cameron had been very careful about not letting her lover (or lovers) shoot off inside her, and she'd always made them wear a condom or otherwise pull out. At least she had ... until tonight.

Tonight she rather deliberately presented me with a cunt full of cum.

Cameron had been bracing herself against the wall while I tongued her ass. She cautioned me twice more that I didn't want to be down there, but I ignored her warnings until she finally stepped out of her dress and panties and turned herself around so that her back was against the wall and her legs were spread in an A-shape.

She was gorgeous, wearing just those heels and her bra. She opened up her crotch for me, staring down with glittering eyes as I moved my face back in to take my first lick at her saturated pussy. But it was only after the salty taste started to seep into my brain that I realized what was coating my tongue. And in abject horror I spit out the filthy jism and rocked backwards so fast that I promptly sprawled on my ass.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?" I yelled in absolute shock.

Cameron shrugged smugly. "Told ya you didn't want to be down there."

In a rage I sprang to my feet and reacted the same way I'd done with all of my girls whenever they angered me. I cocked my hand back and readied it for the slap. But just as my hand started moving forward, I arrested its forward momentum. Cameron was already flinching, already bracing herself for the blow. But I stayed my hand and contorted my face into a snarl of livid fury while my unadulterated revulsion at what she'd just made me taste clashed with my holy reverence for the One True Love of my life.

I'd never hit Cameron before, and I didn't want to start now, no matter what she'd just done to me. We'd fought a lot over the years, about the way I treated my girls and about her friendship with Kelly. I'd made a lot of threats and Cameron had done a lot of posturing about how I didn't own her, didn't control her, and that she was free to live her own life. She knew I'd never hit her, knew the impotence of my rage when it came to staying mad at her. She owned my heart, and she had wielded that power on more than one occasion to get me to change my behavior in one fashion or another.

Maybe that's what she was trying to accomplish with this, to teach me a lesson about callously dismissing Elyse's life.

Maybe she just wanted to fuck with me, to shove a big load in my face (literally).

Whatever her motivations, it was clear that Cameron now knew I wouldn't lay a finger on her in retaliation. I was angry, and she knew I was angry, but she was already standing up straight and giving me that smug grin of hers, knowing that my raised hand would never strike down, would never hurt her.

At least, I'd never hurt her.

"Red haze" still demanded vengeance, and wordlessly, I turned and walked out of the room. Cameron didn't follow, perhaps believing that she'd won and I'd turned tail to run away. I don't know exactly how she reacted once I left, whether she'd smiled proudly at the wound she'd given me, or whether she'd broken down crying over the anguish she should know I felt in my heart over her betrayal. All I know is that she didn't come out of her room right away.

She only came out of the room when she heard the screams.

Nobody came to Rebecca's rescue, not right away. She didn't have a roommate, not after Elyse left, so she was all alone and helpless when I burst in while she was sleeping.

The youngest two, Jessica and Audrey, shared a room right next door. They were the first to come running. Bitchy Judene and busty Mary were across the hall. They arrived shortly after.

None of them moved to intervene. None of them knew WHY I was beating the shit out of Rebecca, but all of them knew better than to put themselves between her and harm's way. They didn't really want to watch, but they didn't leave, either. And no matter how loudly Rebecca cried out or pleaded for someone, anyone to help her, even SHE had to know none of the other girls would step forward in her defense.

It was Cameron, of course, who probably saved Rebecca's life, although it took her a while to get here from the other side of the house. I'm not saying I would have intentionally beaten my longest-tenured girlfriend to death, but I didn't think I'd ever been quite this angry before, either. At the very least, Cameron's arrival certainly saved her a lot of pain. I was far from done with my rage, and I would have gone on kicking and punching a lot longer had Cameron not arrived. And really, who knows how much more damage I might have caused?

Unfortunately for Rebecca, Cameron's first impulse was to try and stop ME. Bad idea. I wouldn't hit her, but I didn't let her hang onto my arms or torso very long before flinging her aside and going back to hammering on Rebecca. It was only after the first five or so tries failed that she got it in her head to blanket Rebecca's body with her own. And only once I realized it would be too much of a hassle to try and hit Rebecca around Cameron that I finally gave up and marched out of the room.

Only then did Elyse finally make it down from a guest room upstairs. We met in the hall, but the look on my face must have been terrifying because she immediately jerked her eyes to the floor and dropped to the floor, curling inward as if trying to melt into invisibility. It was a good thing she did, because like I said, I was far from done with my rage when Cameron intervened, and for a moment I thought about exorcising my wrath on her. But instead I retreated to my bedroom to stare out the window and seethe in righteous fury.

It wasn't MY fault I had to go and beat up Rebecca. Cameron was the one who deserved punishment for coming into my house with a cunt full of semen. Cameron deserved a penalty for making me taste the god-awful spunk. And it was Rebecca's fault for being Cameron's best friend in the house that made me go straight for her.

I felt fully justified in my actions. Bitch acted out of line, and bitch needed to be slapped back into line. That the "bitch" in question was actually Cameron was immaterial. That Rebecca had done nothing wrong was likewise immaterial. Cameron had put Rebecca in the line of fire by making her the proxy, by making her the "best friend". Now Cameron would think twice about crossing me, knowing that even though I would never harm her directly I was more than willing to lash out at one of her precious "girls" in her place.

Breathing heavily, I sat down in my desk chair and swiveled it to look out the windows at the night sky. Breathing heavily, I stretched out my fingers and examined the damage I'd done to them in my violent outburst.

Breathing heavily, I glanced down at my crotch and realized I was rock hard.

Adrenaline did that to me, and again, this wasn't my fault. Cameron was the one who'd gotten me angry, and if the world was fair, Cameron should be the one to make my cock deflate. But I already knew she'd refuse. Though I didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse for what I'd done, I was smart enough to recognize that SHE wouldn't feel the same sense of justification I did. She'd probably hate me for what I'd done, and since I could never MAKE her suck my cock, I was smart enough to know she wouldn't service me tonight.

So I stabbed the intercom button for Rebecca's room and barked, "Audrey, get in here!"

To her credit, Audrey didn't delay. The poor little thing was scared half to death when she showed up in my room, her eyes absolutely HUGE as she gawked at me in abject fear. But when I snapped my fingers and pointed at my crotch, she merely took a big gulp before moving forward and sinking to her knees.

Audrey gagged and dry-retched when I gripped the back of her head and kept her pinned with my cock down her throat a little too long, but otherwise she did a pretty good job.

Unfortunately for her, she didn't get me off in her mouth. MORE unfortunately for her, she hadn't lubed up her asshole, not something a girl usually does at three in the morning while she's asleep.

But that wasn't my problem. I took her dry, and no matter how much she screamed, I didn't stop until I plugged her ass up full.

Cameron, Elyse, Rebecca, Mary, Audrey, and Jessica were all at the dining table when I finally emerged. Only Judene was missing, and she was still recovering in my bedroom after being my morning wake-up call.

It was unusual for all of them to be together on a non-Sunday morning, but perhaps after last night's events they felt safer in numbers. Rebecca certainly tried to hide in Cameron's shadow at the mere sight of me, nevermind that she should have been blaming Cameron for setting me off in the first place.

Oh well. Bitches and their messed up logic.

When I pulled out my chair at the head of the table, Jessica was quick to slide a plate of eggs over to me. But instead of taking it, I sat erect and looked coldly down the table at my ex-stepsister.

"Cameron," I intoned softly but firmly, "For the foreseeable future you are not to leave this house without permission."

Cameron blinked in surprise and frowned at me. "Excuse me?"

"I think you heard what I just said."

Screwing her face up, Cameron shook her head and retorted, "Uh, you don't own me. You can't tell me where or when I'm allowed to go or not go."

"You're absolutely right. I can't. But I'll tell you now that there are consequences for your actions, and should you choose to leave these premises, there WILL be consequences."

She gulped in real fear. "Carter, I think you're blowing this all out of proportion."

"What happened to Rebecca last night was quite unfortunate. It would be even more unfortunate if the same happened to ... say ... Mary?" I stated calmly, keeping my eyes on Cameron while Mary inhaled sharply and covered her mouth with both hands. "The choice is yours, sugar. Please, feel free to go out and about and get your cunt stuffed with some asshole's sperm. But if you do, you won't be around to stop me."

"Well maybe Mary won't be around for you to beat up."

I shrugged and turned to look straight at Mary. "If she wants to leave, that's HER choice. It's a scary world out there, all alone with no money, no resources, and no marketable job skills. If that's what she wants, then she's welcome to go right ahead."

Mary didn't meet my eyes. If anything, she tried to shrink in her chair.

"And of course, if Mary were not conveniently nearby, then I suppose it would be terribly unfortunate if something were to happen to ... Judene. Or Jessica. Or Audrey."

Now all of the girls were staring into their laps, even Elyse. Cameron, on the other hand, still stared back at me. But she was visibly shaken and lacking any of her usual confident poise.

I stared straight at Cameron, nodding slowly as I repeated quite calmly. "The choice is yours."

In the end, Cameron didn't have to choose. She didn't leave the house again without permission, but not because of my order.

Mom died that night.