Title: They Call Me Ismail
Keywords: voy, mf, mdom, bond, Ff, nc, inc, teen, mom, son, dad, daughter, anal, cheat, group, mat, internet, nosex
Author: Caesar
Summary: Someone is sending sexually rich photos of his daughter and this his wife to him in email.




In bed Dr. Oscar McPugh
Spoke of Spengler -- and ate crackers too.
        His wife said, "Oh, stuff
        That philosophy guff
Up your ass, dear, and throw me a screw!"



They Call Me Ismail

by Caesar, copyright 1999

$Revision: 1.17 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:46 $

My Netscape inbox new mail indicator had the red flag up which
indicated I had new mail waiting for me.  If your reading this
account, which is where it all started not so long ago, via the
Internet you must know just how email works.

Just looking for any excuse not to work I minimized the window that I
had been working on and double clicked on the mail indicator.
Netscape mail finally came up, I've never been satisfied with the
speed of my machine, and began to download my new messages.

I rarely get mail, except for the unwanted spam message of course,
that is unrelated to work.  Sometimes a friend from the coast sends me
mail, but rarely.  I assumed, since the message was taking so long to
download, that someone had again sent me that darn dancing baby.  Cute
once, irritating the second time.  Especially if it gets sent to you
multiple times in your email.

Sitting back I took a sip of my coffee and watch the indicator get
closer to the end.

Finally.

I saw a single message in the inbox but it was from 'anon@nowhere.now'
and had no subject line.  Great a spammer that sent huge attachments
in their messages.

Half prepared to delete it immediately I clicked on the message and a
picture appeared inline to the body of the message.  Or at least the
top portion of a picture.

Frowning I stared at the face and neck of my daughter Liz.  Someone
had sent me a picture of my own daughter?

I saw that the scroll bar was small indicating there was more to the
message.  I clicked with my mouse and the message scrolled down
slowly.

What I saw changed my life, Liz was wearing only white socks and a
smile.  My own daughter was naked!  She was standing in what was
obviously her bedroom, upon her own bed, hands behind her back, her
young pert breasts thrust out proudly and her sparse pubic hair darker
than the hair upon her head.  For the first time in years I saw the
long sleek lines of my own daughters nudity, her thin lithe teenage
body with its flat stomach, smooth flawless skin and definite woman's
shape.  She was beautiful!

I saw and digested all that in a mere second.

Quickly I closed Netscape and sat staring at the place upon my monitor
that my own daughter had been.  My god who the hell would send me this
picture while at work?  Who the hell took the picture, Liz didn't even
have a fucking boyfriend?

Like a conspirator I looked around expecting to see my coworkers
snickering at what they just witnessed.  I saw only two people and it
was impossible for them to see my monitor from where they sat.  In
fact, I had set my monitor just so most could not see what was on my
screen.

I actually picked up the phone and dialled home to tell my wife Helen
just what happened.  It rang only twice when I reopened Netscape and
clicked on the same message.  There she was my own daughter.  Some
sicko pervert fuck had thought to play a joke and send me a picture of
my own daughter.  Hope he got his rocks off, because I'll have his
name out of Liz as soon as she gets home from school.

No answer.  I hung up frustrated.

Liz's eyes looked at me, through the camera and monitor to stare at
her father.  The one now looking at her naked proud stance and
attractive body.

Yes, indeed, she was very attractive.  Beautiful even.  If you
consider a thin seventeen year-old can be 'beautiful'.  In fact she
looked rather sexy...!

Oh god, my own daughter!  Those eyes condemned me.


 -*-

I didn't tell Helen, I'm not sure why.  Nor did I speak to Liz about
it.  In fact, we sat for our regular evening meal and when it was done
the kids ran off to their room while Helen started to clean up.  I was
left with the memories of my daughter naked body and smiling proud
face.

That next day, approximately the same time, I received another email.

When my download indication took a long while my heart beat faster and
I wondered if another picture of my own daughter soon awaited me.  It
was.

Liz stood in profile, facing another teenage girl of approximately the
same age.  She didn't look familiar at all, none of the friends that
Liz had over to the house while I was home that was certain.  Yet, the
picture was in our living room, with the fireplace behind the two
teens.

The unknown girl was the same height as Liz, shorter darker hair,
several pounds heavier.  Where Liz was sleek and lithe, the new girl
was soft and voluptuous.  From what I could see, she didn't have as
pretty a face as Liz but still comely in a teenage sort of way.

It was what the two teenage girls where doing that startled me.

Liz and this voluptuous babe were in a wide mouthed wet passionate
kiss.  They were pressed together and wore clothes, if that is what
they could be called.  Liz wore a short tee-shirt that ended just
above her navel and only a pair of plain white cotton panties on.  The
other young woman wore a bikini top and tight shorts.  The tee shirt
and bikini were both partially transparent, I could see the two
darkened nipples as they pressed against the others bodies.  The other
girl probably had a 'C' cup bosom.  While the girl had her head tilted
away from the camera, Liz was towards it and I had a great view of
their sloppy sexy kiss.  Liz had one hand just beneath the large
breast and the other upon the others back.  The heavier girl had one
hand beneath the cotton panty and had a full handful of my daughters
hard teenage butt.  The second hand I could not see.

Again, the message had no text in the body nor a subject line.


 -*-


All through supper I watched her, seeing a different young woman than
I had ever seen before.  Here was a woman that had a life outside the
one her family had raised her with, a sexual life.  Even a bi-sexual
life evidently.  Those lips that ate had kissed those full lips of the
other girl with hunger.  I wondered what else they did.

Again I never mentioned the photos or questioned my daughter.

Yet again I received another large message containing a erotic picture
of my daughter, again at the same time of day.

This time I knew not where it was taken, a basement somewheres.  Liz
was fully naked in the black and white photo, and lay upon the lap of
a dressed woman.  The woman had an attractive short skirt on with dark
hose and black heels, feet together.  Very attractive legs.  The photo
only came up to clothed woman's moderate white blouse covered chest,
no face could be seen.  Yet I guessed her to be a few years older than
Liz, just by the styles and posture.

One hand roughly held my daughters hair and forced the face up towards
the camera.  While the other had just came down upon the round hard
buttocks in a strong spanking, the sexy ass was indented with the
pressure of the blow.  Liz was open mouthed in a scream of pain and
wild look was in her eye that I could only guess at.

It was a photo of a lifestyle I had never even imagined.  Oh, of
course I've heard and read about others indulging in dominance and
spanking and other such things.  But to have such a blunt image as
this picture thrust upon me, left me dizzy with the cloud of my own
mind.  Her mother and I had never even spanked Liz as a child!

I was this girls father - what was I to do?


 -*-


That weekend was rough for me, I avoided my daughter as much as
possible.  Yet, my mind could not get out the images that some
malicious fuck had sent me.

Helen had been energetic in our weekly early-Sunday-morning-fuck, as
she always was.  Yet as she bounced up and down upon my lap, my cock
buried deep within her, I could not get the images of my daughter out
of my head.  That didn't trouble me nearly as much as when I had a
very fulfilling and explosive orgasm that left me drained and
exhausted till noon.  Helen just laughed playfully and whispered into
my ear, "Your getting old honey!"

Old indeed, I had imagined it was my daughter that had been bouncing
above me when I finally came!

Monday, approximately the same time, I received yet another email and
photograph.

Each of the three other photos were each successively more graphic, I
trembled when I finally opened the new message.  I knew these images
excited me, they shouldn't of course, but they did.  I had no idea how
to stop them though, or how to stop the fire in my own veins.

I was not disappointed.

Liz was naked and bound.  Her wrists bound together with a white rope
over my own dining room table.  The other end of the binding went over
the far end of the table and bound to the floor.  Both her ankles were
tied to the table legs, far apart.  Behind her stood that same
bountiful teenager from the second photo, naked except for a wide
leather strap and what I can only describe as a jutting cock.  Yup, a
pale coloured six inch long fake cock was attached in some way to the
front of the belt, just at right level that a cock would be if she had
been a man.  The other end of the cock was inside my own daughters
vagina, just small portion of the rounded head.

My daughter's face was flat on my table but facing the camera, her
mouth open and her eyes practically screaming out her passion and
enjoyment.  The pudgy girl was holding the base of her cock, aiming it
for what looked like the final thrust, a look of concentration upon
her brow.

In the corner of the picture, another woman, possibly the same woman
as the last photo.  Or rather only her legs.  She wore white nylons,
the thigh high kind.  The photo stopped at her navel, but it was
evident that she wore nothing else.  One of her hands was between her
thighs watching the ocean before her.

It was done in such detail that I could see the moisture upon the
flowered open ready-to-be-invaded vagina of Liz, my daughter.  I could
also see a ring of moisture about my daughters lips and chin, the
substance unknown.  Yet I thought of some very graphic conclusions.

I must have stared at that picture for twenty minutes.  It was
graphic, kinky and very exciting.  My daughter seemed to be in some
lesbian group, if such things exist, and evidently enjoying herself.

I reviewed the four photos, and determined this 'group' had been going
on for some time.  Simply from the different hair styles that my
daughter wore, and from the placement of some of the furniture and
items about my own house.

My house!  My daughter!


 -*-


I didn't say a thing that night but was determined to tell Helen about
these disturbing images.  Why I didn't, I'm not sure.  Perhaps it was
because I wanted to find out what the next image was.  It fascinated
me, and it most certainly turned me on.

The next email came, again, at the same time.  Though it was much
smaller this time.  I opened it and only saw one line in the body, a
email address at Yahoo.  The user id was simply a random mixture of
numbers and letters.  Whomever had been sending these pictures wanted
to chat, I'm just not sure I wanted to chat with them.

But of course my curiosity won out and I sent a rather terse email.
"Who is this?  Where did you get these pictures?".

My anger rising at the intrusion into my life, both aimed towards my
daughter for her adventurous and wild private life and this unknown
individual who was sending me email.

Surprise, a response returned within minutes.  Whomever it was, was
also online at the same time I was.

"They call me Ismail."  Huh?  That sounded familiar but I couldn't
place it.  It didn't matter, it seems it was what the person wanted to
be called.  "I have many many more - are you ready?"

It didn't take me long to answer, "Yes."  What else could I do.  If I
was to find out who this was that invaded our private lives, I had to
play this persons game.

Soon another picture came.  If the first picture that was sent to me
startled me from my middle-aged bliss, this picture crushed any
illusions I may have about my life, future and past.  Yes, it was that
intense.

Within the photo, my daughter was kneeling naked on our living room
floor, her head between the sexy mature thighs of my own wife Helen.
Helen wore white stockings, the same as the previous photo, and had
her ankles upon on the edge of the couch and wide apart.  Liz's tongue
was sticking out and was half submerged into the grotto of my wife's
love canal, her vagina.  Helen had her head flung back in ecstasy, one
that I've seen before in our marriage bed and was holding her own
breasts.

Almost comically, I said, "I definitely can't tell Helen about the
pictures!"


 -*-


It was incest!  Sex with a minor!

My wife Helen with our seventeen year old daughter Liz.  Named after
Helen's mother, Elizabeth.  My total world, the one where my family
was the foundation of my life, tumbled down in a millisecond.

I stumbled out of work, hours early, with those images in my
briefcase.  What was I to do?  What could I do?  What should I do?

It was illegal, it was immoral, it was disgusting!

Was it?

I was certainly excited by the images of my darling daughter in the
raw glory of her lesbian escapades, of the simple sight of her nudity.
Perhaps it was similar with my wife?  I could imagine something along
the lines of... Helen walks in on Liz masturbating and storms out,
hours later attempts to talk with her daughter, one thing leads to
another and they begin their first incestuous tumble.

A part of that scenario turned me on immensely!  Another part of that
drew out my life's blood, that I could be betrayed by my own wife and
daughter.

It had to be Helen's fault right?  She was the adult.  She was the one
that had spanked Liz, not the other way around.  Had my wife
orchestrated all this, had organized my daughters fall to the level of
a sexual slut, a whore?

Never before would I have even considered it.

I returned home late, ate supper and crawled into our marriage bed
next to my sleeping wife.  I lay in the dark hearing her light regular
breathing and remember the photo of her stocking clad legs with her
hand between them masturbating while her own daughter was fucked by
another girl.  Normally it was too fantastic and impossible to
imagine.  Yet, I had the digital images in my briefcase, proof!

Another message came to me the next day, "You like?"

The bastard!  Asking me that.  He must know who I was, how could he
not.  So he asked me this question when I felt my life was crumbling
about me!

I wrote back, honestly, "It disturbed me."

Ismail replied minutes later, "You like?!"

I had to find out this bastard was, "Yes."  It was true wasn't it?  As
much as I hate to admit it, it turned me on immensely.

Another photo some appeared in my mailbox.  My naked wife now wore the
leather belt and fake cock, the other end within my own daughters
rectum.  Liz lay upon my marriage bed, her knees by her breasts and
held with her own hands.  Helen knelt between them and it looked as if
she was pumping, as a man would, within my own daughters bowels.

I felt like crying.  I nearly did.


 -*-


"Liz does anything for her mom."  Ismail wrote.  "I have many
pictures."

I wrote back, "Who are you?"

"They call me Ismail."  Bastard.  "Liz calls mommy 'Mistress'."

"What do they call you?"  That got him, I received no response for
nearly twenty minutes.  "They don't know I exist."  Thats interesting,
then who the hell was he?

Another photo, my daughter sucking my wife's toes, both naked in our
living room.  I saved it with the others.

Supper was interesting, I sat watching my family looking for signs,
anything, that resembled or gave an indication that my wife and
daughter were having an affair.  Nothing!

In fact, that supper time Liz started to whine about going over to her
friends house after supper.  The two argued until Helen gave in but I
caught a glint in her eye as Liz, finished with her meal, happily ran
up to her room to call her friend to plan the meeting.

If Ismail had never sent me a photo, I would never have thought twice
about that look.  But I did now.  Was my wife planing on extracting
her revenge later?  Perhaps to spank her own daughter again?  Much to
my amazement my cock hardened within my slacks.


 -*-


Ismail was getting more chatty, "There are four of them, your wife,
her friend and their two daughters."

Another photo came seconds after this message, four completely naked
ladies.  My wife and daughter with two others, one the voluptuous girl
from previous photos.  They had broken up into twos, by age and were
upon the floor inverted licking the others sex.

Of the photos this was the worst of the bunch, bad lighting, the
bodies over to the side of the photo and whom was who hard to make
out.  All the others had been clean, crisp and detailed with perfect
lighting and images.  Then I saw the cord going from the bottom of
photo, over some discarded clothing to the unknown older woman's hand.
I knew enough about photography to know this was the remote switch on
the camera.

It told me something, that there were only the four of them.  My wife
Helen, my daughter Liz, the pudgy girl and another older woman, also
rather round.  I could also deduce that this new person, the heavy-set
older woman took most of the photos while the others participated.

That evening, while Helen cooked our supper, I hastily searched
through her drawers for more clues and proof to this heresy.  I found
none.  Not even a pair of stockings, in fact no lingerie at all.  But
of course, she had never worn these things with me, in our marriage
bed.  It, evidently, had been something she saved for her incestuous
lesbian affair.

Sunday I awoke with my wife's hand fondling my hard cock, it was the
one time of the week we had always been able to get enough privacy to
enjoy the benefits of married life.  This time when I awoke enough to
realize who it was and the images I had been tortured to view these
last few days, I pulled away mumbling something about "feel sick".  I
avoided her until it was impossible for us to continue what she had
started.


 -*-


About that same time each work day that I received the anonymous
email, I sent my own first.  "What are their names?"

Several minutes later Ismail responded, "Melony and her daughter
Jeannie."

"Who is in charge?"  I thought this question relevant, as he said my
daughter called Helen 'Mistress'.

"Helen and Melony."  The daughters must be toys to the two older
ladies desires.  Nice toys I thought as an afterthought.

Another photo.  Helen, still dressed but her skirt hiked up over her
waist revealing her tan stockings and panties pushed to her knees.
Behind her my daughter, still wearing jeans and blouse, her normal
school clothing, knelt behind.  Liz pulled her mom's ass wide apart
and had her tongue half submerged into the round wrinkled anus.

My wife never let me near her asshole, telling me that it never turned
her on.

I broke with protocol and asked, "Do you have more of my wife' getting
her ass filled?"

No answer.  I went home frustrated and stunned.


 -*-

The next day I received a picture that answered my last request
perfectly.  My daughter lay upon my bed, wearing a leather belt with
that familiar fake cock sticking straight up.  Kneeling upon the bed
and between my daughters knees was Jeannie, with a double headed dildo
in her own cunt.  Between the two was my naked wife, both her asshole
and vagina filled with fake cock.  The look on her face was of sheer
bliss.  My daughter had a mouthful of her mom's nipple and was holding
her mothers ass cheeks wide apart to allow the other teenager easier
access.  The picture was graphic, in that I could easily see the
insertion, and very very kinky.

I had not even thought about such a thing before.
 
This time a message appeared after I received the photo.  "You like?"

"Yes."  I answered immediately.  It was exactly what I wanted, enough
though I had no idea at the time.

I asked, "How long has Helen and Liz been lovers?"

It took a while for a reply, "They are not lovers and I do not know."

That told me something, it probably was not one of the ladies within
the picture.  I had started to think it was Melony or maybe Jeannie
and not some guy after all.

But something bothered me, "Not lovers?"

Several minutes later, finally, a reply, "Liz is her mothers slave?"

I couldn't let that go, of course they were lovers, just look at the
photos.  "What do you mean?"

Nothing.

I returned to my home hours late, my schedule had been getting longer
lately.  At least since Ismail has been sending me the photos.  They
were not lovers, that did not make sense to me.  Liz was her mom's
slave, to me that meant in their incestuous lesbian games they played
a dominant and submissive role.

Helen came into the study and brought me a plate of food, re heated.
"Hi babe."  She set the plate down before me and sat at the edge of my
desk.  I couldn't ignore her any longer and looked up into her eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?"  She had her arms folded over her chest,
and looked rather somber when she asked that question.

All I could think of was the look in her eyes compared to the picture
of her getting both ends filled and her eyes staring into my soul
though the camera and my monitor.

Since I didn't answer her question she continued, "Are you having an
affair."

I couldn't help it and started to chuckle.  Helen looked so serious,
so aggressive in her manner that I thought it amusing that she would
be asking me that!

My response warmed her demeanour and she started to smile.  She
shrugged and continued, "You have been a bit strange these last few
days, I just thought...!"

"I'm not having an affair Helen, on my soul."  I wanted to ask the
question of her, wanted her to confess to me her sins.  Yet I knew I
would only get lies.  My wife had to be good at lying to hide her
incestuous affair from me for all this time.  What could I say,
"Darling are you fucking our daughter?"  Hardly.  Instead I kept
silent and didn't pull away when she reached for my hand.

She rubbed it for several seconds before saying in a tiny voice, "Come
to bed darling?"  Helen was offering me herself if only I came to bed.
"The kids are in bed already..."

I pulled her hand downwards and she came towards me, kneeling before
me.  I reached out and brought my wife's lips to my own.  As I kissed
her passionately, I knew where these lips had been and found a new
strength between my legs at the knowledge.

Helen became impassioned at our hot kiss, groaning into my mouth.  I
put a hand on the back of her head and began to push her face
downwards.  "Honey... the kids!"  I didn't say a word and she never
said another.  My wife rarely did this for me in all our years of
marriage, yet never offered to tell me why.  For the first time in our
marriage, I just didn't care what she wanted.

Her hands quickly released my hard cock and I felt her warm hot mouth
engulfed me.  Helen, the mother of my kids began to move her head up
and down sucking my cock with love and duty, if not passion.  All the
while she did her duty, I remembered those photos and her betrayal.  I
hated her, hated what she was doing behind my back.  I wanted to
punish her, to fuck her how she didn't like it.  To force her over my
knee and make her cry with shame and from the pain of my blows.  I
wanted to have our daughter watch as I humiliated Helen.

My orgasm filled my wife's' mouth until it overflowed and she
swallowed loudly.


 -*-


The photo shocked me, surprisingly after all the others.  It showed
Ismail's point.  Liz, my darling daughter, was much younger in this
photo, her breasts just starting to develop, her hair short and her
hips and ass like a young thin boys.  Twelve or thirteen I would
guess.

Liz had her arms tied behind her back at the elbow and wrist.  She was
kneeling in a awkward position upon the floor.  Fully naked.

My wife stood above her, in a stylish suit from that period, hands on
hips looking sternly down into our daughter's face in our kitchen.
Like a mother looks at a naughtier child.

My daughter was obviously in distress, fear and humiliation written
upon her face.  A stream of pee shooting from between her legs to
puddle about her knees.  Welts upon her buttocks and upper back.  She
had thick tears upon her cheeks and her eyes were red from crying.  It
wasn't a faked scene, it was surreal.

Liz was not a willing participant in this photo.

The next message seemed to twist the image in my soul.  Ismail wrote,
"The photos from this period I call the 'Learning Years'."  Evidently
there were more of the same.

In a strange way I was relieved, Liz had been a unwilling participant
in a affair with Helen.  I understood what Ismail had wrote, that they
had not been lovers but Helen had taught her daughter to submit to her
illegal and immoral desires.  It revealed something about the woman I
call my wife that I never knew before, had never even seen a sparkle
of.

"What do you want Ismail?"  Nothing.


 -*-


The next day I only received one message without a subject line, with
the expected photo.  My wife, naked, kneeling upon her bed.  Between
her thighs, mouth open, tongue pointed upwards into the wet widely
spread grotto was my daughter's face.  Liz was bound to the four
corners of the bed, a fake cock between her legs and inside her
vagina, her body still bore the new emergence of puberty.  My wife's
face was of bliss while my daughter bore a disgusted look.

More of what Ismail called, the "Learning Years".

Beneath the photo Ismail asked, "I want Helen."  He had finally
answered my question.

He wanted my wife?  How?  What did he mean?  "In what way?"  Nothing

Bastard was pissing me off.  Though, without his intervention, I would
not have learned of my wife's infidelity and my daughters forced
submission.

Thought he wanted Helen, another man's wife.  A woman that had forced
her own daughter, had taught her own daughter, to have sex with and
for her.  What kind of man wanted that type of woman?  Did he want her
for sex?  Obviously, especially after seeing these candid and graphic
photos.

I considered my options, and entertained the thought of the police.
That Helen had forced Liz into their strange relationship.  Yet, I
should get more info, find out where the photos were and who Ismail
was.

How could I give away my wife?  She wasn't my possession, I didn't own
her.  As she owned Liz, I recalled somberly.


 -*-


The woman I called my wife had pleasured herself upon me but my drive
was not to be stilled so easily.  I had pushed her off my still hard
cock and pushed her up onto her knees.  I fucked her from behind with
a passion that had been lacking in our marriage for years.  Even after
her orgasm she had to bite into a pillow to stifle her screams of
enjoyment.

She didn't know that each slap of our sweaty flesh angered me and
brought to life the images Ismail had sent.  He wanted this fucking
slut that forced her own daughter to a kinky sex life, unwillingly.
Why should I want such a woman?  Why not give her to Ismail?

Come on over and take the bitch Ismail!

Just as my orgasm began I did something I had never done before, my
wife didn't like it.  I plunged my thumb roughly into the pouting
sweaty rectum staring up at me.  It sunk to the second knuckle just as
I let go of my load.  It was too late for her to stop me but she tried
by reaching behind her with one hand, I simply grabbed it and held it
firmly as each spasm emptied my balls.  Helen screamed in both pain
and pleasure that even the pillows could not hide.

An hour later, Helen still not talking to me, angry at my action
earlier, served our Sunday family breakfast.  I sat silently and smug
at my performance earlier, watching my wife and remembering those
graphic photos.  How can I feel sympathy towards a woman who forced
her own daughter into such a selfish relationship.

It was a conversation that brought me out of my cloud, Liz asked, "Can
I use the computer this afternoon Trev?  I have to type out some
fliers for school."

My thirteen year-old son spared, "Keener!  I'm busy."

Helen asked, "Still doing that report darling?"

"Yea mom, has to be handed in Monday by ten."  He forked in a huge
spoonful of scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon.  A growing teens
appetite.

Helen concluded the disagreement, "Liz, Trevor has to finish..."

"Mom!"  Whined Liz.

"...his report on Moby Dick.  You can go over to Jill's to.."

It hit me right then, "Moby Dick" and "'They call me Ismail.'"
Slowly, as if in slow motion I turned towards my son and looked into
his face.  At the same time he looked up into mine.

I knew.  We knew.


 -*-


How could I start such a conversation with my son, "You want your
mother Trev?"  Hardly.  There was no chance to approach him on Sunday
but sat before my computer at the designated time on Monday.  It made
sense, his sending his messages at this time -- it was during his
spare period.  And with several well stocked computer labs at school,
it would be easy for a young hacker like Trevor to send me attached
email's.

As for the photos, which I still hadn't figured out where he got them,
he probably just scanned them at home, on the computer I bought for
the kids to work on.

It all made sense except for the line, "I want Helen."

The first message, "Do you want more pictures?"

"Where did you get them Trevor?"

"She has been molesting Liz for years dad."  I wondered, at that
moment, why it hadn't been Trevor's older brother that wanted his
mother in this way and that it had been our youngest child.  The quiet
smart child, Trevor surprised me thoroughly.

"How long have you known?"

"For almost a year."  It startled me, that I was the last to know in
my own house.  "Mom doesn't know that I know."  That answered my next
question.

I had no idea what to type.  What does a father say when his own young
son revealed his wife's infidelity to him?  Thank you?  Hardly.

"Are you going to divorce mom?"  I hadn't thought of that but it
seemed like the obvious solution to my households lies and deceit.
Isn't that what families do when one of a couple cheats on the other?
Yet is that that same outcome with that one person cheats with a child
of the couple?  And what was the solution when one of the children
wanted one of the parents?

And what of Liz through all this?

It was difficult having a conversation like this, via email.  I had to
know something, "How many pictures do you have Trev?"

"Hundreds maybe thousands.  I don't really know."  That surprised me,
the sheer magnitude of my wife's involvement with her sexual deviance.
"Its crazy dad, there are even old pictures of mom and grandma in
there."

Old pictures, "How old?"

"I think mom is about Liz's age.  Grandma seemed much meaner too."  I
was learning many things a man didn't want to know about his wife.
But of course with Liz involved, I must know.  I had to protect my
child.  "And a few with Liz and grandma a couple years ago I think."
Obviously, Helen's mother died two years ago.

It all was starting to come together, Helen as a kid had been severely
molested by her own mom, in the years that passed she had turned that
molestation towards her own child and restarted the cycle.  It had to
stop.

It had to come out eventually, "Why do you want your mom Trevor?"

My answer was long in coming.  "I thought once you found out, about
her and stuff, that you would not want her any more."

"So you want to take care of her?"  I asked amused, I hardly thought
this was the answer.

"Kinda.  I want her like she wants Liz."  That shocked me.  I had
assumed he lusted after his own mother, as he was of that age when
Helen was the female adult role model in his life but I had never
considered he wanted to dominate her.  "Dad?"

All things considered Helen was still a beautiful woman with a body
only a mature sexy woman could possess.  It was no wonder that Trevor
lusted after her.  Especially after seeing so much of her in all those
graphic images he possessed.

"Where did you get the pictures Trev?"

"The old chest that came from grandma's, there is a secret drawer in
the bottom."  That kid continues to surprise me!

What did I want out of this, how did I want to resolve it?  Was there
a resolution?

"Trevor, skip out on school today and come to my office.  We have some
things to chat about."


 -*-


I sent Trevor's older brother away for the weekend, to his uncles to
go fishing.  I had to get the boy away from this den of lust and
deceit.  I also ensured Liz was going to be home as well as Helen.
Trevor and I had plans for the two.

After going through all the photos and chatting with my youngest son,
I was even more shocked at the depth of depravity that my wife sunk
to.  Helen had used our daughter as a toilet, had beat her black and
blue in places that wouldn't show, had intruded in her every hole,
many more unthinkable and unimaginable things.  It was incredible,
that I could live with this woman and never suspect after all these
years.

Saturday morning Helen awoke in her own bed, her ankles and wrists
bound and her mouth gagged.  I smiled into her surprised eyes.
"Morning Helen."  I poured several dozen random pictures upon the bed
and with but a glance she started to grunt and mumble into her taped
mouth.

I turned and walked down the hallway to my daughter's room.  Walking
in without knocking I found Liz in much the same way with her brother
standing smugly above her.  "Morning dear.  Trev go keep an eye on
your mom but don't touch!"  He nodded and practically ran out of the
room.

Sitting down next to my daughter I gently withdrew the gag.  "Morning
honey."

"Daddy... what?"

I hushed her with a finger to her lips.

"I know all about your mother and you."  That stilled her protests and
she looked up in fear at me.  Perhaps she was scared of what her mom
will do to her when they are discovered, or perhaps she was scared of
being humiliated before her friends and family.  Either way, it really
didn't matter - she had been a submissive for nearly all her teenage
years she would automatically submit to me I was sure.

"Its over Liz."

I thought I'd see a big happy smile of joy but instead I saw a tear
appear in the corner of her eye.  It surprised me.

"You never have to answer to your mom ever again dear."  I brushed a
loose strand of blond hair from her eyes and smiled down into her
face.

The tear rolled down her cheek before the other eye started to well
up.  "Are you going to get rid of me daddy?"

"Pardon?"

"Mom said that I wasn't good enough for you.  That since I was her
daughter she had no choice but to..."

I bent down and kissed her brow to silence her, "Listen honey, what
mommy has said and done these last couple of years no longer matters.
Things are changing in this house as of today."

She looked incredible up into my eyes, hope appearing in her gaze.
"No more spanking parties?"

I'm not even sure what these were, "No honey, no more listening to
your mom order you around."

"Then you do want me?"  Hope appeared fully into her eyes with a
sparkle.

I'm not sure how she meant it but I answered truthfully regardless,
"Yes."

Liz smiled and the tears started to flow generously.  I bent over to
kiss her cheek and my darling daughter turned her head so our lips
came into contact.  Her full moist lips suckled my own and I looked at
her closed eyes in astonishment.  A tiny pointed tongue slipped past
my lips and began to spare with my own.  Now I understood what she
meant by 'wanting her'.

I pulled away and she pulled at her bindings to bring her face back to
my own.  Liz only reached my arm and began to kiss that.

My god what a bastard I am.

My molested and abused daughter is finally saved from her mother and
she accosts me with a grace that was a primary reason for her
submission.  The other thing was, watching her closed eyes and pretty
face, kissing small delicate touches upon my arm caused a reaction
that should never have happened.

To get excited at a picture was one thing, enough to make me feel
guilty about, but to watch my own daughter submit herself to me and
feel what I now feel should disgust me.  It didn't.

I gently laid my hand upon the back of her dishevelled head and
stroked her hair.  Slowly she pulled away from my arm and looked up
into my face, her look one of sheer happiness.

Quickly I pulled her binding off of her, they had been so she would
not react negatively when told that her mother no longer ruled her
life.  Liz just watched me, surprised that I was untying her binds.

Like a little girl, Liz posed for me upon her bed. Unbound she sat
upon her heels with back arched, chest pushed out and chin nearly to
her chest.  She looked at me through her long eyelids and smiled
gently.

This was my little girl, the one her mother had trained for several
years to submit to a strong person, to do anything desired of her.

Evidently she had learned well.

I got up and headed for the door, "Don't leave this room, no matter
what you hear.  Okay Liz?"

"Yes master."  The door shut.

I leaned against he wall and took a deep breath to attempt to slow my
heart.  The insistent throbbing in my pants was another matter.

Going down the hall I could hear Trev talking, obviously to his bound
and gagged mother.  "... pink nighty for me mom, with the white
stockings."

My son was sitting on the window sill looking down at his bound
mother, at least he had followed my instructions and not touched.
Trevor looked embarrassed when I came in.

Helen saw me and started to mumble into her gag.  "Hush up Helen."  I
quickly checked that her bindings were still well knotted.  "Your son
wants to treat you like you have treated Liz all these years."

My wife looked suddenly scared and looked upon her beaming son, he
looked positively lecherous staring at his own mother that way.  She
suddenly shivered and turned back to look with pleading eyes at me.

"If it wasn't for Trev, I may never have known that you were molesting
our own daughter.  I've seen some of the things you did with her
Helen, its... !"  What could I say, disgusting, perverted, immoral?
Yes it was all that but my own desires were now tending towards the
same.

"He told me he wanted to hurt you, make your scream in pain.  Our son
even admitted that he wanted to have you beg for him, to use you as
you used our daughter.  Listening to him, I think he's a very
imaginative boy we have Helen."  I could hear my own voice and it
sounded surprisingly calm.

I moved to the foot of the bed and motioned to Trev, "Get her clothes
off Trev."  My son beamed at me and practically jumped towards his
parents marriage bed.

Helen tried to scream and he tugged and tore her nightgown and panties
off, none too gently mind you.  Eventually, with but a few quick feels
of his hand, his mother lay bound and naked before our eyes.

"Do you think Trevor deserves to be rewarded honey?  He did let me
know about your little affair with Melony and your two daughters.  How
you liked to force her to enjoy things that a daughter should never
enjoy with her mother."

My son bent over and pinched one of her wide nipples between his thumb
and forefinger, I watched in fascination, as if this was not my wife
being molested before me.  Helen screamed into her gag.

"Then there is Liz - what are we going to do with her?"  Trev stopped
his abuse and looked up surprised at me, this was contrary to our
plans.  "I can't just let her go can I?  She would simply latch upon
the first person that wanted to dominate and control her."

Both my son and wife looked at me with wide unreadable eyes.

"But I could hardly leave her with you could I?"  No reaction.  "So I
will have to take the burden of our own daughter upon myself.  She
must be protected by the only other parent that truly loves her."  Me
of course!  Not until I said it did I ever come to this decision, it
sort of just came out from some dark spot within me.

In a strange way, I envied my wife and her role over our daughter.

Trevor turned back to his mom and forced a hand between her thighs
while his face lowered to bite into a nipple.  She again screamed.

"What am I going to do Helen?"  I truly had no idea.  "I'm sure Trev
would love to take care of you don't you think?"  At that moment
Trevor pulled his hand from between her thighs and brought a finger up
to this nose to sniff.  I, of course, knew exactly where it had been,
her vagina.

"He practically begged to give you to him."  He had actually.

"I also thought about divorcing you, you would not contest it with
just a few of the photos I have in my possession.  Want to know
something Helen, in some strange and weird way, I still love you!"  I
did.  "Even after what you did to me, to our daughter."

She screamed yet again and her son was now fondling between the cheeks
of her ass, his finger again travelling to unknown depths.  Trev again
pulled it out and sniffed at it.

"So things are going to have to change around here don't you think?"
I never expected an answer, but my son looked up at me expectantly.
We have not made an agreement or even a decision when he came to my
office, only that I listened to his evidence and his desires.  It
startled me the depth of his own depravity for his mother.

It came down to this moment, how the rest of our lives would be
determined.

Helen also looked towards me, her pleading eyes gone now she simply
waited as her son did.

"You are still my wife Helen," Helen actually sighed thankfully behind
her gag, "but you are the lowest of our house.  You will do anything I
want at any time I want it.  Nothing you want matters any longer."
Tears began in her eyes.  "Our son will be sent to boarding school", I
didn't mean Trev but his older brother, "so you can't pervert him
also.  Maybe there is a chance for him at least!"

"Liz will share my bed with me, she will be mine only!"  I gave Trevor
a glare that could not be mistaken for anything but a threat, she was
mine and he was to keep his hands off her.  My cock actually jerked at
the thought of her waiting in her room for me.

"Trevor is allowed to use you whenever I have no use for you, he can
do anything that does not permanently mark you."  With that my
youngest child started to pull his clothing from his body, as if he
was about to mount his mother right here and now.  It was almost
comical, but I was probably the only one that thought so.

"In this house Helen, you are the lowest slave."  I didn't say that
Liz would continue to be a slave, my slave.  I didn't think I needed
to say the obvious.  "You are not even allowed any sexual contact,
nothing that pleasures you if its not done by one of your own family."

Trev's four inch pole was thrust proudly before him, his mothers eyes
watching as he lowered it to her face.  My son rubbed his cock about
his mothers cheeks and forehead, a look of pleasure upon his brow.

"Melony," Trev told me his mothers friend was unmarried and did not
even allow her daughter to attend school, "and her slave daughter
Jeannie will be brought over and punished for what they did to Liz.
You will help right Helen?"  I couldn't help but add, "Like how you
helped your mom molest her granddaughter?"  That did it, my wife
looked from the tiny hard cock smacking her in her face back to me, a
looks of resignation in them.

"Trevor will help."  He smiled hugely at me, and I remembered him
telling me how much he would like to fuck the 'fat pig that takes the
pictures'.  "Liz will get Jeannie, if she wants her, as her own toy."

My son was now rubbing the head of his dick over my wife's nipples,
leaving a trail of pre-come wherever it travelled.  She simply ignored
him, watching me.

"Things are going to change around here Helen, don't you agree?"  That
was it, this was the final question, asked softly, if she would live
this new life I placed before her.  One that I'm sure she was used to,
when she was Liz's age.

My wife looked in my eyes and nodded.  We shared a brief look that
seemed to me the woman I loved and married yet I knew it was only a
facade, like the one I had lived with all these years.

I had my answer!

"Untie her Trevor."  He looked up at me in surprise, hesitant.  "My
slave won't resist."

Helen didn't, she just lay there as her youngest son hesitantly
unbound her.  Did he think he would rape her while she was tied up?
That he would keep her tied up for years?

Finally he stood back, off the bed and watched her sheepishly.

My wife of many years, slowly sat up, rubbing her wrists and ankles to
get the blood flowing back into them.  I simply sat, waiting and
watching.

Finally she slowly got off the bed, our marriage bed, and came before
me and knelt.  Helen pressed her forehead onto the floor, just an inch
before my foot, her ass in the air towards our hungry-eyed son.

"Master how may I serve you?"  It was voice that I had never once
heard in my wife.  It was surreal, submissive, a little scared girl
that wanted to please and pleasure her master.

It was the true 'Helen'!

Is there anything more strengthening to ones soul than to hear those
words spoken, she was mine to command.  We all knew it.  My love for
her was now as perverted as hers had been for Liz.

I grunted at Trevor, "Make sure she gets lunch on the table on time."
He nodded dumbly, excited.  His cock dripping with expectant pleasure
for his own mother.  She had not been given to him, as he wanted, nor
was she his slave, but he ultimately gets what he wants regardless.

Turning, I made for the door.  "After lunch slave, move all your
things out of my room and help Liz get hers in here."  I closed the
door behind me.

That was when I allowed my body to shiver in barely contained
excitement and I listened to my youngest son order his mother, "Don't
move mom!"  Then the sharp sounds of a hand hitting bare skin and
Helen crying out.

Those lasted only a few moments before there was movement and then a
steady sloppy slapping of skin upon skin.  My son had just lost his
virginity with his own mothers body.  I doubt he even yet allowed her
to move.

Again I returned to Liz's room.

My darling daughter knelt as her mother was kneeling when I left her,
upon the floor a the foot of the bed.  She wore white stockings a
white push-up bra and white garter belt.  In her hand, before her
prostate body was a silk white scarf.  It was my little girl, my
slave.  Already trained by her own mother.

I entered and closed the door behind me.


--

