The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in

which it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work.

Reposting or any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of

the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a review or posted to free-access,

noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please! Give me your comments.

This is a repost of a fifty-two chapter mind control, multi person romance.

 

MY INHERITANCE

Chapter 23

Proper Lady

Mary shook me, awakening me. She said I had only been out about three minutes. Mary

had cleaned up Cathy, wiping her with a damp cloth. As she instructed, I carried Cathy

into the small third bedroom and put her to bed. Mary covered her over and closed the

door as we left. When we returned to my bedroom, Andy was changing the sheets. It

was impossible to say if Cathy had lost more water by sweating or pissing. Whichever,

the sheets and bedding were soaked. I sat on the small stool at the kittens' dressing

table as Mary swabbed my wounds with alcohol to cleanse them. I could see the teeth

marks Cathy left on the thick muscle by my collarbone. Each tooth had cut the skin.

Already, it was angry, blue and sore as hell.

"Ouch."

"Quit being a baby. Of course, it is going to sting some. I wonder if you need stitches."

"Oh, great. How would I explain that to the doctor? 'Doctor, I was fucking my sister and I

was so good she bit me hard enough to need stitches.' Think of something else."

Mary stopped working on me, standing back to look in my face. She looked very worried.

"Davy, something is wrong with Cathy. She is out of control. That was not normal

intercourse. I watched her tonight and I watched you. She needs your help."

"She is just intense."

"No, Davy. I am intense. Cathy was frantic."

I had thought the same thing. I wondered if Uncle Bert had programmed her to be this

way, or, if there was a conflict between Cathy's nature and the programming. I wondered

if Dad knew and that was the reason he and Uncle Bert fought over Cathy. I hated to

think Uncle Bert had done something like this to my sister intentionally. Had the devil

dog bit him? Was that the reason he was putting me through so much before I got the

formula?

"Are you all right?"

I looked up to see Abby and Betty standing at the door. They were naked, standing shyly

but uncovered. Two peas in a pod. Identical twins. They looked frightened but then they

could see my wounded back and neck better than I.

"Cathy got carried away."

"We heard her scream. Is everything okay?"

"It will be in the morning. How was Dad?"

They giggled. "Go ahead. Tell him," Betty snickered.

"Well, with the altitude change, the alcohol and trip exhaustion. Dad took Mom first.

Then, well, Dad went to sleep."

Poor Dad. He was not programmed to last forever like I was. Mom got him before the

girls and he was fucked out.

"Davy, we are . . . " Abby blushed. I grinned. "Say it!"

"We are horny. Could you, I mean, would you like to?"

"Ladies, I would love to, but I am whipped. I will have to take a rain check. Borrow Mary's

vibrator collection."

Did I just turn down fucking two beautiful and sexy young women? I must be more tired

than I realized. I barely made it to bed before I was asleep.

I was on my back when I awakened. Andy was kneeling over me, treating the wound on

my shoulder.

"Hi, sweetheart. Ready for coffee?"

"Oh, yes. What time is it?"

"Christmas Eve, about ten in the morning. I'll be right back." She kissed me lightly before

bouncing off to bring me that life giving black liquid. Soon, I was propped up in the big

bed. Mary and Andy were on each side of me.

"Cathy is still asleep. Your parents feel great and went for a walk through town. Abby

and Betty are moving slowly and walking stiffly," Mary said, bringing me up to speed.

"I heard them all night. They must have come a million times," Andy said. She was not

complaining, just reporting the events. She did not even see those events as unusual.

"How is Cathy?"

"I check her ever hour or so. She is dead to the world, but she seems all right. Come

into the kitchen. I will cook something for you."

"I will do it, Mom," Andy said, jumping up to get started.

I sipped coffee as Andy whipped up a little breakfast. Since it was close to noon, I only

had three eggs, six slices of bacon and two pieces of toast with a quart of milk to wash

them down. Andy was becoming quite a good cook. She hummed to herself as she

efficiently moved about the kitchen. I liked those movements.

Normally when we were at home, Andy wore what I keep calling ski skins. That is a trade

name for a form fitting, two-ply garment which provides excellent insulation and can be

worn under heavier clothes for insulation or as outerwear. "Form fitting" was the key

phrase in that sentence. I have commented on her body before, but a body like that

cannot have too many comments in my view.

Some women are soft, some overly muscular, particularly the natives in the mountains

where skiing and hiking are dominant pastimes. Andy was a perfect combination, with a

softness where she should have it and muscles where they should be. The muscles

moved under the tight ski skin as she worked, providing a delightful picture for me.

She put the food in front of me and sat by me, hand on my leg, looking at me with total

love. I do not know what I did to be so lucky, but I would do it again in a minute. We

talked about little things, as two lovers would, as I wolfed down my meal, eating in less

time than it took to prepare it. I watched her again as she cleaned up the kitchen.

"I want the hot tub. My muscles are sore," I said.

"Come on, sweetheart. I will join you."

Uncle Bert's houses had several commonalities. Each had a well-equipped kitchen

complete with freezer. They had huge master bedrooms with giant beds, a multi person

shower in the bath and video equipment so you could watch from (or film in) bed. They

had big living rooms with giant fireplaces. The fireplaces had sheepskins rugs and mink

comforters in front of them. They had big hot tubs with gas powered, high intensity

heaters.

I stripped and jumped in the hot tub. Andy was right behind me. She sat behind me at

first, massaging my neck and back, being careful not to rub those places injured by

Cathy. I had seen my back in a mirror. I was covered with cuts and bruises as if I had

been in a car wreck. I leaned back against her as she wrapped her arms over my

shoulders, kissing me a hundred times, interspersing the kisses with sweet murmurings

on my ear. We sat like that for a while. When we had enough of the heat and pulsating

water, she kissed me softly on the cheek and walked up the two steps.

I was standing in the water and she was toweling off on the side when I said it. I did not

plan to say it. It just came out.

"I love you."

I can still see her standing there. She froze with her hands under her chin, the towel

dangling to cover her suggestively. Her blue eyes were big and wide, with a surprised

look. Her mouth was open in the form of an O. Her long blonde hair was wet and clung

to her naked body. Tears formed in her eyes.

"What did you say?" She gasped it out.

"I love you."

She shrieked as if she were shot, threw the towel aside and launched herself into me,

knocking me on my back under the water. I felt her lips crush mine as her body weight

forced me under. Normally, a beautiful woman showing her love for you is a wonderful

thing.

Normally. I was drowning.

The hot tub was slick from the musk-scent oil I put in it and I could not get traction to get

my head up. I felt a hand grab me by the neck, pulling me up as the person pushed

Andy off me. It was Mary. She had come running when she heard Andy's shriek, saw

what was happening and jumped in to rescue me. I gagged and sputtered, gasping,

trying to get my breath.

"Andy, you need to listen to your mother. I told you to fuck him to death, not drown him."

"Oh, Mom, he told me he loves me." Then, she realized she had almost killed me and

was desolate with sorrow, crying as she fluttered around me. Mary patted her lovingly.

"I know he does, honey, but he cannot love you if he is dead. Now, why don't you take

him in the bedroom."

The two of them helped me out of the hot tub and dried me off, which is no bad deal.

Andy took my hand to lead me into the bedroom.

"Davy?" Mary called to me. "Have you ever said 'quiet, little lady' to her?"

"No. Why?"

"Try it." She had a funny smile on her face.

As you remember, Andy was a screamer, yelling obscenities at the top of her voice when

she was having sex. Uncle Bert had programmed her three ways: to mew and purr like a

kitten; to coo like a dove; or, to speak in lady like tones. I enjoyed her purring so much, I

rarely had her coo and never used the lady like tones. Since I had to program her each

time we fucked, I would try lady like this time.

"Would you feel better on top or would you like me to do that?" Andy asked sweetly.

"You get on top this time."

Andy was always passionate, her desire for me strong, but she never rushed unless she

knew that is what I wanted. She touched and tantalized every inch of me with every inch

of her, particularly her fingertips, nipples and hairless pussy. I was hard and ready when

she finally eased me into her hot wetness. I put my hands on her waist, resting the palms

on her hips.

"Quiet, little lady," I whispered.

She smiled down at me, then spoke in round, perfect tones in a voice identical to Helena

Bonham Carter.

"Oh, David, I find your penis in me to be so stimulating."

"What did you say?" I could not believe my ears.

"Your penis is stimulating, David. Is there something wrong with that?"

"When did you start to talk like that?" Our motion had stopped. I was too surprised to

fuck.

"Talk like what, David? All proper English ladies speak this way. Is that not what you

wished? To have intercourse with a proper lady. I must say, David, would you kindly

determine what it is you wish to do."

"Yes. Fuck a lady sounds great."

"Ladies never use that word, David. I do wish you would speak more properly when we

make love. Should I carry on, then?"

"Carry on. Please."

"Of course. I would be delighted."

She started to move again on my cock. I heard a giggle in the doorway. Mary was

strangling a laugh.

To be continued . . .

Please! Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com
E. Z. Riter
Chapter 24