The Storyteller (26 page)

“I’ve spent almost a decade living the life of a sex addict and loved it all. This creature, whatever he truly is, has shown me things I never would have experienced elsewhere. He’s been my teacher, my love, my disciplinarian, and my inspiration. My life has been one long orgasm, and what is so wrong with that?”

“Then why betray him?” Pastor Crabwater asked.

“What?”

Pastor Crabwater had taken on an unbecoming glare.

“The servants of Olivier are everywhere and not just in the big cities. You find them in Tomah, Wisconsin. You find them in Soap Lake, Washington. You find them here in Strasburg, Ohio.”

“What?” Carrie gasped.

“You find them everywhere. You find them in a small local diner in the form of a waitress serving coffee.”

Carrie’s mind flashed back to the waitress in the Hot Cup Cafeteria.

“Her?”

The pastor nodded and went on.

“You find them as some fat old local yokels with suspenders and a belt. How can you trust a man who can’t trust his own pants to stay up on him?”

“Him?”

The pastor again nodded.

“You find them everywhere.”

The minister’s face seemed to glow with a strange new light.

“You even find them in a cathedral or church. Where better for a follower of demons to hide out than within a church? After all, the devil has a far bigger following than anyone, and where better to hide and corrupt than in plain view of all?”

“Who are you?” Carrie gasped, starting to rise. She overturned her chair as she did.

“A servant,” Pastor Crabwater corrected. “Just a servant like you, though I made a different deal with Olivier. He’s going to know you betrayed him, my dear. He’s going to be angry, and I’m afraid this time you’ll require correction that goes beyond a spanking.”

“Dick yourself!” Carrie shouted, now grasping at lost hope beyond all hope. “I see the truth now! There never was an Olivier! I made this all up! I’m nuts in the head! I created Olivier and made up everything!”

“No, you didn’t,” the minister said softly, not moving from behind his desk. “If this is the end of our session, at least pick up the chair you knocked over on the way out.”

“Fuck you, Crabwater!” Carrie shouted as she turned to run.

“Traitor,” came the voice from behind. “Traitor. Aren’t you going to stay and see what the solution is?”

Carrie darted toward her car and hurled herself inside, bumbling to place her keys in the ignition. As the engine roared, she sped away from the church as fast as she could, not knowing where she would go next, or if there was anywhere to go at all.

“I’m disappointed,” came the distinct voice of Olivier from the back seat. “You let me down.”

“Forgive me, my lover,” she started to babble, though her foot was still heavy on the pedal. “Forgive me. Forgive me. I forgot how much I love you in the past day. Forgive me.”

“Oh, I suppose I could do that,” came the answer.

What she could make out of Olivier in the mirror’s reflection was an expression of contemplation and not rage.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“It’s going to cost you though.”

Carrie zapped in her breath, partially from relief and partially from anticipation.

“It’s going to cost you a good spanking with your pants off, and I mean a good one!”

Chapter Ten

Stanlisus Pool Services

Young Van walked away, wearing the black female scarf around his neck. He was not dressing in drag or doing a little transvestite thing. There was a reason he was wearing that scarf. He’d found it wrapped ominously on a tree limb next to his car at the dorm just a week before. He was long back from the funeral now and was riddled with shame. That was before he returned to his senses.

Wearing the scarf, he had intended to sneak his way onto the roof of one of the campus buildings and leap to his death, but now that wasn’t such a great idea.

As he walked away, his mind drifted backward in time, to the beginning of the situation that had caused all of his troubles.

Van was a nickname. He was nineteen and his so-called sister, Emily, was eighteen when their thing started.

They were not blood brother and sister. That had to be understood from the start. Had they been so, this whole mess never would have happened. His mother and her father had both remarried, bringing one kid each into the relationship, and though they had grown up together, they were not true siblings. That had to be driven home.

Their respective parents had one of those above ground metal pools put in that could be used during Ohio’s summer and spring, then drained before winter. Stanlisus Pool Services. That’s the name of the place. He remembered because his stepfather was a chain smoker and had taken the Help Yourself sign by a box full of matches way too literally. After signing the deal for installation, he’d walked out with the whole box.

It was still spring and school had just ended for everyone. Thus, he and Emily were alone in the house for most of the days. She had done something to aggravate him. He couldn’t recall what, but it had been something – petty post-teen garbage. Anyway, he figured he’d show her.

She made a pretense of putting on her bikini to go for a swim but was taking an awful long time in her bedroom. She’d also forgotten to lock the door, and when he heard her muffled grunts from within, he knew what was going on. He went to his own room and got something he’d been saving for just such an occasion.

“Smile!”

Just as he had suspected, he caught his stepsister on the bed, wearing her bikini top, but without any bottom. Her fingers were buried deep within her blonde crotch, and she was fingering her slit to a lip-biting climax as she rested on her back over the sheets.

The camera flashed and Emily shrieked, rising to follow as he headed into his own room. He, at least, had the common sense to lock the door.

“Open this door, you fucking creep!” she shouted as she pounded against the wood. “Open this door, Van! Give me that fucking camera! This isn’t funny, you fucker!”

He waited until the pounding subsided and he could hear only her frenzied breathing from beyond.

“Mom and Dad are gonna love this picture. So are a lot of people!”

“No!” she screamed. “You open this door now! You have to come out sometime!”

“Sure I do!” he called out. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll find the camera.”

There was silence at the other end. Now Van had no intention of really letting the photo get developed someplace and spreading it anyway. He just wanted to piss Emily off and was about to tell her so, when he heard a timid knock again. This time there was literal fear in her voice.

“Van, please. I’ll do anything.”

He opened the door to find her there, with tears mustering in her eyes. She had at least put her bikini bottoms back on.

“I’ll let you do anything to me. I won’t tell. Just give me the camera.”

Van’s expression changed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, we aren’t really related, you know, and you already know what I do in my bedroom. Why don’t you come watch, and I’ll put on a show for you?”

The thought of this seemed warped beyond words. She was not, as she so pointedly admitted, a real sister to him, but he had only meant what he had done as a crude joke. He wanted a little vengeance and nothing else. On the other hand, deep down inside, he had studied that slender, shapely form by the pool and at times had to make the pretense of going to the bathroom. It was an attempt to hide his own erection, which was remedied on the toilet in due form.

“Give me the camera, and I’ll put on a show for you.”

Van nodded. Of course, he imagined his sister pulling a reverse scam on him, by grabbing the camera, calling him a fool and locking herself beyond her own door as well, but such was not the case. She took the contraption with one hand, and with the other, she led him to her bedroom.

“Now where was I before you interrupted me?” she questioned in mock seriousness. “Oh yes. I said I was changing into my bikini to go for a swim.”

Van nodded.

“Now we’re going to have a secret between us that neither of us can talk about. We’ll each have something over the other.”

She put the camera in the dresser drawer and wiped the tears from her eyes. She no longer had anything to cry about.

“Sit on that chair and watch.”

As Van did so, Emily removed her bikini top to reveal her tits for him. They were already standing out white amid the tan from earlier episodes at the new pool. The nipples perked into life as well, pointing accusingly at him.

Van gave a slight gasp as within his pants, he felt himself stiffening.

Without another word, Emily peeled off her bikini bottom and stood bare before him. Her young and hairy bush stood out invitingly amid the white where her swimsuit had been.

Van again groaned. He grasped the arms of the chair firmly with his hands as he sucked in his breath, studying Emily’s nakedness.

As she turned, he examined her thighs from the side and at last, her unclothed white ass. Next, she climbed onto the bed. Kneeling, so her butt faced him, she was giving him a shot of her open snatch, and that brought a third moan from him.

Turning, she went to her back and started to fondle her breasts. Further down, her legs were spread wide, showing her ripe and dampening pussy.

“Uj. Uhm. Uh. Oh. Oh.”

Emily made little grunts as she toyed with her breasts, flickering and tweaking the nipples. Then she drifted downward, running her hands over her stomach and abdomen as she moved to the spot that would bring her the most pleasure.

“Oh! Oh! Oooooo!”

The noises she spurted out were not words, but wild cries of pleasure.

With her hands, she opened her pussy lips wider. Then with one fingertip, she started to massage her clit, which made her cries all the more intense.

“Iggg. Ugg. Iffff. Igg.”

The noises would have been funny in any other setting.

“Oh. Igg, Iggg, Ufgie. Iggie.”

Now Emily had inserted a finger deep into her pink hole, moving it back and forth.

“Ih. Igg. Ihhhhoooee. Oooooo. Iffff. Ihhhh.”

Van could take no more. Rising on the chair, he pulled down his pants and underwear so he was also exposed. His erection was gigantic.

“Ogggggggg.” Emily continued as she slid the finger in and out. “Ogggggggg.”

Soon her cries were mixed with Van’s.

“Uhm. Ih. Uh. Uh. Uh.”

They were now calling each other’s names and adding to the bizarre scene.

“Van. Van. Van.”

“Emily. Oh, Emily. Yes. Emily. Make me shoot. Make me shoot.”

Every possible gesture Emily could have executed with her fingers in her snatch took place, as she inserted two of them. Rapidly, she twirled the appendages within. She probed herself. She rubbed her clitoris, which was standing at attention like a tiny solider. She moved her hips from side to side and back and forth, like taking a hard cock. She stuttered, panted, and continued to make the peculiar animal noises that were such a turn on to her stepbrother.

“Iggy. Gig. Iggg.”

Suddenly, Emily’s entire body tensed. She was stiff as a board on the bed and screaming. Her motions paused as she became the first of the two to climax.

“Ihhhh! Oooooooooo! God!”

Van held back his own climax as he watched his stepsister writhing on the bed, but he did not have to watch for long. Charging like a mad rhino, she tore herself up off the mattress while still groaning and moaning in pleasure. At that point she fell on her knees before him.

Van didn’t have time to issue a command, for her tongue licked all the way up his shaft.

Knocking his hand away, she took the throbbing thing and licked around the head, then just touched the pee hole with the tip of her tongue.

“Emillluuuuuuueeeeeeee...” he screamed. “Oh, suck it! Suck it! Make me shoot!”

Emily was sexually experienced, but not enough to really have mastered the art of oral sex. It didn’t matter, for the minute she took what she could of the raging penis into her mouth, she felt the hot stickiness erupt from it. Her amateurish efforts were nonetheless successful.

“Oooooohhhhhhh.”

Now it was Van’s turn to cry out in pleasure, thrusting upward with his hips, but hitting empty air, Emily had removed her mouth and had fallen back on the floor, gulping at the white slush she had received.

“We cannot tell anyone about this,” Van choked out. “You’re right. We have too big a secret now. And it seems so dirty.”

Afterward they cleaned up, went for a swim and acted like nothing had happened, but the secrets were there, as was a desire neither would admit. They wanted to do it again.

The next day, when they were alone in the house once more, Van was watching television, when his sister came into the living room, dressed in another of her bikinis, a black one this time. It was obvious swimming was not on her mind.

“I’ve been really bad yesterday. I think you need to spank me.”

“What?”

This hadn’t been anything Van had expected. Emily was staring at him crazily, like a girl possessed.

“I’ve been really bad. What we did yesterday was bad. I want you to spank me. I want it to be for real, too, and I want it to hurt, so I learn a lesson.”

Before Van could protest, Emily had pulled her bikini partially down to show her pussy once more.

“Spank me. I’ve been bad.”

“You want a what?”

This uncomfortable question was all Van could ask before being interrupted as Emily threw herself across his lap on the sofa, stretching out to receive the discipline she claimed she deserved.

The gesture made no sense to him, but his stepsister’s waiting white ass staring up at him left little room for argument.

“Okay, then.” he resigned. “Here it comes.”

He didn’t hold back either. Raising his hand like an angry father, he brought the palm down across Emily’s waiting rear. He was surprised at the loudness the smack made, more so than his stepsister’s cry. When he pulled away, he studied the quivering bottom and watched as a pink hand print started to materialize.

“Owwwww,” Emily protested. “I’m sorry, I won’t be bad anymore.”