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This is a series of stories about unreal people in unreal situations; if your family is anything like this, please avail yourself of intense psychotherapy and serious pharmacology. As a great author once said about a completely different kind of story: “Persons attempting to find a narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot will be shot.” (Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)
“Ow, ow. You little perv, that hurts.” Justine D’Enfer’s face wrinkled in pain as she lay naked on her bed with her legs splayed out. Justine was five foot eight: her one hundred and ten pounds were esthetically draped on her frame, resulting in lascivious hips, pert breasts and a wispy waist. She had bosom length chestnut hair and warm brown eyes that were now relaxing from a full squint. It was early afternoon, and twenty year old Justine was letting her nineteen year old brother Justin give her a Brazilian bikini wax.
Justin stirred the wax with a wooden spatula and shook his head. “You’re such a baby; Mom used to take this without bitching. I spent six months learning to do this downtown so she wouldn’t have strangers around her cunt, and Mom’s such a perfectionist I had to be good. Not to mention she set me up with all her friends to keep in practice.” He spread the prep oil on another patch of trimmed hair before applying the warm wax and cloth strip. “You should talk about something to take your mind off it; that’s what all Mom’s friends do when I do them.” He was a muscular nineteen year old, six foot three, with short brown hair, friendly brown eyes, and a winning smile. He wore a brown t-shirt, jeans and flip flops as he worked on his sister.
Justine gave him a rebellious leer. “Yeah, I bet your teenie weenie is ready to pop after working over those old grey crotches. How come they all want Brazilian waxes?”
“You know those old sluts: always riding the latest trend. None of them looks like they did as teens: they’ve all had boob jobs, liposuction, Botox, peels, facelifts, ass crack bleaching. Those old broads will do anything to keep their rich sugar daddies happy. Get ready, here we go again.”
“Ow, ow, ow. That was Mom, too, wasn’t it?”
“No, Mom didn’t do all that. She just liked being hairless and only wanted to do something about it every six weeks or so. I think Mom was up to something extracurricular pretty regularly, but she had some dirt on Dad to keep him around.”
“Shit, I thought she’d had Botox at least. Well yes, Mom had something else going that provided your business among other things. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. Hey, hurry up with that lotion.”
Justin anointed the freshly waxed area with a personal aloe vera mixture, and Justine purred as he worked it in. He moved over and prepped another area for treatment. “Turn over, please.” She flipped over, spreading her cheeks wide. He continued as he spread the prep oil in her vertical smile: “They were disappointed that you weren’t at the airport this morning to see them off.”
Justine sighed. “Whatever. They’re idiots: ripping people off and getting caught. Why do you think I wanted to go to boarding school? I got tired of their hypocrisy: they wanted me to be such a nice young virgin daughter to show off while they were two of the biggest pirates in town, wanted me to follow all their picky little rules, never let me have my kind of fun. I’m glad they got busted and I have no sympathy for their leaving the country to avoid jail. How come you got to stay? I thought you were completely under their thumb and they’d yank you out to keep them company?”
“No more, my slutty sister, no more. I hacked his computers and found out all his secrets,including the ones he’s still hiding.” He waxed the inside left cheek and applied the strip. “I found out how they set up ownership of the house and how they sent the money away; I busted them completely two weeks ago and they had to let me stay. They were pissed, but they had to deal with me if they weren’t going to be broke in Morocco. Auntie Pru is our guardian until we turn twenty one, and then we have enough to live on forever. Here we go again.”
“Ow, ow, ow, ow. Get that lotion in there, quick. Yeah, yeah, I guess you really know what you’re doing, teenie sincan escort weenie.” Justine took a sip from the scotch on her night table and lay back as Justin prepared another area. “How many more?”
“Just a couple more, slut sister. Hang in there. Little bro is going to take care of you.”
“Aren’t you worried that the cops are going to find the same data you did? After all, they subpoenaed all Dad’s records and hard drives. We could still be up shit’s creek when this is all over if the find the wrong hard drives and disks.”
Justin meticulously went about his work, reaching up to stroke her cheek and tease the side of her breast as it was pointed down onto the bed. “Not if they’re smashed to dust sitting in a bag with rocks in at the bottom of the river. The supporting paperwork started the fire in the fireplace last night. They’ll find documentation for what they know, but nothing new. The trial next week will be short and sweet; the folks will be exiles the rest of their lives and we’ll be free of the manipulating bastards. Here we go again.”
“Ow, ow, ow, ow. How much do the rich old bitches pay you for this?”
“A hundred a pop.”
“Shit, they could get this cheaper at the salon.”
“Yeah, but they would be seen coming and going with their names on the appointment books for others to see. I enjoy making them squirm and occasionally get a little reward for my silence.”
Justine’s eyes popped wide open as Justin prepared the last patch. “Do you fuck them, teenie weenie?”
He smoothed the last strips of cloth in place. “No, just some handjive; they’ve all grown teeth below their waists. I wish you’d stop calling me that. Last time.”
“Ow, ow, ow, ow. Yeow, that was horrible. Get that lotion in there.”
Justin started to work in more soothing lotion. “By the way, you should never taunt somebody who’s waxing your asshole, sis.”
Justine winced, “Sorry, teenie weenie.”
Justin frowned and glared. “Things have changed since you went away to high school. Take a look at this.” He dropped his trousers and shorts to display a monster stirring to reach nine inches.
“Wow, I guess you don’t have a teenie weenie any more! What a growth spurt. Mmmm, may I touch it?”
“Absolutely.” She tenderly reached out and stroked the shaft, pausing to tease the rim of the head and the slit that oozed a drop. “My, my, I think I need to get better acquainted with this dude sometime.”
“Sure. Business before pleasure. Why don’t you flip over and put your legs wide over your head so I can check for any ingrown or wild hairs?” She complied with his request as he pulled his pants up and got his tweezers.
She winced as he found a couple of ingrown hairs the wax missed. “Hey, guess what I found going through Mom’s room?”
“Her diary. It’s such a riot: Mom was a dominatrix with all her friends. Ow! All the women you’ve been waxing have been sucking Mom’s toes and worse for decades. She ordered all her friends get waxed because she liked them as hairless as she was, and she got extra kicks knowing you were waxing them to get them ready for her.”
“Wow, I can believe that now. It makes sense; why send me off to get trained to do this and set me up with this clientele? She got off on making them do it.” He looked around carefully for anything he missed. “Well, Dad used to go through a couple of hookers a week. High priced, of course.”
“I believe it. He used to pester me when I was home; I had to become the queen of cock sucking so he wouldn’t fuck me. Did he ever share the hookers with you?”
“You kidding? That selfish, self-centered bastard? He played the noble head of family and expected me to be the Promising Young Man with a Bright Future. The dude would have crapped his pants if I went out with a hooker. The only action I ever got was Mom jacking me off after the waxing sessions and the same from her friends. Mom didn’t like to do it, but I had her over a barrel; no handjob, no waxing.”
“Well, I’ll do a deal with you that I think you’ll like. I hate to cook and you are the best chef I know. In exchange for your cooking every day and a Brazilian wax every six weeks, I’ll give you a handjob every day you want one.”
“Not good enough, sis, not good enough. That’s a lot but I want a little sincan escort bayan more. The cooking and the Brazil waxing in exchange for a blowjob every day I want one.”
Justine thought for a minute. “One blowjob and four handjobs a week.”
“Three blowjobs and two handjobs.”
“Two blowjobs and three handjobs?”
Justin nodded, “Done.” They spit on their palms and shook hands to seal the deal.
Justine looked at the clock and asked, “Are we done, donkey dick?”
He looked around for a few moments, “All clear, sis.”
“I’ve got to pay a visit to Auntie Pru this afternoon. She may get in our way since she’s our guardian for another year or so, but something in Mom’s diary gives us some leverage with her. I’m going to make sure that she’s not going to do anything to spoil our fun.”
“I’ll tell you later. Let me get dressed; I need to get there before she gets off work at five. It’ll be easier to persuade her there; she’ll be more afraid of exposure at work. I’ll fill you in when I get home.” Justine got up, dressed hurriedly and gave her brother a peck on the cheek as she went out the door.
Prudence Tailleferre sat at her desk. She was the director of the public library: a position of great responsibility, but she felt a failure with her life. She was forty five years old, five foot three, two hundred pounds, and had brown hair with dramatic grey intrusions. Her teeth were crooked and her nose a little too large; her warm brown eyes were her best feature, lurking beneath shaggy eyebrows and behind thick, horn rim glasses. She wore a white silk blouse with a lace collar and black slacks above black flats. The work day was struggling toward a conclusion: it was a quarter past four and the daily mountain of paperwork had shrunk to tiny foothill. Ten minutes work without interruption would see it gone and she could relax before going home at five. It would be another droll evening, listening to soft jazz and knitting, but Prudence’s home life had been that way for the past ten years: long spells of glacial loneliness that usually defied attempts to fill them punctuated by short incursions of babysitting her niece and nephew and an occasional secret lark she indulged in once a week. Now she was their guardian; she sighed as she thought of how much trouble it was going to be keeping those two in line. It would be worse than babysitting them as toddlers.
Just as the last page was turned, her niece, Justine D’Enfer bounced into her office. Justine wore a fur coat over a light blue dress with a moderate neckline, a silver necklace, pearl earrings, and blue heels with matching purse. Prudence thought her as the same kind of brat her mother was: aggressive to the point of outrageous, flirtatious without being wanton, manipulative with only a hint of cruelty. Still, Justine was always cheerful and attentive around her aunt, and Prudence put up with her wilfulness as she had her nephew Justin’s to bask in their brash spirits, which she envied. They were rays of sunshine in her gloom, although they no longer punctuated it as often as they had in the past. Justine’s moods always ran the gamut from electric to despondent within short periods of time, so it was no surprise that after a light hearted entrance, she slumped despondently into Prudence’s extra chair. Prudence made certain that her desk was clear before she addressed her niece.
“Hello sweetheart, how’s it going today?”
“I dunno, Auntie Pru, I dunno. It’s tough with the folks gone. I don’t know what Justin and I are going to do without them.”
Prudence chuckled very softly to herself. “Well, you won’t have as many arguments around the house I’m sure. If your father were any more brilliant, he never would have gotten caught embezzling, and if your mother wasn’t involved up to her eyelashes with him she wouldn’t have gone to Morocco as well. You’re lucky that everything is in your name and your brother’s, otherwise you’d be camping out in my living room.”
Justine’s answering pout was obviously put on. “Okay, auntie, you busted me. It’s kind of like every night is Saturday night now, but I miss playing games with them. It was a lot sweeter to see how much I could get away with behind their backs. Dad was always worried about us acting dignified escort sincan enough for rich people and Mom was always worried about me becoming a slut.”
“Well, I’m not too bad; I’m more of a teaser than a pleaser. You should have seen that high school quarterback I went out with last weekend. What a hunk and what muscles! Tight pair of buns that had me drooling from the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“I hope that you’re being careful.”
“Sure, auntie, sure. No glove, no love; that’s my credo and if he’s smaller than my eight and half inch vibrator, the party’s over. Anyway, the boy had no idea how to please a woman: couldn’t find an erogenous zone with a map and when his fly came open, he couldn’t muster six inches. So, I called a cab and left him with his stiff cock hanging out lonesome.”
Prudence chuckled. “I bet he didn’t like that.”
“Yeah, he sure didn’t. He tried to fuck me anyway, but I sweet talked him into letting me blow him a little, then I chomped his dick and twisted his balls. That took care of his arrogance.”
“Ooh, that hurts to hear even thought I don’t have any. You aren’t having any parties at the house while you’re there alone, are you?”
“No, duh. We’d just have to clean it up, and some of those losers Justin works with at the radio station would never leave. So we made a deal: all partying with friends done away from home. By the way, we need a few things to restock the liquor cabinet, could you help us out?”
“Well, since it’s not for your friends, I guess I can.”
“Here’s the list.” She handed over a long list, and then settled back cooly. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about today, Auntie Pru.”
“No.” Justine’s eyebrows started to dart up and down while a sly grin played across her lips. “I’ve been reading Mom’s diary.”
Prudence swallowed and licked her lips. “Yes. How would that concern me?”
“Mom’s diary tells about what her sister likes. Her sister likes some rather different things.”
Prudence began breathing more heavily, and clutched the edge of her desk. “Yes, uh, say more.”
“Well, it seems that her sister likes abuse. Likes to be spanked in unusual places, hasn’t been with a man very often. She likes to be restrained at times likes punishment. I wonder if her sister has had a lot of fun lately?”
“Well, I, well, I don’t know what you think you’re doing reading your mother’s diary like this. This is betraying a confidence.”
“Oh, get off it Auntie. I know you and Mom don’t get along that well, and there wasn’t anything else there that I didn’t know already. It started as a little sisterly abuse and got out of hand because you liked it. I also used my pass key and checked up your computer at home. You’re a nasty girl, Auntie Pru, really nasty. All those bookmarks on femdom sites, all those mpegs of tit torture and pussy abuse, the nipple clamps in your dresser drawer: one set looks downright vicious. Ever find someone willing to take care of your special needs?”
“I had a couple of relationships over the years, but nothing that ever lasted. Never found a man of course; your grandfather abused me and I’ve had a difficult time relating to men. The women I’ve been with always drove me away in the end.”
“So it’s been a while since you’ve had any real action?” Prudence gave a brief, timid nod. “A year?” A shake of the head. “Two years? Five? Ten? Wow, you’ve had a really long dry spell, Auntie.” Justine leaned over the desk to trace her aunt’s cheek with her finger, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Well, we’re family, we’ll stick together. I’ll take care of you, Auntie P.” Justine eyes danced gleefully. “I want to come over to your house tonight for some fun.”
“Well, I don’t know, Justine. . .”
Justine patted her aunt’s hand as is lay on the desk and smiled maliciously. “I promise: we’ll only do stuff you like and I’ll respect your limits. I’ve always wanted to try this kind of kink. C’mon Auntie. You’ve always been good to us.”
“Well, all right, Justine. I guess you can come over around seven o’clock.”
“Don’t get too worked up waiting for me.”
Justine flounced out of the office, and Prudence had to take a sip from the brandy she had stowed on her closet shelf. Emotions were tearing her in half: abject fear and gleeful anticipation made her break out in a cold sweat. This could get out of hand rather quickly, but in her own self-centered way Justine had always genuinely loved her. Maybe if she let her niece get this curiosity out of her system, she would move on to some nice boy out there. . .
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