Jarhead

(Closed for Lady Mornington and myself)

Corporal Thomas Paget Junior, United States Army, Fifth Special Forces Group (Airborne) sat frozen in the aisle seat of the commercial airplane, waiting for the final descent into Wayne County Airport. For the first time in over three years, since he enlisted the second he graduated high school, he was heading home to his parents' house in Warren, Michigan.

The only problem was his parents would no longer be there.

For the sixth or seventh time, Tom reached up to remove his beret, running his hand through his brown crewcut, then scratching his chin and cheeks. It had been over thirty hours since he had gotten a chance to shave, something he was not used to, which therefore made him nervous. Even before he had gone to Iraq, Tom had had a very definite sense of discipline and precision drilled into him by his father, himself a former Pathfinder in the 101st Airborne.

Tom reached up to finger his own Senior Parachutist Badge. Pop would never get to see it now.

Stupid Japanese cars. Why was it that all Americans seemed to love to buy from the two countries their grandfathers had kicked the shit out of? And with the Ford plant so close? But no, his mother with her Canadian ways had insisted on a fancy, efficient Jap car, infected his father, diluted his patriotism...

Tom realized he was squeezing his beret, and forced his hands to let go, unclinching and putting it back on his head. As he did so he caught the gaze of a small boy, six or seven years old perhaps, who was sitting a few rows up. The boy sheepishly grinned before nervously turning around, ducking back behind the protection of the seat that seemed extravagant to one used to C-130s. Tom felt the shadow of another wry grin appear on his face. At least some people still were patriotic enough to view him as a hero. Another difference between his father's war and his own, the liberals and those who followed them hadn't yet poisoned Americans' minds over it.

Liberals. Americans. That, of course, set his mind to his sister. He wondered what Lindsay looked like now, if she'd changed any. He'd loved her so much when they had been little; the two had been inseperable. And then his big sister had gone off to university, in Canada no less, and they had barely seen each other since. The last time had been at his high school graduation, just before he left for basic and jump school. Over three years ago. Another wry grin appeared on his face. At least she'd seen it worthwhile to come back home for the funeral.

The plane hit the runway and taxied to the terminal as he thought of Lindsay. She had left him, abandoned him and the country, barely visited, barely even talked over the phone. But, in a way, Tom couldn't fault her. Lindsy had made him grow, become independent, learn to fend for himself, toughen up, ignore pain. Made him into a survivor. Like Pop. They had emailed every so often, whenever he had access to a terminal, but whereas he had written sprawling accounts of his part in their crusade for freedom, hers had been terse, extremely short, virtually no response at all. But at least they had been something, and Tom remembered how he had once felt about her. And finally, he had to admit, he would enjoy seeing his big sister...even if he knew there was some stuff he wouldn't be able to tell her. Or anyone else, for that matter.

The cabin opened and the passangers began to disembark. Tom waited for most of the people behind him to leave, before standing up, getting his large sack, mostly of clothes, from the overhead storage bin. More than three years away, and that sack was everything he owned. Not having any other baggage to clai, Tom slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the terminal, into the general foyer, looking to see if Lindsay was there yet.

Lindsay Paget

Lindsay Paget was standing just outside the partition that separated the arrivals hall from the foyer at Terminal 5. She was nervous, more nervous than she would like to admit. She still hadn't recovered from the shock that had taken her parents from her, the phonecall from a police officer calmly explaining that there had been an accident and that her parents were dead.

It surprised her that she'd been able to act in such a rational manner. Asking the head of her department for an extended leave to take care of the funeral and the possible selling of the house as well. Prof. Recaimer had been very acoomodating, granting her the leave and telling her that she ought to take whatever time she needed. She had bought tickets and flew down the very same day.

Having to identify the bodies of what used to be her parents had not proved that hard. The staff at the morgue had been very professional about the whole thing. The reverend of the local episcopalian church had come to meet her, offering what moral support he could. Lindsay had graciously rejected this. Rev. Campbell was a decent enough man, but she could no longer reconcile herself with the religion that she had been brought up with. It was all very well for those who did but like the patriotism that her father had been so adamant that they all show, religion had been shedded as soon as she had left home.

Lindsay had dreaded the moment, she hadn't been home in years, even when she visited for Tom's graduation she had elected to stay with friends rather than to spend a night in her parents house. She knew she had to go back of course, after all Tom needed a place to stay and it seemed he would need someone to be around as well. She hadn't been best pleased with his choice of joining the army, thinking it was just another way of slowly transforming him into the mirror image of their father.

Her relationship with Thomas Paget Sr had not been an easy one, not with him being a conservative patriarchal arse. It had been fine as long as she didn't venture to express an opinion, her father being of the mind that women should not waste time nor energy on issues more complicated than the running of a household and what to wear. It further irked her that she had played along with that for so long. Lindsay had been a good girl for most of her life, and she still believed herself to be one. She had always had the best grades, as well as doing most things that her parents expected her to.

It was not that she had disliked it as such. She didn't mind being in the Church group nor the fact that she was expected to look out for Tom when her parents were to busy with everything else. It was just that she had wished that someone would have asked her what she wanted. Not that Tom had been given an easier ride, as he grew up their father had been insistent that he'd become a real man, as well as instiling in him the patriotic nonsense that he himself held so dear. Whereas Lindsay had shied away from any stories about the war in Vietnam, and there had been plenty of those, Tom had lapped them up, buying into the idea of the heroes who were betrayed by the liberals at home. Those discussions, especially after Dad had had a few beers had a tendency to turn nasty. Thomas Paget Sr. could never forgive the fact that his wife's country of origin did not stand side by side with America in that war. Nor that she had accepted draft dodgers to find a refuge.

Out of spite perhaps she had hung the Maple Leaf flag on her wall as well as a picture of the Queen. The latter finding it's way to the trash can when her father had found it. There would never be a picture of royalty in his home and she'd be sorry if she ever pulled such a stunt again. Tom had been cross with her as well for her antics and even though that had hurt her more than the scowling, the worst part had still been the fact that her mum had been held responsible for it all. After that she had more or less stopped doing anything that would single her out for scowls or punishment. It was not that he had been violent, but he had a way of making her feel very stupid. It had hurt her more than the occasional slap she had received, and she had promised herself that she would never be subjected to that again.

Lindsay had done her best, never causing him to be displeased, never arguing, always being on her best behaviour, everything to be a good girl. Then came the shock when her mum came down with cancer. Not terminal but enough to confine her in hospital for weeks and even months at a time. Senior year in highschool and with a enough worries from that, Lindsay still had done her best to run the household as best as she could. Even though it had taken it's toll it had brought about a change in her relation to her father. He had started to treat her more as an equal, and even, at some points giving her some appreciation for her attempts to preserve some normality around the house. It had been just a few months before graduation when it had happened, she had been studying at a friends house and coming home rather late. Tom had already gone to bed and she found her father sitting in the den, having a drink. He had invited her to stay for a few minutes. It had happened infrequently that he allowed himself to share a civil conversation with her. This time however he had other plans it seemed, and although it never went beyond that one kiss, it had reduced her to a wreck.

She had passed her graduation and she had gotten an admission to study at McGill in Montreal. She left Warren only a few days afterwards, wowing never to return. She majored in political science and international relations, went to gradschool and then managing to secure a tenure at the department. Her grandparents in Toronto had paid for her tution and being the supportive counterweight to the silence of her father. They had scarcely shared a word since she left, not even at Tom's graduation. And now it was to late to make amends. It was not that Lindsay blamed herself, she had nothing to do with what took their lives, but she did suffer from the constant guilty concience for deserting her brother. She had always loved him, but she knew that he would never have understood what had motivated her to leave. His choice of joining the army had further added to their estrangement. She could never reconcile herself with the fact that her brother had bought the propaganda of spreading liberty and freedom. To her it looked all too much of colonial warfare, she had hinted that in an e-mail and had gotten the full sermon from him. Since then she had kept her communication with him short and very impersonal. It was not her choice but it did ensure that they did not fall out more than they had already done.

So here she was now, waiting for him in the arrivals lounge at the airport, trying to think of something to say, something that would encompass everything that had not been said over the years. It was with apprehension that she checked the doors and the clock for the twentieth time. Still she had made a promise to herself, she would try and help him, to make up for the time that she had not been there for him.

Tom walked slowly around the milling people in the terminal. He had to stop several times as various people approached him to shake his hand, offer a word of thanks for his service, one even trying to slip him twenty bucks, which Tom had politely but firmly refused. Pop had raised him not to accept charity, pity, or welfare of any kind; that led to sloth and communism, not the American way of life that promoted individualism and reward for hard work. Even had his parents still been alive, Tom wouldn't have expected any charity from them, except perhaps a night's sleep in his old room. Pop had taught Lindsay the same lessons, but it didn't seem to have stuck there. Pop had loved Lindsay so much, and how had she responded?

But then again, if they hadn't died, he might not have even gotten his discharge. Of course, even he knew that that was only part of the reason. He snorted. The doctors and the ridiculous politically-correct psychiatrists thought he couldn't handle it, that he was too inclined to doing things that endangered himself or his squadmates. Sure, he had the occasional nightmare, but he never admitted it, and he was positive it never impacted his judgment. War was hell, isn't that what George Washington had said? No one had forced him to early retirement, that was for sure! Tom was tough, knew he was. He was a survivor, just like Pop had been, would have given anything to serve and protect those who were too lazy and ungrateful enough to serve themselves. Tom was proud of his selflessness in that regard.

He had no idea what he was going to do now with his early discharge; everything he had ever known had been towards joining the Army, defending the country from all enemies internal and external, being all that he could be. Getting an early albeit still honorable 'medical' discharge hurt, like being betrayed by his father would have been. Like Lindsay leaving him for Canada when he was eleven had.

Speaking of which...there she was. The brown hair a bit shorter, only past her shoulders; the clothes a bit...different from what he remembered. Standing a few inches taller. She had always been a bit taller than him, something he had enjoyed when he was younger and the difference had been more pronounced. He had seen her as bigger and older, and therefore stronger, a protector.

He used to huddle in her arms upstairs, when Mom and Pop got into their occasional fights. She would stroke his hair and tell him not to cry, and he would fall asleep in her arms. He had always thought her beautiful, and still did; back then, her beauty had transformed her in those periods of caregiving into an angel, if one that did not conform to the rosy-cheeked blondes in his church books. But that had been a long time ago, when he was very young, before she left him and he became the survivor he was. Strong. A protector of his own.

A bit older, but definitely Lindsay. Definitely his big sister. Perhaps that was why he still felt a small twinge of nervousness in his stomach. But that was stupid. He was a man now, and could not afford to show those types of emotions, no matter how minor or how well he loved Lindsay. They were weakness, and Pop had proven that men were not weak.

He walked up to her, slinging his bag off his shoulder and onto the ground. "Hi, Lindsay," he finally said, taking her into his strong arms.

Lindsay Paget

"Hello Tommy"

She felt his arms around her and for a moment it was just like they had never parted. Then, almost as soon as he had embraced her he disentangled himself and took a step back, his features as hard and controlled as ever their father's. Lindsay stood back, smiling shyly at him as he picked up his bag. He had changed, not the purely physical change but something more sinister. There was a coldness that radiated from him, and to be honest witherself, if frightened her. Lindsay had been very much against the wars in Afghanistan and in Iraq, thinking it to have more to do with the Bush-dynasty aspirations than a genuine wish to further liberty and human rights. Perhaps it was her rebellion against the mood that had prevailed in her home.

Pushing the sentiments aside as she watched her brother again, she knew she wasn't being fair. He had only just returned from Iraq, and as far as Lindsay understood the situation it came very close to being thoroughly horrible. Added to this was of course the trauma of having lost his parents. In many aspects Tom had been closer to them than Lindsay ever had, and she imagined that the loss would affect him more than it had her.

Reaching out to stroke his cheek and seeing how he momentarily lapsed from the composed soldier to the youngster he had once been. Smiling shyly at her as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and nodding at her that he was ready to leave. She had parked the rented car just outside the terminal, making the walk there as short as possible. She didn't like the way people reacted to her brother, or rather the uniform he was wearing. People who would otherwise take no notice of him now treated him as a celebrity, or worse, some kind of saviour. She knew her father would have been proud to see it and she suspected that Tom enjoyed it as much as she found it disturbing. She hurried her steps and got in the car, thankful for the protection it offered.

"You want to get some take-away or would you prefer my cooking?" Lindsay spoke quietly, not quite knowing what to say to mitigate everything that had been left unsaid. "I guess you need a suit as well Tommy? We could go shop for one as well." It was the practical side of her speaking, the one that had made it possible for her to cope with growing up in the Paget household. She had a word for it, 'Being a Good Girl'. Never complaining and keeping a smile on her face even though she would be tearing herself to shreds on the inside. It didn't feel right to start pestering him with details about dress. Still she wanted to get it over with. Making sure that everything was set for the ceremony the following day, and dreading how to break her intentions as to their mother's resting place. Lindsay had spoken to her grandparents on the issue and they had reached an agreement that Christine would be interred in Toronto rather than in Warren. She guessed that it would be a cause for conflict but she'd be damned if her mother was to spend eternity next to her father.

Tom seemed loath to reply, being more quiet than she remembered him to be, but she put it down to the long flight, the shock of having lost their parents and the awkwardness of once again being with her. She knew he had never forgiven her for leaving, and neither had she herself. It had pained her to leave him, seeing how much he had relied on her, but she could never have told him the reasons then. She wanted to reach out, explaining that she didn't mean to hurt him, but it seemed impossible to find the right words.

They rode in silence, Tom falling asleep as soon as they reached the freeway. Lindsay found herself looking at him. His features seemed softer now, more innocent in a way, and she couldn't help but reaching out and stroking his cheek again. If he only knew how much she had missed him. It was possible that she didn't know herself, but it seemed impossible to express it without the risk of souding dishonest. He stirred at her touch and she carefully withdrew her hand, not wanting to wake him. God knows when he last had some proper sleep.

The drive took little less than an hour, they had just missed the rush hour traffic and as she pulled up at 443 Lincoln Avenue she heard him stir and yawn. "Welcome home Tommy". Once again her words had spoken in a low tone of voice, as she had been afraid that anything uttered in a louder voice would break whatever spell that had, in a small way, let her see her brother such as she remembered him.

Tom Paget

Tom allowed himself a moment of reprieve, feeling his big sister's arms wrap around him and hold him tight, his head still comfortably fitting into the area between her neck and shoulders, just as when they were younger. And like then, he allowed his head to lie there, and if only for a second it was like time had rewound. Then the moment had passed and he forced himself to pull away from her arms.

He force himself to remember that it was not the past. He was not a boy any more, he was a man and had proven that beyond the shadow of a doubt by his services above and beyond the call of duty. Lindsay had betrayed him, Pop, and America by running away when all three needed her the most, and Tom was old enough to know that he couldn't let his emotions blind him to that fact. Her calling him 'Tommy' didn't help; he was an adult and no longer called her 'Linds' like he had when he was younger.

He would have to tell her to address him as a proper adult; but that could wait, it would not do for him to scold her in private. That would reflect poorly not only on her, but also by extension the family they shared and he was now the head of. It gave him a strange feeling to realize he was now the man of the family, but if there was one thing Pop had taught him, it was not to shy from responsibility, another lesson that Lindsay had ignored in her eagerness to run away from everyone who loved her.

But still, when she reached over to stroke his cheek in a way she hadn't done in almost a decade, he couldn't help but smile back, a bit self-consciously, the self-proclaimed man of the house again transformed back into the gradeschooler who had worshipped his angelic sister.

The walk to the rentacar helped cure some of that, a number of other people coming to shake his hand and clasp him on the back. Tom took a bit longer with these people, accepting their thanks with a stoic look and words of selfless sacrifices for freedom. He wanted Lindsay to see what it was like in the real world, in the American of their father and not her godless ivory tower intellectual friends in Canada. But more than that, Tom wanted her to see what he had become. He had changed from a little boy, a weakling who would cower and run for cover when his mother goaded Pop into another little fight, to someone who put his life on the line for his country. A real hero. And if Lindsay held back a little whenever people approached, and looked at him with her pity and disgust, he pretended not to notice.

They got into the car, Tom slinging his bag into the back seat before getting in through the passenger side. It felt strange to be driven around by his sister again; he was a man, and Pop had taught him that it was common decency that a man always drive his woman. But it was rented under her name, she had the keys and the insurance (not that Tom would need or even care about that) and it had been so long since he drove, he wearily allowed it to pass. When she spoke, he took a few moments of thought before answering.

"Your cooking will be fine. It's been a while since I've had a woman's touch around the kitchen. And there is no need for me to buy something to wear for the funeral." Let Lindsay take that as she would; if she thought that meant he had one already, so much the better. But Tom had every intention of wearing his uniform to the funeral, just as Pop would have wanted. Pop had also been vocal about being buried in his own service uniform; it was too late now for him to do anything about it, and he hoped (if doubted) that Lindsay had had the funeral home follow their father's request. If she hadn't, he would have some more strong words for her later. But for now, Tom felt tired, and to show he didn't wish to discuss the topic of his suit any more, he closed his eyes, leaning the seat back. What luxuries they enjoyed, without even being aware of it.

He must have fallen asleep, as the next thing Tom was aware of was his sister's voice welcoming him home. Blinking awake quickly - Pop had ensured he didn't dally in bed in the morning, combat tours in Iraq had helped reinforce that lifesaving ability, and he'd be damned if he'd go soft now - Tom checked his watch, noticing it had indeed been almost an hour since they had left the airport. He had fallen asleep without even knowing it, and hadn't even dreamed. The first was amazing enough, the second nearly miraculous. He hadn't slept werll since going to Iraq; the stress of knowing all Western civilization relied on the success of your mission would make even the strongest soldier (which Tom considered himself without any trace of arrogance as being) have difficulties. It had also been part of the reason he had been dismissed from service. But the fact he had been able to fall asleep so easily had just shown that the Army quacks deserved their name.

He looked out at the house. It looked the same, at least what he could make out in the dusk. The brown shingle siding, the stoop, the two stories...all except one thing. Brows creasing, he turned to Lindsay.

"You took the flag down," he stated flatly. The American flag had once flown over the USS Arizona, and Pop had been proud to fly it over his front door for the past thirty years. It was obvious what had happened to it; he knew his father would have told him if something had happened to The Flag, and would have replaced it anyways. Tom kept his anger hidden inside him, once more glad he had worked for so long to control his emotions. He could only imagine what he might be like now if he was someone who was imbalanced.

"Before you make dinner, you will put it back out there." Lindsay began to open her mouth, but Tom raised his hand, cutting her off. "This is not up for debate, Lindsay. This is not your socialist Canadian school. This is the home of two heroes of the United States Army. And I am now the head of the household, and you will respect that." Tom's gaze softened for a second, hurt in his eyes that Lindsay would do something like this just to hurt him (what else could she have done it for, knowing he would be coming back?), but before he said anything else, he opened the door, stepping out of the car, picking up his bag and heading inside through the garage door she had opened.

Tom walked through the kitchen, heading up the stairs to the bedrooms, keeping his gaze straight ahead. From what he saw, everything looked the same. But he felt the pain from knowing things had changed while he was away, and even he, desensitized as he had forced himself to become to deal with the harshness of the military lifestyle, felt some stirrings within, knowing that he would never see his parents again. He couldn't cry, not here, not ever, especially not while trying to establish his position as head of the family to the headstrong Lindsay. So he forced himself to ignore everything around him, burying his feelings once more.

Making his way into his room, he saw that Lindsay at least had left it alone. Not a single thing seemed changed - posters of soldiers and flags still remained on the wall, the bed and floor immaculate. Tossing the bag on the bed, Tom pulled out his toiletries and a change of clothes, walking into the bathroom for a shave and a shower, forcing his mind to stay as blank as possible.

Lindsay Paget

"Tommy it's not..."

She was cut short as her brother got out of the car with a determined stride and left her. Lindsay cursed herself, she should have known that the flag would be an issue but then again she couldn't be asked to go about the process of hoisting it nor lowering it. Reverend Campbell had helped her taking it down when he had visited and she had left it lying on the table in the dining room since. Of course she had issues with the patriotic sentiments but to be honest they were secondary to everything else she had to deal with right now.

"That just went brilliant Linds" she spoke to herself as she got out of the car and headed inside. As she walked through the hall to the kitchen a storm of conflicting emotions assailed her. On the one hand the anger that Tom's words had provoked in her. She knew that he still blamed her for abandoning him, but how could she tell him? How could she ever explain that his hero, their father had abused her? He would never understand, he wouldn't want to understand. In her brother's world there were a number of sacrosanct entities. America, the Army and their Father. Through their sporadic contacts since her move to Canada she had understood that if anything stood above criticism it was that.

Knowing she would have to face him, and steeling herself knowing that there was another thing that she had decided that would send him into another burst of cold fury. Bracing herself as she went up the stairs and quietly knocking on his door. Tom was standing in the middle of the room, having changed from his camoflague fatigues to the dress uniform. A row of colourful badges adorning his chest, contrasting to the drab colour of the tunic.

"Hey Tommy I'm sorry about the flag, I just didn't pay attention to it." She bit her lip, hating herself for giving in without a fight and for not standing up for herself but just swallowing the insults that he had hurled at her. 'Being A Good Girl', yes that's what it was, but at least it deflected some of his rage, or at least she hoped it would. She stood in the doorway, still apprehensive about confronting him, but knowing she'd better tell him at some point. "Can I come in?" He nodded and Lindsay carefully stepped inside and sat down on his bed. "There's a thing you ought to know Tommy. I spoke to Granddad about it and we sort of agreed that mum will not be buried here but home in Toronto."

She kept his gaze, seeing his face harden again, his cheeks flush with colour as he looked at her. Lindsay didn't reply to the barrage of accusations that was hurled at her, nor did she try to defend herself. It was pointless and she knew that as soon as he opened his mouth. Tom would never listen to her reasons, nor would he understand it. She wanted to stand up and yell to him what their father had done, but once again the practical side of her won and she kept quiet. Sitting back as his rage peaked and then slowly decreased into a cold and quiet anger.

Lindsay didn't speak to him for the remainder of the day. She made dinner which he ate in his room. Tom seemed intent to have as little to do with her as possible and on the few occasions that they did run into each other he refused to talk to her. She was hurt by the stony silence but didn't push him into a confrontation, although part of her wanted to scream at him, to shake some sense into him. She knew that there was more to him than the image he conveyed now. It still didn't make it less painful but she argued that once the funeral was over and done with he would, perhaps lower his defenses. It was egotistical of her, she knew that Tom wouldn't be the same person she had left but neither could se reconcile herself with whom he'd become.

It must have been terrible in Iraq, she guessed that much, and it was bound to have taken it's toll on him. What further grieved her was the fact that like herself Tom had been conditioned to assume that this was the way things ought to be. Lindsay knew him well enough to see that whatever pretences he was putting up, it was merely a way of hiding the pain underneath. Then again Tom had never been allowed to show weakness. Their father had effectively beat that out of him. A man does not cry, a man does not show emotions at all. Alone in her room she found herself cursing him for what he had done to them both. Economy of emotion had been Lindsay's way of handling her own experiences, but in the darkness of her room she could finally confess to having hated her father for all these years.

She woke up early the next day, quietly making her way downstairs for cup of coffee and a cigarette before Tom got up. Lindsay had taken to smoking as soon as she left home, she didn't overdo it and she guessed it another small part of her rebellion against the regime she had suffered under. She walked quietly down the stairs and entering the kitchen. Turning on the light she was startled to find Tom seated by the table in the dark. He was already dressed in his uniform, the beret placed on the table. She smiled shyly about to tell him good morning, but she was cut short.

"Get dressed Lindsay, you look like a prostitute."

The words hit her like a physical blow and she felt her cheeks burn with barely repressed anger. Who did he think he was telling her how to dress or behave. For a second she stared belligerently at him, willing him to follow through but he just shook his head and turned to stare at the opposite wall.

"Pop wouldn't have let you prance around like that and I don't see why I should either."

Lindsay balled her fists, fighting the impulse to scream at him, to tell him what kind of a monster his beloved hero had been, but once again 'Being A Good Girl' overrode it. Blinking a few times as she put the cigarettes down and trying to catch his eye.

"I'm sorry Tommy, I just didn't think you were up already."

Tom didn't reply, only sneered at her as he kept his eyes firmly on the wall. It was conflicting, on the one hand the impulse to reach out, to try and console him and on the other the anger that simmered just beneath the surface, wanting her to lash out and tell him to mind his own fucking business. But as usual she shied away from anything that would being about a conflict. She cursed her own cowardice as she showered, then she cried. The tears mingling with the water on her face and the sobs drowned out by the sound of the jets hitting the floor.

They left for the Church an hour or so later. She let Tom drive, not wanting to provoke his temper further. She was well aware of his views by now and she didn't have the energy to face up to another scolding. They were greeted by their grandparents on the parkinglot. Grandfather still carried himself with the same air of selfconfidence he'd always done although being well over eighty and having, grudingly, to use a cane these days. Grandma's bubbly personality somewhat subdued by the solemnity of the situation. She hugged them both and remained with them as Tom quickly paced over to speak to uncle Stan and his wife Janice. She couldn't face speaking to them right now, knowing that Stan would be lightly to reinforce whatever ideas that Tom was currently subscribing to.

Lindsay didn't pay much attention to the service as such, she had asked Reverend Campbell to keep it brief. She couldn't handle any long speeches about the commendability of her dad, neither as a husband and father nor as soldier. John Campbell had thankfully agreed and even though she knew Stan hadn't been best pleased that he was not allowed to give a speech, her grandfather had supported her decision in keeping the service to a bare minimum.

She could see how angry Tom had been during the service and as soon as it was concluded he had stormed of. Lindsay was about to follow but Grandad had stayed her, offering to try and sort it out with Tom rather than to expose her to his anger again. She watched from a distance how Granddad William spoke to him, but she didn't know if he go through the stubborn attitude that her brother had showed her. Leaning on her grandmother for support as the two of them returned. Granddad reassuring her that everything was taken care of and that the two of them should head home for some rest and that they'd be seeing eachother the following day.

There was an oppressive silence between them as they drove home. None of them speaking other than short sentences, although she imagined that she could see another side of him. But as soon as she did he withdrew, once again assuming the hard impenetrable soldier's face.

Tom went to bed early, saying he had a headache and declining any of her attempts to try and help him. She found herself going through the paperworks that her parents had left. One thing had to be handed to their father that he at least had kept his finances in order. She also made some suggestions for what Tom should do now that he was being released from the Army. She would like for him to go to college, if they sold the house he would have enough funds to cover that, but she supposed that he would not be interested. It was a shame seeing as Tommy was an intelligent enough young man, but their father had deemed higher learning something unfit for a proper man. Perhaps training to be a police officer? She'd made a note to speak to him about it, whenever he came round to actually speak to her again.

She had gotten ready for bed when she heard him scream. Not thinking she hurried across the hallway to his room, finding him sitting up in bed, soaked in sweat and his face buried in his hands. Acting out of instinct rather than anything else she sat down next to him, pulling him close whispering as she had done so many times as they grew up, and she had found herself consoling him.

"It was just a nightmare Tommy, it's nothing to worry about."

Tom Paget

Tom felt a bit more himself after the shower, as if the scalding hot water - a luxury in most of the billets he'd had in Iraq, funnily enough given how Goddamned hot it was in the day - had burned away his twisted emotions, smelted away his human imperfections leaving only the forged steel of his true being behind. A soldier was more than a normal human, and after shaving and cleaning and clearing his mind, Tom was once more worthy to remember that aphorism of Pop's.

He was just finishing changing into his dress uniform when Lindsay knocked on his door. Tom loved his dress uniform. To him, there was nothing more sleek, fashionable, even beautiful in the world. It was functional, at the same time showing off his talents and rank in a way that was both utilitarian and prominent. Forget tailored Italian suits, Tom wished he could have worn it for the rest of his life. He wondered if Lindsay had waited until he was finished dressing in it to knock. He hoped so; he hoped the uniform would even moreso than his fatigues remind her who and what he was, that the roles of their last parting were now reversed. At the least, help make her a bit more uncomfortable, and thus back in her place.

He turned to look at her, keeping his gaze blank as she entered, not respoding to the flag and only nodding at her request to enter, his eyes locked onto her as she entered the room and sat on his bed. At her next few words, Tom fought to keep himself as still as possible, focusing on the feeling of composure he had just achieved before she once again barged in to disrupt his life with her perverted views of how things ought to be.

"How dare you. How DARE you!" he struggled to keep his voice steady, slowly failing to prevent from gradually yelling. "Is nothing sacred to you at all? You've already shown that family ties and patriotism are just jokes to you. That you're an atheist and a liar and God knows what else. But THIS! Taking Mom away from the man she loved, from the country she CHOSE to live in! Do marriage vows also mean nothing to you? Vows to stay by each other's side for eternity? Are you that immoral? Of course you are, do I even need to ask!?"

Tom could feel his face positively glowing, his fingers curled into the palms of his hand; if his nails had been even a bit longer, they would have been drawing blood. He took a short breath to steady himself, feeling that he was beginning to pant. He had never struck a lady before, and he loved his sister to much to begin with her (as God was his witness, he truly loved Lindsay, which was why her betrayals and backstabbing hurt him so much) yet he was beginning to doubt his ability to control himself.

"Get out of my room. Just get out NOW!" he said calmly, only the final word leaving his mouth in an uncontrolled bellow. She silently backed out of his room, and he couldn't help but sneer at her behind her back as she left. She was the one he had once looked up to as a protector? The one who was too cowardly to state her intentions until after she had conspired behind him? The sneer fell, replaced by something that Tom would swear was not a trembling lip. What had happened to Lindsay? Why was she doing this to him? Did she really feel nothing for him any more? He loved her, had worshipped her, seen her as an angel of mercy...and now she took such delight in hurting him at his most vulnerable points, again and again. Was this all over Iraq? Was she so cruelly punishing him for following his life's destiny?

Then the trembling lip was gone, replaced with the stoic stony mask that Tom had forced himself to view as his norm. No. No, he wouldn't...he couldn't let his thoughts go there. That way led remorse, grief, sadness, compassion. Weakness. A soldier could not afford any of those. A man could not afford any of those. Pop surely hadn't, and Tom knew he could never hope to be half the man or a quarter the soldier Pop had been, but he would sure as hell try. So his mask was back on, his mind purged of all of the weaknesses that tried to drag him back down into the realm of the normal people that he was not; like Pop, never had been.

Tom avoided Lindsay as much as possible, spending the time sitting on his bed in uniform, staring at the same discolored spot in the wallpaint he had always stared at when he had been a child and struggled not to cry over some pathetically trivial humiliation or injury. Tom focused everything he had on the spot, until he felt the tension in his temples, the pounding of each blood vessel exquisite in its pain. It had once been the intensity of his forcing himself to hold back the shameful tears that would scream to the world that he was still a child, still weak. Now it just meant that he was reaching his place of control, where he was assured of his control over his weakness.

The only time he saw Lindsay again that day was when he went downstairs to fetch the dinner that he eat in his room, before going downstairs to return the empty dishes. It sickened Tom to have to eat the food prepared by her; it was too close to begging charity from an enemy, and the food had tasted of ashes in his mouth. After dinner, he performed his calisthenics, cleaned up, read the Bible while praying for the healing strength of Jesus to fill both himself and Lindsay, before falling asleep.

As usual, his dreams were unsettling, and he tossed and turned, seeing before him the charred remains of a child that had been caught by a white phosphorus round during the Fallujah uprising...the face of his first kill, a Taliban his age with an RPG launcher during an insertion into Pakistan before deploying to Iraq...a woman whose legs had been torn off by a Falcon missile striking a Kurdish market that he had accidentally tagged, crawling forward for help that could not possible save her in the few minutes of miserable life she had left...hundreds of other victims before him, real and imagined, crying, moaning, screaming, reaching out to him, cursing him, their burned and clammy and bloody hands grabbing onto him, pulling him down, smothering him, he couldn't breath, the air was filled with decay and death, death he had caused...

Tom awoke at 0300, covered in cold sweat, the sheets tangled aroudn him, adrenaline still pumping though his system, the fight-or-flight reflexes still very much active and only encouraged by the fact he was confused for a few terifying seconds as to where he was. When it finally dawned on him, he forced his breathing to slow down, his heart to come under control. He was home, in America, a hero, the war was far, far away. Tom stood from the bed clad only in his nighttime boxers, as usual staring down at the sweaty sheets that reeked of fear in disgust. Only in sleep did his rigorous and otherwise perfectly crafted self-controls break down. Only there could he betray himself. Indeed, it had been his sleep that had caused him to be removed from active duty, his body's ultimate treason.

Getting sweatpants and a shirt on, he slipped into his sneakers for a jog, knowing that even though he had only had a few hours of sleep, trying to get more would be useless. Tom justified it by the assumption he would need to be up early anyways. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid to face his nightmares again. Now that he was awake, fear was not something that he would let himself register. When he finished his ten-mile loop, he returned to the house, quietly showering in the downstairs bathroom so as not to wake Lindsay (she had annoyed, even angered him, but some small part of him remembered common decency) and then dressed in his uniform. Unsure what to do then for the next few hours, and glancing with disgust and an instantly-repressed frisson of shame at the still-tangled sheets, Tom went downstairs to sit at the table, trying to compose his thoughts, head back to the state where he was perfectly in control, focusing on a blank spot on the wall, as he had in the Army when his offcolor bedroom wall was unavailable.

He had no idea how long it was before he heard Lindsay make her way down the stairs, turning the lights on, causing him to blink once but otherwise not react. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the sight causing him to shift a bit more to take her in, before returning to stare at the almost-hypnotic spot on the wall he had claimed on his own. He told her to change her clothes, not believing what she was wearing. A small, form-fitting T-shirt and a ridiculous pair of panties that barely hid anything. Her retort did not even register to him, her leaving the room only a background datum in his suddenly churning mind.

Why was she dressed like such a...a slut? Did she have no shame? Perhaps there was a lover involved, either here that she was trying to impress or in Canada, who had gotten her them to wear, who she liked to wear for him, to tease and arouse him...Was that why she had abandoned him? To follow some liberal draft dodger pseudo-intellectual? The idea of another man luring his Lindsay away from her family, taking the spot in her heart that had once been reserved for him, made Tom nearly as angry as he had been yesterday. If he had been anyone else, he might have recognized another feeling, jealousy, but Tom had forced himself to abandon any such pretenses or claims to posessions as weighting him down, spiritually if not physically. So all he did in response, instead of wondering what had come over him, was to wring his beret between his hands.

He drove them to the Church, taking the driver's seat without asking, and glad to see Lindsay submitting without a fight, learning her place, at least in one minor area. At the Church, he properly - some lesser, more emotionally-entrapped people might have said stiffly - greeted his grandparents. Grandfather William had been a hero of the Canadian Army during World War II, and had earned the Victoria Cross at Normandy, and so was awarded a higher respect than Tom than he might otherwise have given, seeing as William Mercer had been drafted as opposed to volunteering and had immediately resigned after the war to resume his intellectual pursuits ever since. However, he was his mother's father and the oldest of his male relatives, and so Tom would always defer to him, respectfully and without question. Grandmother Roberta, he treated a bit cooler, being neither a war hero nor paterfamilias, but still an intellectual and a Canadian. He had always suspected Roberta (William, as well) cared for Lindsay more than she had for him, and it was obvious she especially had disliked Pop. But she was still one of his family elders, and so Tom was properly deferential to her.

After going through the required meeting of them, he sought out Uncle Stan and Aunt Janice. Stan had been Pop's brother, and also volunteered for the Army during Vietnam. However, as luck would have it, Stan had never been shipped into combat; still as he had volunteered and wished for it, Tom couldn't hold that against him, especially as he was still properly religious and Republican. It was from Stan that he learned he would not be able to speak at the funeral. Only the fact that Reverend Campbell then announced the start of services stopped Tom from storming off to find Lindsay then and there; he would not disrupt the word of a priest.

Even one who had become as obviously lax and corrupt as Campbell, Tom realized during the man's service, something that barely deserved the name, it was so short and perfunctory, skipping over almost every aspect of Pop's life. At several points, Tom had to grit his teeth to stop from jumping up and angrily denouncing this charade. Only his reverence for God as served by the priest stopped him. Lindsay might be degenerate and enough of an atheist to interfere in a house of God, but Tom wasn't. That was not what he had fought for.

Tom walked away from the service as far and as fast as he could after laying the flower down in Pop's casket, forcing himself to look away from the waxy face of Sergeant Thomas Paget Sr. He absolutely would not break down in front of all these people. Doing so would betray the trust and education Pop had given him as much as Lindsay's manuvering had. His Pop deserved the best on this day; thank God that at least he and Uncle Stan were here to give it to him, since the rest of the family seemed hell-bent on shoveling him into the dirt and forgetting him as fast as possible. If he Pop hadn't drilled into him the importance of family to the Christian and American way of life, then Tom would have cursed them all. As it was, he spit into the cold ground at the thought of them.

Grandfather William approached him soon later, talking to him softly and gently, asking him not to be angry at Lindsay, that moving Mother's remains to Canada had been all his idea as was keeping the service short, that they were both for the best, that Tom might have different views but he was still family and loved, and someday he would understand. Tom kept largely quiet, his responses limited to muted nodding of the head and a soft "Yes, Sir." Grandfather William might have been a leftist and an intellectual and a Canadian, but he was still a gentleman and the head of the family, and Tom did not fault him for obviously trying to take the blame for Lindsay's ideas; in fact, he respected him more for trying to protect his granddaughter and retain familar stability. Still, Lindsay was his sister and living under his roof, and although he was too respectful to say it to William's face, there was no way Lindsay would get away with this disrespect to the man of the house.

Tom finally drove Lindsay back to their house as soon as they were able to escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the joke of a half-funeral. Mother stolen from her proper resting place, the man of God making a mockery of the services, Pop's family forbidden by those not even related to him from speaking, the family conspiring all against him...It was almost a nightmare, something from the conspiracy paperbacks one of his squadmates had loved and had occasionally lent to Tom to help whittle the time away.

He was quiet in the car, and as soon as he got home, he went upstairs, preparing for bed without another word to his sister. Calisthenics, shower, shave, Bible, stripping down to boxers, and then, with a half-second hesitation that he was unwilling to admit was fear, Tom slipped beneath the sheets, scrunching his eyes shut, forcing himself to quiet down, damp down his mind, clear it of all thoughts, and perhaps...just perhaps...

The city's name was Khoram Abad, over 100 miles inside Iran. The 160th SOAR Blackhawks had deposited the team just outside the limits. In order to time it perfectly with the nightfall, they only had an hour or two. If they were caught, they'd be lucky to be paraded around as hostages. As Kowalski and Sergeant Bentham took point during the infiltration, Tom had the IR spotter, painting their target, the Revolutionary Guard barracks that was helping provide training to the Mahdi Army in Iraq. At least, so they had been told in the briefing, and that was good enough for any soldier.

In reality, the Hornet drone had done its job admirably, slamming into the barracks in a perfect imitation of an out-of-control destabilization, and SOAR had evacuated Tom's Green Beret team. In his dream, the explosion had washed over them all, trapping them, crawling up their bodies like napalm, trapping them to the ground, burning through their clothes, through their skin and muscles, with Tom conscious and remaining alive and unable to do anything but scream as he felt the fire he had unleashed slowly consume all of him...

This time Tom wasn't able to contain his scream as he shot up, his lungs filling with air for a second yell of pure pain and confusion and terror. His hands covering his face as he suddenly started sobbing, Tom's first indication that the Angel was in his room was when she swept him into her arms and told him everything was all right, that she was there, that it was all over. The suddenness of the long-coveted comfort combined with the aftereffects of his constantly-growing nightmares left Tom vulnerable enough to surrender totally to Lindsay's embrace, and once more, Tom was eleven years old, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck, arms around her waist with hers holding him tight as his whole body shook, the repressed tears finally flowing into the pillow of her soft brown hair as he sobbed like the child he had been the last time his Angel had comforted him.

They stayed that way for a long time, Tom finally calming down, his tears ending with a sniffle as he finally pulled away; as if they had been posion leached from his body, Tom felt more in control of himself, back to the real him, and increasingly mortified as to what weakness had let him just become a child again. Lindsay took the time to ask what was wrong and he snapped back, more by reflex than anything.

"Nothing. I...nothing."

He saw the hurt look on Lindsay's face, and apparently he wasn't as back to normal as he had thought, for Tom's self-imposed stern face again twitched then dropped. He reached for her hand, pulling her back down beside him.

"I...I didn't mean that, Linds. I'm sorry. Please...will you please stay with me?"

She once more let him lie his head down on her shoulder, arms around each other, as she rocked him gently back and forth, singing a soft song that had comforted him when he had been younger, and made him fully confused for a time now, wondering if by some miracle they actually had been sent back in time, so he could set things right, make sure Lindsay never left him, that she knew how much he loved her and that she returned his love, that her soft touches and comforting body would always be his, to love and cherish and hold whenever he wanted, with no Mother or Father or university or Army to get in the way, just them in love as was surely meant to be...

He found himself kissing her.

She instantly recoiled, and Tom stared at her, confusion and anger and the unbelievable pain of being rejected by the woman he loved in his eyes.

"Please, Lindsay, don't," he said again, holding her hand firmly as she tried to pull it away. "I need you now. I...you don't know how bad it is for me. I need you more than ever, Linds. You're my Angel. I love you."

And then, with a bit more hurt, "You let Pop kiss you. Do you really hate me more than Pop?" He had seen Lindsay let their father kiss her, a man she had hated. Yet she claimed to love Tom, and he was now the head of the family, taking Pop's place. And yet she would refuse him what she had given Pop?

He felt tears returning to his eyes; but this time, Tom didn't care. For the second time in his life, after her fleeing to Canada, Tom was experiencing the rejection of the woman he loved, cherished and adored above all others. On the heel of everything else that had just happened to him - the deaths of his parents, the rejection of the Army, the nightmares coming to take over his life - Tom didn't know if he could deal with it. He didn't want to deal with it.

Lindsay Paget

There had been a moment of peace as she held him, comforting him as she had used to do when they were both children. Slowly his breathing became less laboured and the tremors subsided until he lay at ease next to her. In that instant she dared hope that, perhaps, they would be given the chance to rebuild what had been broken. Leaning closer and kissing his forehead as she recited the words from "Skye Boat Song" that their mother had used to sing to both of them, and later she had sung to him whenever he had been assailed by nightmares.

Then the shock and the shame as he pressed his lips to hers, making her want to scream as she felt his tongue probing her mouth. Scrambling away from him, once again reduced to the same position she had been in all these years ago when her father had done the same thing to her. A wave of disgust welled up in her, disgust at her brother's action as well as for herself, that she allowed it to happen again.

"Tommy, it's not right and you don't mean that"

She tried reasoning with him but the accusations that he hurled at her the second she opened her mouth were enough to shatter what pretences she had. Lindsay wanted to tell him that she had not enjoyed their father's advances, or that she had not allowed him to do so out of love but rather fear. All this begged to be said but she found herself unable to speak. Turning her head in a feeble attempt to avoid his lips as he once more kissed her, this time letting his hand roam across her chest, cupping her breasts through the t-shirt she was wearing. He kept professing his love for her, his need as his kisses grew in intensity.

Lindsay tried vainly, and on one level she thought she didn't try at all, to push him away but like the situation with her father she did not get up and leave. Her entire body seeming to have gone limp in face of his assaults. She whimpered as he pulled the t-shirt open, revealing her breasts to his view, still speaking calmly, telling her that she was his Angel, his beloved, but the words were belied by the roughness of his actions. She felt his lips pressing against hers again as he tugged at the hem of her panties, pulling them down and placing his hand between her legs, roughly fondling her sex.

She must have tried to hit him, she imagined afterwards that she had. Whether it had been a slap or a protest he responded in kind, his fingers around her neck squeezing hard as he pushed his finger inside her making her cry out in pain and fright. He twisted his finger inside her as he changed position, his hand firmly clasped around her neck as he got in between her legs, tugging his boxers down and positioning himself at her entrance.

He spoke again, repeating the same words, that he loved her, needed her and that she was his Angel, making a mockery of their meaning. Lindsay turned her head, tears obscuring her vision as she felt the head of his member pushing at her, then the sharp searing pain as he entered her.

She could hear herself crying as he picked up the pace, his hand on her cheek making her meet his eyes. There was a flicker of a smile on his lips as he once more told her that he loved her. His mouth covering hers, forcing his tongue inside as he attempted to kiss her again. She felt his pelvis grinding against hers as his thrusts became faster.

Tom looked at her again, his eyes boring into her, seemingly indifferent to the pain and disgust he had brought on her. She felt him tensing up knowing he would soon be spent, but he prologed it. Staying his movements and forcing her to look at him.

"Tell me you love me Lindsay."

The words spoken flatly, eerily void of passion and all the more frightening for it. She shook her head, unable to pronounce the words. How could she tell him that after what he had done. Lindsay bit her lip, shaking her head as he ordered her again. Her refusal must have angered him, and once more she felt his hand around her neck choking her until she had to give in or running out of breath.

"I love you Tommy"

Her words interspersed with sobs as she felt him push inside her and with a grunt spend his emissions. He kissed her again, caressing her face and wiping away the tears before getting of her and pulling her close to him. Resting her head on his shoulder as he held her. Lindsay was too shocked to pay attention to his words but one sentence that reverberated in her ears, making her feel physically sick.

"We will always be together Lindsay. Always"

Tom Paget

Tom kissed Lindsay, first on the right cheek and then the left, his thumbs rising up to cup her sweet face, her delicate skin such a contrast to his own rough, calloused hands. "There there, Linds, don't cry," he said, with a small smile, as he wiped her tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. She stared at him blankly, which hurt him a bit on the inside, but not enough to dampen the joy, the ebullient afterglow he still felt at the long-awaited consummation of their love. He sat up in bed, pulling her head down to rest against his shoulder, gently stroking her hair and telling her how much he loved her in a reverse of how she had just comforted him. She remained stiff and quiet in his arms, and he had trailed off.

Tom had not been a virgin; he had had a few girls in highschool, and a few more in the Army, although as there were no women in the Special Forces, and he didn't trust the very few Arab women who were willing, it had largely been limited to drunk and willing privates he had met at parties at base and who had been thrilled at the chance to roll around with a Green Beret. He was not lacking in self-confidence, but Tom had to admit to himself that he probably wasn't the most skilled lover. Lindsay hadn't been either, even though his finger had found that she was obviously no virgin either. Tom's mind clouded at the thought of her hypothetical draft-dodging boyfriend who bought her whorish panties. But that would all change; he and Lindsay would be together, now. Plenty of time for her to forget her old lover, and for both of them to learn the fine skills of lovemaking. Not that he had found anything wrong with what they had just done; the merest touch of her, his idealized and perfect woman, had almost been enough to set him off. But first things first.

"Lindsay," he said softly. "I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have choked you. I...should have had better self-control. I...I just wanted to know that you love me as much as I love you. Even when you hit me, I...I shouldn't have hit you back. I want you to know how sorry I am, Linds. As long as you don't try to hit me again, I won't lay a finger on you, I promise. Do you forgive me, Lindsay? Please say you forgive me, my Angel. Say it."

It took a bit more of his gentle coaching before Lindsay finally would say the words, but Tom supposed that was only to be expected. Lindsay was a so-called 'liberated woman' and would take time to come to terms with her proper position below the man of the house, but once she did, she would realize that it really was not that bad, that Tom loved her and could take care of her and that she would never come to harm. Tom had all the time in the world to help coach her, now. And even a proper wife might take a bit of time to forgive a husband who choked her.

"Thank you," he whispered once she had said it, kissing her cheek again, lying them down in the bed and pulling the sheets up over their naked forms. He returned his arms around her, stroking her soft stomach from her breasts down to her small tuft, a gentle reminder that they would forever be linked and that it would be best for her not to run.

"Linds, I know you have a boyfriend in Canada...Shhh, don't deny it, I don't mind," he said as she started to protest. "I don't hold it against you that you fell into loose, immoral ways up there. But that will stop. It just simply wouldn't do for you to sleep with anyone who wasn't the man of your house and the man you love, would it now, my love?" he asked, kissing the back of her neck softly. "You can call him tomorrow to tell him...When I am with you, of course," he added. It wasn't that he didn't trust Lindsay, at lest not exactly; like he had thought earlier, it would take some time for her to come to terms with her new life. And he would be patient and supportive of her throughout her training.

"Which brings me to my next point, Linds, my love..." His hand slowly stroked the length of her arm. "I know you want to sell this house. That will not happen," he said, quietly but sternly, not inviting any argument or dissention. "This house belonged to Grandpop Fred, and it belonged to Pop, and it is only fitting it stays in our family." Tom emphasized the word our. "And since you will be leaving your Canadian boyfriend for your true love, and as I will be living here, I think it's time you gave up your ivory-tower job and moved back here, to the real world and to live with me. I'll find a job that can support us, and you can live in comfort. No stressing job, no need to worry about anything, just us and our love, my sweet Angel."

He turned her around in the bed so that they were facing each other. She looked very timid, afraid, and Tom just had to smile. She was just so beautiful, so delicate and pure and innocent. The Lindsay who had run off and betrayed America and shacked up with pseudo-intellectuals hadn't been, but this was not her, this was his Linds. The woman he loved. All his.

"Thank you, Linds," he said, reaching out to caress her face. "For...everything you've done. This hasn't been easy for me, leaving the Army and coming home to, to, to this." He had almost slipped up and cried again, but managed to work through it, his eyes only growing a bit moist. "But knowing I have you back again, forever this time, that you love me...It's like I have a brand new life ahead of me." He smiled wide, a giggle almost escaping from his mouth. "Stupid of me, I know, but...it's all thanks to you. I really do love you, Linds. You are everything to me, and if anything had ever happened to you, well, I'd...Well, you're everything to me." He leaned forward in the dark, kissing her soft, compliant, motionless lips once more, before pulling back. "Now let's get some sleep, I have a big day planned for us tomorrow. Say goodnight and tell me you love me, Linds."

She softly spoke it and Tom smiled again, kissing her nose softly before lying back, waiting for her to go to sleep. Once she did, he quietly rose off the bed, heading downstairs, removing the cords from the landline phones and the Internet connection cable from the old PC in Pop's former workroom. He took the car keys and, rooting through Lindsay's purse which was still on the kitchen table, took her cellphone as well. Tom looked at the door for a few moments, mentally making a note to go to the hardware store a few blocks down tomorrow to get an extra pair of locks to install. He loved Lindsay and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, which was why he was doing this. It was all for her own good, and as soon as she realized that, and started to behave like a good girl, he would start to give her some of her privileges back.

He went back into Pop's workroom, opening the combination-lock safe and depositing the phone, keys, and cables there. He doubted Lindsay would know the combination, and if she did, if she would think to look there before he woke up. Climbing the stairs gently, he entered into his room, closing the door behind him and locking it, putting the key in the back of his underwear drawer. Just a bit of extra protection; she'd probably look for it, but in doing so would also likely wake him. He made another mental note, to get a third lock for the bedroom - not this one, but his parents'. As the new man of the house and his love, it was only proper they inherit the room reserved for them. Neither he nor Lindsay were children any more, they were adults; it was time they slept in the adults' room. He would have her move their stuff into there tomorrow.

That done, he looked down at the sleeping form of his lover fondly, tenderly. She truly was an angel, he mused as he slipped into the bed beside her, cuddling up to her frame. He kissed her softly once more, before falling into a relaxing sleep, his only dream one where he and Lindsay lived together forever.

Lindsay Paget

If Tommy dreamed then Lindsay were reliving the nightmare. The dull pain between her legs a prominent reminder of what her brother had just subjected her to, but even if the physical violation made her feely sick, it was the ominous prospects regarding their future that frightened her.

Tommy was not in his right mind, no sane person least of all her brother would ever harbour ideas such as the ones he had expressed. It must have to do with whatever he experienced in Iraq that now manifested itself like this. On one level Lindsay realised that she was not being rational, she ought to have turned and hit him, trying to defend herself, standing up for herself. She couldn't however muster the energy to do so, once again falling back becoming the quiet, compliant girl she had been for as long as she had lived under her father's roof.

Lindsay must have fallen asleep, for she was startled to see Tommy sitting up next to her. He caressed her face, telling her that she looked beautiful and that he was only going out for a short while. Bracing herself as she spoke next.

"Tommy, this is not right, I'm your sister. I love you, you know that but not like this. I know you're sorry for, for doing what you did and it's ok. You need help Tommy. Please let us go see a doctor. I know you need it."

He didn't reply, merely got the cold gleam in his eye as she stood up, his hands balled into fists. He yelled at her, telling her that she was being an ungrateful bitch, that it was just that kind of behaviour that had made everyone hate her. Yes he was using that phrase, telling her how everyone had despised her choice to run away. To abandon them, Mum, Dad and himself. The sheer force of his rage was enough to subdue her and she found herself being curled up against the wall as he continued to hurl abuse at her. Lindsay couldn't reach him, not now, not in the state he was currently in, and she figured that he would hit her again if she tried doing so. As she grew quiet his temper got better. Kissing her cheek again and promising to be back soon. Before he left however he held out two pills, asking her to take them. Lindsay recoiled, once again feeling the terror well up inside her, but he made her take them and kept his hand firmly clasped over her mouth to make sure that she swallowed them. They were sleeping pills he told her, to make it easier on her as she had to be confined to the room. It was not to be mean that he did this, he further explained, but to keep her safe. He kissed her one more time, ordering her to tell him that she loved him before closing the door and locking it behind him.

Lindsay awoke with a start as Tommy returned. He was once again sitting down and caressing her cheek. He was beaming, telling her that there were still patriots in America. He recounted how he had run into an old friend from highschool, Jesse Cameron, who now owned a security firm and on hearing about Tommy's experience had offered him a job. Given his background with the Special Forces, Tommy would be made some kind of manager. Once again he wanted her to telll him that she loved him, and she repeated the words in a mechanical manner, making a mockery of their meaning but it seemed that Tommy was pleased enough with it.

She was desperately thirsty and in need of using the bathroom, hoping that he would leave her alone long enough to be able to get to a phone, or if failing that, making a run for it. There was a maple growing just outside it and she figured that if she could open the window and climb down she would be able to get away. The thought made her lighten up somewhat. She would be able to hide with the neighbours and then call Granddad. He could reason with Tommy and make him see that he needed help.

Lindsay's small hopes were however crushed as Tommy told her that while she of course would be allowed to go about her business he would go with her. Once again referring the whole matter to concern about her, not wanting her to accidentally hurt herself or doing anything stupid. He smiled, the same boyish smile that the old Tommy had smiled, as he told her that she needn't feel embarressed. He'd been a soldier and that there was nothing he hadn't seen or heard before.

She cried as she had to do that infront of him, the humiliation almost worse than when he had violated her earlier. When she was done he had stripped down, and gently led her to the showerstall, insisting that he'd be allowed to sponge her clean. Even though his actions in themselves were gentle, they made her tense up, feeling how wave after wave of disgust ran through her as he fondled her. He then had her kneel, like a good wife does, to clean him. She tried to protest but it was futile. She felt him grow harder as she tried to meet is request without actually doing so and as his arousal grew the harsher he became, until he hauled her to her feet, slamming her face against the tiled wall and entering her roughly from behind. She once again felt the sharp searing pain as he forced himself inside her and as he roughly sqeezed her breasts as he picked up the pace. Driving deep inside her until she felt like her insides were on fire. making her bite her lip until she could taste the metallic tingle of blood in her mouth. She felt him tense up and then with a grunt, spend himself inside her again.

He held her, so she wouldn't collapse to the floor as he once again sponged her clean. Telling her that while he could be rough it was not with malicious intent he had treated her like he had. He loved her afterall, she was his Angel, and he would never do anything to hurt her if she behaved herself. He smiled as he led her out of the shower and dried her off, telling her that while he didn't enjoy the way she had handled herself earlier it was all forgiven. He kissed her again, and added that now that it was the two of them he would appreciate, no the words he used was, demand to see that side of her as well. It was ok, he explained, that a wife strived to please her husband in the safe confines of their bedroom, and he further stated that it would be all the more enjoyable for her if she just showed a bit of willing.

After he had dried himself, Tommy led her into the master bedroom, rummaging through the closet until he found one of their mother's dresses, telling herself that from now on she would dress as befitted a good woman and not like a slut. He caressed her cheek as she sat naked on the bed, explaining that it had not been her fault that she had fallen into bad ways and while he didn't approve of it he had forgiven her for it. She reluctantly complied and was rewarded with a kiss on her cheek before Tommy left, locking the door with an audible click

Tom Paget

Tom smiled as he locked the door behind him, closing Lindsay into their parents' former and their own new bedroom. The blue dress of their mother had been one of his favorites, and though it was a size or so too big on Lindsay, he loved seeing it on her, it combining her own beauty with the fond memories of his childhood. Thinking about it being too big made Tom wonder if Lindsay sewed; if not, he would make sure she learned. Not only would it give her something to do when he was out at work and before he could trust her to be unsupervised, but it would be a useful skill for her to have, as well, given how torn he was sure his clothing would become. And the thought of that blue dress tailored to fit her every curve made Tom almost want to turn around, go back into the room, and make love to Lindsay again. But he had work to do, and while normal people might be willing to forego that, he was a soldier and an American and knew that he needed to work hard before he could reap the benefits, not vice-versa like so many liberals tried to preach.

Tom returned to the bathroom, collecting their discarded clothes to bring downstairs to the washroom for Lindsay to clean later, before returning to his room to get changed into a T-shirt and shorts, work clothes. As he did, he thought of their second round of lovemaking. It was the first time he had done it in a shower, and it was everything his adolescent fantasies about it had made him believe it would be. The slick skin, even slicker entrance to her from behind, pressing her up against the smooth ceramic walls; but the amazing joy and pride he felt as Lindsay had kneeled before him, cleaning him, telling her that she loved him...He knew all along that Lindsay was just a good girl who had gone astray, and the fact that she was letting him set her straight was all the evidence he needed to know that, as long as he was patient, she would become a proper American housewife. His proper American housewife.

Dressed in his work clothes, Tom made his way downstairs, opening the package he had gone to the hardware store for. It contained a large number of combination and padlocks of several sizes, as well as the hinge aparatus used to secure the lock to something that opened - like a door. Buying them at the hardware store might have drawn attention elsehwere, but not in this neighborhood, which valued privacy and construction hobbies equally. Pop had loved to build and destroy things over his spare time from his job as a mechanic, and Tom had of course taken a shine to his's father's lessons. After a quick trip into the garage to fetch some tools, and a brief second to will away the threat of stupid sentimental tears as he looked over Pop's workstation, Tom got to work.

Over the next two hours, Tom worked on putting the locks on the two doors that led to the outside (both inside and outside, for when he had to leave for work), as well as the door to the master bedroom, after a brief call to Lindsay within to not be afraid of any noises. Putting down his tools, he walked into Lindsay's room, looking around. She had taken most of her things with her to Canada, but a few of her books remained on the shelf, along with the other knicknacks of a teenaged girl and the clothes she had brought down with her. Tom went to them and started to flip through them. So immoral. His gaze lingered on some of her underwear, again feeling blood boiling at the thought of another man touching them. Well, that would never happen again. He considered plucking a few pairs out for her to wear for him once she was trained better, but shook himself out of that. That was dangerously close to letting his emotions run him, and that was not what Pop or the Army had taught him. He was beyond emotions. He had to be to become a survivor.

Walking back into the hallway, he installed another lock on the door to Lindsay's old room. Unlike the others, he doubted this would ever be opened again. The room contained nothing but mementos of Lindsay's past life, the life of sin and betrayal, and it was for her own good that she be allowed to touch, to remember, as little of that past life as possible. He would use the promise of letting her have access to things from the room as rewards for good behavior, but he promised himself he would never act on it - and soon, as soon as his Linds got used to her new life, she would stop caring. Besides, the thought of Lindsay wearing nothing but their mother's clothing continued to affect him rather strongly, although Tom forced those thoughts from his head. There would be time enough for them later, when they weren't as distracting.

He was about to get to work on the bathroom, when he heard the phone ring downstairs. He had reconnected that one phone line in the morning, so as not to draw suspicion should anyone call. He put down his tools and went to the kitchen to answer it. It was Grandfather William, calling to tell them that he and Grandmother Roberta were returning to Toronto early. Tom smiled as he listened. They were his biggest problems, Stan having gone home to Iowa with his family after the funeral. Tom had worried that they might drop by for an unannounced visit, but such a contingency had never developed, and now never would. Tom apologized for being unable to see them again, but explained he had a job interview and Lindsay was away visiting with old friends. William accepted it without any hint of suspicion, as did Roberta when she came on to wish his a fond farewell, as well as to repeat that they loved him and would always be there for him. Tom was genuinely touched, although it was dampened with the knowledge that they had never made such professions before. But it was a tenet of his Christian faith that people can and do change for the better. What else was he helping Lindsay to do?

As he hung up, Tom paused, then dialled the operator, getting a number. Soon, he was with a home protection company, ordering the placement of iron bars across the house's first-storey windows. The area had risen in crime rates the past few years, efflux from swollen Detroit, so there was nothing odd about his wanting additional protection, and that was one factor in him ordering it; he wouldn't be able to protect Lindsay constantly, and he wanted his cherished love to be as safe in her domestic castle as possible. It even turned out that, thanks to his new job as Jesse's security firm, he was able to get a discount.

With that out of the way, he returned upstairs to the bathroom door. Again, he paused. He was going to put a lock through the door, but a better idea struck, and he soon had the door off its hinges, stowing it in the basement before doing the same with the downstairs bathroom. While in the basement, he passed through a nearly-empty storage room, and another idea struck, this one lifted wholesale from a friend who had helped establish a detention facility in Iraq. He cleaned the rest of the junk from the room, unscrewing the lightbulb from the cieling - it was controlled from the outside, but he did not want her to be able to break it and cut herself. Another lock on the outside was a finishing touch.

Returning upstairs, he took all of the knives from the silverware drawers, as well as their cutting knives and scissors, and locked them in a separate cabinet. That was it. Putting the rest of the tools and spare locks away in the workstation in the garage, he returned to the house, locked the door behind him, and returned upstairs for a calisthenics session. He wanted to do a jog, but did not trust himself, not just yet, to leave Lindsay alone for so long. A quick prayer and Bible reading was followed by a shower to wash away the sweat (as well as that caused by the memory of Lindsay and his lovemaking in it...definitely something they would need to do again) before dressing himself once more in his normal clothes. And then it was back to the master bedroom.

Unlocking both the key and combination locks, he swung the door open to find Lindsay pacing the room, looking in tears. Smiling he approached her and she began to argue, before a stern glance and the look of irritation on his face seemed to wilt most of that, the rest quieting when he told her to be quiet. Then the cloud passed and he once more stepped up to her, cupping her tear-streaked face in his hands bringing it down to his own for a kiss.

"There, that's better, my Linds," he said, once more in control. "That was Grandfather and Grandmother on the phone. They're heading home early, and I told them we were unable to see them off in person. Uncle Stan and Aunt Janice returned home yesterday. We're all alone again."

That only seemed to make her cry more, which made Tom a bit angry, but he forced himself to stay calm and remember that this would take a while. "Please don't cry, love. I have something to show you. Several somethings. Come on."

Her hand firmly in his, he explained how he had added locks to the doors of importance, for her own good to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. He also pointed out her own door, telling her how if she was good, and only then, he would give her access to some of her own things. Next was the bathroom and its lack of door, again to make sure she didn't have any accidents unsupervised. She tensed up at that, and he remembered how shy she had been as he had watched her go, and he was forced to smile. "I really have seen it all, you know," he said, "although none of them have looked as pretty as you. I especially liked our lovemaking in the shower," he whispered into her ear as he pulled her down to his level.

That only made her talk some more about how she loved him, which made Tom happy to hear, and about how she wanted to be let go and how he needed to see a doctor, which only fueled his anger. Finally, as he was leading her down the stairs he snapped.

"I do not need to see a doctor, Linds. Only sissies who need someone to blame their own failings on see doctors," parroting his father's words. "And doctors were the ones who made me quit the Army. Look at me! I'm as healthy as anyone else is! And what's not right, our love? Bullshit! I love you, and it's that simple! You love me, you said it! We're the head of the family now, we're all that we have left, and I won't let you leave me alone again! I won't! You need me to save you from your lifestyle, to make you understand that you need to be a proper woman! Why aren't you..." he trailed off as he noticed that Lindsay was cowering slightly, and he was near tears again. He couldn't let himself show that weakness again.

"Come on, there's one more thing I need to show you," he said, taking her downstairs into the basement. One look at the padlocked storage room and he was certain she knew what he intended, and she began to struggle. Tom calmly stroked her hair, whispering.

"Sshhh...I'm not going to put you in there. At least not now. That's your punishment room, for if you're bad. If you go back to your old ways. If you don't accept your training. I know it seems harsh and I promise it'll be a last resort, and I want you to know it'll hurt me as much as it'll hurt you, but you need to know there will be consequences for not following my orders. Now come upstairs Linds, let's put this behind us."

He led her upstairs to sit at the kitchen table, fetching the phone and bringing it before her, careful to keep one hand on the reciever and one on the back of her neck. "Now, I want you to make a phone call. The one we talked about last night. To break it off with your Canadian boyfriend. We can settle the issue of your things later, but for now, I want you to tell him in no uncertain terms that it's over between you two forever, and that you're moving back home. I know you want to be a good girl, Linds, but just in case I'll have my hand on the hangup contact and the other right here." He squeezed her neck gently, moving his hand forward to caress her throat.

"But please don't make me do it," he asked, his voice almost a beg. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "But I know you love me, and I think you're beginning to understand this is for your own good, so I'm sure you'll do me proud." He beamed down at her.

Lindsay Paget

"Tommy please you can't make me do this. You can't..."

She felt him tightening the grip around her neck as he spoke softly, almost reasonable about what she was about to do, and stressing that while she may not like what he put her through it was for her own good and that he would not accept any disobedience from her. Leaning down to whisper that there may be a reward for her if she went about this as a good girl and didn't cause any trouble.

Lindsay's hand trembled as she dialled the number, feeling Tommy squeeze the back of her neck and watching, mesmerised how he kept his finger on the contact to stress his point. She felt herself freezing, not due to cold, the kitchen was fairly warm, but from fear. She heard the signals go through, one, two, three, before Patrick answered. He heard that she was in some distress. She tried to keep her voice steady but after just the initial phrase she found herself crying, telling him how much she loved him, which in turn made Tommy squeeze her neck harder and whisper to her to tell him that they were through. She tried voicing words but some part of her rebelled and the only thing she could bring herself to say to Patrick was that she loved him.

She watched as in slow-motion how Tommy pushed the contact down and snatched the receiver from her hands. He screamed at her, once again calling her an ungrateful bitch who couldn't be trusted. She yelped as he pulled her to her feet and more or less dragged her through the kitchen and up the stairs to their parent's bedroom. She tried to make him stop but he was beyond listening, the cold fury that emanated from him scared her further and she had to bite her lip not to cry out in fright and pain.

He hurled her into the room and then turned around to lock the door before facing her. Tommy's face was impassive as he strode across the floor and grabbed her wrist pulling her up and dragging her over to the bed. He sat down and without any apparent effort pulled her down across his lap, and grabbed both of her wrists in his left hand, squeezing them together. Tommy proceeded to raising the blue dress to expose her naked bottom, Lindsay had not been given any underwear and even when she had been left on her own she had rebelled against the thought of putting on her mother's panties.

She felt his hand on her cheeks, Tommy was almost caressing her before he landed a stinging blow to her unprotected bottom. The pain shot through her body, but worse was the humiliation. Lindsay had not been spanked since she was a little girl and now her brother was subjecting her to yet another humiliation. Lindsay felt his hand connect with her bottom at least fifteen times, she must have lost count and while she had struggled at first, the act in itself was enough to drain her of energy. As the last blow fell she was laying very still, passive as Tommy made her stand up.

He told her that she had been very bad, and that while she had made him upset and disappointed, here he looked more hurt than stern, he would forgive her in time. However in order for him to do so she would need to be more compliant. Holding her face between her hands he made her thank him for correcting her and further add that she loved him before he ordered her to stand in the corner of the room, her dress raised to expose her bottom to his view.

Lindsay was alternating between anger, fear and pain as she was made to stand there. She heard her brother moving a chair to sit down and further telling her to keep her head lowered. It didn't befit her to feel proud about her actions and that she'd do well to show a spot of humility. Once more he lashed out, telling her that her lack of humility and her disgraceful manner had brought shame and sorrow to their parents. She felt her cheeks burn with barely repressed anger as he continued his sermon, finally throwing all caution and turning around to face him.

"I hate you Tommy, you're just the same kind of, of pig that our father was. Yeah I know where you got it from. I hope he burns in Hell Tommy, God knows he deserves it. You're sick don't you understand it? You're sick and twisted. It's not normal what you're doing. It's a fucking crime Tommy, you raped me, your own sister. What's wrong with you?"

The instant she finished she understood that she had pushed him over the edge. He was standing up and with a movement so quick she didn't even see it he slapped her face, sending her sprawling to the floor. He was over her, ripping the dress from her body and punching her stomach once to knock the wind from her lungs. There was no way she could defend herself, seeing as he moved much faster than her and with a cold determination that she couldn't match. Lindsay was dizzy from the blow and further incapacitated from the punch, and he could hurl her onto the bed without her putting up any resistance. She curled up in foetal position her hands pressed to her face in case he was about to hit her again.

Lindsay heard him move closer, whimpering as she expected another blow to fall, but instead he sat down, caressing her face and gently removing her hands from her face. Once again his features had become softer and as he checked her face for any bruises he told her that he was sorry he had to hit her but that she ought not to provoke him in such a way. He told her that he understood that it was not the real Lindsay saying such things but the horrible person who had been fostered by the liberals and leftist at university, and while he was hurting from her accusations he understood that it wasn't his Angel who had said them. Tommy went on to tell her that they would have to resort to go through the spankings more often, even if she behaved they would still serve as prevention if she slipped back into her old ways.

He proceeded to kiss her, softly at first but becoming more aggressive as he fondled her breasts and making her lay down on her back. It made her sick but by now Lindsay was too afraid to put up any resistance. She watched him, on his insistence as he undressed and got back on the bed, but not before opening the drawer on what used to be their father's bedside table. He had take out a pistol which he showed her. The sight of the gun in her brother's hands made her freeze, thinking he would kill her. Tommy must have guessed her fears as he got down next to her, reassuring her that the gun was not loaded, but that he would keep it with him, to protect her. He held it in his hand as he proceeded to kiss her, running the cold metal along her line of her jaw and making her kiss the barrel as he got in between her legs.

Even though he had told her that the gun wasn't loaded it still scared her more than the impending rape did and she stammered as he brought the cold metal along the curve of her lip to make it stop.

"Please Tommy put the gun away. I'll be good just put it away please."

She was crying again as she watched him smile at her, telling her that she would have to trust him and that the gun was as much part of him as his hands and arms. He entered her again once again causing her to wince from the friction his member caused to her sore insides. He went slowly, resting on his left elbow as he kept the pistol to her face before dragging the muzzle down between her breasts and then back up her neck and chin until it rested on her lips. He thrust his hips down entering her deeper as he pried her lips apart, forcing her to accept the invasion of her mouth as well as her sex.

She was utterly destroyed there was no fight left in her as Tommy picked up the pace, thrusting harder inside her, grinding his pelvis against hers until he came yet again, filling her with his spendings and collapsing on top of her. She heard his breathing slowly becoming less laboured as he looked up and smiled at her. Telling her once again that she was his perfect Angel and that he was not angry with her. Once again she was made to tell him that she loved him, which prompted him to smile indulgently as he got of her and put the gun back in the drawer. He stretched his arms above his head as she once more curled up in a ball, fearful of what might come next. Lindsay knew there would be no end to it. He would continue to torment her until he had broken her completely. What would come next was to horrible to contemplate, and hard as she tried there was nothing Lindsay could do to block out the visions that flared before her eyes.

Tom Paget

Tom smiled down at Lindsay as he stretched above her, working the kinks out of his arms. She looked so beautiful curled up like that, like she was a cat relaxing after washing itself. His little sex kitten. Tom had never had as much sex in his life as he was having with Linds now. He had assumed he would get tired of her in that aspect, but he could see how foolish he had been. There were just so many ways they could enjoy their lovemaking; he had been so focused on repressing his weaker side and working to make a man out of himself that he had ignored the trollops throughout his life, save for the occasional fuck to empty his tubes as was natural for a man to need, but his tender lovemaking with his pretty Angel was opening his eyes to a new world. Take the pistol, Pop's old Colt M1911 service sidearm. It was the first gun he had ever fired, the gun that had help him eventually earn the Marksman tab in the Army, and Tom felt it was only appropriate that he use it to help Lindsay fire him.

Lindsay. He smiled again as he looked down at her huddled on the bed. She had been such a demon, but he couldn't stay mad at her. Not her, the real Linds. He wanted her to see, to accept, that what he was doing was for the best for both of them. Because if she didn't, he would have to stop being reasonable in his efforts to wean her off her bad side, and that would only make him feel more sad that she was refusing to accept his lessons on how to be his proper housewife. It wouldn't deter him, of course, but he would feel sad.

"Can you sew, Lindsay?" he asked softly, almost conversationally, as he stroked her side. She didn't answer, only sniffled again, and he reached down to take her chin into his hand, bringing her face up to look at him.

"I asked you a question, Lindsay. I will not tolerate your continuing rudeness and you will answer me whenever I ask you a question. Is that clear? Now, can you sew?"

A frightened, hesitant nod was his answer, and Tom had her say it, smiling when she barely whispered a 'yes.'

"Good. When I'm at work tomorrow, I want you to fix Mother's dress that you forced me to ruin." He pointed at the torn blue clothes lying on the floor. "That is my favorite dress of Mothers, and I plan on seeing you in it as often as possible. If you can, I also want you to work on making it fit you better. I want it to show off your curves. You're mine now, Lindsay, and as long as we're alone there is nothing wrong with a wife showing off for the husband who loves her and works so hard to support her, is there?"

He smiled, stroking her cheek again as she shuddered, and he once more forced her to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Linds, for hitting you like that. I really am, I mean it," he said earnestly, eyes begging her to believe him. "I just...I just can't control myself when your bad side comes out. It hurts me so much, right here," he took her hand and laid it over his heart, "when you say mean-spirited things like that. Unladylike, and un-American, and un-Christian. You need to learn to control your tongue, Lindsay. Mother never talked to Pop like that, and you can't talk to me like that either." He sighed, smiling slightly, and brought her head to rest on his lap, brushing her hair with his fingers.

"But I know that's not the real you doing that, it's the bad thoughts you got in Canada. My Linds never would act that way, and soon you won't either, once you learn your place. It's that knowledge that stops me from losing my temper. I just wish there was a way I could just have those thoughts, those bad memories, cut out of your head, leave only the real you, the good you, behind." He sighed again and his fingers traced invisible lines over her skull, as if marking down the areas he wanted emptied, before sitting up, pulling her into his arms. "Forgive me, Linds. Forgive me for punishing you like that. I don't want you mad at me."

He had to ask slightly harder, before she quietly, half-sobbed her fogiveness. "Thank you," he said, kissing her cheek. "Come on, let's get cleaned up so you can make dinner."

He carried her through the hall into the doorless bathroom, and soon their naked, soapy bodies were once more gliding over each other as he cleaned Lindsay, enjoying the touch of her breasts and vagina and anus under his wet and sudsy hands, before having her clean him as well. Amazingly, as she knelt before him under his firm insistence, Tom felt his penis begin to grow erect again, and Lindsay's loving ministrations did not help matters. Still, he did not mind, and even smiled down at Lindsay, glad she was begin to accept her role as wife of the house. He even let her take him into her mouth, with a bit of coaxing of course, and his thumbs gently caressing her closed eyelids as a subtle, loving reminder for her to behave. She sputtered and coughed and he groaned his love for her as he climaxed, and she cleaned him up again, Tom told her how proud of her he was, although he was expecting in the future, she swallow everything, wasting nothing of what her husband graced her with.

They stepped out of the shower and Tom dried himself before drying her. A wife should be tended to by her husband where it mattered the most, and he promised himself again that his Linds would not want for anything. At least, once she learned her lessons she would. What was her stupid 'freedom' and 'equality' when it meant being lonely, heretical, ungodly, unpatriotic?

He gently led her back into their master bedroom. "I want you to get dolled up now, Linds. Not that I don't find you pretty, but I want you to look splendid for our first true night as a couple." He selected a necklace, earrings, and some bracelets from Mother's jewelry box, as well as a pair of her high heels. "Put these on, and nothing else," he said sternly, once more pointing to the dress on the floor. "Until you fix that, and learn your place, you won't be allowed to wear clothes around the house. That is your punishment for making me angry earlier. And as you won't be able to leave the house until much later, you really won't be able to wear clothes until you show me you've improved...Oh, and make sure you do up your hair and some makeup, too. Then come down when you're done, and start dinner."

He kissed her cheek, smiling at her in the reflection of their mother's mirror. "I really do love you, Linds. I want you to realize that." And with that, he walked back into his room, getting dressed into casual clothes, trousers with an Army T-shirt. On the way back downstairs, he paused at their bedroom to gently admonish Lindsay for not even moving.

Once downstairs, Tom went back into the garage for the workshop. He was a bit nervous about leaving Lindsay alone when he went to work tomorrow, and likely would for a few more weeks. He had had another idea to keep her safe while he was away. Taking out a hammer and a bag of nails, he proceeded to nail shut the windows all along the first floor and, on a second thought, headed upstairs to do the same to the windows there as well. On the way up, he passed Lindsay, who had finally followed his orders.

"You look so beautiful, honey," he said, his eyes wandering over her elegant, nude form, and he unconsciously licked his lips, his erection forming again. However, he resisted, having to work to do, instead of just kissing her on the neck. "Everything you need should be unlocked," he said. "If you need anything, you know you just need to ask and I'll put down whatever I'm doing for you." It was true enough, he really did love Lindsay enough to do nearly anything for her, but the hidden meaning was that he was busy and that the whole point of a wife's duties was so that a man wouldn't need to do them.

He finished upstairs quick enough, there being less windows, and returned downstairs, putting the tools away and sitting down to watch Fox News while Lindsay cooked, at long last coming in and quietly telling him that dinner was ready. He went into the dining room, grinning as he saw the food prepared before him. A dead horse would beat the MREs he had had in the service, and Lindsay's cooking was, if not the best, definitely adequate. She could learn to cook better once he had trained her to accept her position; Tom was patient, and once she had accepted, she would not lack time. It wasn't like either of them had children to worry about, at least not yet.

After they had finished eating - Tom heartily, Lindsay sparingly, and he had forced to eat more under his watchful eye - she had cleaned up as he watched more Fox, agreeing with everything O'Reilley had to say. Before long he heard the dishwasher start and walked in to find Lindsay sitting at the table staring longingly at the disconnected phone. Tom guessed she had tried to use it before he had entered, or was about to; he was just glad she had done so without him seeing, he did not want to have to subject himself to punishing her again.

He walked over, taking her hand. "Come on, Linds. I have an early day tomorrow. Time for bed." He pulled her upstairs to their room, where she removed her jewelry and shoes and hairpins as he stripped, before taking her back into the bathroom, pointing at the toilet.

"I know you haven't gone yet," he said, pushing her onto the seat. "Don't be embarassed, honey. Just let it all out, I need to know you aren't stuffed up." When at last she was done, he told her to stand in front of the toilet, facing away from him, bending over and spreading. She was tense, obviously expecting another session of lovemaking, but he had other plans. Going to the medicine cabinet, he withdrew a thick thermometer and a jar of vaseline. Coating one index finger with it, he caressed her rosebud, before slowly pushing in, past one knuckle, then a second, finally to the end of his finger, twisting it around before pulling out. All the while Lindsay whimpered quietly, and Tom comforted her, his free hand rubbing her back.

He picked up the thermometer, slowly pushing it into her backside, twirling it in circles as he did so. "Stay still Linds, it'll be over in two minutes. I just need to make sure you stay healthy. You're my woman, Linds, and a man has a responsibility to make sure his woman stays healthy, especially since we can't quite risk letting you see a doctor now, can we? They all just want to take your money and sell you expensive drugs anyway. Pop never saw a doctor, and neither did Mom when she lived with him. Home births, even. I'll expect the same from my woman, Lindsay." He continued to twist the thermometer inside her until the time was up, and he pulled it out, making sure her temperature was normal before washing it and his hands and putting it away.

"Now that that's done, let's go to bed," he whispered in her ear, taking her wrist and guiding her into their bedroom. Pausing only to double-lock the door to ensure she didn't try to sleepwalk out of the house during their night, he lay down on his side of the bed, smiling at her.

"You really do look beautiful, Linds," he said, feeling shy again, as if he was becoming a child once more. "I...will you make love to me? Really get into it, I mean. I don't mind you just lying there when we make love, I really don't, it speaks of how chaste you're becoming. But...but I want you to enjoy it, too, as much as I do. I want you to get into it, work at it, cum from it. Come here, Lindsay, make love with me. Come here. Come here!" His voice rose from shy pleading to a cold order as his older sister stood there, nude and terrified.

Lindsay Paget

Disgust, fright and shame welled up in her as she heard Tommy's words. Be it that she had submitted but she would never bring herself to enjoy what he was doing to her. She edged away until she felt the door against her back. She could see how he changed posture as his temper flared again, getting ready to pounce at her. Without being able to control her actions she raised her arms in a feeble attempt to protect herself as he stalked closer. She hurt something terribly as well as the emotional distress that his abuse had caused her.

"Tommy please don't, I can't do it." She held her eyes closed as she felt his presence just inches away from her. "It's sick don't you see it. You're sick just like dad..."

Once again the flat of his hand connected with her face, then his hand closing around her throat choking her. He kept his voice level as he explained that he could see through her, that it wasn't his Lindsay saying such things and while it hurt him to have to punish her, he was nonetheless forced to do so in order to root out the bad influences. Tommy shifted his grip as he pushed her towards the bed and with a kick to the back of her knees, sent her sprawling onto it. She tried to get up but a slap to her bottom and a stern command to remain still. She heard him rummage through the closet and then address her again; telling her that while he didn't take any pleasure in what he was about to do it was still necessary. She tried pleading with him again but was cut short as he landed another blow to her bottom. The pain that shot through her was almost unbearable, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself from screaming. Meanwhile Tommy explained that it was their father's belt he was using and that she ought to show more respect being disciplined with it.

Lindsay had lost count of how many times he had struck her before he finished. He hung the belt back on the hook on the closet door before retrieving a tube of cooling balm which he applied to her sore cheeks. By now she was past the point of caring that his gentle ministrations slowly became more aggressive as he rubbed the balm into her skin, fondling her cheeks and trailing his fingers down between them and her legs. He pulled her hair, yanking her head to the side as he growled that if she persisted in behaving like a whore then he saw no other way than to treat her like one. She felt him getting on top of her, fumbling for a moment before he entered her again, only this time his intent was different. Once again she felt a horrible surge of pain run through her as he stretched her out, forcing her to accept the intrusion. She willed herself not to cry, not to give him that satisfaction, but her refusal to yield only provoked him to thrust harder inside her, seemingly aiming to hurt her more, even biting her shoulder as he reached his climax, spending his emissions inside her. He made sure she wasn’t bleeding before he pulled her close to him, telling her that the act he’d just committed was meant as a punishment, but that she in time would grow used to it and perhaps even grow to like it. Tommy held her close as he spoke, occasionally kissing her forehead and reassuring that it would be alright if she could just learn to behave.

She must have fallen asleep out of sheer exertion, tossing and turning as she experienced the same horrors over and over again, only to be woken by Tommy at 5:30. Not quite aware of what happened as he gently ushered her to the shower making her stand under the icy spray. He told her that it would teach her how to focus. He finally turned the thermostat before stepping inside and ordering her to clean him as he had taught her to do. She kneeled as she went through the motions, lathering his body, paying special attention to his manhood. Even though Lindsay kept her eyes averted she could feel how he was smiling, the predatory smile that she had come to fear these last days. He told her to look at her began rubbing his soapy hands over her face, telling her to keep her eyes open. The soap stung her but as she tried to blink it away he slapped her, telling her that she had deserved it and that she ought to take her correction like a good wife. He proceeded to let her rinse him before she had to take him in her mouth. Tommy’s hands holding her head as his thrust inside her, making her gag. He continued to push forcing his entire length inside her, his thumbs on her eyelids, pressing harder than he had done before. It didn’t take long for him to cum and he filled her mouth while pinching her nose shut, ordering her to swallow what he gave her.

He stepped out, leaving her on the floor retching, telling her that he expected her downstairs wearing the heels and make-up to prepare breakfast for him. She complied, moving slowly as she got out of the shower and dried herself off before applying the make-up under his watchful eyes. He explained that as she embraced her new position, she would be required to do this without him watching her. She tried pleading with him to at least give her some privacy as she needed to use the toilet, and once again he told her that it was nothing new to him and that she ought not to concern herself with such petty details. After all he loved her and there ought to be no secrets between them.

As she was finished, Tommy ushered her downstairs, telling her that he expected a proper breakfast and that she ought to eat more than she had done during dinner. Given that she had not been able to take proper care of herself it was now up to him to do so, and he stressed that he would be very thorough.

Lindsay went through the preparations like she was in a trance, frying eggs and bacon as well as brewing a pot of coffee for him. The humiliation and the fright so strong that it seemed to have stalled her ability to think clearly. Added to this was the constant pain that she experienced. She could feel tears forming as she realised that there would be no end to this, that there was no way to try reason with Tommy anymore. For a second she wondered what had happened to him that had made him change into the monster he now was. Had he done things like this in Iraq? Had he raped or tortured? Lindsay knew that there had been cases reported, and she had reacted with disgust to them. Still she had thought it impossible to believe that her brother would have been able to commit such acts, at least until yesterday that was.

As she turned to move the frying pan of the cooker and as she did she sent a bottle to the floor where it broke in two almost perfect halves. Tommy would be mad at her of course and she hurriedly bent down to pick it up. She could feel the sharp edge of the glass and suddenly she knew what she had to do. She could hear her brother call out, followed by the footsteps on the stairs. She breathed heavily as she picked up the bottle by its neck and as he entered the kitchen she pushed the sharp end against her throat.

“Tommy don’t come any closer. One step and I’ll push it in. I’ll do it!”

She had screamed the last sentence at him as she watched him slowly circle her, trying to make her put the bottle away. He told her that she did not have the guts to do it and that she was bluffing.

“Don’t Tommy, I’ll do it!”

She had screamed again and this time pushed the bottle into her skin, feeling it break and warmth as two rivulets of blood ran down her neck.

“Would you rather have me kill myself than letting me go?”

There was a pleading tone to her voice as he continued to circle her, telling her that she was acting foolish and that she didn’t mean what she was saying. She turned to keep her eyes on him as he moved closer still, prompting her to push the bottle more firmly against her skin. Lindsay closed her eyes for a second, thinking about Patrick and her grandparents. She hoped that they would understand, as she pushed the sharp edge of the bottle to her throat again, intent on ending it there and then.

Tom Paget

Tom froze as Lindsay made her threats, holding the broken glass up to her neck, screaming and jabbering about taking her life. No matter how much he pleaded, she continued to threaten, growing more and more hysterical, and even Tom paused as he saw the two small streams of blood flow from the wounds around her neck, growing worried for the first time that she might actually do it. Then, Lindsay made her mistake: she closed her eyes. In an instant, acting on years of training and living in situations where flash-reactions were vital, Tom had closed the gap between them, taking the bottle in his hands and pulling out before tossing it into the sink, making sure that he did not cause a larger wound to appear in his sister.

Ignoring her hysterical sobbing - no doubt joy that her protector had saved her again, even if it would take her a while to realize it - Tom took both of Lindsay's wrists in a hand, holding them firmly while using his other hand to turn her neck, examining her wounds. They did not look as deep, not as much as he had feared initially, and he felt a bit foolish for letting his concern for his sister override his trained composure on the matter. But then again, he did love her, and lovers did silly things sometimes. He took a wad of paper towels and held them against her neck to stop the bleeding, before finally talking to her.

"What the hell were you thinking, Linds?" he asked, quietly and sternly. "Don't you know that suicide is a cardinal sin? You would go straight to Hell, no chance at redemption, at joining Pop and me. No, of course you wouldn't know that." Tom shook his head sadly, leaning in to kiss her forehead, ignoring how she flinched away from him, now openly sobbing.

"You're so confused, so tormented at the 'modern' lifestyle that has been forced on you by your liberal 'friends.' Don't you see how they're just hurting you, Linds? They made you do this, not you. If it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be confused enough to try to do something like this when I'm just trying to bring you back to a normal lifestyle."

Tom sighed again, sadly. "But I will still ahve to punish you for this, Linds, my love. I'm very sorry. I don't want to, but I need to teach you that this resisting my love is wrong. It's going to hurt me more than it will hurt you, Linds, I promise."

She flinched, closing her eyes, obviously expecting a blow, but Tom merely smiled, patting her head and bringing her upstairs to the bathroom, where he cleaned her wounds with rubbing alcohol before placing bandages on it. Tenderly stroking her cheek, whispering in her ear, how much he loved her and how much her resistance made him not angry, but sad, he brought her back into their bedroom, having her strip her jewelry and heels off. As much as he enjoyed how truly beautiful and ladylike she looked in them, Tom did not want to give Lindsay any more potential tools to steal her life with - yes, steal; he has her man, she was no longer living in sin with her disgusting Canadian rapist; therefore, her life was his. He had hoped to leave her in the house to do chores while he was at work; now, he would have to rethink things. Already a solution was presenting itself, one she would perhaps not like; but that was immaterial, no one liked to be punished, but this was for her own good, and she had shown that she would resist all lesser steps.

Securely tying her to their bed, she seemed to still be in a state of shock, only weakly struggling near the end, long after it was too late for her to do anything. Promising her that she would only be there for a few minutes, Tom kissed her, locking the bedroom door on the way out for good measure. Hurrying into the garage, he picked up a few tools from the workstation, before heading into the basement. In the punishment cell, he screwed in a new lightbulb into the cieling, then took a 'wirecage' and, using the power screwdriver, secured it around the bulb. Replacing it would be a nightmare, but as long as it was in, the cell's occupant would be unable to touch - or break, or remove - the bulb. Replacing the tools, he returned to the bathroom, fetching a bucket and his sleeping pills and placing them in the cell, followed by a boombox he found in the garage, and after testing it to ensure that it still worked, he placed it just outside the cell, plugging it into a wall socket but not yet turning it on.

Returning upstairs, he unlocked their bedroom, greeting Linds with a kiss to the cheek that she tried but was unable to avoid. He untied her, carefully keeping her in front of him within arm's reach as he guided her downstairs, all the while telling her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, and how he didn't know what he would do if anything would happen to her. That was why he needed to train her to ignore the bad impulses she felt, to make her realize how evil her Canadian friends had been to brainwash her like this. He only needed to undo her brainwashing. She had tensed up at that, but only began to really struggle when Tom started to guide her into the basement. She tried to escape, but his hands instantly clamped onto her forearms, forcing her to continue towards the punishment cell.

"I wanted to let you have the run of the house while I was gone, Linds, like a good houswife, but your frightening antics up there have forced me that you might hurt yourself when left alone," he said sadly, pushing her into the small cement cubicle, barely large enough for her to lie down when curled up. "Therefore, until you learn to behave, when I am at work you will spend your days in here, to reflect on how to be a proper wife for me. I really don't ask for much, Linds," he said, his voice breaking, and Tom took a second to take a deep, steadying breath. "I really don't ask for much, Linds, and when you repay my generosity for helping to cure you by trying to...to kill yourself...It hurts me, Linds. It hurts me."

His hands began stroking her back at that, and after a few seconds he forced her around and down onto her knees before him, his hardening member already freed from his pants. He wanted desperately to feel himself inside her mouth again, but if she was willing to do something like what she had tried to do to herself, then Tom wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't try to bite his manhood, and that just might push him over the edge from disappointment to anger. So instead, he held her head facing him with one hand, while he pleased himself with the other. Masturbation was a sin, but Tom derived no pleasure from this; he was doing it purely to help Lindsay, to punish her, and the Lord knew he hated to punish his true love. But there were plenty of things he didn't like to do but did because it was his duty; this was but one of them. Soldiers could not pick and choose; they could only obey.

Tom's strokes were quick and sure, and it was only a few minutes before he came. When he felt he was almost there, he quickly used his other hand to position Lindsay's head; his first spurt was aimed true and shot up one of her nostrils, the second shot up her other, and as she snorted and bucked with the stinging sensation of her man's seed in her nasal cavity, Tom let the remainder wash over her face, baptising her into her punishment. He had done this deliberately; her belly was already full of his seed, and now she would wear it on her face, be unable to get rid of the overbearing smell of it, throughout her punishment.

As he wiped his member on her hair and tucked it back inside his pants, Tom pointed to the bucket in the cell's corner. "If you must piss or shit" - he noted the look of disgust and embarassment on her face at the words - "use the bucket. If there is anything on the floor when I let you out, I will have you lick it up. That is not an idle threat, Linds. I don't make idle threats. You should know that by now. Now, open up." Forcing her mouth open, he picked up the bottle he had brought down before, forcing a single sleeping pill into her mouth, holding it closed until he felt it pass through her throat.

"Good girl," he said, a hint of warmth in his voice once more. "Now, I'll let you out in twelve hours." Closing and locking the cell door behind her, he left the light switch on, and positioning the boombox up next to the door, turned it on, boosting the volume to max as it began to play one of Pop's gospel CDs on a repeating loop. He had given her the single sleeping pill on purpose; not enough to put her out, it would at least make her wish for sleep, something the harsh light and loud music would make impossible, thus help speed along her breaking. He hated to think of his Linds in such a way, but she had left him with no choice. He had to break her of these destructive, hurtful habits. The choice of music was more a whim than anything else; he hoped the loud, never-ending cycle of Christian music might help her accept the Lord she had rejected.

But enough dawdling. Tom returned upstairs, locking the basement door and placing a heavy chair against it, for good measure. He looked around the kitchen, sighing. He'd have to deal with this later. For now, he turned off the stove and lights, downed the rest of the coffee in a scalding gulp, and went outside, double-locking the doors as a final paranoid measure against an escape Linds could never carry through. He didn't have time to eat, but then again, there were times he had gone through far worse for far longer with nothing to eat, either.

He drove to Jesse's security firm, scrupulously staying within the speed limit dispite the fact that he was already late. Tom hated, hated being late for anything, even something unpleasant, but the law was the law and was there for a reason. If he started believing that one law could be broken so that he could avoid breaking another rule, then, what sort of social anarchy and moral relativism would that unleash? Certainly not the society he was trying to uphold and protect, between his Army service and his reeducation of Lindsay.

Jesse was very understanding of him being late, especially after Tom explained that Lindsay was still having problems facing their parents' deaths. Jesse knew Tom was an upstanding patriot and trusted his word when he promised to be on time in the future; he even offered to give Tom another few days to help Lindsay, which Tom graciously declined. He had to work sometime, and if he decided that he could just slack off and train Lindsay, that would start him down a slippery slope.

The first day of work was not that bad, Tom just meeting with the people he would be working with, filling out employment and security papers, taking the tour. Before he knew it, the day was over, and Tom was saying goodbye to the coworkers he'd be dealing with. Most seemed a decent sort, a fair number of ex-servicemen and most of them devout and patriotics anyways. He had even gotten an advanced paycheck which he hurried to cash. He wasn't a spendthrift, not by an means, but Tom did have his sister to worry over, and given her latest antics, he knew that he would need to buy a few more supplies to help with her. Best to get that out of the way, first.

Keeping his eyes open, Tom soon found a sex shop. Swallowing his pride and his disgust, he forced himself to walk in, making his selections as quickly as possible: a pair of strong, yet padded, handcuffs that would withstand attempts to break them, yet not cut off circulation. A matching set of ankle-cuffs that could be attached to the handcuffs to totally immobilize her. He planned on using those on her tomorrow when she was in her cell. A padded leather collar and leash, useful for guiding her around. Pop had always said she needed to be kept on a firm leash. And finally, more afterthought than anything, a ring gag. Teach her that a woman's mouth was made for accepting things into it, not for letting words come out. Tom paid with cash (not wanting such a shameful record for his credit-card billing), ignoring looking or even speaking to the cashier, sure that he was a pervert. Only the knowledge that he could esily prevent the homo should he try anything gave Tom the assurance needed to finish the transaction, barely stopping himself from running out of the store. He hated giving money to such a collection of perverts as the owners of that disgusting Babylon, but he justified it with the fact that it was the absolute only time he would ever enter into such an establishment, and that using those immoral devices for the just, holy cause of curing Lindsay would redeem both them and himself for entering the store.

He stopped at a fast-food restaurant on the way back. He was no gourmand, and such blue-collar heartland food was good enough for him. Arriving back home, he saw that the service he had called the other day had arrived, installing the bars across the first floor windows. Excellent service. Tom practically beamed. Perhaps this country was not getting as run-down as he thought.

Bringing his training tools inside, he laid them on his bed, studiosly ignoring the desire he felt to go down and check on Linds. He had said twelve hours; to go down earlier would be not only to show weakness to her, but to himself, something he absolutely would not do. Instead, he busied himself with cleaning up the mess Linds had made in the kitchen, being sure to pick up even the smallest glass shard. It was woman's work, of course, but Tom didn't mind doing it to use up time, especially since his woman couldn't exactly be trusted around glass shards.

After that, he did his calisthenics, then went out for a ten-mile jog around the neighborhood. A leisurely shower, Bible and newspaper reading, a quick call to Grandfather and Grandmother to ensure their safe arrival home, some Fox News, and finally, at long last, the twelve hours were up, and Tom found himself heading downstairs to check on his sister, hoping that her first punishment session had started to do some good.

Lindsay Paget

Lindsay could hear the key turn in the lock as Tommy shut the door, and she guessed that he had wedged something in front of it to further prevent her from escaping. The sharp light from the bulb, no encased in a wire-mesh hurt her eyes, and while she drowsy from the pill there was no way she could fall asleep due to the loud blaring from the boom box.

It was not that she knew how torture worked, but having been a member of the local Amnesty International chapter at her university she understood the basics. Deprivation of sleep in order to wear down any resistance, and make him or her more susceptible to whatever influences the captor wanted to instil. There was no furniture in the holding cell, so she had to resort to leaning against the wall. The concrete wall radiated cold and within a few minutes she was shivering. The music, kept blaring at an impossibly loud volume, forcing her to clamp her hands over her ears to try and block some of it out. She kept her eyes firmly shut, trying to fight the sensory overload that was hurled at her by trying to keep some disciplined thought. She could fight it, she had to believe as much if she wasn’t going to lose her wits entirely. Thus she remained in that position, hugging her legs for what little warmth it did and trying to keep focused. She knew her capacity, knew that she was resilient enough to be able to ride this out. Perhaps she could be able to influence Tommy to go see a doctor, and if nothing else helped, she’d have to resort to more drastic measures. She didn’t particularly look forward to it but she knew that while she still loved him, he was in desperate need of help, even if he didn’t understand that himself.

The hours wore on, and while Lindsay had been able to keep her resistance up for some time, fatigue slowly set in and made it impossible for her to try and block out the sounds and the harsh light of her prison. She must have fallen into uneasy sleep at some point, waking up as she felt her head lolling to the side, jerking her back to consciousness. She was hurting from the uncomfortable position she had been maintaining as well as being parched. Tommy hadn’t left her with anything to drink and while she tried to suppress the thirst, it only grew worse until she could think of little else. As the minutes passed, she could feel the numb pain at her temples, a clear sign of dehydration. She felt more and more exposed and what little resolve she had managed to gather was quickly evaporating.

Once more Lindsay fell into uneasy sleep, not wholly capable of shutting out the sound of the music, nor the light in her cell. She had taken a moment to investigate the wire-mesh that surrounded the light bulb and realised that it was too fine but also to sturdy to prevent her from breaking it. Besides, a small part of her knew that if she had managed to do so, Tommy would punish her. Lindsay could recognise the same motivation in him as she had seen in their father. Tomas Paget Senior had instilled in his family the notion that his Authority must never be questioned and that had put him and Lindsay at ends with each other for as long as she could remember.

She flinched as she heard the scraping of furniture being moved and then the door opening. Squinting as Tommy entered and roughly pulled her to her feet. Pushing her against the wall and roughly parting her legs with his foot while he examined her body. He told her calmly that he was just making sure she hadn’t injured herself. He proceeded to turn her to face the wall and extending the same inspection to her back, brushing some dirty from her thighs and bottom while telling her that it didn’t do for her to be dirty when around him. Lindsay wanted to scream at him, but realised that it would not help her, better keep her mouth shut and play along until some chance to either escape or get into a position where she could gain some leverage.

Tom led her upstairs, taking his time to show her the newly installed locks on the doors as well as the bars covering every window on the ground floor. He kept telling her that it was for her sake, to make sure that she was secure and protected from the outside world, even trying to portray it as the castle of the fairy tale princess, safe and secure from the dragons.
Her brother’s tone was making shivers running down her spine. He must be mad, there was no other explanation to his current delusions. Once again Lindsay wondered what had happened to him in Iraq. She was certain that he had committed rape before, as well as having tortured people.

Lindsay braced herself as he ushered her into the bathroom and started to undress. Smiling as he told her that he’d been looking forward to spend some quality time with her and that they should make the most of it. He gently led her inside the shower stall and ran the tap, icy cold at first almost making her scream. Tommy looked at her sternly as he told her that while he understood that it would be unpleasant, she needed to control herself. A good woman did not let such trifles as a cold shower affect her posture. She was shaking with cold as he finally turned on the hot water and stepping in beside her. His hands went to her breasts almost immediately, roughly squeezing them making her wince. Tommy silenced her with a rough kiss, pushing his tongue inside her mouth and muffling her protestations. He continued to kiss her as he pushed her up against the tiled wall, placing her hands between his legs to stroke him.

She protested, trying to tell him how much it hurt every time he forced himself onto her but there was no appeal. He explained again, almost like one would try to explain something very simple to a rather daft child, that it was her duty to make herself available whenever he wanted to exercise his conjugal rights. He forced her legs apart further and in one fluid motion entered her, banging her head against the tiles as he picked up the pace.

He didn’t seem to care that he was hurting her, and she realised that the more she voiced her pain, the harder he seemed to be trying to inflict more pain. He finally climaxed and for a second he stood limp, leaning against her as he got his breath back. He withdrew from her and began sponging her again, telling her that it was her own fault if she was hurting or even bled. If she could just have tried to show a bit of love for him as well it would work out just fine and she wouldn’t have to be in pain as they made love.

She was still dizzy from the time spent in the cell, as well as aching from the rape she had sustained. After having dried himself and Lindsay, he led her to the bedroom, once more demanding that she’d put some make-up and the pearls on as he required her to look good while she prepared dinner. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to protest, a sharp look silenced her and she complied with his orders. He was standing just behind her, his hands held on the small of her back as she applied the mascara and lipstick. He kissed her cheek and with some reverence placed the pearls around her neck and pointed to the heels standing next to the dresser. He told her that for the time being she would not be allowed to wear a dress, not until she had repaired the blue one which she had forced him to rip to shreds.

Tommy had bought some groceries, and instructed her as to how he wanted them cooked. The steak rare and the potatoes peeled boiled and served with butter. Her stomach revolted to the choice but there was little she could do right now, she knew she needed to eat, but not even such a simple act was for her to control. Tommy made her cut the food in dainty portions and made sure that she chewed it properly before swallowing. When she protested he lashed out, slapping her face once more telling her that she ought to be grateful for his attempts to make a proper lady out of her. He kept on lecturing her, telling her that while it hurt him to be forced to take on such drastic measures she must understand that it was necessary in order to save her from herself.

She was putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher as she popped the question. It was probably suicidal to do so but she needed to get her suspicions confirmed. Turning to him as she asked whether she was the first person he’d raped or if there had been others in Iraq? She expected him to lash out but to her surprise he kept himself reasonably calm. Lashing out in a tirade that it was just typical of the liberal elements to try and brandish the servicemen as being rapists because they themselves didn’t have the stomach for the things that needed to be done. War was not pleasant, he explained, but if there had been any rapes it was probably the Iraqis themselves who did it and put the blame on the decent American soldiers.

He allowed her to finish her task before taking her arm and roughly pulling her upstairs. Telling her that he would not suffer to hear more such things from her and if it happened again he would be forced to take measures. It was time that she realised what she was and started to be proud of it.

Tom Paget

The fact that Tom allowed his Lindsey to finish cleaning up after dinner and the horrible, hurtful lie she had asked was a testament to the resolve he had built up. The dishes would not clean themselves, and it would not do for her to learn that every time she made a transgression of that sort that she could escape her domestic duties. Nevertheless, he was fuming on the inside, and the instant she was finished, his hand was clamped around her arm in as if a steel vise, dragging her upstairs to their bedroom, ignoring her cries of pain as he pulled her arm and she stumbled on her high heels. Stupid little girl. If she hadn't tried to pretend to be a man - what else did liberalism do to women, anyways? - she would have learned to walk like a proper woman anyways. In a few years, he was sure that she would grow used to the proper heels of a lady. Mother had, to the point that it hurt her to walk without them, and Tom was sure that his Linds' slender legs would modify even faster.

Reaching their room, Tom threw her onto the bed. "You know the drill by now, Lindsey, or at least you should. Punishment position." She started to rise up, to plead, and he snapped again, backhanding her. She had the guts, the balls, to suggest he and the other thousands of American heroes fighting for her worthless liberal friends raped and pillaged like the Muslims they were fighting against, and then thought that she could somehow batter her eyes at him and get out of any punishment? Tom loved her, loved her dearly, but Lindsey was just such an utterly stupid little cunt. She cried out and winced, and looked like she was about to argue again, but as Tom raised his hand for a second blow, she flinched and assumed the position. She couldn't see him, but he smiled, reaching over to gently rub her backside.

"See, Linds? You're able to learn. I'm sorry about hitting you, but you need to learn not to argue with me. You said very, very bad things about me and about our soldiers and Commander-in-Chief. And for that, you need to be punished. I want you to know I don't take any pleasure from this, you know that, but this is the only way you seem to respond to your problems. I've gone easy on you so far, baby, but I can't stay soft on you forever. I think this time I may actually hurt you." She was whimpering now, begging him to stop, asking him to get help, that as long as he went to a doctor and got checked out she wouldn't tell anyone, but he smiled, kissing her gently before going to retireve Pop's studded leathe belt. He gently thwacked her back a few sides, getting warmed up and giving her a hint of what was to come, before laying into her.

He continued a full ten minutes, putting all of his Army-trained, Pop-inherited force into it, admiring the way her bottom shaked and quivered and slowly turned red, then dark, and finally bloody stripes emerging. Tom felt a small tear trickle down his face as he worked through Lindsey's screams. He hated to hear her scream, hated to be causing it, and if anyone else currently alive had been the one making her yell and shout, he would have killed them slowly and painfully for making his beloved Linds hurt. But she was his sister, his woman, his lover, his property, and God had made him have to punish her for violating his sanctity. It still did not make the hurt in his heart go away, and Tom sincerely wanted to make sure he had to punish her as few times as possible in the future. Which was what gave him the next idea. She had been a smart girl, enjoyed the lies of psychology and philosophy and the other mistruths liberals and intelligentsia invented to fill the hole in their lives their lack of faith caused. Perhaps it was time he started using her love of her intellect against her.

After ten minutes, Tom tossed the belt aside, looking down on her red, swollen, bruised, and striped (to say the least) ass. Without giving her any time, he shovd her down onto the bed, sitting down on that ass, grinding his heels into it, ignoring - forcing himself to ignore - her cries, as he reached below the bed to the icebok he had seen there. No doubt something his overly-romantic mother had gotten to store champagne for a evening alone, it likely had not seen much use outside of perhaps holding Pop's beer on weekends. But that did not concern Tom; what did was what was inside. Pulling out the icepick, he trailed it up Lindsey's spine, bringing it before her, her struggling and begging and sobbing suddenly stopping in a paroxysm of fear he could smell even from above.

"Lindsey, you've said some very bad things about me," he said softly, almost tenderly bringing the sharp point of the icepick down across her cheek, slowly stroking, following her contours. "I can only imagine what lies your mind has been filled with to poison you against me like that." The icepick went up over her forehead, lingering for a second, idling. "I'm trying and trying so hard to teach you that what you say and think are wrong, are just your college intellectual brainwashing." Finally it traced down her nose, looping around a nostril, slowly, as if debating whether to head in to what was beyond. "But you just ignore me. It hurts me, Linds, it really does, and it frustrates me." The pick was circling her left eye now, then her right. "I'm running out of options. I know you love me, deep inside, but it's hidden by what they did to you. If I could only...un-brainwash you. Cut out the parts of you that were posioned. Just leave your love and loyalty and obediance behind, nothing else, none of that learning or hurtful memories or that evil mouth of yours left."

The pick was hovering over a tearduct now, Lindsey frozen; Tom could feel warm tears dripping down her cheek as she begged him in an unsteady voice not to do it, to please not do it, to remember their love, that she'd remember, she'd be a good girl now.

"Does that mean you won't ever mention such hurtful things again? That you'll follow my orders? I'm only trying to help you, Lindsey. I want to help you. I don't want it to come down to this, Lindsey, but you don't react to anything else I do."

She was sobbing now, promising she'd be good, she'd obey him, this wasn't needed.

"Say you love me, Linds."

She loved him.

Tom tossed the icepick aside, leaning up enough to flip Lindsey onto her back, bringing his lips down to lick up her tears before kissing her, passionately, full of love. He was so happy she had seen the light and would obey. He loved her so much, so fully, and wanted her to know it. He had been planning on taking her in the way he did when he punished her, but she had been so good, made him so happy, that they made love the conventional way, Tom screaming his love for her as he finally climaxed into her womb, stroking her hair gently afterwards, whispering his love into her ear, asking her to please stop crying and be a good girl.

Picking her up, they showered again, Lindsey automatically bowing before him to take his member and thoroughly wash it. He had thought himself uttery spent, but Tom found himself amazingly comign hard under his love's fingers, and before long his thumbs were over her eyes guiding him into her mouth, and shortly later he spent himself, pinching her nose to ensure she swalled all of his seed. He was overjoyed to see that afterwords, she spent only a minute or two retching on the floor. She could be trained, after all. Following their shower, Tom oversaw her use of the toilet before spreading ointment on her bottom and taking her temperature again. Her protest was only a weak murmur, which made him happier than anything.

A few minutes later he had locked them in their room, and they were cuddling up naked under the sheets, she in his arms, his mouth gently kissing her neck.

"Do you know what day it is, Lindsey? It's Friday. We'll have all weekend together. Won't that be fun? Our first weekend as a couple. I was thinking of taking a few pictures of you. Something your boyfriend would enjoy."

She tensed up again, starting to cry, and Tom felt a small band of tightness across his chest, jealousy starting to simmer. "Lindsey," he warned, menacing. "You are over him, remember. He led you down the wrong path. You love me now. I take care of you. I'm fixing you. I'm training you to be a proper woman. I'm the only man for you, and don't you forget it. Tell me you love me," he said, suddenly soft again. She did, and he smiled, kissing her again.

"That's better," he said, cuddling up against her, once more the ten year old who sought his big sister out for protection from an unhappy life. "Think about what you want to wear tomorrow. Something nice for him to remember you by, at least long enough to forget you..." Already yawning, Tom soon fell asleep.

Maeve McCarthy

Maeve eased her car through the intersection, green eyes hidden beneath darkened glasses to keep the morning glare from causing them to squint. A slight smile ever present upon her lips as she steered her way closer to the family home of her friend. Lindsay Paget. Maeve had met Lindsay at university, on the flight to Montreal as it had happened, both of them surprised to find the person beside them was going to study at the same place.

Maeve had been leaving her very loving but rather controlling irish catholic family in an attempt to start leading her own life. She had grown up with the catholic ideals of family and duty and 'a woman's place'. She wasn't against marriage or starting a family, but she would do it when she was ready and, hopefully, maintain her career and independence. Lindsay had never said exactly what had made her want to leave her family behind and head to Canada, but Maeve always believed their reasons were somewhat similar. Quite possibly why they had gotten on as well as they had.

She drove up and parked outside the house, glancing at the address she had scribbled down from one of Lindasy's letters. It was a house she had heard much of but had never before visited. After their studies, Lindsay remained in Montreal and Maeve returned to Warren, to teach and to start a new life with Anthony. A guy she had met at McGill. Things between them didn't work out and she decided to stay in Michigan and teach rather than returning to Canada, although she and Lindasy wrote to each other often.

Maeve stepped out of the car, being careful not to allow her slightly shorter than knee length skirt ride up her thigh too much as she put a modestly heeled shoe onto the road, she remembered how odd she had found it that Lindsay hadn't been in touch since returning for her parent's funerals although she admonished herself for even thinking slightly ill of her friend for not rushing to call her as soon as she arrived in town. After all, mourning is a serious process and Maeve had resisted the urge to call around sooner as a result. She reached into the back seat to carefully withdraw the floral bouquet she had brought with her, before locking the car and moving onto the sidewalk.

Maeve approached the house, smoothing her skirt and double checking that her fitted blouse had all of it's buttons suitably fastening, except the top two which she habitually left open to display just enough decollétage to be enticing but not more than that, she rang the doorbell.

Maeve knew how to use her charms to her advantage but this was neither the time or the place for things to be necessary. Her rather bubbly personality combined with her figure and the clothing she chose to wear often gave the impression she was less than aloof when it came to men. She didn't claim to be a saint, but she was hardly the temptress some believed her to be. A little harmless flirting now and then never did anyone any harm and besides, it hardly ever went beyond that, innocent flirting.

Frowning slightly as she realised there had been no response, she shifted the bunch of lilies and roses to her other hand and tried again, raising the sunglasses up to the top of her head, pushing her dark brown hair back from her face as she awaited for the door to be answered.
"Hello...? Hello Lindsay? It's me...Maeve!" She called against the wood, a hopeful smile on her lips and a tingle of excitement within her stomach.

Lindsay Paget

Lindsay was woken early the following morning. Not that she had managed to sleep very well, she was still assailed by nightmares, and the knowledge that no bad dream, not matter how horrible would equal what she was experiencing at Tommy’s hands. He had held her tight, making sure that she never tried to move away from him, at some point even placing his hand around her neck to keep her from stirring. She figured that while he wanted to exercise his complete control there was more to it. Lindsay was quite certain that her brother didn’t sleep well, and at some point she thought she heard a sob. Once again she was assailed by the conflicting emotions. True she hated him for what he had subjected her to over the last days, the sheer brutality and total lack of empathy scaring her, but he was also her closest relative and she knew that there were still some traces of the old Tommy somewhere. Thus as the grey light of dawn filtered in through the barred window she found herself consoling him in much the same way as she had done when they grew up.

The softer side to him evaporated as soon as he woke up, once again forcing her to kiss him, and pulling her hair as he thought that she didn’t put enough effort into it. It hurt him, he told her, that his beloved couldn’t bring herself to show him just a bit of affection. He twisted her nipple roughly making her wince, and kissed her again, this time coercing her into responding with what she hoped would appease him, and hopefully leave her alone. Her action did however have the opposite effect as he became more aggressive, pushing her onto her back and spread her legs with his knee, pinning her to the mattress. Tommy kissed her again, telling her just how beautiful she looked and how much he hurt from knowing that she didn’t respond to his love in the same way. He knew, he continued as he bit her lower lip almost to the point when the skin broke, that deep down inside she felt the same and that he would help her find that Lindsay, but that she would need to help as well. Pain is a great teacher, he intoned her, and that he would inflict pain until she learned how to behave like a proper wife ought to do.

Lindsay whimpered as she felt his breath on her skin, trying not to anger him more. She couldn’t form the words to reply and only nodded as he looked at her. Tommy seemed pleased with her reaction, telling her that she had done such progress in but a few days, and that the corporal punishments would continue. The mere mention of being whipped again made her cringe and it seemed to amuse him, he kissed her again telling her that if she behaved there would only be spankings, and that she in time not only would grow used to them but crave them as well. He ran his hand beneath her, fondling her bottom and giving it a squeeze. She would need to start exercising he told her. Dad had a couple of barbells in the basement and starting on Monday she’d be required to go through a program of exercises to keep in shape. He kissed her again and rubbed his thumbs over her eyelids, telling her that he loved her and that it was time to get ready. She had to make breakfast and then they’d take the photos as he had decided. She froze, knowing that he’d wasn’t kidding but the thought of it was almost more horrible than the things he’d subjected her to up to now. She tried pleading with him but to no avail. He pushed his thumbs harder against her eyelids, making her eyes sting and water, telling her that it was not for her to decide what needed to be done. Once again his temper had taken a turn for the worse. Tommy pulled her up from the bed, dragging her to the bathroom where he once more forced her to relieve herself in front of him. He stared at her coldly, seemingly taking no pleasure from it, but Lindsay guessed that seeing her debase herself in such manner pleased him. He then took her temperature again, this time making it more of a punishment. His hand firmly clasped around the back of her neck as he twisted the thermometer inside her. As he pulled it out he slapped her face, his face a mask of barely contained rage. He told her that he had grown tired of her constant disobedience and as a result he had decided that she’d never be allowed to leave the house again. He’d install more locks and bars if necessary and keep her tied up when he went to work if she kept defying his reasonable orders.

Tommy had brought a razor with him, and as she kneeled he told her to shave herself, saying that if she were aspiring to be good then she’d damn well make an effort to be sexy for her man. Lindsay was trembling as she applied lather to her sex, and gingerly beginning to shave, causing Tom to lose his temper again. He pulled her hair to make her stand up, and in a few short and strokes he had completed the task .She was instructed to thank him and telling him how much she appreciated having a man who took such care of her. The ritual progressed as per usual, she had to kneel to wash him and once more having to fellate him as he rubbed soap into her eyes making them sting like fire. “Next time you need to remove hairs Linds, we’ll wax it of. That’s much easier than having to use the razor. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself” His voice was hoarse as he forced her to take him deeper, bobbing her head back and forth until he climaxed, forcing her to swallow by pinching her nose shut. The nausea rose almost immediately but she knew that she couldn’t afford to anger him more than she’d already done. Fighting the need to be sick and managing to keep her reaction to retching but not being sick.

Still it seemed to be enough to set his temper flaring again and as a punishment, or rather a correction, he turned the faucet, showering her in icy water. She lay curled up on the floor not daring to move as the icy jets hit her, draining her of warmth. He finally let her out, drying her off and applying more balm to her bottom, telling her that he didn’t want the marks to be permanent. He hovered over her like a bird of prey as she did her make-up and then proceeded to clasp the pearls around her neck and telling her to put the heels on. Tommy didn’t bother to dress, electing to wear dad’s old bathrobe. On a second thought it seemed to her, he got the pistol from the drawer and slid a cartridge into it. Tommy made sure to show her that it was loaded. “Just for your protection Angel”.

She began preparing his breakfast, eggs, bacon and hash browns. Tommy was sitting by the kitchen table, monitoring her every move, the gun held lazily in his right hand. As she was about to start frying the food, he put a small apron on, to be sure that she didn’t burn herself, he told her. He stood behind her as she did, the gun held at her temple, to make sure that she didn’t get any silly ideas like the one with the glass. The situation felt surreal, but knowing that he held the loaded pistol to her head made her focus, repressing the fear and focusing on the task at hand. She felt him grow harder as he pushed himself against her exposed bottom, running the along her cheek, telling her how pretty she looked and that perhaps there was a chance that she could learn to behave without him having to resort to too drastic measures.

He ordered her to arrange his food daintily on a plate and to put what was left in a bowl. The latter Tommy placed by his feet and pushing her down on all fours. Since she had behaved badly she’d learn that there would be a consequences to every transgression. After all she had behaved like a bitch last night and did bitches eat like proper humans? No of course they didn’t. He patted her head telling her that he didn’t derive any pleasure from the action, but that it was necessary to teach her a lesson to be respectful to her man, her country and the people who protected their freedom.

She felt tears of humiliation form but she didn’t dare to defy him now. He gently placed his hand on the back of her neck, forcing her head down, telling her that she would have to finish her breakfast. There was no option than to eat it all. Lindsay thought she’d be sick again, the predicament so utterly humiliating and revolting. She was about to protest when she heard the door bell chime. Then the muffled sound of a familiar voice. Maeve.

Tommy got up, telling her to be quiet as he tied the robe shut and walked to the door. She could hear how the exchange of words, Maeve asking for her and Tommy replying in a perfunctory way that she was ill and in bed and in no shape to receive visitors. She knew she ought to have been silent, but desperation made her cry out.

“Maeve!”

She knew that she had done it, there was a muffled cry from the door and the sounds of someone struggling and then the definite thud as the door slammed shut. Lindsay risked a glance and saw Tommy, his hand wrapped around Maeve’s neck and the gun pointed to her temple. She knew that she had condemned the one person who could have helped her to the same fate that had befallen her.

“You’ve been very bad Linds.” Tommy kept his voice level as he pushed Maeve down on her knees, the gun still pointed at her head. “But I won’t punish you for it but your slut of a friend!”

Tom Paget

Tom enjoyed their early morning lovemaking ritual as much as he always did; indeed, it seemed to him that it grew more and more enjoyable each time, as Linds slowly but surely learned to accept her place and to make love properly. Since the outside world no longer existed for her, and her entire life revolved around making him happy, Tom knew that it would not be long for her to fully embrace her role. Every man desired his wife to be both saint and slut; the secret was in when to be which, and soon Linds would not only learn when it would be appropriate for her to release the whore the liberal lifestyle had bred in her, but also to relish it. There was nothing that should please a wife more than knowing she had sated her man.

He felt a strange thrill as he placed Lindsey's food into a bowl, forcing her onto all fours like a litle bitch, pushing her down into it to eat. He was trying so hard to turn her into a proper woman, but to see her like this, the stark contrast to everything he was working for...it was a bit of a thrill, he had to admit, flushing with embarassment at thinking of his sister as nothing more than an animal. That was weak of him. He shook himself mentally, promising a punishing training session later to overcome his momentary lapse. His sister was his sister, not an animal, and while he might be forced to treat her like one for purposes of training and punishment, he could not get used to it, could not enjoy it.

As he kept her face in her bowl, Tom's eyes wandered over her figure. Yes, Linds was very pretty, but he would not stand her getting plump, especially since her duty was now solely to please him. She would never go outside, so he would need to work on an indoor training regimine. The trick would be to balance it, he mused; he didn't want her fat, but neither did he want her to get too strong. Not only was it possibly dangerous, at least while she remained feral and unconditioned like this, but it was downright unwomanly. He would need to put her on starvation diet while simultaneously working her hard, Tom decided. Burn off her fat while keeping her week. After several sessions, her body might even be unable to fully recover its strength...

His loving musings were cut short by the sound of the doorbell, a woman's voice. Tom had not expected this; they had few people left who would give them a visit, and he always planned to ignore mailmen and solicitors and the like. But the way Lindsey started, and the way the strange woman's voice called out, it was clear it was some whore friend of his sister's. Standing up, Tom pushed the gun into his back wasitband, aiming a shrivelling gaze at his sister.

"If you value your friend's life, don't move or say a word, Lindsey. If you don't, the consequences will be on your conscience, not mine."

Making his way to the door, he opened it, smiling warmly at the woman before him. 'Whore friend' had not been far off, she was much curvier than Linds and had no apparent qualms about flaunting it, all standards of decency and good taste of course bleached away by the corrupt culture these sick people worshipped. Still, she was a guest, and a woman, and while society no longer valued such things, he did. Not to mention their cover might be blown if she became too suspicious. So he became all smiles and charm as they spoke.

Her name was Maeve McCarthy, a friend of Lindsey's from university. Apparently a good one, he was a bit slighted that Linds had never mentioned her friends to him in her all-too-brief letters, shutting him out out of her life that completely; but as she never had mentioned her, Tom figured he didn't need to worry about faking knowledge of her, one good thing at least. He immediately asked if she had any relation to the senator of the same surname; his interest dropped considerably when she replied negatively. She wasn't even from Wisconsin, as it was, but right from Warren. Tom cursed inwardly. Just what he needed. This could be a bit of a problem.

He stated that Lindsey was sick and in bed, and started to subtlely guide the conversation in the direction of where she lived and if she was alone, when a voice shouted out. Undeniably Lindsey's, undeniably from the kitchen and not the bedroom, and undeniably in distress and need of her friend. Maeve looked shocked and confused, and before it could go any further, Tom's gun was whipped out and in his hand, at her temple and guiding the little slut inside. He quickly locked the door behind her, then sighed. He could relax a bit now, no one seemed to be outside within listening or sight range, and even if the slut managed to worm her way out of his strong arm which now had her in a chokehold, it would take her precious seconds to undo his locks, even if she had the key.

He guided the slut into the kitchen, where she gasped at the naked, crying visage of her friend on the floor. She began to struggle and speak, but Tom's hold grew stronger, choking her off.

"Oh, Lindsey, look what you've done now," he said, genuine sadness in his voice. "If you'd only followed orders, your slut friend would be on her way, back to enjoying whatever immoralities she is addicted to. But you had to open your voice, and now look where she is. You're angry at me for killing in self-defense? Well, look what you've did. You don't even have that excuse. You've murdered your friend, done it in cold blood."

The slut in his arms ws whimpering now, the full gravity of her situation hitting her, Lindsey growin hysterical, asking him what he meant.

"Look at her, Linds," he answered softly. "She's seen too much. She'll compromise my objectives if released. This is a war for your soul, Linds, one that I can't lose at any cost, and your friend is no longer a civilian, thanks to you. Because of you, she's involved in this, and I have to do what I have to do."

The girl was crying now, Lindsey begging him not to.

"I don't have any alternative, Lindsey!" he suddenly shouted. "I either take care of her, or she takes care of us! Unless..." he was suddenly thoughtful. "Unless...you would like her to join you under my care? Someone to join you in my training, a pet to keep you company when I'm away?"

Lindsey was aghast now, eyes wide, but Tom was thinking warming to this idea more and more. Yes, a second woman under his charge, not his sister and not someone he loved, but someone he could take his frustrations out on when Lindsey pushed him over the edge, someone he could use to do things that he would not want his darling sweet Angel to experience...the Good Lord did indeed work in mysterious ways.

"I'll tell you what, Lindsey. If you ask me to keep your friend with you forever, if you tell me you want her to join you here with you, then she will."

Lindsey still said nothing, and Tom's grip on the slut unconsciously tightened, growing angrier. "Lindsey." His voice was ice-cold. "Either you ask me, no, beg me to keep your friend with us forever, to give her the same care and training I have shown to you, or..." he left the rest of his threat unspoken.

Maeve McCarthy

Maeve smiled brightly at the tall man who opened the door, assuming it had to be Lindsay's brother.
"Hi...I'm Maeve, Maeve McCarthy. I'm a friend of Lindsay's from college...you must be Tom..." She held out her hand for him to shake, resisting to hug him as she did with most people, sensing he wasn't the 'hugging' type. "I heard your sister was back in town and I thought I'd stop by and catch up, haven't seen her in a while...oh, and I brought these, I'm really sorry to hear about your folks, from what Lindsay said they sounded like great people..." Her tone was genuinely regretful as she held out the bouquet. "I know it's not much but I...well, I wanted to bring something..."

She listened attentively as he explained that Linsday was sick and unable to come down, or have visitors.
"That's a shame..." Maeve's face fell although, something, something wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was the number of locks she noticed upon the inside of the door, or the new looking bars across the windows. She knew Lindsay's brother had joined the forces but surely this was taking home security a little too seriously.

"Maeve!"
The cry pierced the air and caused both Tom and Maeve to frown slightly. The owner of the voice was undeniable. It had been Lindsay and it had been a cry of desperation and fear and...of help...
Maeve opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on when she felt something cold and hard press against her head as she was dragged inside. The flowers were smashed upon the doorframe on the way in, fluttering silently to the ground in a snowstorm of petals as Maeve tried in vain to pull away. Gasping as his arm wrapped a little too tightly around her throat and once more the cool, deadly sensation of the gun was once more against her temple.
"I...I don't know what's going on here...but I...but I haven't come to cause trouble..." Maeve began quietly, tentatively before her words tailed off sharply into another gasp, this time at what she found before her eyes upon the kitchen floor.

Lindsay, naked save for heels and a neckleace, was on all fours like an animal, hovering over a bowl of foot, her eyes bright with tears, skin marked in places. Maeve struggled to pull free but the hold around her throat tightened, stopping her instantly. She listening with increasing confusion and concern at the exchange between brother and sister, her heart racing and the feeling she might be sick at any point rising sharply inside her. She didn't really realise she was crying until he told Lindsay to look at her.
"Look at her, Linds...She's seen too much. She'll compromise my objectives if released. This is a war for your soul, Linds, one that I can't lose at any cost, and your friend is no longer a civilian, thanks to you. Because of you, she's involved in this, and I have to do what I have to do."
"You're mad...!" Maeve exclaimed, although her words seemed to go unoticed as the siblings continued their bizarre conversation. Lindsay pleading, Tom threatening, threatening the both of them.

"I don't have any alternative, Lindsey!" he suddenly shouted. "I either take care of her, or she takes care of us! Unless...Unless...you would like her to join you under my care? Someone to join you in my training, a pet to keep you company when I'm away?"
"A pet?!" Maeve pulled harder, her tears blurring her vision as the panic at what might happen to her was overcome by anger and almost indignation at being spoken of in such a way.
"I'll tell you what, Lindsey. If you ask me to keep your friend with you forever, if you tell me you want her to join you here with you, then she will."

Maeve coughed and gagged as his arm snaked tighter and tighter still around her neck, the gun pressing into the skin of her temple with increasing pain and pressure.
"Lindsey...Either you ask me, no, beg me to keep your friend with us forever, to give her the same care and training I have shown to you, or..."
There was a pause, in which Lindsay appeared to consider his words and he awaited her response. Maeve was scared and dazed but she had no intention of giving into this...madness, whatever in hell it was...or in leaving Lindsay within it.

Summoning up the remains of her strength Maeve rammed her elbow back into his solar plexus, gasping as the pressure around her neck was relieved a little as a result. Thanking the heavens that she had decided to go to that self defense demo at work. She stumbled towards Lindsey, falling to her knees, urging her to get up before Tom recovered.
"C'mon...c'mon Lindsay please...please get up...!!" Maeve tugged at her friend's arm, eyes rising to the windows and realising they were locked, just like the door. This was a prison. Everything fell into place. She was locked in a prison, with a madman, a madman she had just hit. Maeve whirled around just in time to watch Tom straighten up.
"You can't do this to me...I have family...I have people who'll come looking for me...I can't simply disappear!!" She almost growled as Tom approached, wincing as his hand rose and came rushing down towards her face.

Lindsay Paget

“Oh God what have I done?”

The words repeating themselves in her mind as she watched in horror how Tommy pressed the gun to Maeve’s temple. How could she have been so selfish, she ought to have stayed quiet and perhaps being able to save her from whatever Tommy planned to do to her. But there were more to it than the desperation of being held captive that assailed her, and the feelings of intense humiliation welled up in her. She didn’t want Maeve to see her like this, kneeling like an animal on the floor, being subjected to such degradation at the hands of her own brother. She bit her lip, tears in her eyes as she hoarsely tried to reason with her.

“Tommy let her go please. She won’t tell anyone. Let her go, I promise to behave..”

She was cut short as Maeve rammed her elbow back, knocking the wind from Tommy’s lungs and quickly kneeled beside her, telling her to get up. It seemed to be the right course of action but somehow Lindsay couldn’t bring herself to move. She was terrified of what Tommy might do, seeing as he straightened up and moved closer, gun at the ready. She heard Maeve telling him that he couldn’t do this, that she had family who would come looking for her but she was cut short by the sickening sound of his hand hitting her face. She bit her lip again, trying to gather some resolve as she watched Tommy bring her hand back to administer another slap to Maeve’s face. Getting on her knees and moving in front of her friend, staring defiantly at her brother.

“Don’t…”

She didn’t manage to finish the sentence, the look on Tommy’s face scaring her into silence, yet she kept her position in front of Maeve, shielding her from any further blows. Lindsay knew she had provoked him further than even last night, even more so than she had when trying to cut her throat. His face was a mask of rage as he took a step closer, pushing her aside and grabbing Maeve by her hair and yanking her to her feet. Without even looking at what he was doing he grabbed her friend’s wrists and held them securely behind her back as he pushed her face down over the table. He laid the gun down as he expertly wrapped her wrists with the flannel string of his bathrobe before pulling her upright again.

“So you do understand that it’s all your fault then Lindsay? That’s very good especially since you have learned to assume responsibility for your actions as well. You will be punished for betraying me as you did and your slutty friend her will watch. Perhaps she can benefit as well, it seems she needs to learn how a good woman ought to behave.”

He glared coldly at her as he ripped Maeve’s blouse open, and with a furious tug, had the bra follow suit. She could hear her protest but she was being silenced as he pulled her hair again, telling her that she’d better be quiet or else he’d hurt both her and Lindsay. He continued to pull her skirt of, frowning at the fact that Maeve was wearing a thong. Addressing Lindsay as he told her that if women wanted to dress like whores then they ought not complain if they were treated like that.

She could hear Maeve gasping for breath clearly shocked but also showing defiance in face of the abuse she was being subjected to. She refused to show that Tommy’s rough treatment had hurt her but kept calm and quiet and the way she looked at Lindsay did not signal anything else but determination not to be broken, or at least that was how Lindsay interpreted it. For a split second she felt a surge of anger welling up in her, how could Maeve maintain her dignity and not collapse into a pathetic sobbing heap. Perhaps Dad and Tommy was right, that she was weak and that she needed to be kept on the firm leash. She felt a stab of jealousy as Tommy signalled for her to get to her feet and follow him upstairs, a firm grip on Maeve’s hair as he dragged her along up the stairs.

Tommy held the door to the bedroom open and gestured with the gun for her to step inside before pushing Maeve onto the bed and locking the door behind him. Lindsay had gotten down next to her friend, once again trying to shield her should Tommy try to hit her again. She wanted to speak up for her but the only words she could manage was a feeble “I’m sorry” as she helped her sit up. Meanwhile Tommy had taken out a pair of leather handcuffs which he placed around Maeve’s wrists and secured them, then attaching a matching set of ankle-cuffs and lifting her of the bed and forcing her to kneel.

He turned to sit down on the wicker chair facing Maeve as he ordered Lindsay to assume her punishment position, and that she’d better hurry up if she wouldn’t want Maeve to have to face up to the consequences. Lindsay moved like a sleepwalker, crying silently as she stepped over to her brother and lay across his lap. He told her that although she had been very disobedient and further had hurt him by her betrayal, he’d still go easy on her and only hand spank her. She mouthed a thank you, knowing that he’d expected her to as he let his hand circle her bottom before swatting her. She was still sore from the whipping she’d taken the previous night and the swath stung like fire. He allowed the burning sensation to sink in before bestowing yet another. She could feel the blood pumping through her as he continued the barrage of slaps until finally he pulled her up by her hair and had her stand in front of him, displaying her scarlet bottom to Maeve as she was to curtsey and thank him for correcting her.

Tommy nodded, almost regally as she did reaching up to wipe away the tears from her eyes and telling her in an altogether softer tone to kneel. Her ran his hands through her hair and gently but unmistakeably firmly took hold of her neck, guiding her face to his member. She blushed, knowing that Maeve would see her carry out the shameful act and on cue Tommy addressed his other captive. Telling her that he did not expect that she’d understand what he was doing but it was for Lindsay’s own good. To save her from the values that had turned his Angel against him, and to bring her back to her true self. Lindsay was his now and he loved her but that she was in need of training and guidance. It was not out of malice he hurt her, but out of love. Lindsay had not been herself since she left home and it was up to him to make her well again.

He placed his hand on the back of her head pushing her face closer to him and forcing her to take more of him inside her mouth. Tommy continued to tell Maeve how readily Lindsay now serviced him this way but that it still hurt him that she didn’t seem to put her heart into making love with him properly. Lindsay could almost hear the glee as he addressed her friend again, telling her that since she was obviously a slut and a whore it would be up to her to show Lindsay how it was to be done and that failure to comply would result in severe punishment, that is when Maeve crossed him it would be Lindsay who paid the price and vice versa.

Tommy pushed deeper into her mouth and as on cue placed his thumbs on her eyelids, pushing against them as he climaxed in her mouth, grunting as he did. Pushing harder against her eyelids he ordered her not to swallow but to keep his ‘precious gift’ in her mouth. When he was all spent he tugged her by the hair over to where Maeve was kneeling. Grabbing both women by the hair and in a cold tone ordering them to kiss.

Maeve McCarthy

The blows were harsh and beyond stinging, Maeve had to use everything to remain on her knees and not collapse to the floor. Her cheek and jaw felt as if it might simply explode from the pulsing pain rushing through it. Maeve steeled herself for another blow when she saw Lindsay move between them, a twinge of relief that perhaps Lindsay would be able to fight back, be able to argue with her brother.
"Don't..." That was all Lindsay managed before her voice faltered under Tom's whithering stare. Without batting an eyelid he shoved her aside and Maeve yelped as he gathered her hair in his fist and dragged her unceremoniously to her feet, within seconds and before she even had time to register what had passed she found herself forced down upon the table, hands pulled behind her and fastened with something, something soft but something strong.

As he jerked her back up to stand her fingers instinctively began to feel the binding, trying to finding a way to loosen it. Her focus fixed on freeing her hands and barely listening to his speech to Lindsay, not until his blazing eyes were fixed upon her. Maeve gasped as his hands took handfuls of her blouse and simply destroyed it, the material falling to the ground as they then moved to her bra, making short work of removing it, causing her to yelp as material snapped and broke against her skin.
"Stop...stop this...you can't...!" Maeve began, only find her words ending in a groan as her hair was pulled, sharply and firmly, causing her chin to rise towards the ceiling in an effort to ease the discomfort. Soon her skirt had joined her other clothes upon the floor, a glow of anger colouring her cheeks as he commented on her choice of underwear.

All the time, Maeve tried to hide how frightened she was, tried to ignore the nauseous waves that were rolling through her. She couldn't afford to. Tom was obviously insane and she knew she would have to get Lindsay out somehow. Another muffled yelp as the hand in her turned her and began to drag her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, instructing Lindsay to follow as he bundled her up them and into a bedroom. Shoving her onto the bed as he locked the door.

Maeve struggled to sit up, not wanting her back to him at any point, smiling weakly as Lindsay helped her, whispered an almost inaudible apology.
"It's not your fault..." Maeve whispered back before Tom approached. Forcing her onto her stomach and attaching new restraints to her wrists and also to her ankles. Her fingers soon told her they were cuffs of some kind, leather and metal and definitely impossible to simply fiddle her way out of. He lifted her easily from the bed and moved her to the floor, making her kneel and watch him as he sat himself in a chair before her.

Maeve watched in shocked disgust as Lindsay obeyed his commands, lying over him, allowing him to spank her like an unruly child, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she watched the scene. It was wrong, so very wrong, all of it. How could Lindsay not see that? Why did she not fight? Maeve wondered where the confident friend she had known had gone, reasoning she had no idea how long Tom had been doing this to her, maybe she had fought back...
Maeve's thoughts were stopped as Tom finished and made Lindsay display the result, her rear was rosy and almost throbbing with heat. Scowling as she heard Lindsay thanking him for what he had done. It seemed, however, that things were only just beginning as he instructed her to kneel before him before guiding her head into his lap.

Maeve closed her eyes tightly and looked away, she simply couldn't watch. It was beyond sickening to watch her friend being treated in such a way. She only looked up when she heard Tom's voice directed at her. He explained it was all for Lindsay's own good, that he was training and guiding her because she was his and he loved her.
"No one treats someone they love like this..." Maeve growled, her lips still buzzing from the slaps, watching with total disgust as he forced Lindsay's head deeper against him, the sounds of her gagging filling the air as he continued saying that Lindsay performed her duties readily but without effort or love. His face changing and his eyes becoming almost hungry as he explained that she would show Lindsay how such things were done.
"I will do no such...!" Maeve began hotly before he cut her off, if she refused, Lindsay would be punished. She stopped, not doubting he would carry through his threat.

All of a sudden Tom began to climax, his grunts cutting through the tension in the air. Telling Lindsay not to swallow his 'gift', as he called it, his eyes flickered to Maeve before standing and dragging Lindsay over to her. Once again his hand was in her hair and Maeve found herself gasping with discomfort, arms straining against the cuffs as he steered her face and Lindsay's ever closer.
"Now, kiss..." The words were simple and spoken with such coldness.
Maeve's eyes flashed from Lindsay's to his and back. Lindsay's were pleading, his were glittering with an insane excitement. How could she refuse? He had already said if she disobeyed it would be Lindsay that would pay the price.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Maeve leant closer and pressed her lips tentatively against Lindsay’s. Kissing her softly, gently, trying to convey the things she could not say in words. That she would try to look after her, try to save her from this madness. Lindsay’s lips were trembling as Maeve’s caressed them, trying to entice her to return the kiss, knowing Tom would not be satisfied until she did so. Why else instruct her to keep his seed within her mouth if he did not mean for Maeve to have to taste it. Maeve’s kisses began to work and soon Linday was kissing her back. It was a gentle kiss, soft and almost innocent in spite of the situation in which it was occurring. Soon Maeve could taste the slightly bitter flavour of Tom’s seed upon her tongue and fighting against retching and breaking the kiss, she simply swallowed.

Continuing to lavish delicate, almost apologetic, kisses upon her friend. The pressure upon her hair did not cease so he obviously did not want them to stop. Instincts began to take over and within a few moments Maeve’s tongue had moved to stroke the flesh of Lindsay’s lips slightly. No sooner as she done so, than their heads were yanked apart, chins tilted upwards so the pair of them were looking up at Tom. Like a couple of devoted slaves, Maeve thought, given their position at his feet and his expression more than magnanimous.
“Now what…?” Maeve asked, a little caution now edging her voice.

Lindsay Paget

Lindsay cursed herself as Tommy issued the command, forcing them to press their lips together and share his emissions between them. She felt like crying, but she restrained the impulse, knowing that her brother would take it a reason to administer more punishment, and by now he wielded even more control over her, as it was most likely that Maeve would take the brunt of his anger if she displeased him. Looking at Maeve, as if looking for approval, even though the shameful action was imposed on them by Tom rather than taking place out of their own choice. It still felt necessary, Lindsay knew she could not openly defy her brother, but her entire being rebelled against putting herself in a situation where she would become the abuser. She thought she could see acceptance and perhaps forgiveness in Maeve’s eyes as she felt her lips pressing against hers. The touch was surprisingly soft, and strangely enough reassuring. Maeve had always been level-headed and known how to be in control in situations that Lindsay had never been able to master, and it seemed that this was still the case. She slowly began to return the kiss, parting her lips and sharing her brother’s emissions with her Meave, who swallowed almost directly and with only the slightest sign of retching.

The soft kisses made her experience conflicting emotions. On the one hand there was the permanent disgust that had she had experienced since Tommy had begun his abuse, but there was also a slight feeling of, if not arousal, then at least something akin to the feeling. She was no longer alone in this and the notion made her reach out tentatively to caress Maeve’s shoulder. The gesture was not meant as being no more than an attempt to show some tenderness in face of the situation that Lindsay had gotten Maeve into. She parted her lips further, letting Maeve explore her mouth, and even though the act in itself was not of the nature that Lindsay wanted it was still more than she had hitherto experienced at her brother’s hands.

She couldn’t help but let a sigh escape her, and had to fight back the impulse to cry as her hands sought Maeve’s shoulders, embracing her friend but not daring to break the kiss. The comfort it brought was scant enough, but given her situation, it served to strengthen her. The next thing she felt was the sharp pain as Tommy roughly yanked their head apart and forcing them to look up at him. She gasped in shock as she heard Maeve’s retort, though more carefully phrased, the words “Now what?” still had a challenging edge to them and his response came immediately as he slapped Lindsay’s face hard.

“You know the rules. Swerve from them and Lindsay gets punished.”

Tommy spoke flatly, as he ran his hand down to rest around the back of Lindsay’s neck, gently squeezing it as he addressed her again, his tone softer but still with an edge to it. “It seems you’re more corrupted than I thought Angel. You never thought you’d enjoy committing such dirty acts.” He had moved his hand and caressed her cheek now, speaking softly aiming to sound reassuring, and thusly scaring her even more. “You will need to be corrected of course, no respectable woman would ever abase herself like you just did Angel, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you.” He seemed to think for a moment, a furrow on his brow as he contemplated the situation. “But perhaps it would be a good thing to let you indulge your dirty fantasies Lindsay? I’ll tell you what Angel, and it’s only because I love you so very much, you’ll be allowed to play with your new pet. I give you my permission to be unfaithful to me even though it hurts me to do so. I want you to be happy Angel even if it means that you’ll be committing a sin.”

He let go of Maeve’s hair and stood up, taking Lindsay’s hand as he did and pulling her to her feet. She knew that his gesture would come at a price, she’d seen the momentary flicker in his eyes as he had spoken and she knew that it meant that some new way of breaking her was being concocted. He was not merely insane, he had become a monster. There was nothing left of her brother in the person who was now forcing her deeper into the depths of humiliation and self-abasement. Tommy would use Maeve as leverage to keep her compliant and she feared that if she did not then he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her. Looking at Maeve, hoping she’d understand what made her speak the way he did as addressed her brother again.

“Tommy you know that I only love you, I’ve not been very good at showing you just how much. I haven’t shown you the proper respect that you have earned.”

She sank to her knees, her palms on his muscular thighs as she looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I’ll promise to be a good girl”. She winced inwardly as she finished the sentence. The words may have seemed innocent enough, but saying them, proved to be the worst act of self-abasement hitherto. There had been neither pleasure, nor willing collaboration with Tommy up to this point since she knew that she had nothing to lose, until now. Looking at her brother and seeing how his features softened. He caressed her cheek, telling her that although it made him happy to finally see her understanding how she ought to act, he still required her to prove herself. He wanted to trust her, but given the amount of brainwashing she’d been subjected to he didn’t dare to yet. Still it pleased him that she was making the effort at least and that in time she’d understand her proper place. He kissed her forehead and then turned to Maeve, ordering her to get to her feet.

The ankle-cuffs made it almost impossible for her to rise, and Tommy’s firm grip on Lindsay’s arm prevented her from aiding her friend. Maeve finally managed to stand up and to Lindsay’s surprise she even gave Tom a defiant stare, clearly signalling that she was far from broken. The small gesture served to strengthen Lindsay’s resolve, she would take whatever Tommy could throw at her to protect Maeve.

Maeve McCarthy

Maeve winced as Tom slapped Lindsay, hard, in response to her question. While it had been asked partly to show she was not yet broken, it did have a genuine edge to it. What did he have in mind for the two of them…?
“You know the rules. Swerve from them and Lindsay gets punished.”
Maeve’s nose wrinkled in disgust as his hand moved from her friend’s cheek around to the back of her neck commenting on their kiss, drawing a mildly embarrassed flush to dart across Maeve’s cheeks as she watched. The kiss, albeit terrifying, hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, in fact it had affected Maeve more than she’d realised. The touch of Lindsay’s hand upon her shoulder, her arms moving to gently embrace her, Maeve had to force herself not to think too deeply about it.

This was not real, this was some nightmarish situation far from the real world, and the moment Maeve let herself become lost in the madness swirling around her, then she would be truly trapped.
“But perhaps it would be a good thing to let you indulge your dirty fantasies Lindsay? I’ll tell you what Angel, and it’s only because I love you so very much, you’ll be allowed to play with your new pet. I give you my permission to be unfaithful to me even though it hurts me to do so. I want you to be happy Angel even if it means that you’ll be committing a sin.”
Maeve sighed slightly as Tom released her hair and drew Lindsay up to her feet, watching keenly, muscles slightly taut, knowing that even though his tone had softened along with his eyes, the manic glint within them had not yet faded and until it did, Maeve knew neither of them could afford to relax.

Maeve felt her brows rise slightly as Lindsay glanced at her before speaking to Tom,
“Tommy you know that I only love you, I’ve not been very good at showing you just how much. I haven’t shown you the proper respect that you have earned.”
As she moved to kneel before him Maeve felt the urge to intervene come screaming up inside her but she held back. Knowing that to get involved would result in more ill-treatment of Lindsay and who knew what kind of punishment they would both endure as a result. Maeve’s eyes narrowed as she moved them to Tom’s face, almost beaming as he watched his sister looking up at him from her knees. He had them both in a position that meant they would have to obey his monstrous desires and wishes or condemn the other to further humiliation and pain. He was evil, truly evil, of that Maeve was certain.
“I’ll promise to be a good girl”.

Tom seemed slightly placated by her words and kissed her forehead softly before turning his smouldering gaze towards Maeve, ordering her simply to stand. Tensing her jaw, Maeve began to try and rise to her feet. The ankle-cuffs making things more than a little difficult, more than once, she almost tumbled to the floor like a beetle and had to wobble and bite her tongue against cursing. Eventually Maeve managed to rise to her feet, her posture one of mild defiance, shoulders back and face tilted slightly upwards. The cuffs restraining her wrists tightly behind her back meant she had little choice but to assume such a position but the look she gave Tom upon straightening up was every bit as obstinate.

Tom moved from Lindsay’s side and circled Maeve, slowly, she could almost feel his eyes burning into her flesh as he did so, his gaze appraising as much as it was brimming with dislike. For what felt like the first time, Maeve was aware of how vulnerable she was. Suddenly aware of how her large breasts were on display and her body in it’s entirety was on show for this madman and her friend. Maeve’s cheeks blushed with embarrassment as Tom continued to move around her, rather like a wildcat moving in on it’s prey, every now and then she felt the tip of his finger touch her flesh and then move away almost straight away as if disgusted with what he was touching…or perhaps disgusted at his own interest in her body given the way he had described her, she wondered mutely.

Eventually he moved to stand before her, letting his eyes move unhindered over her front before returning to her face. Maeve wanted to asking him what it was he thought he was doing, why he was doing such things to her, a near stranger, and to his sister, someone he should protect and care for, not subject to such depravity. Maeve wanted to hit him, to hurt him as he had obviously been hurting Lindsay. She wanted to ask if he wanted them to fear him, if this was just some twisted power trip or if it was something darker, something far more worrying…if he truly believed the words he had been speaking, that Lindsay was his and that now, Maeve, was also a mere possession he could deal with as he wished…she wanted to know what he wanted from her.

But she held back, remaining silent. Her eyes meeting his unfalteringly, determined not to show just how terrified she was, determined not to simply give in, determined not to surrender, but most of all, determined to protect and somehow rescue her friend from this insane horror.