Chapter 4

Back home, I made another video showing all the juicy fuck scenes my trusty cameras had captured. Soon after I finished, I received a message from Dad from an email address I knew he used only on his cell. He never let that phone leave his sight. I’m sure there was all kinds of incriminating evidence on it. There was nothing in the body of the note. The subject line was ‘as requested’.

I sent him an email with the attached clips, informing him if he didn’t want the full video released to the public and his partners, he could not divulge our conversations. I also told him the video would automatically be released if a tracer hit this email address. I had no idea whether that was possible, but I knew he didn’t know either.

I worked around the house before Dad arrived. He looked more stressed tonight and quickly left the table after a few bites, commenting on how bad the food was on his way to his home office. Even under stress, he could spew out his vile comments to his wife.

I finished a pleasant dinner with Mom and helped her clean the dishes. I retired early to my room and was surfing when his email came in. He was simple and to the point.

There is no need for threats. How much money would it take for me to acquire the rights to your videos? It can’t be an amount so large as to arouse suspicion at my company. Or do you have something else you desire from your sick mind? You want part of the action, is that what you want?

I didn’t immediately answer. I composed a reply and set up a timer to send it while I was at work the next day. I still wasn’t certain the old bastard wouldn’t suspect me. My email to him should make him feel better.

I don’t want money and yes, I have a sick mind, but you do, too, fucking all those women when you have a lovely wife at home. All I want is for you to feel humiliation, much the way you have made those women feel. You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine at the same time fulfilling one of my own fetishes.One of my thrills is mother-son sex, so you’re going to provide a movie to me starring your wife and son. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince them, you being the powerful head of household. No need for hardcore, I can edit in those scenes, just film softcore and it better be believable or your sex video will be released to the public and to multiple divorce lawyers.

I’ll email you the various scenes to enact every day and you’ll send me the completed video each night at the conclusion of filming. Once finished, I will no longer be in contact with you. Our business will be complete.

The next day was work as usual. Arriving home early, Mom and I painted a section of the house, playfully dabbing paint on each other to break up the boredom. We cleaned up in time for Mom to change and prepare dinner.

Going to my room, I noticed a message from Dad. He didn’t disappoint.

I don’t have time to support your disgusting perversions. I’m prepared to pay ten grand to put an end to your blackmailing scheme. I’ll even buy a couple dozen porn videos of whatever demented subject you have in mind and send them to you.

He really needed to take some negotiation classes. Composing another reply, I timed it to send when I knew we’d be eating. Short and authoritative, most likely the way he prefers to bargain.

No, you need to pay attention. If you don’t begin tonight, the videos will be released tomorrow. Scene list attached.

Halfway through dinner, Dad’s phone chirped, signaling the receipt of my message. He quickly read it, excused himself, giving the reason he couldn’t stomach the food anymore and retired to his office.

I didn’t bother going back to my room to look for an email. I wasn’t going to drag this out. An hour later, Dad came out to the living room, looking like he had a few more shots of scotch than usual. He sat down to talk to us, which was unusual for him to converse with his family.

At least he had enough sense to fabricate a good story. He announced, “People, we have a huge problem we need to deal with. We acquired a company last year using some questionable tactics. In the process, the owner was stripped of everything and we pretty much destroyed his life. He solely blames me and has some proof that might hold up in court that could portray me in an unfavorable viewpoint.”

Both Mom and I sat still listening to his story, not daring to comment on anything. We learned not to do that long ago.

He continued, “The bottom line is he could destroy me and financially wipe me out. We’d have no home or any money. I don’t know how we’d survive. The only good thing is he doesn’t want money. He only wants to mentally harm me. He evidently has seen how much I care for my family so he wants me to hurt my family, which in turn would be painful for me.”

What a spin he put on that. It must have been hard for him to pretend he cared for his family. I bravely spoke up, “He wants to hurt us? It sounds like you should go to the police for protection.”

That bolstered him as he could put me in my place. He spat, “No, Boy. You idiot. That’s not how grownups deal with these kinds of problems. Don’t worry wimp, you won’t get an owie. We have to do what he requests or we’ll be financially ruined. I can’t allow it to happen to my family. I have to protect us.”