Taken Back Pt. 06

Previously posted as 'Lyndsay's Revenge' on Literotica. Not an accurate title for the story it is telling, so I changed it. Sequel to Taken.

Disclaimer ~ Final Chapter in Taken Back series. This story is dark erotica that consists of non-consensual themes and in this particular chapter, a bit of incest. If you have a weak stomach, or it's not your thing, read no further. Otherwise, enjoy.~~

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Today is the day, Lyndsay thought to herself as she looked around the cabin with pride. She had given it a good spring clean in preparation for Samson's return home. Other than a phone call on Christmas, she hadn't heard from him since. The phone call had been short and she could tell that something was different; off. But she knew the only way to get him home was to stay on the path Clyde laid out before her. He survived the vicious attack, Dale had brought Uncle Abraham to check his wounds and help keep him alive. Abraham had been an older gentleman, resembling a less-than-cheery Santa. When he wasn't attending to Clyde he spent most of his time either napping or praying. Dale on the other hand never let her out of his sight during the day and slept with his revolver beneath his pillow at night. He helped with the manual labor, and she had resumed to keeping the house.

They had fallen into a routine but like anything remotely good, it hadn't lasted forever. The death of his son affected Dale more than it had his mother. But considering Abigail had been covered in horrendous scars, Lyndsay wasn't surprised by her lack of mourning. When Dale wasn't helping with upkeep, he was drinking. Liquor seemed to be the one thing Clyde never ran out of. Through quiet observation she'd learned that Dale owned a delivery company. She recognized the name of the company, she had seen it on the side of the semi's who made their monthly delivery of supplies; Safe Haven Trucking. The irony did not escape her.

It seemed no matter how much she cleaned or how well she cooked, Dale always found something to pick at. His clothes hadn't been washed separately, she had folded his socks wrong; if his coffee was too hot, if his coffee was too cold. Nothing she did seemed to please him enough and she knew he was only pushing her. Trying to get her to react, give him a reason to take her son away for good. Then Uncle Abraham had taken a quick trip to town; having run low on morphine and other medical supplies. He had seemed wary to leave the two of them alone, and things had been fine until Dale used her real name. It had been so long since she'd heard her name past anyone's lips but her own. For a moment it had reminded her of her life outside of the cabin; back home where it was just her and Samson. What she wouldn't give to cherish those few fleeting years just a little bit longer. She had tried to ignore him; but he grew more persistent until she couldn't take it anymore and tossed a pan full of bacon grease at him.

He had been prepared, his arms took most of the hot oil and he had howled in pain. She could still remember standing there, breathing heavily as pan hung loosely in her grip. He stripped his long sleeve flannel shirt off and tossed it aside, his forearms a bright red from the burns and his eyes on fire with rage. She had finally given him the incentive he needed, and he had taken her so violently she had ended up giving birth to Eliza prematurely. After messy chaotic delivery and a bit of him sobering up, they had both agreed not to speak of it.

She missed Samson so much it physically hurt. The more time that passed, the sharper the pain seemed to get; not less. But he was finally coming home and she was determined not to do anything that would mess that up. She heard the sound of gravel as Clyde limped into the kitchen and her heart sank when recognized the sound that accompanied him. He brought out the chain. The other end already locked in place to one of the many metal rings around the cabin and property. She hadn't worn it since Samson left, and she didn't argue as he motioned for her ankle. She lifted it, balancing with ease as he wrapped it and padlocked it.

"It's only while the boy is home." He kissed her forehead before making his way outside to help unload Samson's bags. She walked as far as the chain would let her and watched out the window. She hardly recognized him at first, He was nearly a foot taller, making him nearly her height now; he had thinned out, giving his cheeks an almost hollow look. His dark brown hair was short and combed neatly, not a single hair out of place.

Lyndsay bit her lower lip, her stomach doing somersaults as she watched the front door in anticipation. She wasn't sure what to expect from the young man who was about to enter the house. Would he still be her little boy? What had he been exposed to while he was gone? She found herself wringing her hands and she shook them, forcing them to her side as the front door burst open. He had slightly dark rings under his eyes, and he really had grown over the school year. But his eyes lit up when he saw her, alive and healthy; he looked back to Clyde, waiting for permission before crossing the room and wrapping her in a fierce hug. Her hands shook as she wrapped them around his torso.

"You look well, Mother," he announced with a smile.

"As do you, Samson. How was school? Did you make any friends?" He looked back to Clyde who nodded as he set his bags into Samson's bedroom.

"May I have a snack and perhaps some water while I discuss it with you?" Lyndsay nodded and hurried to make him a sandwhich.

"Crusts on or off?"

"On, I am much less wasteful now." His words were chosen carefully and she set him a place at the table and sat down across from him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. They both ignored the sound of metal dragging around behind her.

"How have you been? I have missed you." She announced.

"Their land is almost triple the size as this place, but there's enough cousins living there to help with the work; they grow peaches." He was smiling but caught himself mid sentence and a look of guilt crossed his face. She quickly patted his hand and smiled.

"It's okay that you had fun Samson; I am relieved that you were not alone."

"I'm not sure how much I am allowed to tell you to be honest. Father says I have a baby sister, can I meet her?!" She swallowed and nodded, leading him into the room they'd given to the baby. She was flat on her back, and Lyndsay found herself hypnotized by the steady rise and fall of her chest. While Eliza had been born rather small, everything else had been declared healthy.

Samson pressed his face against the bars of the crib and smiled down at his little sister.

"She's beautiful, mother! The Lord has truly blessed us." Her smile faltered a little and she turned so that he wouldn't have to see the reaction on her face. She had gotten better at masking her feelings, but doing so around her son was going to be hard.

"Yes, he truly has. You must be exhausted after such a long trip. Why don't you get settled in, and I'll pull out some meat for supper." He nodded, blew his baby sister a kiss and headed for his room. Clyde and another man stood in the doorway, he was flipping through the pages on a clipboard, signing every so often and Lyndsay finally noticed a third man. He was young, his cheeks still held a boyish roundness to them. He wore the same khaki pants as the other man along with the light blue polo shirt with Safe Haven stitched above the left breast.

"Skye, this is David. David, this is my wife Skye." When he turned to shake her hand her body froze. It was as if she was staring at the dead. She paled and took a step back but Clyde quickly stepped up behind her.

"But you're..you're dead." she muttered, shaking her head. She had seen his body, had seen Emily stradling the corpse, one hand still handcuffed to the bed while the other continued to make mincemeat out of his torso.

"Sweetheart, this is DAVID. He is Christopher's first son." She shook her head, that didn't make any sense.

"It seems Emily was not the only girl in the family my brother liked to play house with. But that is not why David is here; David recently celebrated his 18th birthday." Clyde announced. She was in the middle of muttering happy birthday when it dawned on her. She turned around to face Clyde and shook her head, the sinking feeling in her gut only getting heavier.

"You can't possibly mean I am supposed to..." Clyde nodded and she nearly burst into tears. It didn't matter what she did for him or how well she obeyed the rules, he was never going to stop using her.

"Please, don't do this! I have been a good wife!" she protested. She had dragged his nearly lifeless body into the house through several feet of snow, she had endured Dale and Abraham for weeks and then spent even longer helping him to get better.

"It was not my decision Skye, it was the conclave's. This is your punishment for running away with my son and killing my family; you get to help welcome the boys in the family into manhood once their 18th birthday has passed. David here is the first to turn 18 since their decision was made; now please head on over to the basement." She wanted to protest, to fight but one look and she bowed her head and headed straight for the basement door. It was never going to end; just when she thought they couldn't break her further, they did something like this.

Her heart was racing, the temperature falling several degrees as she descended into the bowels of the house. Unless she was doing laundry, she avoided the space at all costs; too many tortured memories.

"As I told my father, I want my future wife to be my first."

"Uncle Jim said you were refusing your rite of passage, but I didn't believe it.Thought maybe you were simply too attached to your mothers. You know this is how the family does things David."

"It should be my choice!" David argued, he looked nearly as uncomfortable and out of place as Lyndsay felt. Clyde sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly old and tired.

"Part of keeping a wife is understanding their bodies. Uncle Jim has explained this to you. Now you will have my wife to help you practice. I used to be soft too, David. But if you expect to make it to Paradise, you have to put in the work."

"I must respectfully decline," David replied, crossing his arms across his chest, putting distance between the two of them. It was an interesting sight, Lyndsay had never seen one of the men refuse.

"You can hit me all you like cousin, but it won't change my mind. Same thing I told Pa!" Clyde sighed and turned to his wife.

"You leave me no other choice; Skye, please put your hands on the support beam." She didn't hesitate, although she knew what was to come. David watched carefully as Clyde made his way over to the bright red tool chest and began sifting through implements until he found rope, which he used to secure her in place.

"I am afraid I have been given very clear instructions, you are not to leave this basement until you complete your rites of passage. And if beating you won't change your mind; I will just beat Skye until you agree." David looked at him in horror.

"But she hasn't done anything!" he protested as Clyde picked a rather large cane from the drawer, letting it bounce against the palm of his hand a few times. It was almost 2 feet in length and he smiled as he twirled it between his fingers.

"Quite correct. But neither have you." Clyde closed the distance, one of his hands resting on

her shoulder and she bit her lip in anticipation. Canes always hurt the worst.

"Am I really not allowed to make this choice for myself!?" David demanded, holding his hand out in an attempt to stop Clyde. Clyde lifted her dress and tucked it into his hand, as he shook his head.

"Not if it's the wrong one." Lyndsay closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

"Please, don't make me do this," David pleaded. She could feel the brisk air as he pulled her underwear down and she tried to relax her body. Clyde didn't argue or even try to compromise as he unleashed his strength on his wife. There was only seconds between each strike and every single one hit their mark until David stepped in and took the cane.

"Enough! I'll do it." David finally conceded. Clyde's face split into a wide carefree grin as he pulled the rope loose.

"Excellent, I will return by dinner. I expect it to be done by then." He turned Lyndsay around and wiped the tears from her face.

"I expect you to fuck him, I do not need to tell you the consequences should you fail me." True to his word, he left, locking the basement door behind him. Lyndsay hugged herself tightly as David turned to face her.

"I-I'm sorry. I just didn't imagine this as my first time."

"I won't fight you," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper. His face fell and he shook his head again.

"I am not going to rape you, I don't care what I told Clyde." He put the cane away and shut the drawer with a huff of disgust.

"If you don't...if we don't...if we don't obey him, then he will come back and it will be much much worse." David began to pace the basement, torn between orders and his own wants.

Lyndsay did not want to discover the consequences should she fail, but how was she going to enforce his orders? Seduce him? She really didn't know the first thing about seduction. Clyde was the only exception and that was only if she caught him in the right mood. David was a complete stranger that looked as though he could be Christopher's twin, and he was very unwilling. Tired of pacing he sat down on the mattress and ran a hand through his hair.

"What if we just tell him we did it?" She shook her head.

"I cannot lie to him; if it helps, you don't have to look at me," she suggested. A range of emotions flitted through his eyes and he burst into uneasy laughter.

"Do you honestly think that has anything to do with my refusal?" She shrugged, she didn't exactly have fans among his family, and she was covered in scars.

"I am 18, a legal adult in the eyes of the law and yet I can't even make this simple decision of my own."

"You already told Clyde you would do it, and he doesn't like it when people break their word." Her stomach rolled at the thought of it. David shook his head head and she sat down on the mattress beside him, wincing as her bruised bottom took her weight.

"If...if you don't, he will return and likely beat us both. And I don't think your promises will stop him this time." Lyndsay tried to keep a neutral tone, but her fear betrayed her.

"I've never even kissed a girl before," he confessed. David blushed all the way to his ears at the confession and she was reminded of just how young he was. So full of optimism and life, the same she had been before her husband flushed it out of her system. She wanted to apologize, but what good would it do? It wouldn't change their situation and it certainly wouldn't help them finish the task either.

"How long do you think we have down here?" he asked suddenly and thoughtfully. Lyndsay glanced out the impossibly small barred window, and sighed.

"A couple hours before supper at the most, why?"

"I have something that I think might help; but my father forbids it while we're on the clock. I think this is an exception." Before she could inquire he pulled a sleek golden case from his back pocket. It was simple in design, and opened like a compact, revealing a neat row of cigarettes, followed by two less than neat ones. From their lack of a filter to their twisted ends, Lyndsay knew what she was staring at was two joints.

"If I am asked, I cannot lie about it." He pulled one out and tucked it between his lips as he stood and tucked his case back into his pocket.

"I think I'll take that risk." He pulled a lighter from his polo's breast pocket and carefully lit one up while crossing the room and unhinging the small window. He inhaled, held his breath for several second before blowing the smoke outside. She could see a sense of relief and calm wash over his body and she allowed herself to relax.

"You sure you don't want a hit of the devil's lettuce? It will make things more chill," he sang, holding the joint in her direction, it's cherry end burning bright. She couldn't help but laugh at the outdated reference.

"I am not sure Clyde would approve," she admitted. Sometimes when she behaved well enough he allowed her sips of his whiskey before bed. Occasionally even her own glass, although more than two fingers worth made her a little tipsy.

"What if I were to order you to?" He was smiling as he said it, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Then I would have to obey," she replied simply. Would Clyde be more upset she disobeyed David? Or more upset if she participated? She almost resented having to make the decision; she had been feeling that a lot more lately. It was easier than trying to guess for herself which choice he would make for her. Which would he approve of? What would the consequences be if she made the wrong choice?

"Then I order you to come and smoke this joint with me," he announced. There was hesitation in his voice, unsure if he could command such obedience. But she didn't argue, she stood and crossed the distance; taking the joint from his fingers and bringing it to her lips. The very air she inhaled seemed to burn her lungs from the inside out and she barely had time to hand it over before falling into a coughing fit.

David laughed and took another hit of his own, a glazed over look in his eyes. They passed it back and forth between one another, and soon a warm fog began to settle over her brain. Her anxieties, her worries; it all seemed to drain away the more she smoked.

"I look like him, don't I?" he asked suddenly. She looked away as soon as she realized she was staring.

"Like who?" she asked softly; but she knew to whom he referred.

"My father; my REAL father."

"Almost identical," Lyndsay replied. The main difference was in the eyes. Whereas Christopher's had been cold, dark and empty; David's were a soft golden brown. He sighed and returned his gaze out the little barred window.

"Guess that makes little Sam my half brother, don't it?" She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

"But he doesn't know... I never told him about his...biological father." She chose her words carefully and David chuckled as he took another long drag from his joint, offering her another hit. Her hands shook just slightly as she took it and took another puff. This one much deeper than the last. She was starting to like the way it made her feel; as if she were floating above it all. She handed it back as she went into another coughing fit, her eyes bulging slightly as her burning lungs clawed desperately for air.

"I heard you were the one to kill him." David announced.

"That is what they say," she agreed. What good would it to to point her finger at Emily? She had allowed Emily to go into that room, in a way it was her fault. She wasn't much older than Emily, but she felt responsible nonetheless.

"Nobody talks about him much, except maybe Ma. And only to curse him and his wickedness."

"That must have been difficult."

"Living under anyone's shadow is difficult. But after I learned the things he did to Ma, I swore would never be like that. I won't force a woman to bed; I don't care for rites of passage, or family tradition." Lyndsay felt taken aback by his sudden confession. She felt a trickle of paranoia as she looked around the room hoping they weren't being listened to.

"How on earth did you manage to get this stuff?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Cousin Jericho grows it on our property; I sometimes sell it to my classmates, and I get a cut. Father doesn't approve, but Cousin Jericho makes a lot of money, so the Conclave decided he gets to keep growing."