The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 10: The Prize

Rembrandt held his phone. He’d already dialed the number, he just had to press call.

But doing that...would be admitting defeat.

He had no illusions of what his actions meant.

It meant he was giving up. Admitting defeat. He would exchange one form of confinement for another.

But he was confined. Any glimpse of freedom he’d attained had been snatched away as soon as Rachielle had found him again. He was now in her home, under her domineering heel. He wouldn’t make it easy for her. He wouldn’t live with her.

He wouldn’t let her win.

He pressed send.

He heard the call tone.

“*Yawn*….Honey?...It’s four in the morning! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!”

“Mom….” Rembrandt took a breath. “I’m ready to come home.”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Rachielle yelled as Rembrandt was guided into his mother’s Jaguar by a guard. “Get your filthy hands off him!”

She slugged the guard: a hard jawed man  twice her size, with a snake tattoo on his neck, hard in the stomach. He doubled over and vomited in Rachielle’s driveway.

“You’re cleaning that up!” Rachielle said stepping on and over his face with the heel of her stiletto.

Velvette sighed and shook her head at the sight of her most trusted security guard face first in his own regurgitation.

“Jose.” she facepalmed. He was adept at intimidation and protocol but he’d been almost useless in a fight since his vow of pacifism. Why’d he have to find religion in prison?

“Step aside!” Rachielle roared at her.

Velvette just smirked from her position between Rachielle and her son. She was almost even to Rachielle when the girl had her heels on. Still taller, but only by a fraction, not that size mattered so much to someone like the delightfully dangerous Ms. Wanstone.

“Honestly, hun. This is rather unbecoming of you.” Velvette said not moving an inch. “Would you really impede a mother in her duties?”

Rachielle bit her lip. “I’ll move you if I have to...mother.”

Velvette tingled a little at that flattering title. “Not quite yet dear.” She put a hand on Rachielle’s shoulder and squeezed. To the girl’s credit she didn’t flinch. “You’re welcome to try.”

Rachielle grit her teeth. Clenched her fist.

This fight would have to happen eventually. Velvette wouldn’t be the matriarch of her family forever. Might as well start planting those seeds now.

“Rachielle!” Rembrandt screamed.

She stopped herself.

Control.

“Enough!” He said jumping out the car and scurrying between the thick, stocking covered legs of his mother. “You really think I’d marry someone willing to hit my mother?!”

She froze.

“Remy I-”

“No, shut up!” He barked. “I’m going home! That’s final!”

Both women seemed momentarily stunned by his sudden outburst. Velvette’s shock grew into a wide smile.

“My darling baby boy!” She squealed, seizing him and peppering him in more of her daringly taboo-esque kisses. “You love your momma so much don’t you!? Yes you do! She loves you too! Oh if only you weren’t-”

“Mother, stop!” He yelled. “Put me down!”

His command didn’t dissuade her in the slightest and she continued to fondle him for a few more precious moments in a variety of ways that made everyone there a few shades redder with either envy or embarrassment. Everyone except her that is. Rembrandt’s former commanding presence devolving to that of a whining child by the moment. Only once she was satisfied did she release him, ruffling his hair as she did.

“You can visit Rembrandt this afternoon.” Velvette stated before strapping him into his car seat.

“Mom!” he snapped. “I’m not sitting in this!”

“And I’m not letting you die because you’re stubborn!” She snapped back. “It’s the law!”

It was but Rembrandt was also just an inch above the legal size for riding without one, a great source of debate between the two of them. Most modern cars already had the required seat belts installed, but she refused to special order for her custom jaguar and-.

“Rembrandt!” Rachielle called to him. She opened the door and took his face in her hand. She forced a kiss on him that he eventually accepted. “I’ll see you this afternoon. We’ll catch a movie. I love you.”

Rembrandt didn’t have words for the mixed emotions that ran threw him.

‘How precious!” Velvette commented. “Jose, start the car!”

“And your sister Violet is home again!” Velvette prattled on. “She caught Dwayne with his pants around his waist and his cock in the mouth of a teenager! The pool boy! Can you believe it!?”

“No mother.” Rembrandt droned.

` “We went shopping to help her vent. Even bought you a few tasteful outfits!”

Rembrandt’s dread only grew. He may have looked exactly like his mother, but his oldest sister Violet acted like her! Even at age 27 she idolized their mother. Velvette and Violet were a nightmare team of debasement of all kinds. He wouldn’t have a moment of breathing room.

“And of course Bradley and Brittany though they’ll probably be busy with school.” His two younger siblings. Fraternal twins. They were actually nice, even if they did bully him a little. He didn’t blame them since it was almost natural considering they were already taller at ten than he would ever be. They were still young enough not to know they didn’t have to respect him. Still a silver lining to living at home. He missed them.

“What about..Connor?” Rembrandt asked. His oldest brother. The oldest of all of them, ahead of Violet by sixteen months. The next in line.

“Busy.” Velvette grumbled audibly upset at just hearing his name. “Thankfully.”

Rembrandt said nothing.

“There’s also a few nice surprises you might enjoy.” Velvette informed.

Rembrandt didn’t like the sound of that. Velvette considere shared bathing a “nice surprise”.

“Have some movers start relocating the furniture.” Velvette told Jose.

They walked into the grand hall at the front of the Logan Manor. Built in the roaring 20”s this home had survived the institution of estate tax and the wrecking ball to be passed down from Rembrandt’s grandfather. An heirloom of the Gilded Age. While it technically belonged to his father’s old money, his mother’s new money paid for its upkeep.

The floor was an intricate mandala tiled out of pieces of hand carved black and white marble. It was cleaned and polished everyday to a sparkling finish. A welcoming example of the unashamed opulence his family held.

It made him sick.

Rembrandt appreciated the wealth his family had and the lives his parent’s success provided but it also made him feel ashamed. It was too much, suffocating. He’d preferred his life amongst the “unwashed” as his mother put it. Even though she’d grown up at the poverty line she had little respect for anyone who hadn’t achieved the same as her. All the while hypocritically spoiling her children to the point of never knowing what want felt like.

That’s why she’d taken a shine to Rachielle. Another self made success with a penchant for spoiling him. Although Rembrandt always furrowed his brow at the idea of “self made”. People like Rachielle, like his mother. It was hard to imagine them ever suffering. Maybe that’s what people thought of him?

“Brad!” echoed a young voice. High pitched, slight lisp, sunny but with a tint of annoyance. “Where did you hide the remote!?”

Steps and a gust of wind. A halt.

The sound of rubber squeaking against tile. Like sneakers on a basketball court.

She had ear length brown hair lightened by their father’s blonde genetics. Her face was round and slightly chubby. Like it was trying to catch up with the rest of her body which had thinned out considerably in the month he’d been away. Her shirt and skirt were very loose on her now while also being a size too short exposing her thighs when they used to go past her knees.

A gasp.

“Rembrandt!”

He was tackled hard onto the cold floor by his younger sister. Brittany being ten only had about a foot on him if that. Puberty hadn’t set in but she was still a bit stronger and heavier than he was. That meant hitting the floor hurt!

“Brit, please.”

“I thought you moved out!” she said hugging him. “Brad! Brad! Rembrandt’s back!”

“Brittany be careful!” their mother chastised.

“Sorry.” she cringed upon realizing how easily she’d flattened her older brother. She picked him up off the floor.

Rembrandt did a double take. Was that a foot she had on him or a foot and a half?

“You’ve grown.” he commented.

“You think?” She smiled with an oblivious head tilt. She was missing a tooth. Her last stubborn baby tooth had fallen.

“Don’t lie!” Came another shout. The voice cracked and fell an octave near the end as if fighting with what it was and what it was becoming.

Bradley was almost identical to Brittany. The only real difference was his darker brown hair from his mother’s genetics. This difference had encouraged preferential treatment from each parent respectively.

“Rem?” He said almost hesitant. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or that he was having trouble recognizing him. Bradley was the quiet one, more quiet even than himself. Rembrandt and Brittany were the only one’s he’d talk more than a few words too. It probably hurt him when Rembrandt fled. “Rem!”

Rembrandt’s hand was clutched in Bradley’s larger, stronger one. In form with his twin he’d grown an equal amount in the last month.

“You gotta try this new game I downloaded!” he beamed.

In that moment Rembrandt was practically abducted by his two siblings and whisked off to untold shenanigans of innocence.

Velvette was left disappointed.

Her phone rang.

“Hmm?Yes. He’s here.”

“No. Not yet. Let him have his fun first.”

Rembrandt watched in horror as Scorpion’s head was impaled by his own crystalized blood. His eyeball pierced through his skull by the crimzon spear in slow motion high fidelity.

:Scarlet Wins!” Said the announcer.

“That sucked.” Rembrandt grumbled.

“You suck at fighting games!” Brittany commented brushing him aside to take his controller.

“Aren’t you two a little young for this game?”

The twins both laughed at him before starting another match.

“Enough playtime.” Violet announced intruding on her youngest children’s shared room and fun. “Rembrandt has things to do.”

“What things?” He asked indignantly.

“Clean yourself up for one!” his mother commented. “You stink, all three of you do. We have a guest coming today and I believe you have an appointment with Rachielle.”

“Oooooh!” his twins gasped, Brittany even making a kissy face.”

That means you two need to wash up as well and put on decent clothes!”

They both whined but complied.

“Maybe the purple tie?” Violet scratched her chin. She was a “thicc” woman with the same assets as her mother only more shapely if that was even possible. The effects of gravity hadn’t had as much time to tug at her breasts or ass, as little as they had effected Velvetter herself. Her hair was blonde, and if Rembrandt was his mother’s reverse gender clone, Violet was their fathers.

Her chin was squared and strong, she had defined cheekbones and wide shoulders. Most thought she was a boy until her figure came in.

Rembrandt was laid bare with nothing protecting his modesty from the critical eyes of his mother and older sister. They were planning his wardrobe and he’d changed outfits at least five times in the last half hour.

He’d be embarrassed to be naked in front of two amazons scrutinizing every aspect of his appearance but this had been his life since he could walk. Probably before that but he couldn’t remember that far back.

“No the red.” Velvette said. “It will match her lipstick.”

“Well she can changer her lipstick!” Violet argued.

“It’s not the right season for purple!” Velvette stated.

“Purple is more unique!” Violet said back. “Anyone can wear red. You want to make a statement. Purple is the color of royalty.”

“Red is the color of power!” Velvette added. “That’s making a statement.”

“Uhhh. I like green.” Rembrandt commented.

“No!” they both denied.

This continued for the next hour.

He was finally dressed. It was a full three piece suit with a magenta tie that was the compromise his mom and sister had reached. It was too much. He was just meeting with Rachielle to go on a date, a movie. A simple affair and he was now overdressed for it. He had to wonder why they had gone to all the trouble. He waited for her at the top of the stairs of his home.

This is why he hated being home. It was always a production when it came to him. He was spoiled beyond belief and it became quite tiring.

“You look good.” Violet commented. “Cute.” She pressed her chest into his shoulder and kissed his neck. She wasn’t as affectionate as his mother but she still coddled him. “I hope this girl appreciates it.”

“It’s just Rachielle.” Rembrandt said. Why would anyone think she wouldn’t. They all knew her. His families had deep ties with the Wanstones. He’d known Rachielle since he was a kid and she’d been courting him for nearly as long. “Why are you even bothering with all this?” Wasn’t it pretty much a done deal at this point?

“Hmmph.” Violet smiled. “You give me the detes when your date’s over.” she kissed him again and groped his crotch. “The juicy ones. Not some boring over the shirt action.”

The doorbell rang.

When the door opened he expected Rachielle to walk through, but instead it was someone he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t see them well from his position at the top of the stairs but they were wearing a dark jacket. It was a woman.

“Rembrandt don’t leave half of your date waiting.” Velvette chortled.

Rembrandt nearly tripped rushing down the stairs.

She was wearing a black leather jacket with silver buttons, the same biker gloves she always wore only polished to a shine, a deep red low cut top that exposed her defined midriff, tight hip hugging dress pants with open legs, dark grey gold studded high heel boots. Magenta lipstick. She’d cut her hair.  High and tight. Nearly shaved on one side. Rebellious.

“Crystal?”

“It’s..”

“Christian, honey.” His mom chimed in. “Christian Hudson Jr.”

Crystal blushed. “I-”

“Have a lot of explaining to do.” Rembrandt finished.

“Have formally expressed my interest to your mother for future partnership.” She corrected.

“Mom! What did you do!?” Rembrandt asked.

“Not a thing.” Velvette huffed. “She called me!”

“Can we start over?” Crystal asked. “So you can get to know the real me.”

“Crystal or...Christian Hudson Jr.?”

“That’s Crystal for you, bitch boy!” She smiled. “Never Christian.”

“What the fuck is this?!” Rachielle yelled. She barged into the Logan home in a scathing magenta dress that matched her increasingly red skin color. Her bright blonde hair was flying behind her from the momentum of her steps or possibly the force of her own rage.

“And the other half of your date!” Velvette smiled.

Rembrandt instantly understood what was happening. His mom had played one or both of these young women. Standard operating procedure for anyone who knew her more than a month. Crystal could claim victimhood but Rachielle probably should have known better, or perhaps he should’ve. He’d just been played too.

He was the prize in a game between these two. A game his mother had just created. She loved him too much and desired nothing more than for everyone to understand his worth. Fight for him like men had fought for her. A perverse mixture of overprotective love and narcissistic ego stroking.

For once in his life Rembrandt wished his father were home.

“You kids make sure to have fun tonight!” Velvette smiled.

“You’re not ready for this street trash.” Rachielle hissed.

“It’s cute how tough you’re acting without your bodyguard here to back you up.” Crystal commented. “I think I owe you a punch to the face. You’ll be collecting that soon.”

“Rembrandt, come on!” Both women ordered.

Rembrandt gulped.