The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 6: Reunion

Velvette Logan had many titles. Chef, restaurateur, entrepreneur, businesswoman, former model, self made millionaire, but the title she was most proud of was mother. Specifically the mother of Rembrandt. Velvette had five children, Rembrandt was her middle child, her youngest son, her favorite.

Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites and she loved all her children in different ways but when Rembrandt was born she knew he would hold a special place in her heart. How could he not? He was a gift from god, sculpted in her own image, a reflection of her own greatness in such a pure form. Not every woman could birth a child like him, safely, healthy. The fact that he looked just like her only validated what she knew. He was perfect.

“My darling boy!” Velvette cooed into Rembrandt’s neck as her son struggled in vain against her. “I’ve missed you so!”

“Mother!” He squealed as she forced his face into her soft breasts. She nuzzled him tightly between her cleavage, that alway calmed him down.

Crystal was taken off guard as she watched her boytoy flail in the hands of a much larger, gender swapped, clone of himself. Or perhaps him being the clone was more accurate.

“Mother, please!” He tried but everytime he tried to get more than a few words out he was silenced by his mother’s affection. Forcing him into her chest or tactfully keeping him busy with brief kisses that skirted the line of taboo. She didn’t seem to care that there was even an audience as she continued to molest and coddle her son. Fondling him in places, groping his ass, tickling his armpits, necking him unashamed. Crystal even learned a few things from watching. Fun ways to keep Remy quiet when he gets uppity.

“Mom!” Rembrandt yelled out as loud as he could. He grabbed hold of her wrists and fought back as best he could. Kicking his legs and wiggling to no effect. Velvette only stopped her coddling when she’d felt satisfied, leaving Rembrandt a sweaty, gasping, heaving mess. She cooed at him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“What is it sweety?” She asked innocent, as if she hadn’t spent the last several minutes fondling her son.

“How are you here?” he asked between breaths.

“Well when I found out where you were I couldn’t just-”

“Rachielle!” Rembrandt snapped. He finally managed to free himself in that moment. He fell backwards and scrambled away to search the rest of the apartment. “Is she here?! Did she tell you?!”

Crystal hadn’t seen Remy this shaken since she’d announced her intentions to take his virginity. In fact he seemed more scared of Rachielle than even that.

“She’s very worried about you.” Velvette said. “You should really talk to her. It’s not polite to leave your fiance in the dark.”

“Fiance?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.

“She found me!” Rembrandt panicked. “I-I”ve gotta get outta here!” He ran toward a closet and opened it. He stopped momentarily to notice that it had been filled with new, expensive looking clothes. Then he emptied his backpack of school supplies and started shoving what he could inside.

“Excuse, me. Girl.”

Crystal turned toward Velvette at her first time addressing her or even acknowledge she was there. “Crystal.”

“I’m sure.” Velvette nodded toward her son. “Would you? He’s so excitable. Gets it from his father.”

Crystal wasn’t much inclined to just listen to some woman even if she was Rembrandt’s mother but he was kind of freaking out, as cute as it was.

She went to him and lifted him up from behind.

“What are you doing?”

“The school called me.” Velvette said walking toward her son with the plate of food she’d prepared. He scooped out a forkful of rice and fed it to him. “A Ms. Summers I believe.”

Rembrandt let out a breath. His psychology teacher. Thank god! He actually felt a little lighter at that. Of course she’d seen right through his lies. She’d probably gotten his parents contact information from the school registry. He was still a minor and couldn’t lie about that.

“Imagine my surprise when they told  me the address they thought you lived at. Some hole in the wall in the slums! Like a peasant or a homeless!”

“I’m fine mom! This place is fine.”

“Maybe now!” Velvette huffed. “It took all day to get this place looking passable. I can’t believe my own son would prefer to live in this!” The way she said “This” oozed with disgust and contempt. “You should come home.”

“No!” Rembrandt objected. “I refuse! I hate it there.”

Velvette gasped. “You’ve become disobedient in just a month! This is what happens when you let the chicks leave the nest. They live in squalor and keep company with street whores!”

“Street whore!?” Crystal took offense. “Listen, bitch-”

“No offense intended.” Velvette cut off. “I’m sure you’re very nice. Very….robust. It’s just that my sweet Rembrandt is meant for a higher class of person. A family with pedigree.”

“A family like the Wanstone’s.” Rembrandt finished. “No thank you.”

“Give Rachielle a second chance.” Velvette uged. “She’s been to counseling, taken sensitivity training. She’s getting better, for you. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

“No.” Rembrandt replied.

They ate in silence. Velvette was “generous” enough to even prepare Crystal her own plate. She understood why Rembrandt would flee his house if it meant living with her. His mother was grating and condescending and absolutely smothering. He sat in her lap, not even allowed to deshell his own crab and rarely the privilege of feeding himself.

He was made to eat the meal in delicate forkfuls as Velvette meticulously cracked and prepped the crab and rice. She also took measures to make sure he chewed enough as she cuddled him to her.

Crystal was far less graceful. She cracked the shells with her bare hands and slurped the delicious meat from the legs like through a straw.

“Good eats, Mrs. L!” She belched. “You may be a bitch but you know how to cook!”

Rembrandt gasped. Crystal really did not give a shit.

“Such vulgarity!” Velvette said. “I can’t believe you’re a Rembrandt’s friend.”

“I’m not his friend.” Crystal said after a swallow. “Your son is my…. My….boyfriend if you want to put a title on it.” She admitted.

Rembrandt blushed at that.

“And let me make one thing clear here, Ms. L.” She finished a crab leg and scarfed down a bowls worth of risotto. Then chugged her glass of  sparkling cider. “I don’t care who this “Rachielle” is.”

“Hmm.” Velvette held eyes with her. Giving her a once over. Deciding her worth with a gaze. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Rembrandt asked. “That’s it? Just, okay?”

“Honestly it’s none of my business.” Velvette said as she fed her son another bite. “I just want you to be happy, darling. And while I personally think you’d be happier with Rachielle I won’t judge your choices.”

“You mean that?” he looked at his mother and she smiled. She kissed him on the lips and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Of course dear.” She said. “Believe it or not but I don’t want you running away from me. I’m not getting involved further. I was just worried about you. You didn’t even tell me when you left. And those pictures! I thought you were starving!”

“Well, sorry.” Rembrandt apologized. “I was just feeling………..suffocated.”

Velvette paused. Those words seemed to resonate for a moment. She sighed and let him go.

“Your father was right.” She muttered. ‘It WAS me wasn’t it?!”

“Mom, I.” Rembrandt didn’t have the words.

“And I was so sure it was Rachielle!” She snapped. “You probably hate me don’t you! You probably hate this meal!” She picked up his plate and dumped it in the trash.

“Mom! Please.”

“Noooooooooooooo!” She groaned. “Ah! I’m so bad at this!” She clung to a wall and slid down on her knees.

Crystal realized where Rembrandt really inherited his excitable nature from. It was almost a complete reversal of the dignified and condescending woman from just a moment before. All from one comment. She was clearly not all together.

“Mom, please, calm down.”

“Do you even watch TV!?” She asked before sobbing in her palms.

Rembrandt looked at his new TV she’d bought. He wasn’t a big TV watcher and spent most of his time on his phone or laptop. He couldn’t tell her that.

“Of course I watch TV!” he half lied. “Who doesn’t watch TV?”

“You really like it?” She perked up a little raising her head. “And the rest?”

“Yes.” Rembrandt said lying through his teeth. It was too much. It reminded him of home, but he would get used to it.

“Oh! My sweet boy!” Velvette snatched him up for another session of overaffection.

“And you’ll call me.” Velvette said as she started her car. It was a jet black luxury Jaguar with red trims and extensive chrome detail work.

“Yes.” Rembrandt droned.

“And i’ll visit this weekend?” She added. “I’ll make pheasant, you can bring your girlfriend.”

“Yes.” Rembrandt repeated.

“And a kiss before I go.”

“Yes.” Rembrandt parroted for a third time. Before he even had time to pucker he was seized by the collar and his lips were stolen again.

“Mwah!” She smacked.

“You...won’t tell Rachielle where I am will you?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Velvette answered. “On one hand I do think she deserves to know, on the other I do like keeping this a little secret for as long as possible.”

“That doesn’t help me!”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to keep worrying about it.” Velvette winked. “See you next week darling. I love you.” With that said she revved her engine and peeled off causing a puff of smoke from the burned rubber.

“Your mom’s insane.” Crystal said.

“No wonder you left home.” Crystal commented. They were sitting on his new couch, watching an anime about a pirate with a straw hat, streamed on his new TV. They were apart. Rembrandt at one end of the sofa and Crystal the other. It was a full sized sofa fitted for large and small alike. That left plenty of room between them.

“My mom was only part of the reason. My father’s not much better...and well Rachielle is...Rachielle.”

“Who is this Rachielle bitch anyway?” Crystal asked scooting closer. “Why are you so scared of her?”

“She’s….I don’t want to talk about it.” Rembrandt said visibly upset. “We used to be engaged. We’re not anymore.”

“Does she know that?” Crystal probed.

“No.” Rembrandt admitted.

“You’re really scared of her aren’t you?”

Rembrandt was quiet.

Crystal scooted closer.

“Don’t worry.”

Closer still.

“I’ll protect you.”

Even closer. He could almost feel the heat coming off her body. He still refused to turn and address her. His mind was scattered and the lines in their relationship were getting fuzzy.

“Why did you tell my mom I was your boyfriend?” He asked. He felt her hand on his shoulder. He was pulled onto her, straddling her with his legs spread wide on either side.

“Would you have preferred I told her you were my bitch?” She teased. Her face was close to his now. So close he could smell her breath. He felt her hand on the small of his back.

“You...shouldn’t have lied.” He was shivering a little at her touch.

“Was it a lie?” She said softly. “You tell me.” He was pulled closer. He raised his hands to push back and found them pressed into softness. He tried to pull back but Crystal squeezed him in tighter. He was practically groping her now. The flesh of her breasts squeezing between his fingers.

“I.” He stopped when he felt her hard on. A bulge rising and pressing against his underside. Crystal giggled and pumped her hips making him jump.

“You need to relax, Remy.” She said. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”

“Are you?” he asked. “Are you my girlfriend?”

Crystal held him. Eye to eye they stared at each other for long almost painful moments of silence. She held a smile, but Rembrandt wasn’t as confident. “This ends when you want it to, Remy.”

“Then you’ll hand me over to Jericho.”

“Don’t use that as an excuse!” Crystal snapped startling him with her sudden outburst of anger. “I just met your mom! We both know you’re just a phone call  away from salvation.”

She was upset. He didn’t know why. This was so frustrating. Rembrandt felt like he didn’t have a choice either way.

No that wasn’t right.

He just didn’t like his choices.

He wasn’t ready to trust Crystal either. Not after she’d revealed her intentions.

He gave up. He closed his eyes and collapsed into Crystal. He was done thinking for the night.