I've had a good night's sleep after getting home yesterday.  I think whatever Katie was drugging me with has finally worn off; I'm finally feeling lucid again.  But that doesn't change the fact that I don't, and can't, trust my memories of this past weekend, and that I have no idea how much of this I dreamed or imagined or hallucinated.  Maybe Katie would tell me, if I asked; but I'm frankly afraid to contact her.

She got home from the mall late Saturday afternoon, carrying a couple shopping bags filled with her purchases.  Before I could say anything, she dropped the bags to the floor and said, angrily, "Thanks for not telling me there was a $500 limit on your fucking bank card, Uncle Jack!"  I was speechless, and Katie continued, "I had a bunch of other outfits that I picked out, and then I couldn't get more money from the ATM, and I had to go back to the store and tell them to put all that shit back.  I was so fucking embarassed!"  I knew she had taken the cash from my wallet, and my bank card; she had told me that in the note she left.  But I had no idea how she had gotten my PIN so she could use the card at an ATM--I must have given it to her the previous evening.

Anyway, she was pissed at me.  She went to her room and stayed there for at least an hour, until I knocked on her door and asked if she wanted dinner.  "Fuck dinner," she said.  I said okay, I would just fix something for myself.  "No you won't," she said.  "You have other things to do."  I had no idea what she was talking about, but she got up and went to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of wine; "Here," she said, "have a drink."  My first thought was that this was how the previous night had started; I suspected she was putting something in the wine...but I took it from her and drank it.  "Now go and run me a bath, and put some lavender in it."  I went down the hallway to the bathroom and did what I'd been told.  When the bath was ready, I went to Katie's room to tell her; she was wearing a pair of pink panties and a thin tank top through which I could see her nipples.  "Stay here," Katie ordered.

She called me into the bathroom a few minutes later; she was standing there, dripping wet, again wearing the tank top and panties, which were also wet and clinging to her body.  "I'm done, Uncle Jack," she smiled (apparently the bath had improved her mood); "I'm all clean now.  Of course," she said, "I know you like me better when I'm dirty."  I didn't know what to say, but she didn't wait for me to reply.  Instead, she told me to get a drinking glass from the kitchen; when I came back with it, she instructed me to fill it from the tepid bath water (she hadn't emptied the tub).  Then she said, "Now drink it."  I hesitated--was she kidding?  Apparently not, because she immediately snapped, "I said to fucking drink the fucking glass of bath water, Uncle Jack."  So I drank it, and Katie laughed at me and told me how pathetic I was--"You'd even drink my bath water in hopes of getting to fuck me, you miserable pathetic pervert.  Well, if you really want to fuck me, Uncle Jack, you'd better do something about that $500 limit on your bank card, because that just isn't going to cut it."  She walked back into her bedroom, and I vomited slightly into the toilet as soon as she left the bathroom--lavender-scented bath water didn't go down all that well.  Then, I think, I passed out, I assume because of whatever Katie had put in the wine.

The rest of the evening could have been, as I said, a dream or hallucination--except for some photos that Katie e-mailed me earlier today.  They show me sitting naked, tied once again to a chair, my hard cock in my hand; it looks like I've put make-up on, or someone put it on me--lipstick, it looks like, and some eye shadow, maybe some rouge.  In the pictures, I have different hand-scrawled signs hung around my neck: the signs say PERVERT UNCLE and PATHETIC LOSER and PIECE OF SHIT and INCEST SLAVE.  I don't exactly remember having the pictures taken, but obviously, it happened.  I just have dim, blurred recollections of Katie and Samantha and maybe a couple of other girls--could there have been guys, too?--naked or half-naked, teasing me with their bodies, teasing my cock, rubbing themselves against me, keeping me hard but not letting me cum.  I'm pretty sure they got rough with me this time; they took turns slapping my face, slapping my cock, and then spitting in my face (a couple pictures show my face covered with what had to have been their saliva).  If there were guys there, I think maybe they fucked Katie and Samantha while I watched, and then they came on the girls' tits, and then--jesus, did they make me lick up the cum?  Do I really remember Katie saying, "Does that taste better than my bath water,Uncle Jack?"

I think that at some point during the night I signed a number of blank checks from my checkbook; Katie had told me to bring it with me so we could be sure to have enough money to spend.  I guess I could call my bank to cancel those checks, but of course Katie has those photos...I'm sick at the thought of how much this might cost me, but money is really the least of it.

I think Katie finally allowed me to fuck her; or, I should say, she fucked me.  I was tied to the bed, I think, my cock still hard and aching, my balls swollen with unreleased cum, and different girls mounted me and teased me, just letting the tip of my throbbing cock enter their wet cunts, then getting off of me.  But then it was Katie, and she allowed my cock all the way up inside her, and she rode me hard, her dark hair tossed back, her perfect tits swaying as she moved; I remember her saying, "Is this what you wanted, Uncle Jack?  You wanted to fuck me, didn't you?  You wanted an incest fuck with your niece, didn't you?"  Samantha was kissing me at the same time, I think, and some other girl was reaching from behind Katie to fondle her tits, and another couple was fucking on the other side of the room, and I could feel myself ready to explode, to ejaculate, to finally unleash the cum I'd been saving for Katie...

I woke up naked and on the bathroom floor.  The house was once again silent and empty, and there was absolutely no sign that there had been a party or that anyone had been there the night before.  I walked naked through the house and found nothing and no one.  I steadied myself, took a shower, got dressed, and made some breakfast.  I was just about done eating when Katie walked in the front door.  She greeted me with a smile, a hug, and a cheerful "Good morning, Uncle Jack."  She sat down at the kitchen table and watched me finish breakfast.  "Thanks for letting me spend the night at Samantha's," she said; "what did you do here by yourself last night?"  Utterly confused, I just looked at her.  She laughed.  "Well, I'm sure you had fun, whatever you did.  Just remember, you said you wouldn't tell my mom and dad that I was at Samantha's;" she paused, then said, "and of course I won't tell them anything about what you might have done, either."  She got up from the table, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and went to her room.

I don't know how much of this happened.  I'll find out some of it when I get the bill for her shopping spree (she never showed me what she bought at the mall) and when the blank checks I wrote clear the bank; and, of course, I have the photos that prove indisputably that something, at least, happened.  Though it occurs to me that photos can be faked, photoshopped; I look at the pictures Katie sent and try to decide if they look real, or has my head been photoshopped onto a series of pornographic images...I just don't know.

What I do know is that, the more I think about the weekend, and how I was humiliated and possibly brutalized, taken advantage of, ripped off, drugged, played with, made a fool of: the more I think about it, god help me, the more aroused I become.  And the sooner I want to see my niece Katie (and her friend Samantha) again.