Moving her shoulders slowly and sensuously to move her tit against her father's tongue, Pam continued reaching back ... gently fingering the aroused length of his massively bulging, erect cock ... squirming her ass cheeks against his caressing hand ... running her hands all over his muscular chest ... tickling his balls and causing him to moan with passion.
Pam knew she was in control-that her father would do anything to feel her warm body pressing against his-and she could master his desires whenever he refused to play her way.
CHAPTER ONE
Sitting on the edge of his sister's bed, Hal Ridgeway looked down at the top of her fluffy blond head.
It sure was great that she loved cock the way she did, he thought in sheer bliss. More than great!
Getting much in the way of sex at Hal Ridgeway's age-aside from masturbation-wasn't the easiest thing in the world. There wasn't anything special about him, he was sure. He was average in height, average in looks, not much in athletics. Sure he was smart, but there wasn't much premium on that, in high school. It was the jocks that turned on the girls in Hal's class-as well as in the Freshman, Sophomore, and Senior classes.
His dad's income was better than average, and they lived well and had nice things. But it wasn't as if Mason Ridgeway's income was really terrific or anything. Even when Hal turned sixteen in September, he knew there'd be no Corvette for him, like there had been for Rex Anderson. And very likely . not even a car of his own at all, not for a year or so anyhow.
So, the naked boy thought while his sister licked and sucked his beefy young prick, it sure was nice that Pam Ridgeway liked cock, needed cock, loved cock-and that it was so convenient for them to make it with each other this way!
Not having a mother was rough. Both Hal and Pam had to do extra things around the house. But ... there were compensations. Such as right now. Summertime, bright golden sunshine outside, birds talking it up, insects checking out blossoms, both the Ridgeway teeners out of school-and Dad off at work.
This was a compensation, all right! At least without a mother around, there was no one to check on them, interfere with them and their ... activities. And their father wasn't due home from the office for two hours.
So, happily naked, they were once again in Pam's pretty room of blue and white and pink, playing their favorite game.
Pam, three days past seventeen, ardently licked and munched away at her brothers' dick.
Hal dug it.
So did Pam.
Lemon-sized balls rapped her chin and rolled moistly there. She could feel their silky-soft, damp fur, and she wagged her blond head around his prick to heighten the lovely caressing sensation.
With her eyes closed, Pam was in a little fantasy world as she worked over her brother's nice hard tool.
Surely his pubic hair was spun of silken fluff! How nice it felt! And these nice fat springy balls. She lifted a hand to cup them tenderly, and traced her finger down the seam dividing their hairy pouch.
She sucked, running her head forward and back.
Slurping, sucking sounds arose around his mouth-stuffing tool. With her other hand, she reached up to give a firm, almost vicious pinch to one of her own tense, luridly red and spongy nipples. It was as if she'd jabbed herself with a cattle prod. The kneeling girl grunted around her brother's crimson shaft-and her entire teenage form lurched and trembled under the impact of an unexpected orgasm!
The hot thrills forced a furious twisting of her perspiring little body, and her orgasmic movements were transferred to the stiff prick she held captured in her mouth.
The youth stared down at his sister with a misty look in his eyes, loving what she was doing, entranced by her fervid cocksucking, and more than pleased that she'd come. He groaned, and his legs trembled, even though he was sitting down.
This was one reason it was so good that they, could make it with each other. She was so easy. Pam didn't just like boys. She liked cock. And she didn't just like cock-she loved it. Had to have it. Too, whether it was in her clenching little hand or up her softly blond-furred little pussy, or stuffing up her pretty face this way, she came and came and came, at the most unusual times.
Shit, Hal thought, if she didn't have me, she'd be a fucking whorel And that was something neither he nor she wanted.
Besides, that way their father would be sure to find out, eventually, that his daughter was putting out for-well, probably everybody, the boy thought, if it weren't for me. As for what Mason Ridgeway might do if he were to find out about such a thing-neither Hal nor Pam even dared to think about that.
So. As long as Hal stayed as sexy as he was-and he couldn't imagine anything else!-and the two of them continued to make it together this way and were careful that she always douched real fast afterward, except at times when they knew it was safe-everything was not only cool, but marvelous!
His sister sucked. The boy's cock was on fire. The hot blood raced through his slender young body.
"Ohhh," he moaned. "Oh gosh ... oh Pam-m-m ... oh shit Jesus god that's so GOOD!"
She reacted to that sort of positive reinforcement with a happy sigh and a redoubling of her pleasant activity. Her fingers slid lovingly over his lightly -haired thighs and the firm moons of his ass, pressed outward by his seated position.
The lusty lass hollowed her cheeks deeply as she sucked, in open desire for more cock and for its hot milk. With one cool hand she lovingly fondled his hard young testicles.
He stared down at what she was doing to him, his lovely, willowy, nakedly kneeling sister. Her lips clung and her teeth worked, scrubbing up and down the fat, juice-bursting fruit of his groin, treating it like a mango she was trying to suck out without biting into it.
"P-Pa-a-ammm ... I-I'm gonna-"
Hearing his words and feeling him stiffen, she gripped his thighs tenaciously with both hands and sent her face racing up and down his cock so rapidly that her pale hair blurred even as he stared down at it. It flew all over his thighs.
"Ohh ... uh-uh-uhh ... ungggghAHH!" he groaned out, and his groan rose to a cry of poignant sensation as his semen burst from him.
The girl kept her mouth right where it was, drinking down the thick warm cream and using her tongue over her lips to make sure none of it escaped her gulping, greedy throat.
Knowing that her shuddering brother's prick was terribly sensitive now, especially right at the head, she ceased her sucking and stilled her tongue's lapping caresses. But she kept that spent tool in her face. She knew something a lot of horny older women had found out, and, because of that knowledge, they'd begun to add new thrills to the lives of delivery boys. It was simply that a boy in his mid-teens was one of the most virile and potent studs on the planet.
The shivering youth's climaxed dick had hardly had time to sag before it was stiffening up again. He moved slightly, to allow her balls-caressing fingers to slip up into his sweaty asscrack. That was an extra added turn-on for him, and they both knew it.
Now that she had taken the edge off by gulping down one warm sticky load of sibling semen, she was preparing his cock for another go-this time so that she could get it up her ever-needy snatch. Having shot once, it would last longer. And Pam needed that. She needed a good long reaming-as often as she could get it, and as long as her lover-brother could give it to her before his balls blew.
Now it was back up again, hard and beautifully thick. She spent a long while sliding her soft lips back along the veined, silky-skinned staff, knowing that the boy was watching it emerge from her face, all long and thick and shining with her saliva.
The girl gave it a last hard squeeze and a swift kiss, right on the tip of the large mauve-colored head. Then she looked smiling up at him. She rose slowly, her eyes on his, watching them drop to her naked breasts. The slender, taut-skinned young girl leaned forward to her brother, letting her breasts approach his mouth.
Shapely as new apples and equally firm, pinky-white as the most delicate eggshell, her pointed young tits trembled slightly when he opened his mouth for the entry of the left one. That was the sibling breast he chose, for no particular reason.
With her hands slipping around behind his blond head, the girl pressed him to her, pressed herself to his face. She pushed more and more tight, firm, almost conical bosom-thrust into her brother's mouth. She felt his teeth, now-his mouth was as wide as he could get it and she kept pushing. The sighing blonde looked up past him with misty eyes at the place where the wall and the ceiling came together. "Umm-mmmmm," she sighed happily. Then she twitched and sighed again, for he had slipped one hand up between her slender, firm thighs to cup her hot and lightly furred mound from beneath. He pressed firmly upward with his hand, his fingers slipping into the hot crack between her buttocks; she pressed firmly against him with his teeth denting in the skin of her tight-packed breast.
Then the boy exerted pressure with his hand between her legs and another on her back, and she willingly cooperated as he swung her onto the bed.
She fell onto it, on her back, bouncing, long slender legs flying open and up, breasts jiggling.
He started moving between her legs, with his eyes fixed almost glassily on her pubic bulge, its coating of hair so blond and so sparse as to reveal the pink ridge and its darker, tight-looking crease completely.
"No no, wait," she squealed, her voice already thick with passion and anticipation. "From behind this time, OK?"
Her brother grinned, then made a growling noise, followed by a short bark. Happily smiling, he waited while his sister assumed the doggy position. The willowy girl turned her tight-cheeked young rump up at him, getting her slim thighs well apart. The lips that guarded her hungry hole eased suckingly apart, connected by a little string of her exuding sap and showing him the inner, deeper redness of that ripe young pussy.
He moved in between her calves, on his knees behind her, with his big saliva-glistening dick bobbing wildly around before him in a sort of lecherous little dance.
The girl propped herself on one forearm and looked back at him, between her well-parted legs. Then her other hand came back under her thigh, found his swelling, throbbing cock, and tugged at it. Her fingers guided it between the ripe lips of her open and needy pussy.
She sighed loudly when he took over and pressed it up and into her. In a long, slow glide made easy by her copious inner juicing and his spit-slick prick, the fifteen-year-old boy sent his cock slipping up into the clasping cunt of his seventeen-year-old sister.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," the kneeling girl sighed, and a long involuntary shudder ran all through her bowed body.
The slippery, restlessly moving rod prodded open the swollen, warm, damp lips of her cunt and knifed far into its squirming sanctum.
Hot blasts of pure bliss surged along her nerves, driving her half mad with pleasure and horny want. She pressed back hard against him, keeping them united in a mad frenzy of passion and pleasure.
Unbridled sensuality seethed deep within her itching, burning vagina and made the hot slippery passage slimy with her own exudations. She jerked and shoved her ass back against him. Her heated body was spurred by the aching, ungratified passion of her sensuously responding flesh.
"Here I go!" she cried-and she quivered in a swift twitchy orgasm.
He remained inside her, wagging his hips a little to make his thick staff move around inside her climaxing cunt. The youth could feel it squeezing and relaxing, gripping and easing him in its orgasm. She was all spongy and humid inside the thirsty hollow of that soppy burrow. He loved being in it, loved feeling her come around his implanted cock.
The boy groaned and gasped, hunching over her arched body and shoving hard and fast into the quivering flaccidity of her womb. Beneath her, her elongated breasts bobbed and heaved in a wild, turbulent fury. He was rocking her whole body with his strong surges up her pussy from behind. Her tits felt heavy, fat, swollen, full of tingles and seething sensuousness.
"Oh-oh Hal," she sighed, "fuck me hard, hard!" And the kneeling girl jiggled provocatively.
He was happy to accede to that urgent request. Grasping her up turned bottom cheeks at their outer curves, he held her firmly in place while he began ramming and cramming with all his youthful might.
She squealed and bore down. Every time she added a squeezing pressure, her tight-walled cleft grasped his thick bone like a hot wet hand.
He loved it, and he loved his rampaging movements, and he groaned as he dragged out of that cuntal clutch only to hunch back in with all his strength.
His distended cockhead drubbed the spongy neck of his sister's uterus while its swollen staff hurled wide her soft sex lips, making of them a straining pink ring. Her sinuous body trembled under ecstatic thrills and she made little squealing sounds of total pleasure, quivering in the full rapture of just-seventeen-womanhood with her brother's cock drubbing up her pussy from behind.
He fucked and fucked her, slamming and jerking, cramming in deep and swinging his hips, then jerking back to slam forward again with loud slaps of body against youthfully tight body. The boy's blood was a roaring pressure in his ears, a rampaging torrent in his veins. Sweat broke out on him, began streaming down. He had become just what she wanted him to be: a rapist, slamming and hammering her ass with his body and straightening out her v clasping cleft into a long gripping tube with the lunging length of his dick.
Moaning, stiffening, he kept right on pumping mightily even when he started to come. She moaned beneath his lunges, and beneath the hot squirts of semen she was young and tight enough to feel jetting into her pussy.
As usual, that brought her off still again in a squirmy orgasm.
Hal was still squirting semen up his sister's vagina from behind when he heard his father's stricken voice from the doorway behind him: "Oh my GOD!"
Mason Ridgeway was home early.
CHAPTER TWO
The tall woman's entire appearance was a cliche. Andrea Haider looked her part, ridiculously.
Almost gaunt, her face was finely chiseled and handsome if hardly beautiful ... and utterly without makeup. Gleaming jet-black hair was tugged tightly back into a large bun behind her head to reveal large-lobed ears pierced by small rings of gold. Her spectacles were large, masculine-looking with their plain black frames, and tinted so deep a gray that her eyes looked older than they-probably-were. She held her mouth tightly so that it was sexless and unfeminine, whether she was talking or just sitting there with straight, clamped lips.
Not only was she swallowed up in a long-sleeved black dress with a high white collar, like a nineteenth-century housekeeper or governess, but she wore, also, a plain, loose smock of unrelieved gray over the dress.
"You probably do not need these assurances, Mister Ridgeway," she told Hal's father, "but Hal will be well taken care of here, in every way. His diet will be better chosen than-please pardon me-if his own mother were feeding him. He will learn, and he'll be no rude teenager when it is time for him to return to school in the fall. As to...." The woman looked down. " ... sex," she went on, in a lower voice, "he will not have time to think about it, Mister Ridgeway. He will be busy, as an energetic and strong youth should be. Here, look out the window."
Andrea Haider rose from behind her desk and clumped to the window on ugly, stubby, square-heeled shoes. Her skirt, Mason Ridgeway saw, was the worst possible length-it fell to just above her ankles, making them look thick even in the ugly black stockings he could see above the laced black oxfords.
He joined her at the window, to look out at the long, broad back yard that stretched out, field-like, to the woods in which her pleasant country house was set. A boy was pacing along that handsomely green vista, behind a power mower. He was oddly overdressed in jeans and combat boots and long-sleeved blue shirt, but even from here Ridgeway could see that the youth's face was nicely tanned and healthy in appearance.
"While none of the six boys presently here works over four hours a day, Mister Ridgeway," Andrea Haider said in her clipped way, "they do work, and when they retire they are ready for a good, wholesome and body-building night's sleep."
"He isn't in danger, wearing all those clothes in the hot sun, is he?"
Shei smiled. "Farmers have been dressing just that way for many years, Mister Ridgeway. The long sleeves and trousers and those army surplus boots are for his protection-I have nothing but respect for power machinery such as that mower, and I want to make certain my boys are not injured, even in the tiniest way by a bit of flying twig that a storm may have blown from one of the trees."
Mason nodded. "I'm honestly glad to hear that, Mrs. Haider. I admit to being nervous when I see boys in tennis shoes or with bare feet, mowing a yard in cut-off jeans. You know what else I like?" He smiled at the woman, who was only a couple of inches-in her two-inch heels-short of his height, which was a fraction over six feet.
"Why no, Mister Ridgeway-what's that?"
"I heard you call them 'your' boys," the man told her.
Mrs. Haider sighed, glancing back at Hal, seated so still and nervous-looking over against the wall, just under her framed degree in social anthropology.
"I-think of them that way, yes. This is hardly a prison, Mister Ridgeway. A place of correction and learning, yes, but-it is also a home, my home, and comfortable. I do like having boys around, helping them to become young men and to get over the-oh surely perfectly normal urges that convinced their parents to bring them here-rather than allow them to continue in their, uh, unusual ways and perhaps wind up in trouble with the law. Your Hal-and what a nice-looking boy you are, Hal!-will be a different sort of young man when he returns to you at the end of the summer, Mister Ridgeway."
"You mentioned daughters, Mrs. Haider....I know you are a widow. Have you no male help about?"
She fixed him with her steady gaze and spoke sternly to him-at the same time as she pressed a button on a small, three-button box on her desktop. "One hardly needs guards, Mister Ridgeway. Certainly I have no bad boys, no violent boys here. As to other help, the cooking and so on-this is a family business. Ah, here's my Vanessa now."
Mason Ridgeway and his son looked at the girl who appeared in the doorway, first tapping at the jamb.
Poor baby, Mason thought.
The girl was large, tall and broad of shoulder like her mother, also without makeup, and with her dark red hair drawn tightly back to emphasize every plane and angle in her bony face. She wore terribly thick glasses that made her greenish-brown eyes look freakishly huge, and she had a bad case of buck teeth. Apparently about eighteen, the young woman wore a work shirt of blue chambray and shapeless jeans-working men's style, rather than the voguish tight-topped, bell-bottomed style worn by other girls her age. The shirt was loose, so that she appeared waistless and breastless.
"Vanessa," Mrs. Haider said, "these are Mister Mason Ridgeway and his son Hal. My daughter, Vanessa Haider-an excellent cook, I assure both of you."
Ten minutes later, having left behind his check for the .first month's "tuition" at Andrea Haider's special private correctional school, and having signed the paper handing over his son to her for a period of ten weeks-from now, mid-June, through the 25th of August-Mason Ridgeway drove away. He had hugged his son one last time, and had left feeling both happy and confident that the boy was in good hands.
And safely away from Pam, on whom Mason meant to keep a very close watch indeed. Naturally, their sexual activity had to be the boy's fault....
By the time he reached the secondary highway three-quarters of a mile from the lovely old country house of weathered red brick, his son was being escorted into a tiled room by two boys of about his age. The big room was like a small school's locker room, with three stalls, three sinks, and two showers. Just inside the door, a clean pair of jeans and a white teeshirt hung on a wall-mounted rack.
Vanessa, who had followed Jesse and Randy as they escorted their new companion here, waited just outside.
"I do not enter the boys' private restroom," she said, with a buck-toothed smile. "We will leave you now, Hal. Please just take a nice shower-use the far one-and put on these clothes. They will fit you nicely, I'm sure. Someone will be waiting, up the hall to the left."
Vanessa and the two boys departed. The door swung shut. With a long sigh, Hal Ridgeway checked all three toilet stalls, then began stripping.
Leo looked up from where he was mowing at the woman striding across the sprawling yard toward him. He saw that she'd changed out of that hokey crap she put on for the parents of new inmates in this place.
Now she looked normal again, the unnecessary glasses discarded and her eyes deeply mascaraed and blue-lidded, her lips lightly purpled, and the big gold loops, slender but nearly three inches in diameter, swinging from the smaller ones piercing her ears, scintillant in the sunlight. The skin-hugging, pale purple bodyshirt was straining over her big tits, their upper curves and deep, dark cleavage visible in its deeply v'd front. The shirt was stuffed into her black whipcord jodhpurs, which in turn vanished into high-heeled kneeboots of gleaming black. The big black kidney belt just accentuated her nipped-in waist and the flare of her hips-as well as the big jiggly tits Leo knew were so white and thick of nipple.
Oh god the boy thought miserably, she's so beautiful-and she looked so ugly when Dad and Mom brought me here! They think she's OK, and that this is just a normal ... place.
On the other hand, back then she'd looked just stern, not mean. She hadn't let them see the whip, either.
She carried it now, as she approached him. The tall woman of thirty-nine, who looked forty-five in her bullshit impress-the-parents outfit and only about thirty now, was whacking the crop against her boot. Crack, it said, and echoing back from the trees: Crack!
She made a swift gesture; Leo killed the mower's engine.
"You appear to be doing very well, Leo dear," she said, glancing about the yard. "Would you like the shirt off now?"
"Oh yes please, Miz Haider-I'm burning up!"
Smiling, Andrea pushed her riding crop into the little loop sewn on the outside of the right leg of her jodhpurs. Then she began rolling up the sleeves of the sixteen-year-old's shirt, to reveal the locked cuffs of black leather by which his wrists were attached to the mower's handles.
Quivering all over, Hal Ridgeway stood naked under the forgotten shower. He was staring through the hole he had found in the wall-a hole that went all the way through and into the room next door: the women's restroom!
He didn't know what had become of Vanessa's glasses, but she seemed able to see perfectly well without them. Her two big rabbity front teeth had vanished, too. They had obviously been caps, for her own teeth were there, and they were quite nice. So was her face and hair, since she'd unbound it and allowed it to hang softly about her face and over her shoulders. My gosh, the boy thought-Dad saw a fake!
The rest of her was nice, too. She was undressing, and she was down to nothing but her panties, now. Her shoulders were broad-but her waist was certainly not thick, as he'd thought. She was shaped very, very much like a woman indeed. Her breasts were probably about the size of his sister's, though Vanessa was considerably taller and all-around larger; a bigger woman. He liked them; they were beautifully jiggly, as if loosely hung on her chests by springs. Her bottom was large, very round and protuberant-excitingly so, with the tight and shapely muscularity much in evidence in her skimpy and almost-sheer orange bikini panties-which also afforded a clear view of the deep crack dividing those jouncy nether-globes.
Vanessa was a long-legged girl, about five-foot-nine, and her thighs and calves were large, muscular, and well rounded.
Hal already had a hard-on. It just got harder as he watched the sexy young woman, her back turned, peel down her flimsy orange panties to display jiggly hinder parts snuggled smoothly together. Those asscheeks were a very pale pink in color.
He jumped a little and his heart pounded when he heard a voice, but it was from the other room. Another girl!
"Oh baby-how irresistible you look!"
"Hello, little sister," the naked redhead said, striking pose and staring at the newcomer.
She entered the hole-in-the-wall field of Hal's vision. A plump and titsy brunette, shorter than Vanessa, she wore a jiggly, bouncy halter top of slinky black nylon and low-slung black jeans that pinched her hips.
Not for long. She came straight to Vanessa and began fondling the redhead's tits, while Vanessa immediately undid the other girl's black hip-huggers.
"Ummm ... umm, Sabra, that feels good ... Vanessa murmured.
"Damned right they feel good," the plump and black-haired Sabra said, and she sucked up a breath to expedite the removal of her pants. They dropped. Hal blinked. The girl wore no panties.
She also wore very little hair. The lip-area of her pussy had been carefully shaved, while the silky-looking black fleece above that pursed mound that had been left in place, forming a decorative crotch that was very sexy indeed.
While the quaking Hal stood there staring through the convenient hole piercing the wall, the sisters began stroking each other, moaning softly.
Sabra fondled and pressed the redheaded Vanessa's naked tits, while the taller girl slipped her hand into the brunette's partially shaven crotch and toyed with her puffy, beautifully slashed pubis.
Hal's hand enwrapped his naked, shower-wet erection. He began sliding it up and down along the shaft, hardly noticing as he stared at the lovemaking in the adjacent room. It was perverse in two different ways at once: the girls were not only playing lesbian games, they were sisters.
Hal watched the way the plump brunette squeezed the high-perched rounds of her sister's tits between her fingers, prodding and poking the firm, compact flesh. Then she pressed in forcefully, almost flattening each well-fleshed, ripe tit.
Staring avidly at the lasciviously fondling, sighing sisters, the enthralled boy manipulated his own hard-on. His fisted hand slid steadily up and down the risen staff of sexuality, stroking more feeling and throbbing need into his virile youthful organ. Around and over him the warm water of the shower sluiced down. Hal paid it no attention. His entire attention was fastened on the staggering seductiveness of the two firm and satiny female bodies in the adjacent room, and what they were doing.
The two young women now pressed their naked bodies together and ground slowly, without great force.
Each sister slipped her hands onto the smooth ripeness of the other's tensing ass. Their sensation-filled crotches rubbed and ground together, the shorter Sabra rising onto her tiptoes to make the milky contours of her big white tits roll over her sibling's slightly smaller breasts. The flesh of all four sexy balls of flesh was mashed outward into new and straining shapes.
"Ummm," Hal heard Vanessa sigh, "your pussy feels so nice, little sister!"
"Your hands are nice on it!" Sabra said with a shudder.
The thighs and buttocks of each girl quivered, and their calves stood out in bold sinewy tension as they began to strain against each other.
Imagining that it was the hot, meaty interior of Sabra's shaven snatch that enveloped his cock, Hal hand-stroked the swollen staff. An unleashed current of jolting lust flowed through the quivering boy's slender young body as he gazed hotly at the lez-loving Haider sisters.
Hal reached up to turn off the shower water. That way he could better hear the sighs and moans of the two lecherous chicks. Now he leaned his head against the tiles, watching two of Sabra's fingers vanish into the deep cleft between her sister's large, jutting asscheeks.
This "school" won't he so had, Hal thought, with male ego. If those two are this horny, they're hound to prefer a good male cock-like mine!-to each other and rubbing around that way!
"Aha! Now what have I found?" a voice demanded from behind him, with scornful triumph.
His heart jumping halfway into his mouth, Hal Ridgeway whirled about. Wider and wider went his blue eyes. He was gazing at a super-sexy apparition-and a frighteningly menacing, dominating one.
She stood in the center of the restroom, less than seven feet from the naked boy-whose cock was still grasped, forgotten, in his hand. Her eyes blazed. Her big bosom rose and fell turbulently within the tight, shining bodyshirt of pale purple. Molded in the black jodhpurs, the tall woman's legs were well parted, booted feet wide-set.
She looked much younger, and ball-tighteningly sexy, but ... many seconds of confusion ensued before he realized that she had to be....
"M-Miz Haider?"
"Who else, you scummy little dogshit? Having peeping torn on my sweet daughters, are you? And what's that obscene thing in your hand, you nasty boy?"
Hal hadn't yet assimilated Andrea's "new identity," much less his situation. Badly shaken, thoroughly confused and wishing he were elsewhere ... far, far elsewhere, he gulped. At her words, the naked fifteen-year-old spent several seconds in confused indecision. Then he jerked his hand away from his cock.
Immediately the rigidly erect organ snapped up to slap noisily against his belly. Hal stared down at it. His hands trembled. They leaped over, both of them, in the ancient gesture, to cover his genitals.
It was then that Vanessa and Sabra Haider walked into the boy's restroom. Each was close to twice as appealing now, in the miniest of mini-panties that barely covered their lower bellies and upper thighs-moulded perfectly the bulging sex mounds of both girls. Each was otherwise naked. The thrustful mounds of their tits jiggled and flaunted their bare pink crests.
The Haider sisters looked questioningly at their mother. Andrea gestured. They advanced on the wide-eyed, naked Hal.
Before the boy could decide what to do about the onslaught of two nearly nude girls, he was their prisoner. Strong cords bound his wrists up to the showerhead. He was a helpless captive of the three females.
The girls looked at their mama.
"He was jerking off," Andrea said. "The boy needs relief. Jack him off."
"Hey-"
"Shut up, little boy," Vanessa said, looking directly into his eyes. He and she were both barefoot, like her shorter sister. Hal was five-eight; Vanessa Haider, like her mother, was his height.
She shoved her high and bold tits against his naked chest, using her shoulders to make the tits mash around over his flesh, while black-tressed Sabra wrapped her warm hand around his powerfully throbbing hard-on. She began pumping.
"Ah-ohhhh, ummmmm-no, you can't doahhhhhh!" The boy writhed and flushed with pleasure as her hand slipped up and down, up and down the tumid pole of his penis.
A few minutes later a twitching, writhing, gasping Hal Ridgeway spurted his seed out over the floor of the restroom. The white fluid didn't splatter quite as far as Andrea's boots. A last long sigh escaped Hal....
But Sabra began using her muskmelon tits to caress the boy, while Vanessa took over the task of beating his meat.
Hal groaned, writhed, tugged at the leather cords with which he was bound to the showerhead above. Useless. He was bound there, standing upright, until they chose to release him. And they did not choose to. Helpless and terribly humiliated, Hal suffered himself to be jacked off again, because he had no choice.
Dressed like a sex queen dominatrix, the thirty-nine-year-old brunette watched with cool, pitiless eyes. Her daughters, nineteen-year-old Vanessa, and Sabra, who was seventeen, rubbed and caressed and masturbated their captive. And the boy, almost-but-not-yet sixteen, could only writhe and groan and chew his lip as unwanted pleasure flowed all through his tight-skinned young body.
His penis was beginning to hurt by the time he shot his second load onto the tiled restroom floor. It was a mass of painful flesh, and they went right on, so that he was groaning and wincing constantly when Vanessa made it spurt the third time.
Then Sabra took over again.
Hal pleaded. He squirmed, groaned, shed tears that streamed down his face and splashed off the lovely nude breasts Vanessa rubbed sensuously over his hard chest. He moaned repeatedly, feeling the mounting pain all along the shaft of his newly erect prick. The constantly frictioned shank was now a deep, angry scarlet. Here and there her sweaty hand burned him, and he knew the overdone wanking of his dick had actually rubbed raw areas on it.
Andrea Haider looked on, smiling coldly and superciliously, while her daughters tormented the boy with too much sex ... while giving him no sex at all. Her upper lip lifted in a contemptuous demonstration as his semen was forced out for the fourth time ... and this time there were only a few cheesy, yellow clots that could hardly be called fluid.
"I think," Vanessa said, nibbling Hal's nipple with teasing sensuousness, "that our little boy is all fucked out."
"I think not," Andrea said levelly, and she stared cool-eyed at the sweaty boy. "One more time, darlings."
"One-no no! My god NO!" Hal cried out. "You CANT! It HURTS!"
"Vanessa, Sabra," Andrea said. "This nasty creature is here because his father came in early one day to find him fucking his own sister. He's an incorrigible sex-fiend, with plenty of semen to spend. Now ... help him spend it."
They began, or rather re-began. Slowly that red, rope-like penis gained new length and thickness. Soon Hal was shamelessly weeping, and shamefully too, for he could not help it. It was agony, what they were doing to him.
Nearly fainting, Hal sobbed, moaned, scrubbed his naked butt painfully against the wall in his fruitless efforts to back away from the torment. But there was no escape, and no surcease. The pain continued. The debasing abuse and humiliation continued, as Sabra masturbated his flaming prick.
When his semen at last popped forth the fifth time, Sabra was complaining about a sore arm. The pain of coming made Hal scream-and the shivering boy was almost fainting. His peter looked like a piece of raw meat.
The three sadistic bitches left him there, bound under the showerhead, with a thin trickle of cold water pattering down onto his flaming, pain-throbbing penis.
CHAPTER THREE
The next day Hal Ridgeway began his new life in the private "school" by going to the kitchen as ordered. There he took up that duty that had ling been the bane of the army buck private.
He'd been nearly unconscious when the Haider girls returned to the restroom, seemingly hours later. Once they had untied him, they had to hold him up. Long drawn up and bound, his arms were useless. The girls smoothed soothing cold cream all over his skinned pecker, then forced him to don a pair of plain white nylon panties; both of them were broader in the hips than he, and they pointed out that male cotton shorts or just denim jeans would be mighty rough against his "poor little clit-imitator." Over the panties he drew on shirt and jeans, and then he ate a good and nourishing meal with the other six boys.
He'd had no trouble getting to sleep, and the other six "inmates" hadn't so much as grinned when they saw the panties he wore.
The next morning Hal learned that each of them had also been tricked into masturbating and had been caught, on arrival, just as he had. No one dared warn a new boy. Andrea-and her daughters-used the whip he'd seen.
Now he peeled potatoes. It was something Hal Ridgeway had never done before in his life. He worked for two hours, rubbing his right palm raw. He also cut himself twice, and butchered a lot of potatoes. For that he was punished: he had to run enough laps around the property to make up two miles. Sabra saw that he stuck with it: on her special bike, she followed the newcomer with a whip, and she did not hesitate to cut viciously at his legs with it.
Her bike was equipped with training wheels, lest one of the boys should turn on her and try to shove her over.
On the fourth lap, she made the exhausted Hal turn onto a path that led into the woods. Soon the house was out of sight on the other side of thick-set trees and bushes. The plump brunette with the big springy breasts made him stop there-and she stripped, slowly and sensuously, deliberately putting on a show for him.
Once she was naked, she cupped her own breasts, raising them, squeezing, firming the nipples. Her eyes were arch, teasing.
"Want me, Hal?"
Hal moaned and quivered. Even as bad off as he was from the horror of yesterday, his sore cock rising at this sexy sight-and it was agony.
Yes, he wanted her. But he couldn't fuck, even had she allowed it, and Hal added to his own degradation: in front of that grinning young bitch, the boy wept.
That night Hal had to watch while another boy his age, Jerry, licked Andrea Haider to orgasm.
His face was soon wet with her body's flowing juices. She was naked, but for a big-cupped, thoroughly stuffed brassiere of black satin, waist-high black panty hose with the entire crotch and most of the belly-area cut out, and the shining black, heeled kneeboots. Her whip was at the ready. The big gold circles swung from her ears, jingling against the smaller rings that pierced the large lobes.
Her vulva was trimmed just as Sabra's was: the lips nakedly shorn of hair, but a thick thatch of shining black fleece barring her belly just above the top of the long crimson slit with its fat glistening lips.
Between her outstretched legs as she sat on a plushy padded chair, young Jerry knelt. He wore only a pair of blue nylon bikini panties-which were too small for him and hurt his cock when it thickened and rose.
Looking on were Hal, Vanessa, and Sabra. All three Haiders had whips. Sabra wore low-slung red jeans, and nothing else; her sister's long body was decorated with a transparent bodyshirt of sheer nylon, the kind used in making stockings.
The seated Andrea shivered in delight and sighed as Jerry buried his brown-haired head in her crotch and sent his tongue wiggling between her labia to seek out the viscous ooze of her secretions.
"Yes, yes," she gasped out in a constricted voice. "Lick it, you little fucker! Get that tongue in there, or your ass will be red as a tomato for the next week!"
He strove to please, working hard. She began rocking deliriously, chinning and thrashing about, trying to syncopate the movement of her big hips to the steady cadence of the boy's plunging tongue.
Jerry found her twitching slippery-sheathed clitoris. Running his tongue out long, the youth felt the little knob of flesh stiffen against its questing tip. Her groaning and powerful jerking movements were totally involuntary. She gasped out throaty encouragements, insulting him again and again, letting Hal know the boy was here because he'd been found playing sex-games with the family dog.
Great shivers went through Andrea Haider's big-boned body, a body that was so well kept and in tone that it looked far younger than its age. The desire that built up in her creaming pussy shook her flexing form and her strong thighs pressed warmly, firmly, against his face, enclosing it in their firm softness and sweaty skin and sensuously sleek nylons.
The kneeling youth slurped and rooted into her crotch. The tender pink lips of her mature cunt darkened and quivered under his lips and busy tongue. She tensed and squirmed. Faint, sighing groans slipped from her helplessly parted lips.
At last a soul-satisfying orgasm sent the big dominatrix into a palsied frenzy of jerks and grunting hunching motions. Her juices were thus smeared all over the youth's flushed face.
"He's a good boy, he is," Andrea purred, stroking Jerry's face with her whip. "Sabra ... take him away and reward him."
Hal wondered, noting how happy Jerry was as Sa bra took him by the hand and led him out of the room, her big titties moving constantly.
He's broken, Hal Ridgeway thought. He does whatever they say, and like a dog, too. Then they reward him with a bone-or maybe his bone up inside Sabra, I guess.
That was a very pleasant prospect. But ... Hal was not ready to give in. More, he was determined not to. He might be only fifteen, he thought, but dammit he was a man, and he'd act like one.
So he refused to kneel between Vanessa's legs when she took her mother's place in the chair of female domination.
So ... he was stripped, whipped across the thighs, and stretched, bound, on the floor. Leaving her bodyshirt on but opening the three snaps at its crotch, Vanessa squatted over Hal's face.
He could smell her red-furred cunt. He could see its parting lips, and the glistening moisture just inside. She was clean. It smelled good. He had eaten pussy before-his sister's. But he refused still again, now, when Vanessa and her mother ordered him to "Get your tongue in there and lick that good woman-meat, you little sister-fucking turd!"
Helplessly bound, there was nothing Hal could do about it when Vanessa hunched up until her cunt was over his face. Then, opening its slippery soft labes with her own fingers, she lowered herself until her open vulva's tight, rubbery mouth covered the youth's nose and lips.
Her hands on his head and her thighs crimping it on either side held it in place, and soon Hal Ridgeway knew that he must do what he was told, or ... smother to death in wet, savory pussy!
But not until his head felt as if it was about to burst and his ears were roaring did the bound boy run his tongue up into the hot folds of the girl's face-enveloping pussy.
Instantly she quivered and moved, rising slightly and easing back just a little, so that he could breathe. Just as quickly, once he had his breath, Hal pulled his pussy-wet tongue back into his mouth.
"Hit him, Mother. The little donkeyshit quit again!"
Hal tensed, but nothing could prepare him for the burning whipstroke Andrea landed on his outstretched thighs. He knew the lash had fallen just below his genitals, which added fear to the pain.
"Now you'll just get more of that, baby-boy," Vanessa told him with a sneer, "and more smothering too, if you don't just give me a nice cuntlapping. You can be a stupid hero, and wind up doing it anyway, or you can play it cool and smart now, and-eat cunt!" Then: CRACK, said Andrea's whip, and "Owwww!" cried the lurching Vanessa, and her mother said, "I don't like that sort of language from you, little girl."
Hmmm, Hal thought, so she lords it over them, too. huh? She is some woman!
"I'm sorry, Mother. I-I try to imitate you, I guess. And overdo it."
"I guess you do," Andrea agreed. "Now Hal, get your little tongue up into my sweet daughter. You'll love it-and if you don't start licking within just ten seconds, you get five good hard lashes anyhow. One-two-"
Hal began cuntlapping.
It was nothing new to him, though he wasn't wild about it-and the enforcement and this position, with the big girl sitting astride him, pressing her juicing cleft down onto his face, was both new and abhorrent.
He began curling and flickering his tongue up into the sighing, shivering young woman. Sighs of passionate enjoyment escaped her and warm sticky juices came sparkling out of the slit fruit of her cunt. He pushed closer, and began to work at the whole of her open vulva, sucking and licking at the pliant lips of her blood-congested pussy.
More and more aphrodisiac liquor seeped from the satin oval hole. Helplessly, he drank it.
Vanessa came, squealing and jouncing-but they made him tongue her to still another orgasm. That time it wasn't just sticky female come that she allowed to flow over his mouth and chin and shoulders. She and her mother both laughed aloud at this ritual of humiliation and masculine degradation.
Then Hal received his reward for the lingual efforts that had pleased the nasty bitch so much: the two women twice jacked off his sore penis. Then they greased it again, and allowed him to go to bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
A week had passed since Mason Ridgeway had left his son in the care of Andrea Haider. It had not been an easy week for him. The pressure of work in the company where he was office manager was only a little greater. But there was another pressure.
Not only were relations strained between himself and the daughter he now watched with a hawk's eye, but he thought almost constantly about Hal, and that place.
Mason just couldn't be sure he had been right in taking the boy there and leaving him. There was little trouble between them, only the usual between generations, between father and son. But Mason was a young thirty-eight, and he and his son had gotten along. Even though he was sure that taking steps was necessary once he'd found that his son and daughter were incestuous lovers, Mason Ridgeway felt something approaching guilt.
He made two errors at the office because of his preoccupation with thoughts of his son, and one of them resulted in strained relations: he had come down far too hard on Ethel Gibson for what really wasn't that big an error. There was an additional problem; he had trouble too with his "girl."
He and Dolly Hughes had continued their relationship for over a year, in and out of bed-though what was mostly there, he knew, was their mutual need for sex. The short slender brunette, divorced at age twenty-nine, was now thirty-two and a definite sexual animal-as Mason was. (He was sure that, logical or not, his son had inherited his high libido and sexual predilections.) A few nights ago, mentally miserable from more than one source, Mason had gotten a little too rough with Dolly, who had just discovered women's lib and had embraced it a little too readily. She was much into its symbols and trappings-that is, using the word "woman" for practically anything female above the age of thirteen or so, objecting to any form of lovemaking that hinted of masculine domination, and the like. She was also a chatterbox.
So they'd had an argument, which Mason felt was about as much his fault as hers.
Now he lived in a tense office situation and a tense home situation with his daughter Pam. Too, he worried about Hal, "alone" in Andrea Haider's odd little private school ... and Mason was horny, besides.
Unaware that his daughter was too, he happily accepted the martini with which she greeted him on his arrival home from the office. He carried it with him while he changed into wash pants and a shorty shave-robe of white-trimmed blue terry cloth. Then he complained that, in changing, he'd hardly tasted the martini. His daughter announced that she hadn't made just one. She drew the tall pitcher from the refrigerator to refill his glass with the icy cold, clear liquid that tasted so good.
What was left in the pitcher was about a half, and he drank that, quickly, before he sat down to an astonishingly superb dinner: his just-seventeen daughter had prepared a fancy French dish from the cookbook they hardly ever used.
Pam didn't mention the large amount of wine she had decanted into her father's main course....
But, like an anxious-to-please daughter most anxious to make up, she hurried to fetch him a brandy as soon as he'd finished off his meal and was reaching for a cigarette even while congratulating her, again and again.
The little scoop-neck blouse and abbreviated white tennis skirt she wore were entirely too enticing, but he said nothing. It was, after all, hot. And she was, after all, his daughter. He told himself he wasn't paying any attention to the jiggle and judder of her pretty, youthful knockers in the blouse, or to the way the shorts cut right up into her crotch so deeply as to separate the mound there and indicate clearly her cunt's full lips.
She smelled good, too, he learned when she bent across him to set the brandy snifter before him. And-oh god he was getting a semi-erection-but how could a man tell his own teenage daughter not to rub her tits on him?-particularly when she'd obviously tried so hard to please him tonight, was obviously so interested in making amends for the trouble they'd had over her wallowing with her brother....
... Mason had a vision of her naked, bowed body, the tight skin and her upturned ass, and he drank hurriedly....
When a man is both troubled and horny ... has no idea that his daughter is deliberately setting out to seduce him ... and a little woozy with alcohol ... he is an easy make.
Feeling a bit knocked out, he was lying back on the couch when she entered the living room, having washed the dishes.
"That robe looks comfortable," she observed, bending over her father to pat his terry-covered stomach. "I think I'll just go change into mine. Anything I can get you first, Daddy?"
"No sweetheart," he told her, patting her hip and accidentally getting a feel of extremely warm thigh when his hand slipped loosely. "I feel mighty good and well-fed. You're taking awfully good care of your old Dad tonight."
She smiled. "I'm glad," she said, bending to kiss his crown-and causing his eye to flare wide at the one-inch proximity of a light nylon blouse straining out with the pressure of the unbound breast inside it. "But I sure would dispute that word 'old,'" the girl said, surely not aware that her crotch was against his elbow.
With a little chuckle, she went off in the direction of her bedroom.
When she returned, wearing her short yellow robe loosely sashed over absolutely nothing but her own smooth lovely skin, her father was half asleep. Pam took that in-and took in, too, the lump behind his fly. A tremor went through her.
He was half-hard. Oh god-I've got to have that!
He awoke to a smothering sensation: his daughter had seated herself pertly on the edge of the couch beside him and was leaning over him. Her arms braced his face warmly, and her hands were in his hair. His robe had slipped partway open. Through hers, he could feel the pressure of a firm teenage breast against his chest-as she bent over him, softly kissing him.
"Oh darling-I'm so sorry. Please tell me it's all right. I don't want us to be enemies-I love you!"
Mason Ridgeway was still disconcerted as he slid his hand up her back, feeling its warmth right through her little robe, and patted her.
"I love you too, honey," he murmured, trying not to be obvious about getting his mouth away from her lips. "We're not enemies, Pammy."
"Ohh-I'm so glad!" she enthused, and she kissed him again, firmly, cloyingly, on the mouth.
Now he had to be unobtrusive about rearranging his big erection. But-he couldn't struggle away from the sweetly penitent girl, or tell her to get away, not now when she was so intent on making up their trouble, in clearing away the tension that had been between them since the day ... the day ... the day....
Again that ravishing vision of his naked daughter swarmed into his mind. This time it wouldn't leave. Neither would his hard-on. The pressure of her almost hard young breast remained, too. And now, as she wriggled, her hip was brushing his big erection. Her hair slid down so that it partially covered his face in sweet-scented silk. With that interrupted vision, and her warmth as she hugged his head and kissed him, and the alcohol in his system, and his horniness, it was as if he were slipping away into an other world, or onto another plane, of not-quite-reality.
He returned her kiss. His hand slid down her willowy back. He bit back his groan, as her warm young hip pressed his groin. Her breast was like a heated baseball against his chest.
Her tongue traced over his lower lip. Without thinking about what he was doing, he touched its tip with his own tongue. She moaned and held him more tightly, pressing down onto him, kissing him with more and more warmth. She was squirming. His cock felt that movement, right through his pants....
"Ohhhh, ummm, that feels so nice," she murmured into his mouth.
That was his first awareness that his hand now lay on her upturned ass, half on her robe and half on her intensely warm, silky-smooth and very firm skin.
He felt suddenly desperate, and tried to will himself to heave up. He could not. She clung. His hand left her ass-but moved onto the satiny back of her thigh. He felt it tense. She kept kissing him. His world seemed to spin around him, and there was an overwhelming hum in his ears.
Mason slipped away from reality and into a warm perfumed pink world of pleasure and sensuousness. It was all so nice. Out of touch, he drifted, hardly aware of what he was doing. His daughter's efforts and his needs and the alcohol in him combined to make his cock seize control over his mind....
And the soft-skinned, firm-fleshed breast in his mouth felt and tasted so nice ... the soft sleek skin and gentle curves of her buttocks felt so good under his caressing hands ... her hair was so nice on his face and chest ... so was her hand, gently tweezering his nipple, which he knew was just as erect as the one in his mouth, though considerably smaller....
He was sucking now, forcefully, his teeth holding the nipple in place so that she dared not try to swing her shoulders and flip the trembling teat away from his face. She moaned and quivered.
Her hand was warm, he knew, but it felt cool against the definitely hot flesh of his rearing, naked cock....
She spoke not a word, having gotten him so interested, and now having gotten his zipper down and his thick sturdy dick in her hand. She certainly did not want to break whatever spell he was in! Pam just wanted ... him!
Moving her shoulders slowly and sensuously to move her tit against his tongue, she continued reaching back, gently fingering the aroused and turgid length and breadth of his massively bulging, standing tool-and squirming her bottom's roundly mounded cheeks against his caressing hand.
A little sigh escaped the horny girl when his hand delved between her thighs from behind, to brush her slightly parted pussy, which was already wet. She contrived to sink back and down on that hand, getting a fingertip into herself as far as the slippery inner labes.
"Oh," he groaned, suddenly shivering, "oh dear god-"
She pretended not to notice. Fearful that he was about to recover from his sensual enchantment and destroy all she had thus far achieved, the cockhappy girl slid her hand up and down his cock in masturbatory movements that made it jerk and throb against her palm and caressing fingertips.
She was just about to begin easing back, to try to capture the broad head of that lovely organ with her pussy, when he suddenly made a growling sort of noise and tumbled her to the floor. He came after her, with her, hanging on. She paid no attention to the sudden pain in her left elbow and to the bone underlying the full pad of her left buttock.
For, without looking at her, his head up past hers and almost his entire weight on her, he was bending his right leg, raising his right hip, reaching down and shoveling his big prick into the long parting slash that split the perfect bowl shape of his daughter's mound. He pressed it home.
Immediately she spread-eagled herself, already writhing ecstatically beneath her father's sweating, lusting weight. Her hands pulled, and her body hunched. All in silence and without their eyes meeting, the groaning father sent his cock twitching and gliding up his daughter's clever clenching pussycleft.
She didn't stop squirming and tugging until the big turgid dome of his prick was w-edged far up inside her soft, tight, but ever-expanding burrow.
Moaning, the delighted teenager tensed and clamped down in an effort to suck him off with her pussy. Her eyes sparkling, her mouth stretched into a delighted smile, her hands holding him firmly on her-and in her-she began fucking herself on her daddy's wonderful cock.
She was afire with heavenly sensations from that big bulging hunk of man crashing full and hard and hot inside her burningly needful body.
Aware of nothing but the soft heat of her flesh, squirming against his both inside and out, vibrating with passion, he fucked her. The half-delirious man fucked into his daughter with a wild, desperate furor of strokes that made her groan with the impacts of his trousered crotch against her naked one.
Sighing and smiling happily, the squirming blonde popped off one of her easily gained orgasms.
He was a being of pure sensation. Enwrapped in a hot dark world of carnal pleasure, he heard nothing, saw nothing. He only felt. His hairy groin pressed snugly into the softly furred bulging mons of the girl beneath him as he lay stretched joyously between the long, silken lines of her naked thighs. They were so firm! And her cunt ... it was hot, and wet, greedily grasping ... her cunt was a silken glove, a tailored sheath for his cock.
He felt other things: She was twisting her loins around to caress him with her delicate parts, stretching her own cunt walls, taking him all the way up her willingly spread recess and filling them both with exquisite sensations that made their heads swim.
The sapping folds and tight funnel gripped him snugly, trying to hold his staff prisoner. But it eased smoothly in and out of her youthfully tight, vaginal embrace, flowing in and out of her in the stroking motions of a man who knew what it was about.
The blonde smiled, taking the ramming, filling poker of flesh deep into the wet cavern of her loins, and she felt its deep stabbing into tender tissues with nothing but high pleasure.
"Oh-man," she grunted throatily. Her hands clutched him lovingly. "Oh you made me come again, darling!"
He heard her voice, and he recognized it, and he knew what he was doing, what the two of them were doing.
But he pretended. He had to. He knew this was his own flesh and blood squirming and humping beneath his jerking form, knew that he was balling his daughter. But he couldn't stop now! So, even to himself, he pretended ... and he kept on screwing away into that marvelous snug cunt.
Suddenly he was pumping her faster, feeling the tightness in his balls and a lightness of head that forced his body to pump faster and faster.
Her entire body was jolted, and she groaned. Her pale blue eyes rolled. The perspiration-filmed masses of her tits jumped and jiggled on her chest. Quivering, her arms strained out, to run her grasping hands over his madly thrusting buttocks.
An intelligent girl who had for two years been engaging in forbidden sex games with her brother-and had learned thus to be crafty, and calculating-she wondered. Was her dad really aware of what he was doing? Did he know he was fucking his own daughter? Or was he drunk, or kidding himself?
She didn't know. The blond seductress knew that it was good-and that she wouldn't allow him to deny it, not even to himself. She'd make sure he knew!
She could feel that a tempest of lust shook and drove him. All around his cock, her sexual parts writhed. Thrills of sensual excitement darted through her heaving little belly. The thrashing movements of her hips against his jolted her entire being. How she loved getting her ever-needy furrow wrapped around his big steaming dick!
Her feet thrust at the air as she strove, with sluttish zeal, to swallow him up within the deepest recesses of her clinging crater.
He felt the tightening, the almost painful drawing up of his testicles that signaled approaching release. His temples pounding hard, he shot his bolt home up his daughter's clinging pussy.
Their bellies slapped together in scorching lust and she screamed, skewered and split right up the middle. He was aware that she had opened his pants, that they were far down his legs. His feet pressed at the rug, pounding her against a totally unyielding surface, so that she got every inch he had to give her.
Lust-driven shivers leapt through her incestuously skewered form. Her tight young breasts shuddered and ripples shimmied through their soft, jiggly pinkness. Every thick rigid inch of her wonderful father's tool was crammed and barely contained deep inside her, fabulously expanding her sap-slick channel and twitching palpably in an ecstasy of passion.
He groaned, grunted, stiffened. Then he went rigid. Shoving himself up over her on his forearms, he jerked his ass forward to send his semen spurting up her cunt.
As it burst from him, he stared down at the happy, passion-flushed face of his daughter.
"Oh thank you, thank god, thank you," she moaned, and he saw the tears in her eyes. "I have this awful need, need for sex, and now I know it's all right-I must've got it from you, from you! It wasn't Hal's fault, it wasn't, it was mine, mine-I have to have this, have to have it-and if you hadn't done this I'd be in such terrible danger, darling Dad, from all the guys I'd just have to-to give myself to!"
All that she dropped on him, when he was well beyond the point of no return, groaning and jerking in a hot-creaming come that shot her lovely pussy full of seminal liquor.
Emptied, he collapsed weakly on her.
He had to fight back his sobs, from the joyous fullness of his release and from her words.
Instead, she wept, and he held her close-all the while holding his penis up inside her. And slowly, despite his thoughts, he slipped off to sleep.
Thus she was able to extricate herself from beneath him and stagger off to the bathroom, to flush and sluice all his slippery semen out of herself. The naked girl returned to stand over the sleeping man, gazing down at him. Her lover ... her father.
She stretched out on the rug with him.
When he awoke, hours later, it was to find her licking and sucking his cock. They talked for a long, long while, and a great change took place inside Mase Ridgeway's head.
The very next day, he drove his daughter to the doctor, to have her examined and fitted with an IUD. While that was taking place, Mase sat there in the waiting room and thought about himself, and his offspring, and poor Hal out there in that lonely place with the stern old woman ... and he thought of what a mistake he had made, in taking the boy there.
CHAPTER FIVE
With the well-padded and startlingly firm-for her age-cheeks of Andrea's big ass surrounding and practically gripping his face, Hal Ridgeway let his wet, semi-folded tongue slip in and out of her anal mouth.
Thrilling to the feel of pleasure and the most intimate-and submissive-of kisses, Andrea sighed again and again. Great shudders ran all through her voluptuous frame. The onlookers were able to see the flushes of bliss that swept through her.
Hal could hear her sighs and moans and feel her quivers as he pushed his tongue up into that intimate, tender and very hot passage between the large oval mounds of milky flesh.
Jiggling and sighing, she eased back. Wetness and softness tried to envelop his nose and lapping, sliding tongue.
"Oooooh, lovely, lovely," she purred. "Now my dear boy, lick my pussy!"
It wasn't as if the boy had any choice in the matter. He now knew that he and his fellow captives in this strange and offbeat "school" were merely tortured victims-and slaves to the lusts of the big Andrea and her two sex-happy daughters.
He lay flat on his back, while she poised over him, on her knees. Looking on were both Vanessa and Sabra, along with the blond boy, Frank.
Now Hal licked the little, growing bud of the woman's clitoris with a stiff tongue, and listened to her groan. Hot juices poured out of the soft inner ring of flesh between her hollowing, shuddering thighs.
He flipped his tongue in and out and circled it, slurping up the slippery juices, furiously tongue-diddling her clit until the big voluptuary was moaning and jigging her ass in delicious wantonness. Its large warm cheeks came down to splay over his forehead, again and again. Her throaty chant, like the movements of her turned-on body, was the result of the happy delirium of lust.
His lips tugged at the enlarged stalk of her clit and she groaned, the sound almost a squeal, at the lovely sensation. Kneeling astride him and now almost sitting on the boy, she threw back her head so that her long raven hair flowed down her back to the dimples atop her resplendent rear ovals. Her own hands rose up under the great cliffs of her breasts, and she cupped them, lifted them. Her fingers tweaked their darkening nipples until they hardened into stiff red points.
Watching her mother pinch those nipples almost viciously, Sabra Haider shuddered. She could practically feel that dipping, delving, warm male tongue herself-and she wondered at the severe pinching pressure her mother imparted on her own pointed tit-crests.
Andrea was close to coming; the youth beneath her knew that from the constant tremors that ran through her and the tightening up of her many powerful muscles-and the increasing flow, of her cunt's moistness with each passing second.
She began jerking her hips and grunting as he spread that afflicting itch all through her furry loins and rounded belly.
Moving his head as best he could so as to avoid wearing out the sore muscles at the root of his tongue, he wagged that stiff tongue back and forth, back and forth across the large pink pea of her erected clitoris.
"Yeeee-AAAGHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGG!" the writhing woman gasped, then practically screamed. Her entire glowing body went into a sensual upheaval of heavenly pleasure. Her belly lurched in the peristaltic rhythms of orgasm.
She sagged forward, her big swollen tits hanging before her, as smaller quakes continued to shudder through her kneeling figure. Now she was so limp from her strong climax that she sat completely on the youth's face. His hands started to twitch restlessly as the time came near when he must breathe or die And Andrea rose, staggering, while Hal gasped in a great breath and let it out, then sucked in another.
Naked but for the knee-high leather boots, hose, and the taut garter belt that kept them up; the superdominant mistress of the unorthodox school went swiftly to where the other boy lay, also on his back.
Young Frank was not bound. Over his head, so that he was able to look straight up between the plump stems of her thighs, stood Sabra-with a whip ready to lash him should he try anything ... unwise. By his side knelt Vanessa. While her hot eyes had been directed at her mother and the other boy, the tall redhead had been playing constantly with Frank's cock and balls.
The boy's penis had long since come jerkingly to attention. Now it was thick, dark-colored with its engorging blood, and standing high above his pale-haired, lightly -haired crotch.
Andrea stepped across it, stepped across him, and smiled down at his rigidly erect, manifestly cunt-ready cock.
"You will keep your arms at your sides, Frank. You will not move. You will not touch me. Do you understand, Frank?"
"Ye ... yes Miz Haider," the boy said, almost whispering as he gazed up at the toweringly dominant figure of the superwoman standing astride his loins.
"Good. If you forget, or disobey-it doesn't matter which, since 'forgetting' is disobedient-you will be punished severely."
Frank licked his lips. Just about ready to begin shaving, he had a pale, soft growth of silky down, under his lower cheeks and between his nose and his upper Up. He tried to nod, but his head was against the carpeted floor of the room. "Yesss, Miz Haider," he repeated.
"Good." She smiled lasciviously. "I know little boys like to get their rocks off. Now I am going to help you!"
She began bending her knees. And down the supple woman came, lowering her crotch toward the knob-like crown of the boy's tall erection. He sucked in his breath in tense anticipation. His eyes were fastened to the lowering bush of her juicy cunt, as it came down and down toward his more-than-ready prick.....
Slowly,' teasingly, with little moans that were echoed from his throat, the thirty-nine-year-old woman took the fifteen-year-old dick up between the hot-pink folds of her cunt-until her haunches sank silkily onto his outstretched thighs.
A long sigh undulated out of her parted lips.
She sat there with a bellyful of standing cock, shivering in tremulous anticipation of the ride to come.
Then she began riding his cock-horse. Frank was most likely fully grown, and his prick was nothing to be ashamed of. Too, her position and harsh down-jamming activity ensured that she got all of it up her. The big dominatrix bounced up and down, screwing herself energetically, wildly, down onto the youth's rock-hard root.
Vanessa moved over and began idly playing with Hal's twitching hard-on, while she watched her mother fuck Frank.
Her great tits hung and swung looming over him, bouncing and joggling, two big jugs with the resilience of grapefruits and the shapes of artillery shells and the color of fine porcelain.
A smile stretched her mouth. Pleasure mounted steadily inside her, radiating out from that big hunk of boyishly virile man flesh wedged deliciously between her stretched, gaping labia, until passion approached delirium.
She was practically wombing herself, thudding the big head of his cock right up against the neck of her cervix.
"Uh," she grunted, starting to sweat, "uh, unngh, ooogh, unh, uhh...."
Rising and sinking rapidly, she tormented herself with it-then paused to wriggle, grunting as she ground her own cervical knob onto the firmer but equally spongy knob of his high-standing pole.
The boy was gasping and grunting, twitching all over. His hands curled and clutched at carpet and his own bare, almost hairless thighs again and again. Sheer delight flashed in his hazel eyes.
She began really to go wild then, and her big tits swung and leaped and juddered as if they were about to tear free of her sweating chest. That wet, soft, clutching cunt juicing up and down his prick was pure bliss to the boy, and he forgot himself. Just as his semen started to pump out of him and up into her grasping gliding pussy, his hands leapt up to clasp her great wildly flopping tits.
He molded and squeezed them, while his sperm fountained up into her, for several seconds. With a swift flush and a look of combined repentance and fear, the climaxing, groaning youth jerked his hands from her mighty spires and dropped his arms to his sides.
After a long moment, Andrea looked down at his flushed face, and her dark eyes blazed.
"You DISOBEYED!" she stormed, and she slapped the boy across the face, hard.
His head was snapped sideward with the impact, and he groaned. But he did not move his hands to defend himself.
"Oh please-please Miz Haider-it was so good, it felt so good, and your big beautiful titties were so beautiful!"
"Uh-huh. But you are HERE, my nasty sex-maniac young friend, because you couldn't keep your nasty greedy hands off a girl's tiddies. And I told you! Can't you see-we're trying to HELP you, and you are most definitely not COOPERATING!"
"Pleeease...."
But she paid him no mind, lifting herself off him with an easy flexing of her powerful legs. His spent penis flopped wetly back into the light fur of his loins, and his juices rolled out between her pussylips to streak her thighs and splat onto the rug.
Frank was punished.
At her mother's behest, Sabra whipped him, six hard-swung lashes that slapped the whip hard across his chest and belly, the last fiery blow dangerously, terrifyingly close to his relaxed tool. Six deeply red stripes were left on the body of the twitching, gasping, whimpering young man.
Andrea produced a strong length of cord, with loops in each end. It was a swift and simple matter to form a slip noose by bending the loop back and poking the cord through it. The noose she slipped over and around his young balls and his limp pecker. She tightened it until he groaned and made ugly gagging sounds. Tears squirted from his squeezed-shut eyes. He writhed in agony-but though his hands fluttered, he dared not attempt to defend or free himself with him.
Vanessa remained beside the prostrate Hal, idly toying with his cock with one hand, and with her own aroused genitals with the other. Both she and the horrified boy watched while Andrea and her other daughter turned Frank onto his side. The stout, slim cord noosed around his cock and balls was drawn back between his thighs, then up through the crack separating his chubby young buttocks. Next they tied it around his wrists, and he groaned when they drew it tight.
Now there was pain in the boy's wrists, and pressure at his shoulders, which were tugged back. But-if he tried to alleviate it, he set up an even worse counter-pressure: on his genitals!
Andrea walked, thudding down on her tall boots' spike heels, to a wall shelf. She returned with a plastic bottle and a square of colored cardboard.
"Here, dear," she said to Sabra, extending the bottle, "rub his nipples with alcohol."
"No, please-oh, ohh, no please Miz Haider-"
But the implacable Andrea knelt beside the helpless lad, and now Hal saw that the pasteboard she held was a card of straight pins. Almost daintily with her long tapered fingers and long-nailed thumb, she plucked one forth-and a moment later Frank groaned and shuddered, as the merciless woman pierced his tiny male nipple with the pin. And drew out another Hal couldn't help it. He had to try and stop the torment of his fellow male by these wicked females. A jerk and a sweep of his arm sent the unsuspecting Vanessa tumbling backward, and then the naked boy was up and hurling himself upon Andrea.
"No!! Stop it! You've punished him-now you're just TORTURING him, you mean old...."
Hal didn't really have a chance. He was outnumbered, and in truth Andrea Haider was both bigger than he and a match for his strength. Too, Sabra held the whip. And finally, Hal just couldn't quite fight them as he should have: dirty. Despite their cruelty, they were females, women, and Hal held back-just enough for Andrea to hurl him to the floor even as she fell. Then Sabra struck. He heard the evil singing hiss of the whip for just an instant-and then fire exploded in a shock of fiery pain across his side. He rolled, and again the whip flicked out, rushing hard to sear the tensing balls of his hard young ass. Hal groaned, loudly, and tried to roll away-so that with the third lash the tip of the whip snapped down onto his left testicle. He was instantly overcome with pain-and very sick at his stomach.
After that it was a simple matter for them to tie another cord around his aching balls. It was linked to his wrists, with his hands in front of him so that he looked as if he was gripping his crotch.
Throwing him down then, they made the boy groan, and plead, and then yell, and finally sob with the humiliating tears of pain and masculine degradation-as they forced a battery vibrator up into his resisting, tight and virginal asshole.
He lay bound on the floor at their feet, quivering and sobbing, with the pink base of the vibrator-lightly lubricated from having been first pushed into Andrea's semen-smeared cunt-sticking obscenely out between his firmly mounded buttocks.
Andrea bestrode him, tucked the end of the vibrator into herself, and began hunching up and down. The pressure was enough to make the plastic dildo wiggle and slide slightly in his blazing rear channel.
Agony lanced through the monstrously humiliated and pained boy.
He screamed....
Later, bound, Hal had to follow Vanessa around and around the spacious yard. She was on her bike, attached to which was the end of the cord encircling the youth's balls. He ran awkwardly-and desperately!
Sweat poured from him, and terror was a constant shrill presence in him as he ran along behind her. God oh god, if I fall. But though she pedaled faster and faster, Hal did not fall. He was heavily winded, sobbing for breath, and streaming sweat-and his balls felt as they were encased in ice, by the time she at last braked the bike just behind the big brick house. But he hadn't fallen. Her mother had promised dire consequences to Vanessa if she pulled him off his feet, and the big girl was nearly as scared as her victim!
That night, bound, he and Frank had to watch the women do sexy things to themselves and each other, and with the other boys, Leo, Jerry, Randy, and Jesse. All four boys came into gripping pussies-after which Leo and Randy were made to jack off Frank and Hal.
Then Jesse and Jerry did it, so that both "bad boys" as Andrea termed them, were masturbated twice each. The second time was painful, with dry hands and constricted balls....
CHAPTER SIX
Its driver paying no attention to the 55-mile-per-hour speed limit. Mason Ridgeway's Mercury roared out toward the home and "school" of Andrea Haider. It was a pleasant enough Sunday afternoon. The sun shone as if the world were perfect and beautiful, and he had to slow down again and again, biding his time to pass less hasty Sunday drivers.
"You actually signed a paper, Daddy?" Pam said, in the car's seat beside him.
"Yes." He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. They were well out of the city and its suburbs, and nearly to the tree-lined lane that led off and around to the Haider house. "I didn't think anything of it. It was a contract between us, after all, guaranteeing the woman her money and no interference. But Hal's MY son, and I brought him out here voluntarily. It wasn't as if a judge ordered it. In the eyes of the law, he's just like any other teenage boy; he's done nothing wrong."
Pam was silent while her father pulled out around a slow-moving Cadillac-they all seemed to move more slowly, now, with gasoline so high. He had to swing back in quickly, as a VW approached from the other direction.
Once they were back into their lane and everything was normal and sweat-free again, the girl asked, "In the eyes of the law, Daddy?"
Mase Ridgeway sighed. "All right, Pam. I get your meaning, OK, without any qualifying phrase then: Hal's done no wrong. I shouldn't have brought him out here. He just-you two just...." He broke off.
Pam nodded, and her pink-lipsticked mouth curved slightly upward. She thought about the other night when she had "vamped" her daddy, and about last night too, when for a long while she'd had every millimeter of her father's enormously thick dick buried up between the passion-swollen lips of her seething pussy.
They had fucked twice, last night. The second time had been the best, because it had gone on for a very long time, with her daddy's sweat-wet hair streaming down and sticking to his face and his sweat pouring over her body and their slapping crotches making wet swampy sounds that were just beautifully obscene.
The car slowed, and he turned into the graveled lane beside the mailbox that said simply HALDER. But Pam hardly noticed the turn or the car's slow growling movement into the shade between the two rows of cloying trees, for she was sitting there lost in herself, thinking about last night and fucking with her darling daddy.
She reveled in the memory of the big man's powerful pussy-punching and his big, hard, mature dick up her quim. Her stomach had pumped strongly, hips writhing voluptuously, her breath coming in short, excited pants. Knowing her own youthful muscularity inside, she worked to make her incestuous lover feel her inner muscles grasping and sucking hungrily on his deeply seated, inflamed flesh-stick.
He had groaned and smiled to let her know he felt her inner tightening up around his plunging rod.
Pressing close, he had driven it into her, long and hard. The girl had accepted its inward ranging avidly, panting with ecstasy and jiggling excitedly to increase the friction between their bodies, both externally and far back inside her.
She had strained hard to clamp down, to make her dilated young vagina a hot, fleshy prison for her daddy's beloved plunging cock.
Flexing her rump, she had moved in squirming little back-and-forth jerks, straining to pull him even farther up her belly with her frantic undulations, to see just how much man-cock she could absorb in her steaming depths.
With a groan, he had hurled himself back into the temping, hot, teenage cunt that Was growing hotter and more slippery by the second. She had groaned at the feel of his heavy, swollen nuts slap-slapping the soft meat of her buttocks' lower curves.
Then, still hunching and pounding, he had slid his sweat-slick hands down under her. Grasping her grinding cheeks, he had parted them-and she had groaned in pain and displeasure when he started trying to pierce her dainty little pink asshole with one big blunt-tipped finger.
She had got him to stop that, hating to disappoint him if that was his thing-but she hadn't liked it at all.
At last he had come, hurling his incestuous semen deep into his daughter's clasping cunt-its inner chamber now protected by the brand-new, babyavoiding IUD. He had slept then. Pam had lain there with him, nearly covered with his sweat, rubbing his sweaty back, and thinking how lovely it was that now her father was her lover, and soon she'd have her beloved brother back, too....
The only thing that bothered both her and her father, now, was a very basic-and hopefully not serious enough to interfere with their continued balling-difference in their likes and dislikes.
Mase Ridgeway, obviously, liked to do rough, dominating things to his love partner. At the same time, his was a low pain threshold and he didn't care to have much that was hurtful done to him.
It was silly even to think of it this way, the girl mused as they wended their way along the treeshaded lane and now eased out'into more open terrain, surrounded by the bright green grass of a well-kept lawn-a huge one. Silly, but-she couldn't help the thought.
If we weren't daughter and daddy, she mused, we'd be foolish to marry, because that "sadism-masochism" business makes us basically not quite compatible! Over the long haul, we'd both be less than fully happy-and probably wind up having real trouble.
But that-was hardly worth thinking about. They were father and daughter, they were not going to marry, or even be lovers for life. They didn't have to worry about the fact that his preferences and "kinks" and hers were not complementary.
Now the seventeen-year-old blonde returned her full attention to her surroundings, for they were pulling up beside a green Scout and a blue Ford. And there was the big house of old red brick, shrub-crowded and handsome and solidly stable-looking.
"Sure doesn't look like a prison," she remarked, as she got out and gazed at the house.
"It is not a prison, Pam," Mason told her sternly, across the top of their car. He closed the door.
"Well ... it doesn't look like a school, either, for 'naughty' boys or otherwise!"
Her father said nothing. He was starting slowly toward the big old house. No one was in sight, and there was no sound save that of the birds and the insects and the soft whisper of the wind through the trees that completely surrounded the place.
He was thinking, as he approached the house slowly, of what he'd say to that large, forbidding woman and her homely daughter. No way out of it, it would be embarrassing. Here he was, come to admit a mistake and take his son home, only twelve days after placing him here, in her care-supposedly for the rest of the summer!
She's firm, Mason thought. I'll just have to be firmer, that's all. As to the embarrassment, what she might think-I'll just have to take my medicine. She can think and say what she wants. I was wrong, and Hal's going home, today. She can keep the damn money. Yeah-that ought to salve her 'wound' a bit!
They mounted the three steps onto the concrete slab porch. At the storm-screened door, he pushed the button to ring the bell inside. He fidgeted nervously and Pam looked all about as they waited.
No one came. Mase rang again.
Then he rang again.
Later, he knocked.
He and his daughter went around to the back door. Peering into a kitchen, he saw no one. He knocked. The windowed kitchen door gave, and he experienced a few moments of guilt and doubt as the door swung in.
Then Pam brushed past him. "There's a basement," the girl said. "The windows are covered, from inside. Probably have a playroom down there. Maybe they have Sunday services here-that would seem normal, wouldn't it, for a place like this and what Miz Haider's into doing? They probably just didn't hear the bell. After all-the door's unlatched."
"Pam-" the man began, but his daughter was already in the house, looking around the kitchen. Nervously, because of the feeling that just walking in wasn't right, he followed her into Andrea Haider's home.
"I'll bet this is the basement door," Pam said, a minute or so later.
"Wait while I check the office. I think it's right through here."
It was. He entered the office where he had first met Andrea Haider. And he frowned. Her heavy glasses lay on the desk blotter. He stared at them for a time, then walked around the desk. There, pushed just under it on the pad provided for the rolling of the swivel chair, were her ugly shoes. And a closet door was open-in it hung the icky dress and smock she had worn.
Of course, he tried to tell himself. If they are holding some sort of Sunday services, as Tarn said, she'd dress up, not wear these shoes and that dress and smock.
But it wouldn't quite take. After all-a woman with glasses as thick as these-going elsewhere without them? Worry began to tug at the edge of his mind. Suppose something had happened....
"Good lord, what?" he muttered, and he picked up the glasses.
Strange. They were ground so as to look all thick and heavy and to change her eyes-but when he looked through them, nothing changed. They were window glass!
Either that, he thought, or they're made to my own reading prescription!
But they weren't. When, holding the spectacles before his face, he looked out the window at the three parked vehicles, he could read the numbers but not the smaller-printed legend and county identification of the license plates. There was no magnification in Andrea's glasses.
Frowning, he thoughtfully replaced them on the desk. Taking out his own glasses, he put them on. And was able, clearly, to read the license tags on his car, and on both of hers!
"Daddy? What are you doing?"
He jerked. "Uh-just running a test. Look, those are her glasses. But they don't seem to be ground lenses at all. Just window glass, plain. Why would anyone wear specs like that?"
"Hmm." She lifted her pale eyebrows, looking thoughtfully at the dark, unhandsome spectacles on the desk blotter. "Maybe-maybe she just wants to look older, sterner, you know."
"Ah!" Mason stared at his daughter, starting to smile. "Sure! That's it. She doesn't even need the things! Well. That's solved-but there's no sign of anybody, and riot a sound. I guess we may as well check that basement door, while we're here."
Leaving the office, father and daughter returned along the hall to the kitchen. Just outside its archway into the hall was the closed door Pam had remarked on earlier. Still feeling uncomfortable, nervous, and a little guilty about "wandering" around inside someone else's private home, Mase wrapped his hand around the knob. He took a breath, glanced at his waiting daughter, mentally squared his shoulders, and opened the door.
Cr-r-r-rack!
"YEEEEEGHIAAAAAAIIIEEEEEGHHHH!"
The loud slapping sound, followed by the awful cry of pain, rushed up the basement steps at them like a physical assault.
"Oh my god!" the quivering Pam said, her eyes huge and her whole body atremble after her first wild heart-jump and her physical jerk at the unexpected sounds.
"Christ," her father whispered. "What-"
"Daddy? What-what was that?" the girl whispered.
"I ... don't know-w...." The basement, he thought, and even this thick door, must be ... soundproof.
Then they heard the voices.
"Now maybe that will teach you to do precisely as you're told, you nasty little boy," Andrea Haider's voice said, full of menace.
"Uh, ohhhh." The moan was in the oddly hoarse, throaty sound voice of a young boy whose voice was still in the process of change.
"Now when my daughter tells you to be still while j she pisses on your nasty face, boy, you be still and take it!"
"Daddy!" Pam exclaimed, her voice rising.
But her father was already moving down the basement steps. With her heart pounding and feeling as if with each violent beat it was jumping into her throat, the young blonde followed.
Many voices rose excitedly, one after the other, each crowding the other.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN' ON DOWN HERE?" Mason Ridgeway shouted, as he reached the bottom of the steps.
"DAD!"
"Oh HELP Mister, she's BEATING me-and her daughter's already bitten my nipple till it BLED!"
"Help us Mister, please, help us-"
"ITS TRUE, MISTER-this isn't any SCHOOL, it's a TORTURE CHAMBER FOR US BOYS!"
"DAD! Ohhhh, Dad!"
And from Sabra Haider, "Oh shit!"
Mason Ridgeway stared at the incredible scene spread out before his disbelieving eyes. Time seemed to slow, to encapsulate itself, so that he was allowed all he needed to take in the entire ugly pageant....
Andrea Haider was a magnificent woman who bore little resemblance to the school-marmish cliche he'd met on his first visit here. Her long black hair streamed down, and her legs seemed a yard long as she stood, defiantly and dominantly spraddle-legged. She wore absolutely no clothing but the decorative: a black satin garter belt, figured black hose, taut-stretched into grayness over her long legs, and high-heeled boots of black leather that gleamed refulgently and looked cloth-supple. She held a short, hard, only slightly whippy riding crop. Before that dominating figure knelt a naked boy, his ankles hobbled, his left arm still between her big thighs with the hand on her jutting buttock, his face still smeared from his recent activity: lapping her bushy black, naked cunt....
Without glasses or buck teeth, and also absolutely magnificent in her femininity, Vanessa held a much longer whip. The young woman wore a smoke-colored but fully transparent bra that matched her open-crotch panty hose-and old-fashioned pumps of black patent leather, their heels like slender stilts. She stood over a boy who lay prostrate on the floor. A slender cord constricted his scrotum, bulging its egg-like testicles, and ran up his body to be knotted again-around his neck. He was still sobbing. An ugly red stripe glowed across part of his chest and his left shoulder and arm. Obviously, it was his shriek of agony at the landing of that lash that had been the first sound Mason and Pam had heard on opening the basement door.
Mason didn't know the third girl, a sexily plump one with hair as black and glossy as her mother's. She was utterly naked but for a pair of fringe-topped boots of charcoal-colored suede that rose just to the midpoint of her very round thighs. In her hand was a hairbrush; across her knees as she sat in a straight chair was a weird and shameful apparition. The boy wore hose, garter belt, stilt-heeled scarlet pumps, and a frilly brassiere. His nicely rounded young male ass was upturned. And it was darkened, assuring the staring Mason Ridgeway that the hairbrush had already fallen, again and again....
A fourth boy stood against a wall, his legs shaking. There was a little trickle of blood from his right nipple, and his wrists were linked behind him by means of a leather cuff about each. A fifth was tied in what must have been a breathtakingly painful position, over a wooden sawhorse-with a plastic dildo standing out of his buttocks. There was blood....
Hal stood near the room's center, helpless because of his hands being bound behind him. Metal clamps like roach-clips were chewing into each of the youth's diminutive nipples-which were swollen now, and very red indeed.
"Oh, oh," Pam stammered, "oh-GOD!"
The tall redhead standing astride Frank was the first to move; she panicked, lashing viciously at Mason with her long whip. The man moved with desperate swiftness, whipping up an arm in pure automatic defense against the lengthy leather strap that leaped for him like a striking serpent. The lash whipped around his arm three times, stinging like bees even through his sports coat. With a little groan, Mason jerked that arm, turning halfway around.
In the natural reaction, Vanessa clung to the handle of her whip. She was thus tugged toward the man, unwillingly.
Heroically, the boy on the floor swung both his legs-and tripped the big girl. She released her grip on the whip handle as she fell, crying out-the boy who had tripped her lay on an exercise mat, but she fell half onto the basement "playroom's" tiled floor.
Whatever Andrea might have done, it was too late now. Her elder daughter had attacked the shocked man; the fat was in the fire. With her fingers curled into claws, the nearly naked woman charged Mase. The whip slipped from his arm as he met her charge, grasping her wrists. Then the two were straining against each other, she to claw at him and he to hold those vicious hands away from his face. He learned very quickly that the big "brunette was strong.
As the two wrestled afoot, each straining against the other, Sabra dumped Leo off her sweaty, bare thighs and pounced to her feet with a wild jiggle of her naked, heroically developed breasts. She started forward to help her mother.
But Hal, even though he was bound, could run. He did-and slammed his shoulder into Sabra's side. She went staggering violently sidewise, hair flying.
Pam Ridgeway came alive, though the wide-staring aspect of her eyes had not changed, and her face was still white with shock and horror. Clad in a nice little Sunday dress of pale yellow and white, she squatted, grabbed, and straightened quickly. She had picked up Vanessa's whip-which she used on Sabra!
The black lash leaped out to encircle the girl's legs, just below the knees and above her boot-tops. The loud crack of the leather slapping flesh was closely followed by Sabra's throaty-screechy cry of pain. Pam yanked, twisting as her father had done, and Sabra was jerked off her feet. With another scream, she fell to the floor. Ram was able to flip the whiplash loose and snap it back to herself.
Obscene and absolutely weird in his humiliating transvestite get-up, Leo pounced on Sabra. He was not bound, and she was soon reminded of masculine strength, as she struggled to free herself of the boy who was dragging her arms up behind her.
Straining in quivering, dynamic tension, Andrea's stocking-and-boot-clad legs were braced and striving with all her power. She still tried to get her hands at Mason's face-and he, with a hand clamping each of the big woman's wrists, held her away.
Even though bound, the other boys tried to keep Vanessa out of the fight. There was a guttural cry of terrible pain, and Pam saw that the redhead had gained a hold on one of the boy's cock. Rushing over to that melee, Pam Ridgeway proved she could be just as nasty as Vanessa-by kicking the older girl sharply in one transparently-brassiered breast. As Vanessa moaned and let go her penile grip to clap a hand to her wounded tit, Hal's blond sister brought her whip down on the redhead's bare back with a loud snapping, cracking sound.
Having bound Sabra with the ropes that another boy, though bound, had brought him, Leo gave her plush backside a hard swat with the hairbrush she had used on his. Then, still attired in the ridiculous bra, garter belt and hose-though he'd kicked off the women's high-heeled shoes-he hurried to Vanessa. She was writhing on the floor, as Hal held her there with a foot planted on her big firm bottom.
Swiftly, Leo and Pam cooperated in binding Vanessa-while Mason Ridgeway, with some swift footwork and a sudden movement of his arms, swung Andrea halfway around-and forced her to the floor. The man's hand bore a couple of scratches, one bleeding, and his coat was torn in one place. But now he got the tall woman onto her stomach on the tiled floor, and plumping himself down astride the small of her back, he dragged her arms back.
He held them there, pushing steadily upward.
"Relax, bitch-I don't really want to break both your arms!"
She tensed, flexed, tried to roll free; could not. Nor could she jerk or force or twist her arms from his powerful grip. She turned her head sidewise, rolling her eyes so that from one she could see the man seated on her back.
"You ... overpowered me!" she whispered. Her eyes were wide and bright.
"Uh-huh," Mason told her, panting. "And I'm not sure what's been going on here, but I can see some of it ... and you're sure as hell going to taste that riding crop of yours before I leave this hell-hole you've been presiding over!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Still not sure he wasn't in a wild dream from which he'd awake sweating and with a terrible hard-on, Mason Ridgeway forced the big, nearly naked proprietress of this unorthodox "school" to the sawhorse. Pam untied Hal; the girl had made Tesse scream when she tugged the dildo out of his blood-trickling anus, and had then freed the boy from the sawhorse.
Over it, lying along its length, Mason forced Andrea. He bound each of her arms and long-booted legs to each of the device's four legs-which were stout lengths of two-by-four wood.
With all three members of the Haider family securely trussed, and all five boys now released from their bondage-Leo having shed the bra and a crooning Pam having removed the wicked metal clamps from her brother's nipples-Mason Ridgeway now listened to their story. The boys interrupted each other, spoke rapidly and excitedly, and shed a few tears as they narrated the frightful truth about their history, individual and collective, in this awful place.
Vanessa snorted and screamed out that they were liars and that everything they said was "Bullshit!" Almost calmly, Pam knelt beside the big bound girl on the floor-and slapped her face, hard. Vanessa blinked in surprise, then whimpered. Tears stole down her cheeks.
By now Mason, who had shed his coat after the heated bout with Andrea, well knew of the sexual "games" the three dominatrices had "played" with their teenaged "prisoners." Deeply shocked, he nodded, felt sick to his stomach, and, with the situation well in hand, moved heavily up the steps to relieve his bladder.
Though he was gone only five or six minutes, pissing and trying with desperation to think clearly about the situation and what should be done, he returned to the basement to find a vastly changed scene.
Jesus Christ, no! he thought, and started to cry out.
But then he thought Ah to hell with it! The bitches deserve it-and so do those poor boys!
And Mase sat down on the steps to wait-and watch.
With her wrists rebound in front of her, Vanessa was on her hands and knees. Before her stood the boy who had worn the bra and the other female accoutrements, Leo-with his strong youthful cock stuck into the redhead's mouth. Behind her stood the boy with the bloodied nipple, Jerry. In his hand he held Andrea's riding crop. As Mason had descended the steps, the boy had been in the act of stuffing his handsome young hard-on in between the lower curves of Vanessa Haider's large turned-up ass. Now the shaft was sunk well into the big girl's cunt.
The plump brunette, Sabra, was sprawled on her back on one of the basement's several scattered exercise mats. Randy, who had so recently had to lick Andrea's pussy, now shoved his virile penis in and out of her daughter's similar gash. Her face was invisible. Jerry knelt there, astride her neck, facing Randy. The boy who'd been so viciously dildo-raped in the anus was bouncing that torn hole slowly up and down on the girl's face.
"Attaway to go, Sabra baby. Lick that poor stinging asshole, you nasty slut!" the boy said, pawing her left breast with both hands-while Randy squeezed and tugged at her right.
With her hands bound behind and thus under her, the girl was in obvious pain.
Pam and Hal, clinging to each other, were watching-while Pam also hung onto the hand of the boy whose scream had sounded when the basement door was opened: Frank of the whipped chest.
Andrea remained where she'd been when Mason had gone up to piss. The big woman lay uncomfortably along the too-slender ridge forming the top-bar of the sawhorse, her hands and feet secured to its braces. Her head was turned toward the scene of double rape, her wealth of glossy black hair brushing the floor and her face anguished-and fearful.
She rolled her eyes at Mase, and their expression was strange.
Jerry grinned happily, using both hands on Sabra's unusually large left breast. He treated the white mass roughly, kneading and squeezing the dark-centered gourd as if he were working with dough. The luscious and putty-soft round of that pliant girl-tit ran liquidly through his hands. She did as she was ordered, meanwhile, despite the big dick rummaging her pussy and the four hands mauling her helpless, bare tits.
Her sweet, lashing tongue ran up and down the lightly -haired slit of Jerry's ass, then stabbed at the tiny hole in its center, so recently dilated. He groaned loudly as her tongue writhed up his asshole. But it was not a groan of pain. He bent forward a little more, his eyes wide as he soaked up the marvelous sensation and listened to the wet sexy sounds she made tongue-fucking his asshole.
Randy, at the same time, was driving far up her streaming, steaming gash, pounding her sprawled plump body with shocks that hurt a little but that could not help but set off insatiable and inexorable needs and demands in the girl.
Like a spike going through wet pasteboard, the redheaded boy's prick plunged deep, deep, opening her wide and striking for her womb until she was a consuming volcano of lust.
Each hard pounding lunge tested her body's ability to take the thick sex-staff and swallow it up inside her. The full-fleshed girl met the test with more than adequacy. His buttocks rose and fell; his good virile organ seated itself deeply in the hot, juicy pocket and moan after tormented moan of lust and love and need trembled from the boy's lips. He ground and squirmed atop her, punching into the helpless, tight-slotted lovely, sinking his thickly inflamed flesh as far as he could up her twitching, bottomless cleft.
"Harder," Hal said, shocking his father. "Fuck the bitch harder, Jerry!"
Swiftly getting over his shock-the boys were understandably vindictive and certainly had their innings coming with their vicious and humiliationbent jailers-Mase looked over at Jerry.
He was one of those athletic-looking youths; all other boys wish they were built just that way. He was chesty, thick of arm and broad of shoulder, heavy of thigh and almost massive of head. Jerry's hair was one of those wiry, crisply waving mops that needed absolutely no dressing.
The muscular young athlete knelt behind Vanessa-who was considerably bigger, but not in the arms-with his hands firmly planted on the upturned rounds of her backside.
The boy grunted and shuddered in excitement and longing for the orgasmic release he so eagerly sought. His prick ached with a lustful, libidinous hunger, stroking steadily with sucking, kissing, salaciously wet sounds as it worked in and out of her wet cleft. With his eyes staring down into the deep smooth orifice between the snowy ovals of her ass, he strove from behind her to dig a new hole up the belly of the girl who was a couple of years his senior.
The strong, lurching movements of his hips filled her pussy full of cock. It slammed forcefully in and out of the wet heat of her.
Her wrists bound and her mouth cock-stuffed, the big girl on her hands and knees could only take, and take.
Before her knelt the totally naked Leo, and Mason could see the hollows leaping into the sides of the boy's muscular young asscheeks as he snapped his crotch back and forth, fucking Vanessa in the face.
His movements plugged the sweet narrow facial tunnel with greater and greater speed. The young woman's tightly stretched little mouth flowed inward with his hunching strokes into her face. She moaned piteously, and shuddered at the degrading humiliation of being fucked so ruthlessly in the face. Nor could she back away from the orally rummaging dick; the boy behind her saw to that!
Her eyes dilated with sadness and horror and streaked her face with bitter tears.
"Guhh-gaannnnngh!"
The thick spear of hard, youthful flesh flattened her tongue and delved for her spasming throat. She shuddered, helpless to prevent what the two boys were doing to her, but hating the thick gag that filled and stretched her mouth.
Leo glanced over at the man seated on the steps.
"We left Andrea, Mister Ridgeway-fuck the bitch bowlegged!" And Leo tucked in his tail, hard, scooping his tumid tool up Vanessa's distended mouth.
Facing Leo at the other end of the body of the girl on her hands and knees, Jerry shoved hard up her seething slit as he too looked over at their rescuer.
"She needs a good reaming, Mister Ridgeway," the boy assured him. "All the things they've done to us surely mean these women just haven't ever gotten enough screwing!"
Mason blinked, swallowed. He was aware that both Pam and Hal were looking at him, expectantly.
Andrea was staring his way too, though he hardly thought she was expectant!
"Hey, yeah," Randy grunted, his ass bobbing as he gave it to Sabra in a series of swift punches up the quim. "The head witch we left for you, Mister Ridgeway. See-Hal and Frank are waiting."
"Andrea's yours, Mister Ridgeway," Jesse called. The boy was deliberately striking fear deep into Sabra now, lowering his naked ass all the way onto her face and squirming the tight young cheeks around, so as to cut off her breath. "You're the man who saved us all!"
From Andrea's direction came a moan.
"I-don't have the same needs or reason for vengeance as you guys do," Mason told the four rapists. His heart was pounding, though, and his penis had started growing until it was contained a bit painfully in his fly. Then, suddenly, he felt the spurt of adrenalin through his system, and his armpits went prickly at a new thought.
"Uh-maybe ... maybe though I should whip that upturned tailbone of hers, though."
"RAYYYYYYYY!" they cried, in a ragged chorus-but Jerry broke off, jerking and grunting, as the muscular youth sent a spate of semen up into Vanessa's well-opened cunt. He ground in hard against her flattening asscheeks, to implant his spurting cock deep.
"Jesus," Jesse muttered excitedly, "Jerry came!"
"Uh-uhhhh ... mm-mee-eee ... too!" Randy gasped out, and then his butt went all tiny and clenched, as he too began pumping.
Jerry fell back weakly onto the floor, his still long but no longer hard prick flopping against his depleted balls. In an instant, Jesse had scrambled up from Sabra's face. She gasped gratefully for breath and rolled her eyes wildly, feeling Randy's seed slamming up her vagina. Jesse pounced to Vanessa, his cock fully erect and bobbing wildly.
"Gl-l-laaaaaggggh!!!!" Vanessa groaned around the cockhead nudging her throat, as her semen-filled pussy was immediately stuffed with another big bulgy prick.
Jesse began groaning and sighing and wildly hunching, at once. His arms swung in counterpoint, his splaying hands landing slap after slap on the girl's bottom, alternating from one cheek to the other.
"SWALLOW IT, YOU RED-HEADED WITCH!"
With that wild shout, Leo began jetting his hot seminal liquor into Vanessa's face, which received the unwelcome draught helplessly. Tears slid shinily down her face. Her throat bobbed and twitched as she swallowed and swallowed.
Frank had left Pam's side, and seated himself astride the supine Sabra, his buttocks squashing her ( overgrown tits. He fucked his tool into her mouth, advising her that she'd either treat it nice and gently and suck it out, or get her face slapped off.
Behind him, Randy groaned and twisted his hips as he reached his orgasm and blew his balls gratefully, violently, up into Sabra's unwillingly clasping cunt.
Looking from the two sexy scenes to Andrea and then back again, Mase did not notice his own children.
Pam was steadily wanking her brother's cock, which was high and rocky-hard and all trembly and throbbing with need.
"Pardon me, sir," the powerful-looking Jerry said, getting himself past the man on the steps. "I've got to go to the bathroom-and get some clothes on." He paused. "Mister Ridgeway?"
A distracted Mase looked up at the boy's very serious face. "Yes ... uh, Jerry?"
"That's right sir, Jerry Staton. Mister Ridgeway, about Andrea ... Miz. Haider. You're our hero. You rescued us. She's gotta be punished, really punished. And if we let all this get out to the police, though our parents-and you too-will just ... pardon me sir, but they'll just shit! Please, Mister Ridgeway, we have to take care of them ourselves and then go home and keep our mouths shut."
Mason blinked. What the boy said was very sensible indeed. And his manner, and frequent use of the old-fashioned "sir"....
"You're a hell of a polite youngster, Jerry. Why are you here, in the first place?"
"I was caught balling our next-door neighbor. Miz Willoughby. She's a widow. And-honest, Mister Ridgeway-it was her who put the make on me! Honest!"
Mason nodded, taking in the boy's fine figure. He had already seen his virile, manly cock. "Jerry-I believe you."
Jerry flashed him a small, tight smile. "Thank you, sir. Oh, and what I was saying-please don't let us down now, Mister Ridgeway, not after you rescued us and actually overpowered that-that Amazon. I tried tangling with her once-and she knocked the shit out of me. Anyhow ... please give her what she deserves, sir."
"Jerry's right, Dad," Hal said, and Mason saw that his son and daughter also stood close-so did the nice-looking Leo, and the other boy who had come, Randy. Randy and Leo were nodding.
"We'll never forget each other, none of us," Leo said. "But-we better stay way away from each other. We all share this awful secret. And it had better stay that ... a secret."
"Oh god yes," Randy put in, looking very worried. "Dad's a lawyer, and all uptight about his image and good name anyhow. If we turned these people in, the publicity'd kill him!"
Mason Ridgeway blinked. Considered. His eyes roamed from the earnestly appealing youths and their intense faces, all awaiting his decision, to the curly-haired Jesse over there fucking Vanessa's pussy from behind-Mason was sure the girl was grooving on it now, since she was shoving herself back onto the hard rod cramming her from behind. The man's eyes shifted, raked over the sprawled Sabra, with Frank seated on her large pillowy titties and pushing his cock steadily in and out of her face.
And Mason looked over at the incredibly sexy big woman who was the mother of the two raped girls, the woman responsible for all of this-and, surely, for the very fact that her daughters merited this sort of treatment.
She lay along the top of the sawhorse, bound to it hand and foot, boots gleaming, kinky stockings and satin garter belt digging into her wealth of rich flesh. Her monumentally sexy ass was poked almost straight up into the air, and her outsized tits dangled beneath her like torpedoes fished up, unexploded, from the sea, and hung up to dry.
She stared back at him with enormous dark eyes whose expression and message he could not read. Mase considered ... and nodded.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was a weird, almost mystical scene, like the solemn rites of some lodge or secret society, the way the six boys stood close and vowed never to betray the truth about what had happened in this place, to anyone.
Andrea would not dare tell anyone, including the rapes, into cunt and mouth, of both her daughters. And now the boys had agreed not to tell.
This took place after Andrea Haider's punishment.
They all watched, Pam and Hal, Sabra and Vanessa, Frank and Leo and Jerry and Randy and Jesse, while the boys' rescuer meted out Haider-style punishment to the senior Haider.
With Andrea helplessly bound on the sawhorse, the lips of her sex pressed uncomfortably onto it and her big backside upturned in unwilling offertory, Mason Ridgeway whipped the big woman. He used the short riding crop.
Taking up his stance behind her, Mase struck swiftly, knowing that she was concentrating on her bonds and the painful pressure of the wooden sawhorse's top bar against her stomach and vulval lips. The short, barely flexible crop flashed down with a sinister zzzzzz sound in the air.
She jerked violently, screaming in shock and exquisite agony at the terrible kiss of the rushing whip. A cheer rose from the spectators, all of whom had received worse from her.
Panting and perspiring, Andrea seemed to dance in her bonds, bouncing and sliding atop the sawhorse, jerking at the cords while shivers of pain and horror and disbelief rippled through her fine great figure. The dominatrix tasted her own strong medicine. The shirt-sleeved man struck again: whish-whiick! Utterly, completely, unquestionably conquered and powerless now, the big brunette was in tears, her body quivering all over. Each breath was a grunting little gasp of effort against the slim ridge of wood that pressed up against her.
And he whipped her. She began to sob, wailing as her once-white buttocks grew increasingly more red. It remained a tempting and unprotecting target, and he sent another burning lash rushing across the very bases of both cheeks. The bound woman grunted at the sudden new stab of pain into that muscular but nevertheless fatty flesh. Mase struck, again, and again. Now and again his victim emitted a scream of agony that seemed to rip the air. ' He continued to wield the whip, falling into a steady, perfectly timed tempo. His erection was a great painful pressure against his fly. His eyes remained on the target: her tight-clenched ass winced and crawled, visibly flinching and tightening. Her whole body swayed slightly from side to side at the hips, her toes touching the floor alternately on either side of the sawhorse that contained and proffered' her, as she writhed and sought to cool her burning tail.
And he continued to burn that scarlet ass.
Each time the harsh leathern strap lashed across its white target it left another flaming red streak.
Sweat was pouring down the punished woman's flanks now. Her mouth writhed. Her body twisted, seeking an escape that was impossible. And each blistering smack of the crop made her bare rump sizzle and bounce, leaping across her flesh like a streak of fire.
Without even realizing what he was doing in his heart-pounding excitement, her punisher dragged down his zipper and liberated his cock. It was enormous, a luridly pink bludgeon that the watching Pam wondered how she had ever comfortably taken into herself. The thick tube of ripe meat swung out and up, curving like an archer's bow and yearning from him as if straining toward the bound Amazon's captivatingly curved body.
With his prick bobbing before him, he struck, and struck.
Andrea had closed her eyes and was biting down into her lower lip, moaning steadily. Sweating, groaning, she swung her hot and naked backside helplessly as he worked to chastise and destroy its beauty.
Tears blurred her eyes, spurted from them. The sight was an utter delight to the watching ex-victims of the dominated dominatrix.
The man behind her knew she was brave, and strong, no mewling little chick, and that she was striving for silence. But she could not stop the hellish groans that trembled out of her tight-held mouth.
Mase in his turn did not stop until her body was marked and re-marked, crossed and crisscrossed with bright whipmarks and great swollen welts and the little rivulets of scarlet that seeped from the opened wounds on the very summits of her buttocks.
When he ceased, panting and sweating, everyone else was silent, awed. But her soft moans did not cease. Her body continued jerking and twitching, and he was sure that were he to release her now, her knees would buckle and she would fall to the floor.
But he did not release her. He dropped the whip-and dropped his pants, only to protect them from stains. He wasn't worried about his shirttail; need and lust were so high and hard-throbbing in him that he hadn't time to worry about it.
He stepped forward, behind her.
Andrea felt the swollen knob of his prick as it rose up throbbing between the bulging contours of her ass. Her mightily whipped ass.
She moaned and trembled.
First he used his hand to fit the bud-like head of his massive column of red meat between the puffy, pulpy lips of her vulva.
Then, jerking forward to lose his aching prong in her, he smacked hell out of the already swollen melons of her surging rump with his body, pushing deeper and deeper into a emit he found very slushy and warm and open.
His slippery hard-on buried itself far up her receptive furrow with a soft, sucking noise that was audible to every one of the eleven persons in the torture-room basement.
The very base of his shaft was snugly gripped by her deeply split hole. She groaned, sighed, and a long tremor ran through her big Amazon's body, a body of unparalled voluptuousness.
He began fucking hard at once, with great pistoning strokes that made loud slapping noises and jarred her. Her great torpedoes of breast leapt and swung under her, becoming heavier and heavier. With each stroke of his grinding crotch, his thick horn slid all the way into the bound woman's smooth-walled pussy.
It was painful for her, he knew that. Even through the slippery silky flesh of her cunt, he could feel the unyielding pressure of the sawhorse pressing up against his cock. She was tight. To her it must feel much as it had that first time she had taken a man's organ into her body-though had she been well-loved and well prepared, back then, it would have been more pleasant than this, surely!
Yet that chamber of soft flesh was soft and clinging around the swollen muscle with which he prodded her, making her well-oiled inner walls stretch into an accommodating shape. He wondered if she hated men. Without realizing the stupidity of the wish, he sincerely hoped that she did!
His hands dug into the swelling, jutting ovals he had so viciously hurt and darkened and welted. His hips swung back and forth, his strong, small ass tucking in and clenching tightly, to boost his tautly stretched dick up into her. His body rearwardly slapped hers, again and again, as he drove in and squishily out of her. The powerful movements of his hips spanked her quivery bottom, splatting his groin constantly against the delicious half-globes of that fleshy ass.
He felt her cunt contract as if in a mad fury of lust-was that possible?-while leaking hot droplets of slippery nectar. The steaming staff of his loins sludged through that lake, and whipped it to a froth.
The tall, heroically built woman's body was shaking violently under the onslaught of his pulsing, battering cock. He thrust it into her with the callous enthusiasm of a berserk rapist, and it dipped ever deeper into her expanding and dilating cunt sheath.
It was wildly exciting, this rape, balling into the bitch-woman who had tormented his son and the others. The shuddering man knew he would last no longer than these boys, so excited and delighted was he to do this, to pummel and punch this castrating woman from behind.
Bending his knees a little, he swung his meaty organ in and out of her, feeding her its length and its whole cunt-distending girth. The sweet, hair-framed lobes of her moist and throbbing orifice clung to his prick so that they slid slickly up and down it in a soft enfolding caress.
He wondered at the groaning woman's emotions and thoughts; then, as he felt her body's helpless responses, his strokes grew more and more slippery, as her cunt pumped out an ocean of hot lubricating juices. Now he moved even faster, blurring in and out. His punching horn stirred up those hot musky juices slithering down the walls of her well-stuffed quim and splashed it over her tremulous thighs.
Beneath her, her big long breasts swung and slapped wildly, now and then thumping against one of the supports of the sawhorse. She groaned and sighed, gasped and panted for breath. After all she had done here, after putting down those nasty boys and keeping them down; she was getting her recompense in this ritual of humiliation and female domination by a strong, whipping and now raping male.
Andrea was almost fainting as that mighty cock stormed in and out of her, stirring up her fleshy cleft as it had not been agitated in many years. This was no boy, she thought, though her brain was semi over whelmed. Nor was this a normal weak American male, content to let his boss and wife and even children decide and rule his life. This was a man.
He had overpowered her ... forced her to the floor ... sat on her ... forced her into submission ... bound her ... whipped her as she deserved ... and raped her ... and now he was coming into her!
"Ah-aaaaaghhhhhhh!" she groaned out gutturally.
The straining, gasping man behind her showered her with sperm in a pulsing discharge that utterly creamed and inundated her clasping pussy.
He held it in her, pushing strongly so as to keep it deep-sunk and to intimidate the muscular strength of her backside. He held it there a long while after he had ceased ejaculating, soaking his cock in her, soaking it in his own spermy discharge.
Then at last he straightened. His hands glided along her pain-smarting flanks, and his fleshy plug popped out of her wet, still-tight little opening.
She felt his come oozing out of her, tickling a little, and his hand was a burning weight on her bottom.
Then she heard the others cheering, and she knew the depths of humiliation and degrading conquest.
CHAPTER NINE
"Don't bother running any little tests of Hal's and Pam's authority, you two," Mason Ridgeway said.
In the large kitchen of their home-that-had-been-a-school-for-perversity, Andrea Haider's daughters stared at him.
After making sure they understood that he had met their gazes and was not being forced to glance away, he looked at their mother, who stood beside him.
"Isn't that right, Andrea." It was not really a question.
Mutely, she nodded.
Dressed like sexy slaves, the tall redhead, Vanessa, and her plump brunette sister Sabra went to work, preparing dinner for six. With them in the sprawling country kitchen were Pam and Hal Ridgeway, clothed-and armed with the Haider sisters own whips. Neither of Ridgeway's teenaged offspring wore a friendly expression. Pam was just as pissed off and ready to retaliate for her brother's mistreatment as was Hal himself.
"OK, Andrea, let's go to the office, now," Mason said, touching the tall woman's arms. He stood still while she looked up into his face; waited while she turned and preceded him out of the kitchen and along the hallway to her office.
Aside from the Ridgeways and the Haiders, the house was empty, and growing ever darker in the wake of sunset. Parents had come and the unused portion of their sons' "tuition" had been returned to them by Andrea, with Mason looking on. All the boys were gone. Like it or not, their parents had bought the story Andrea had told them, repeating Mason's dictation.
"This is Mase Mason," she had said, wearing her severe bun and glasses and the long dress in which Mason had first seen her; the outfit, a lie, was all any of the parents had seen of this woman to whom they had entrusted their errant sons. "We're going to be married, and he's moving in here. I am closing the school. I'm really terribly sorry that this came up so suddenly, but ... I'll return your money to you, and Mase is so dominant, and ... you must realize how happy I am! It just wouldn't be fair to the boys to keep them on, now."
There had been some objections, and some indignant noises. But the parents had accepted it, because they had to. They too were in a strange position; all had committed their sons for what might be considered legally punishable offenses, but without the authorities having been notified. Knowledge of the offenses, though, had been shared with Andrea Haider.
Thus the parents realized that this woman "had something on them." There could be no refusal to take their boys back, whether they wanted to or not.
As for Andrea-her situation was the same, but it was even worse. If culpability and guilt were red paint, Mason had pointed out to her, she'd be covered with scarlet from crown to toenails. As Andrea had something on the parents-the boys' rescuer had even more on her.
For that reason, no matter how it rankled her, she had to go along with the desires and dictates of "Mase Mason." So she had agreed to her daughters' becoming kitchen servants under the watchful eyes of this man's son and daughter, and now she entered her office, just as he directed. She may have been seething, but there was not a damned thing she could do about it, short of murder. And despite her cruelty, the way she had dominated the youths and loved that domination of their male minds and bodies, there was nothing of the murderess in Andrea Haider.
She submitted.
"I've seen enough of that stupid charade outfit of yours, my dear," Mase told her, once they were in her warm, paneled-wall office. She had gone instinctively around behind the desk, returning to the base of her territory and former domination. Now she blinked at him across the desk, through the heavy spectacles.
"Take off those glasses."
Tight-lipped, she stared at him a moment, then lifted both hands. She obeyed. The spectacles made a tiny thunk noise on her desk blotter.
"Let down your hair."
Her hands rose higher, removing pins and uncoiling the thick black tresses, and soon her beautifully refulgent mass of rich raven hair was once again falling down about her face and onto her shoulders, making her face less long and softening its planes and strong lines.
"The smock. Get rid of it," he told her.
She did, and though she was braless and wore the strap that held her bosom's ebullience down, her breasts were a swelling pressure beneath the bodice of the dark, old-fashioned dress.
"Now the dress, Andrea."
She stared, her lips tightening. He returned her gaze steadily. The mutual gazes became stares, became a duel. And she lost. Her teeth appeared, sinking into her lower lip. She blinked, several times. Mase continued to stare at her, implacably and expectantly.
Reaching uncomfortably behind her, she unbuttoned the dress, down and down her back. It loosened while he watched. When it was open, she hesitated, again gazing into his gray-blue eyes with her dark ones.
Then, with her right hand, she tugged the dress's long left sleeve down, and off, until her shoulder was bared and the black fabric rumpled on the bound down shelf of her breasts. After another hesitation, she stripped it off her right arm. The front of her dress dropped to her waist, and there was the long bulge across her upper chest, two twinned struts of her tits held down and motionless by the long strip of beige medical "tape" she had wrapped three times around herself; the same stretchy stuff used to immobilize and strengthen sprained ankles or wrists.
Her dress piled up at her waist.
"Get rid of that dress," Mason Ridgeway directed, in a tone that was that of neither a friend nor an enemy; it was a quiet command, issued by a man who knew it would be obeyed and thus did not have to speak sharply or loudly, or change the bland arrangement of his facial features.
With a couple of necessary wriggles she curbed as well as she could, the tall woman pulled her dress over her hips and buttocks. From there it plummeted down out of sight, to the floor behind her desk. The watching man's lips curved slightly into a small smile as she straightened. She still wore what she had been wearing when he and Pam had invaded her basement torment-and-sex domain: a black satin garter belt that tautly supported fancily figured black hose turned grayish from being stretched around her big thighs, and the high-heeled leather boots, also black.
"Your cunt isn't just naked," he said, "it's framed, offered, emphasized!" He smiled. "The pussy I invaded," he added, gazing steadily at the flamboyantly thrusting mound' with its thatch of shining black. Suddenly strengthening his voice, he added, "No no! Do NOT press your legs together, Andrea."
She obeyed. She stood there and suffered his searching male gaze on her provocative cunt, black-framed by the garter belt above, and its taut descending straps on either side.
He took a few steps, to a point just beside the midpoint of her desk. "Come here."
Still silent, not frowning or contorting her face but obviously inwardly seething and deliberately maintaining a strong control over herself, she stepped from behind the desk. The tall woman stood before him. In the high-heeled boots, she was so close to his height that the difference was not worth mentioning.
"You're a big woman," Mase said.
She met his gaze, saying nothing.
"Was your husband a big man?"
Her face tightened. Her lips compressed. She stared at him in silence, but a fire had nickered into life behind her eyes.
"No," she said at last.
"A little guy you could dominate, hmm?"
Her face went ugly, and now her eyes flamed. "You have no right to say that!"
Mase gave his head a single brief shake and showed her a very small, almost boyish grin. "We have no business talking about things like who had or has not the right to do or say this or that, now have we? You had no right to do what you did to and with those boys. I had no right to invade your house and break it up. I have no right to give you orders now, you and your daughters. But ... I am doing it. I've got you, Andrea, and I say it's my right. So-it is."
"Might makes right?" she asked quietly, with a satirically questioning look.
"Something like that-you were mighty, up until this afternoon when I broke up your vicious little . playhouse. You had assumed you had the right. I do now. Now-You said Mister Haider wasn't a big man. I asked if he was a little guy you could dominate-that seems the natural assumption and corollary."
"Assumption," she said, "corollary. You talk in big words, Mister Ridgeway."
"Call me Mase."
She pursed her lips slightly.-"Is that spelled with an V, or with a 'c', as in the medieval mace, a weapon-a club for striking?"
The man gave her a sardonic grin. "As you wish," he said. "Whichever way you wish, Andrea." He did not touch her, but used his voice as if it were a clamping, demanding hand. "Now answer the question."
"No," she said, "my husband was not a little man I could or did dominate. He was a small man who was a tiger, worth twenty other men. He ruled himself, and his associates, and he ruled me. No one objected; he was enough man to do it, and we all knew it. When he died, I knew at once that there is no objective justice, and therefore very probably no god. Certainly no god who or that gives a damn! My husband was the sort of man who should have lived."
Mason was astonished at her outburst-though she spoke in a low voice, it was so intense and so swiftly uttered that outburst was the proper word.
After a long while, he said, "I'll be damned."
She said nothing, nor did her expression change.
"I am ... amazed," he admitted. "Obviously you loved him. So-a man like that died, and you've sort of been getting even with males ever since, hmm?"
"He had no right to die and leave me! If there is a god, he-or she, or it-had no right to take such a man out of this world!"
'We're back to talking about 'rights' again," he reminded her. "Turn around, Andrea."
She looked questioningly at him, uncertain.
"I said turn around. Show me your back. It's time for that awful band to come off those handsome big tits of yours. I'm going to do it."
She turned, and stood still while he unpinned the stretchable medical binding and unwound it, forcing her to hold her arms out to her sides, going about his task slowly, then watching the last of the binding leap away around her as her breasts sprang up to their normal pridefully jutting positions.
He flipped the long beige strip over his left shoulder so that it hung down in front and back, ready to be plucked off and used. Then he slipped his hands between her arms and her body, and around her, and onto her fat white knockers.
Instantly she sucked up a swift audible breath, at the same time going tense all over. She did not try to move away, though, but stood stiffly while his large, dominating hands closed over the pear-curved bulges of her tits, and squeezed them, his fingers denting the elastic softness of each soft, yet muscular, white breast.
"Treating these as you have, strapping them down that way, is shameful. Women did that back in the twenties and thirties-and destroyed the muscles, and years later had some nastily high incidence of breast cancer. Besides-that bandage left all these ugly marks."
While he spoke, he continued his massaging manipulations of her breasts. Standing behind her, he worked casually with the tall woman's soft tits, pressing his fingers into the resilient plumpness, hesitating tantalizingly while she looked sadly down, on the point of objecting to the pressure and the casual, grotesque way he was misshaping her tender tits.
Then he squeezed, hard, and, just as she started again to object, he returned to the gentle strokes and finger pressures that imparted a lot of ripple and shudder and jiggle to her mammary magnificence. His warmth-radiating hands now fondled the trembling globes in a soothing series of caresses that brought soft sighs from her.
He breathed in the lovely essence of her hair and scalp as he stood just behind her, enjoying the uninhibited play of his fingers over her naked breasts. He still wore trousers and dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His crotch did not quite touch the strongly jutting pads of her backside.
The superb fruits he handled practically begged to be squashed into the kinky submissiveness of new shapes.
Deliberately, he squashed them. He-pressed in hard with his palms, while his fingers clung tenaciously to the breathtaking proportions of the big woman's big breasts. Covering as much of their outward projections as he could with his hands, he pulled. Steadily, relentlessly, she was forced back against him. His nose pressed into her hair. He felt the strength and combined soft-hardness of her ass against his crotch. He heard her panting, felt her quakes and quivers, inhaled the aroma of her thick black hair.
"Oh-ohhhhh...."
Her world spun and tried to rearrange itself, with new contents and rules and borders. Her shame and deep feeling of voluptuary enslavement grew. She heard herself moaning in helpless sensuous response, even while her tits flashed messages of discomfort and, now and then, pain to her reeling brain. She moaned, sighing and surrendering, leaning weakly against him, his long male strength, his hard chest, and she was a bundle of totally cowed acquiescence ... and aroused sensuality.
Oh, he reasoned, that must be her late husband's name. She's lost track of what's happening, when it is ... or she's pretending! One thing's for sure-her body's responding. Mase pondered, briefly. Act angry, punish her for calling him by another man's name? No, he decided. Perhaps later, another time. For now-let her have that refuge. Besides, the feeling was unavoidable: she had said Ernest was strong, and she loved him with an obvious fierceness. Mase couldn't help being flattered.
While he continued to use his hands, both lovingly and roughly, alternately and all at once, on her heroically structured tits, he held his crotch firmly against her naked ass. The cheeks spread, seemingly trying to envelop the penis that was rising to become a hard shaft, a staff, a cudgel, a ... mace. She was moving, too, slowly and softly, in tiny semi-revolutions of her hips, to caress him with her ass-to caress her ass with the fabric of his pants, hard-pressed from within by his rising cock.
Using his hands on her breasts and his body against hers as the means of pressure, he let her know silently that she was to turn. She did, slowly, shifting her feet slightly and a little at a time, until she faced the edge of her desk. Now he strained against her, also striving to slide his feet forward. She responded to this new unspoken persuasion, too, still in silence-except for her soft sighs and moans. He moved her forward until she was against the desk. Its edge now pressed at the rounded fronts of her pantied thighs, about six inches below the juncture of those thighs and the deep, hot slice of her sex.
He forced her forward still, though, simply by leaning forward along her back. At last her arms swept out, and with two little slapping sounds her hands came down on the desktop. Now she was bent forward from the waist, with her thigh-fronts against the desk. There was no place else for her to go. She supported herself there, her body bowing, while he maintained a strong force against her with his body behind hers-and kept right on working with greedy handfuls of round, melon-like tit.
Keeping one hand in place, stuffed full of warm, dough-like breast, he reached down between them with his right. A quiver went through her when she felt his hand on her naked bottom, teasing at its central crease, gliding on down to make her wonder if he were going to begin toying with the puffy pouting pussy lips that were so naked and vulnerably proffered by her position.
He didn't tell her to open her legs. He slipped his hand between the soft, humidly warm tops of her thighs, and pressed outward. More and more, she obeyed the new unspoken command by parting her legs. So humidly warm were her thighs that he felt their surfaces sticking to his hand, the skin stretching, just for a moment. Then her legs were well open, her cunt propped open and ready.
He surprised her by withdrawing his hand.
The slightly smiling man knew, however, that she felt the back of his hand against her butt, that she heard the little sound made by the zipper of his fly as he ran it down.
She went tense and emitted a high-voiced grunting sound when his big thick cock sprang timidly from his pants and slapped against the cleavage of her ass, so that she felt it against each cheek's beginning inner curve.
For the first time since he had commanded her to turn, Mase spoke. His words were harsher and more openly commanding, too, than any he had ever spoken to any other woman.
"Keep your legs apart. Lower yourself onto your forearms, and brace yourself. You're about to get fucked. Relax and enjoy it!"
With no sound other than a trembly little moan, she obeyed. Slightly wider went her feet, widening the aperture between her thighs. Her ass seemed to rise higher in its tempting double curve, as her back assumed a more downward angle.
She waited, trembling. She was unable to see him working up all the spit he could, and transferring it to his hand, and then to his cock. He repeated that operation, and repeated it again.
Guiding the swollen shaft with his hand, he aimed his cock where he wanted it.
Then, standing behind her with hips pressed up against the full, convulsively quivering bulges of her perfect posterior, he pushed himself between them to nudge against her tiny anus.
"No!"
With that cry she tried to shut him out-and succeeded only in clamping his cock between her cheeks. When she started to straighten in a rush, he pressed one hand into the center of her back, hard. She had to remain in her bent position, and she squirmed. "NO!"
"Yes," he said quietly, starting to push. "Oh yes, Andrea."
"Please! You can't-I'm not READY there! WAIT!"
"Was Jesse's ass ready, when you bitches shoved that dildo up it? It didn't look as if you greased it or anything else-that obscene thing was bloody! Be thankful you're getting soft skin, not hard dildo!"
"Ah! No please!" she begged in a tearful voice. "It ISN'T soft! It feels like a-gglaaaahhhhhhhhhhhggg!"
The crinkly little flesh ring of her anus had enveloped his dick's bloated head, and after her outcry she made another sound, a squeaky one of pain-and the knowledge that she had been breached, and was helpless. She had lost, and now she'd have to take the rest of it.
Immediately, she set about pushing strongly with her internal muscles, the powerful rectal muscles that opened the track wide to expel waste matter, day after day.
Methodically, he impaled her gripping little hole with hard, veined flesh that drove deep to nudge her intestine.
More and more thick hot cock disappeared between her bulging rear cheeks.
She trembled and groaned. The slim passage was incredibly stretched and filled, but still he tried to cram more cock into its hotly clenching depths. His organ felt like a sharp-edged wedge of steel, heated steel, as it forced its relentless way into her asshole.
He kept pushing until she had all of it, every tiniest microportion of an inch. Then he withdrew, just a little, to ease the pressure on her inner walls, tugged toward the head of his cock. Not really capable of being a bloody ass-rapist, he remained still then, holding his prick up her rectum, pressing firmly against the cheeks on either side of her enormously distended anus. "Ohhhhhhhh...."
"Now relax," he told her. "Relax. You'd better-I'm giving you a chance, but I assure you I'm going to fuck your asshole anyhow!"
The woman lying forward across her own desk worked hard to achieve relaxation of the powerful muscles backing the inner walls of her ass. Great tremors whipped through her bowed, not-quite-naked body-a big body that was all the more appealing and sexy for not being naked!
He stood over her, gazing down at the big trembling heart shape of her butt, its cheeks concealing his cock all the way to his thighs and its normally tiny central aperture hotly housing his maleness.
"Unnnnhhh," she sighed, shivering. That huge log of man-flesh seemed to fill every nook and cranny, every square centimeter, of her anal insides. And of course it did; the tight channel was forced open all around it, and clung to his staff like a rubber glove.
She groaned and trembled again when, pressing against her upturned asscheeks, he began to withdraw. Again her inner membranous surfaces seemed to scream as her delicate rectal walls clung helplessly to the pulsing meaty staff gliding backward from her, stretching along its length. A nervous little sound arose from her, and her fingers curled in at tempts to clutch the desktop blotter as she felt that tugging pressure at the tender flesh of her cringing asshole.
As for her anal rapist, he stared down with a lust-inflamed face. His hands, pushing at her buttocks, pressed the burnished flesh-mounds well apart, so he could look straight down between them. Thus he could enjoy the salacious, lust-inspiring and thoroughly pleasing sight of swollen cock emerging from the little ring it had so greatly expanded.
He saw what the tremorous woman felt: the way her asshole clung to his prick, its mouth stretching along the broad shaft in a moist and glistening length of soft amber-pink flesh, so tautly distended now as to be almost transparent.
He pulled until every inch of his staff was out in the cold, while her rear entry gripped his cock's turgid head. Pausing, he gazed down at that randy, exciting sight, while his hands made caressing motions over her hindcheeks.
Reversing himself, he shoved his cock up her asshole again.
"Uunnnnnnggghhhhh!" she groaned, deep in her throat. The desk pressed firmly into the forefronts of her thighs; his trousered legs were against their backs, sandwiching her between hard desk and hard man.
Again he pulled his hard club of flesh nearly all the way out of her tailhole, until once more only the large helmet-shaped head was tightly entrapped by her anal ring. It was like a rubber band, wrapped around his dick just behind the head.
And again he surged forward to bury it in her. He moved more swiftly this time, rushing in. It bur rowed up her with less resistance, too, for she was accustoming herself to the dilating intrusion and forcing herself to relax more and more. Still again he tugged, and pushed.
The big virile man began fucking steadily up her ass.
Her body rocked and quaked as he pounded its firm haunches. He trembled; the circular embrace of that deep, hot indentation all around his turgid erection was burning in his balls that filled him with a wild sexual passion and utter delight in assfucking her.
She groaned and squirmed, opening wide under the intruding length of stimulating maleness rooting up her anal pocket. He knew that she could feel it all, feel every centimeter of his lust-bloated pole, entrenching itself deeply in the tight hole of her ass. He possessed her utterly. His heavy meat slid and slithered into the slender crease that divided her plump, firm, only slightly jiggling buttocks.
"Oh, it-is-a pleasure to fuck your tight warm asshole, big woman!"
There could be no doubt; his voice was passion-filled, and he was starting to whip in and out of her with more and more speed and enthusiasm. His crotch slapped her cheeks harder and harder.
She blinked, staring down at the desktop against which her hands were braced. Her pain-it was gone! It had vanished like a patch of light fog on a sunny morning. With ease now, the tender, snug passage between her upturned rearcheeks clasped his big hard-on in a tight elastic ring-a tight ring, but one that expanded incredibly, so as to accept the invader lovingly and without discomfort.
Swinging easily on his well-planted feet, snapping his own ass forward and back, he fucked her ass.
She trembled and moaned-in rapture, welcome or not, and not in anything approaching pain. Diffusing pleasure spread out from her stuffed anus and her passion grew, swelled, mounted.
"Uh, Uh, uhh-" she gasped, hunching down so as to gain some scrubbing pressure from the felt-like blotter against her nipples.
The bowed woman felt empty in her steaming hot cunt, all slick with the juice she knew was about to start overflowing to trickle down her quivery thighs. His violent lunges were driving him deeply and easily into that salacious, tightly housing hole between the sweet demiglobes of her plump ass, and she felt him shuddering in erotic ecstasy.
"Fuck ... your ... asssss!" he grunted, and punctuated the words with a hard thumping slam of his body against her cheeks. So powerful was that surge that the big pads flattened slightly, and she got an extra half-inch of sausage-like cock up the back.
In and out of that dark hot valley his cock cruised, with his body slapping the snowy mountains rising on either side of it.
He thrust hard, skewering her asshole, driving the massive dilated length of his cock up it, his hips smacking her jouncy rumpcheeks so hard they flattened out and bulged slightly outwards, then sprang back as he eased up a bit to begin his next stroke far up the tight-fitting sheath of her rectal niche.
Feeling his balls tightening up, he deliberately slacked up to make it last. Holding still with his cock well implanted, he leaned forward. The conquering man reached around her quaking hips to grasp her dangling breasts in his big hands.
"Hunnnnnh!" she grunted, both in surprise and sensuous appreciation of his hands on her sensitive tits.
The hanging pendants were slippery with perspiration, which coated their silky smoothness like oil. She moved in undisguised pleasure when he raised the pendulum-hanging projectiles in both hands, relieving her chest of their dragging weight.
He was not gentle, this vengeful man with his cock shoved all the way up her rectal canal. He squeezed her tits with a lusty fury until the flesh swelled up into thick white ridges, like long bloodless hills forced upon her smooth-surfaced breasts, as if pushed up from inside by some burrowing tiny creature.
At the same time he shifted his hips, moving them back and forth, increasing her embowelment by making the burning, inflamed rammer contained in her rectum move about in her, rubbing the walls of the long deep channel. She groaned, sighed, trembled....
His big hands and clenching fingers manipulated her tits, mauled the full white mounds and their softly swelling undercurves mercilessly. Big fingertips found big swollen nipples, pushed them until they were forced to telescope deep into the masses they crested, kept pushing them in until she had the weird experience of feeling her own titty-tips ground around against her ribs!
She gasped and her heart palpitated furiously as she shiveringly endured the indecent assault on her sensitive tit-flesh.
He released them of a sudden, so that the scarlet knobs popped forth to quiver in the air. Then, grasping each breast firmly, he hung onto them as he straightened. Deliberately, he let his fingers dig into the resilient flesh, in eight individual points of pressure. Slowly, he backed nearly all of his cock out of her.
"Move."
She trembled, moaned. "Ohhhh .. "
"Move, bitch."
She succumbed to the final humiliation, to her final conquest by this sensuous and sternly dominating man. She moved. She sighed, and pumped her legs, jogging her hips to meet his hard jolting thrusts into her backside's soft groove.
His cock was motionless; her asshole slid up and down along it.
"Ahhhhhh, yes-s-s-s-ssss," he sighed, straining in at the loins and leaning back from the small of his back-while hanging onto her crumpled, flaming tits, the flesh of which bulged out whitely between his clamping fingers.
Then he let go her breasts, making her moan even as the soft plop sounds of their flopping onto the desk rose in the room. Like a raging bull now, he resumed assfucking her.
Firmly, with sharp impacts that rocked her and impressed trenches into the front of her thighs where they pressed so hard against the desk's edge, his body slapped hers from behind, banged into her butt, smacked those cushions of pleasure.
She cried out, and jammed herself back as an overwhelming wave of heat rose over her and she felt she was going blind with the mist before her eyes. His pronging prick split the tender, tight aperture between her jiggling asscheeks and slickered deep, threatening to pierce her bowels and her intestine and open up new channels within her body.
She released another cry, half surprise and half bliss, as her lust-filled body convulsed into violent quakes and paroxysms, crying out in a totally unexpected and truly cataclysmic climax.
There was another surprise: even as she came, he did.
He exploded his semen into that dilated anal channel, crushing himself against the sweetly curved globes of her ass in an effort to spit his seed into her very bowels. She moaned, feeling it, feeling every spurt in that tight channel: his jerking cock sent hot ball-milk pouring into her innermost secret recesses, burning and drowning her asshole at the same time.
His legs went weak with his orgasm, and his calves felt like long-stretched rubber bands suddenly released and quivering, almost flaccidly. But he remained on his feet, leaning heavily on her, heedless of the gouging of her own desk's edge into her rounding thighs, which were protected only by the smoky thin nylons.
He smelled the aromas of sex, and sweat, and semen, and the pervasive odor of her own great arousal, now rising from her steaming cunt. He heard their commingled groans and sighs, their gasping for breath in the aftermath of effort and climax. And he felt her broad big ass against his loins, with his cock still inside her.
At last he straightened, replanting his legs, which remained weak. Then, pausing a moment, he suddenly jerked his cock out of her asshole. Clutched too tightly to shrivel even after it had spurted, it swung free, long and thick though not erect, and spotted his trousers with semen. More of it oozed out of her spasmodically squeezing little asshole.
But he saw that only for a moment; with a long groan at his ungentle emergence from her anus, the big woman sagged onto the desk. Then slowly, with squeegy noises of her sweaty flesh dragging over its surface, she slid backwards. Andrea fell to the floor, curling onto her side and lying there. Her big naked tits, covered with gleaming sweat, heaved. Her mass of coal-black hair stuck to her. Her eyes were closed.
Mase Ridgeway stood over her, staring down at her magnificent Valkyrie body. He had read about the "little death"-but this was the first time he'd ever fucked a woman into unconsciousness!
CHAPTER TEN
As he finished up his meal, deliberately stretching it out, Mason Ridgeway was thinking furiously.
Mase sat at the end of the long table that had formerly accommodated all six of the boys in Andrea Haider's grasp. At its opposite end, erect because the position made him feel important, was his son Hal. Not wishing to separate herself from either of them or to show any favoritism, his daughter Pam sat midway down the table, on Mason's left.
Andrea was not present. Her daughters served. They had eaten almost in silence.
Mase was trying to decide what to do now. Just how far dared he let his "children" go in the punishment and subjugation of the three former bitch-dominatrices? Should they just get up and go on home? He hated to, dammit, and he wished this were not Sunday night ... and that Pam and Hal were not present.
Already they'd gone damned far. Pam and Hal had raided the strange Andrea's treasure trove of interesting devices while their father had privately assfucked her. The results of their explorations, and the items they had found, were in considerable evidence.
Vanessa, still wearing the smoke-colored panty hose with the open crotch, again entered the country dining room from the kitchen. Tall, lovely, voluptuous and beautifully formed, Vanessa was ... hooded. Six broad leather straps circled her head horizontally, completely covering her face but for the eyeholes. The straps were riveted in a long line of gleaming brass studs to a connecting strip of leather, which passed up over her head and down the other cheek-where it was identically riveted to the horizontal straps-to be buckled snugly under her strong chin. A delicate little brass padlock swung there.
Naturally, the charming black leather device gagged Andrea's twenty-year-old daughter very effectively. She wasn't just unable to speak-she couldn't even part her lips.
The redhead's movements were otherwise somewhat constricted because of the thick and even broader straps of leather that circled her shapely, large thighs about six inches below the glossy, scarlet-furred triangle of her pubic slice. Her thighs bulged both above and below the tightly buckled straps. Eight inches of small-linked chain connected her thighs and partially accounted for her short, rather mincing steps.
Partially; the molded bung-holer (an anal plug Hal said he had worn day before yesterday, for four hours) of hard rubber also influenced the way she walked! Hal had anchored it in place, sunk to a depth of exactly six inches in her rectal channel.
Aside from the hose, Vanessa was otherwise quite beautifully naked, unless one counted the handsome red velvet stars that adorned her bare and bouncy breasts. Just covering the nipples, they were much like the pasties Mason Ridgeway had seen on strippers.
Andrea's older daughter said nothing, naturally, as she placed their ice cream before the three "guests." Mase patted one of her high-set, nicely spaced buttocks-the panty hose were cut out behind, too-as he looked down at the dessert.
"Thank you, Vanessa," he said quietly. "You're so good to us."
Pam giggled. Vanessa only bobbed her head, then turned and left. She walked slowly, carefully, and rather heavily. Mase knew that with each step the big girl was fucking her own asshole with the bungholer strapped in place by his son and daughter.
It must be quite a sensation, he thought, smiling down the table at Hal and dipping into his ice cream.
"She looks charming in that, don't you think, Dad?"
"Charming, Hal," Mase said, smiling, watching the tight-fleshed, soft-skinned judder of Vanessa's bare buttocks as she returned to the kitchen.
"Maybe we should leave her that way," Pam suggested. "Just for the night."
"I think I'd like her better on her knees," Hal said intensely, "with her mouth in my crotch."
Mase sighed. And he was nervous about his kids! Hell, they were more open than he-and their experience was far greater now, at their ages fifteen and seventeen, than his had been when he was twenty!
"Uh ... umm ... pardon me," Pam said softly, "but what, ah, about my crotch!"
"It's lovely," Hal said, and he and Pam broke up.
"God," Mase moaned, and both his offspring looked guilty, or tried to. Nervous was more like it; they had no idea what the situation was or would be either, or how far they might go.
"Uh ... Dad?" Hal asked, looking into his ice cream. "How-how is Andrea?"
Mase thought about it, decided to answer. "Lovely," he said.
"Yugh!" Pam commented. "Not to me!"
"Last I saw of her," Mason said, briefly checking his watch, "which was just under an hour ago, she was having a bath. A nice hot one, in her own bathroom. With her wrists cuffed in front of her."
Hal grinned. His sister asked, "In the bathtub?"
"In the bathtub," Mase nodded. "Ankles tied to the spigot, right up beside it."
Suddenly Hal was frowning. "My gosh-what if she slid down and couldn't get back up-she could drown, Dad!"
His father shook his head, calmly spooning ice cream into his mouth. "Oh no. The cord across her back, and up through both armpits and then tied to the towel rack above her head-that'll keep her safely seated. The tub is full-just above her breasts." He added, "They float."
"Really? Mine don't!" Pam cried.
"That's because you don't have a pair of footballs stuck on your chest, like dear Andrea," her brother advised.
While they chuckled, Mase raised his voice to call, "I need more water!"
Sabra of the shining black hair and plump body and big jouncy breasts came in from the kitchen almost at once. She wore a black body cincher, made to look like leather though it was not, and it had been cinched very tightly. Designed for the male figure, it made her hips swell in huge white bulges at its base, and crimped up under her tits. It was provided with four garters, which supported the opera-length hose she wore, black ones that rose all the way to the tops of her thighs. Aside from the ankle-cuffs connected by a foot-long length of chain, the brunette wore nothing else. Her over-developed tits bounced delectably with each step she took; she wore high-heeled pumps, which did lovely things for her calves.
She poured all three of them more water, and flinched away from Pam. Mase didn't know what his daughter had done, but Sabra wasn't wild about it. A teasing finger between her big bare buttocks, perhaps.
"Wait, Sabra. Turn around," Hal said.
The girl did, and Mase regarded the welt his son-or daughter, maybe-had put across her naked pink arse earlier. Pam reached out to fondle the welt. Mase watched Sabra wince. But she held reasonably still, and made not a sound.
"Poor baby," Mase said, reaching his decision. "Go and get some cold cream, and bring Vanessa back with you."
Sabra gave him a look that was first sheer surprise, and then reluctant gratitude. She left the kitchen, tits and asscheeks jiggling.
Mase found Hal staring at him. "What're you going to do, Dad?"
"Put cold cream or whatever she brings on that nasty welt, Hal. And into the crack, too. You're going to do the rest."
Hal blinked.
"You won't get your pretty prick dirty, Hal," Pam said, with a little wriggle of anticipatory excitement. "If you do-Vanessa can lick it off!"
Hal responded to that with a jerk as if he'd been pinched. They waited.
Sabra returned with a bottle of lotion and her tall, red-tressed sister. Moving his chair away, Hal told Sabra to lie forward across the table.
The titsy brunette obeyed.
"A little to the left," Mase suddenly said, and Sabra obeyed with great unwillingness. One of her large white tits plopped into the silver bowl containing the still-warm remnants of brown gravy. Mase heard the small splash, which was sexy because he knew it was a tit-splash. He wondered what it felt like; how Sabra felt, standing there bent far forward over the table on her forearms, with one massive breast lying greasily in lukewarm gravy.
Hal began applying the thick white lotion to the striped, upturned hemispheres of Sabra's rump. He smeared it around with his eager fingers, looking for all the world as if he was covering the girl's butt with come. Sabra sighed and moaned a little. Vanessa watched, large-eyed.
"Ummmmm," was the noise that emerged through Vanessa's complicated leather mask.
"Pam-why don't you take Vanessa's mask off," Mase suggested.
Pam hesitated, frowning a little, but she rose to obey. The key to the padlock was on the end of a long, tiny-linked chain of gold color, which she tugged up from between her breasts. (Pam wore someone's long-skirted housecoat, a dress of Kelly green fleece with a low neckline and long sleeves.) Vanessa stood quite still while the much smaller girl unlocked the padlock beneath her chin, then tugged the strap free and, using both hands, slipped the caging mask off the redhead's face.
Vanessa sighed, swallowed, and licked her lips, again and again. There were little marks on her face, left by the multiple leather straps.
"Vanessa," Mase said, "my son tells me that the first time he saw your sister, the two of you were making beautiful girl-to-girl sex together. He wasn't exaggerating, was he? It is so?"
She nodded, again licking her lips.
"I can't hear you, Vanessa."
"Yesss," the girl hissed.
"Pam would like some of that," Mase said, in the same quiet tone, casually assuming he'd gain obedience to anything he said. "She's going to watch Sabra getting her tail soothed, but you're not. Would you like to sit down, Pam?"
"Uh, I-" Pam, glancing around and looking a little unsure, nodded. She sat down.
Mase stood, rising slowly with his-eyes on Vanessa, and was pleased to see that the girl seemed to draw in, fearfully. "Kneel, Vanessa. Lift Pam's skirt-and lick. Pam-let me know if it isn't an absolutely superb and delightful performance. If you shirk, Vanessa, you'll be sorry. Isn't that what you told the boys you've been tyrannizing?"
Vanessa said nothing. She went to her knees before the seated young blonde. With both hands, she lifted the long full skirt, baring the other girl's legs all the way to the slender hips-and the pretty, lightly fleeced young cunt. Slowly, Vanessa's face moved in.
"Ummmmmmmmm," Pam sighed, leaning back with a blissful look on her features. "Ooooh, that's heavenly!"
Hal grinned as he ran his lotion-spreading hand into the fragrant crack that separated the lovely round halves of Sabra's ass. Both Sabra and Pam were moaning and writhing, assailed pleasantly by soft tongue and hands. Not daring to do otherwise, Vanessa was licking the younger girl's split crotch with her long, warm tongue. Sabra could see that, and could feel the soothing caresses of Hal's hand. Groaning in erotic stimulation, she commenced wagging her ass in slow, gentle undulations.
Hal had paused long enough to drop his pants. His stiff young cock bobbed behind the ass he fondled. Sabra's legs were apart, and he could clearly see her mossy mound lying beneath and between the long white curves of her bottom. The swelling, jutting halves were parted and inviting, poking high and bold and very sexy indeed. While her sister slicked her tongue over the third girl's pussy, Sabra bent far over the table with her breast overflowing the gravy bowl.
Hal looked down, noting how the lovely hindcheeks were open to display their deep valley. Deep and mysterious and warm, it opened to its fullest expansion when he slid his lotion-smeared hand up and down it, until the tight-coiled little hole in its center seemed to wink at him. It was pale brown, that hole. He stared at it, and he swallowed. The rectal entry tempted the boy like nothing he had ever seen or considered-and part of the reason was that they had fucked his ass, with a dildo!
It was all the youth could do to keep from lunging forward to sink all of his thick cock into her asshole with one flesh-rending thrust.
He had never before warmed his prong in such a hot little tunnel.
He had a hard-on up to the navel, just from looking at it, thinking about it, rubbing it with his greasy fingers. He thought about stabbing up that reluctant little anus, and in an instant his finger, as if guided by its own tiny brain, had crooked and slid easily inside the bent brunette.
"Uhhhh-hhunnnnhhh-mmmmmm!" Sabra moaned, twitching. She lifted her head and gasped for breath while, with one finger impaling her ass, the boy behind her laid his other hand on one majestic round of her milky, fleshy buttock.
The cheeks trembled. Her anus squeezed his finger. He heard her moan, just as he heard Pam's, and the muffled noises of Vanessa running her tongue deep into the seated blonde's pussy, through ragged inner lips like red satin and into the wet heat of her vagina. Pam, though there was perspiration on her face, was shivering as if cold.
Sabra meanwhile was not even twitching, much less trying to move away from Hal's hands and the heated head of the cock so near her privates ... privates that had been made to go public.
She had relaxed greatly, and opened up around his finger. All of them were surprised when Hal withdrew his finger and pushed his needfully pulsing prick into the same rubbery little hole. Though she groaned and arched her back, Sabra did not cry out. She took the youth's cock right up the ass, far better and easier than her mother had taken Mase's.
He wondered if Sabra could possibly turn on as much as her mother!
Moaning and groaning, shivering and twitching, Hal skewered her with libidinous strength, pulsing and pumping into the hole between the twin white cheeks of her squirming ass.
Pam hardly noticed.
Passion and extreme erotic bliss made the girl feel dazed and groggy. How nice Vanessa's cuntlapping tongue was! The seated blonde moaned, whimpered, swiveled her head to and fro as if in pain. Her boiling womb was ravenously hungry.
Slippery soft membranous flesh tried to clasp the redhead's sweet, darting tongue, to enfold its probing presence in her. Her youthful cunt flowered open wider and wider and Vanessa heard the abandoned tempo of the girl's breaths and little groans. Fine silky hair caressed the redhead's face as her tongue dived in to swirl around and around inside that savory slit.
Pam's thighs flexed against the warming pressure of strong, large, but femininely gentle hands. Hot viscous fluid streamed in flowing rivulets, an obscene drool from the elastic lips of her pussy. She writhed and twisted violently.
Then the other young woman's tongue found the pearl in that tempting, wet pink oyster, and she licked it, sipping the syrupy liquor that oozed forth around it.
The seated blonde let out a high, desperate-sounding squeal, and came like a fountain.
Her climax rolled over her in passionate surges that made her scream again. She sighed, and cried out still again, jerking and quivering in delicious delight. Grabbing the glossy black-haired head between her clamping, sweating thighs, she hunched to it even as she pressed it against her.
Only when the movements of Vanessa's hands became desperate did Pam release her and allow the girl to gasp and snort in the air her lungs were screaming for.
By that time, Sabra was moaning and grinding her hips around, welcoming and aiding the slithering skewering of the cock up her asshole. But Hal had a sudden perverse idea. With both hands pressed firmly against Sabra's trembly hindcheeks, he pulled back-all the way. '
"OW! Oh-ohh-ohhhhhh...." Sabra moaned in desperation, backing up in search of that big hot male goad that had been making her feel so good, and of which she had now been robbed.
But she was left to sob in frustration, for Hal walked from her, swiftly around the table. Pam knew instinctively what her brother wanted and intended, and she helped him, getting the gasping Vanessa turned around.
Straight from her own sister's well-fucked asshole, Hal's slimy cock plunged into Vanessa's mouth.
"Eat ... cock ... slut!" Hal snarled.
The quivering youth fucked her face, because he had to; he was that aroused and that near his peak. His balls slapped noisily against her quivering chin as his lurching prick pumped out her saliva to drool from the corners of her distended mouth.
He humped her head helplessly, furiously, his cockhead ripping into the depths of her dripping mouth, belting hard into the face of the helplessly kneeling brunette.
"Way to go Vanessa-suck that thing!" Hal said.
His ears were assailed by the slushy pumping sounds and muted groans that poured from her penis-stuffed face. Then he cried out, stiffening so tautly that he shuddered.
He shot, groaning and jerking with his ejaculation, drenching her mouth and leaving trickles of sperm dribbling down over her tremorous chin. She knelt there with bowed head, tears streaking down her cheeks, and actually sucked, making certain she drained the groaning boy of every hot milky drop.
Hal staggered back, his already limpening cock slopping wetly out of the girl's mouth, dribbling semen onto her tits and the floor as he slumped weakly into a chair. He stared at her with glassy eyes.
Sabra looked sullen and spiteful. Having forgotten she was a mistreated captive of this avenging trio, she could, only begrudge her sister the last pumps of that nice soothing cock, and the warm soothing lotion it had shot into her face instead of up Sabra's wanting ass....
Even though she had enjoyed an absolutely lovely orgasm, Pam's face wore a similar expression. She liked that fine young poker, too!
There was silence in the dining room. Mase sat thinking, turned on to the point of pain, where his distended dick throbbed like a drum against his too tight fly. His third hard-on of the day!
He said, "Vanessa ... Sabra. You're both aware that you've broken maybe a half-dozen laws, along with your mother, and can not only be tried but surely convicted and put away. Right?"
Both Andrea's daughters looked miserably at him. Both nodded.
So did Mase. "Good. You also know then that you are going to be absolutely silent about everything that's happened here this afternoon and night-so that well remain silent about what happened here before todav. Right?"
Sabra nodded.
"We understand," Vanessa said in a resigned voice. "We aren't stupid, Mister Ridgeway. We'll never tell a soul."
"You do that," Pam said, "and you've got my promise that I won't!"
"Me too," Hal said.
, Their father was nodding getting up from his ladder-backed chair.
"That's the agreement," he said. "Tit for tat. Quid pro quo. Punishment for punishment, sex for sex, and ... silence for silence."
After a while Pam said, "Daddy? Now what?"
"I really think that, considering all these two have done for you, that you and Hal should find a way to get them off, too," Mase said. He pushed his chair under the table from long habit. "While I pay a last visit to their mother. Then we've got to go home-I have to work tomorrow!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With him as he went to Andrea's bedroom, Mase took a couple of flashlight batteries, her own stiff little riding crop, and the metal clamps that had so nastily pinched Hal's diminutive masculine nipples.
What a damned shame, Mase thought, that this woman was-what she was! She was utterly magnificent, the most magnificent and thoroughly desirable woman he had ever met. She seemed to be just what a man looked for and seldom found: a totally sexual being in a supremely female body. But ... she wasn't just "untamed." She was worse. Andrea was a woman who, for whatever reason, seemed to need to dominate and humiliate males.
Well, the man thought grimly, pausing in her bedroom to strip, she wouldn't dominate or humiliate this one! He had humiliated her in front of her former victims, in front of her own daughters. And he dominated her now as if he owned her. He pulled a pair of her jeans out of the closet.
He. sighed, heading for the bathroom. And I love it, dammit, he thought. Too had she s-what she is. I'll never forget Andrea Haider!
The woman bound in the bathtub, her big white breasts floating and bobbing gently, certainly hadn't forgotten him. She rolled her sad eyes his way as he entered the bathroom that adjoined her boudoir.
"Hello, Andy. The rest of us ate very well-your daughters are good cooks. You should be proud of them. I'm sure they'd be proud of you, too-how nice and clean and sweet and feminine you look! Do you feel relaxed after your long bath?"
She didn't answer, and Mase didn't bother making her.
"Well, let's get you out of this nice bath-ouch! Still hot-and get you dried off, little girl."
She was a little stiff, and once he'd untied her he had to help the silent Amazon out of the tub. Water ran off her big frame in noisy splashes, leaving little bubbles and strange unwatery patches all over her-he had dumped into the bathwater a liberal supply of her oil. The film it left on her long, amazingly rounded body made her all the sexier.
Leaving the stockings and garter belt on had been a mistake; now they were just a mess. Her wrists were still cuffed in front of her as Mase had Andrea stand on the fluffy bathmat between tub and toilet. He unclipped her garters from the sodden hose, then rolled them down and got them off. It wasn't an easy job; nylons were hard enough to handle without being permeated by water and oil!
He decided to leave the garter belt on. Maybe it would tighten up as it dried, he mused. That was a deliciously wicked, happy thought!
She winced and groaned, but remained otherwise silent while he vigorously rubbed her back dry-using the blue jeans he'd taken from her closet. When her back was dry, he used the rough denim on her shoulders and upper arms. Then, laying the jeans temporarily aside, he took off her shower cap and had her shake her head a few times, so that her unequivocally beautiful wealth of rippling black hair fluffed out over her shoulders and down her long back.
Drying the backs of her long sturdy legs with that same rough-fabric "towel," he made her tense, and tremble, and bite back moans of discomfort as the demin rubbed vigorously over her. Then he dried her front, and her eyes rolled up in pain when he came up her thighs and belly and began using the jeans to dry her tits. The big jutting balls of muscle and tissue jumped and jiggled while he gave them his enthusiastic attention, one hand up each leg of the denim pants he toweled them with.
When she was nicely dry, he chuckled.
"Say, that demin really rubs a fine glow into all that skin of yours, Andrea! Beautiful! You shouldn't ever use soft chicken-shit terry towels again!"
Forced to stand there in utter subjugation and slavish helplessness with her hands cuffed in front of her while he first abraded her skin and now demeaned her with his light words, she maintained her silence. And she shed no tears.
"Now sit down here, dear, and go potty."
She twitched her head around to stare at him. For a moment her eyes entreated, then they blazed. "No," she said, shaking her head so that her hair spun in a raven caress over her shoulders. "No!"
He showed her the riding crop that she herself had used on her juvenile male victims. "Sit ... down" he told her again, sternly but without raising his voice.
She looked fearfully at the short stiff whip. Tucking her lower lip in, she glanced at his eyes. They were implacable, staring steadily.
Andrea half turned and sat her naked self down on the open toilet.
"Now," he told her, standing to one side, "let's hear the golden stream. Piss, little girl."
"I-oh good lord, you must know I can't! Not with you standing here! Please ... please leave, and....
"You will piss or your thighs will be whipped," he told her in a matter-of-fact voice.
She clenched her teeth, half raised her shackled wrists. He saw her stiffen, strain. "I ... can't!"
He brought the crop rushing down across the rounded upper surfaces of the seated woman's thighs. The stinging, burning blow landed with a terrible accuracy and force, and she winced and trembled.
He waited, counting slowly to ten in his head, and struck again, just beside the red stripe that barred her left thigh. The lash jumped the center crack where her legs were pressed together, and resumed its red course across the other thigh.
"Uh!" she gasped, jerking her head up and twisting her features in pain. She started an outcry that broke off in a gasp of shocked pain.
Again he counted, and again he struck.
"Unnnnghhh! Oh god-that hurts! Please-don't hit me there again-"
"It is nice to hear you beg and say please, Andrea.
But-I've started, now. I can't stop until you obey me!" Again he counted silently, and again he brought the whip sharply down onto her thighs.
This time she jerked and screwed up her eyes tightly. He saw a tear come squirting out from beneath her long lashes. Her hands came up and she started to rise. Mase shoved her easily back onto the toilet, counting silently.
Her eyes snapped wide and her body lurched from the fiery caress of the barely yielding crop across her thighs. The thin red lines on the flesh had broadened. The five of them began to take on the aspect of a single glowing red stripe, its hue a little deeper here and there-especially on the far side of her right thigh, where the whip's tip had snapped down.
He walked around to the other side of her, counting silently. And he struck. And counted, and struck. Her thighs, between pussy and knees, were turning crimson and agonized. With each lash the flesh jerked, shuddered, and vibrated. She did not scream, but moaned deeply and shivered, trying to hold back the sobs that sent tears in glistening trails down her cheeks.
"I ... beg you," she said in a strained whisper, after the ninth blow had fallen. "Leave off-I ... tense all up when you strike, and you aren't giving me time ... I'm trying, I swear it, I'm trying!"
"All right," he said, not too happy with the appearance of her thighs anyhow. The skin looked ready, in a couple of places, to pop at any moment and wash the pained flesh with blood.
While he stood over her, she strained, straightened, bent, and-then shivered. He heard the beginning of the spray, jerkily. Then it was a full-fledged flow, as the whipped, thoroughly humiliated woman coaxed her bladder to let go and empty itself.
The flow slowed to a trickle, then to drips. At last there was silence, except for her sob-choked breathing.
"Good girl," he said. "Now get up and let's wipe your pussy."
She did, avoiding his eyes-and winced and groaned, shuddering, for he used a towel-to dry her. Standing beside her, he passed the folded towel between her thighs, and whipped it back and forth in a sawing motion that abraded the tender, full lips of her shrinking cunt.
She was shivering in spasms and breathing very hard when he at last left off the painful activity. "Turn, bend, and place your hands on the toilet," he told her, opening the medicine cabinet door. "Keep your legs straight, and get them apart."
She obeyed, slowly and fearfully. With the lotion from her own medicine cabinet, he thoroughly greased the deep valley between her large buttocks. With her thus greased it was a simple matter for him to slip his middle finger into the coiled, amber-pink little cavity of her anus.
Her moan was an indrawn one, a deep inhalation. Tightening up the muscles in his arm, he pushed. She shuddered as he thrust every inch of his rigid finger deep into the tight hot hole of her bowels.
He held it there a long while, noting the hollowing of her back while he wiggled his finger around inside her snugging asshole. He moved it around and around, feeling the soft inner walls that slipped pulpily, softly, over his fingertip.
At last he eased it out of her, and watched her clamp her rearcheeks firmly together in automatic reaction once his impaling finger had quit her rectum. ., She flinched and made a squeaky noise when she felt the cold and totally unyielding surface of the regular size D flashlight battery. It slipped in easily, too, her anus both greased and opened, coaxed into relaxation by his finger. Only an inch and a quarter in diameter and just over two inches long, the battery was smaller bv far in every dimension than his cock, which she had already accommodated in this same humid little burrow. But-the battery weighed three ounces, and he knew that because its size concentrated that weight in such a small area, the little yellow-and-blue cylinder would feel as if it weighed a pound, there in the bent woman's asshole.
"Uh," she gasped. When he told her to straighten, and she had done so, she grunted again, "Uh," feeling the tug of that heavy plug in her anus. It would not emerge naturally, he knew; he had pushed it in out of sight. It might hurt coming out, but ... that wasn't anything Mase would worry about.
She stood before him, and he lifted his hands to the strong strut and splendid circumferences of her breasts. With her wrists shackled together at her crotch, her arms pressed her tits together, as if she were urging them on him.
His no-nonsense hands closed over the cream-textured globes and cupped them, jiggling both tits to and fro and slightly, up and down with his fingers sinking deeply into the pliant, plentiful marshmallow flesh.
Her mouth opened and a long quivery sigh filtered out. Her lashes quivered as they came down to shield her eyes. With a teasing little grin, he seized one precious carmine nipple and turned his fingers and thumb in a slow, agonizing tweak. His other hand performed a similarly discomfiting operation on the other nipple. She groaned and lifted her head, then tilted it back.
Her nipples swiftly became hard as rosebuds of aroused sensuality that speared out from her rosy aureoles.
Then he used the same clamps she and her tormenting daughters had used on his son's nipples.
Like roach clips, the devices were small in the jaws, designed more for Hal's small male nipples than for Andrea's, which were thickly erect and warmly pulsing.
She groaned, grunted, jerked as he managed to slip one around her left nipple. Her head came down and her eyes snapped open. She stared at what he was doing. She was holding her breath. He knew he was hurting her. Tiny whimpering noises came from her, even though she tried to hold them back or disguise them.
The clamps had strong springs controlling their jaws, and a little row of teeth, like those of pliers. The pressure of his fingers held the jaws at their widest. Slowly, he relaxed that pressure, and the very end of her nipple began to bulge and turn ever darker as the tiny metal jaws clamped on its stalk.
When he took his hand away, her nipple was. clamped and there was no doubt about the thing's coming off; it would have to be squeezed open and drawn off. She was panting now, and shivering. Her hands moved restlessly, held together at her loins by the leather cuffs.
With the same slowness, letting the pressure mount steadily so that she had opportunity to grow accustomed to it, he made a metal-held .prisoner of the big woman's other thrusting tit-tip.
Moaning, she quivered and breathed in short panting gasps. Her belly trembled and quaked visibly. Then a long, tremulous moan came from her and he saw her go weak.
Mase was astonished. "My god! You-" He broke off. Firming his voice he said, "Tell me what happened."
"Nuh-no-o-o," she protested, half pleading, with perspiration glistening on her breasts and trickling down from her armpits.
He reached up and around, and clamped his fingers in the thick hair at her nape. Her head was forced rigidly erect, and again she opened her dark eyes to stare into his gray-blue ones.
"I already know," he said. "You tell me."
"I-" Her lip and chin quivered; having to say it, to admit it, was terribly demeaning and humiliating.
"I-came...."
"Be damned," he breathed. Just ... how strong ... how much of a tiger was this late husband of hers ... and what sort of games did they play? Could she have been doing to the boys the same things her man-the man she loved so fiercely-did to her?
"Do they hurt, Andrea?"
Her voice was very small, strained: "Ye-es-s-s-s
"They'll hurt some more when I take them off, don't forget, with the blood rushing back into them. If I take them off."
She panted hard for a couple of breaths, and again shuddered. Her tongue whipped out to moisten her lips.
"That's just what I want now," he told her. "That tongue, that nice soft moist tongue of yours! Sit down."
At once, she resumed her seat on the open toilet. She jumped a little when he reached past her and flushed it, knowing cold water was splashing her loins.
His penis was long, partially thickened, a little darker than "normal." He stepped up close to her. The long shank of his sexuality was just on a level with her face, slightly below her mouth, in its non-erect dangle.
"Get that dick up," he told her.
The seated woman with the leather cuffs and the nipple-clamps surprised him by making no objection, or even hesitation. Hunching her shoulders to lower her head, she licked his dangling cock, up and down, and up and down and around.
Each touch of that warm tongue set off a new jolt of pleasure in him. His organ both thickened and began to change its angle to his groin. Even before it was fully up under the delightful licking of her pink sliver of tongue, his whole organism was assaulted by a desperate, tormenting yearning to encase his cock in her face until it gagged her.
Her shackled hands came up under his scrotum, lifting it. She let his prick slip into her mouth. There she teased and caressed it with her sliding, lapping, larruping tongue, pressed it up against the roof of her mouth and then over on either side of her tongue, against her cheeks, so that it made them bulge around the mushrooming head, tucked her lips over her teeth and nibbled it, moved her head so as to let it slide back and forth between her lips, an inch or two in each direction.
His growing cock hardened and lengthened in her mouth until she could handle it all in the warm, saliva-wet vault.
Her face ran up and down the big thick stalk, which spread her lips almost painfully wide. He was moving too, helplessly lurching and hunching. His big pouch swung to slap her chin, again and again, drumming her face with turkey-egg testicles.
Slightly leaning forward as she sat on the toilet, she began swallowing, again and again, to titillate his sweet sex-stalk in the sensual nook of her mouth.
The blissfully pleased man pressed in closer. He felt her hot and squirming tongue over the swollen heat of his prick, and he bit back a groan. Good god, but it felt so good-and did she ever go after it! She was sending fire all through the big horn her lips caressed and engulfed.
He quivered, in an intense erotic pleasure, as she steadily sucked his ever-lengthening peter into the warm cavity of her face. It was straining, but beautiful, absolutely beautiful, wrapped around his sexual flesh! And the sensation-her mouth and tongue doting over his dick, sucking it, licking it, loving it, while he pressed in and his thighs felt the bounce and jiggle of her bosom's matched, fattened globes! This was a lot better than good; the word "good" just wasn't enough.
He didn't let her know how good it was. First making his cock flex and jump inside her face, he stepped back. The long, broad, spit-slimy length oozed obscenely out of her mouth.
"Be still," he said, bending. He closed finger and thumb around the "handle" of the clamp on her right breast and began to press.
She could not be still. She moaned and made squeaky sounds, panted and bit into her lower lip as he forced open the jaws of the nipple-clamp and needly pain shot into her breast as circulation returned to its deeply red crest.
The clamp came free, and she sighed out a long relieved breath. Then she sucked air in quickly again, for he had turned his attentions to the clip on her other nipple. The process was repeated, and she moaned softly as long shivers went through her flesh.
Distinctly, he heard a tiny splashing sound.
His eyes narrowed. He blinked. Mase knew what he had heard: a long droplet of her own arousal fluid, oozing out of her pussy and splashing into the water in the bowl of the toilet!
Her breasts were shaped like footballs, not quite as big. They were strong, and swelled in the middle, tapering back to the bases and greatly out to pointed, fiercely red tips. He thought they were big enough for what he wanted to do, and he swiftly proved it. Mase tugged nooses into the pre-looped cords with which she and her offspring had bound the boys. Passing a slip-noose over each of her tits, he snugged the loops in, back at the bases of those firm thrusts. Then he pulled the ropes upward.
Obediently, her tits rose. They became shinier, sleeker, the skin tauntening as the cords snugged in.
"Get your mouth open," Mase said.
She obeyed and was swiftly face-stuffed with tumescently hard cock. Then, while he used the cords like a puppeteer, making her tits dance and execute interesting little gyrations in the air, he stood before her and swung his hips back and forth, fucking her face.
He stifled a groan at the almost overwhelming sensation, his pulsing staff savoring the tingling warmth of her enveloping mouth. His hips moved in short, jerky little spasms that made his tool squish between her helplessly receiving lips.
He bounced her breasts and fucked her face for several minutes, as long as he could stand it. When the pressure began to build in his balls, he eased up, then withdrew his flushed, twitching, wet cock from her face.
Stepping back, he tugged at the marionette cords. "Up," he said. "Come along."
Docilely, naked but for the garter belt and the cuffs on her wrists, she followed him through the doorway and into her bedroom. He ordered, and she obeyed: she walked to the bed and stood against its foot. The helplessly bound woman squealed and flailed when he shoved her onto the bed atop the blue velour spread.
Using the riding crop that he knew would hurt like fire and would leave bruises that wouldn't be quite gone this time next week, he calmly and methodically whipped her big white-cheeked ass.
She moaned and groaned, whimpered and gasped, writhed and twisted. Her body jerked and her buttocks jiggled in an agony of suffering. Having decided to give her an even dozen, no matter what, he ignored the piteous whimpering and writhings of her pain-afflicted form.
He could not be as merciless as he had intended. Her entire ass was viciously darkened and welted when he brought the twelfth lash rushing down, and there were ugly marks on her hips, too, where the whip's tip had struck hard. Hurling it from him, he moved on quiet, bare feet into the bathroom, to return swiftly with the lotion.
She lay, softly sighing, now and again emitting a little pained groan, while he spent long minutes rubbing the lotion all over the broad, sexily juddering ovals of foam rubber that formed her luscious backside.
On his knees, he moved up beside her upper body.
"Roll over," he told her, and the bound woman did. She winced at the contact of her greased but still painful ass against the bedspread. As she gazed up at him, tears stained her cheeks and made her long lashes glisteningly wet. Her great dark eyes were like melting chocolate now, and she continued to stare into his face while he separated the cuffs that had so long held her wrists together.
She was free, unfettered.
"I want you to open your legs, and I want your hands on me," he told her. "I'm going to fuck you now, like a lover, lying on you between your legs."
Her eyelashes came down slowly in a long blink. Her head, its back pressed against the bed, moved only a little with her nod. Big firm thighs moved apart as he moved down to get between them, and she opened her eyes to gaze again into his face while he, between her well-parted thighs now, maneuvered his swollen, desperately needy cock until its big rounded head was against the lips of her cunt.
In a swift movement, he humped it in and toppled forward onto her.
"Ughhhhh-arg-g-gGHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The vengeful man began fucking swiftly in and out of her immediately, feeling through the thin membrane separating cunt from ass the hard presence of the battery he'd stuffed into her anus.
An atavistic animal fury swept through him and lit his avid eyes. He saw the wideness of hers, the glow in them, and he felt her hands on him and the chill roughness of the leather cuffs against his skin.
Adrenalin was a palpable force, pumping through his bloodstream in pounding sluices that contributed to his excitement and his energy. He drove in so deeply that the tangled jungle of his thickly growing pubic hair dug into her pulpy labial flaps in a magnificently salacious, soul-satisfying union of their pelvises. Mucousy juices matted their linked crotch fleece.
She moaned aloud, feeling it, feeling that supernally big male thing throbbing hotly between her splayed legs and rooting blindly and urgently up her belly. Its swollen breadth scraped along the sensitive walls of her viscous, clasping tunnel as he held her body up against his, her ass clear off the bed and squirming in his grip.
He flailed her twitching form with his, pricking her pussy, pummeling her pelvis.
"MOVE," he commanded, although she already was.
The softly curved turrets of her tits jumped up and down and rippled liquidly, tight-strained by the surrounding cords as she thrust herself violently up and down. Her hips were jerking too, spiraling her burning cunt around on his deep-driving cock.
Her vaginal tunnel swelled and spread to a new size and shape as he sent his sex-staff throbbing long and deep, slick with her internal juices, into her wet pussy.
The queen-sized body so alive beneath his was sexily slick with the bath oil. He felt it, and he smelled it, along with the rising odors of perspiration and cunt and cock; the aroma of sexuality. The slapping of his body onto hers was a constant agitation in his ears, as were the murmuring and grunting sounds she constantly emitted. His skin reported nice sensations as her hands roamed his back low down to its base, the fingertips sliding onto the tightening mounds of his buttocks.
The garter belt was hot beneath his abdomen. He felt the clips on its loose-dangling straps. Oh god oh jesus, he thought desperately. I love this, she's the best damned woman, the best body, the best fuck I've known in years and years!
"Fuck," he grunted aloud. "Fuck you, baby. Fuck you, big woman. Fuck you, fuck you-and fuck me back!"
He drew her beautiful naked body to him and fucked her hard and deep, urging his cock deep and using it like a ramrod. The hard punches of the wildly rooting man seemed almost to be trying to tamp her cervix up into her womb with the big rubbery head of his hard-on.
Tension grew in her abdomen until she was squirming as if frantically beneath him.
Thrusting and withdrawing in great jarring strokes, he drove her up and up. She hunched her pelvis to intensify the sensation she felt just beneath her cock-filled pussy-his balls were thumping, drumming against her. He could hear his big charging dick slurp every time it ran in and out of the pliable mouth of her cunt.
"You may dig hurting boys, but when a man fucks you, you're like a swamp inside, luv," he told her, loving that swampy sensation all around his belly-buried meat.
"Yuh-unnnnngghhhhhhhhh," she groaned, shuddering massively. Then she wailed. Violent tremors shook the keening woman as she was engulfed in coruscating waves of the highest pleasure.
That sudden, deep orgasm so surprised and delighted him that it provided the final spark that touched off his own explosion.
A climaxing groan gurgled in his throat and the viscous syrup of his balls came boiling forth in a sexual torrent. His fiery penis was spurting like a machine gun into her liquid gap, firing molten streams up into her, filling her with a river of steaming semen.
He sank down upon her and lay there atop her, a woman closer to his height than most women, while his semen oozed out of her pussy and dribbled warmly down into the crack of her ass. Her arms remained around him; her hands moved very slowly about on his hot buttocks. He smiled. He'd come in her no less than three times.
At last he heaved himself up on his arms, stared down into her face for a long minute. Then he swung off her, and the bed, and dressed quickly. She watched, lying in the same open-legged position of well-fucked abandon on the bed-on the blue velour spread that would have to come off and go straight to the cleaners.
Dressed, he started for the door without a word.
"W-wait-"
He looked questioningly back at the naked woman on the bed. Her large tits flopped and jiggled as she came up onto one forearm. "What-what about this ... this thing in my , .. back?"
"Oh. Flashlight battery. It'll come out."
She stared. At last she asked, "Aren't-aren't you going to ... to take it out?"
"Nope," he said, in the same casual tone. "That's your problem. Oh-if you aren't on the pill or something, you'd better pop into the bathroom pretty fast, to keep from having another ... problem."
He left her. His brain was working stormily, and he was silent and sad-seeming as he collected, his son and daughter and drove home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mase Ridgeway did not go straight home and flop happily in bed with his daughter and son.
He did talk with them Monday night. He advised them that he and Pam would not be getting it on together again. Hal and Pam sat staring in silence. Their father shrugged and showed them a rueful smile.
"Call me older generation, call me uptight. It doesn't matter. But I know that I can't handle it ... balling with my daughter. So I'm not going to."
At last Pam nodded, her features brightening. "I understand, Dad. I promise not to act sexy around you-or try not to, I mean." Her dimples flashed in a smile she tried to curb. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. You're a real-"
Mase waved a hand. "Never mind, Pam. Thanks."
After another silence, Hal spoke. "Uh, Dad. I'm almost afraid to ask, but I don't dare not. What ... what about us? Pam and me, I mean."
Mase leaned back with a sigh. "I'm damned if I know what to say. I am over the knee jerk reaction that sent you...." He waved a hand and looked uncomfortable.
"Right," Hal said, nodding. "OK. We don't have to talk about that. And stop feeling bad about it, Dad. You're the hero who rescued us-and we sure gave those three bitches more than a taste of their own!"
"I just wish one of 'em had been male," Pam muttered darkly.
"Anyhow," Mase said. "That reaction on my part is over and done with. And Pam's protected now; she won't make a kid with you or anyone else. It still seems wrong. Incest' is a loaded word, a boogeyman scare-word. It's been around for thousands and thousands of years-such an ancient prohibition sort of tends to make it look as if the desire is normal, doesn't it? I admit that whatever's wrong with it isn't apparent on the surface. Not, I mean, on any logical basis. In other words, with no possibility of conception ... why not?"
"Just ... taboo," Hal said.
Pam nodded. " 'Morality!'"
"Yeah," their father said. "But that's based mighty heavily on the old-folks stuff that 'immoral' is a word having to do with sex and nothing else, and that sex is wicked and evil except between married people-"
"People with a state-approved license to screw," Pam put in...." and a lot of married people are damned uptight about it!"
"Which they wouldn't be," Pam was swift to point out, "if they'd had a healthier attitude before marriage. Meaning ... that they were taught that sex is wicked and has to have fences around it."
"Seems to me a marriage license is-a violation of Church and State," Hal said thoughtfully.
Mase gazed at them. "You two amaze me with your intelligence. A nice argument, Pam. A good observation, Hal. I guess I should be proud-I didn't raise any uptight dummies." He smiled. "You're both easier-going-meaning more mentally healthy-about sex and sexuality than I am!"
Both of them smiled in pleasure. "I'll join the debate team," Pam said. "Resolved: That screwing shouldn't have fences around it."
They all laughed. Then Mase said, "What does bother me is if one of us slips, and other people find out that you two are ... lovers."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Hal said. "We're not lovers-are we, Pam?"
"Of course not. We just fuck together." Then she looked a little nervous about having said the word.
"OK. If others found out that you two fuck together, then," Mase went on, bringing a relieved sigh from his daughter. "Sure, we don't give a damn what other people think. Trouble is, bigotry is powerful, and sex itself is in the taboo area, let alone incest. Is it fascinating because it's taboo, or taboo because it's fascinating? As for us ... we could get attacked, harrassed by phone calls, hounded out of school-and even my job." He spread his hands. "Like it or not, it's true. Some people would think it was terrible that you two were getting it on with anybody! But everybody thinks incest is monstrous! They may not know why, they may not be able to give anything near a logical reason, but ... that doesn't matter, to them."
"Like that judge that once said some book-or movie, or whatever it was-was obscene because it was obscene!" Pam said.
"Uh-huh. Incest is just 'bad.' Why? Because it is!"
Hal sighed. "Oh boy. And it's so convenient," he said, nearly breaking his father up. "Damn! Give me Sabra or Vanessa, boy, and ... instant cure for incest!"
Mase looked mildly shocked, and Pam tried to. But she couldn't; she giggled. "See, Dad. That's where we are. We're not in love or anything. It's not like we were hung up on each other. I told you, I need. And now that Hal has screwed, he needs, too. What we need isn't necessarily each other-just somebody to fuck on."
"Jesus," Mason Ridgeway groaned.
By the following evening though, he'd, had a bright idea. Pam and Hal were delighted with it. It was simple: they'd have a birthday party for Hal. Kids their age. With rules, because of other parents: no alcohol, no grass. The three of them worked on the guest list as a team.
Christ, Mase thought later as he slid into bed, I've been sitting there with my horny kids, calmly helping them put together a list of potential fuck-mates for themselves.
But ... that wasn't all Mase was thinking about.
He hadn't been worth a shit at work these past two days. His mind wouldn't stay where it was supposed to. Neither would his penis; his thoughts kept hardening the damned thing up. And no, it wasn't Pam he was thinking about.
On Wednesday he broke down and called Dolly Hughes. He hadn't called since their squabble, but sure, she told him, lunch sounded great. And later, over that lunch, she let him know she was still available. (She was also still a nervous chatterbox he couldn't stand for long. He thought of Pam's phrase: just somebody to fuck on ... ) Sure, Dolly would help him chaperone the kids' party.
That night Pam and Hal called the names on their guest list. They phoned twenty-nine people, and all but three said they could come. They spent the rest of the week planning and preparing, while Mase tried hard to earn his salary. He thanked heaven that his vacation was coming up ... and he cursed it, too. What the hell was he going to do with himself?
The party went well. He and Dolly held it down, without being bossy and old. Mase made certain Dolly didn't realize that Pam and Perry Goldman vanished for nearly an hour. Feeling like some sort of calculating monster, Mase caught himself hoping that Nat Goldman's good-looking kid would start taking Pam out-and that the two of them would find some place to ball.
He didn't even know until next day that Hal had made out, too. The girl was seventeen, several months older than Pam. And she'd been really happy and impressed: she called Hal twice the next day, Sunday.
On Monday Mase got the mind-blowing phone call at the office.
It was Vanessa Haider. He agreed to meet her, for lunch. And he was worth very little indeed, the rest of the morning.
The old line came into his head the moment he walked into the Toqueville and saw her: I hardly recognize you with your clothes on! But he didn't say it, only nodding in greeting to the tall and more than pretty redhead of nineteen. Her figure refused to be curbed even by the jacket of the scarlet heather-weave suit she wore. The skirt was fully knee-length, and even her throat was decorously covered by a puffy scarf of white satin. Instead of the line that leaped into his brain, he heard himself blurting another he'd rather not have said:
"I'd ... forgotten how beautiful you are, Vanessa."
She blinked. "I'm surprised, Mister Ridgeway. I hadn't expected a compliment, from you."
"It wasn't a compliment, Vanessa. Just a statement of fact."
The girl, who had said she needed "very badly" to talk with him, was soon sitting across a table from him. Telling him that this meeting was secret, she begged him to promise not to tell her mother. He looked at her, and he met her eyes levelly.
"Vanessa, I'm not going to promise you a damned thing. If you've got something you want to tell me, do. if it has to have strings attached-keep it to yourself." He held her surprised eyes a moment longer, then returned his attention to his food.
The young woman sat stiff and silent for a time. At last, with an air of decision, she pushed her plate forward and sat back.
"All right, Mason Ridgeway. I can understand your contempt. Maybe this will earn me some more. But ... I have to tell you. We haven't been very happy at my house, for the past week."
He made her think he had to work to keep from laughing. He said nothing.
She heaved a sigh. "I'm nearly twenty, and I know that Hal is just fifteen." She looked down at her hands, one of which was fiddling with a ring on the other. "But ... either Hal or you can have me, any time you want me, and any way you want me."
Once she'd made that astounding statement, Vanessa looked up at his face again. This time the shocked surprise was in Mase's eyes. After a long while, he nodded, and finished his coffee. Then, bidding her wait, he went to make a phone call.
When he returned, he said, "That's one hell of a broad statement, Vanessa. Not to mention hard to believe."
"It's ... easy to test, Mister Ridgeway."
"Yes it is."
And it was. In less than twenty minutes, they had paid their checks and were in his private office. Coolly and imperiously, with his butt leaning against the edge of the desk, he opened his pants and told the girl to get down and fill her mouth with it.
Still fully clothed in the scarlet suit, the tall redhead hitched up her skirt and went to her knees. Her fingers were cool when they gripped his hot, already stiffening prick. She drew it to her until her head was very close to the thickly rounded head. She sucked it into her face sweetly, delicately, and extremely sexily.
His penis was a raging hard erection in seconds. Like a long red tube connecting their bodies, it vanished into the pink pit of her mouth. The standing man held back his groan. He watched the way the girl's distended lips slipped up and down his cock, flaring and folding in as she tried to swallow him, then extending along the big staff when she eased her head back and it withdrew.
The sultry girl's clever, tantalizing tongue wiggled while her lips closed slowly, very gently, around just the smooth-skinned knob of his fully erect, ripely thick penis.
Soaring desire quivered in his loins as she turned her mouth into a lurid siphon that drew leechingly at his cock.
He reached out and slipped his fingers into her crimson hair. She did not tense or attempt to draw away. He shoved her mouth full of his meat. The big stalk gorged deep inside her face and pressured down into the tight wet tube of her throat.
Submissively the kneeling redhead accepted its deep throat-piercing. Her mouth was like a tourniquet around him, while her hands slipped in to cuddle and cradle his dangling sac of balls. She knew he was watching. Lust-glazed eyes full of triumph and male pleasure stared down at her mouth clasped so hungrily and gratefully, so submissively around the deep-probing horn he shoved at her.
The girl sucked up a deep breath, then took him all the way down her throat, actually holding the end of his prick there until she had to breathe. She managed not to gag, but had to catch her breath a moment before going hungrily after him again.
A surging tidal wave of lust burst over him, tightened his balls, made his belly quiver even as it threatened to fog his brain.
"That's enough," he said, barely able to keep from gasping.
She looked surprised but rose when he told her to-and backed to the paneled wall as he ordered.
Her eyes dropped to his luridly inflamed, hard-pounding cock as she obeyed his command to open her jacket-she wore only a soft black brassiere under it-and get her skirt up around her hips. She wore lace-edged little black panties, and she pushed them down hurriedly when he told her to, while he walked toward her.
Staring into the tall girl's eyes, he took his cock in his hand and guided it into the partially shaven lips of her cunt. Then, with a swift violent lurch forward and up, he jammed the broad head of his inflexible hard-on up into her pussy.
"Nnim-h-h-hhnnnnnnn!" she groaned out, shivering, and her eyes rolled loosely.
Yet he was surprised, for he went in all the way, into sublimely snug, richly soft and fervidly hot vaginal folds that were wet with arousal, and took his entire horny length.
He shoved his hands up her sides, under the loose-hanging coat. Carelessly brushing the outer curves of her brassiered breasts, he dug his thumbs into her humid, damp armpits. Again she groaned. Again he surged hard, slamming the tall girl's ass back against the unyielding wood panels of the wall behind her.
He drew back and rammed it up into her again, letting her have it hard and deep. There was a thump as her buttocks banged into the wall and tried to flatten out. Her eyes bulged and she groaned again, as if he'd stabbed her. He had, with a needful erection that was like a blade of hot steel.
His fingers grasped her upper arms, keeping her helpless, while his thumbs drove brutally into the soft wet flesh of her armpits. And he drove with his legs, from the toes, tightening his buttocks and slamming cock up her until his zipper abraded the splayed, silky-soft lips of her syrupy cunt.
Her back, the superbly rounded hills of her bounteous young buttocks, were plastered and squashed against the wall behind her. Her legs went all weak and trembly. The girl's mouth dropped open as he gave it to her and she began to shake violently.
The breadth of his surging, upstabbing cock held her elastic labia apart to be raked by his zipper, and exerted a passion-stirring pressure on the lovebud set between their top. As he drove and shoved and ground, their warm bellies slapped together in a constant, exciting rhythm. But his was clothed-and it left the imprint of belt buckle and shirt buttons on.
The violently screwing man swung his powerful hips to slap the meaty knob of his staff against every snugging membrane of the sucking snatch he hammered into. Her head thumped the wall and rolled loosely back and forth. Her mouth hung weakly open and her eyes looked like sightless spheres of glass.
Knowing she was close to coming, he dropped his right hand and jammed it between them. She groaned and shuddered when he forced a finger into her pussy along with his dick, just beneath it. A few more hard in-and-out surges that way, with his own finger exerting a powerful pressure against the sperm-tube running up his cock's broad undersurface-and he came.
She groaned while he hunched hard, deliberately crushing her between driving, grinding body and the wall-and filled her up with hard spurts of warm sticky come.
Though he was weak in the knees, he backed out of her and stepped away as swiftly as he was able. He headed for the desk, where he kept a box of tissues.
"Get your pants up, tight," he told the moaning, sagging girl. "Keep your hands away from your pussy. That phone call I made at the restaurant was to my home, Vanessa." He glanced at his watch. "Hal will be expecting you within the next fifteen minutes. Take your jacket off as soon as you walk in the door, tell him you're full of my semen, and let him tell you what to do with it. Maybe hell want to leave it there and fuck your face or your ass."
Wordlessly, her eyes soft and stricken, the girl he had left so torturously close to orgasm snugged her panties up over her come-oozing vulva, and let her skirt drop. Then she began buttoning her jacket.
Mase sat down behind his desk and picked up some papers. He didn't look up when Vanessa Ridgeway left his office. Some ten minutes later, the receptionist outside his door was amazed to hear him suddenly burst into laughter.
When Mase returned home that evening, it was to find a weary Hal capable of nothing but rest. Vanessa had arrived. Vanessa had obeyed. Vanessa had sucked, bent for the belt he used on her, fed her own tits into Hal's mouth to be chewed, tucked his prick into herself, and later she had sucked the residue of that hard fuck from his cock. She had obeyed his order to get down on her knees and suck and tongue a surprised and then ecstatic Pam. After she'd brought Hal's blond sister off several times, Vanessa had wheeled around on her knees to accept his dick in her mouth. It shortly sprayed her throat, after which she mouthed it to hardness again-with Pam squatting behind her pushing the greased handle of a hairbrush in and out of her asshole-and then Vanessa had again gotten her cunt full of youthful cock, and then come. Hal went to bed early.
Dolly Hughes telephoned, and after fencing around for a few minutes, demanded to know what the hell Mase was doing for that horn of his these days. He had to laugh. Dolly hung up mad. Mase sat and laughed, and the phone rang again, and he picked it up. It was for Pam; he gave it to her. He was soon happy to know that she had a Saturday night date with Perry Goldman.
"We'll fuck, Dad."
"I know, baby. Be careful," he said, and went to bed, alone, happy, and elated. He had a hell of a time getting to sleep, he and his brain that was a maelstrom of swirling thought.
He continued to be worth little at work, strangely, though he'd expected the thoroughly elating experience in getting his physical and mental rocks off with Vanessa would set him at rest. The week slipped along toward its end, and his mental state remained chaotic.
Thursday night Hal told his father Vanessa Haider had called that afternoon. She had wanted the boy to come out....
That was a frightening thought. "God, absolutely not!" Mase blurted.
Hal nodded with a grim smile. "Don't worry! But-Dad. She said she'd get a room at that big airport Holiday Inn Saturday Night ... and she'd be waiting for me. She also said ... she'd be perfectly happy if we both came."
"God," Mase said, shaking his head, "this is wild! I just don't-what the hell's with that girl? She-"
"Never met a man before," Hal said, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated way and then breaking up to ruin it.
"Maybe," Mase said, perfectly seriously. "You understand that I still don't trust them, any of them. Maybe I'm silly, paranoid-but I wouldn't go out there if Sabra and Vanessa and Andrea called-and offered money! I'd think ... that it might be a trap."
"I know," his son said. "Don't think I haven't thought of that. I admit to being a little nervous when she came over the other day-she's a big broad!"
Father and son chuckled. And said nothing more about it.
This Sunday, Mase thought, far more than once that week, will make exactly two weeks since ... since we were out there. God damn it-why can't I get it the fuck out of my damned mind!
He'd have been much happier had he known that someone else couldn't get that Sunday afternoon and night out of her mind-someone aside from Vanessa. She called Saturday afternoon while Mase was watching a locally televised baseball game, and she spoke very softly.
"This is Andrea Haider."
Mase sat down as if someone had slugged him in the backs of the knees. Automatically, his hand went after a cigarette.
"Mase-Mister Ridgeway?"
"I heard you, Mrs. Haider," he said, remembering that he'd called her both "Andrea" and "Andy" on That Day.
After several seconds of. silence, she said, "This ... this is the hardest phone call I've ever made in my life."
He lit a cigarette. "Would you believe," he said, speaking as quietly as she, "that I don't feel motivated to try to make it easier?"
"Yes," she said, with a long aspiration of breath. "I understand that. I believe you. I ... I beg you to believe me." Another long pause, then, "I need you, Mason."
He sat gazing at the wall, blinking. He took a long drag on the cigarette, twisted his hips, and rearranged his damned lousy rotten treacherous cock in his fly. He said, "I heard you. And-it's hard to believe."
"I was ... afraid you'd say that," her soft, very subdued voice murmured in his ear. "Does it help if I tell you I want very much for you to come out here tonight?"
His shorts and pants grew far too tight. He pulled on the cigarette as if it were a teat and he a starving kid. "I don't know. But I'll tell you this, Andrea. I am sure as hell not going to do it."
After a long silence, she said, "I-I have to ask Please tell me. Is it because you have other plans, or ... that you aren't at all interested in coming, or ... won't?"
He answered truthfully: "Won't. Oh, I have an interest in you, Andrea. You know what it is-"
"The same I have in you," she said, and he had to be silent, because that was too much. The maelstrom was reborn in his brain. He closed his eyes in a long blink-and opened them hurriedly, for he was seeing pictures behind his eyelids, and they were far too exciting to dwell upon.
"In that case, Andrea, the solution is simple. I'll tell you frankly that I'm not about to come out there, because I'd be too nervous-I'll be damned if I can be sure I can trust you."
The sound he heard from the telephone might have been a gasp, or she might have choked on something, or it might have been a curbed sob.
An even longer time passed before she spoke again. "You ... said that the ... solution was simple."
"Of course. You come here tonight. You have my address. I'm not having any other company."
"Oh-I...."
Mase's heart pounded wildly then. He went for broke. His heart was pounding as he said, working hard to keep his voice level, "I'll be expecting you at nine o'clock, Andrea. Nine o'clock. Goodbye." And he put down the telephone.
He went back to watch the ball game. It had been over for twenty minutes when he realized he didn't know who had won.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mase and Hal Ridgeway stopped before the door marked 327, and looked at each other. It was an outside room, in the back of the building, facing the forested land that adjoined the airport and motel property.
Mase nodded, and Hal knocked. A little breeze stirred the trees so that they seemed to whisper, and the youth's blond hair ruffled.
Perry Goldman had picked up Pam at eight o'clock and they had driven off in his father's second car. A few minutes later, Mase had called the Airport Holiday and asked for Miss Vanessa Haider's room number. He was advised that they did not give out such information, but that they would connect him with her room. He had agreed, and a few moments later she had answered.
"What's your room number?"
He heard the little hiss of her breath. "Who-who is-"
"Answer," Mase said.
"Th-ree ... it's three-twenty-seven."
Hoping she had really dolled herself up, he'd said, "Strip to bra and hose and shoes." And he had hung up. Now he and Hal stood before the door of room 327, and it opened. The chain was on. Vanessa's face appeared in the crack, her body invisible behind the door. She closed it. The chain rattled, and the door was opened wide. The room appeared empty; even she was not visible, behind the door.
Mase stepped forward and pressed the door firmly back against a slightly yielding obstruction, while Hal walked through the room with its two beds and dresser-desk and straight chair and two easy chairs. He vanished into the bathroom, returned, and with a grin dropped down to look under both beds. He arose smiling, shaking his head. His father pointed. They had already made their plans; Hal pulled the coat and fancy dress off the rack, opened the suitcase and took out the blouse and pants that were the only clothing in it, amid toilet articles and what looked like a man's Dopp Kit. Hal opened it, made a face, and brought it over.
The case contained two leather cuffs with clips to attach them, three slim pieces of leather of lengths from two to four feet, and a considerable length of neatly folded white cord. Mase took the clothes and one length of leather, and motioned. Hal replaced the kit, closed the suitcase, and returned to his father. He pocketed the room key off the dresser as he passed it.
Mase eased up the pressure of his shoulder and foot against the door. "Turn around backwards and put back both your hands, together," he said. A minute later the proffered wrists had been securely linked by the leather strap, and Mase stepped away from the door as Hal tugged. Vanessa Haider backed out, not even turning her head. She wore a pretty black garter belt supporting tall, fishnet hose that vanished into tall, shining white boots Mase saw were supple plastic. The redhead's only other clothing was the black brassiere. Her naked buttocks trembled a little as she back-walked from behind the door.
Mase smiled, waved a hand in silent salute to his son, and left. He closed the door after him and walked, still grinning, to the steps, which he hurried down with the trotting enthusiasm of a youth.
He'd been nervous about leaving Hal with the big sturdy Vanessa, who might well be strong enough to overpower him. So he and Hal had worked Out their plan as they got ready and then drove to the motel. Everything should be okay now. He felt that Vanessa had probably brought along the bondage accouterments to be used on herself. But if that wasn't the case-she was bound now with her own cuff. She wouldn't be going any place anyhow, without the clothing Mase tossed into the back seat.
With a glance at his watch, he started the engine, lit a cigarette, and headed for home.
He pulled into the curb six doors below his house and on the other side of the old tree-lined street from it. And he waited, lighting another cigarette and trying to breathe deeply to slow down the pounding of his heart. He hadn't even finished the cigarette when the blue Ford came down the street slowly, passed his house, stopped, and backed up. It parked in front, under the big maple.
Wearing a long dark coat, the tall woman got out and leaned across the top of the car as she double-checked the house number, clearly visible with the porch light on. She leaned in, pulled out a small briefcase, and closed the door. She locked it. Then she walked around the car and up the walk to Mason Ridgeway's house.
Not likely she'd lock the car if she had trickery in mind, he thought, but he waited, still not sure he could trust her. She had good reason to be vengeful and vindictive-and overpowering her hadn't been all that easy, down in her basement two weeks ago!
He watched her check her watch, and press the doorbell. Not until then did he start the engine-she looked around-and ease his car forward. He pulled into the driveway until he was parallel to the porch, and Andrea Haider.
"Leave the case," he said as quietly as he could. "Get back in and pull your car into the driveway here, all the way back."
After a moment, she set the briefcase down and hurried back to her car. He backed out and waited while she pulled into his driveway and eased all the way back to the old garage he used only for storage. He parked behind her, pulled out the keys, and locked the car doors.
They came silently face to face beside his car. He held out his hand. "Give me the keys, Andrea."
Without a word, she handed him the ring that contained more keys than merely the one to her ignition. He glanced around. No neighbors seemed to be watching, but he pointed.
"Go around to the back door," he told her. "I'll meet you."
Still in silence, the tall brunette in the long dark coat turned and walked back down the driveway. Mase hurried up onto the porch, picked up the briefcase, and keyed open his door Inside, he switched off the porch light and paused in the living room only long enough to shove the briefcase under the skirted easy chair. Then he walked the short distance back to the kitchen door; it was not a large house, though there were two floors.
He let her in.
"Would you like a drink?"
"If you're going to have one," she said quietly; they were her first words. She made no motion to unbutton or even take off the coat.
Mase pulled the bourbon out of the cabinet, two glasses out of another along with a shot-glass, and nodded unnecessarily at the refrigerator.
"An ounce of bourbon each, and two ice cubes for me. Fill my glass the rest of the way with water.' And he walked into the living room, lit only by the first setting of the bridge lamp, and sat down in the big easy chair that directly faced the TV. The radio was still on, to the all-night FM station.
Mase sat there and listened to the incredible sound of the bitch-dominatrix Andrea Haider mixing them each a drink in his kitchen.
She still wore the coat when she came in to ham him his glass, and he saw a lot of large, well-round ed bare calf and black suede shoes. They looked odd. Rather than the ugly squared-off heels and round toes currently popular, the shoes had pointed toes and old-fashioned high heels, thin.
She was glancing around, waiting for him to ask her to sit down. Moving his feet to its edge, he stabbed a finger at the ottoman. She sat without a word, her big coat-clad rump just touching his left foot. She sat half sideways to him, but with her head his way Her long black hair was down, flowing in waves over her shoulders. The coat was maroon.
He lifted his glass in a silent toasting gesture that she imitated, and they drank.
"Okay Andrea, tell me about it."
She blinked, gazing at him. At last she said, very softly, "I told you. I need you. That's it."
He didn't try to play dumb, but he was determined that she'd say it. "What do you need from me?"
She looked away, touched her lower lip with her tongue, lifted the glass and drank. Then, not quite looking at him, she said in an even softer voice:
"What I've always needed. I am....extremely sensuous. It's been like a curse, for years-ever since Ernest died-my husband. And ... I needed to be possessed, owned. Told." She regarded her coated knees. "Even ... hurt."
Mase knew a great soaring feeling of elation, and joy-and anticipation. But he showed none of it. He gazed at her, and he nodded. "Umm. Tell me about it."
"What ... what more do you want?" Andrea stared at him with an expression both questioning and agonized. Then she said, "I said it that day, to the parents. 'Mase is so dominant,' I told them, 'and ... you must realize how happy I am.'" She paused, looking at him. He kept his face impassive, and she said, "I told you that my husband was worth twenty men, that he ruled himself and his associates-and that he ruled me. And I told you that he was man enough to do it, and that I loved him. I was almost destroyed when he died." She lifted her glass to her face, lowered it without drinking. She stared at the floor. "I've met plenty of men since then. But they weren't ... men. Not my kind of man. I felt just desperate. Wild. Then it was anger, rage against all males-who aren't male enough. I have to have a strong man! I can't help ... testing them."
She swung her head to look at him again. "I am yours. You can have me any time you want me, and any way you want me."
He blinked, pausing with his glass at his lips. "That's ... what Vanessa said."
She nodded. "Yes. She meant it. She was also ... testing you."
Astonished, he sat still for a moment-then leaned forward to take her drink from her. With his shod feet, he shoved her off the ottoman. The big woman tumbled and sprawled to the carpet with a wild flurry of long legs and the Housing skirts of her coat. She stayed there.
"You sent Va-you bitch!" he snapped.
"Yes," she said.
"You said you got mad at all males-so you started that godawful school of yours, and punished them boys, making them cry ... snivel...."
"Yes."
"Get your ass up off the floor and get out of that coat!"
She rose and turned to face him, with her eyes on him, before she unbuttoned the long coat. She peeled it off. Mason Ridgeway stared. She was completely naked.
Andrea was built big, in the shoulders, the heavy football-shaped breasts and broad hips and columnar thighs. The proportions, though, were perfect. If there was any extra flesh on her, it could not have amounted to more than five or eight pounds ... on her five-nine-plus frame.
"Jesus," he whispered. "You ... incredible slut!"
Her voice was soft, her eyes lowered: "Your slut."
He was cruel: "What the hell makes you think I want you?"
She came to him in a rush, and knelt at his feet, enwrapping his legs with her arms. "Oh dear god, want me! Please want me!"
He couldn't remember having felt such joy and elation, such great soaring feelings of manhood, and self, arid raw power. Want her! He'd thought of her day after day, hour after hour, for two solid weeks! She was what he wanted. Vanessa was merely a girl, a surrogate, and even while he'd slammed up into the girl he'd stood against the wall in his office, he'd been thinking about her mother-and doing it to her.
He pushed her hair back from her beseeching face, saw the slim gold rings that joined the smaller ones piercing her ears; the outer circles were large enough to pass a golf ball through. He slipped a finger into each of them, and tugged, until her chin was resting on his knee. Masking her pain, she kept her eyes fixed on his, and they were soft black pools of love and submission.
"I will do to you all the things you did to those boys," Mase told her quietly.
Her chin was pressed so firmly to his legs, his fingers tugging so strongly at her ears, that she could barely move her jaws to speak: "Yess."
"Weights in these earrings ... tethered by them
... clamps on those fat red nipples of yours ... whipmarks on your big tits, Andrea, and on your hips and ass and belly ... god only knows what crammed up your cunt and your asshole ... along with plenty of cock!"
"Yes-s-s-sss," she hissed, starting to breath more and more rapidly.
He released her earrings. "Put your hands on top of your head. Keep them there," he told her. She raised her arms and obeyed, and he reached for her breasts. Using them as great fleshy handles, he tugged her into an erect kneeling position.
His fingers moved, digging into the white flesh of the generous teardrops hanging before her chest. He shoved her tits toward each other, changing their shapes, stretching them across her chest, bunching the heavy melons together and emphasizing their bulging whiteness and the depths of the cleavage between them. His hands shook them energetically. He jogged and jiggled her poor tits until her face was flushed and her breathing fast and shallow. But she kept her hands atop her head, and knelt tall.
It gave him a cruel feeling of pleasure to treat her sexy treasures this way, to make her flush deeply at the indecent treatment of her fleshy, pointed knockers-while she refused to moan or move.
The fattening nipples began to protrude like rosebuds about to burst into bloom, as he made their outsurging mounts flop up and down and noisily slap each other. His fingers dug in to knead and squeeze and squash the shiny white dumplings. She was unable to remain silent now, and he gloated over her gasps, sighs, and general distressful reaction. Her arms quivered-and remained firmly perched atop her head as he'd ordered.
The greatest joy of it was that her throat made rapturous noises and her eyes became shrouded in an exquisite sensual haze.
She couldn't help it. It was sexy! It hurt, and it was wrong, mean, humiliating-and her body and brain grooved on it, this violently randy and merciless treatment of her prideful tits!
He knew he was making her blood race hotly in her veins as he pulled and tugged and clamped and jiggled with both hands, making her woman-parts all wet with anticipation by the dominating actions of his hands, pressing the bursting fullness of her ripe jugs and tormenting them without mercy. "I love these fat tits," he growled, clamping hard. "I know," she said in a tiny, sobbing voice. "I love to hurt them."
"I know," she gasped. "Hurt them!" Suddenly he asked, "What's in the briefcase, Andrea?"
"Th-things ... things I thought you might want to ... to use on me." She shuddered violently; he was pressing each nipple between a thumb and forefinger with all his might, pressing, pressing....
"Eeyuggggggghhhhh!" she groaned out, twitching in the grip of an orgasm. He released her nipples suddenly, letting the blood rush back in, and she squealed in pain and shuddered again.
He pushed her back, so that the ottoman caught her uncomfortably in the small of her long back and her flushed breasts jiggled. He rose, gazing down at her as he slipped his belt out of its loops.
"We won't need your briefcase for a while," he told her.
She lay over the ottoman as he told her, her breasts squashed beneath her and her head pillowed on her arms. There was not a mark on the glorious expanse of soft, satiny skin that stretched so tautly over her buttocks. He stared down at their voluptuous curvaceousness, feeling his almost painful hard-on and wondering how long it had taken for the bruises he had marked her with to go away.
With his belt, he gave her some more. He struck, and struck. Aiming carefully low, he side-slung the fifth lash. The belt dealt her a startling blow and pain jolted through her cringing, huddled ass. The masochistic Amazon raised her flushed face from her arms and groaned piteously, knowing that agonizing stroke that burned so had left a vivid scarlet line across the throbbing agony of her flaming buttocks.
He gave her more, and watched her jiggle and shudder and twitch, and listened to her sobs and moans. Each place struck, each new target, seemed tenderest and most sensitive of all to his willing victim.
He tenderized and reddened every inch of her ass.
When he was tired of swinging it, he slipped the belt around her neck and hauled back on it. He counted slowly, noting when she tensed and then started to shudder. Swiftly he released the pressure. She fell forward, gasping and twitching.
"Oohhhhh-mmmmmmm," she moaned. "I-I-I just ca-a-amme...."
"God," he murmured, and dropped the belt across her back. He squatted in front of the ottoman, pulled her head up to look into her dark tear-swimming eyes. "How have you stood it all these years?"
"In ... in agony. I've ... waited for you for ... a long time."
"Tell me."
"I love you," she said softly. "I'm yours. You can do anything you want with me. I'll do anything you want."
Again he rose, watching her watch him, excitedly, as he stripped. His cock stood tall, scarily thick and broad, rigidly throbbing. Moisture gleamed at the very tip of the big shining crown.
"I want you on your back on the floor," he told her. "I want to fuck your tits."
With a swift smile, she stretched herself out on her back in seconds. He gazed down at her. The sensuously pulsing nudity of her body, laid out for his delectation, was a compelling inspiration. Her knees were slightly raised, her legs parted to display her visibly damp pussy in a way that was calculatedly obscene.
God, he thought, if only we'd met years ago!
Well ... we'll just have to "work" double time, to make up for all the years we've wasted by not knowing each other!
He stepped astride the body spread out like a feast for him, and lowered himself slowly to his knees. She herself pressed her palms and upraised fingers against the curving outer swells of her breasts, and pushed them together until only a thin valley separated them. Into it he thrust his burning erection. Smiling, she crushed her breasts together around it.
He began moving, his ass gliding along her lower rib cage and the pulsing expanse of her belly. The deep crevice that separated her shapely close-pressed tits was a snug warm tunnel that swallowed inch after inch of his gliding organ. Working his hips, hunching, he sawed into that channel just as if it were a tight juicy young snatch.
Assailed by vehemently delightful sensations, he studied her face. It was happy, and it seemed to glow. The effect on her of what he was doing was obvious, tremendous. Her lips were parted. The wings of her nostrils flared widely. Her eyes stared fixedly.
With his cock buried in the smooth warming cleavage of her fleshy breasts, he paused. "You like it."
"Um-m-mmmmmmmmmm!"
"You love it."
"Uh ... umm ... ummmHMMM." He jiggled. "Tell me!"
Her eyes snapped wide and she stared hotly up at him. "Move," she urged huskily. "I love your fucking my tits!"
He pushed in and out some more. At last he moved upward along her body, bending forward, watching the big swollen head of his cock shoot out from between her mounded tits and touch her mouth. Instantly it opened and her tongue leaped forth. After that, she sexily licked his cock-crown each time it drove forward to her mouth.
At last he sat back. "We'll grease them next time. Even with the sweat, it's too dry-it hurts. We'll grease up your tits, and fuck 'em again-maybe some used motor oil, hmm?"
"If you want. Let me lick it to make it feel better."
He reached behind him, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. Easily, he sank the first joints of two fingers between the very tops of the lips of her cunt. He tugged until her face screwed up in pain. She shuddered.
The telephone rang.
Her face looked stricken; even in her pain, she hated the interruption. But he compressed his lips, released her springy pussylips, and rose from her to walk naked to the telephone. He answered.
"This is Vanessa " a strained voice told him, almost in a whisper. "My thighs have been tied together so long there are deep red marks on them, all around. He beat me with his belt, and he says the buckle branded me. It hurts. I'm on my hands and knees, with clamps on my nipples-I brought them. He-his cock is-uh-up my ass. He-he says when I hang up he's going to push the phone up m-my cunt."
"Good for you," Mase said. "Hand him the phone."
"Hello Dad. Everything's fine-she said lust what I told her, and it's all true. Listen, Sabra's had this guy after her for about a year, and she moved out. She's living with him."
Mase frowned. "A little different from her mother and sister, hmm? Good for her, I guess-but what's that got to do with anything, son?"
"Just that I know a couple of women who live in a lonely and well-equipped house, way out in the country. And they sure would like to have us as visitors, guests, or ... whatever."
"Oh. Fascinating. Well, thanks for calling-we're both busy, hmm? Goodnight, Hal."
"Night, Dad. Get ready Vanny-here comes the phone up your slimy hole!"
Shaking his head and wearing a tight little smile, Mase returned to the naked woman lying on his living room floor. His eyes moved from her to the two glasses beside his chair. He stepped over her while she stared up, watching the bob of his cock above his tight-clenched balls. Picking up his drink, he finished it off quickly. Then he turned to her, still holding the glass.
It was wildly exciting to both of them. She loved the ice-cube up her cunt. It melted very quickly, and when he jammed his cock in, it was a whole new sensation: a chilled pussy that made him shiver at its first contact with his cock.
Then he began slamming it to her, banging her down against the carpet on the unyielding floor. Several minutes later the top of her head thumped against the baseboard. Grinning, he dragged her back, moving backward on his knees and keeping his cock inside her pussy-which was now very warm. He pumped it some more.
After that, withdrawing without having come, he pressed another ice cube in, and listened to her moan, watched her shiver and writhe.
"Put your hand over your pussy," he told her, and he stretched out beside her, tipping her toward him-she came very willingly-so that he could suck and lick and gnaw on her nipples until they were long and thick and bright red.
He told her to go taste herself, and he sat up, legs extended and hands behind him, propping himself up so he could watch while she sucked the tumid tool he had so recently pulled out of her wet cunt. She was on her hands and knees between his legs.
Sliding her mouth slowly back off his hugely distended staff, she rolled her eyes up to meet his avid gaze as she ran her tongue out for him to see it, then paused. First the kneeling woman grinned at him, wickedly and with licentious provocation.
Then she slurped the head of his prick into her mouth and began running her wet tongue sexily over it. Groaning, he pushed forward to meet that lingual delight as she bent over it. Her full, lusty breasts bounded before his gaze, falling softly onto his legs and lolling there, rubbing them with pointed, tumid nipples. Her lip-softened teeth chomped and he shivered in a sudden admixture of pain and pleasure as she grated her teeth over the rumpled folds of skin behind the bulging head of his cock.
Her bobbing head ran up and down, up and down the swollen, slippery staff.
Pushing himself up, he grasped her shoulders, using that grip as leverage while he pumped his cock in and out of her face. Obscene slurping noises accompanied the plunging of his meat into her active, loving mouth. Saliva drooled down the long shank of his standing cock. He pumped harder, making her sniff and snort as he goaded her throat and cut off her breath.
Then he let go and fell back.
"Get on it," he told her. "Ride it."
She trembled, bit her lip. "Uh-please-I don't want to do tha-"
"What the hell woman, aren't you into liberation?"
"Yes! I'm liberated-I'm getting what I want and need!"
"Part of that is being told," he said. "Ride that cock, slut!"
For the first time he heard that Junoesque woman giggle. "Yessir," she said, and she scrambled quickly to sit on his prick, which stood above him like a flagpole. She took it all the way, easily, and began pumping her hips up and down immediately. He watched, grinning. Her breasts bounced high and fell like bombs with the nipples looking like firing pins ready to set them off. The aching, quivering hot spike between his legs pressed strongly tip into her. The broad crown bounded repeatedly off her cervix as she jammed and crammed herself down on it.
"Like a mace," she groaned.
"What?"
"A mace," she said, bouncing and grinding. Her face writhed. "I mentioned it before. That big knob-ended club knights carried. It's the way-I think of you. Not Mase, with an V, but mace. A club, a weapon, a hard strong club over me."
He smiled. That was nice. No one had ever done so much for his ego as this woman he'd thought was the bitch dominatrix of all time! "Over you?" he said. "You mean up you!"
"Mase's mace!"
She pumped hard, squirming and wriggling and twisting herself sinuously down on him in a turbulent, hard-working ecstasy. The full thrusting fruits of her luscious titty-globes plunged and swayed and surged and bounced up and down.
He began heaving up briskly, sinking himself in her to the roots of his thick hard-on every time she came down. She squealed and began grinding.
"Ah! Oh-ah! That-oh, oh-that feels so good up my pussy!"
She tossed her head, pressing down hard. He watched her long raven-black locks cascading down over her creamy shoulders and spilling in shining glory over the rippling upper curves of her mammoth, thrusting breasts.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
She flashed him a smile.
"You're beautiful. Your hair's beautiful. Those jumping jugs of yours are beautiful. WE'RE beautiful!"
"Oh god yes," she said, grinding, twisting. "I work Monday," he told her. "My vacation starts Tuesday."
She paused in her gyrations, a frown darkening her sweaty face. She looked questioningly down at the sprawled man whose cock she rode.
"I'm going to pack my bags and get in the car and drive away. On vacation. I'm only taking a week, now. Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday-Saturday-Sunday, and Monday. Every day, and every night."
"Where ... where are you going?" she asked, in a voice that matched the suddenly lost expression on her face.
"Your place," he told her, and his voice matched his steady gaze.
She stared for a moment. Her hand rose to her heaving breast. Then, with a glad cry that became a sob of happiness, she fell forward onto him. She clutched, she crushed herself onto him, she squirmed to rub his body with hers, she kissed his chin and neck and shoulders. His arms went around her, and he stroked her back.
The stroking hands on her superbly padded ass began to rise and fall. The tempo picked up, and the height to which he raised his cupped palms increased so that he slapped harder and harder, the meaty smacks ringing off the walls. She squirmed and sighed and clung to him.
With her lying atop him, mashing him and making him desperately hot, he spanked her ass, hard, until his arms were tired and he knew he had to get out from under her or pass out.
He tumbled her from him.
"YOWWWWCH!" she groaned, when her well-whipped butt came down hard on the rug. But she lay there, on her back, and she smiled at him. The big mounded masses of her breasts jiggled liquidly as they rose and fell, rapidly.
He rose, extended a hand. "Get up, wench. Come on, we're going to my room-and bed."
Her eyes flared in pleasure and promise. Her hand sprang up into his, and he pulled her to her feet so that she fell against him. Naked in his living room, they embraced.
"You know what I'd love, love you to do?" she murmured, tilting her head up only a little to his ear.
He slapped her bottom. "Who cares, slut? We're going upstairs, and you're going onto your belly on my bed, with a fat pillow or three under you. And I am going to fuck your ass, woman."
A great tremor ran all through her as he swung her, his arm around her waist, to the steps. She burst into tears.
"Oh my GOD," she sobbed, "that's just what I WANNNT!"
That shook him, and again joy and elation soared in him, exalted him. "Christ," he murmured as they ascended the steps, carrying their clothing, "made for each other!"
"Oh yessss!" she said vehemently, hissing the word. She clung to him, so that they staggered twice and thumped the wall before they reached the top of the narrow stairway. She happily mounted the bed on her hands and knees, waited while he thrust two pillows beneath her, one on top of the other, and then slumped forward with them under her crotch, pushing her bottom high. "I-I come in my ass, did you know that darling?"
"I don't think I knew it was possible," he told her, noting that his cock had given a great jerk at her words.
He could hear the smile in her voice: "It is-s-s-s-ss!" He came up behind her, on his knees. She trembled.
"Oh-ummmm ... darling ... please ... don't just ... please put something there...."
He slapped her tensing buttock. "It's sweaty," he told her, "and my cock's slimy with your pussy-oil. No. Don't forget yourself, slut-I want to hurt you!"
"Ohhh...."
He hurt her. She screeched, tried automatically to crawl away when he w-edged his cock into her anus and began pushing. He held her, and he had to use all his strength. Bit by bit, inch by hard-fought inch, his throbbing erection nosed slowly up into the clamping heat of her asshole. Great shudders went through her, and she made tense, keening sounds of pain and fear. Her breathing was ragged, a series of panting gasps.
"Up ... your ... asssss," he murmured, pushing strongly.
"Ahnnnnnnghhh ... NNNGNnnnnnnnhhhhhhh!"
The damp inner membranes sliding so reluctantly along his hot flesh were desperately urgent sensations in him, and he grasped her tightly while he punched harder into the inflamed hole.
His groin slammed into her buttocks, flattened them slightly.
"You've got it," he told her, moving his hips a little, back and forth. "You've got it all."
She released a long sigh and lay still. He felt her deeply pierced rectum relax, all around the enormous goad of his monumental erection.
He began pushing and pulling. He heard her sigh.
"Ye-es you-hurt me," she gasped, her voice vibrating as he rocked her with strong surges in and out of her back passage, "but-t-t ... it didn't ... hurt ... for Zong!" And she began moving with him.
The sensation-filled woman groaned and clutched the sheet, lying on her belly, propped up, with his cock w-edged tightly up the intimate groove of her ass. Ecstatic sensual pleasure boiled through her like liquid and a moan of soft urgency escaped her. She wiggled and pushed backward. His rock-hard cock gored into her asshole, seeming to swell ever bigger in her, filling and expanding uncharted depths of her warm, velvety anal track. She met every thumping stroke with a backward thrust of her hips that gained her a spank from his groin and stuffed her to the bowels.
He had held a hard-on for an hour, longer than an hour. He had never been so wrapped up, so enveloped in sexuality for so long. Everything they did, everything they said. He had belted her ass, slapped her ass, he had sunk his cock between her tits and into her face and up her pussy and now into her tightly cloying ass, and he had no chance of lasting.
High on sex, the excited man hunched and punched, stroking strongly in. His cock sliced a hot slick-walled tunnel into the depths of her asshole, stretching the tiny corridor incredibly. It expanded more and more, grew wetter and wetter, and he whipped in and out of it with all his strength.
The lurching man cried out, going stiff and grinding in, when the semen started bursting almost painfully from him. It inundated her rectum, in jet after streaking creaming jet.
Despite his weariness from that orgasm, and the sweat sliding off his body, he continued fucking her up the ass ... until he felt the sexpot-his sexpot-tense, and shudder, and groan, on a rising note. Then, smiling, he was listening to her long ululating wail that told him she had hit her peak too, proving once again the existence of anal orgasm.
He allowed his naked, sweaty body to fall along her back, and he lay there a long, long while, muttering to her how good it had been.
A half-hour later, she was nursing gently, happily, and sweetly at his cock. Feeling like royalty, he smoked a cigarette. And he watched the way the loving woman's hair caressed his thighs like a rich black cloak.
And we haven't even opened that briefcase yet, Mase thought happily.
Then he reached down to entangle his hands in the silky mass of hair of his woman, and he began fucking her face.
