Hans laid back on the bed and watched Marcie on the floor.
Her wrists were still tied and she was struggling to get up. He would have to help her, but he'd let her wait a few minutes.
She had to learn who was her master. She had to understand just how inferior she was .
With a little training, he was sure he could mold Marcie into a totally obedient slave.
He wondered what his sister Hilda would say when she saw her. Hilda would be invaluable in the training. But she would be jealous too.
There would be plenty of time to deal with that in the morning, he told himself.
"Come, Marcie," he said, rising from the bed to untie Marcie's bonds. "It's time for bed."
Marcie obediently followed him. She knew she wasn't going anywhere else tonight.
ONE
Marcie met Hans at a party. It was a very hot summer night in the middle of August.
After he stared at her tits for ten minutes he came over and told her his name.
Marcie noticed that he had big strong hands and thick fingers.
"I always heard that men with big hands had big cocks," she said. "Is that true?"
"Why not come back to my place and find out?" he shot back. So she left with him.
His Porsche was waiting outside and he drove her to his house.
It was late at night when they drove to a strange part of the town of Carsons Corners.
Marcie had never been in this neighborhood before.
Most of the houses in the neighborhood were set back very far from the road, behind high gates.
It made them all look like they had something terrible to hide.
At last Hans stopped his Porsche in front of a pair of huge high gates which opened automatically when he gave a signal from the car.
The car followed a long winding driveway before it arrived at the front door of a darkened split level ranch house.
Marcie wasn't impressed with Hans' big mansion. She only hoped he had a big cock. She was very horny and getting hornier.
Maybe, she thought, she'd made a mistake by leaving the party with Hans.
Even though he was big, appearances could be deceiving.
Maybe she should have gone with him into one of the bedrooms or even the bathroom or even a closet and checked him out.
Now if things didn't work out it would be too late to go back to the party.
"You're awfully quiet," Hans said as he led her into the house. "What are you thinking about, my dear?"
"Just about how much fun we're going to have tonight and how I just can't wait to get started," she lied.
Inside the house, everything was very quiet. If anyone else lived there they must be sound asleep.
"Do you live alone?" she whispered.
"No, my sister lives here too, but I'm sure she's sleeping."
Marcie followed Hans up a staircase to the second floor and into his bedroom.
It was dark, but Marcie could see that most of the walls were red velvet and the thick carpet was even darker red, the color of blood.
"Wow!" she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the ceiling.
But she didn't have too much time to look at herself because Hans pushed her out the French doors and onto the terrace outside.
It was nightime, but the full moon above them gave plenty of light.
Hans held her tightly against him.
She could feel the rock hard bulge in his crotch.
At least she wouldn't have to worry about him keeping it hard, she told herself, as Hans' thick strong hands began to massage her breasts.
Marcie was very proud of her big tits.
"Take off your dress," he ordered.
"Here?" Marcie asked with surprise. "Out here on the terrace?"
"Yes, I want you now." Hans had a strong, powerful voice.
It was the voice of a man who was used to being obeyed.
Marcie had been around. But she had never actually fucked outdoors before, except on the beach and that time at camp, when she did it in the woods with the ceramics counselor, but that hardly counted because she was only fifteen.
Actually, the idea made her hot.
She started to take her high heels off first. She was wearing three inch high stilleto heels that made her long legs look even longer.
"No," Hans barked. "Keep the shoes on. Just take off the dress."
Marcie began to lift her dress, but she wasn't fast enough.
Suddenly Hans grabbed it by the hem and with one movement ripped it off her.
"Hey," she started to yell, "You know what that cost me?"
She wasn't wearing anything underneath but a black garter belt that held up her sheer black stockings.
There wasn't much to Marcie's skimpy French garter belt so Hans could get a good look at her blonde pussy.
Hans smiled when he saw that it was as golden as her hair. He had always preferred was a natural blondes.
He watched patiently as Marcie removed the stockings and garter belt, then put the high heels back on.
All that time he never took his eyes off her big breasts.
Her nipples gave her away.
Her little pink bullets were as hard and erect as little erasers.
By this time Marcie was hotter than a two-dollar pistol and dying for Hans to fuck her.
"You want it, don't you?" Hans said.
"Yes," she answered.
"You want me to rub my cock over your blonde bush?" he teased.
"You want to wrap your legs around me and slap your cunt up and down my shaft?"
His arrogant words were making Marcie even hotter, although they were not exactly what she expected to hear.
"Gee, Hans," she said. "You sound a little mad. Did I do something?"
"Only dogs get mad," Hans said. He was a strict grammarian. "I'm angry. I don't like your attitude Marcie. I think you need some discipline."
"Gee, Hans, all I need is to get laid. What's the problem?"
"You're gonna get laid," Hans said. "I'm gonna give you some love lessons you'll never forget."
Marcie blinked. She was starting to get a little nervous.
Something in Hans' cool and limpid green eyes gave her a funny feeling that he wasn't exactly Mr. Sensitivity.
"Lesson Number One," Hans began. "You don't dare to do anything until I tell you to do it. Understand?"
"Yes, Hans," she said meekly.
"Now get down on your knees."
Marcie knelt obediently on the concrete terrace. It was colder and harder than she had ever imagined.
He grabbed her hand and held it against his crotch where a telltale bulge was straining at his groin.
"Now open it up," he ordered.
She struggled to open the zipper and released his throbbing rod.
Marcie stared at the brick red head of Hans' huge cock.
"Suck it, you cock hungry slut," he ordered.
Marcie obediently responded to her orders and knelt down on the cold concrete floor of the terrace and opened her mouth.
She opened her jaw as wide as she could.
"Is it too big for you?" he asked.
He didn't wait for an answer.
He just rammed his tool into her mouth right to the balls.
Marcie almost choked on the size of it. His big balls swayed under her chin.
Hans' cock swelled even more inside her hot, wet mouth.
"Now suck it!" he shouted.
He could feel her pull on him.
Soon she was moving her lips up and down his powerful rod in passionate rhythm.
Suddenly Harmon changed his mind and pulled his organ from her mouth.
"What's wrong," she gasped. "Don't you want to come in my mouth?"
He was still standing over her and his huge rigid cock was glistening with her saliva.
She ached for him.
She moved her mouth towards his penis, thinking that was what he wanted, but he pushed her blonde head away.
"I'm going to fuck you hard," he roared and began to strip off his clothes.
Soon Hans was naked too and he had Marcie on her back on the cold hard concrete of the terrace, pile driving his rigid cock in and out of her tight blonde pussy.
His swollen tool was so huge she was half afraid he would rip something inside her but it seemed worth the risk.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"I want your cock up my cunt, I want it to fill my pussy!" she started screaming, as the hard round knob of his steel-hard rod slipped easily over the tender flesh of her pussy, sliding in and out of her hot cunt.
"Hans!" she screamed as his hard cock went all the way inside her.
She felt the force of his balls slapping hard against her when his cock hit home.
"You want it, don't you, cunt?" he yelled back.
"Yes, yes," she screamed. "I need it bad. Fuck me hard."
Marcie could hardly stand it.
She loved the satisfaction of feeling her cunt being totally jammed.
She moaned as Hans pumped away.
Her body began to move in rhythm with his manly thrusts.
"That's it," Hans shouted suddenly. "Now you know how a real man fucks you. You like it too, don't you baby?'
"Yes, yes," Marcie cried. "Fuck me, Hans. Do it hard."
She was so excited she could barely talk and her body responded only to Hans.
She had no control over it at all.
Hans plunged deeper, his masculine power leaving her breathless.
He gripped Marcie's hot writhing ass with both of his oversize hands and pressed her into him, sliding his throbbing tool into her squirming, gushing pussy.
"Fuck me, Hans," she screamed. "I want you to pound my pussy with your big hard cock."
Hans pounded her like a sledgehammer.
She thrashed wildly on the hard concrete surface of the terrace as Hans' cock barged into her hot battered pussy.
"You're tearing me apart," she screamed as Hans huge log rammed through her love canal.
Then Marcie stopped talking and started giving out a low, deep wail that sounded more like an animal than a human.
"Don't stop, Hans," she pleaded.
"How does it feel you cock hungry bitch?" Hans demanded. "How do you like my hard prick up your soft pink cunt?"
Marcie was speechless. How could Hans seriously expect an answer from her when he had her in this state?
Soon they were both dripping and slippery with sweat from their workout, but they kept pounding and pumping to the jungle beat set by Hans' powerhouse prick.
Suddenly Hans moaned "I'm gonna come," as he shot great globs of creamy white jism up Marcie's throbbing hot cunt.
Marcie felt his cum shoot deep into her cunt and with that her ripe pussy convulsed and she came hard.
After a few minutes, Hans helped Marcie up to her feet and led her back inside to his darkened bedroom.
Marcie's mercenary little heart was beating wildly. S
Her two favorite things in life were money and hot sex, but she had never found them in the same person.
Now it looked like she had.
Marci could tell from Hans' expensive suit and Rolex watch that he was loaded, but she couldn't tell how loaded.
It looked like she had found a real live one this time.
This house was like a palace. Beyond the terrace she had noticed a big swimming pool.
She was still so wobbly from the bout on the terrace that she had a little trouble walking.
Her legs were like jelly and she could hardly stand.
She wanted to take the high heels off, but she was afraid to ask Hans.
Now that she had a chance to look around, Marcie could see that the bedroom was huge, as big as an Olympic size pool.
There was an enormous king size bed in the exact center.
The room was very hot. She stared at the mirror on the ceiling.
For the first time she could get a good look at Hans.
So far, all she'd noticed was that he was tall and had big hands and a big, hard cock.
Now she noticed that he had a thick, powerful build, with a broad, hairy chest, although his stomach bulged slightly, like an athlete who was out of training.
But he was in good shape in other ways, she soon discovered, as she saw his prick was once again standing as tall as a flagpole.
"Oh, Hans," she sighed. "I want to be your slave."
Hans' face lit up and an odd gleam came into his eyes.
Marcie just didn't realize that a man like Hans took words like slave and discipline very seriously.
She would soon learn just how seriously.
"I knew the minute I saw you, Marcie," he said. "That you were more than just a great pair of tits."
Now he knew that she was more than just a great fuck.
She was the sexual partner he had been searching for. She was destined to be his love slave and he was born to be her master!
Hans was excited with the new feeling of sexual mastery that filled him. He began to massage Marcie's round pink breasts.
Her skin was smooth and soft, but her breasts were big and hard. He wanted to test her. He took a riding crop that was hanging by the side of his bed and fingered it lovingly.
"Turn over," he ordered, as he beat the crop against his palm.
"What now?" Marcie asked. She was starting to wonder again about what kind of situation she had gotten into.
He grabbed her long blonde hair and twisted it tightly, forcing her to face him. His eyes were shining brightly.
"Gee, Hans, are you angry, or horny or what?" she asked. "I'm confused."
He slapped her hard across the face. Her cheek started to throb with pain.
"If you want to be my love slave bitch, you've got to learn to behave," he insisted. "You can start right now. Just turn over."
Obediently, Marcie turned on her belly, revealing her voluptuous pink cupcakes.
Hans began to smack them hard with the riding crop. They went from pale pink to bright red as Marcie's shrieks of agony filled the room.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, straining her head from right to left, trying to get a look at him.
It was no use. She could hear him, but she couldn't see him.
"We'll do it my way," he barked, "Get on your knees.
Marcie kneeled down on the red fuck carpet.
She watched as Hans picked up the black silk stockings she had discarded.
"Hans, what are you doing?" she asked nervously.
"I told you I would teach you to behave," he said. "This is lesson number two."
"Gee, Hans, maybe some other time," Marcie insisted. "It's getting late."
"Don't give me that shit. You'll leave when I'm through with you."
Marcie shivered as he approached her.
"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered.
"Oh, no, Hans," she said. "I don't like to do that."
"It doesn't matter what you like," he said, more excited than ever.
"When I get through with you," he added. "You'll do whatever I say, and you'll love it."
Marcie obeyed and felt the silk stockings tighten around her wrists. A sense of fear and panic crept over her. She didn't like the strange look in Hans' ice-blue eyes.
"I don't think is such a good idea," she whispered.
"Who cares what you think?" he answered. He was enjoying this already.
"Really, Hans," Marcie insisted. "I think I better go home now."
"You mean you were lying when you said you wanted to be my sex slave?" he demanded.
"Not exactly." Marcie tried to think of a polite way to get out of there without hurting Hans' feelings.
But her stern host just ignored her and concentrated on tying her wrists with one of her stockings.
"Please, Hans," she pleaded. "Let me go."
"I can't let you go, Marcie. You're my slave now."
Hans stood back and admired his new slave as she knelt on the rug. Her head was on the floor, her forehead touching the rug.
Her hands were behind her.
Her cute white ass was up in the air.
Hans moved behind her, reaching under her. His thick fingers began to stroke her cunt. She was dripping wet.
With one hand he began to play with her-vagina, soaking his fingers in the juice of her pussy.
Soon his fingers were dripping with her cunt juice.
He pulled his hand away and began to insert a dripping wet finger up her anus. As it moved inside Marcie squealed with surprise and delight.
His thick finger worked its way up slowly up the tight corridor of her rear entry, gently battling the involuntary resistance of her ass muscles.
Marcie's moans of pleasure encouraged him as he inched along the road less traveled.
Soon his entire middle finger had made its way up and Marcie groaned with pleasure as her body went into a spasm of ecstasy.
Now that her anus had relaxed, he could move his finger in and out, and Marcie was responding with enthusiasm.
Suddenly, he pulled his finger away and began exploring her blonde cunt again.
By now it was dripping with Marcie's love juice. Soon Hans' fingers were soaked with it too. He began to rub the stuff all over his proud and rigid rod.
"You want it now, don't you Marcie?" he panted. "And I'm gonna fuck your tight ass good."
At the sight of his huge cock, glistening in the moonlight with her own cum Marcie whimpered with fright.
Hans gripped the white mounds of her sexy ass and began to ram his prick inside.
She moaned as she felt the hot naked shaft of his cock against her bare buttocks, working his hard cock up her ass.
Marcie screamed. She thought she was going to faint.
He moved his mighty tool against the cushion of her soft, plump ass, forcing his prick, slathered with her juice, into her tiny pink anus.
Then the pain subsided and she started to get into it the feeling.
"Oh, Hans," she moaned as he forced his rod into her "It feels so good. I love it when you fuck my ass."
Her voice turned Hans on even more as he plunged deeper into her anus.
"How does it feel to have a real man?" he demanded. "Not like those pussy-whipped wimps you're used to."
His hot poker was corkscrewing her ass-hole.
She gasped and moaned as the head of Hans' giant cock probed its way up her anal canal until she could feel the rasp of his pubic hair brushing up against her sphincter.
But Hans held her body tightly, pulling her soft white buttocks against his hard cock, forcing his proud penis into the tiny opening.
Marcie sobbed, then moaned, but he continued to guide his manly missile along the narrow road.
It was so tight, and her ass cheeks were soft, plump cushions.
"You're hurting me, Hans," Marcie whined.
"And you love it, bitch," he answered, pressing ever deeper and deeper into her cozy, clinging little tunnel of love.
"I'm gonna barrel into your buns," he yelled as he rammed his cock deeper, searing her raw ass-hole, until his cock began to spit hot heavy dollops of cum.
Marcie had never dreamed that her ass could hold so much cock. She never dreamed that she could be enjoying it so much.
But she could feel Hans cock probing her ass and she was loving every minute of it.
"Great tits," Hans gasped, as he began to caress her glistening melons, pinching the plump, pink flesh.
"Ouch," Marcie screamed at the new sensation of pain.
But Hans just kept it up, while he continued his bold thrusts inside her rectum. The two sensations at the same time were almost more than she could stand.
"You're killing me Hans," she screamed.
But Hans wasn't ready to finish her off yet.
Instead his nimble fingers moved away from her throbbing pink nipples and down her soft belly as they sought her clitoris.
His fingers quickly found the wet pink joy button and began to toy with it.
By this time Marcie was totally at his mercy, moaning loudly and thrashing wildly, in a fit of sexual ecstasy.
His cock spurted hot semen up her ass-hole.
"You're a hot bitch, aren't you," Hans said as the two of them collapsed in ecstasy.
They were both dripping wet, like two champions who had just gone one on one.
Hans laid back on the bed and watched Marcie on the floor.
Her wrists were still tied and she was struggling to get up. He would have to help her, but he'd let her wait a few minutes.
She had to learn who was her master. She had to understand just how inferior she was .
With a little training, he was sure he could mold Marcie into a totally obedient slave.
He wondered what his sister Hilda would say when she saw her. Hilda would be invaluable in the training. But she would be jealous too.
There would be plenty of time to deal with that in the morning, he told himself.
"Come, Marcie," he said, rising from the bed to untie Marcie's bonds. "It's time for bed."
Marcie obediently followed him. She knew she wasn't going anywhere else tonight.
TWO
Harmon Yokel, Marcie Dempster's landlord and downstairs neighbor, wasn't surprised when she didn't come home that night.
Harmon kept careful track of Ms. Dempster's comings and goings and he considered them disgraceful.
Many nights she brought home strange men. Some nights she didn't even bother to come home at all.
He had a good idea where she was on those nights and the kind of man she was with.
He was sure that some day she was going to get into big trouble.
He felt it was his responsibility to closely watch her behavior and he was very conscientious.
Harmon had even installed a two-way mirror in Marcie's bathroom so that he could be sure that she was at least observing her personal hygiene.
From his utility closet next to her apartment he observed her nightly.
He was relieved to learn that she took frequent baths and showers.
He especially liked it when Marcie took baths, because then the shower curtain didn't interfere with his view through the two-way mirror.
She was very good about washing herself all over.
Marcie always lovingly lathered up her bountiful breasts and sweetly soaped up her blonde thatch of pubic hair.
She carefully caressed her pink pussy lips and paid special attention to her round pink ass.
Some day, Harmon hoped, he would be able to help her, but he knew she'd be very mad at him if she ever found out that he was watching her.
Harmon's cock would grow rigid as he watched Marcie splash around in the bubble bath.
He was always alone in the closet, so he usually ended up playing with himself.
Playing with himself while watching Marcie splash around in the tub was better than nothing.
In fact, it was better than a lot of the things that Harmon had tried.
It was certainly better than the vacuum cleaner trick which had nearly castrated him.
And it was certainly better than stroking himself while staring at the pictures in Keyhole Kapers. Although the girls in the magazine were limber and lovely they were no substitute for the real thing.
Even if a guy was only watching the real thing.
For the last two days, however, there had been no trace of Marcie Dempster.
She definitely hadn't come home.
He was tempted to use his skeleton key to enter her apartment and make sure that she hadn't skipped out, owing him this month's rent.
He had entered her apartment only once before.
Harmon recalled his visit to Marcie's apartment with pleasure.
He'd had plenty of time to inspect all three rooms, devoting special attention to Marcie's bedroom where she kept all her imagine little panties and bras in a bureau drawer.
He'd enjoyed handling them, imagining that she was wearing them.
He liked the ones he found in her hamper even more.
He could smell Marcie's hot, wet little pussy on them.
But Marcie had surprised him and yelled and screamed.
She frightened him.
She threatened to rig up some kind of booby trap that would end up castrating him if he ever went into the apartment again.
He believed her.
Fortunately, he had managed to hold on to one pair of her little red lace panties as a souvenir of his adventure.
He usually carried them in the pocket of his overalls.
He liked to fondle them during the day and imagine that he could still smell the sweet secretions of Marcie's pussy on them.
At night he slept with them under his pillow.
Marcie just didn't appreciate him, Harmon thought.
Someday he hoped to show her how devoted he was to her.
Meanwhile, though, he wondered where she was and who she was with.
As he stared out the window, watching for any sign of her car he saw her best friend Angela Dearing pull up in her shiny red Honda.
She parked the car in the lot in front of the building, then walked up the sidewalk towards Harmon's ground floor apartment, cutting across the lawn that he had just mowed.
Harmon winced as he watched her high heeled boots dig into his beautiful lawn.
Angela was the opposite of Marcie.
While Marcie was classy, tall and blonde with long legs, Angela Dearing was short and dark and loud and cheap.
As far as Harmon was concerned, all they had in common were their big breasts.
Harmon thought about the sight of Marcie soaping her big pink breasts in her shower and started to get a chill.
He hoped nothing had happened to her. He would miss her luscious boobs.
"Hey, voyeur," Angela yelled crudely through the open window.
Harmon tried to pretend he didn't hear her and concentrated on the copy of Keyhole Kapers magazine in his lap.
"You heard me," Angela yelled again. "Are you gonna answer me, or do I have to come in there and get you?"
"I beg your pardon, Miss Dearing," Harmon said with all the dignity he could muster. "Are you speaking to me?"
"I sure am, you pervert," she screamed. "And you better get your ass out here and help me find my friend."
"If you're referring to Miss Dempster, I'm afraid I can't help you," Harmon said. "She hasn't been home for several days."
"Yeah, I guess you'd know, wouldn't you?" Angela snapped. "But I want you to let me inside the apartment just to be sure. You can get in, can't you?"
"Really, Miss Deering," Harmon insisted. "Miss Dempster is a tenant, I can't just go in her apartment without her permission."
"Don't fuck with me, Harmon, Marcie told me all about you," Angela insisted.
Really, Harmon thought, this brunette bimbo was so noisy and aggressive she was going to cause an embarrassing scene.
Already people in other apartments were opening their windows and staring down at her.
He reluctantly decided to go outside and take her to Marcie's apartment.
Harmon hated being seen with Angela Dearing.
She was wearing heavy, cheap cologne that almost overpowered him.
She wore too much make-up and her fingernails were long and painted a dark red, like blood.
And her clothes were loud and cheap.
She was wearing a tight, bright green Spandex mini skirt and high black boots that came up to her thighs and called special attention to her wide hips and thick, short legs.
"Hey," Angela snapped. "Don't walk so fast."
Harmon was not surprised that the little slut had trouble keeping up with his manly strides and he deliberately walked faster.
He enjoyed watching her struggle to keep up and the way her big heavy breasts bounced up and down as she tried to take bigger steps in that tight skirt.
The tight, skimpy T-shirt she was wearing did little to hide her bounteous cleavage.
Harmon could feel the bulging hard on in his overalls. She was asking for it.
Once inside Marcie's apartment, Harmon could stand it no longer.
He grabbed Angela and tossed her against the blue velvet sectional sofa, so hard that she rolled right off it and onto the furry white flokati rug.
Angela's tiny mini skirt rolled up even higher and Harmon could see that she nothing on underneath it, not even panty hose.
There was nothing between the tops of her boots and her thick thatch of black pubic hair but plump white thighs.
"What do you think you're doing?" Angela demanded in her harsh Brooklyn accent.
But Harmon had no time to answer.
In no time at all he had dropped his overalls revealing his erect penis.
But the real surprise was his enormous cock.
Angela was suddenly petrified with fear at the sight of it.
The sheer size of Harmon's huge cock totally shocked her.
At the sight of it Angela began to whimper.
She was about to be impaled on the biggest tool she had ever seen.
He was on top of her, the full weight of his huge body coming down on her.
Tiny Angela struggled but it was no use, she was no match for his manly force.
Suddenly, Harmon felt ten years younger.
The soft white flesh of Angela's lush thighs yielded to him as he forced his throbbing rod inside her.
She screamed angrily and clawed his back with her bright red fingernails, but she was helpless against him.
Soon his stout stiff penis was dripping with Angela's honey as the love juice poured from her cunt.
To his surprise, Angela stopped resisting and started to encourage him.
"Oh, Harmon, don't stop," she moaned. Harmon was thrilled.
At last he, he thought, he had a woman who really appreciated him.
He never wanted to stop!
Angela was just as surprised.
She had never imagined that Marcie's creepy landlord was such a sexual athlete.
She had never dreamed that Harmon would be the man who would lift her to the ultimate in sexual ecstasy.
Suddenly, Harmon pulled away.
He stood up and tried to pull up his overalls, forcing his still rigid cock back inside.
"What's wrong?" Angela asked. "Don't you want to come?"
She stared up at Harmon's eyes.
They were crazy with lust.
Drops of saliva glistened on his thick, blubbery lips.
At the sight of Harmon's face, Angela came to her senses.
She must have been crazy a few minutes ago, she thought.
She'd almost let Harmon fuck her. He was a total pig!
She tried to get to her feet, but Harmon put one foot on her stomach. He was wearing heavy black work boots.
"Don't you move until I tell you," he ordered. A chill ran down Angela's spine. How could she disobey? Harmon was three times her size.
And probably crazy.
And Marcie had warned her that he was definitely a pervert.
Angela knew she was helpless.
Harmon was breathing hard, like some kind of wild animal.
For the first time in her life, Angela Dearing was afraid of a man.
"Please, Harmon," she begged in a whispery, little-girl voice. "Don't hurt me."
"Hurt you?" Harmon laughed insanely. "I don't want to hurt you, Angela, but you're such a slut. You've got to be punished."
Angela began to whimper.
Salty tears rolled from her big brown eyes and down her tawny cheeks. Her slim body shivered with sobs.
"What are you going to do?" she gasped.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget," he roared.
Angela trembled at the thought.
Harmon Yokel was a dangerous man.
He was a total sex-fiend.
If only she could get away, she thought, but she was helpless.
She only hoped that whatever Harmon planned to do to her it, it would be over quickly.
Harmon began to laugh.
It was an ugly, evil laugh, like some psychotic baboon.
He was still laughing when he walked over to the window. Two macram' planters hung from the top of the window frame.
At least the blinds were drawn, Angela thought with relief. The neighbors would never know about her shame.
But if they didn't know, they couldn't save her.
No one could save her from horny Harmon.
She watched in amazement as Harmon yanked down Marcie's beautiful macram' planters with one swift movement.
The two clay flower pots inside them crashed to the floor.
Angela started to get up to pick up the shattered pieces.
"Get back, bitch," Harmon ordered.
Then he came at her with the macram', ripping it apart, so that he soon had four ropes of equal size, each about four feet long.
"How could you ruin Marcie's macram' planters?" Angela whined.
"I've got a better plans for them," Harmon said. "I'm going to tie you up, slut."
"Tie me up?" Angela repeated. She began to shake with fear and disgust.
Harmon took her by her long black hair and dragged her into Marcie's bedroom.
There wasn't much furniture there, just a vanity table, a chair and a big four poster bed with a dainty pink and white cover.
"Get on the bed," Harmon ordered as he ripped away the ruffled cover.
Angela didn't dare argue.
She hopped on top of the bed.
She was so terrified that she didn't even realize how much the sight of her pert pink ass excited Harmon even more.
He grabbed her left wrist tightly in his large, sweaty paw and looped a rope around it.
"Ouch," Angela shrieked. "That hurts."
"That's the idea, bitch," Harmon snapped as he yanked her arm and began to lash her wrist to the bedpost.
His face turned even uglier as he concentrated on tying the knot as tightly as possible. He didn't care if it hurt her, he was tired of this complaining bitch!
Angela's arm ached, but she was afraid to touch it.
She didn't want to make Harmon any more upset.
There was no telling what he could do if he wanted to.
He could break her arm.
He could fracture her wrist.
He could twist her arm right out of its socket.
Angela thought she might let Harmon do whatever he wanted. If he'd just stop.
When would he be satisfied?
Maybe he would never be satisfied until she was dead!
Her wrist was already aching and ugly red marks had formed on her slim wrists.
Harmon cackled like a sex-crazed fiend as he moved around the bed, tying Angela's fragile right wrist and then her ankles to the appropriate bedposts.
Because Angela was so petite, he really had to stretch her out to get her ankles tied to the posts at the foot of the bed.
"I need one of those stretching machines," he muttered.
Once, while going through a tenant's garbage, he'd found a book full of pictures of interesting machines that did all kinds of unusual things to the human body.
His favorite was the stretching machine which pulled a woman in four directions.
He tried to remember how the stretching machine in the magazine was supposed to work. Maybe, he thought, he would try to build one someday. He was very handy with tools.
"This hurts, Harmon," Angela cried. "I feel like my whole body is being torn apart."
"Good," Harmon sneered. "This will teach you what happens to cheap tarts."
For a while, Angela tried to thrash around in the bed, but it was useless.
With her hands and legs tied to the bedposts, she could hardly move.
Lying on her tummy, her big breasts pressed between her and the hard mattress, was more than uncomfortable.
It was sheer hell!
Angela could only lift her head high enough to look into Harmon's lustful eyes.
She watched in horror as he grabbed a hairbrush from Marcie's dressing table.
He tapped it into the palm of his hand, the way a baseball pitcher might tap the ball into his glove while warming up for the pitch.
But Harmon Yokel wasn't playing games.
"Now I'm going to give you the spanking you deserve," he announced.
"No, please, not a spanking," Angela pleaded. But her protests were useless.
Harmon sat down on the bed and began to stroke her thighs.
She could feel him, but he couldn't see him.
She waited in fear for Harmon to start.
CRACK, the hairbrush smashed against the soft flesh of Angela's ass. The stinging pain was almost unbearable. It didn't stop at her buttocks. It traveled in waves all over her body. She twisted in agony.
But her reaction only excited Harmon even more.
SMASH, CRACK. Harmon whipped himself into a spanking frenzy.
He just loved the sound.
He loved the melody of her screams and the way it combined with the rhythm of his paddle.
He was sorry he hadn't thought of taping it.
If he had the sounds on a cassette he could listen to them on his Walkman, he mused.
"Harmon, stop, please," Angela begged. "I can't stand this pain."
Harmon moved his hairbrush down her thick, hard calves.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.
"Harmon, have mercy," she pleaded. "You're hurting me. I can't take it."
Exhausted, Harmon finally stopped.
He was sweaty and panting from his workout.
He gazed at Angela's lush ass.
By now it was bright rosy red from the spanking.
He felt like a fucking artist. Angela felt like shit.
Her ass was burning.
She was relieved that Harmon had stopped, but she feared what new torture lay ahead.
Harmon got up and went to the front of the bed. Angela could look into his eyes. They were filled with a frenzy of total lust.
He began to loosen the bib of his Oshkosh overalls.
They dropped to the floor, leaving him totally naked.
Angela knew she was in the hands of a sex maniac. Harmon Yokel was totally out of control.
His fat body glistened with sweat.
The thick hair on his chest was soaking and matted from his workout.
"Please, Harmon, let me go," she begged.
"Not yet," he said. "I'm not finished with you."
He scratched his balls while he considered his next step.
The wrinkled sack was just inches away from Angela's nose and she could see that it was filled with Harmon's hot raging semen.
He would have to put all that cream somewhere.
Angela began to cry at the thought.
That only made Harmon laugh.
He laughed so hard he started to drool.
A big glob of spit escaped down his flabby lower lip.
He wiped it away with his hairy right hand, then started to stroke his penis, wetting it with his saliva.
He spread his spit along his stiff tool, adding an extra dollop on the head.
He called it his warhead. The warhead of his missile.
Harmon got up on the bed and knelt between Angela's spread legs.
He stared lustfully at her luscious ass cheeks. They were still red from the spanking.
He touched them gently.
Angela moaned. Her tender flesh was still sore.
"Good," Harmon said with satisfaction. "You'll really feel me when I fuck your sweet ass."
He reached over her shoulder and stuck his hand into her mouth.
She almost gagged on his fingers.
"Suck them," he ordered. "Wet them good."
Terrified, Angela obeyed, wetting his fingers, dirty nails and all.
At least he didn't have his cock in her mouth, she thought. At least not yet.
When his fingers were greased with her spit, he took his hand back and began to explore her tiny ass-hole.
He forced her ass cheeks open, then shoved his manly rod between them, forcing his tool right up her tight little anus.
In her intense agony, Angela clawed helplessly at the air.
She couldn't move.
Her whole body ached, but she soon forgot all about that and only felt this new, agonizing pain as Harmon's huge penis forced its way up her petite rectum.
She tried to relax but that was useless.
She had no control over her own body.
Harmon Yokel totally controlled her.
Harmon gasped as he penetrated more deeply.
Angela's mind was a total fog.
Each thrust from Harmon sent her closer to sex heaven.
Harmon's rough hands glided over her sweaty body, groping for her clit.
He took the little button and began to stimulate it while he kept driving his cock deeper into her rectum.
She thought she was losing her mind.
She had never been so humiliated in her life.
Angela had the terrible feeling that when this ordeal was over she would belong to Harmon--body and soul.
THREE
Hans Spier awoke with a start.
He'd had a good workout the night before.
Although he had only had a few hours sleep, he felt like a new man.
He showered, rinsed his teeth with the Water Pic and dressed for the office; then he decided to look in on Marcie.
She was sleeping like a baby. Her blonde hair was spread around the pillow.
The silk stockings encircled her wrists and ankles.
She was going to make an excellent slave, Hans thought.
She had passed her first two lessons last night.
He was tempted to stay home this morning and give her another lesson.
But he'd let Hilda handle her today.
After all Hilda was his sister, and they shared everything ...
Marcie was disappointed when she woke up.
She was all alone in the bed.
She was still tied to the bedposts, but Hans was gone.
She had no idea what time it was or even where she was.
Then she realized that there was someone else in the room. A tall blonde woman was staring down at her. She must have been watching her while she was asleep.
"I'm Hilda," she announced in a deep voice. "My brother Hans told me to take good care of you."
Hilda was wearing a sheer black caftan and Marcie could see that she was very well built.
The outlines of her voluptuous body were silhouetted through the almost transparent cloth.
"My brother has gone to the office today," she continued. "Hans is a dentist, you know."
Marcie was relieved to learn that she was not alone in the house.
"It feels strange to be tied to a four-poster bed in a strange house and not to know where you are," she confided in her hostess.
Hilda was tall and blonde and had green eyes, like her brother. She did not smile.
"You are in my house," she said calmly. "I share it with my brother. We share everything."
There was something about that remark that filled Marcie with a sense of foreboding.
"Is it possible to have breakfast?" she asked her hostess. "I haven't eaten since last night and I'm starved."
"Of course," Hilda answered. "But you can't come to breakfast like that. You're totally naked. Here, put this on."
The older woman tossed her a lacy black nightie.
"I'm afraid I can't put that on, I'm still tied up," Marcie pointed out.
"Of course," Hilda acknowledged. She released Marcie from her bonds and allowed her to get off the bed.
Marcie felt good to stand up, even if her legs were a bit wobbly.
Her arms and legs ached from the pain of being tied up all night.
There were red welts on her wrists and ankles.
It was hard to be a sex slave. She felt very weak.
She was weak from fucking Hans all night long.
She was sore from being tied up all night.
She was tired from the entire workout.
And she could hardly wait for Hans to come home so that they could start all over again.
The truth was that she enjoyed being his total sex slave.
The nightie Hilda gave her was pretty but rather skimpy.
Marcie didn't mention it, because she didn't want to hurt her hostess's feelings.
But anyone could see that it was cut so low in front that it exposed the tops of her pale pink nipples.
Her big breasts looked like they could fall out at the slightest encouragement.
The nightie was so short that it barely covered Marcie's blonde pubic bush, not to mention her creamy white buttocks.
At least Hilda let her take off her stilleto heels and scamper about in her bare feet as she followed Hilda downstairs.
Knowing that Hans had such a nice sister made being his sex slave even better.
Marcie hoped that she and Hilda would become good friends.
She would need a friend.
She had a feeling that it was going to be a long time before she saw her best friend, Angela Dearing, again.
"We'll have breakfast outside on the sundeck," Hilda announced as she led Marcie through the sparkling clean kitchen.
Everything in the kitchen was harvest gold, from the refrigerator to the Cuisinart.
The redwood sundeck outside was equally lovely.
It overlooked a garden that was full of flowers and the lawn was lush and green.
Marcie could see that Hans and Hilda must love their house very much.
It was definitely a showplace.
The sun overhead was shining brightly. It was going to be a beautiful day.
On the deck there was a round table with an umbrella in the center, and some white iron cafe chairs.
Nearby were a few director's chairs and a wooden chaise lounge.
There was an electric coffee pot perking on the round table which was covered with a plastic yellow and white checkered tablecloth.
The smell of fresh brewed coffee, mixed with the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass, filled the morning air.
Marcie sat down on one of the wrought iron cafe chairs.
Naturally, the skimpy negligee didn't cover her ass cheeks and so she felt the cold metal of the against her ass.
Hilda poured them each a cup of coffee into steaming mugs.
Hilda's cup had her name written on one side and a smile face on the other.
Marcie's said "Guest" on one side and had a picture of a daisy on the other.
Hilda stared over her steaming coffee cup at Marcie's big knockers.
She admired the size and shape of her Marcie's breasts.
They were nice healthy melons, Hilda thought. Just ripe for picking.
Hilda could see them quite clearly through the sheer black fabric of the skimpy nightie.
She licked her thin lips in anticipation.
Moved by the sight of Marcie's delectable breasts, Hilda rose from the table and came around to Marcie's side.
She stood behind Marcie and began to fondle her breasts.
Marcie turned around and stared at her in amazement.
"No man can satisfy you, can he?" Hilda said as she stared down into Marcie's frightened blue eyes.
Marcie shook her head. She was too frightened to speak.
Tall, blonde, green-eyed Hilda was an imposing figure.
Hilda continued to massage Marcie's breasts with her long, skilled fingers.
Marcie was getting very uncomfortable and to her embarrassment her breasts were clearly responding to Hilda's touch.
She had never thought of getting it on with a woman, but she didn't want to seem rude.
Hilda moved Marcie's chair around and knelt down in front of her.
She pulled down the fragile top of the black nightie.
She began to suck Marcie's breasts, coating the girl's globes with her warm spit.
Marcie responded by putting her arms around Hilda and pressing her head deep into her lush treasure chest.
It was a natural reflex response to Hilda's erotic stimulation.
To her surprise, Hilda pushed her away angrily. She stood up, her face a mask of rage.
"Now you've done it, bitch," she said. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."
Oh no!, Marcie thought.
She was getting an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Would she ever see Hans again?
Would she ever see her best friend Angela again?
Only if she learned her lesson, she realized.
She'd only see them again if she satisfied Hilda.
Marcie's blue eyes widened with fear as she watched Hilda.
The older woman grabbed her fragile wrists and twisted them behind her.
The move made Marcie's heart pound.
She was helpless.
This Amazon was twice her size and she could do anything she wanted to her.
Hilda took up the electric coffee pot.
At first Marcie thought she was going to pour them both another cup of coffee, but Hilda had no such plans.
Instead, she removed the plug at one end from the pot and pulled the plug at the other end from the sundeck outlet.
Then she began to finger the black electric cord lovingly.
"Stand up," she ordered Marcie.
Before Marcie could even think of escaping, Hilda had bound her wrists with the electric cord.
The sun was shining so brightly that Marcie blinked.
"The sun is so strong today," Hilda observed. "You're going to need some protection. Let me put some suntan lotion on you."
"Maybe I should change into my bathing suit," Marcie asked.
She was still wearing the nightie and it didn't seem appropriate for sunbathing.
"Never mind," Hilda answered. "No one can see us. I always sunbathe in the nude out here."
Marcie watched as Hilda slipped off her black caftan.
She was totally naked underneath.
She was in almost as good shape as her brother, with the same long legs and golden skin.
Her big breasts were high and looked very firm. Her nipples were dark red.
"Now you," Hilda ordered. "Take off that thing."
"I can't," Marcie pointed out. "You tied my wrists."
Disgusted with Marcie's helplessness, Hilda yanked the flimsy garment off her.
"Now lie down on the deck chair," she commanded.
Obediently, Marcie lay on her back on the wooden chaise lounge.
Hilda began to massage her with the oil she said was suntan lotion.
Marcie enjoyed the feel of Hilda's skilled fingers on her back as she worked the lotion into her skin.
The more she worked, the more intense her pressure felt on Marcie's skin.
When she finished with Marcie's back and shoulders she ordered her to turn over.
Marcie noticed that Hilda was breathing heavily as she stroked Marcie's creamy white thighs.
The higher up she moved, the better it felt. Between the massage and the sun, Marcie was getting very relaxed. She started to drift off into a semi-dream state.
As Hilda began to fondle her cunt, Marcie moaned with pleasure. When she opened her eyes again she gasped.
"Oh! I was dreaming. I thought you were Hans!" she said.
"No, but it's time we started with your lessons," Hilda said. Hans told me not to waste a minute."
She looked around the sundeck for something to enhance the lesson.
Her eyes fell on a pile of white terry cloth robes on one of the director's chairs.
They were for her guests who used the pool.
But now Hilda had a better use for them, at least for their belts.
She quickly slipped three of the terry cloth belts from their loops and proceeded to tie Marcie to the chaise lounge.
Hilda wrapped one loop around Marcie's wrists and anchored them firmly to the back of the chaise lounge.
It was in a semi-raised position, so that Marcie was practically sitting up and able to see most of what was going on.
This simple piece of deck furniture would be the altar on which Marcie was to experience total sexual humiliation at the hands of Hilda Spier.
Next, Hilda tied Marcie's left ankle to the left leg at the foot of the lounge and her right ankle to the right leg.
Marcie's feet were on the ground, and her legs were spread wide to accommodate the width of the chaise lounge.
Marcie's blonde pussy was totally exposed to Hilda's lustful green eyes.
The older woman leered at her.
Hilda enjoyed the sight of Marcie laying there totally helpless.
The girl's big healthy breasts were exposed to the sun like two ripe cantaloupes.
Hilda sat on the lower half of the chaise lounge, in the space made by Marcie's spread legs.
With her long fingers she began to finger Marcie's golden pussy.
Marcie could feel herself getting wet with fear.
Her hot pussy juice bathed Hilda's probing fingers.
Then Hilda bent over at the waist and began to kiss Marcie's pale pink nipples.
The tip of her tongue licked Marcie's nipples until they were hard and erect.
Chills racked Marcie's body as Hilda sucked on her breasts.
She could feel Hilda's teeth nibbling away at them, but there was nothing she could do about that.
She couldn't push her away because her hands were tied.
And she couldn't escape because she was tied to the chaise lounge.
She was very uncomfortable.
Her back ached. The wooden slats of the chaise lounge gave her no comfort.
Hilda didn't care about Marcie's pain.
She found Marcie herself a real turn-on.
Her fingers continued to play with Marcie's pussy. It felt warm and wet.
With her index finger, Hilda separated the pink pussy lips and began to probe further.
Marcie reacted immediately to the invasion of Hilda's finger.
Soon her red painted fingernails were dripping with Marcie's hot honey.
Hilda knew exactly what she was doing. She was looking for Marcie's little pink clitoris. And she found it.
As soon as he felt Hilda's touch on her magic button, Marcie groaned.
She closed her eyes and began to breathe heavily as Hilda's finger pressed harder against it.
As Hilda played with her clit, Marcie's breasts heaved.
She thrashed about on the chaise lounge, but she couldn't do any more than that because she was tied too tightly.
The more she rocked, the more her bonds hurt her wrists and ankles, but Marcie didn't care.
The pleasure she was getting from Hilda was almost more than she could bear.
She arched her back slightly to give Hilda easier access to her clit, but even that wasn't very much, because she was tied down so tightly.
Hilda worked another finger into Marcie's hot wet pussy, then another.
Marcie's dripping cunt walls closed around them.
Marcie was really hot now, but the more she responded, the tighter her bonds felt.
The electric cord on her wrists and the white terry cloth ropes that held her wrists and ankles chafed cruelly against her tender flesh.
Obviously, Hilda and her brother Hans did not believe in using fabric softener, Marcie reflected.
But Marcie's musings were soon cut brutally short.
Hilda started to pinch Marcie's nipples between her fingers. She pinched them hard. "Ouch," Marcie cried.
Tears filled her big blue eyes and drops of ice cold sweat formed on her forehead. The oil on her body gleamed in the hot sun.
Hilda kept one hand on Marcie's cunt, her fingers actively exploring inside.
They were soaking in Marcie's love juices by now. She knew Marcie was ready to come.
Suddenly she pulled her hand away from Marcie's throbbing hot pussy.
Marcie stared up at Hilda's cruel face.
Her pink pussy lips still twitched, although there was no longer anything there to stimulate them.
Hilda's hand was dripping with Marcie's honey.
She brought it up to Marcie's mouth and forced her fingers inside it.
Now Marcie's pussy ached as much as the rest of her body, but she tried not to think about it.
She tried to concentrate on sucking Hilda's long, fingers.
She licked and sucked her warm sweet pussy juices off the fingers on Hilda's right hand.
At the same time, Hilda began to use her left hand to keep stimulating Marcie's clit.
Marcie was relieved to feel something in her pussy again.
Maybe being raped by Hilda wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought.
She even tried to help Hilda, but that was impossible, because her hands and feet were bound. All she could do was moan with pleasure.
When Hilda had finished sucking Marcie's breasts, she licked a path down her torso, lingering lovingly on her flat little tummy, then moving on down to her blonde pubic bush.
Since the back of the chaise lounge was in an almost upright position, Marcie was practically sitting upright.
She could see the back of Hilda's blonde head as she moved ever closer to Marcie's main pleasure point.
Hilda was totally concentrating now. She didn't seem to hear Marcie's cries and moans as she neared her throbbing cunt.
Marcie's rosy red cunt lips opened up and welcomed Hilda's hot lips as the older woman plunged her face into Marcie's eager pussy.
She began to stimulate Marcie's clit with the flick of her tongue.
Each time Hilda's hot wet tongue touched Marcie's little pleasure button a surge of intense sexual pleasure engulfed Marcie's entire body.
She went limp.
Even if she wasn't tied up she would have been helpless.
She was so stimulated she was practically numb.
But Hilda's feisty tongue continued moving.
Next she probed Marcie's slit, working in and out of her labia.
Hilda was totally absorbed in the sweet taste of Marcie's hot, wet cunt.
The mildly salty wetness fueled her desire for the busty young blonde. She couldn't get enough of her.
Hilda was in a complete sexual frenzy.
Marcie was spilling out a flood of hot love honey and all over her gleaming white thighs and Hilda's face.
"I'll teach you to be a sex slave," Hilda screamed.
She sucked at the hot cum that poured from her victim's cunt.
There was nothing like the taste of hot, fresh cum.
But Marcie still had not climaxed. Hilda decided on another approach.
"Now it's time for you to do some work," Hilda announced.
She adjusted the positioning ratchet of the deck lounge and moved the back so that it was totally flat.
That meant that the bonds that restrained Marcie's slender wrists were suddenly loosened.
With the swift movement of a practiced expert, Hilda tightened them.
Next she turned around and positioned herself above Marcie's face.
Marcie stared up at Hilda's blonde bush.
Her neck was held between Hilda's hard and muscular thighs. She could see Hilda's rosy pussy lips, but not much more.
"Don't worry," Hilda said. "I'll tell you what to do."
"All I want to know is how to get out of here," Marcie thought.
It was bad enough to be brought to sexual ecstasy by a dominant dyke, but Marcie had no intentions of making love to Hilda herself.
"Poor Marcie," Hilda purred. "You think you still have a choice in this."
Her voice was soft, but her words filled Marcie with icy terror.
"Don't you understand that you're my sex slave?"
"No, no," Marcie protested. "I belong to Hans."
Hilda only laughed. It was an evil laugh. A laugh filled with crazed sexual lust.
"Sure, you're his sexual slave by night. But during the day you belong to me."
Marcie's blood ran cold.
She had to reluctantly admit that Hilda had given her major sexual pleasure just a few minutes before, but now she was frightened.
"Don't be scared," Hilda said soothingly, as if she had the ability to read Marcie's mind.
That idea really frightened Marcie.
"If you do what I say, you won't get hurt," Hilda said.
Marcie stared up at the big blonde's thick bush. She was trapped. She could not escape.
Her ankles and wrists were still bound to the chaise lounge.
If she wanted to live she would have to submit.
If Marcie ever wanted to see her lover/master Hans again she would have to submit to his evil sex-crazed sister.
Reluctantly, Marcie began to lick Hilda's golden pussy with her tongue. The curly pubic hair brushed against her face.
From her position over Marcie's face, Hilda could look down and see Marcie's lovely blonde pussy.
She closed her eyes as she felt her poor prisoner's tongue against her pussy.
Hilda bent down and began to explore Marcie's pussy with her tongue.
She didn't feel the least bit guilty about raping her brother's lover.
She was too crazed with hot lesbian lust.
Next, Hilda slipped her hands under Marcie's shapely, plump ass and began to work her thumb up Marcie's anus.
Marcie's hot oiled body writhed under Hilda's unwanted attentions.
"That's it," Hilda encouraged. "Now give me more tongue.
Marcie had never actually seen a woman's cunt up close, except for her own. This was a completely different point of view.
She ran her tongue tentatively over Hilda's labia. Hilda's pink pussy lips began to twitch and throb.
Her cum dripped down Marcie's face, but Marcie couldn't even wipe it away because her hands were still bound with the electric cord.
All Marcie could do was apply her tongue to Hilda's hungry cunt.
The older blonde moved up and down on Marcie's face until her clitoris made contact with Marcie's tongue.
Marcie felt the tough little love muscle and heard Hilda groan.
"That's it, slut," Hilda gasped.
She moved her own fingers up into her vagina, coating them with her free-flowing love juices until she came in a great shivering spasm.
Hilda's cries of orgasm terrified Marcie.
She shivered with fear as the older woman buried her face even deeper into Marcie's pussy.
Marcie gasped and her whole body jerked. Her back arched.
The sound of her involuntary response encouraged Hilda.
She worked another finger into the girl's anus, while she continued licking Marcie's pussy with her nimble tongue.
Hilda wanted to bring Marcie to a climax.
She nuzzled the golden pubic hairs that were dripping with Marcie's pussy juice while she tried to think of how to do it.
"There's only one thing that will satisfy you, isn't there?" Hilda screamed. "You've got to be penetrated!"
"You've got to feel a hard, rigid prick between your legs! Right?" Hilda roared.
But it was the mid-afternoon, Hilda reminded herself.
Hans was at his dental office, drilling away. He wasn't available to drill Marcie.
Vainly, hungry Hilda looked around for a substitute.
Then she noticed a pile of garden tools at the edge of the sundeck.
The lazy gardener hadn't remembered to put them away.
Hilda made a mental note to thank him.
When Hilda got up off of her face, the afternoon sun hit Marcie with the force of a bolt of lightning.
She blinked at the shock.
Her whole body ached from her bonds.
The wooden chaise lounge was incredibly uncomfortable.
She was probably getting a sunburn.
But the worst thing was that she was the sexual prisoner of a crazed dominatrix.
What new torments was Hilda cooking up, she wondered.
She could barely turn her head, but she struggled to watch the big blonde as she moved to the edge of the sundeck.
Hilda was examining a pile of garden tools.
She was looking for something she could use. Soon she found it. It was a small gardening trowel.
Hilda had no intention of shoving a towel up Marcie's cunt. She wasn't that cruel.
Besides, she knew her brother Hans would kill her if she seriously hurt his new sex slave.
But the shovel had a wooden handle, about twelve inches long.
It was as thick as a man's prick.
Maybe even a little thicker.
It was definitely thick enough to do the job of satisfying Marcie.
Hilda began to suck the handle thoughtfully while she pondered her next move.
Soon the handle was coated with her saliva. It felt good to have it in her mouth.
Then she remembered the baby oil.
She grabbed it and began to lubricate the wooden shaft.
"What are you doing?" Marcie gasped as she eyed the gardening instrument.
She didn't like the evil look in Hilda's green eyes one bit.
"I'm getting ready for you, bitch," Hilda sneered. "This is what you want, isn't it?"
"No, please, don't," Marcie begged. "I'll do anything you want."
"Then you'll take this up your cunt," Hilda laughed.
There was nothing Marcie could do. Hilda moved closer to the chaise lounge and stood over her. The well-oiled towel handle gleamed in the hot sun.
Marcie's pussy began to ooze with fright.
The love juice trickled down her thigh.
Hilda watched one little drop as it crept down Marcie's soft white skin.
She decided to wait until that tiny drop of pussy juice reached Marcie's knee.
Then she would strike.
She really enjoyed prolonging Marcie's agony.
After careful thought, Hilda decided that in order to get maximum penetration she would have to adjust Marcie's bonds.
She had no intention of releasing her little love slave. She was too cruel for that.
She first untied Marcie from the chair, but was careful to keep her wrists tied together with the electric cord.
Then she pulled Marcie down to the edge of the deck lounge so that her ass was on the edge of the chair.
Next, she pulled Marcie's legs back over her so that Marcie was bent in half.
Her pink pussy lips were exposed to the sun and to hungry Hilda.
To Hilda they looked like they could almost talk.
They were begging to taste the handle of the shovel.
They seemed to know it made the perfect dildo, even if Marcie herself did not understand that yet.
Total fear and panic filled Marcie's eyes. Her pretty face was white with terror.
She tossed her pretty blonde head from side to side, but hard-hearted Hilda paid no attention.
Hilda slowly forced the wooden shaft up Marcie's quivering vagina.
She did it very slowly.
She didn't want to kill Marcie.
She'd already made that mistake once.
Against her will, Marcie's vaginal walls yielded to the wooden invader.
Her free flowing love juices made it easy for the handle to slip in deeper and deeper, until she suddenly felt a stab of icy pain.
The cold steel of the shovel had hit her pubic mound. It could go no further.
Hilda was soon in a frenzy at the sight of Marcie thrashing about.
She moved the slippery tool in and out of her poor slave's battered pussy.
Hilda's enthusiasm and excitement built as Marcie's pain and degradation deepened.
The intense heat of the afternoon sun, and this sexual ordeal were too much for Marcie.
Everything turned velvet black as her poor mind went blank.
FOUR
When Harmon Yokel woke up he was delighted to find that his sexual interlude with Angela Dearing had not been just some outrageous erotic dream.
It was the real thing.
The proof was that Angela still there.
After their bout the night before, he had untied her and allowed her to sleep in Marcie's bed.
The room was hot and stuffy and Angela's thick frizzy black hair was matted with sweat.
Angela was too exhausted to try to escape.
Harmon had awakened with a healthy hard-on and the sight of slutty Angela stirred his erotic juices even more.
Harmon watched his sleeping beauty with interest.
Her thick black hair was spread over the pillow. It was wet and curly from the heat and strands of it stuck to her face.
There was a black and blue bruise forming on her chin where he had hit her last night.
Otherwise, her face looked very calm, like she was having a very good dream.
She was totally naked and Harmon had to admit she had a good body even if it was a little too short and voluptuous for his taste.
He preferred the long lean women in the magazine pictures or like Marcie Dempster, but sometimes a man had to make do.
Angela was sleeping on her back, so that her big boobs pointed directly up at the ceiling.
He had generously untied her macram' bonds so that she could get a good night's rest.
There were still red scratchy marks on her wrists and ankles where the ropes had been.
And her right hand was between her legs!
The slut was playing with herself in her sleep!
Harmon stared at Angela as she diddled her bushy black pussy.
Her fingers moved frantically and she was breathing fast.
It looked like she was having some sexy dream.
Well, he was about to make the poor slut's dreams come true.
He was going to give her a real man.
"Wake up bitch," he yelled.
Angela had been in the middle of a wonderful dream about being on the road with Van Halen and when she opened her big brown eyes she fully expected to be looking into the eyes of David Lee Roth.
Instead of that, she was amazed to be looking into the eyes of Horrible Harmon.
During the night she had managed to convince herself that the whole awful interlude had just been some kind of nightmare.
It was the kind of joke that that she and her best friend Marcie would have a good laugh about.
Imagine, being sexually overpowered by Marcie's creepy landlord! And liking it!
Now that Angela was awake and looking up into the shifty eyes of Harmon Yokel she knew it wasn't a nightmare at all.
This was reality!
Surely the only thing worse than going to bed with Harmon was having to admit that she'd actually had an orgasm with the creep! He leered down at her.
Little bits of drool dripped from the corners of his mouth.
He licked his lips at the sight of her.
"Good morning," she said politely.
"Good morning, slut," he responded. "Are you gonna sleep all day, you lazy pig?"
Angela wanted desperately to go back to sleep, but there was no escape from Harmon.
Besides, she needed him to help her find Marcie. Her best friend was still missing.
Angela's plump white thighs were spread apart so that Harmon had a good view of her wet pink pussy behind the thick black thatch of pubic hair.
Her big wet pink and purple cunt glistened with sexual heat.
No wonder Angela was such a hot bitch, Harmon thought.
With an outsize cunt like that she almost had to be.
The poor slut couldn't help herself.
She probably couldn't go one hour without having something shoved up that cunt, Harmon thought.
If she couldn't get a guy's cock, she would probably settle for anything.
If he wasn't there, she'd probably be shoving a cucumber, or a carrot, or some rubber dildo up her cunt.
The poor bitch would probably even shove a soda bottle up herself if she had to.
Lucky for her, Harmon thought, that he was in charge now.
He would decide when it was time for her to get a hot hard prick shoved up her cunt and it would be his.
These morning reflections had given Harmon himself a healthy hard-on.
The sight of slutty Angela with her big tits laying there on the bed made him extremely hot.
He stared at her open thighs.
"What are you looking at?" she demanded.
"Still with the smart mouth, Angela?" he said. "Didn't I teach you a lesson last night?"
Angela's brown eyes widened.
But she was helpless.
He was in total command.
Harmon Yokel leaned over the bed and began to suck on one of Angela's plump tits.
He had one of her big dark brown nipples which were the size of Ritz crackers between his teeth and took a bite.
Angela screamed at the pain.
"You hungry slut," Harmon said.
Angela groaned and bubbles of spit oozed from her lips and dribbled down her chin.
Harmon paid no attention to Angela's cries. "Stop it, Harmon," she moaned. "I can't stand this.
"Shut up," he ordered. "I'm busy."
"Don't tell me to shut up," she retorted. "Nobody talks to me that way."
Harmon had had enough backtalk.
He was going to have to shut her up before she went too far.
He found the macram' cords he had used on her the night before.
"Oh, no, Harmon," she screamed when she saw them. "Don't tie me up again."
"I'll do whatever I want," he responded.
He ordered her to get on her knees in the bedroom floor and he tied her wrists together behind her. Her ankles too were bound.
She was in the Islamic prayer position, facing towards Mecca.
Mecca in this case being Harmon's love log.
"This is giving me cramps, Harmon," she whined.
She was still bitching about it when Harmon grabbed her by her thick black hair and held her face to his rigid cock.
As Angela stared at the throbbing tool her brown eyes widened with fear.
She was fascinated by the pulsating blue veins that curled up the rigid shaft.
The huge rod looked like some dangerous missile. Which it was.
"That's it! Harmon's guided missile!" he said proudly.
He pushed her head closer so that she could feel the heat of his blood-filled member.
His coarse pubic hairs brushed against her face.
"And you want it, don't you baby?" he yelled. Angela was really afraid now. "Please Harmon," she pleaded. Harmon paid no attention. "Lick it," he ordered.
She reluctantly caressed it with her nimble tongue.
Angela had no choice. He was in charge now. She had to obey.
She let her tongue roam around the rigid shaft, over and around his swollen balls.
She took one of his balls in her mouth, running her tongue over it.
But Harmon was getting impatient.
He pushed his big boner against her trembling lips and forced his way into her mouth.
Her lips closed over the helmet head of his rigid cock.
"That's it," Harmon encouraged her. "You got it."
Angela couldn't speak, her mouth was full of pulsating, rock hard cock.
She had never imagined that one man's cock could stretch her poor jaw so.
She could hardly breath.
Her mouth worked its way up and down while Harmon's huge swollen tool hit the back of her throat.
She gagged.
She thought she was going to die.
"Don't stop now," Harmon yelled.
Angela sucked harder on the rock hard shaft.
His big balls slapped against her chin while Harmon pumped like a maniac.
Harmon just kept thrusting his hips against her face, ramming his cock against her tender tonsils.
She sucked the battering ram hard while Harmon fucked her mouth, until she felt him begin to contract, then he exploded, sending a wave of hot creamy cum down her pipes.
"You want it, don't you, bitch," Harmon yelled, as he continued to pound against her throat. "You want me to fuck your mouth."
Angela couldn't answer, her mouth was full of Harmon's swollen cock.
The feeling of his power packed piston started to get her excited.
She worked feverishly, as he moved his slippery tool in and out of her mouth. Hungrily sucking out the very last drop.
"I'm gonna teach you to behave," Harmon insisted.
Angela couldn't help herself. She was getting hot again.
Creamy cum spilled out of her lips and down her chin.
Her pussy was wet and her clit was quivering with hunger.
But when Harmon started to put on his boxer shorts she realized the fun was over.
"What's the matter Harmon?" she demanded.
"Hey, that was great, but I got a job to do," Harmon said.
His voice was filled with new confidence and authority.
Angela watched from the bed as he donned his overalls and work boots.
"Aren't you gonna fuck me, Harmon?" she asked. "After what I did for you! You're not gonna leave me like this are you?"
"I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready," he announced. "I'm the boss now."
Harmon left the apartment, a contented smile creeping over his face.
It felt good to be a master.
It felt good to have a slave.
Being both landlord and super of his garden apartment building, Harmon had a number of chores to complete before he could take Angela looking for her missing friend Marcie.
Actually, he was becoming just as concerned about Marcie's mysterious disappearance and he was just as anxious as Angela to find her.
After all, he didn't want his building to get a bad reputation.
Harmon was very proud of his apartment house. He catered to suburban singles.
He had nurses, stewardesses, aerobics instructors and even an astrologer in the building.
If it were up to him, there would have been only female tenants.
They would all be under twenty-three, but over eighteen, and they would have to have at least a 38C bust.
But in order to attract these bimbos he had to reluctantly rent to a few male tenants as well.
Harmon enjoyed being a landlord.
He didn't even mind emptying the trash.
It gave him an opportunity to keep track of his tenants.
After all, it was important to maintain the high moral level of the building, so it as his responsibility to know what everyone was up to by going through their garbage.
He often found interesting items in the trash.
He took many home for closer examination.
One of his favorites was a book of pictures of women in unusual poses.
Most of the women were very skinny, but a few of them were real porkers.
Some of them wore strange underwear that he had never seen at J.C. Penney or K-Mart. And Harmon had spent many idle hours cruising those marts for feminine dainties, so he considered himself something of an expert.
The women in the book were in many interesting positions.
Until now, Harmon had never had a chance to see if such things could happen in real life.
Now that he had a sex slave of his very own, he was eager to try.
This morning was a particularly productive one, for Harmon came across a long shoe horn, the kind a man or woman might use to don high leather boots.
The shoe horn looked a little like a riding crop. It reminded him of some of the pictures in the book he so admired.
The women in the photographs had been doing many interesting things with their riding crops.
He decided to take the shoe horn with him when he finished his chores and returned to Angela.
By the time Harmon returned he was eager for another bout with his new slave. Just the thought of her thick black hair flying all over the place like it had never been combed and her voluptuous, meaty little body made him hot.
Angela lay waiting for him in the tiny, hot bedroom.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded when she saw him. "I thought you were gonna help me look for Marcie! What kind of shit is this Harmon?"
Angela was really angry. He'd left her tied up for hours and she was tired and hot and her body ached.
It was bad enough to have started the day by giving Harmon a blowjob, she thought, but it was downright insulting to have had him walk out on her!
"Don't think you're gonna fuck me now," she yelled. "Not after you left me high and dry."
"Shut up, bitch," Harmon yelled back. "I decide when you get fucked and I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready."
Actually, Harmon was starting to like Angela's fresh mouth. It turned him on.
He loosened her bonds so that she could stand up, but when she tried to get up off her knees she was too weak. She stumbled and held on to him.
He threw her on to the bed and she landed on her back.
Her legs were spread wide apart and her pink cunt lay open to him. And she had the nerve to think she could tell him when he was going to fuck her!
"I get a kick out of you, Angela, I really do," he smiled. He absently mindedly bounced the shaft of the shoehorn against the palm of his hand.
"What's that?" she demanded as soon as she saw it. "It looks like a riding crop."
Harmon said nothing. He only grinned weirdly as he advanced towards the bed.
"No, Harmon," she screamed when she realized what he had in mind. "Please don't hurt me!"
"I'm tired of your smart mouth, Angela," he said calmly. "You've got to learn who's boss now."
He took the shoe horn and began to crack it against her lush thighs.
CRACK! SLAP! A hot stinging wave of pain washed over Angela's body.
With each blow her screams grew louder.
It was a good thing there was no one home in the building during the day, Harmon thought, or he would have a lot of explaining to do.
"That's how I treat sluts," he yelled as he brought the chrome and leather rod down again and again.
He was really getting into it.
"Harmon, it hurts. Stop! You're killing me!" she screamed.
The sound of Angela's cries as the cold metal and leather slapped against her skin really turned him on. Her white thighs turned bright pink as he hit them again and again.
Angela was writhing with the stinging pain, but she could feel herself getting turned on too.
What was it about this guy that brought out the heat in her?
Her cunt was beginning to flood with love juice. She knew she'd never be satisfied until he came inside her.
"Fuck me, Harmon," she pleaded. "I want to feel your hard cock inside me. Don't keep me like this."
"How much do you want it?" he yelled.
He reached up into her cunt, drenching his fingers in her love juices and then coating the rounded leather end of the shoe horn.
Next he slipped it into her pussy, pushing it so high he was afraid he was going to lose it!;
Angela gyrated in excitement as she felt the force of the leather enter her and her hips began to hump the rod.
She started to scream as the sound of her coming filled the room.
Now Harmon himself started to get into it.
He couldn't let Angela think that the shoe horn was a better fuck than he was.
Tossing aside the shoe horn, he quickly got out of his overalls and work boots and jumped on top of her, ramming his own rigid rod up her soaking hot pussy and sending her into another spasm of orgasm.
They began to move together, rocking hard, their sweat-slicked bodies banging together and Angela's moans filling the room.
"Oh, Harmon," she screamed. "You're the boss. You're the best. I just wanna be your slave."
FIVE
When Marcie awoke she was lying on an orange fuck carpet.
She was totally naked except for the little gold earrings in her pierced ears.
She was hot and sticky from her afternoon in the sun and her long blonde hair was still damp and matted with sweat.
Marcie's wrists were still bound with the electric cord.
Her ankles were tied with the bathrobe belts.
Her head was spinning and she wasn't exactly sure how she had gotten there.
She hardly remembered the episode on the sundeck with Hilda Spier.
She hardly remembered her terrific night with Hans.
But now that she thought of him she really missed Hans.
In fact, just thinking about getting laid by Hans was making her hot again.
Her blonde pussy began to twitch at the thought of welcoming Hans' thrusting rod once again.
At least that proved she was still alive. But Hans wasn't around right now. And the house was very quiet. It was so quiet that Marcie could hear herself breathing.
Marcie struggled to figure out what she was doing and how she got there.
Or where exactly she was for that matter.
As her head cleared, she realized she was in the living room of the Spier house.
It had a very modern decor.
There was a big modular sofa covered in black leather and the two side chairs were covered in black leather too.
Instead of a painting over the sofa there was a big tank of tropical fish.
Marcie stared at the brightly colored fishes as they moved through the water.
"I see you like my little fishes," Hilda purred.
"Oh, hi Hilda, I didn't notice you there," Marcie said softly.
She got the feeling that Hilda had been watching her for some time.
The sight of Hilda made her a little sick and very nervous.
Unlike Marcie, Hilda was dressed to go out.
She was wearing a typical suburban sundress.
It did nothing to hide her sensational body but it wasn't especially sexy.
She was wearing flat sandals and a big sunhat.
She looked like any typical suburban matron on her way to lunch at the country club.
Marcie started to remember some of the events that had occurred that afternoon.
She started to get a sick feeling in her stomach when she remembered that she had been raped by Hilda.
"Some of those fishes are piranhas, you know," Hilda smiled. "They can make short work of bad little girls."
A shiver of fear ran through Marcie's body.
"Please, Hilda, I'd like to go home now," Marcie pleaded.
"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Hilda answered. "You'll just have to wait until Hans gets back."
Marcie's eyes followed her nervously as the older woman moved towards the far corner of the room where there was a white globular lamp the size of a beach ball hanging on a chain from the ceiling.
Hilda removed the lamp from the chain and attached Marcie's wrists to it.
"I've got to get you ready for Hans now. He'd never forgive me if you weren't here when he got home," Hilda insisted.
The hanging chain wasn't quite long enough, so Marcie's feet didn't quite reach the floor, even standing on tippy toes.
Marcie was totally naked and her long blonde hair was a mess.
"Can't I at least brush my hair?" she pleaded. "I wouldn't want Hans to see me like this."
"When I say so," Hilda insisted. She really enjoyed seeing Marcie suffer.
"I'm going to the mall for some groceries," Hilda announced as she went out the door. "If you're a good girl we'll talk about letting you go when I get back."
Marcie hung there for several hours, wondering what would happen next.
What could happen next?
She hoped that Hilda would never come back.
She hoped Hans would come home soon.
She hoped he would fuck her when he did come home.
She wanted to feel his big hard cock in her soft wet pussy.
She wanted to feel the power of his hot prick. She wanted him to come inside her. Marcie wanted to satisfy Hans. She wanted to be his total sex slave. If he wanted to fuck he cunt, she had to allow him.
If he wanted to fuck her ass, she had to allow him.
If he wanted to come in her mouth, she had to let him and love it.
If he wanted to spatter his creamy jism all over her face, she had to let him.
Only she didn't want to be raped by his sister again.
As far as she was concerned, that was asking too much, even for a sex slave.
The hours passed slowly as Marcie hung there. She lost all sense of time.
All she was conscious of was the strain on her arms as she hung from the chain and the heat in her pussy as she thought about fucking Hans.
"Yoo hoo, the doctor is in!" Hans shouted when he came home later that afternoon.
It was his idea of a joke and he always said it when he came through the door in a good mood.
And Hans was in a very good mood.
Two root canals and one extraction had heightened his pleasure threshhold and he looked forward to exploring new sensations with Marcie this evening.
Hans entered through the garage door that led into the kitchen.
There he saw the note Hilda had left for him on the refrigerator door.
It was attached to the door with a magnate shaped like a chocolate kiss.
That was a little joke between Hans and his sister.
As a dentist he disapproved of sweets.
"Dear Hans," the note said. "I've gone grocery shopping at the mall and then to a zoning board meeting. I'll be home late. Don't wait up."
He was not disappointed to learn that he and Marcie would have the evening to themselves.
He was even more delighted when he entered the living room to see that Hilda had left Marcie hanging.
Marcie was totally naked and he could see every aspect of her great body. Her big bouncy knockers. Her firm and plump ass. Her long, sexy legs and her bushy blonde pussy.
He loosened his tie and tossed his the jacket to his suit over a nearby armchair.
"Have you been a good little sex slave, Marcie?" he asked.
"Yes, Hans," she answered. "But I missed you."
"Good. I'm sure Hilda's taught you a lot today." He looked around the quiet room.
"And now you and I can spend some time alone."
"Are you going to let me down now?" she asked. Her legs and arms ached.
She'd been hanging from that hook for hours.
"Not yet, Marcie. I've had a hard day. I'd like to unwind," he said. "Would you like a drink?"
Mostly, Marcie thought, I'd like a fuck.
But she kept her thoughts to herself.
She understood that nobody wanted to hear a sex slave's thoughts.
"I'd like some white wine," she said.
"Excellent idea," Hans agreed.
Marcie watched as he poured one glass of wine.
He held it to her mouth and let her sip.
A little bit dribbled out and down her chin and that made Hans angry.
"Not too much, bitch," he ordered. "I don't want you getting drunk on me."
He took the glass back and finished it off.
"Now it's time for a little discipline," he announced with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
He pinched her pale pink nipples until they turned bright red.
"Ouch, Hans, don't do that," Marcie squealed.
"Don't tell me what to do," he answered.
"But it hurts Hans!" she whined.
"That's the idea!" he said as he removed the belt from his pants.
It was a thick white leather belt with two heavy gold Gs for a buckle.
"I can see that you need some more training, Marcie," he said as he raised the belt in the air and cracked it against her ass.
"Ooooh," she screamed.
The force of it sent her spinning on the hook.
A stinging wave of pain swept through Marcie's body.
She writhed and twisted, stretching even more, as she turned slowly in the air.
CRACK. CRACK. The white leather slapped up and down Marcie's skin until her entire body was bright red and throbbing with pain.
Her screams echoed through the empty house.
The more she screamed, the more excited Hans got.
Marcie noticed the bulge of his erection straining against the crotch of his pants.
"You're a hot little whore, aren't you?" he yelled. "You're a bad little girl and you need some training."
He flicked the leather belt across her body as she trembled with each new blow.
Her round tits bounced with each new paddle and the rosy nipples pointed at Hans accusingly.
In spite of the pain, Marcie was getting so excited she could hardly stand it. Her body was on fire and her blonde pussy oozed sex cream down her stinging, red thighs.
He finally let her down from the hook, but her wrists and ankles were still bound.
He let her lay there on the orange fuck rug while he decided where he was going to fuck her.
Finally he threw her over the coffee table.
It was a long rectangle shape and he laid her body over the length of it.
Hans tied each of her wrists to a leg, and left her legs hanging over the edge, spread-eagled.
Her wet pink pussy lips lay open and waiting for him.
Marcie watched as he began to remove his trousers and shirt.
He tossed them over one of the black leather chairs.
He wasn't wearing any underwear and was totally naked underneath.
"How do you like that for a party pole?" he demanded.
Marcie gasped at the size of his penis. It was far bigger than she remembered it.
"What's the matter?" he said. "Don't you recognize your old friend?"
"Gee," Marcie answered. "How could I forget something like that? I must have been very drunk last night."
All day she'd been thinking about his cock, but the reality was even bigger and thicker than she remembered.
But she didn't have much time to stare at it because Hans quickly seated himself over her and rammed his rigid cock into her mouth.
Marcie was so hungry for his prick that she took the whole length at first thrust, until she could feel his throbbing cockhead hit the back of her throat.
Her pert little nose was buried in his coarse pubic hair.
"Suck it hard, Marcie" he ordered.
Marcie obeyed, drawing his cock into her mouth and swirling the warm velvety tip with her tongue.
Hans began to pump his hips wildly, driving his rod into the back of her throat again and again.
Just as he was about to come, he pulled out his pulsating rod and sprayed her face with his salty cum.
His white cream frosted her face and lips and hair.
Then he let Marcie finish him off, sucking him dry.
"What about me?" Marcie whined when Hans got up and she realized it was over.
"What about you?" he repeated. "Later for you. You're my sex slave now and I'll take care of you later.
"I'm begging, Hans, I'm begging you to fuck me," Marcie pleaded.
But it was no use, Hans was already pouring himself another glass of wine and making plans for dinner.
SIX
Harmon Yokel was in an especially good mood.
He generously agreed to take Angela home to her own house to change her clothes.
It was a very hot, sunny day.
There was no air conditioning in Angela's tiny bungalow and Harmon's heaving sweating made his Twisted Sister T-shirt stick to his skin.
"Now you make yourself comfortable, darling," Angela purred.
By now she was completely infatuated with horny Harmon.
"Hey wait a second," Harmon yelled as Angela headed for her bathroom door. "Didn't you forget something?"
"Oh, yes, darling," she answered. "I should give you a goodbye kiss."
"Fuck kisses, I want a beer," Harmon said impatiently.
"Of course, my sweet," she said.
She raced to the kitchen and brought forth a frosty brew.
"What's this?" he demanded when she handed him a can.
"Why, you asked for a beer, didn't you darling?" she answered.
"Only pussies stop at one can, bitch," he said angrily.
He was beginning to lose patience with Angela.
Was she really as stupid as she was slutty, he wondered.
Angela's big brown eyes lit up with understanding. "Of course, you want a six pack!" she said.
"Congratulations," he said. "Now get your ass out there and bring me a man size six pack."
"I'll do anything to make my man happy," she said as she obediently trotted back to the kitchen and brought forth a fresh six pack.
"That's better," he said, grabbing the pack from her.
He'd already made short work of the first pathetic can she'd brought out, now he started on the new half-dozen.
"Now don't take all day," he snapped. "I've got an apartment house to run."
"I know that darling," she answered. "And I deeply appreciate your helping me look for my friend."
With that, Angela headed for the bathroom to freshen up for the new man in her life.
While he waited for Angela, he took off his T-shirt and overalls to get comfortable.
He didn't wear any underwear, so he was totally naked.
He sat back on the wicker loveseat and gazed around Angela's living room.
Besides the white wicker loveseat, there were several wicker chairs and a wicker coffee table.
There were a couple of ferns in wicker planters. Even the lamps were wicker.
Obviously, Harmon concluded, Angela Dearing was some kind of wicker freak.
There was a pile of magazines on the coffee table and Harmon began to look through them.
He was pleased to discover that one of them was filled with photographs of naked women.
The women were in various poses. Sometimes they were draped over a man, sometimes not.
But they were always draped over a motorcycle.
They caressed each bike lovingly.
Sometimes they sat on top of the bike, like they were prepared to take off with the Hell's Angels.
Sometimes they had their legs spread over the handlebars like they were about to take on twenty Pagans.
Harmon liked the way the girls looked.
Some of them were blondes like Marcie Dempster, some of them were brunettes like Angela and some were redheads.
Some were long and lean but with big boobs like Marcie, and some were short and firm and fully packed like Angela.
They looked like they had been around.
They looked like they really knew how to please a guy.
Some of them had bruises on their faces and legs. A few had tattoos in unexpected places like high up on their inner thighs or on their ass cheeks.
One busty brunette beauty looked like she had a black eye. He was sure that none of them were stuck-up bitches like Marcie Dempster and her friend Angela Dearing.
These girls looked like they knew how to party.
He leaned back among the throw pillows.
He sipped his beer and began to play with his prick as he stared at the biker lovelies and waited for Angela.
Angela really enjoyed taking her bath.
She sank into the pink tub and luxuriated among the bubbles.
She was so tired from her two-day workout with Harmon that she began to nod off. The hot water had her very relaxed.
She was so relaxed that she hardly noticed as the water started to go down the drown leaving her laying in an empty tub.
But meanwhile, Harmon was getting bored.
He was reeling from all those beers.
He needed to take a piss.
"Hey Angela, what's keeping you so long?" he demanded as he walked into the bathroom.
He found Angela laying in the tub, her legs parted slightly, her pussy exposed and pink with anticipation.
Her brown eyes met his.
A strange look came into Harmon's not very attractive face.
His eyes were slightly bleary from the seven beers he had just downed.
Instantly she read his mind.
"Oh, no Harmon, you're not going to piss on me!" she screamed.
"Don't tell me what I'm not gonna do," Harmon answered as he reached for his aching and loaded prick.
"Get ready for a shower of gold," he yelled as he took aim and fired a torrent of piss at Angela, aiming directly at her pussy, but splashing all over her.
The hot steaming flow washed over Angela like a tropical thunderstorm.
"You're crazy, Harmon," she screamed. "You're gonna kill me!"
"Shut up bitch," he yelled back.
But Angela started to get into it as the warmth of Harmon's yellow stream bathed her.
She started to thrash around in the tub, fingering her wet pussy with her fingers.
When the hot flow stopped and only a few yellow drops struggled out of Harmon's cock-head, he grabbed Angela by her thick black hair and pushed her face until her face was in front of his now rigid prick.
"Now suck it!" he ordered.
Angela flicked her tongue over the tip and sucked with savage intensity.
Harmon soon felt the sperm shooting up his shaft faster than the piss did.
He was delighted to feel Angela gobbling up all the gummy wads.
Satisfied and relieved to have shot both his loads, Harmon went back to the magazines in Angela's living room, while Angela went to dress.
She chose a pair of tiny short shorts that hugged her generous ass.
They were a little too tight, so she decided not to bother with panties.
Next, she donned a skimpy halter with could barely contain her big breasts.
She didn't pay much attention to how she dressed.
She was still recovering from her two day sex orgy with Harmon Yokel.
As creepy as he was, he was an incredible fucking machine.
She was his willing sex slave.
It was amazing, she thought.
When they finally found Marcie she was going to be very surprised to learn about Angela and Harmon.
Her best friend and her creepy landlord!
He'd fucked her, ass-fucked her, mouth-fucked her and now he had even golden-showered her.
She could hardly wait for the fun to start all over again.
But meanwhile, they had to find Marcie.
Who knew what kind of danger she could be in?
She raced to the living room to rejoin Harmon.
What a slut, Harmon thought, when he saw her in her tight little shorts and little bitty halter.
At the sight of slutty Angela in her provocative playwear his cock became a steel rod.
He had been without a real woman for years.
Now that he had Angela in his clutches he planned to make up for lost time.
He thought of all the time he had wasted playing with himself and watching Marcie Dempster take baths.
The thought made his blood boil.
And hot blood made Harmon feel sexy.
"Harmon, you can do anything you want with me," Angela announced. "If you'll only help me find Marcie."
"That spoiled bitch," Harmon sneered. "She's probably shacked up with some guy."
"I don't believe it," Angela insisted.
Marcie was her best friend in the whole world.
They talked every day.
Marcie would never disappear for two days and not leave a message.
Angela had no idea that Marcie had become a sex slave.
She was sure her friend was in big trouble. She could be dead, Angela thought. Or worse, she could be held somewhere against her will.
Angela shuddered at the thought.
At first she had suspected Harmon Yokel.
He was such a total pervert he seemed like a potential rapist.
Marcie had told her about the time she found Harmon playing with himself in her bedroom.
Marcie was sure that Harmon had stolen her favorite pair of sexy black lace panties, but she couldn't prove it.
Angela believed that Harmon was the pantie thief, but she didn't think Harmon knew where Marcie was.
So where was she?
Angela insisted that Harmon drive her all over the town of Carsons Corners, looking for Marcie's blue Toyota.
Finally, as they were driving down Remsen Street, she spotted it!
"Look over there, Harmon!" she screamed. "In that driveway!"
Harmon looked at the driveway of a tidy split level house. He was unimpressed.
"So it's a blue Toyota," he said. "Lots of people have blue Toyotas."
"I'm sure it's Marcie's," Angela insisted. "I recognize the plastic daisy on her aerial." They parked at the curb and stared at the house.
It was one of the neatest on the block.
It was sparkling white and had blue shutters on the windows.
The window boxes were overflowing with brightly colored petunias.
The lush green lawn was perfectly manicured.
How could such an innocent looking house have anything do do with the mysterious disappearance of Marcie Dempster?
They both knew there was only one way to find out.
"You go in," Harmon said.
"I'm afraid to go in alone," Angela whined. "I don't know what to expect."
They argued for several minutes until Harmon gave in.
"All right," he said.
He reluctantly got out of the car and followed Angela's bouncing ass up the tidy walk that led to the front door.
The welcome mat at the door said "Hello Neighbor" and a big pot of red geraniums sat on the front porch.
When Marcie pressed the doorbell the sound of "My Way" rang through the house.
To Angela's surprise, a fat, friendly looking man answered the door almost immediately.
He looked like Santa Claus with a shave and a haircut.
He looked like her dad.
He looked like her favorite teacher from high school!.
Because he was!
He was Mr. Fogarty, her high school civics teacher.
Mr. Fogarty was wearing an old sweatshirt that said Carsons Corners H.S. on it.
He carried the folded newspaper he had been reading in his hand.
"Why Angela Dearing," he said. "How good to see you again. "Have you come to visit your old teacher?"
"Not exactly," Angela admitted. "I'm looking for Marcie Dempster."
Mr. Fogarty could hardly hide his happiness at meeting his former student again.
How he loved having Angela in his class.
He had spent many happy hours staring at Angela's healthy girlish breasts.
He invited them into his living room.
He sat on the sofa, next to Angela, with his newspaper in his lap.
Harmon relaxed in the Barcalounger where he had a good view of the mural of Venice on the wall over the sofa.
A collection of Mrs. Fogarty's bowling trophies was on top of the television console along with a pipe rack for Mr. Fogarty's pipes.
Yes, Mr. Fogarty recalled, Marcie Dempster and Angela Dearing were both naughty girls.
And he could see that Angela was still a saucy student.
He ached to give her more lessons.
Angela still had so much to learn.
And he had so much to teach her.
Especially while Mrs. Fogarty was away at a bowlers' convention in Las Vegas.
"Would you kids like some Fresca?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful," Angela said politely.
Harmon just grumbled. He understood that he wasn't going to get anything better from Mr. Fogarty.
Mr. Fogarty served his surprise guests their cold drinks and listened carefully as Angela told him all about Marcie's disappearance.
"And then we spotted her blue Toyota in your driveway," Angela concluded.
"Oh, that," Mr. Fogarty shrugged. "You know, I've been wondering who left that car there."
He explained about the little barbecue he'd given while his wife was out of town.
"Yes," he admitted. "I saw Marcie there. I guess she got lucky and left with some guy."
"But she's been gone two days!" Angela exclaimed.
"Maybe she got very lucky," he leered.
Harmon started to fidget.
He scratched his crotch.
He was getting bored.
He wanted to fuck Angela or at least go look for Marcie.
He didn't want to waste his afternoon talking with Angela's fat-assed old high school teacher.
"Do you know she left the party with?" Angela pleaded. "It's very important that we talk to him."
Mr. Fogarty caressed the bowl of his pipe and looked thoughtful.
To tell the truth, he didn't remember much about that night.
He'd ended up in a sandwich with two girls from Farmingdale High School.
A rival school!
But he couldn't bring himself to tell Angela about that.
He was afraid his former student would lose all respect for him.
"Actually, I went to bed early myself," he said which was more or less the truth. "But I do believe I saw Marcie Dempster leave with Hans Spier."
"Hans Spier?" Angela repeated. The name meant nothing to her.
"He's the new dentist in town," Mr. Fogarty explained. "He lives in a beautiful ranch house on the North Side. But you can't suspect he has anything to do with Marcie's disappearance, can you? He's very respectable."
"I just want to know when he last saw Marcie," Angela insisted.
"Very well," Mr. Fogarty smiled patiently.
He took up a pad and wrote something on it, tore off the paper and handed it to Harmon.
"There you are, Harmon," he said. "You let us know what you find out when you go there."
Harmon got up to leave.
Angela's heart started beating wildly.
She never thought she'd be sorry to see Harmon go, but all of a sudden she was.
She noticed that Mr. Fogarty was getting a very strange look in his eyes.
"Wait, Harmon, I'm going with you," she yelled. Her voice quaked and her knees trembled, as she rose from the sofa.
But she was too slow for Mr. Fogarty.
She felt his hand on her right shoulder.
He held it in an iron grip.
"Oh, no, my dear, it could be dangerous," he insisted.
His voice was warm and dripping with honey, but his hand felt like ice cold steel.
Angela was suddenly terrified.
She had an awful feeling that Mr. Fogarty was a lot kinkier than Harmon.
He was sure a lot smarter.
Stupid Harmon fell for the trap.
He quickly agreed to leave Angela there in the house.
He was leaving her completely at the mercy of Mr. Fogarty!
She watched as Harmon walked out the door.
As the door shut behind him a shiver went thought her.
She trembled at the fate that awaited her at the hands of Mr. Fogarty.
All the time Mr. Fogarty had been carrying his newspaper.
As soon as Harmon was gone he lifted it to reveal his huge naked erection.
Angela stared at his rigid cock.
Mr. Fogarty was obviously very proud of his massive missile.
He beamed with pride as he scratched his scrotal sack and waited for Angela to express her admiration.
"How do you like this?" he demanded to know.
But Angela was too scared to speak.
Her best friend Marcie was missing.
She had been Harmon Yokel's sex prisoner for two days and now he had left her in the clutches of a dirty old man.
And the dirty old man wanted her to. act impressed at the sight of his cock?
On second thought, Angela did notice that his cock was quite impressive.
Her pussy started to twitch as she eyed his tool's power potential.
She knew that looks could be deceiving.
Harmon Yokel looked like a bag of shit, but he was a great fuck.
Angela wondered: If Mr. Fogarty looked like two bags of shit, maybe he was twice as good a fuck as Harmon.
But she pushed the thought away.
The idea of fucking Mr. Fogarty was beyond even her kinky imagination.
The whole idea seemed perverted.
It couldn't possibly happen.
Or could it?
Mr. Fogarty had often dreamed of fucking the nubile and busty young Angela Dearing when she was his student at Carsons Corners High School.
And now fate had dropped her right in his living room.
"I thought he'd never leave," Mr. Fogarty said when Harmon had gone.
He carefully locked the door behind him.
Tears welled up in Angela's big brown eyes.
Her arms and ankles still ached from her ordeal with Harmon.
And now a new ordeal was just beginning.
Angela could see that her tears would have no effect on Mr. Fogarty.
Years of teaching high school civics had hardened his heart to a young woman's tears.
She made one last rush for the door, but Mr. Fogarty slapped her hard across the cheek.
He slapped her so hard that Angela went spinning across the living room floor, banging her head on the mosaic coffee table.
The pain shot through her body, but she struggled to get back on her feet.
"Take off your clothes, Angela," Mr. Fogarty ordered.
Angela's fingers trembled, but she was too frightened to disobey. Mr. Fogarty was twice her size.
Fogarty watched as Angela's fingers struggled to remove her halter.
She was shaking so much that it took her several minutes to get out of it.
Fogarty liked that.
He liked the idea that she was frightened of him.
"There's snow on the roof, but fire in the oven," he crooned, as he undressed himself.
He was much faster than Angela because he was much more enthusiastic.
When Angela saw him naked she was disgusted.
He had skinny legs and a big belly. He was soft and flabby all over, except for his cock.
She had to admit to herself that his cock was impressive.
It was at least ten inches long and very, very thick.
It was the most impressive thing about Mr. Fogarty.
Mr. Fogarty was definitely impressed with Angela. He was definitely hot.
The sight of Angela's naked body was exciting.
It was even better than he'd imagined.
When he was the teacher and Angela was his student, he'd often mentally stripped the busty beauty while she sat attentively in the front row of the civics classroom.
But nature was even better than the fantasy.
Her big round melons with their large brown nipples seemed to be made for him to suck.
First, however, he would have to show Angela who was boss in his house.
"Get over to the stairs,' he ordered.
Angela didn't dare refuse.
She obeyed meekly as he pushed her towards the hallway where a stairs led to the second floor.
Mr. Fogarty paused. He wasn't sure what to do next.
This was a golden opportunity and wanted to make the most of it.
He ordered Angela to stand against the newel post at the foot of the stairs.
Then he removed his leather belt and ran it around Angela's rib cage, just below her big breasts, lashing her to the post.
Angela winced with pain as the belt tightened around her.
Her plump white flesh yielded to the tough black leather.
Her teeth chattered with fear.
Was there to be no end to her humiliation? she wondered.
She could see that Mr. Fogarty was getting really excited.
The sight of her tied to the stairs was turning him on.
"Don't go anywhere," he cackled.
He wanted to tie her up good, but he'd have to find something else to tie her with.
He looked around the tiny hallway for inspiration.
Then he saw Angela's purse. It was a leather shoulder bag with a long leather strap.
He ripped off the strap and began to tie her arms behind the post.
He used the strap to bind her slender wrists.
Angela groaned as she felt the leather dig into her sensitive flesh.
The pain from the leather bonds at her chest and wrists made Angela want to cry.
Her back, pressed up against the wooden post, ached intensely.
She tossed her thick black hair defiantly and glared at Mr. Fogarty with fire in her big brown eyes.
She was angry.
But she was helpless.
She was completely at the mercy of her kinky former teacher.
Her fury only made Mr. Fogarty more excited.
His body was glistening with sweat and he was panting loudly.
He wasn't used to so much physical activity.
Angela struggled against her bonds, but there was nothing she could do.
SEVEN
Harmon took the address Mr. Fogarty had given him and headed for the North Side of town in Marcie's blue Toyota.
The address was in a imagine neighborhood with big houses and lots of trees and lawns.
The kind of houses where anything could happen.
He stopped the car and stared at the house that was his destination.
Now he was sure that Marcie was inside the typical suburban split-level ranch.
She was probably being held against her will by that kinky dentist.
Harmon wanted to rescue Marcie.
He just didn't know how to do it.
He decided to check out the grounds and sneak up on the house.
When he got near a window, he looked inside.
Harmon couldn't believe what he saw.
There was Marcie Dempster, hanging from a hook in what looked liked like the Spier living room.
Her long blonde hair was wet and matted. Her face was streaked with tears. She was totally nude.
There were bruises on the soft white flesh of her back and thighs.
Her little blonde pussy was swollen and dripped pussy juices down her legs.
Harmon stared in awe.
This Dr. Spier really knew how to treat a woman, he thought.
Marcie probably wasn't so stuck up now.
It looked like Dr Spier had knocked some of the starch out of her.
He was training her right.
He would really enjoy meeting this Dr. Spier, he thought, as he stared at Marcie in bondage.
Little did he realize he would have that pleasure very soon.
Standing there staring, Harmon was so totally absorbed that he soon lost all track of time.
He forgot about Angela, whom he'd left at the mercy of that leering Mr. Fogarty.
He forgot that he had promised her he was going to rescue her best friend.
He was totally hypnotized by the sight of Marcie Dempster in bondage.
The way she was, he realized that he could do anything he wanted to her.
She would be totally his slave.
She would have to do anything he told her.
She would suck him on command.
If he wanted to fuck her, she would have to obey.
He could mouth fuck her, ass fuck her, cunt fuck her.
He could fuck her anywhere and anyway he wanted.
He could piss on her and she'd beg for more.
He could order her to lick his ass and she'd thank him for the privilege.
She was his kind of woman.
Harmon was entranced with his new view of Marcie.
He was so excited that he was getting a huge erection.
His big boner strained against his Oshkosh overalls
He scratched his balls, but that didn't help.
He needed fast, fast relief.
The best relief that he could think of would be to have a stuck-up bitch like Marcie Dempster suck him off.
All he had to do was get inside the house and put her to work.
He was pretty sure she was alone in the house.
He had been staring at her for a long time and no one else came into the room.
But Harmon soon learned that he was not alone at all.
Suddenly, he felt the chill of cold hard steel at the back of his neck.
"What do you think you're doing?" a man's voice demanded.
"Are you some kind of peeping Tom?" a woman added.
Harmon's knees started to shake and his whole body trembled.
He was afraid he was going to piss in his pants, he was so scared.
"Now turn around slowly," the man ordered.
Harmon turned around very, very slowly.
If the steel was a gun, he didn't want the kinky couple to blow his head off.
He saw a tall man and woman, both blonde.
They looked enough alike to be twins.
The man had short blonde hair and was dressed casually in a white LaCoste shirt and pants.
The woman had long blonde hair and was wearing a white tennis dress.
Harmon was afraid that if he stared at her too long the man might get angry, but he did manage to see that she had a pretty good body for an older broad.
They were both carrying tennis rackets.
They looked like they could have just stepped out of any country club in America.
"Can't we even go off for a little tennis game in the afternoon without being victimized by intruders?" the man said angrily.
"Now, don't get upset, Hans," his sister soothed him. "I'm sure this man has a good explanation."
She stared at the mound at Harmon's crotch, where his swollen rod strained against the faded denim of his overalls.
It wasn't a look of lust, exactly.
It was more like a look of clinical interest.
"You know, Hans," she said, turning to her brother. "I think this man could be very useful to you."
"Oh, come on, Hilda," he snapped. "The man is a subhuman."
"Exactly. You can use him to test Marcie. If she'll fuck him at your command, you'll know she's your total slave."
Hans paused to consider this.
Marcie had been his sex slave for several days now and he had begun to get a little bored.
This would recharge the relationship.
Of course, she would resist at first ...
Harmon watched the unusual brother and sister.
By now he realized that the cold steel he'd felt at his neck was not the butt of a rifle, but the end of a gardening hoe.
He still wasn't sure however, if he was their prisoner or their guest.
He eagerly followed them inside when they offered him a neighborly cocktail.
They went directly to the living room.
Harmon was very impressed with the decor.
He liked the black leather sofa and chairs and he was delighted with the tropical fish swimming in the wall tank.
Most of all he was pleased to be in the same room with Marcie, even though she was hanging from a chain on the ceiling and didn't seem to notice him at first.
Hilda and Hans sat together on the sofa.
Harmon sat in an armchair where he could look directly at Marcie.
Marcie stared at him blankly.
They sipped the martinis that Hans had prepared for them.
"Say hello to our guest, Marcie" Hans ordered.
She tried to speak, but she only made gurgling noises.
Bubbles of spit foamed at her lips. Harmon still had his hard-on. His cock ached.
He longed to release it from the confines of his overalls, but decided to wait for a cue from his hosts.
"I think Marcie should join us, don't you, Hilda?" the doctor said.
Hilda nodded and rose from the couch.
She skillfully released Marcie from the ceiling hook.
The girl collapsed on the floor.
Her ankles and wrists were still bound.
She wasn't going anywhere, that was clear.
"I think you two have some catching up to do, don't you?" Hans winked.
He rose and took Hilda by the arm.
"Hilda and I will leave you alone a while," Hans said. "We'll be out by the pool. Just holler if you need anything."
The couple in white headed for the pool with the pitcher of martinis.
Harmon was really impressed.
Dr. Spier and his sister had it all.
They had a beautiful home.
They had a swimming pool.
They belonged to a country club.
And they had a gorgeous and willing sex slave.
Marcie watched the whole scene with wonder and mounting anger.
She had agreed to be Hans' sex slave.
She had even been willing to take slave lessons from his sister.
But she had to draw the line somewhere.
Marcie Dempster drew the line at Harmon and she told him so.
"Go home, Harmon," she moaned. "You disgusting voyeur. Go home."
Harmon just stared at her.
She was as feisty as ever.
She was still a stuck up little bitch.
"Maybe it's time I gave you some lessons myself," Harmon announced, dropping his trousers and approaching Marcie boldly, now that they were alone.
She laid on the floor and stared up at him.
Harmon gave a sigh of relief as he freed his manly tool from the restraints of his overalls.
He knelt down so that his cock was at Marcie's eye level.
Her blue eyes widened at the sight of it.
It was twelve inches of throbbing, angry manhood.
She stared at the blue veins that curled up and down the length of the rigid red shaft.
"Lick it," Harmon ordered.
To his amazement, Marcie began to do just that.
Both Harmon and Marcie were new to the kind of mindless, totally conditioned response that they could expect from a well-trained sex slave.
And Marcie was now a total sex slave.
She was completely unable to resist a direct command.
She eagerly began to lick his rod, slowly, caressing it with her hard, nimble tongue.
Pressing his luck, Harmon forced his cock inside her mouth.
She took it willingly.
Harmon gasped.
He closed his eyes.
For years he had fantasized about being sucked off by Marcie Dempster and now it was happening!
She was his sex slave, if only for a few hours.
It was good to have a sex slave.
Then inspiration hit Harmon.
He was dumb, but not stupid.
Here was the woman of his dreams.
Here was the woman he'd had the hots for, for years.
She was the same woman who had lived upstairs from him all that time.
Except that her ego had been crushed, annihilated and totally destroyed.
Now she only lived to serve her master.
He'd be a fool to leave her here.
She was crazy about him, he told himself.
He'd always known it.
Now he could tell for sure.
He could tell from the way she was eagerly servicing his groin.
He decided to make a run for it, and to take Marcie with him.
But first, he had to get rid of this boner.
He pushed Marcie's blonde head away.
The slurping noises stopped.
Marcie looked at him in surprise.
"Don't you want to fuck my mouth?" she asked.
"I'm gonna do better than that!" he answered as he turned her on her stomach.
With her hands tied behind her, her face was nose down in the fuck carpet.
He forced her knees under tummy, so that her soft white ass was in the air.
He loosened the coils on her ankles.
"I'm gonna fuck you, Marcie," he announced.
"Yes," she moaned as she felt his hot prick begin to poke her ass-hole. "Fuck me, Harmon."
Marcie began to squirm as Harmon gripped her hot ass cheeks.
Harmon's hand reached around her and began to stroke her cunt.
His fingers were soon coated with her pussy juices.
All the time his huge battering ram pounded up her ass-hole.
Marcie moved with him.
The pain was intense, but by now she was used to pain.
"Fuck me," she pleaded as Harmon forced his way deeper inside her tight anal canal.
She wanted him to go all the way.
She wanted to be totally ass-fucked.
Marcie forgot about her aching wrists and ankles, she forgot about her sore arms and legs.
She could almost ignore the pain and humiliation of kneeling face down in a tacky orange fuck rug.
She even forgot who was fucking her. It didn't matter.
She just had to have her hole filled at all costs. Her mind was completely sexed out. "That's it!" she screamed. "Drive it deep!" Harmon was gasping and panting like a runaway motor.
He frantically groped her dripping pussy, searching for her clit.
He wanted to make her scream for it.
"I'm gonna come inside you!" Harmon yelled.
"You do that, Harmon honey," she yelled back. "Fuck me long and hard. Shoot your hot come up my ass-hole!"
It made her happy to know that he was going to explode his white, creamy cum inside her ass.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Harmon roared.
He gripped her even more tightly, as the juices of his cock erupted up her rectum and Harmon came in a series of spasms.
Then he sighed.
He felt like a new man.
Marcie Dempster was certainly a new woman. He liked the new Marcie a lot.
When he let go to stand up, her body collapsed on the rug.
She lay there on her stomach, her face covered by her tousled blonde hair.
Harmon stared down at the battered blonde beauty as he pulled on his overalls.
This new, well-trained Marcie was definitely too good to leave behind.
Dr. Spier had done an excellent job of training her, but in his heart he knew that he, Harmon Yokel, was meant to be her true master.
He gently nudged her with his work boot, turning her on her back.
Her hearty melons pointed up at the ceiling.
She stared up at him with blank blue eyes.
"I'm taking you with me, Marcie," he assured her. "You're too good to share."
While Harmon was sperm blasting their house-guest Marcie Dempster, Hans and Hilda Spier were enjoying a long, leisurely stroll around their swimming pool.
Their tennis whites glowed in the moonlight.
Both of them had had several martinis by now and they each had a nice buzz on.
"Tell me, Hans," Hilda asked playfully. "Do you remember who was your first sex slave?"
"Of course," her brother answered.
His green eyes grew misty as he recalled their youthful fun and games.
"It all started with tennis, remember Hans?" she prompted.
He remembered it all very clearly.
They were merely teenagers then, when he introduced Hilda to the pleasures of submission.
The tender crack of his tennis racket against her sweet teenage ass still echoed in his memory.
"You were my first and best pupil," he said.
"How about a fuck for old times' sake?" she asked.
"You know, Hilda, you're just as presumptuous as ever," he said. "I can see that you could use a few more lessons."
Hilda turned pale. Her heart began to pound wildly. Her brother Hans was the only man she truly feared.
"You need to remember who's boss," he continued. "I think you've been getting a little out of control."
Hans picked up his tennis racket.
It was a new lightweight aluminum model, but in Hans' capable hands it still packed a mean wallop.
"Yes, I think it's time you had a refresher course in discipline," he said. "Now get out of that dress."
Hilda lifted the white tennis dress over her shoulders.
She wasn't wearing a bra underneath.
She stood there in just her little white panties.
"Get those panties off, too." he ordered. "And get on your knees."
She kneeled in front of him and began to work on the buttons of his tennis whites.
Soon she had managed to open them all and released his throbbing cock.
Hilda caressed her brother's huge tool, massaging it lovingly.
"Yes, you love it, don't you ? " he shouted.
"I want you, Hans, I want you inside me." she pleaded. "Give it to me. I want to feel your big cock inside my cunt."
"Not yet," he said. "We do it my way."
He looked around for something to keep her under control.
He noticed some twine the careless gardener had left nearby.
He grabbed it and began to rope it around her wrists.
Then he had a better idea.
The pool was surrounded by a cyclone fence.
He pulled Hilda over to the fence.
He made a loose collar from some of the twine and looped it around her neck, then attached it to the fence.
"My little watch dog," he smiled.
"I don't like this, Hans," Hilda protested. "I don't want to be tied up."
"Just shut up and suck this," he ordered.
Hilda stared at his huge red cock.
It looked bigger and scarier than ever before.
"I don't think I can do this, Hans honey," she protested.
"I'm tired of your bitchy moods," he yelled. "Just suck it, sister!"
He grabbed her long blonde and held her head eye to eye with his stiff shaft.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he rammed it with his cock head, gagging her as he began to fuck her mouth.
His coarse pubic hairs scratched her face as his swollen balls slapped against her chin.
Hilda could hardly breathe.
As she sucked furiously, Hans picked up the tennis racket again and began to paddle her back and ass until her white skin turned American Beauty pink.
Obediently, her blonde head descended on his rigid organ, "That's it," he said. "Lick it good."
Hilda's body was vibrating with pain from the pounding of Hans' racket.
She couldn't scream, her mouth was full of Hans' pounding cock.
Hilda felt the rhythmic pounding of his tool as he pile drived into her throat.
Suddenly he pulled away.
She stared at him glassy eyed.
"Aren't you going to come in my mouth?" she asked.
"Not tonight," he said. "We'll try something else."
He took more of the rope and lashed Hilda's wrists to the fence.
Then he came at her with his erect cock.
He threw her legs over his shoulders.
His rigid tool probed her swollen pink pussy lips.
Hilda's whole body quivered with anticipation.
Her pussy ached as he began to pound home.
She closed her eyes as she felt the power of his iron shaft boring into her juicy cunt.
Her hot love juices bathed his cock.
Arching his back, he eased himself out, then, harder and faster, his power drill plunging and out of her tender pussy.
Hilda wanted to grip Hans' hard ass and pull him closer to her, but her hands were tied to the fence.
"Fuck me, Hans," she screamed. "I want your hard driving cock to come deep inside my pussy."
"Who does it better?" he demanded.
"Nobody, nobody but you," she answered. It was an old game they were playing, but somehow it never lost its freshness for the Spier family.
One reason Hilda preferred women was because no man but her brother could ever satisfy her.
His thick cock banged away at the soft pink lips of her pussy, slippery with her love juices.
Soon the heat of that hot summer night and the fire of their own incestuous passion had them both dripping with sweat.
The sexy musky smell of Hilda's body excited Hans even more and it fueled his rigid tool with power that sent it plowing ever deeper into her pussy.
"Fuck me hard, Hans," she screamed.
She could feel him start to come as his body tensed and she looked up into his handsome face which was twisted and red with fury.
"Don't stop, Hans, Honey," she moaned. "Don't stop now."
"Here it comes," Hans roared, as his body went into a spasm and he gave her pussy one last grand thrust until he groaned, sending a geyser of hot thick cum up her cunt.
For a few seconds it was totally quite beside the pool.
In the still tranquility of a country evening all they could hear were the crickets.
"Oh, Hans," Hilda whispered. "You're the best."
"Don't ever forget it," he said calmly. He struggled to his feet.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I've got to check on my other slave," Hans said, and left poor Hilda hanging on the cyclone fence in the darkness of the summer night.
EIGHT
It took all of Harmon's strength to carry Marcie to his waiting car.
He sped out of the Spier driveway like a bat out of hell, leaving a patch of rubber on the pavement of the driveway as he tore down the tree lined suburban streets and hastily made tracks away from the Spier mansion.
He even ran a traffic light.
That wasn't like him at all.
Fortunately, there were no police around or he would have trouble explaining what he was doing with a bound woman in the back seat of his car.
As far as Harmon was concerned, it was a matter of life and death.
"I"m saving your life, Marcie," he assured her. "I'm rescuing you from the clutches of the kinky dentist."
And it really made him mad that the bitch didn't even appreciate his efforts.
Instead of thanking him, she insisted on asking stupid questions.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded to know.
Actually, Harmon felt Marcie wasn't in a very good position to demand anything, since he had hog tied her and thrown her onto the back seat of the car.
"I'm taking you home, Marcie," he explained patiently.
For Harmon the whole thing was like a dream come true.
All those years he had been watching Marcie Dempster from afar and imagining what it would be like to screw the tall busty blonde beauty.
All those nights he lay awake dreaming of Marcie's lucious melons.
Now he knew and the reality was even better than the fantasy.
But this bitch was too good to share!
He wanted to take her back to his apartment house where he could keep an eye on her.
Where he could have her at his beck and call.
He sure wasn't going to share her with Hans Spier or anyone else.
Marcie, however, was still in a state of shock.
She was too surprised and confused at first to understand what was happening.
"What's going on? Why are you kidnapping me?" she cried.
"You crazy cunt," Harmon screamed. "I'm not kidnapping you. I'm saving your life."
Could she be dreaming, Marcie wondered.
Maybe it was only her imagination that she had fucked Harmon, her creepy landlord.
"Tell me I'm dreaming," Marcie moaned.
She was exhausted and her whole body ached.
Her leg muscles were starting to cramp up.
She had been tied up many different ways since meeting Hans Spier, but being hog tied by Harmon Yokel and tossed in the back of his car had to be the most uncomfortable.
She couldn't even lift her head.
Sure, she had been hanging for hours in Hans' living room.
But that pain was worth it because she was doing what Hans wanted.
She wanted only to please and satisfy Hans because he was her master.
Marcie's blonde pussy started to twitch with excitement at the very thought of reuniting with Hans' super-size prick.
"All I ever wanted was to be Hans' sex slave," she moaned. "I just want to get back to my master."
That really made Harmon's blood boil!
Was this the thanks he got for saving her life?
"You stupid bitch," he snapped. "I should've left you there, hanging from the ceiling like some kind of chandelier."
He was so angry that he forgot to concentrate on where he was driving.
By the time he put his mind back on the road he realized they were lost.
They had left the neat suburban homes of Car-sons Corners behind and were driving along a bumpy dirt road.
There were no street signs, no street lights and no people.
Then the car started to make funny noises and bounce wildly up and town, tossing Marcie all over the back seat.
"Ouch! Watch the road!" she screamed as she banged her head against an ash tray and landed on the floor. " Where'd you get your license, Sears Roebuck?"
"Shut up, bitch," Harmon ordered.
He had other things on his mind besides giving Marcie a comfortable ride.
He was afraid they might be in big trouble.
He didn't like the idea of stopping on a dark, deserted road in the middle of the night.
Harmon was a coward at heart and he had read enough Stephen King books to know that they had something to be afraid of.
There could be all kinds of weirdoes in the woods. Maybe a whole family of weirdoes like in some Burt Reynolds movie he saw once.
Well, if any of those weirdoes thought they were going to rape Harmon Yokel they had another thought coming.
But he also knew he couldn't go any further.
He turned off the road and pulled into a field. He stopped the car.
"What's going on?" Marcie asked.
She felt the car stop, but she couldn't sit up and she had no idea where they were.
"I think we've got a flat tire," Harmon muttered nervously.
He got out to check it.
The right front of the car sagged badly.
The right front tire was flat as a pancake.
Fortunately, the car was on a flat, dry patch of land.
He'd narrowly missed a big puddle of mud. "Never fear, Harmon's here," he muttered.
Harmon believed in keeping his car prepared for any emergency.
His trunk contained everything he might ever need: blankets, flares, snow chains, a spare tire, a jack and even a first aid kit.
His Boy Scout troop leader would have been proud.
Harmon was very pleased with himself for anticipating this emergency, but his self congratulations were rudely interrupted by more of Marcie's nagging.
"Harmon, where are you? Are you still there?" she whined.
Being on the floor of the back of the car, Marcie couldn't see very much of what was going on.
She was frightened.
"Don't leave me here alone," she pleaded.
"I'm not gonna leave you," Harmon assured her, although actually he was pretty mad at her.
The lazy bitch didn't seem to appreciate his daring rescue at all.
He'd behaved like a fucking Errol Flynn, a goddam Rambo back there and she still hadn't even thanked him.
"It's time for you to show a little gratitude," he announced.
He opened the back door of the car and reached in, lifting Marcie out by her long blonde hair and tossing her into the nearby mud.
"Harmon! What are you doing?" she screamed as she thrashed about wildly in the mud.
Her heart was racing.
Now she was really scared.
She was much more afraid of the real live Harmon than she was of any imaginary people or monsters in the woods.
She was sure that kinky Harmon was capable of anything.
Did he want to wrestle her in the mud, she wondered.
Or did he plan to leave her there alone and naked in the middle of a field?
Or did he plan to rape and kill her and just leave her body to be discovered by some farmer in the morning?
She was scared.
"Don't worry," Harmon assured her. "I'm not gonna kill you."
Marcie heaved a sigh of relief, but Harmon wasn't through.
"I'm not gonna kill you, but you owe me a favor. I saved your life and here's your chance to pay me back."
He untied her and let her stand up.
As Marcie stood up she looked around.
There was nowhere to go; nowhere to run.
She was still Harmon's captive and she had to do what he ordered her to do.
She'd always been a little afraid of Harmon Yokel, ever since the time she found him in her bedroom, going through her panty drawer.
Her favorite pair of black lace bikini panties had disappeared after that and she was positive he had taken them.
Ever since then she had avoided him like the plague.
She had never imagined that she would ever end up in an empty field with him.
Now she had to do whatever he wanted if she wanted to see Hans again.
"Ever change a tire before, Marcie?" Harmon asked.
"Huh?" Marcie was confused, but relieved.
Actually she was very proud of the fact that she could change a tire.
Auto repair was one of the courses she and Angela Dearing had taken at the Women's Self Help Institute.
"Here's your big chance," Harmon said, smiling cruelly and handing her the jack. "Get to work."
So Marcie got on her knees and started pumping, while Harmon stood in the darkness and watched and enjoyed every minute of it.
It wasn't even that dark, because the full moon cast a strong light over everything.
It made Marcie's pale white skin almost glow and the plump mounds of her round little ass seemed especially tempting to Harmon.
Marcie was concentrating on changing the tire and was completely unconscious of the effect she was having on Harmon as her round ass bounced up and down in the moonlight.
By the time she pulled the jack away and announced "It's done, now can we get out of here?" Harmon had a king-size hard on.
"Bend over the car," Harmon ordered.
"Please, Harmon," Marcie whined. "Can't we go now?"
"Shut and bend over," he insisted, but then Harmon remembered the contents of his car trunk.
His eyes lit up and a strange smile brightened his face.
It was such a creepy smile that Marcie started to get very nervous.
"I know what you need!" he announced and ran to the trunk, returning with the clanking tire chains.
Marcie stared at the chains.
Hans had trained her so well that the mere sight of them started her blonde pussy twitching with excitement.
The nipples on her big knockers were hard and red and quivering.
It didn't matter that the man holding the chains was Harmon and not her master Hans.
Her free will had been destroyed.
She was a creature of conditioned responses.
And her response now was to beg to be fucked.
As Harmon wrapped her wrists together and then bound her to the trunk of a nearby tree.
She spread her long legs, exposing her hungry, wet pussy.
"Give it to me, Fuck me good!" Marcie pleaded.
Encouraged, Harmon had taken off his overalls and was standing there naked, his huge boner glowing like a flashlight amidst a bush of thick black hair and his hanging shaking balls.
Marcie was so turned on she started thrashing around wildly.
Her big melons bounced around and her pussy lips were thick and mushy, dripping hot love honey down her thighs.
He could feel the heat radiating from between her thighs.
He aimed the head of his stiff cock at the entrance to her tight wet pussy.
"You want it, you got it babe," Harmon screamed as his cock plowed into her, pushing her wet pussy lips apart and spearing her hole, filling her love canal with power packing prick.
"I'm gonna pound my prick into your hot pussy!" he roared.
His cock was throbbing like it was going to explode.
There was a tidal wave building in his balls. Marcie moaned. "Fuck me, Harmon. Do it."
"You slut, he screamed. "I'm gonna fuck you good."
"Yes, give it to me. Fuck me good," she screamed back.
"You got it and here it comes," Harmon roared as he grabbed onto her hot writhing ass.
"Pound my pussy with your big hard cock," she screamed. "Faster! Faster!"
Her wet cunt slipped up and down his shaft. He could feel her starting to climax.
Marcie felt the hot cum shot deep into her spasming cunt and she screamed as she came hard in a wild orgasm.
Her cries were enough to wake the dead.
In their excitement, Harmon and Marcie barely noticed the chains loosening, sending Marcie slipping down into the mud and Harmon on top of her.
By the time they collapsed from their workout, they were both covered with slime and Marcie's long blonde hair was matted with it.
Harmon was not a cleanliness fanatic like some people, but even he could see that they were going to have to get out of there and get cleaned up.
First, he laid blankets on the car seats to protect his seat covers, because his car was very important to him.
Then he lifted Marcie out of the mud and tossed her in the back.
Day was starting to break and in the early morning light Harmon managed to find his way back to the apartment house.
There was no one around to see him carry a naked, mud-caked woman in chains up the stairs to her apartment.
Everyone in the building was still sleeping.
Once inside, he noticed that Marcie was unconscious.
Her eyes were closed and little bits of drool escaped from her lips.
"Gee, Marcie, you're a mess," he said.
He started to loosen the car chains wrapped around her, and she moved a little bit.
"Hans? Hans?" she mumbled as she felt his hands on her breasts.
That really made Harmon mad.
After all he'd done for this bitch!
"I should call your buddy Hans now.
I bet he'd get a kick out of seeing you like this," he said.
The sound of his angry voice brought Marcie to full consciousness.
She saw Harmon's face wavering over her. Then she remembered that he'd fucked her in the mud.
She started to cry.
"Ever since I met Hans Spier my life has been going downhill!" she said tearfully. "First I'm raped by his dyke sister, then Hans won't even fuck me and now, worst of all, he's let me fall into the clutches of Harmon Yokel!"
"That's it, keep crying," Harmon said impatiently. "I've got work to do."
Marcie sighed with relief as she watched Harmon don his overalls and Twisted Sister T-shirt.
At least she'd be free from this crazy monster for a little while.
"And when I get back you better be cleaned up. You look like shit!" he added.
"You're coming back?" she repeated. "But I'm home now. Isn't that what you wanted to do? Bring me home?"
"It's our home now, Marcie. You and me together," Harmon assured her.
Marcie got a sick feeling in her tummy. Her heart was pounding wildly.
"You remember, Marcie," Harmon continued. "To the victor belong the spoils. Well I'm the victor and you're the spoiled."
"So that's the way it is," she said.
She was in Harmon's clutches and he wasn't going to let her go so easily.
All Marcie wanted was to be lusty Hans' sex slave, What was she going to do?
At least Harmon let her bathe and freshen up while he went on his rounds of the apartment house.
He knew she was too exhausted and battered to try to escape.
Trying to pull herself together, Marcie lay naked on top of her bed and started daydreaming about Hans.
It was so hot in the tiny bedroom.
The windows were shut and she was too tired to even get up and open them.
At least Harmon left the radio on.
An old Blues Brothers song was playing.
Gee, she wished she and Hans could be together again.
The thought of Hans' master cock blasting her humble and obedient little cunt started getting her hot sweaty body excited.
Moving in rhythm to the beat of Soul Man, Marcie's hands soon found their way to her wet, throbbing little pussy.
She stroked the inside of her sweat-slicked thighs, moving slowly up towards her her pink cunt lips until she found her clit.
Her fingers moved inside her pussy, starting a warm flow of juice that bathed her fingertips.
Soon her whole body was heaving and sweating with excitement as she buried her hand in the moist pink flesh of her cunt, pretending it was Hans' own powerful love log.
When Harmon returned and saw her like that he was furious.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.
What a bring down! she thought.
Here she was daydreaming about Hans and dreary Harmon had to but in!
"Go away, Harmon," she answered. "You don't belong here."
"You ungrateful bitch!" Harmon yelled. He was really mad now. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson and I'm just the man to do it!"
He grabbed a pair of Marcie's black fishnet stockings from a pile laying on the top of her dresser.
Marcie screamed as he came closer.
"Oh, No! Harmon, what are you doing!" she yelled. "You're not gonna tie me up again!"
"I never should've left you alone, you spoiled bitch," he said.
He tied her wrists and ankles to the four poster, using the stockings.
Marcie lay on her stomach, spread eagled on the bed.
Her delicious ass was pointed in the air.
"Oh, No! Harmon! You're not gonna hit me are you? Please, no, Harmon!" Marcie cried.
She was really afraid of him.
But Harmon was unmoved.
He'd had it with Marcie Dempster and her stuck-up ways.
He reached for the hairbrush on her dressing table and started walloping.
"Ooooh, that hurts," she screamed as the hard back of the brush slammed against her ripe, naked cheeks.
In her excitement she lifted her saucy behind higher into the air, tempting him even more.
The sight of her round ass turning from white to rosy red started a bulge in Harmon's overalls that had to be satisfied.
He quickly got out of them, releasing his rigid tool and knelt on the bed, his legs on either side of hers, so that he was kneeling directly over her plump cheeks.
He stared at her puckered pink ass-hole, then began rubbing his dripping cock around it.
He pressed it home in one long and steady stroke, then bored into it with his throbbing prick.
Marcie bounced and squealed, struggling against the ropes that held her, while Harmon's depth charger moved deeper into her rectum.
Her plump rump bucked up and down, giving Harmon a ride for his money.
By now, Marcie was singing a different tune.
"Fuck me, Harmon," she pleaded. "Fuck me good."
They moved together, faster and faster, as his prick slid in and out, in and out of her ass like a piston.
"I'm gonna ram your little ass-hole," he yelled as he invaded her rectum up to his balls.
"Give it to me," she screamed in a frenzy of lust as she felt the invading thickness of his prick.
"Here it comes, bitch,' he answered, as he shot a gigantic wad of cum up her ass-hole.
"Ohhhh, Ohhh," Marcie groaned through her clenched teeth as her helpless hands clawed at the air.
"By the way, Harmon," Marcie asked. "How did you find me?"
Harmon hesitated for a minute, then he started to speak very slowly.
"That's a long story," he began. "Got a minute?"
NINE
While Harmon Yokel was explaining to Marcie all about how he had left her best friend Angela with their old high school teacher Mr. Fogarty, Angela herself was once again Mr. Fogarty's reluctant student.
Only this time the lessons were much more advanced.
"Remember all those times I suggested that you stay after class for extra help?" Mr. Fogarty reminded his former student.
"Yes," Angela admitted. "And I'm very sorry, Mr. Fogarty that I never stayed."
"You really should have attended my extra-help classes," he said kindly. "I could have taught you so much. Now we'll have to make up for lost time." Mr. Fogarty's eyes were gleaming.
As far as he was concerned, having Angela delivered to his bungalow was the opportunity of a lifetime.
And he was going to give her all the extra-help she needed.
"Everyone always says I'm a born teacher, Angela," he assured her.
Angela nodded, but her knees were trembling with fear.
She was very afraid of Mr. Fogarty.
Maybe the best thing to do was go along with him until Harmon got back, she decided.
If Harmon ever came back.
Angela suddenly realized she was actually looking forward to the return of Harmon Yokel!
Imagine that, she thought.
But she had to admit that Harmon had lifted her to a new level of sexual satisfaction.
Her bushy black twat started to liquefy at the thought of her own Incredible Hulk pile driving his piston into her.
So she obediently allowed Mr. Fogarty to tie her to the hallway stairs of his tidy bungalow.
Once she was securely fastened, he dared to touch her thick black thatch of pubic hair.
To his delight it was already wet.
He rubbed his ringers gently against her quivering slit.
"You wouldn't dare," feisty Angela insisted. "Suppose Harmon comes back?"
Mr. Fogarty only laughed heartily.
"Your friend Harmon isn't very bright, dear," he said, eyeing her big melon breasts with lust. "He's not loaded with potential the way you are."
You're the one who's loaded," Angela snapped. "You're loaded with shit!"
Mr. Fogarty's Santa Claus forehead creased in a slight frown.
"You know I don't allow that kind of language in my classroom, Angela," he said gravely. I'm afraid I can't let you get away with it."
In spite of her brave front, Angela was starting to get nervous.
Since Mr. Fogarty had tied her securely to the stair rail, she literally didn't have a leg to stand on.
She stared nervously at the purple, bulging head of his hard cock.
Mr. Fogarty grabbed her plump watermelon breasts and squeezed them.
The big brown nipples darkened and the tips jutted out as if they were saluting him.
Encouraged, he moved his rigid rod closer to her exposed pussy, gently poking her entry.
He felt the slick lips of her pussy grip his prick as she struggled to resist.
Angela's pussy seemed to have a mind of its own.
She didn't want to enjoy herself, but she couldn't help it.
He rubbed the head of his prick back and forth against her clit.
That made Angela moan.
"Oooooh," she sighed.
She couldn't help herself.
Her clit had a mind of its own and it struggled to join with Mr. Fogarty's hard cock.
"There now, you do want it, don't you, Angela," Mr. Fogarty said.
"Yes," Angela gasped.
He reached behind her and began to pinch the round white cheeks of her ass.
Angela squirmed at the intense pain, but her cunt began to drip with love juice.
"Here comes heaven," Mr. Fogarty shouted as he plunged his stiff cock between her sticky labia and deep into her hot slit.
His hot cock slid smoothly into the tender depths of her steaming core.
She struggled to hurl her pelvis back at him as he rammed his aching cock home into her cunt again and again.
"Oooooh," Angela sighed as she felt the invading thickness of Mr. Fogarty's prick.
"Grrrrrr" she growled through clenched teeth.
"That's it, dear, that's the way you do it," Fogarty encouraged her as his cock forced its way ever deeper into her hot, slick hole until he had crammed himself in up to his balls.
"I've never held such a thick one," Angela cried.
She was amazed that his massive member had actually penetrated her.
Encouraged, Fogarty began thrusting his rod in and out of her creamy cunt.
It had been a long summer vacation and he missed this kind of interaction with his students.
He plunged enthusiastically into her throbbing depths, feeling her hot, welcoming pussy cling to this driving prick.
"I know what you need," he said triumphantly. "You need a good solid prick stuffed up your cunt!"
"Yes, yes," Angela admitted. "I want to feel your prick plowing into my creaming cunt."
As he rammed into her again and again he could feel the thick helmet head of his tool bounce up against the opening of her cervix before sliding past into her depths.
Angela was so totally excited she struggled to move with him, but her bonds restrained her from more than a token effort.
She whimpered and squirmed as his balls banged against her.
"Stop," she screamed. "I can't take much more!"
"I can't stop," Fogarty screamed back.
He just kept pumping, long after he had nothing left to pump.
Next, he untied Angela and dragged her down to his basement rumpus room for some really intense education.
"Thump, thump," her body made a clumping sound as it bounced down the steps behind him.
The basement was a typical suburban recreation room that Mr. Fogarty had also made his den.
It was a masculine room with knotty pine paneling, a bar with stools and a beer company poster overhead.
There was a pool table and rifles and hunting trophies on the other walls including a deer's head complete with antlers.
Angela didn't have much time to take in the decor because Mr. Fogarty threw her across the newly waxed linoleum floor.
She slid across the surface like a hockey puck until she slammed into one of the cellar posts, banging her head against it.
Slightly dazed, she lay there in a lump.
Her long, curly black hair spilled over onto the floor and covered her face.
She was totally naked and her hands and feet were still bound.
Angela's meaty little body was covered with black and blue bruises and there were traces of Mr. Fogarty's teeth marks in her boobs.
"You love it, don't you, you little tramp?" he demanded.
Poor Angela couldn't answer, because Mr. Fogarty had gagged her with one of Mrs. Fogarty's monogrammed cocktail napkins.
"Ugh, Ugh," and other grunting noises were all she could manage.
Mr. Fogarty was so excited at the sight of her helplessness that he started to get another hard-on.
He was so excited, he barely managed to untie her ankles and re-tie them to separate pillars, so that she lay on her back, spread eagled on the cold linoleum floor.
Being totally helpless like that was a real turn-on for Angela and she soon noticed that the curly black hair of her pussy was glistening with love juice.
Fogarty stared at the wet pink love lips nestled in her black bush.
This was a golden opportunity for Mr. Fogarty and he didn't want to waste a minute of it.
He pulled the gag out of her mouth, almost taking two of her teeth with it.
"Talk to me bitch," he ordered. "Tell me how much you love it."
He rubbed the head of his hard prick against her clit, back and forth, while she moaned and moved against it, at least as much as her tight bonds would allow.
Fogarty's rigid rod forced its way deep into her hot, sopping cunt.
He could feel her pink inner walls gripping his shaft as he penetrated her throbbing depths.
"I need your prick," she screamed. "Stuff me with your hard cock."
That really encouraged Mr. Fogarty.
He eagerly rammed his driving tool in and out of Angela's hot pussy.
"I'm gonna bang my balls against your clit," Fogarty shouted.
Angela's juicy cunt was contracting with nonstop orgasms until her whole body stiffened, then shuddered.
Her cunt began to convulse and spasm.
Angela threw her head back and screamed.
"Ay. . .Ay. . .Ay," she moaned as a flood of her love juice washed over his hot shaft, bathing his balls and dripping on to the linoleum floor.
But Mr. Fogarty wasn't quite through.
He grabbed head by her thick black hair and held her pouting red lips in front of his still stiffened rod.
Angela began to cover it with moist, passionate kisses.
Mr. Fogarty plunged the head of his penis deep into her mouth.
Her long tongue wrapped itself around the ridge of his glans, caressing his penis, hugging it tightly to her warm lips.
His pole swelled and hardened again as she continued to suck away.
"Oh, I love your prick!" she sighed.
Her mouth opened wider and her throat muscles relaxed allowing him to enter all the way up to his balls.
Inch by throbbing inch Mr. Fogarty's pulsating erection disappeared into Angela's mouth and down her throat.
Inch by relentless inch she sucked it like a vacuum cleaner.
Her nimble tongue coiled around Fogarty' shaft like a snake as she made loud slurping noises and bobbed her curly black head of hair up and down.
She was moving so fast that she was little more than a blur by the time her lips reached his scrotum.
"Oh, yes, dear, you're learning well," Mr. Fogarty moaned.
He gripped her hair and held on tightly as an explosion of boiling cum poured out of his cock-head.
He started driving his rod into her mouth, shooting sperm over her tongue and down her throat.
"Lookout, Cum City, here I come," Mr. Fogarty shouted.
That was the situation Marcie and Harmon found when they came down the stairs to the basement recreation room.
"Angela!" Marcie gasped.
Actually, Marcie and Harmon were not totally surprised to find Mr. Fogarty and Angela together.
Marcie had listened in amazement while Harmon told her about how he and Angela Dearing had been looking all over town for her.
Naturally, out of his sense of good taste, Harmon left out the part about raping Angela in Marcie's living room, fucking her ass on Marcie's four poster bed and bathing her in a golden shower in Marcie's powder room.
He was afraid that it would all make Marcie very jealous.
Marcie shook her head in amazement when she heard the story.
"What a good friend Angela is!" she said. "And what a jerk you are, Harmon!"
"What d'ya mean?" he exclaimed. She'd hurt his feelings.
"How could you leave Angela alone with Mr. Fogarty?" she asked. "He's been after her ass for years."
"She did seem a little nervous when I said I was leaving," Harmon admitted.
Marcie recalled how much fun she and Angela used to have teasing poor Mr. Fogarty in the classroom.
"We used to drive the poor guy nuts when we would sit in the front row and take turns flashing our panties at him," Marcie said.
She started to giggle.
"What's so funny?" Harmon demanded to know.
"I was thinking about the time Angela didn't wear any panties at all," Marcie explained. "She got him so excited, the poor guy had to leave the room. He thought no one would notice his boner."
"I thought he seemed extra-happy to see her," Harmon recalled.
"How could you leave her there?" Marcie repeated. "She could be in real danger."
"I'm starting to wonder," Harmon answered.
He was ashamed to admit that he had been in such a hurry to save Marcie he didn't think about Angela.
He didn't think she'd be in any danger with her kindly high school teacher.
But as they came down the stairs that led to the Fogarty family's rumpus room, they saw that Angela was in trouble indeed.
Angela and Mr. Fogarty were so wrapped up in what they were doing they didn't even notice Marcie and Harmon come in.
Mr. Fogarty was ready for the next stage of the lesson.
He was screaming at the top of his lungs.
"I want my prick in your ass, bitch," he yelled.
His eyes were bulging wildly and his face was red and distorted like some kind of schizo.
"I'm gonna fuck your hairy hole," he screamed. I'm gonna shoot my fucking load up your hairy ass-hole."
"Go ahead," Angela screamed back. "I love it when you fuck my ass!"
Angela was sticky with sweat and her normally frizzy black hair was matted and in total disarray.
She was licking the last droplets of Mr. Fogarty's semen from her rosebud lips.
Marcie couldn't believe it!
Her feisty little friend had been totally fucked into submission!
