Keywords: M/F anal, oral, blackmail
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Two-fer Two
Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Two-fer Two (Twofer2.txt) - As in batting 1.000. I still don't
know what they've got on Susan or even the guy's name, but how important
is that in light of the loving description of what this unknown man
does to these two women again? M/F, anal, oral, blackmail
Two-fer Two
To say it was shaping up to be the same thing all over again
makes it sound banal and boring. But when you're the beneficiary of
an old indiscretion, an indiscretion that leaves one woman in your
power and her daughter lewdly lusting for you, adding there are 14
more anal fucks to reach a target 100, it isn't so boring after all.
Happily, Susan's untarnished reputation preceeded her. She was
considered a flawless manager and conscienceless streamliner. That
there would be jealosy that she had offered her services to a
competitor was a given and the new firm didn't bother contacting the
old. They supposed the lure was the enhanced salary, which was met
with glee by her tormentors.
The confidence of her superiors and the fear of her underlings
clashed severely with what she became when she entered her house. There
she was naked and at the command of her daughter and her daughter's
lover.
It was quite the reverse of her old life. Now, instead of fearing
what he would do until Vicky returned from school, she came home each
day and did her humiliating strip at the door often to the sound of
her daughter being fucked.
It was a strain for him in a good way. At 93 he had finally
convinced Vicky that her self-imposed goal of 100 would be best served
by spreading out her anal escapades. Seven more meant seven days and
a 100 butt-fuck party on Saturday. It left them to fill the time with
all the other adventures her rush to 100 had limited.
Vicky was not suspicious. She held the erroneous but sharply
observant view that he had been lying to her. She didn't suspect he
was holding back. She thought he had been fucking her mother more than
he admitted.
Now that she was the one left home alone with him all day, she
felt she was finally reaping the benefits that her mother usurped
before. He let her think what she wanted, although offended that she
thought he considered her feelings worth lying to her for.
At the moment, they were picking up an old thread. Susan heard
the water running and some excited chatter as she took off her clothes
at the door. They were in the shower testing out the invention (he did
add non-slip strips to the soles) of the fuck-me-in-the-shower pumps.
"You sure that's right?" Vicky was asking.
"They're fine. Perfect," he answered.
It still felt like he was coming in a bit too high. His cock took
her at the angle it did when he squatted over her to take her from
behind. Like that position, he was oblivious to the difference and she
felt the angle sharply as he blundered into areas unfucked any other way.
She was right in one sense. The heels were half, maybe a quarter
of an inch off- for fucking her cunt. His idea, from the time they had
both seen the solution together in a fuck film, had always been for the
ridiculous platforms to raise her where he could invade her ass like
he had in the motel shower but without strain.
Or anywhere else, he supposed. Fucking her standing was a good
thing. It was hardly worth the trouble of standing her on dictionaries
of some other method of bringing her ass to the right height, but now
they had the shoes...
In a way that was a change. Forget the way, it was a change.
Before, he would be philosopical. He'd fuck the tall ones that way and
find something else to do with one Vicky's size. It was a revolving
door of sizes, kinds and tastes and had natural variety.
Now he was stuck, or more properly, sticking the same two women
over and over. No doubt the benefits outweighed any thought of leaving,
but it meant he had to adapt different styles to them to keep the
same variety.
That was doubly true with Vicky's obsession with being fucked in
the ass 100 times. It was the same over and over despite the variations
they tried. He was feeling a growing excitement for the day they'd
pass the magic number and really cut loose.
"You should have come in to help us out," Vicky scolded her
mother when she saw her in the hall as they emerged from the shower,
"It's not like you'd get your clothes wet."
It was the curse and the blessing in one. Her mother parading
naked for her lover still didn't sit well, but it gave her the
opportunity to remind Susan of her shame. It sat lighter now that she
imagined she was the one benefitting from having him to herself
all day.
For her part, she was acting on his suggestion on the day he
decreed her mother should be naked in the house. That is, stay naked
herself for comparison. It wasn't a conscious decision. It was just the
way it seemed to be working out now they had time to play.
The move couldn't have come too soon for Vicky. It was the
freedom she craved all her life. No appointments, no meetings, no old
friends, no anything but playing and fucking whenever she wanted. She
knew it had to wait until she was 18, but she was glad they hadn't
waited until she graduated.
He was already working on the next move, not of location, but
of strategy. While their isolation felt like the freedom to explore to
Vicky, it had its crippling effect. Mostly it was there was only one
dick to fuck two women. There wasn't much variety in that.
He was scheming on a way to introduce another man, a trustworthy
man that wouldn't upset his universe. Susan needed more attention than
Vicky was leaving for him give her. Or that he wanted to give her
personally, to be sure.
He wasn't the right guy to upset Susan in the way that pleased
him and enchanted Vicky. She was callous to his abuse. The exception
seemed to be strangers, who got a reaction out of her every time. But
a stream of men started talk that got around, which led to curiosity,
which led to the authorities and interference.
He was working on a plan that would provide all the disgust Susan
could muster while keeping Vicky and himself relatively anonymous and,
most importantly, left to their own fun. It was a trick, but no harder
than keeping Vicky excited by the novelty of his perversions.
For it, he had to depend on the ethics of American business.
That is, that there were none. For him personally it had the attraction
of giving Susan the sense that there was nowhere to hide. He started
things in motion with a crude phone call.
"It's been hell tracing her, I tell you, but worth it, if you
know what I mean," he was regaling some man that was supposed to be
the top. "What do you guys do, or make, or whatever?"
On hearing, he grunted.
"Damn!" he said in disappointment. "I was hoping we could make
the same deal as at the old place. You know, huge, big, massive
business between us for having Susan assigned to 'eeeease' things
along. I guess I'll have to try and make a private arrangement."
He wasn't well received, but he hadn't meant to be. The cruder
he was, the less examined he'd be. It was the seed, the intriguing
thought, he had planted that was to be mulled.
He figured they might want one more confirmation of this behavior
that had, mysteriously, never reached their ears before. The suspicions
they had run from might do if they contacted the authorities, but that
was leaving too much to chance.
[ "I'll do anything I have to do if you'll promise me you
won't make my mom do the things they did at the other place"
He saw a torn, but determined Vicky confronting the boss.
A tearful catalogue of Susan's proclivities- or consessions
to the demands of her employers, wrapped in a brazen
offer.
He lingered on the offer and the slavering old man making
good on her end of the bargain. ]
It was quite nice to imagine Vicky playing the disgraced pure
girl, particularly when he was the director and she played it with
such an edge in his mind.
She was delightfully mocking when the old man couldn't see her
face. Still pouring out whines of shame and sobs of lost virtue, her
face was predatory as she threw her ass at the man while pretending
to avoid him. He saw the man as growing insanely excited with the fresh,
young woman bent over his desk and taking dick.
That would work if it went just like it did in his head, but he
didn't trust Vicky to be so skilled, even if he knew she was more than
perverse and predatory enough to pull off the deal part. And it had to
be right, or so off the track that the content was not the message.
That led him to Mickey. One little trip to prod the perve into
his infamous outrage to anyone that would listen.
"Grow up," he said to Mick, "Don't you see no one cares? It's
an adult thing that you just can't understand. Sure, they make a show.
What did that get you? Vicky in Juve Hall for one night. And you can't
even do that again. No one cares."
Certainly they cared, Mick thought. And he chased them all out
of town, to his regret, since Vicky was in his evil clutches and he
feared she would be used in the same way.
To her credit, Vicky, who had insisted on coming, didn't give
anything away. She was still looking at Mickey like he was garbage.
He hooked Mick up to the Cheese he had called before. The boy
was delightfully incoherent. Mick managed to convey that he had seen
terrible things involving Susan. That she was like a sex toy and
subject to command. And even if they had arrested him too, it was what
he saw and it was true.
He particularly liked Mickey's insistance on self-incrimination
in continually reminding anyone listening that he had seen it with
his own eyes. It made him seem just mad enough. At the least, it would
prompt a call to confirm the particulars of this mad rant. Possibly,
the Cheese had enough to make a bold new strategy for company growth.
"Now for a treat, you can watch me suck his dick," Vicky said
from out of nowhere. "Perve."
She was making good on her offer and Mick was gagging non-verbal
sounds. He was amused to stand still and let Vicky pull down his
zipper as she knelt at his feet. Mick was having a crisis. That was
clear to see. Perhaps two-thirds of him wanted to run away, but the
third that controlled his feet seemed to have some obscene desire.
The rest of Mick won. It seemed Vicky reaching into his pants
broke the stalemate and Mickey took to his heels. Vicky looked up at
him.
"You want me to? I will," she said.
"Later, and not on the sidewalk," he said.
"Staring at my mother. Fucking perve!" Vicky muttered as she got
up and he realized where her animosity toward Mickey came from.
It turned out fucking in a car hadn't changed much since he was
a boy. Vicky wanted her: later, and he thought it might be evocative
of days gone by. It was just as cramped and hard to find a position
that worked as it ever had been.
It didn't help that they were semi-public in the corner of a
drive-thru's huge parking lot or that it was the first time he had
fucked a girl in the ass in a car. It was awkward. The only benefit
he saw as he draped himself as conveniently as possible in the
the cramped back seat and Vicky squatted in a ball under the roof
over him, was that there were handholds now that she could use to
help her move her ass up and down on his cock.
"Tell me you're getting off," Vicky was panting.
He could lie. The process of finding their present configuration,
and all the stops and starts, trying to get his cock in her ass and
then stopping, moving and trying again, had been much more conducive
than this. It was good. He liked the tight collar of her sphincter
stroking him, but there was neither the free rein nor the fury needed
to get him off.
He didn't lie. There was never a point to it.
"I'm liking it just fine, but you're going to have to move faster
or more to get me off," he reported.
"I can't," she gave up and dropped down on him.
That was marginally better right there. Way up deep in her ass,
he felt some stirrings of lust. She didn't feel it the same way and
began to shift uncomfortably on his deep-thrust dick.
"Now if you keep that up, I might anoint you," he said with a
contented growl.
"Like this?" she grimaced and slid her hips back and forth on
his thighs.
No. Too contrived. He knew his excitement before had come from
her discomfort itself. That, and his dick being the cause by being too
far in her ass for her to take.
"Grab that thing again and I'll try to help," he said in the
guise of mercy.
From her new start, Vicky took an angle between the front seat
headrest and the door. It made an inch or two difference but they
were precious inches. It gave him the space to pull back to the
ultimate bliss of her asshole bumping the head of his cock and then
drive into her. He chose to characterize the effort that took as
invigorating rather than tiring.
It did have the grace of a new feeling as if he and Vicky hardly
touched except where his cock invaded her ass. He was braced with
arms and elbows on seatbacks, his heels pressing the floor at the
other end. Between them, he bowed up to bury his cock in the warmth
of Vicky's ass. She was bent away from him, her legs split between a
knee on the back seat and a foot on the floor. Asshole and cock were
the sole point of intersection. It felt rather anonymous that way.
"I am becoming an ass slut," Vicky said ruefully as she gingerly
pulled her panties up over her ravaged ass. "The only thing in that
for me was number 95."
That was just as true for him, though he kept silent. He was
torn between considering it an interesting experiment or just another
check-off of his teen lover's obsession with a number. He bent slightly
toward it being an experiment because he doubted doing her one of
the myriad ways they had already exhausted would have been anything
but more efficient.
Turning his thought to Vicky, out of boredom of the drive,
mostly, he decided that she had a similiar feeling. He thought she
had found that Mickey didn't have the pop of Mom. It wasn't hard to
deduce that her suggestion to get 95 out of the way had less to do with
her professed motive of them being on an adventure together and more
to do with Mickey.
From her disappointment, he figured that taking it up the ass for
an absent Mickey compared feebly with making her mother watch. If she
was as honest with him as he was with her, he would have set her
straight.
It took a couple of days to percolate, but Susan had been warned.
He had specifically, mysteriously, but specifically instructed her that
her new employers were like Gods. She was listen to them like she did
to him or face the same consequences.
Susan had so split the two parts of her life, the oasis and
the buried memories, that she didn't even connect the two at first. It
was like her last refuge had been discovered or at least shelled so it
was crumbling in around her.
Mr. Cheese, whose name was Jameson, called her in for a
conference. As she sat in the chair, he came around and casually
leaned on the front edge of his desk. It brought him in an
uncomfortable and unprofessional proximity she felt at once.
"We've been hearing rumors about some of your activities at
your last place of employment," he began.
Susan was struck by a double horror. Certainly the rumors were
over the allegations of her being an unfit mother. As those reasons
were sexual mischief and since Mr. Jameson was being so familiar,
she feared both his knowledge of her secret horror and his intention
to take advantage of it.
"You can never trust rumors," she said to test his level of
certainty, "Sometimes they are started by jealous people."
"And sometimes they are rumors because no one wants to put
themselves in the position of knowing directly," he said, "For
instance, if it was unethical and on some level illegal."
Susan didn't know how to respond. He wasn't talking about her
private life. He was talking about her professional life and she had
no idea what kind of unethical or illegal dealings she could be
accused of.
"Then they must be lies," she said, "I never did anything
unethical or illegal."
"That was a for instance," he said smoothly, "And it's only a
rumor. I'd never let anything that damaging rise beyond the level of
a rumor. Certainly not in these offices."
Susan was looking at him intensely. All she could decipher was
whatever he was edging toward would happen somewhere else. She had a
feeling what it might be, but no direct indication.
"I'm at a loss," Susan said, "Can you give me any indication
what these rumors said?"
"Certainly," he seemed quite comfortable with that, "An old
client was desperate to do business with you again. And a crazed
young man seemed to indicate what that business might have been.
He said he saw it."
It fell into place at that. It felt like it was falling on
her. The familiar refrain of having seen something wicked jogged
the pieces into place. Mr. Jameson had to notice the way she sagged
when it came together.
That made no difference now. She was doomed to listen to his
sick inferences, and more despairingly, do whatever he wanted. She
still had no idea of the trap that had been set for her but she knew
who set it and that meant it had to entail sick things she could
not begin to imagine.
"I take your silence to mean I jogged your memory," Mr. Jameson
said when she did not speak. "It's probably best that way as long
as we understand each other."
Susan let her doom put sad resignation on her face as she
looked up. As little as she wanted to know what awaited her, she knew
it would make no difference in the end. His grip on her now extended
to every moment of her day, of her life. There was no longer any
freedom even in wearing clothes.
"I see a strong uptake in the fortunes of the company now that
I realize we have a resource with such a rapport with our vendors and
clients," Jameson said and she knew she was the resource and it took no
imagination to know what he meant by rapport.
He had begun to see the charmed life he had anticipated when he
fell onto this deal. Convincing Vicky to approach her goal one day at
a time brought them to the full range of fun and games that he could
take, oh, say, forever.
Vicky was presently conserving her energy as she straddled him
and moved her hips up and back lazily. It seemed she had been infected
with his ability to appreciate anticipation herself. She had relented
in her first eagerness as she mounted him. She was taking a break
before one them forced it to a climax.
"You like it when I tease you?" she asked.
He didn't see it as teasing. His cock was inside her, alert and
happy. It was going to stay happy until they began clashing together
again, when it would be happier.
"I like anything that makes it last," he said, not trying to
correct her misapprehension.
"Well, I like it too," Vicky said argumentatively even though he
agreed, "I like having you all big and hard up inside me just like this
as much as I can."
He didn't see Susan come in. When he caught a glimpse of her
skulking by the door, he thought he understood Vicky's words and tone.
He wasn't sure what the look on Susan's face was about. She was usually
careful to hide her resentment of Vicky's taunts, but she was
scowling.
"What's this?" he asked to perk both Vicky and himself up, "You
like seeing her get fucked in the ass, but you get upset when she fucks
the regular way?"
"You know why I'm upset," Susan said, again breaking with form
to register a complaint, but too angry to hold it in.
"Ask her why. I'm busy," he turned to Vicky.
As Vicky looked over her shoulder at her mother, he bounced her
on his cock to give her a lift in addition to the thrill of the
confrontation. He felt Vicky shiver in answer.
"Why are you upset, Mommy-slut?" Vicky asked nastily, "Am I
hogging the dick you used to get so much?"
Susan didn't want to talk to Vicky and she was confused by the
reference to things that only happened in Vicky's suspicious mind. She
tried to stare past her daughter and confront him.
"Make him tell you," she said, "Make him tell you what he did to
me."
"Does this have anything to do with you being a slut at work?"
Vicky asked cattily.
Susan did a good job of hiding her shock at that remark. But it
wasn't so good that both he and Vicky didn't see the reaction she
couldn't cover. Obviously Susan still held some vain hope that Vicky's
contempt was somehow his fault. Finding Vicky was happily part of the
horrible plan made Susan's brows flicker up and then sternly down as
she regained control of her stone-faced facade.
"I was not a slut at work," Susan said passionately and then
struggled with a more even tone as she added, "I have never been like
that. It's disgusting."
He could see the tremble of fear that underlay her quiver of
indignation, but he was most gratified by her admission of disgust.
It was good to see her affected. It boded well for the future of his
scheme.
"Come now, Mother," Vicky chided her, "We know you only keep your
true nature hidden. You should thank us for making you bring it out
into the open."
"What true nature?" Susan asked, tired of waiting for one of them
to tell her the terrible truth by taunting her, "What is Mr. Jameson
going to expect me to do?"
Certainly things more horrible than you can imagine, he thought
to himself. What you endured with me is child's play compared to the
way it appeared. The hold I have on you gave me a full rein that I
barely used.
Then he shook with amusement as he saw the circularity of his
argument. Vicky responded to the way his mirth moved his cock in her
by wiggling her rear in reply.
Whatever sick thoughts came to those that took advantage of her
complete obedience were rooted in the hold he and Vicky shared over
Susan. It was the reason she could not refuse and therefore it was
imposed by them, only using the twisted imaginations of others.
The thought wasn't exactly sexual, but it tapped the dark flow
of emotions that underlie sex. He could have his greatest joy in
seeing Susan shamed without sparing her a thought. Others would be
his puppets in constructing and playing out the acts that did it.
He could have the enjoyment without the work and with the added
aphrodisiac of the puppets ignorant of the strings he held.
He began to thrust up at Vicky. That wasn't exactly sex either.
He was responding to the urge to affect her, to make her respond to
his hard cock forcing her reaction.
It became sex quickly. Vicky, precociously taking it as a signal
to ignore her mother, turned her attention back to him and rode his
every surge. Her response took him to greater efforts which Vicky
again returned. The urge became lost in the fucking expressing it and
dropped back into the primal dark of his nature.
"You just like her to watch," Vicky gasped, confusing him with
herself as she put her hands on his chest to fuck him in earnest.
"I'm just going with the feeling," he said to explain the timing
of escalating their lust. "Now fuck that cock and he'll make you all
warm and sticky inside."
Their refusal to answer only heightened Susan's dread. She knew
it was hopeless to keep asking. She had already given them too much
enjoyment by showing her concern in the first place.
She watched Vicky fuck him in a sour mood. If one of them should
be in her position it was Vicky. Her daughter evidentally took pleasure
in such sick escapades. But what fun would it be for him of she liked
it, she grimaced.
With her dark suspicions nibbling at the corners of her mind,
Susan was feeling inured to the routine. She had tried to mime
unconcern from the start to frustrate them, but now she was actually
numb. Flopping around naked had been an early casualty and now she
couldn't work up the concern for anything they might want to do to her.
Yes, it still stung a little that her daughter's focus was in
horrifying her, but the numbing repetition had removed the horror. It
was simply a fact. Something that making it a daily event only
stressed.
The big 97 seemed featureless for everyone involved. Vicky lay
on her side as he spooned into her ass from behind. Vicky's main focus
was assuring Susan that Vicky felt on the verge of becoming a full-
fledged ass slut like Susan.
"It's still real big," Vicky assured Susan, "But I can take it.
You must have been so proud when it didn't matter where they put it.
And I want to be just like you."
Vicky's words only prompted Susan to think Vicky should be the
one facing whatever unknown was facing her. She was trying to keep from
thinking about it. She knew she'd never guess. She wanted whatever
peace she might have before it began to be unmarred by her worry.
Susan couldn't even work up the bitter smugness to appreciate
Vicky's frustration as the cock that was still real big stayed real
big and kept ramming into her asshole. She saw the twinges on Vicky's
face as he kept on and kept on, using her roughly but to small effect
in their more relaxed position. She knew, had suffered the feeling,
but had little feeling of payback in her gloomy state.
"There you are!" Vicky said with more than a little relief when
she knew he had cum. "Three more days to the big celebration, mother.
You can look forward to it because we'll have something special for
you to do."
Susan couldn't think of anything more 'special' than performing
oral sex on her daughter while he took her ass for the 100th time. She
had gotten through it as she had gotten through everything, by
pretending she wasn't there.
She was moving her tongue. It wasn't there and she wasn't then.
It was a disembodied experience and if she pretended hard enough there
were only brief, destroying glimpses of the truth. She could quickly
flee back into denial. She would do it again.
But how did you deny what you didn't know? That was the problem
with strangers. How do you think of other things when you don't know
anything about the other person? If generally it was the same, it was
different because the horrible truth kept intruding, too often and for
too long.
"You know what just occurred to me?" Mr. Jameson asked.
Susan genuinely had no idea. She had exhausted herself with
assurances that she could never guess. Then it turned out to be what
she had thought the first time she sat in his office.
"I'm a valuable asset and if you don't have any other demands on
your time, I should consider it a benefit," Jameson said. "Meet me here
after work- say 6:00."
He handed her an address on a phone slip. Susan gave him a
troubled look.
"I'm not the one that decided to maximize your potential. Don't
give me that look," he said, "If it's about what's to your benefit,
then take off the rest of the day- until 6:00."
That was some perk. It gave Susan the time to sit in a park and
picture what Mr. Jameson would want. She wasn't going home early to be
picked on by her daughter. She decided to call and say she'd be late
and stay at work. That might take her mind off 6:00.
He was gleeful. He wanted all the details of things she didn't
know, like what Mr. Jameson wanted, or how long he'd keep her, or in
what condition she'd be. He seemed just as happy she was fearfully
ignorant of the answers.
In a way, that forced Susan to think. What could Mr. Jameson
want? Stripping off a level of civility, Susan went to the basest
level.
If all he wanted was a blow-job, he could have stuck it in her
mouth in the office. Except he was paranoid about scandal, and might
not want even that within the sacred walls. Certainly he wanted to
fuck her, but where would that end?
Could she hope he'd bend her over in the entry way, bang her and
then walk away? Was he probably going to go through the whole feel her
up and take his time? And was that it? Would he want to put it in her
ass just so, 'he'd been everywhere'? Would he want to two or even
three times?
Every step Susan told herself that it was pointless to guess and
another thought came. She had to do it, so what was the point in
living it twice, in imagination and then reality? And the pictures
just got clearer.
At 6:00 she was reminded how pitiful her imagination was.
"Just take off everything. Right there by the door," Mr. Jameson
instructed as she entered, "Hang it all on that hat rack if you want."
It was distressingly familiar to Susan. It made her feel that
all men were her masters. There were so many that she had to obey.
"Now let me look at you," he motioned for her to turn, "I want
to see what I like best."
At least her tormentor was missing out on the joy of her
humiliation, Susan thought as she turned slowly for Mr. Jameson. This
was worse than letting him fuck her. She could just lie there for
that, but she was actively submitting as he perused her like merchandise.
"That's nice," he said and sipped his drink, "Now tell me why I
should hire you for this job."
She looked at him in confusion. Did he want her to list her
sexual accomplishments to see if she was fit to fuck him?
"What are your strong points and weak points?" he asked, "What
can you bring to this company?"
Susan recognized the standard interview questions and got it.
"I'm a very willing personality," Susan parroted, "I put myself
into my work and I'm always ready to give to the company."
"Would you say you're easy to get into... er, along with?" he
asked with the obviously intended gaffe.
"I do work better with others than on my own," she said. "I try
to cooperate."
"Well, I'm sorry, I don't think we have an opening for someone
with your skill set right now," he said, raising his eyebrows.
Ignoring the easy reply about 'openings', Susan went right to the
heart of it.
"Please, I'll do anything because I need this job," she begged,
"Whatever you want, I'll do it. Anything."
"I don't know what you mean," he was purposely obtuse, "Why don't
you show me what you're talking about."
Fine. She had to humiliate herself in front of him, play his
game and now she had to crawl over and pretend it was her idea. And
the worst part was the 'had to'.
Susan got on her knees and crawled to him because she knew he'd
like it. She reached for his fly as he watched without comment and
opened it to reach in and get his cock out. She saw him watching
disinterestedly as she bent forward to suck his cock into her mouth.
He leaned back and took another sip of his drink as if she was
shining his shoes and not sucking his cock. She felt like the good
servant, efficient and ignored, as she bobbed up and down on his cock.
He was very hard and had been for some time when he grabbed her
hair to hold her head in place and slowly fucked in and out of her
mouth. He tested how she took it and what she did when he jabbed it
at her throat.
"You know, you make me think I might have a position for you,"
he said finally, letting go of her hair.
"Up in that chair on your knees, arms over the back," he directed
her. "I might have some work for you."
Susan felt like a whore. It was a promotion from her normal state
and she would have taken to it if it wasn't also a demotion from her
island of normalcy. But she had no choice in action. Liking it or not
she climbed up on the chair as she was told.
Mr. Jameson got up behind her and shoved his cock in her with no
fanfare. It was uncomfortable but far from unfamiliar to be taken so
rudely. The pain came from somewhere else. Mr. Jameson's cock fucking
in and out of her made Susan feel her despair even more.
Without being there, without touching her, he was forcing her to
debase herself. It was somehow worse that he wasn't leering at her
shame. It was as if he decreed it without caring. As if she was due
this abuse, but it didn't matter enough to him to attend.
Still, she felt him like a hand pushing her head down as Mr.
Jameson fucked her. Jameson was only an irritating presence as he
jammed his cock in her. Susan could ignore him as he pumped her with
his lust. It was the man that forced her into being his whore that
made Susan shake her head in misery.
"That's right! Earn it!" Jameson ranted as he fucked her faster.
"Give me a reason. Make it worth my while!"
He bumped harder against her as his mounting excitement became
harder thrusts. He wasn't holding back. He was holding her hips now so
he could force himself into her deeper. Susan could no longer ignore
the cock plunging into her. He was making her squirm with the violence
of his fucking.
"Oh yes!" he gasped out, "That's it! Take it all, you sweet
little ticket to the President's chair!"
It felt like he had cum a lot in her. He had certainly pushed
against her, his cock jerking inside her, for some time. He had
pulled away from her, but he was still standing right there. Susan
didn't move until he made it clear.
"You don't know anything about this job," he scolded her, "What
are you waiting for? Turn around and suck my cock clean."
Mr. Jameson was a comical sight in his shirt and tie and his
shoes and socks with his skinny legs in between, but Susan wasn't
amused. It made her feel more like a whore, a convenient fuck. And
she was the one that had to lift his sticky, wet cock to her mouth
and suck it. She had nothing to laugh about.
There might be worse things ahead, she was trying not to think
about it, but at the moment she was feeling bad enough. She knew
neither of them would be able to look at the other after this without
remembering. Mr. Jameson wouldn't see her, he'd see her ass in the
air, her head moving as she sucked his scummy cock. And she would be
reminded of the same things, filling her days and thus her entire life
with horrible things she only wished to escape.
"Now go plunge out or whatever you whores do and then get back
here," Mr. Jameson dismissed her.
She didn't take much time in the bathroom. It wasn't a refuge
while Mr. Jameson waited for her. It only made her wonder what he had
planned and she thought it was better to find out and get it over with.
He was holding a fresh drink and she wondered if he had another
while she was gone. There was a glint in his eye that might be alcohol
but might be something the alcohol released. He was smiling at her.
"In all the confusion before, I didn't get a chance to take a
good look at you," he said. "Get back in that chair and put your
legs over the arms."
Susan had used up her supply of horror. All the terrible things
still applied, but she was growing numb to them. What did it matter
if he saw her ass in the air or her spread open like a present when he
looked at her, she thought as she got into position.
He didn't even seem to want that good look. He slouched back
into the other chair and stared at her from a distance as he sipped his
drink. He was just making her show him. He didn't really want to see.
It was the same when he did get up and come closer. He poked at
her breasts a little and shoved his finger rudely inside her, but it
was to humiliate her and not out of interest.
"Now play with yourself," he ordered.
She knew it was to arouse him, but she didn't know if it was
because watching her masturbate excited him or if he was getting off
on the power. She hoped it was the power, because then he was a fool.
She could soothe her shame by despising him if he thought it was his
will and not the threat hanging over her head that kept her there.
"Make it good, bitch," he snarled, "I want you to get all hot
for me."
A little wriggling, deep breathing, rhythmic humping with her
hips, she put on the show. There was no way she could ever excite
herself with him in the room. He had become very ugly to her.
"Your ass. Stick a finger in your ass while you do it," he
instructed.
All right, one number three coming up, she thought rebelliously
as she reached under herself to add that finger. Like any particular
part of his sick fantasy was any more degrading than any other. It
mattered most she had to, whatever it was. What it was made little
difference.
"Yeah! You like that, don't you?" he crowed as she stuffed
herself with fingers from both hands and mimicked excitement, "Now
down on the floor you dirty bitch!"
"On your knees, and don't stop that," he ordered as she got out
of the chair.
His cock had responded. It was far from hard, but it swelled and
was rising a few degrees above hanging limp as she got on her knees.
She had to prop herself up with her face on the carpet to keep her
hands busy in her crotch. She imagined she presented him the perfect
picture of the accessible bitch who couldn't get enough.
She got the first hint of his intent when he pushed away the
hand driving the finger in her ass and replaced it with his finger.
It let her use the arm to take some pressure off her cheek, but she
didn't like the omen.
"You like that do you? You like that?" he asked as he rummaged
roughly in her rear, "You like that or are you just such a slut you
don't care."
"I'm a slut," Susan told the carpet, "Go on. Go on and fuck me.
I know you're going to."
She got a stinging slap on her ass for talking.
"Don't tell me!" he roared, "I'll tell you!"
He dug his finger in her ass, trying to hurt her and doing a
good job of it. It wasn't worth the satisfaction of throwing him off
to be hurt like that. Susan held her tongue.
She was right about throwing him off. When he gave up trying to
excite himself with her pain, he came around and jerked her face off
the floor by her hair. His cock was up, but halfway and half-hard.
"Now suck it," he demanded, "Suck it so I can stick it in your
ass."
How can I resist, she thought wryly as he stuffed his cock in her
mouth. I get to suck cock and then get fucked in the ass, a girl's two
favorite things.
She sucked like he told her to because she knew he would hurt
her more and enjoy it if she balked. It was best to play his whore.
Her pride would bring her pain and then she'd do what he wanted anyway.
"More tongue. Use your whore tricks to get me hard," he demanded
as if it was her fault he was slow to respond.
He liked shaking her by the hair. She could tell by the way his
cock responded. He liked it so much he held her by the hair and fucked
her mouth until she gagged when he was hard again.
He was like some beast, she thought as he let go of her hair.
He had been distracted by her struggles and now was stalking the rear
he'd seen wriggling like it was some new prey. Strictly running on
animal impulse, she thought.
Her condescending assessment didn't make it any easier when he
shoved his cock in her ass. The force of him pushing his cock in made
her yank her hand out of her crotch and steady herself with both hands.
She immediately dropped her face to the floor as he heaved to bury
more meat in her back door.
Her ass wasn't exactly dry and his cock was coated in spit, but
that was no comfort. Even bending to open her widest did little to
ease his battering at her protesting sphincter as he forced his cock
up her ass. Her fingers dug into the carpet and she screamed. He
lunged harder.
It was nearly as bad coming out as going in. Mr. Jameson stopped
trying to penetrate her and pulled back with a snarl.
"Stay where you are. Don't move!" he ordered.
When he returned, she felt greasy fingers rub her anus. He was
very rudimentary and hurried and then she felt his cock again. This
time when he pushed forward, his cock drove through her sphincter with
the briefest halt and then blundered inside her.
This time she felt the thrust as invasion. It had the same effect
of driving her breath out of her, but it was from feeling so much of
him so suddenly inside her and not his blunt attempt to force her ass.
"Hot buttered ass! Just the thing after a long day's work!" he
exulted as his next surge buried his cock fully in her backside and
brought him hard against her rear.
Susan could appreciate escaping the trial of his dry cock ripping
at her, but she knew he had only relented out of his own frustration.
She was even secretly pleased that he had solved the problem because
she was free to ignore his cock stroking in and out of her ass.
She was an ass slut according to Vicky's standards, she admitted.
If she hadn't been before, Vicky's lover had made sure over the past
months. That was an evil blessing now. Of course she felt the cock
stuffing her, moving, setting off uneasy feelings in her bowels, but
it didn't monopolize her attention.
She tried to think of Jameson, what he had revealed in his lust
driven abuse. He'd revealed he was a man. She tried to think if he
had acted drunk when that line of questions shut off.
There wasn't a lot to distract her that wasn't more horrible than
the cock fucking her ass, she discovered. Home was worse; her prospects
were worse; her whole life was worse than kneeling with her ass open
wide and taking a cock that was rapidly getting rougher and moving
faster in her guts.
She relented her efforts at distracting herself and tried to
judge how much longer it would be. Jameson was becoming frantic
slamming against her upraised bottom, but she wasn't sure that was an
indicator. It felt more like a desperate effort to make himself cum.
"I know what you want. You want a taste," Jameson confirmed her
suspicions as he yanked his cock from her ass.
Susan had been through too much to be shocked when he presented
his cock for her to suck. Instead she was irritated that Jameson's
every problem was somehow for her to fix. She sucked the cock from her
ass with no emotion, knowing that frustrating Jameson only meant
worse for her.
It was slightly rougher when he rammed his cock back in her ass,
but enough butter remained to let him drive to the root in one thrust
and take up his slapping on her ass with almost no interruption.
Susan broke down and moaned. As he hammered her cock up her ass, she
cried out and whined.
As she suspected, the evidence of her distress drove Jameson into
a fury. He fucked her ass as fast as he could manage and in short order,
although much longer than Susan wished, he lunged into her and came.
"Now look at that," he said as she stayed in position with her
anus still distended from his brutal use, "My very own dirty whore slut
cunt."
He backed up to his chair and dropped into it, his grimy cock
still dripping the dregs of his jizm. Susan decided he was a little
drunk.
"Isn't that a picture," he mused, finally coming to the
realization Susan had had earlier, "That's something to remember when
I see you strutting around the office so proper."
Susan suddenly wanted to tell him to lick out what he left in her
ass. There was nothing she could do about submitting to him, but it
rankled that he thought he'd earned it. On her own, she would snap his
fragile ego like a twig.
She was sorry she thought that in the next instant. It reminded
her of the control, complete, remote control, she was under. It was
more horrible than ever, she realized. Now she couldn't even have
rebellious thoughts without him intruding. He had crept in to take
over her very mind.
Jameson clearly wanted more. Susan looked at him sideways from
her hunched position on the floor and saw thoughts pass over his face
like clouds on a sunny day. He probably couldn't think of anything
nasty enough, Susan guessed. And he'd know his third performance was
likely to be even more feeble than his second.
Susan was glad of his lack of imagination. Without knowing more
herself, she was sure there were terrible things he could do or make
her do. Her greatest relief was that he certainly couldn't touch her
secret dread because he was alone and there was no other stranger to
torment her.
When she reached 'home', Vicky and her nemesis had checked off
98 without waiting.
"We thought he'd keep you all night," Vicky said dismissively.
"You must be more boring than I thought."
It was 98 that was boring. They both had reached the point where
they were eager for it to end. With a gala event planned for Saturday's
100, they couldn't rush to the conclusion to get it over and it was in
some way the anticipation of the event that made everything leading up
to it pale by comparison.
She knelt on the bed. He slid into her ass and they fucked. More
exciting than taking out the garbage? Sure, but more on the level of
checking the mail to see if the package you were expecting had come yet.
Vicky had been much more excited when he reached over to spank
her pussy while she was blowing him earlier. It was a shock at first,
but a dirty kind of shock. It hurt too, but in a 'oh gosh' stinging
way that wasn't all bad. Her alerted pussy actually tingled and was
waiting for more.
She spread her legs wider so she'd be more open for it to sting
worse, better, whatever. Her labia were hot, swollen. Her clit was
alert. He spanked her again, sharply, she Vicky wondered why she hadn't
heard about this before.
It was like instant ready for cock. Her pussy was showing all the
signs. She might not be really wet yet, but she could tell she was
going to be. The second slap had treated her clit roughly and the
stalk was so hard she could feel it. There was an ache that was as
much wanting more as pain.
Oh yes, she wanted more. The impact wasn't nice. She was a little
bit scared of the way it hurt the tender parts, but right after, the
tingles and even the hurt made her pussy feel alive and wanting more.
That went double, triple, quadruple for her clit. The sensation,
which wasn't even really pain, more of a searing kind of jolt that
sliced through her, made her afraid she would bite his cock. Then it
hurt with a warm, nasty kind of hurt that wasn't about getting off, but
about wanting and needing to get off really, really bad.
He was of two minds on that. Obviously he had treated her to a
thrill that would make her more devoted to him, but it was ruining the
blow-job. She was too distracted by the sensations in her pussy to keep
her mind on sucking his cock.
He spanked her pussy a fourth time as he pulled his cock out
of her mouth and got between her wide-spread legs. He had been
pretty rough. Her pussy looked like it had a rash. It looked sore. He
put his cock between the red, swollen lips and slammed into her like
he was spanking her pussy again.
She jerked on the bed and threw her arms out wide. She was
surrendering to him, laying open and unresisting for him to use.
She was going to lay back and let him do the work, he thought.
It wasn't that bad, he decided. He could think of it as raping a
helpless victim, one too frightened, or horrified, to resist.
Soon it didn't matter. It was about cock and cunt, thrusting
and penetrating, a swollen grip and forcing hard cock into it. She was
as excited as she had ever been and this time he felt that in the
difference in her pussy. What the spanking had brought to the surface
was joined by the natural influx of her lust and it felt firmer,
tighter as his cock slid between the engorged labia.
Vicky felt it as just more. He rubbed harder, rubbed against more
as his cock sawed in and out of her. Her pussy felt bigger, fuller and
felt him slap against it more in consequence. Then there was her poor,
aching, hungry clit that sent screams of passion through her every
time he bumped it. She felt it like wires touching and sending arcs
to shake her body every time he drove into her.
As the shocks came closer together her screams came out in great
exhalations, stripped of the volume by the electrical lust that seemed
to paralyze her vocal cords. She jerked with each thrust, flopping
under him as he fucked her. She felt no conscious effort but she
was responding perfectly to his cock thrusting in and out.
She retained the reaction/response as she slipped into orgasm.
She felt outside of her body but it was there, somewhere in the
dimness outside, still moving to reward his hard staff for pleasure
received. She seemed to loll in that other land, returning closer to
the tumult of his charging cock and then drifting off again.
When he could finally hold out no longer, he crashed into her
with thrusts that needed no help from her reactions to move her body.
He had been urged on by her reactions, her reception, by the newness,
to a peak beyond their normal pleasure. He released that in a series
of short, punching lunges that his body ordered and he obeyed.
For once a wisecrack didn't leap to his tongue. It wasn't
important since Vicky was still drifting, but he noted that his climax
had seemed to cloud even his thinking. Even without him between her
legs, Vicky had the feeling it wasn't over. Her body was only slowly
calming after the frenzy that had rocked her.
"I think I came a lot of times, but I don't remember," she said
finally.
"Forty-seven," he had recovered himself, "I did all right, but
I was going for fifty."
"Then say fifty," she said, aware he was lying, "I couldn't
count, it was like one long string of beads. Bigger sometimes, but
never stopping."
Mr. Jameson turned Friday into a one-man gauntlet. He seemed to
be everywhere before her and waiting to leer as she went by. He was
making it clear what he was thinking so Susan couldn't miss it.
There was no comfort. Mr. Jameson wouldn't be there on Saturday
but Susan couldn't feel any satisfaction at that. She was sure
whatever was planned for the next day would be more disturbing than
Mr. Jameson staring at her with intent.
She had to suffer Jameson's knowing appraisal all day and then
go home to hear Vicky guess what Saturday would bring. Vicky didn't
stop although it was clear he wouldn't tell. Susan was subjected to
ever more horrible guesses that only elevated her own apprehension.
Susan waited on tenterhooks- the metaphorcal kind, although she
had no faith that real ones did not await her- as he put Vicky through
her paces. They were building up to something, she could plainly see.
She noticed the creeping sadism with distaste. He was pinching
Vicky, her nipples, her clit, with varying degrees of violence as they
teased each other with sex play. Susan could only suspect that whatever
pain was visited on Vicky would come to her many-fold.
"Sit at the bottom of the bed and lean back," he told Susan as
their games grew to include her.
Sue took the position, all too aware that the foot board of the
bed came across the back of her neck. True to her observation, he had
Vicky back over her mother and squat down. Susan's head was forced
back onto the bed as her daughter sat on her face.
The cushion of the matress was small comfort as Vicky rested her
weight on Sue's face and began to rock. It might not be pain, as such,
but Vicky was smashing her nose shut, leaving Susan to gasp through her
mouth. She knew her mouth would soon be busy too.
"She licking?" Susan heard him ask.
Vicky's reply was a muffled gargling and Susan knew that her
daughter was busy sucking his cock.
"Lick her, you stupid slut. Why do you think you're there?" he
told her, his foot moving between her legs and shoving his toe inside
her roughly.
It was abuse that she had never dreamed, if it wasn't the worst
she feared. It was hardly the most demeaning thing she had been made
to suffer, but by its very oddity it ranked on Susan's scale. Knowing
it was pointless, and gratifying to them, to resist, Sue stuck out her
tongue and began licking Vicky as she knew she would eventually.
He pulled his foot back to steady himself. It was going well. He
gripped Vicky's arms as she gripped his to balance as her mouth slid
up and down his cock. Susan was in her supporting role, making Vicky
eager as he enjoyed her attempts to swallow his cock whole.
She had to be feeling the fireworks, he thought, she had been
jumpy and excited all day as he teased her with little demonstrations
of what she might expect for her big one-hundreth. His only fear was
that he would disappoint her with the big build-up.
Vicky clearly responded to, at least small doses of, pain and he
had no plans of hurting her more than usual when he completed her ass
slut training. He hoped it wouldn't be too big a let-down, although he
was willing to make it up to her if she wanted to be hurt.
He saw it more as a big celebration with games and presents that
were more exciting than the actual blowing out the candles, which is
how he thought of fucking Vicky's ass for the 100th time. That was why
the first game was going to be jamming his cock down Vicky's throat
when he came and she wriggled on Mommy's tongue.
She was getting close. He judged Vicky's excitement by how far
she let his cock into her mouth. As she became more aroused, he
reasoned, the less attention she paid to things like choking and
gagging and the farther she pushed her face toward his belly.
He was ready anytime. Vicky had been fighting back every time he
squeezed or twisted or pinched some part of her body. Then he had
shoved his highly-aroused cock in her mouth for her to suck as she
wiggled on her mother's tongue. He was just waiting for Vicky to forget
what she was doing to shove his cock to the root in her face and
deliver a sperm dinner, express, to her stomach.
Vicky was shocked, as much as she could be, when his cock
trembled and jerked in her mouth. Her throat was naturally trying to
repulse the intruder, but that wasn't it. She was vaguely troubled by
him cumming, as much as she could be while she was cumming herself.
Wasn't he supposed to fuck her ass? When would that happen?
Vicky's face was as much accusing as troubled as she looked up
at him, tears squeezed from the coners of her eyes by the ordeal of
taking his cock deep in her thoat.
"It's a party!" he told her. "You don't want to just get it over,
do you? There's going to be a build-up all day!"
There wasn't much she could do about it, considered Vicky as she
swallowed to ease the raw feeling of his jizm burning in her throat. He
had shot off. There was nothing that would get that back.
She brightened a bit when she considered that it meant he would
be even more enthusiastic and last longer when he did fuck her ass and
make her an official Mother-grade ass slut at last.
For Susan it had a darker portent. If they were just warming up,
what was she going to be forced to do during the big event? She
suspected they wouldn't repeat themselves, so it would be something
more that perform oral sex on her daughter. She didn't want to think
what it might be.
"Oh my, we don't want you to feel left out," he said to Susan as
Vicky dismounted her face.
Her daughter's crotch was quickly replaced by his fading erection
as soon as Susan straightened her neck and lifted her head from the
bed. She hesistated a moment as his cock bumped her lips and then
opened her mouth with resignation to let him push it in.
"You don't want to do all the work at your party," he said to
Vicky's skeptical look. "You come here and I'll get you ready while she
gets me ready."
There was a tangle of feet to avoid and he at first threw an arm
around her waist to steady himself, but then she purred happily as his
hand slid down her butt and she felt his finger tickle around the rim
of her asshole.
He had one hand braced on the footboard to lower his cock to her
mother's mouth and his position was awkward. Vicky opened her eyes in
annoyance as his hand left her ass. She was reassured as she saw him
push it back between her legs. This time she felt his palm on her pussy
and his finger slipped into her asshole.
"And not a drop of lube," he praised her, "You are an ass-slut."
Her mother sucking his dick- unwillingly, and his hand rubbing
her pussy while his finger burrowed in her ass: Vicky decided she was
content with the arrangement. And just as she decided, it changed.
"This is worthless," he said, standing up. "She can't suck worth
shit."
Susan found herself on the bottom of the pair, directly under his
bottom, in fact, with Vicky straddling her to face him. He was back to
stroking and fondling Vicky with the occasional sneak attack of
twisting a nipple or pinching her. Susan found herself in the same
servile position as before.
"If you can't suck properly, then tongue my balls," he ordered
her as he squatted over her face.
Susan didn't try to be subtle or good. She licked his balls
monotonously but he didn't seem to notice. He was too busy making Vicky
squeal and squirm as he paid homage to her precious breasts.
He knew what that meant, and while he had not neglected the bags
of fun before, he was now making a point of paying attention to Vicky's
breasts. He knew it had a double attraction for her, both of the normal
sensation he invoked and her personal pride in the size of her chest.
"Ohhh!" she gasped and her half-closed eyes went wide when he
yanked both nipples with a particularly hard jerk.
"You like that, don't you?" he asked as he held his grip on the
tight-drawn nubs and closed his fingers tighter and tighter as she
winced.
"It hurts! -- So good!" Vicky said in separate gasps as the pain
increased.
"Then maybe we should add a birthday spanking to the party," he
said as he released her nipples and let her breasts drop back into
their normal shape before soothing them with his palms.
Vicky grinned evilly at him. She wasn't the pain slut she thought
she was, but he could see that she appreciated the idea. Anything new
and kinky attracted her. He knew there was more than one reason to hang
around.
He was going to keep feeding her ideas about what he had planned.
Who knew? he might come up with something that would make it better
like he had the sandwich with Alan on her birthday. But mostly his plan
was to distract her from what was really going to happen.
He had just about enough of Susan lapping at his balls. It was
mildly amusing, as anything stroking his balls would be, but it wasn't
getting anything done. He had a better use for Susan's tongue, one that
would turn up Vicky's excitement and give him a chance to recover in
his own time.
"Now you need to do your share," he looked down at Susan after
he slid backwards off her face.
He went around behind Vicky and pushed her toward her mother's
mouth. He pushed her until her pussy caught on Susan's nose.
"Now lick that asshole and get your daughter ready," he told her.
Vicky wiggled in delight as her mother's tongue touched her
asshole. He was storing up treasure in heaven by catering to Vicky's
tastes. He was also distracting her so he could amuse himself with
Susan's tits. He knew he would lose all her goodwill if she saw he
was playing with her mother's larger and envied breasts.
Not that he meant to please Susan at all. He was amused by her
reaction when he applied the same mistreatment to her tits that Vicky
seemed to like. Each twist of the big, brown nipples made Susan drive
her tongue against her daughter's asshole.
"Stick your tongue into that asshole," he told Susan as he
emphasized the order by twisting both of her nipples at the same time.
"Deep as you can push it," he told her, squeezing her left nipple
cruelly to drive home his insistence.
Seeing the chain reaction of Susan's squirming and her tongue's
reaction making Vicky squirm was working wonders in his groin. He spit
on his finger and reached between Susan's legs to probe at her asshole.
That worked as good as torturing her nipples to make Susan's
tongue active in her daughter's asshole. He traded off the two,
tweaking a nipple and then pushing his finger deeper in Susan's ass.
"I hope you're getting hard..." Vicky gasped as her mother's
tongue squirmed in her asshole, "I want something... Something big
in my ass!"
"Okay, baby, but you're not dressed for it," he teased her.
"What do mean?" she asked.
It gave him time to extract his finger from Susan's butt as she
turned around. He skidded to the edge of the bed to reach under to his
trove of treasure. He pulled out the heels.
"I thought we'd use these they way they were meant to be used,"
he told her, holding them up.
"You're going to fuck me in the shower?" she asked.
"Just put them on," he said, "You'll find out."
He didn't make her struggle trying to buckle on the absurd shoes
while hanging in mid-air. He pulled her legs over the side of the bed,
plopping Vicky on her butt, and did them up for her. He gave her his
hand to help her up and reached under the bed for the other surprise as
she tottered precariously away.
"Now up on your knees," he yanked on of Susan's ankles to make
her move.
"What's that?" Vicky asked as she saw the contraption in his
hand.
"Just the bestest thing for my girl and her mom," he said,
holding it up.
He buckled it around her waist sungly. He pulled the thin leather
straps outside the swell of each buttock and drew them up very tight,
untill he could see her ass lifted high. Then he took her hand and
smoothed down the triangular leather that went from the belt to the
proud new cock that hung from the harness.
"Why don't you start?" he asked, squeezing a dollop of lube on
his fingers and handing her the tube.
Her eyes narrowed, not in scorn, but because she was smiling so
broadly. Vicky understood it at once. She strutted to the end of the
bed, her new cock swinging proudly in front of her.
"You better be a slut for this," Vicky warned her mother as she
rested the cock on her mother's asshole and dripped the lube from ass
down the length of the rubber appliance.
She smoothed the lube over the cock and over her mother's ass
with her fingers as he came up behind her and applied his fingerful of
lube to her ass.
It was going to be just right, he estimated. He was going right
up Vicky's ass without straining- himself at least. She was a bit low,
but he knew how to fix that. And he wanted the slightest bit of room
so he could lift up into his thrusts.
Susan hadn't needed to see Vicky putting on the harness to know
what was coming. She could feel the pliant latex at the entrance to
her anus. All seeing it had done was show her that it was modeled on
a penis. She could feel that it was modeled on a large penis.
Susan grunted when Vicky pushed forward. That was only natural
because the thick head displaced the air in her lungs with its volume.
She was beyond all other protest coping with the way her sphincter
was stretched by the thick latex head.
"Hold her so she doesn't get away," he suggested.
Vicky leaned just a bit to grab her mother's shoulders. That was
just the elevation and spreading he needed. He lifted his cock to
Vicky's ass to give her the big hundred.
"Hey! ... OH!..." Vicky gasped out as he nudged and then pushed
his cock in her ass.
He was fucking both of them, whatever Vicky thought. She was
lubricated only just enough to keep their flesh from sticking and each
push from him made her jerk forward and bury more of her latex cock
in Susan's ass.
By her calculations, she was an ass-slut now. She should be able
to take it as dry as would be comfortable for him, he reasoned. And
how was she going to back out on the big deal 100th, especially when
that included fucking her mother in the ass?
"It feels so big!"
He thought Vicky was speaking for herself and Sue. For his part,
it was tighter, as Vicky was finding it impossible to relax while he
pushed into her, next best thing to, unprepared asshole. It was a party
for both of them and if he was having more fun, whose fault was that?
That part didn't last long as Vicky warmed to the action. As big
as his cock felt in her ass, she knew the one she was shoving up her
mother's ass was bigger. Over the surprise, even viewing it as an
obvious extention of their games, Vicky began doing her own fucking and
let whatever that caused in her own ass happen.
He was forced to give up the idea he was fucking them both as
Vicky went into action. To hold onto it kept him mostly pressed to
Vicky's ass as she moved in and out of her mother. It was better to
let Vicky fuck both of them and simply wait one cock-length away as she
moved back on his cock as she pulled out of her mother and away as
she drove the latex dick into Susan. What had he thought before? If she
was having more fun, whose fault was that?
"Does it feel big in your ass too, Mother?" Vicky began to badger
Susan as she found she was fucking her own ass as she fucked her
mother's. "Or can't you tell after a while? Is your ass so used to it
that it doesn't even know?"
Vicky knew her mother wouldn't give her the satisfaction of an
answer. Her mocking grew more strident because the more she felt his
cock in her ass, the more she worked to get more. Her jerking back and
forth built into a frantic wiggle fucking both her and her mother.
Finally, he slammed into both of them. There was no need to lift
into his thrust. It was interesting, he thought briefly, solid, like
driving Vicky against a table, but with the slightest double bounce of
the two butts compressing under him. Then thought was washed away with
a white stream.
He stumbled a little as he backed away, feeling like a marathon
runner that had finally crossed the finish line. Happy 100th, he
thought.
Vicky remained tight against her mother's ass for a while longer.
There had been something almost... religious in that fuck. She was
sorting out her reaction to taking it in the ass while she fucked her
mother. Driving his cock up her own ass to fuck her mom, or fucking her
mom to get his cock in her ass- however she looked at it, resonated in
a strange way.
It was like reward and punishhment- except in this case it was
reward and reward. No- it was more like give some, take some... She
struggled with her own attempt to restate the Law of Karma. She
stumbled because it wasn't: what goes around comes around, but: I move
up to give and back to take.
She finally stumbled back herself, tottering on the platforms and
turned her big dick toward him.
"I liked that," she summed up.
It might have been the best week since he had shown up to enforce
Vicky's horrible blackmail. It was the week with the least abuse- of a
physical kind- since then. He and Vicky were busy doing everything they
could think of now that Vicky's obession with ass-fucking had reached
its goal.
It might have been the best, but her vacation from being poked
and prodded whenever she was wanted came with a dark cloud. The reason
Mr. Jameson was leaving her alone was to keep her 'fresh' for the
Friday sales meeting. He had left no doubt what would be expected of
her then.
"Make your excuses, make up a story," he warned her, "You
certainly won't be home early on Saturday. You might not make it by
Saturday night."
That wasn't quite right. Mr. Jameson had left many doubts about
what might be expected of her. She'd be fucked. That was sure. How and
what else might be required haunted her. There was also a question of
how many representatives would be 'given her services' to enjoy.
It left Susan to worry about Friday and dread its approach. It
was worse trying to shut it out. Then the shadowy, unimaginable things
danced around the edge of thought, more frightening than the blank
unknown she confronted when she thought about it.
In that sense her tormentor helped her. His main avenue, now that
he was busy fucking himself into a daily stupor with Vicky, was to have
her repeat her instructions and then have her make guesses what might
happen to her. He made her think about it and he made her realize that
she had no concept of what use she might be put to.
The unknown became more unsettling the closer Friday approached.
Susan was on the edge of panic as she arrived on Friday. Mr. Jameson's
knowing smile was like a stick poking her fears all day. She was
hunched and jumpy when she walked into the big conference room in the
last hour of the day.
"This is Susan," Mr. Jameson introduced her. "She will help you
'hammer' out the details of the deal we've discussed."
She had no practice being the frightened drab. Susan
automatically stood up straight and surveyed the room with an even
stare when she was introduced. It was still business, no matter how
depraved a business it might be.
There were five of them, five and a translator for the two
Japanese business men, making six. It little mattered if it was five or
six given the uncertainty what these men might want. She was certain of
one thing, however. They were business men and they were men, both
attributes meaning that they would compete to be the raunchiest, the
meanest, and the most abusive of them all.
Doubling up and counting the sofa-bed, all six could sleep at the
company condo. Susan doubted there would be much sleeping. In addition,
all the representatives, except the one from 75 miles away, had suites
at a hotel. Susan doubted they would leave to take advantage of that
either.
She had been entrusted with the key and had to welcome them to
the scene of her coming shame. In some way that was the worst of all
the rest. They all had the impression that she was whoring herself
willingly. All the time they... whatever they would think of to do to
her, they would believe she was depraved enough to consent. They would
think her capable of things she couldn't even imagine.
Despite herself, Susan began to let down her guard. They wanted
her to take off her clothes. Mr. Jameson had convinced them it wasn't
allowed at the office and now they wanted to see. They seemed like so
many naughty boys as she complied. She didn't do any elaborate teasing,
just took off each piece while turning in a circle so everyone could
see.
What she heard was complimentary, but she was suspicions the
Japanese were making rude comments that the translator didn't
translate. Then came some awkward moments as they tried to decide what
to do and who would go first. She felt like the only mature adult in
the room as they stationed her in one of the upstairs bedrooms and
came up one by one.
They wanted blow-jobs. The Japanese men wanted to fuck her some
too, and then finish in her mouth. And yes, the translator was included
in the line of cocks Susan took in her mouth, sucked and then felt hose
her mouth with disgusting scum. It wasn't nice, but she felt she'd
wasted a lot of worry.
Naked cocktail waitress? Even with the inevitable gropes and
fingers inserted in her, it was almost laughably tame. Once, a long
time ago, it might have had an impact equal to their delight, but
those days were so long gone Susan couldn't remember them clearly.
The Japanese were in a long conversation with the translator.
Since they pointed at her while talking, Susan was sure she was the
topic.
"Mr. Takahama would like to show you an old Japanese art, please,"
the translator announced. "He will tie up this lady in a
traditional and artful way."
Mr. Takahama even took off his coat to demonstrate. The translator
emerged from the kitchen with a long coil of quarter-inch hemp and
Susan found she was the worktable for this work of art. He began with a
hitch around her arm and wrapped her shoulders before setting off on
an intricate patterns of loops that pulled back on themselves and
tightened down to patterns on her flesh as they were drawn tight.
She was left bound about the knees, heels to thighs, her belly
crossed in a diamond pattern that was topped by a narrow "X" around her
breasts that pinched them and held them out from her chest. This was
based in the series of loops about her shoulders that dropped a narrow
lead to keep her arms, bound palm to elbow, at the height he had
placed them.
As a flourish, part of the ritual she assumed, the knot of a
scarf was pushed in her mouth and tied behind her head.
She was now helpless and available as well as a work of art and
skill. Much backslapping, verbal and actual ensued as they examined
the way Sue had been trussed and made immobile. A few had immediately
fondled her, but it was some time before the first brave soul took
his cock out in front of the rest and came over to ram it in her.
"Yes, you see?" the translator was bursting to explain. "Mr.
Takahama does not use rope between legs. It holds legs open instead.
This is improvement on ancient art."
The man didn't seem much on improvements. He wanted to put
Susan on the sofa and fuck her. When he pushed her to the back, Sue
had the precarious feeling of tipping off before the man rammed into
her and fucked her back into the cushions. He held her knees like they
were levers and shook her on his cock for his own pleasure.
Mr. Takahama was up as soon as the man withdrew. Susan wondered
if his eagerness was international pride, some polite response to a
cultural faux pas that had just been committed, or simply claiming his
place in the pecking order. He spoke Japanese.
"Mr. Takahama explains this way of tying is very useful," the
translator said.
With that, Susan found her fear of falling doubled as Takahama
turned her on her stomach. But she was only to swing until her knees
hit the side of the sofa. If she was more secure in her place, she
felt twice as vulnerable. Off to the side she saw Takahama looking in
a bag he brought. He brought out a small bottle.
Susan already understood. The squirt of an oily substance on her
asshole was only confirmation. She was more amazed that the Japanese
packed their own sex toys for the business trip.
She revised her previous list to include creator's pride as she
felt Takahama sink into her ass with an exclamation. She was sure he
was going to release the excitement built up during his careful ropework
with a comparable session reaming her ass.
Takahama released his excitement, but not in the way Susan had
expected. She looked like some strange fish creature with her feet
flopping where they extended over her ass in their bindings as the
stocky man slammed into her asshole with all the fury he could muster.
She might have put it to showing off in front of the other
representatives if she had been able to do anything but struggle for
breath. She was facedown in the sofa with her arms pulled uncomfortably
behind her back and the gag impeding the alternate airway of her mouth.
She tried to think of it as a blessing that distracted her from the
urgent stab of Takahama's stout cock ripping into her asshole as hard
as he could drive it.
The need to breathe also took away her ability to pity herself as
she suffered Takahama's energetic butt-fuck. That ability returned, if
only to note that four were yet to fuck her, in the brief space between
Takahama pulling his spent cock from her ass and the other, as yet
unnamed, Japanese man took his place.
This man was slightly better endowed, at least he had a longer
cock than Takahama, and he began a deliberate thrusting that was long
and slow, ending with a definite hard lunge into her ass at the end of
each stroke. This, at least, made it easier for Susan to breathe and
she could muse that these men not only had a talent for making women
helpless, but the sadistic passions to make it necessary.
He grabbed the rope extending from her shoulders to her arms and
shook it as he speared into her ass. He jerked the rope in a way that
Susan thought might be demanding something, but as she was tied as to
be nearly motionless, she couldn't fathom what he might want.
Once Mr. Takahama had opened the concept of her ass, everyone
wanted to try it. The other Japanese man finished with a flurry that
rivalled Mr. Takahama's fury and exceeded it in power, then jerked his
cock out of her ass. She teetered on the edge of the sofa for a moment
and then jerked as someone slapped her sharply on the left cheek.
"Tightens 'em right up so they're good fuckin' again," said a
voice with a hint of a drawl as Sue jerked again at the same treatment
of her right cheek.
She thought mutinously that the man was repeating folk wisdom
when he put his cock in her ass and lasted for about thirty seconds of
furious but rather gentle fucking. She wondered if he'd ever fucked
anyone in the ass before.
She waited sullenly for the next cock... and waited, until she
realized the other two were not going to fuck her. Repressing a snort
at their snub, although she was far from eager for her ass to be
invaded, she was again taken by thoughts of what else might be planned.
They had barely creased the evening and not all of them had even
cum twice. She was sure there was too much left in store. Even if they
were satisfied, they wouldn't admit it in front of the others. And there
were other horrible things they could do to her to amuse themselves
that didn't depend on their lust.
"No, no," a voice broke into her reverie, "No disrespect. It's a
fine bit of sport- very arty and all, but I for one would like to have
her move more."
There must have been some support for this because Susan felt
herself tipped backwards into someone's hands and Mr. Takahama again
loomed over her, undoing his rope work. Susan's legs straightened out
when released and she felt cramps she hadn't noticed. Her arms, on the
other hand, were almost too painful to move and she spent some time
gripping her opposite elbow before she gathered the courage to bring
them around to a normal position.
The men were gathered around, watching this with grinning faces.
She couldn't believe they were still ogling her nudity. She decided it
was her pain that amused them.
Fucking men are all the same, she thought, knowing it was a lie
as she thought it. Even these men would be different if she was allowed
her normal dignity. What was the same, was their reaction to helpless
prey. They knew she couldn't do anything to them, had to take what they
wanted. That was what was the same.
"It isn't faggy," one of the men was arguing, "Anyway, I didn't
think you guys worried about that so much."
This man was in discussion with the translator, who was taking
exception to being included as one of 'you guys' at the moment. He was
just as American as any of them, he argued.
Whatever they decided led to two naked men standing over Susan
and pulling her up. Then, for fun she guessed, she was back on her
knees sucking the translator's cock.
"Go ahead, grab her," the other man urged him, "Jameson said
she's real agreeable. Pull her up tight and fuck her if you want."
Rather than fear, although this may have been because the
translator made no move to listen to the other man, Susan felt anger
at Jameson. Where did he get off encouraging these men to treat her
roughly? Was it because he didn't have the courage himself- had to
work himself up to the half-hearted effort he put forth?
Her righteous indignation only served her momentarily. The other
man or the translator was impatient and she was pulled again to her
feet. Somehow her poor imagination jumped ahead as she watched the
translator lie on the sofa and was positioned over him. There was only
one meaning she could put to the situation.
She wouldn't have thought of it at all, but for Vicky's birthday.
She settled down on the translator's cock wondering what it would be
like when the other man fucked her ass. Here she was supposed to be
the slut, and only now was she catching up to Vicky, she thought
sourly.
The thoughts of her other problems, her tormentor and her
daughter, were too bitter and wouldn't help. She tried to clear them
from her mind as she was bent down until her breasts rested on the
translator's chest. Then she only had to face the other cock pushing
rudely into her still touchy asshole while the translator's cock
filled the channel next to it.
It felt like she had two cocks in her. As little as she liked
having any one of their cocks in her, it was disgusting, but she had
to admit it was better than she hoped. There were two places for a
cock down there. Her asshole was an unfortunate and unsettling port of
call, but she found that having a cock in her pussy and her ass to be
only slightly more troubling than the cock in her ass.
It was congested, to be sure, but the primary sensation she felt
was that the cock in her ass jammed her fuller because it had no place
to go with the other cock rubbing against it. The cock in her pussy was
irritating only because it gave her unwanted urges to move her ass and
fuck it to relieve the pressure in her bowels.
She didn't have to work to supress the urges because the man
fucking her asshole was moving her ass for her as well as stabbing
deep in her rectum. She rocked at the command of his hands and endured
the double penetration trying not to think about it.
She was forced to think again when the man in her ass finished
in another hard flurry, reminiscent of the last two, pulled out, and
she was dropped to the floor beside the sofa on her knees. The
translator had obviously not been as involved in the process as the
ass-fucker. Her head was pushed at his cock and this time it wasn't
left to the translator to decide about forcing her.
Hands from behind held her head and neck and pushed her head
down farther than she could bear every time her motion took her down
toward the translator's belly. She tried to stop farther away so that
the push would not be so onerous, but it seemed whoever's hands they
were, were pushing her down to a goal and not a distance. Her nose was
bumping belly when the translator came and she had what felt like an
hour's panic as the burning, choking cum tormented her and the hands
held her tightly at this maximum depth.
So that was twice around the circle. Susan only expected a lull,
not a cessation. They would try to out-do each other. Certainly they
were all good for three repetitions, some probably more, perhaps many
more.
She felt as superior as a naked women full of their sperm could
feel as she knelt by the sofa. After her frightening fears, they had
been predictably mundane so far. It was the 'so far' that bothered her
as she remembered the admittedly surprising span trussed like a package
for them to enjoy.
But even as her mind turned away from thinking about what might
come, she realized that her disgust was absent. She had not, did not,
care that these men were seeing her and using her this way. She felt
as disturbed by the treatment as she would normally, but there was no
feeling of shame at being put to it. She realized she had become
callused to even this as she had become numb to her daughter and her
daughter's lover.
She didn't even care when one of them said, "Liked the ropes and
all, but see? You don't have to hold this one down to get her to do
whatever you want."
There was a flurry of Japanese and then the translator said, "Mr.
Takahama agrees. But he says the point is pretending that a passive
woman might fight."
It seemed the translator went on on his own, "Traditional
Japanese women are always passive. What Mr. Takahama means is that the
ropes were to provide their husbands with the feeling of conquest,
since their women would never resist."
Susan was less than interested in their conversation. She
listened only for a clue what they might try to force on her next.
Most of it was simply contemptuous remarks about how she took it
because she wanted it and couldn't admit it. They were more vague about
what they might want to do about it.
Her concern was that they were drinking heavily as they had
their sport. For some time this seemed to be no cause for worry. She
was not called on to perform, either sexually or as some obscene
object. She was only subjected to occasional gropes and pinches.
Then the discussion became raucous, even rowdy: Some thought
that they should attack Susan in a free-for-all; a couple, led by Mr.
Takahama, favored whipping her; and one drunken voice wondered where
they might find a dog to fuck her. Susan felt the time of the
unimagined horror approaching.
But in the end, they simply threw her on a bed (where they'd be
comfortable) and fucked her, had her suck their cocks, and buggered
her as they wished. She found herself often with a cock in her pussy
or ass and sucking another. One pair tried to re-create the sandwich,
but the man on top was too drunk to find her moving ass and waited
until the man under her was done to probe her rectum.
Battered and bruised, but somehow triumphant, Susan took what
delight she could in disappointing him with the story. He felt more
strongly than she had the puerile advances of the men.
He could abuse her more in his sleep. He wished they had at
least found a dog. And he sensed, from her clear and unhesitating
recount, that even fucking strangers had lost its horror for her.
No matter. There had been terror leading up to this discovery
and perhaps more awaiting on some other adventure. He was less
interested now that Vicky was eager to explore every interesting
twist of sex he could introduce.
Having reached their goal, his most recent adventure up Vicky's
rectum had been, very satisfyingly he had to admit, an actual shower
ass-fuck where they proved the platforms worked as well as they planned.
It was better in several ways from the previous attempt, both in his
comfort and hers. His was solved by her height on the precarious shoes.
Hers came from Vaseline, which the exciting drum of the water that
cascaded over them while he poked his cock in her rear did not dispurse.
Susan was the cash cow, and more cow now since her lack of
response no longer attracted him to use her. He didn't need a docile
cunt, particularly one that had been so well used by a crowd of men,
when he had the fresh, eager body of a teenager to use.
There might be more fun to be had with Susan, but for the time
being, he was happy to open new avenues of pleasure for Vicky and himself.
###