Ron Taylor

Stepdaughter in bondage

CHAPTER ONE

It was about eleven-thirty when we got back from the funeral home. I wished I could have stayed there all night, but the undertaker assured me it wasn't permitted. "We close at eleven," he said, in the oily, unctuous way undertakers have of talking. Fuck you! I thought, clenching a fist, turning away. And when I turned, Tony was there, waiting for me. I looked up at his face and it made me sick.

I got out of the car in the driveway and hurried into the house while Tony parked. With any luck I could be in my room before he came inside. He was the last person in the world I wanted to spend a night with – tonight, of all nights. My mother was dead and lying in a coffin back at the mortuary, but as far as Tony seemed to be concerned, she might as well have been out late, bowling with the girls from the plant.

Tony is – was – my stepfather. Mom married him three years ago, when I was fifteen. I guess they were happy together. He worked days at the mine and she worked nights at the Westinghouse plant. Which meant that when I got home from school around four, I could count on at least eight hours in the company of my loving stepdaddy. The last year or two I'd been seriously considering night school. Only, in our town, there wasn't one.

My name is Rebecca Lee Butler. I don't like to be called "Becky" and "Becca" makes me cringe. I'm five feet three inches tall, I weigh 104 pounds, and I'm slender, as long as you don't count my tits, which are a little over-developed for my frame. Not big enough to be ungainly or silly looking, but full and thrusting, just made to nestle inside the cups of a 36-C brassiere.

And this evening, this awful, awful evening, Rebecca Lee Butler went into the house where she had lived all her life, closed the door behind her, and made ready to go to bed. Like, fast! Before Tony had time to get inside from parking the car.

He's good-looking in a crude way, I guess, sorta like Sylvester Stallone, only taller and a lot mote stuck on himself. When Mom met him, she was thirty-six and he was thirty-one and he must have seemed like a fantastic catch for a woman slipping into middle age and kinda desperate. My daddy died when I was ten and I guess she was getting lonely. This younger, muscled hunk comes along and she just falls like an apple in season. It happens all the time, they tell me. And so one day I had a brand new daddy in the house and Mom didn't have to sleep by herself any longer.

I used to hear them going at it all night long, sometimes. I suppose he really socked it to her. She used to moan in the dark, and it sounded like a coyote on the prowl. The bedsprings rattling and creaking, Tony making soft little grunting noises like a bass-line for Mom's higher-pitched cries. For a while she looked as if she'd been able to turn back the aging process altogether. Her cheeks pinkened and her eyes sparkled and she looked very, very happy.

Me? Well, I was fifteen when they got married, and I was already starting to blossom a little, if you know what I mean. My breasts were still small, mostly swollen, aching nipples, but they were too big to hide under a cotton undershirt or camisole any longer. My waist began to nip in and my hips to fill out, and I had my first period about two months after the wedding, and I knew that I was swiftly turning into a woman.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. I think the first time I caught him, I was around thirteen. In my room, innocently getting dressed for a sock hop at the junior high. I remember I had just slipped out of my sweatshirt and was reaching for my pink, flower-cup bra. My jeans were laid out on the bed, and I wasn't wearing anything except my panties and fluffy slippers. I picked up my bra and there was a curious sensation at the roots of my teeth, a kind of nervous tingle. What's that? I wondered, and then I made a half-turn and looked at my bedroom window, and there he was. Tony. My stepfather. Leaning on the window frame, watching me through the glass. His mouth was turned up at the corners in a dirty, knowing smile.

My first reaction was sheer panic. The bra was the only thing I had in my hands and I threw it, right at his grinning face. My brassiere hit the window glass and fluttered to the floor and lie still stood there, grinning like a possum eating shit. I covered my tits with one arm and slouched down to the floor in a desperate, embarrassed crouch and huddled there, sobbing, till he went away. It seemed like hours.

When I got home from the dance, he was sitting up in the kitchen with a bottle of beer. "Hi, kid," he said. "But then, you're not a kid any more, are you?" He got up from his chair and started toward me. I was frozen with fear. I wanted to scream for Mom, but it was Friday night and she was still at the plant. Tony stretched out his hand. His fingers touched my shoulder. I shrank down, gurgling with terror.

"C'mere," he said, beer-breathed. His fingers tightened on my shoulder and he gave a little pull. I stumbled, lurched toward him. He reached up with his other hand and the fingers closed on the soft little swell of my left breast. Even through my sweater and I could feel the heat of his fingers the defiling dirt of them.

I shivered, said "No," and tried to wriggle loose, but my body felt like a hundred pounds of jello. He clenched with both hands, one on my shoulder, one on my tit, and I arched back, a scream fluttering on my lips, ready to burst forth at any moment.

"Not so little at all." Tony grinned, and he leaned his face toward mine. I'd never been kissed for real at thirteen, but somehow I knew he was going to kiss me. And I didn't want it, didn't want those beer-flavored lips on mine, didn't want his hands touching me in naughty places.

There was a sound from the other end of the house. It was the living room door, opening then shutting Mom had come in!

Tony heard it too. He cursed softly – "Goddamn it!" – and then he let go of me. The scream I'd been ready to make died on my lips and all I could do was stand there and shiver. Cold sweat was flooding my armpits and I felt chilly and hot, chilly and hot, in quick alternation, all over. Tony brushed past me, through the swinging door, into the hallway. "Hello, babe," I heard him say jovially, and then there was the sound of bodies coming together.

When I slipped into the hall I had a quick flash of him and my mother, entwined, kissing passionately, where the living room empties into the hallway. Her back was to me and I saw his hands, stroking and cupping her ass while they kissed. Once he looked over his shoulder, right at me, and the look in his eyes was horrible. It seemed to say "You're next!"

I shouted my greeting and parting to Mom and I hurried into my own room. I locked the door behind me and then sat on my bed, still afraid to get undressed and under the covers. They did it a long time that night, while I sat across the hall listening to the scarcely-muffled sounds of passion and sex.

He's doing it to her, I thought. And he'd be doing it to me, if he had the chance. The reality of that stung me in the belly while I lay in bed and it was like a hot knife plunging into my body. I doubled up, knees tight against my little breasts, and I sobbed into my pillow. All night long. I was red-eyed and shivery when morning came. It was the first time I'd ever seen the gray light of dawn come creeping into my bedroom window.

That was not quite two years ago. For a while, Tony seemed content just to sit back and watch me grow. His eyes sparkled each time I had to get a bigger-size bra, each time Mom made me come out and model some freshly-purchased dress or pantsuit. And in the summer – well, once I made the mistake of lying in the backyard sunning in a new, string bikini.

The sun was so warm and pleasant, my body throbbing as the solar rays played across me, that I lost sail track of time. All of a sudden I turned over and there he was, standing in the doorway with a can of beer in his hand. And there was a huge lump in his pants, not far below his belt. I was fourteen then, and I knew exactly what that lump signified. I sat up fast, grabbing a towel, hiding myself behind it.

Tony grinned again – I knew that grin too well – and he pinched hard with his fingers, crushing the beer can between them. I felt a twinge in my belly. Those fingers had pinched hard on me. Only once, but I'd never forgotten how they felt. I could never forget that.

"Stay away from me," I said as he stepped down onto the grass. We were maybe eight feet apart. I drew my legs back defensively, looked at my fingernails, wondering if they were sharp enough to do him any damage.

"Hello, Rebecca," said a voice behind me. I turned, and it was Mrs. Swanson, from next door. She was leaning on the fence that divided our backyards, her fat pink face shining. You can't imagine the sigh of relief that I breathed then, the delight I felt to see her chubby features. She was just like a guardian angel. I stood up, wrapping myself in the towel, and I chatted across the fence for a few moments. During the conversation I heard the back door of the house slam and I could sense, without looking, that Tony had gone inside.

Tony bid off on a new job at the mines and for the next six or eight months he was on afternoon shift. Those were happy months. I could come home from school, knowing that I was alone in the house. I could do almost anything I wanted, provided I got it done before twelve or twelve-thirty. I guess I took advantage of it.

I learned to drink beer and wine. I learned to smoke grass like a pro. I even got fucked. Twice. Once because I wanted to see how it felt. I mean, I was the only virgin left in Reckardsville, so I let Bucky Rothman do it to me on the living room couch one Friday evening when we should have been studying algebra. It was his first time too, though I didn't know that till later.

It wasn't much. He came too fast, spraying me with his semen as he tried to get his rod out of me before it went off, and the only thing I kit was a sharp, stinging pain as his cock ripped through my cherry. The pain only lasted a few moments but it was very unpleasant and, wiping my belly with a tissue, I remember assuring myself that I would never go through anything as demeaning as this again, no matter if all the other kids were doing it. I could think of lots more pleasant ways to spend my time. It seemed so Goddamned silly. Spreading my legs while a boy worked his rod into my tight hole, gritting back the urge to scream in pain as he drove up me, feeling the jerk of his cock as it neared ejaculation while I just lay there numb and frustrated? I could do a lot better with my middle finger and a warm bathtub.

The second time I let myself be screwed, it seemed like a good idea. There was this boy named Norman, of all things, and from the time I met him he was all I could think about. So one night I invited him over to the house for a study date. We watched TV for a while and then started kissing and making out, and in short order he was really stiff in his pants and I was rubbing him with the flat of my hand, making him even stiffer, if that could be possible.

"Rebecca," he murmured into my mouth, "unzip me – feel me – oh, God, I don't believe this is happening! Is it really happening? Is it?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm," I purred, sliding his zipper down and reaching inside. I had felt a few cocks since my first sexual experience, but I'd never gotten serious with any of them. I fished him out of his tight shorts, pulled the hard throbbing rod into the lamplight. He seemed pretty well hung to me at the time, though I didn't know an awful lot about hung then. I slid my fist up and down his length, felt the tingle and throb of his pulse as it pumped fresh blood into his pecker and kept him rock-hard, and we kissed a little longer. Sometime during the kiss he started easing my head down, toward his cock.

I knew about cocksucking, though not from personal experience. I knew enough to be aware that it didn't really hurt you, though to have a boy squirt cum into your mouth was a pretty sickening things all my girlfriends agreed. Norman seemed determined that I should suck him now.

"Lick me," I heard him groan. "Just lick me a couple of times. Please?" And all the while he was pushing my head down.

What the hell? I figured. It wouldn't kill me. I thrust out my tongue and slid it across the warm, damp head of his penis.

Mmmmm, I thought. It's not bad. A kind of fresh, slightly salted meat taste to him. Most of the salt seemed to be concentrated on the very tip of Norman's rod, where it was deeply, boldly cleft and where a little trickle of wetness seemed to be oozing rhythmically from inside his cock. I tapped it again with my tongue, felt once more that curious little tingle as his flavors assaulted my taste buds. Could be worse, I thought, opening my mouth. I brought it down over him, lodging the tip of him inside my teeth. I closed my mouth and sucked, very hard.

"Owwwwwww! Yeahhhhh!"

That was Norman, getting excited. He still had me by the head and he was trying to stuff his entire cock into my mouth, lunging up from where he sat on the couch. Norman – five inches or so of lunging thrusting meat Rebecca – trying her best to suck a dick the way it was supposed to be sucked. I didn't know very much about it, but I don't believe Norman did either. And you know, I can't tell you what he looked like, because I don't remember. While, at the time, I thought I was head over heels in love with him.

Anyway, I ate him. Not deeply, because I was afraid to get more than the swollen tip of him into my mouth. God, it felt like I was gonna strangle just sucking that much of his dick! My mouth had never felt so full in all my life. But the taste – well, the taste grew more and more – should I say pleasant? – the more I sucked. I think he was squirting off a little cum into my mouth and I was too innocent to realize it. All I noticed was that the meat occasionally tasted as if it were moistened with a light coating of thick gravy.

Somehow we managed to get his cock out of my mouth and then it was just naturally time for me to get undressed. He helped, if you can call it helping. Mostly he fumbled around, and it was really pathetic when he got his fingers onto my bra and tried to undo the clasp. For one thing, he seemed to think I was wearing an old-fashioned bra, where the clasp is in the back.

"Here, dummy," I told him with a sigh, pulling one of his hands around to the flat space between my tits. That was a mistake. He put both hands on my boobs and he didn't seem to care if lie ever got my bra off. He squeezed me as if I were a banana at the fruit market and he were a careful topper testing for freshness. His fingers stuck to my tits as if they'd been glued on and, in the end, I had to undo the clasp myself.

"Let me kiss you," he whispered, kind of reverently, jiggling my titties in his nervous fingers. I nodded, leaned forward and brushed my boobs across his face, my hand dropping into his lap and grabbing the cock I'd had in my mouth.

He sucked at me, and I warmed noticeably as his lips contacted on my breasts. My nipples were getting hard and hot in his mouth and I felt crawly all over. My fist tightened on Norman's dick and I thought I could feel it getting bigger and bigger inside my hand.

"Hurry," I said. "I think I need it right now."

We got ourselves rearranged. I already knew the position, thanks to my session with Bucky Rothman on this very couch no more than four months ago. I lay flat on my back, one foot dangling onto the floor, the other thrown up over the back of the couch. It left me spread, patch of dark hair glistening between my thighs, my panties hanging down behind the couch, caught on the ankle of that foot.

Norman looked at me for a long time. At least it seemed like a long time. His pants were down to his knees and his dick was sticking out, all hard and red. I guess, in retrospect, it was a pretty funny situation. Me with my shirt pulled up and my bra unhooked, the cups hanging down beside my boobs, my jeans on the floor and my panties swinging from one foot. Norman with his pants down, but not oft and his cock lanced out like a flagpole – a five-inch flagpole. But it looked enormous as hell to me and I sucked in my breath, wondering how he'd ever get that big thick thing inside me. It had hurt like hell when Bucky screwed me, as if he were ripping the lining out of my twat, and if I was any judge, Norman had a much bigger cock.

He reached down, slid his hands up and down my bare thighs. I began to squirm about on the sofa, moaning the way I'd heard Mom moan in bed with Tony, cupping my bare tits from underneath, as if I were offering them to Norman.

"Oooooohhh," I said, trying to feel it, wishing I could feel it the way I had felt the need this afternoon. "Ooooohhhh – fuck me, please, Norman, fuck me!" The words sounded only half true to my ears and I wondered why I was even going through with it. I mean, he slid his fingers through my bush and he touched the crack of my twat, and there was a little tingle but it lasted even a shorter time than the pain had, the time my cherry got popped.

But here I was, mostly naked, and as ready as I'd ever be, and just a few hours ago I'd been fantasizing how great it would be when I offered my body and my pussy to Norman Bates. In study ball this afternoon I'd been all squirmy and wet anticipation. Jesus, most of the hour I spent with my schoolbooks in my lap, my hands secretly rubbing the hard square edges of my books and notebooks against the crotch of my jeans, massaging a hot itch that seemed so intense, so passionate…

And now it was about to happen. Norman's hands continued to fumble with my legs, my tits, my cunt, and finally he lay down upon me, breathing hard, trying to coordinate his body so he could lift his crotch and get his dick ready to enter me.

"No," I said, "you're too low… a little higher, Norman… there… can you feel the crack? That's where it goes." And I was thinking, oh, Christ, doesn't he know what he's doing? Was I getting his cherry?

It should have been a beautiful moment, I guess, but everything gotfucked up. He stuffed his cock into me and I was too dry. My eyes bulged and I groaned despite my will for self-control. He stabbed at me with furious intensity, and somehow or another he got it inside me. It wasn't a question of me not feeling anything. Jesus, I felt it! My cunt seemed to be on fire. His cock was in me, shaking desperately, jabbing in and out, and I wasn't lubricating fast enough to keep it from hurting like slit. I strained and bucked beneath him, and he must have mistaken it for heartfelt enthusiasm, because he only screwed himself into me the harder. We finally got our groins together, but my eyes were full of tears. It was no good, I thought sadly. No good at all. He plunged again and my hips reacted automatically, writhing under him, and I ventured finally to open my eyes and take him in.

Norman's face was ecstatic. His eyes were shut tightly and he was humming and purring through a tight-smile mouth. He felt like he weighed three hundred pounds lying atop me, even though he was definitely on the skinny side. And, now that he'd been screwing me for a few minutes, his cock didn't feel so big at all. My pussy was a little wetter, so that he moved more easily, and the wetter I got, the tinier he felt.

This? I thought. This is what it's all about? Jesus!

Norman stiffened atop me without warning. His eyes snapped open and I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. He stuck his tongue out and it was like looking at someone strangled by surprise. His cock gave three or four shuddering stabs into my pussy and then it jerked hard, deep in my cunt, and I knew that he was spilling his juice inside me. Oh, shit, right at the Goddamned mouth of my uterus and with any kind of luck at all, at least ten thousand of his sperm cells would take root in my womb and this time nine months I'd be a mother.

Norman stopped finally, and he lay heavily upon me, sighing and moaning. He lifted his face. "Did you come, Rebecca?" he wanted to know.

I resisted my first impulse, which was to sack him in the mouth. I had better comes just thinking lustfully about my middle finger.

"Oooohhh, did I ever," I lied. "Let me up, please – I have to take care of things."

He slid off me and I sat up. Cum was starting to leak from the lips of my pussy, which were tingly and a hell of a lot sorer than they would have been if I'd fingerfucked myself to ecstasy. I looked down at the little puddle of cream-colored goo that was spilling onto the vinyl sofa cushions. It reminded me of runny snot. Christ! I thought. Suppose he'd done that in my mouth! It seemed I could feel my tummy turning upside down. I grabbed the arm of the sofa for support and tensed myself till the sick urge went away.

"Do you have a hankie or something?" I asked, pointing to my cunt.

He was already looking, staring in fascination at his liquid seed where it oozed from my slit. His face was flushed and – did I mistake the look – was that pride beaming in his eyes? I guess it was. After all, he'd put the first notch on his pistol this evening, thanks to me. And when it was over, when he'd finished squirting his juice up me and rolled off, I felt so fucking empty.

I'd done it once for curiosity, and this time I'd done it for what I was sure was love. But it wasn't love, not now, not when everything was done, and I wondered how I could ever have been so dumb as to think it was? I looked at Norman and for the first time I understood how ratty-looking his face was, how skinny his frame, what a genuine total wimp I had let between my legs. And did that make me a wimp, too? I was almost afraid it did.

Well, I thought, wiping myself with his handkerchief. If I get knocked up, it will be a good lesson to me. I'm never going to do this disgusting act again as long as I live. It's a waste of time.

What about my mother? The noises she made when she was in bed with Tony, late at night? They were doing this very same thing. I was young, but not stupid. I knew what men and women did when they were in bed together. So what if she moaned and purred a lot. She was probably putting on an act for the benefit of her man, the way I'd done with Bucky and Norman.

Norman leaned in, started to kiss my shoulder while I dried my pussy.

"Knock it off," I said. "And you'd better get your pants on and your ass down the road, if you don't want my mother and stepfather to catch you in the middle of things. It's almost time for them to be coming in."

He went dead-white, and he was out the door in less than five minutes. I looked at the clock. Not quite ten-thirty. Mmmmmm. I could either turn on the tube, or I could take a quick shower, rinse my pussy out with the nozzle spray, then go to bed and diddle myself to nirvana. Mom and Tony wouldn't be in for at least two more hours.

I headed for the bathroom, dropping clothes all the way. I'd perfume my snatch after I was done bathing. That way, my finger would plunge into a fragrant pit of pleasure as I rocked and rolled over my little bed.

I began to turn lasciviously beneath the shower spray, drenching myself from head to toe in tingly-hot water. Oh, yeah!

CHAPTER TWO

As I went through the living room, and in spite of everything, I couldn't help looking at the couch and remembering what had happened to me on it. I shook my head. "Get your mind out of the sewer, Butler!" I commanded myself, and I walked on, toward my bedroom. Outside I could hear the garage doors opening. Soon enough – too damned soon – Tony would be in the house with me. God, I thought, if anyone had to die, why couldn't it have been him.

Two days ago. Seemed like a million years, but it wasn't. It was Tuesday evening. Mom was working afternoons, as usual, and Tony had managed to switch back to his usual day-shift job. Which meant that once again I had to share the house with him each and every evening. I used to pray for a layoff at the Westinghouse plant so Mom would be home too. Lately it had been getting worse – a lot worse. I was conscious of his eyes on me, almost all the time. I wasn't a budding young innocent any longer. I wasn't a virgin any more. I knew what I had between my legs and what men would like to do with it. And somehow it seemed obscene to know that my stepfather was interested in that same thing. Obscene, and disgust.

I was getting ready or bed that night. My door was shut but somehow I could sense that he was on the other side of it, looking through the crack. Maybe I could hear his breathing. Maybe it was just a sixth sense operating inside my head. But I knew that as I slipped off my blouse and stood there bare to the waist, I was suddenly aware of being watched.

My breath froze up in my throat. All I could do was stand there. It was like having a spotlight suddenly shined upon you. One moment you're lazing in the darkness and the next, ZAM!! Every eye is staring right at you. I turned as quickly as I could and stood there trembling, afraid to reach back for my nightie, afraid that I'd display myself to him again, the way I'd displayed myself all unknowing a few moments ago.

He frightened me very much. I think it was in his eyes – the way he would stare at me, times when my mother was doing something else. He'd look at me and I could read what was in his eyes, and it wasn't a pretty fairy tale. Why? I used to ask myself. Why me? And so I forced myself to look at Mom candidly. I wished I hadn't. She was no longer a girl. Her waist was thickening and sometime since the last time I'd looked at her, she'd grown old. She was almost forty now, and it was showing. Her face had taken on wrinkles, her skin was spotted here and there. Gray glimmered in her dark hair. If she didn't wear any makeup, her age seemed to double, and if she wore too much makeup, then she looked twice as old as she did without any paint and powder.

Today, I thought, today! I'd gone to school with no bra under my blouse, boobs jiggling around. I did it because it felt nice to be free and unrestrained and because this was the nicest, warmest October day I could remember and I was princess of the world, heir apparent to the throne.

But when I came home, Tony's eyes had dropped at once to the points of my nipples, outlined under the shirt's cling, and I'd gotten red-faced and left the room, and now he was doing more than looking at the outline of my breasts under supple clothing. He was standing on the other side of my bedroom door and he was looking at me and somehow I knew that lust was building his heart and his loins. Lust for me, the daughter of his wife. The fresh, ripe daughter of his graying, aging wife.

The doorknob rattled and my heart jumped into my throat. I spun around, clutching my nightie, as the door opened and Tony slouched against the frame.

He was wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off his broad chest and well-developed biceps, as well as the tattoos on his upper arms. A cigarette dangled from his lips and he held a can of beer in one hand. I held the nightie up, shielding the tits he'd already spied on through the door crack, and my face was scarlet.

"Get out of here," I said weakly. "You have no business in my room."

He tilted his head to one side, then removed the cigarette from his mouth. He dropped it into the beer can. I heard a quick sizzle and he grinned. He put the beer can onto the top of my dresser, just inside the door, and he took three steps toward me. I shrank back, looking up at him. He's six-two, almost a foot taller than I am, and I could smell the beer on his breath. It reminded me of that other time, when I was younger, when he'd spied on me through the window and then tried to feel me up in the kitchen. Two years, and he'd not laid a hand on me in the meantime. But his eyes, oh, God, his eyes! They'd made up for the inactivity of his hands! And now, as I looked into his eyes, I could read a whole novel written on them, a novel set in the future, a novel that starred me and my stepfather and was so dirty, so filthy.

Tony grabbed the nightie I was holding and he tore it out of my fingers. I screamed and threw my hands up to shield my breasts. I didn't know why I had such an urge for modesty. It should have occurred to me that he'd already seen my tits, more than once. But I didn't have any choice about those other times, and I did have a choice now. I covered my breasts and stepped back. The wall blocked me. If I moved back another inch, I'd fall right through the window which Tony had peeked at me.

He looked at me, then before I could move to stop him, he took each of my hands in one of his and spread them wide, very wide. I moaned in protest and started to turn into jelly, but it didn't prevent him from getting an eyeful of my breasts.

They're large breasts, 36-Cs, big, round, high-set, with tip-tilted nipples of a very delicate pink color. I had the remnants of my summer tan, but I'd only tanned with a bikini on, so there was a white patch at the end of each tit. The blue veins showed up very clearly in the untanned flesh, and my titties jiggled as he stretched my arms almost to the breaking point. I looked down, and something was starting to bulge in his pants. I'd seen it before, but the last time I noticed it, I had been a virgin. I wasn't a virgin now, and I knew with sickening clarity what that bulge was, what he intended to do with it.

I began to struggle, saying, "No, let go of me! Damn you, let go!"

"You're too pretty to let go," he said. His eyes were focused low, down my front, one eye apparently glued to each pink nipple. The tension, the strain was causing my nipples to pucker and thrust outward. I could feel a throbbing anxiety at the end of each breast and I didn't have to look down to know that my tits were stiffening in fear. Tony fiddled a second, and without my realizing it, he had both my wrists in the strong, steely grip of one of his fists. He held my hands up, high over my head, and with his free hand he started to paw my body. His fingers dragged with unbearable slowness across my books, lingering to tickle and pinch at my fat swollen nipples, fitting like a tight glove round each heaving mound of flesh in turn. I twisted and squirmed and tried to kick him.

"Goddamn you, let go!"

He only laughed. And his hand tightened on my wrists, tightened till it felt as if the bones were on the verge of snapping in two. I gasped and stood up on tiptoes, and Tony gave me a jerk. "Please," I said.

"I've waited too long for this," he said with a leer. "When you were just a little flower girl at your mother's wedding I took one look at you and said to myself, She's gonna grow up to be a pretty one. And when you got a little older, I told myself, By God, she already is a pretty one! Your titties are bigger than the last time I saw them, Becky." He smiled as he called me "Becky", because he knew how much I hated it, and as he smiled he gave a vicious pinch to my right breast. It made me squeal like a stuck pig.

"Has anybody got into you yet?" he asked, leaning close. So close I could count the number of beers he'd drunk this evening. "Have any of them high school boys drove a cock up your tight little hole? Mmmm, I'll bet it is tight. Tight and juicy. Is that right, Becky? Are you tight and juicy between the legs? Does your little pussy ooze juice when it gets squeezed on? Let me squeeze on it a little, and I'll tell you. But I bet you already know, don't you, Becky?"

His hand was crawling down my belly, toward the snap of my jeans. He unfastened me, started to pull my pants down. I squirmed and fought, I kicked and cursed him, called him a Goddamned motherfucking son of a bitch, but he only laughed.

"I'll tell Ma," I said. "I'll tell her what you did to me."

"She won't believe you," Tony whispered into my ear. His tongue shot out, into my ear, hot on the heels of his whisper. I shivered at the wet sloppy touch of him and I started to slouch. My thigh brushed against the well-filled crotch of his pants, and I started to buck upright again, just about the same time he gave a vicious yank on the hands he had trapped in one big meaty fist, almost wrenching them from their sockets.

He had his hand in my pants by then, feeling me through my undies. I squirmed and twisted, but it seemed that all I did was manage to clamp my thighs together on his fist, trapping it against my pussy.

"No, let go, let go, let goooo!" But he didn't let go. He worked his fist against me, worked it hard and rough, and I felt moisture beginning to coat the inside of my panties. Had he broken something? Was I starting to bleed?

In another moment or two it hit me. My pussy was lubricating, the way it liked to do when I toyed with its furry sweetness. Not this way, I thought. Not for him! Noooo!

He worked his fist from between my legs and started toward my bed. I went with him. My hands trapped in his, the way they were, I couldn't do much else besides go with him. He threw me down upon the bed, releasing my hands, and he put both sets of fingers on the waistband of my jeans. Just as he started to yank them down, I reached up with one foot and kicked him solidly in the nuts.

He straightened up fast! His face went red, then white, then purple and he doubled up in a knot, both hands clutching his offended privates. I heard him shout in a high squeaky voice and it sounded so good I couldn't help laughing out loud. "Get out of here, Goddamn you!" I shouted, tossing toy shoe at him as he staggered toward the door. "And if you ever try it again, you'll get it twice as bad!"

I don't know what excuse he made to Mom when they sacked in for the night, but I know I didn't hear the bedsprings rattling as he plowed her in their room across the hall. Not that night, and not the next, either.

The next night. My heart did a turnover when I thought of it. The last night my mother was alive. God, only twenty-four hours ago she had been alive and laughing, and… and this afternoon, on her way to the regular shift at the plant, she'd gotten plowed off the road by a tractor-trailer. What they'd been able to scrape off the highway was lying in a closed coffin at the mortuary, too messy to be shown to anyone. I had only my memories. I'd never have anything but those memories. Thank God they were good ones! She'd never known what a prick she had married, never known that he considered her nothing more than a cow with a desirable calf – me. I threw myself onto the bed and began to cry. I'd been crying almost all afternoon, ever since they'd called me out of history class to give me the news. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. I don't believe I wanted to stop crying.

There was a pounding at my door. I sat up, startled, and I flipped on the light beside the bed.

"What is it?" I said, sobbing.

"Open up," Tony called, still pounding and rapping.

"Oh, for the love of Christ!" I wept. "Go away and let me alone!"

He'd been drinking, I already knew. I had smelled whiskey on his breath at the funeral home. How much I couldn't tell. He drank a lot, so much that it was a wonder he kept his broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped body. He should have had a three-gallon paunch spilling over his belt, but somehow he didn't.

"Open up!" he said sharply, and this time it sounded as if he were kicking the door as well as pummeling it with his fists. "We have some unfinished business, you little cunt!"

I didn't have time to tell him anything else. He must have leaned his shoulders against the door and leaned them hard, because the door tore loose where I'd locked it and he came staggering into my room. There was a fresh, strong whiskey-reek about him, and I knew without asking that he'd poured himself a fresh jolt or two after parking the car. He stood in the middle of the floor, looking at me, blinking his was trying to adjust them to the dark. Suddenly he found the light switch and the room was flooded with light. I pulled the coven up to my chin and drew back, against the headboard of the bed.

Tony snickered. "What are you hidin' for? I've seen damn near everything you've got. And I'm goin' to see it again. Like, right now!" He grabbed the foot of my coven and yanked viciously, ripping them from my clutching fingers. I screeched and doubled up on the bed, legs pulled all the way up to my chin. All I had on was a short nightie and matching panties. Not until now had I ever realized how thin they were, how they revealed the pink and gold of my body to prying eyes. Prying eyes like my stepfather's.

He made a flying leap, bounded over the foot of the bed, plopped down onto the mattress beside me. One of his arms and one of his legs flopped down across me, pinning me on my back. Tony looked into my face, breathing out enough fumes to get an elephant stoned, and he grabbed my chin, squeezing till my lips puckered out. "Wanna kiss?" he asked. "I need a little kiss. Who's gonna give it to me? You?" And with that he planted his mouth on mine, firmly, savagely, kissing me till I was breathless and aching.

I was pinned like a butterfly onto cardboard, and I struggled the way a butterfly struggles, for all the good it did. Tony's mouth was on mine, and my head was trapped, and his hands roved up and down me, exploring everything I had.

The worst of it was, I couldn't even knee him in the jewels, the way I'd done the other day. No, that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the fact that my mother had been killed by a truck this afternoon and her body was only just starting to cool and the son of a bitch was trying to mount me on my own private bed, as if everything were normal and fine. That was the worst of it.

I heard and felt my nightie being torn, felt my tits popping loose, felt his hands pawing them. I slapped at his fingers and it didn't help. He caught his fingers in the rear he'd already made, ripped it a little harder, and the rest of my nightie was pulled away.

He thrust his hand into the rip and grabbed everything he could grab hold of. My nipples were swollen from terror and his fingers were like steel pliers on them. I squirmed and fought and I tried to slap him and claw him, but I couldn't seem to get hold. Finally he stopped kissing me, lifted his head, and looked down at me. All flushed and excited he was, too, breathing whiskey into my face with every wheezy pant of air that left his mouth. My head began to reel.

"Goddamn you," I said, "don't you have any respect far my mother? She's lying dead right now – you may as well have killed her yourself!"

He cuffed me across the cheeks, a stem, warning cuff. "Shut the fuck up," he said sternly. "Your old lady bought it from a fucking truck, and I didn't have anything to do with it. So what if she's dead? People die every day. What counts, you little pussy is the fact that I've got one of the all time champion hard-ons. It's the first one I've been able to get since you kicked me in the balls the other night. Gimme your hand. Stop fighting, cunt! Feel that? Seven inches of hard meat, and it needs someplace to get its head wet tonight. I don't figure your old lady is gonna be much good from now on, so I guess you're elected. C'mon! Feel it! It's long and it's rock-hard and it needs to be shaved up something tight and wet and sweet. You got anything like that, pussy? Hmmmmm? How about right – here!" He thrust his hand into my crotch.

I screamed and bent almost double, but he kept driving at me with his fingers, driving, pushing, punching – until he'd shoved a finger into me, a finger wrapped in the filmy rayon of sleepwear panties. I guess it was like being fucked with a rubber on. You could feel the hardness but, not the raw flesh itself, stabbing in, stabbing.

He groaned as he jerked his finger out of me. I groaned too, and the only hand I had free shot down to my crotch, covering myself now, when it was too late to do a Goddamned bit of good. It hurt down there, really hurt. He'd been rough and vicious puncturing me, and he hadn't cared, if he were. "Goddamn you," I sobbed, tears flooding from my eyes. I was still weeping for Mom, but I was also weeping for me.

Tony looked down at me, grinning. He had uneven teeth, slightly yellow from cigarettes. "So what's the problem?" he asked. "Your old lady is dead, but you're still around. I need a woman tonight and I don't feel like going out to hunt one up. Anyway, twat – you'd have given it to me sooner or later. When I want something I don't give up till I fucking get it. And I want you. So…"

He knocked my hand away from my cunt and started to grab me there again. I reacted instinctively, the way a cat does when it's attacked. My hand came up, fingers bent into a claw, and I scratched forcefully at his face. I felt the flesh yield and tear under my nails, and I saw four evenly spaced trails of blood appear on his flesh, down one of his stubbly, olive-tinted cheeks.

I intended to scratch him again, but I didn't get the chance. Tony grabbed my wrist and he bent it backward till I thought it was going to break off. "You pussy!" he snapped, making pussy sound like the filthiest word imaginable. Blood oozed from the scratches I'd made. Please, God, I thought, let him wear that scratch mark till the day he fucking dies!

Tony rolled over me, still holding my wrist. His feet landed on the floor beside the bed, and he pulled me over to the edge, my wrist bent back at such an angle I was only waiting to hear the snap of bones. Moaning and protesting I lay there, in terrible pain, and I watched him reach down, pulling the plug of my nightstand lamp from its wail socket. He turned around, holding the lamp, and I was afraid he might hit me with it.

He almost did. When he smashed the lamp it was on the corner of the headboard, only inches from my face. Splinters of broken bulb flew everywhere. I closed my eyes – the only protection I had.

He pulled my wrist again, "If I have to tie you down, cunt," he told me, "I'll fucking tie you down!"

And with that he tore the cord loose from the lamp and began to bind my wrist to the bedpost.

There was no way I could stop him. He made it a tight knot, too, Goddamn him, so tight my hand began to swell and throb with constricted blood. As soon as he'd fastened the knot I started up and began to undo it. Tony whacked me along side the cheek and I fell sprawling back onto the bed. He looked down, saw my stockings on the floor by the bed. I saw him smile as he came up, an nylon stocking in each of his hands.

"Roll back," he said, "and stick up your hand."

"Screw you!"

He clenched his fist and touched it to the point of my chin. He pushed once, and I got the message. If he had to beat me unconscious, the cocksucker was prepared to do exactly that. Slowly I moved back, my free hand lifting even more slowly. Tony crawled across me, grabbed my hand, and, with the stocking, bound it fast to the other post at the head of my bed. A prisoner, I lay panting and shaking, my body lewdly exposed thanks to his ripping, rending hands, and a prisoner I was going to be until someone untied me.

"That's better," he announced, deliberately drawing back and staring at me. If anything, the bulge in his pants had gotten even bigger since the last time I'd seen it. He was still holding one of my stockings. "What shall we do with this one?" he asked.

"Why don't you stick it up your ass?" I suggested with a snarl.

Again he touched my chin with his fist. Just a warning. But, oh, God, what a warning! My whole body chilled at his touch.

He turned around, grabbed one of my legs, wrapped the stocking around the ankle very tight, then proceeded to bind that foot to the post sticking up at the lower end of the bed. He had to stretch me a little to make the connection, and it hurt. More than a little. I growled in complaint. He turned around. "Don't you know when to shut up?" he demanded. I shook my head defiantly. Tony jumped off the bed and he came up holding my blue print patties in his hand. "Chew on these," he said, stuffing them into my protesting mouth.

Gagging, choking, wanting to die but not able to, I lay on the bed, tied hand and foot, watching Tony as he stood beside my bed undressing himself. He stood as tall as Darth Vader, and as big and, oh, God, three or four times as menacing! I hadn't realized how big he really was until he stripped off his shirt and undershirt, dropped his pants, and loomed there above me, all shoulders and chest and hard flat stomach, with his tight jockey shorts swollen all out of proportion by the weight and bulk of the erection inside them.

And when he slid the shorts down his legs and his cock sprang out free and horny as hell, I felt a knot in my belly and a tightening in my throat. He was big, and I mean BIG!

He'd said seven inches, and as I stared at the fat, lengthy extension of his stiff pecker, I wondered if he hadn't been selling himself short. The tip of him was as fat as an apple, blood-red, and his balls swung rhythmically beneath his protruding dick. If he were any harder, he'd be steel instead of flesh. I knew that, just looking at him, and I wished I were somewhere eke.

CHAPTER THREE

He got out of his shorts, leaving his body entirely naked. I guess if the circumstances had been a lot different I might have enjoyed the sight of him, all tare and hard-muscled. But it wasn't that kind of night. I mean, this afternoon my mother had died, and it wasn't quite twelve o'clock midnight and her husband had me tied to my bed, helpless, nothing but a toy to work out his warped passions on. I struggled against the rubber cord binding my wrists, struggled till it hurt, and my tied-up leg moved fitfully, impotently. The panties in my mouth tasted funny – of talcum and sweat and strange girl-like things I could only identify in a very general way. I coughed and tried to spit them out but that was a useless gesture too.

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, one of his hands sliding down over my tits where they thrust out of my torn nightie. And if I was impotent, he damned sure wasn't. His stiff cock thrust up like a dagger, a long thick dagger whose hilt was bidden by a swirl of tight curling black hairs. The knob of his cock looked bigger than before, and the color had deepened to a livid, bruised kind of purple. Moisture was leaking from him, coating his cockhead with a filmy sheen, and I wanted to swallow the huge lump of fear in my throat but I couldn't, for I'd have strangled on the panties Tony had crammed into my mouth. There would be no screams to disturb the night's peace in our quiet neighborhood. I wondered how many other times the bastard had set about raping a woman. He seemed to have the whole routine down pat.

Go limp! I told myself. Lie here like a Goddamned piece of cloth. He can stick that big dick into me, and he can make me cry, but I'm gonna be a dishrag underneath him. If he's looking for a good hot fuck, he'd better look to his own fist, because it's gonna seem mighty attractive after a few minutes on top of me. Clamping my teeth down on the panties in my mouth, I willed my body to relax. Totally. I would not move. I would not whimper. I'd play dead.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Becky," he said, leering, and I knew he wasn't sorry at all. He seemed to get a thrill out of seeing me all tied and gagged and helpless, out of feeling my tits when I couldn't make him stop. His fingers slid again and again over my fear-hardened nipples. He pinched them, pulled them, teased them like a farmer looking for a full milk bucket on a cold frosty morning. I tried not to react, but I couldn't be entirely true to myself. The more he pulled and tweaked, the more my belly jerked, the more my boobs jiggled in his hands. And that only made him squeeze me and pinch me the harder.

Tony had ripped the gown open, ruined it completely, but I still had on the panties. He seemed to take note of that interesting fact, and his hands slid reluctantly downward from my tits, onto the lacy elastic waistband of the pants. He slipped his thumbs inside, fixed his eyes on mine in such a determined stare that I had to lower my eyelids in a puny self-defense. Just as I did, he began to pull on my panties. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his face the first time he got a clear peek at my cunt.

"Goddamn these things," he said, fumbling with the panties. He had big hands and suddenly, he was ripping the pants just as he'd ripped the nightgown, splitting them in half with a long, agonizing rrnnppp sound. I went scarlet. I could feel the tingles of the deep blush that spread across my face, because I knew he was looking at me, down there, at the small dark patch of hair, shaped like a neat little V, flossing my crotch. Only two other males had ever seen that part of me, and I wasn't sure if one of them counted, because the time Bucky and I did it, the lights were all off and neither of us could see much of anything.

Well, right now the overhead light was blazing down on me and I knew Tony was getting an eyeful. A big eyeful. I heard my stepfather make little licking sounds, and then his fingers crept into my bush.

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" I groaned, lifting up from the bed I was tied onto. He had his fingers in my pubic hair, pulling, twisting, as if he meant to rip it off my mons in one big jerk. I couldn't lie still for something like that, could I? No matter how limp I'd resolved to be.

And as suddenly as he had begun to abuse me, his hand grew softer, gentle, almost. He had both hands on me by then, his thumbs resting on the inner curves of my thighs, eight fingers planted amid my curly black hairs. They stroked me caressingly, rubbing till I was warm. I couldn't fight the warm feeling that spread across my groin. It was coming from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I couldn't reach with my mind, somewhere I couldn't control.

His fingers pushed up the rather puffy lips of my slit, squeezed them together. I could feel a moisture building within the tight little cleft, and it was something else I could not stop. Puffing, humming, whistling occasionally, but not saying an audible word, Tony rubbed me till my cunt was squishy-wet, and then he spread me. I remember thinking at the time that it was much gentler, that spreading, than it had been when Bucky's or Norman's cocks went into me those other nights. There was a tightness in my chest, somewhere behind my throbbing tits, and it stuck in place there. I couldn't have swallowed it down or coughed it up, not even if those panties hadn't been gagging my mouth so effectively.

He pulled a little harder, and my pussy winked open. I knew what he was seeing, though my eyes were still shut tight. I'd looked at myself a few times with the aid of a small hand mirror. So I knew how my snatch looked, once the snug fuzz-covered lips were parted. It was a slick-looking deep pink, just inside the gates, and the hole and as much of the tube as I could get a look at were a deeper color, almost blood-red, very moist and slippery to look at, even more slippery to feel. I knew that from having a finger inside me on a great many occasions. And I gasped around the muffler of panties, because a finger was in me now, and it wasn't my finger because one of my hands was tied to the bedpost with an electric cord, the other bound with nylon stocking.

"Mmmmmmmpppppppppphhhhhhhh!" I gurgled and moaned, but Tony's finger pressed into me, thrusting deep, deeper, oh God! He had it all the way inside me, and it was a long enough finger. His knuckles ground against the mouth of my cunt and his fingertip wiggled around and around till my head spun just like his fingertip was spinning and I felt as if I were going to pop out. The juice was running like a river from my twat, sticky and squishy, I could hear it squishing each time his finger squiggled around. My stupid Goddamned pussy didn't have sense enough to know that it wasn't my finger playing the old favorite game inside me. It was an alien, it was somebody who had no business there.

I could sense that his face was very close to mine. I could feel his whiskey-laden breath, for one thins but even without the alcohol fumes I'd have known.

"Sweet little Becky's not a good girl," he announced in a husky whisper, his lips only inches from my nose. "Where did her cherry go? Has somebody been dipping into your well? Some of those boys from school, maybe? Do you let them fuck you and you won't let me? Is that how it is, Becky? Well, Becky, you just don't know what you've been missing. But I'll show you. I don't mind if somebody's already done the dirty work. I hate to get blood all over my cock, even if it is from a pretty little pussy like yours. Bet you haven't found any schoolboys with a prick as big as mine, have you, Becky? Hmmmmm?" He kept calling me "Becky", over and over, Goddamn him! He knew how I hated it.

Tony leaned a little closer and he started to sloppy-kiss me, all over my face. I'd been sloppy-kissed before, a couple of times, but never by anyone who was reeking with booze the way Tony was. The fumes made my head giddy and I thought my brain was growing numb. He kept his hand busy on my cunt, squeezing it, massaging it with his hard fist, making more and more juice leak out of me till I couldn't help wondering where the stuff was coming from. I was wetter than I'd ever been, outside of the bathroom, and each fresh pinch of his fist seemed to make me wetter still.

His lips moved down my face, down my neck, onto my tits. He started to suck. His teeth were sharp and gnawing and it hurt. I opened my eyes and my head started to shake from side to side, but I couldn't move enough to shake him off me. He sucked until my nipples were throbbing and there were red teethmarks in the white caps of my tits, and his hand was still between my legs, listing my pussy actively. And I kept pissing out my juice, till the entire room smelled outrageously like a wet cat. If I could smell it so strongly, so much more vivid and noticeable than Tony's whiskey breath, then he could smell it too, and he must know.

One of my legs was unbound, for all the good that did. I tried to bring it shut, to push him from my cunt. Instead, I wound up clasping him, my leg tight across his hand, increasing? Hundred fold the pressure of his fist on my cunt. I must have squeezed him that way ten or fifteen times before I realized what I was doing and flung my leg free, out of harm's reach. But even as it slinked away, across the bed, I found myself wishing I could bring it back, squeeze him just one more time. My clitoris ached and my cunt was a swamp of passion. I asked myself, What is happening? What is happening to me?

Tony's mouth was on my bellybutton while all this was going on. He got his tongue into my navel and rimmed it round and round, bringing out quivery responses I had never felt before, and I wondered where my self-resolve had gone. My body wasn't limp at all. Each time his tongue licked into me, each time his fist squeezed my pussy, I found myself bucking, lurching upward against the pressure of the bonds that held me to the bed. My ankle mid both wrists hurt like hell but it didn't seem to stop me. I just kept bucking and jolting.

The next part happened pretty fast. One moment he was sucking my bellybutton and listing my snatch, and the next moment, it seemed, he was lying on me. Not heavy, the way Norman had lain on me when we did it on the couch. He was propping himself up with one arm so that his body didn't crush down on mine, and the only place we really touched was at the bellies. I could feel his cock, hard and hot between us, and it felt gigantic. I knew he was going to fuck me with it, and I knew it was going to rip me apart when he stuffed it inside. I was too small, too tight. I started shaking my head frantically, and I made gurgly sounds as drool spilled from my mouth around the gag of stuffed-in panties. My eyeballs were swollen and bulging, ready to pop out of their sockets and I could feel sweat running across my blush-scarlet forehead, out of my hair, stinging its way into my eyes. I blinked hard, and tears welled and bubbled, rolling at last down my cheeks. Some of them got into my mouth, adding saltiness to the strange taste of my panties.

Tony was above me, dominant, powerful, possessive. He leaned to one side throwing all his weight onto one elbow, and with his other hand he reached down into the area where our bo dies touched. His groin lifted from mine and I felt his cock move downward. His hand was guiding it, and the heated knob slid through my pubic hairs.

"Feel it?" he said. "It's a privilege to be fucked by this cock, baby. I have a spare that I use on scaggy twat – like your old lady. She never got what I have ready for you, Becky honey. And she never knew the difference. I tell you, kid, once you've been bitten by this tool, you'll never be satisfied with the average rod again. And the next time I fuck you, Becky, I won't have to tie you down. If I know anything about women – and I Goddamned sure do, bet your sweet lithe ass – you'll be the one tying me down. Let me tickle you with it. Do you like that? I know it's hard for you to talk, but I don't want you screaming your guts out the first time I make you come. You'll want to scream, too, Becky baby. You'll want to howl like a coyote and tell everybody in the world what a stud you've lucked onto. I'm all yours now, little girl. Your mama's gone and you can be my woman now. Feel it? I'm oozing it down your slice. And you've got an oozy gash, too. Just like you've pissed on yourself. You didn't piss on yourself, did you? Of course you didn't, Becky. You're just hot and bothered, itching to have this cock inside you. Bet your belly's on fire, dying to have a taste of my cum, huh? Me you on fire? Does this make you hotter?"

He stoked me again, and I couldn't lie still. My body erupted into a series of twitches and convulsions beneath him and it was almost like coming. Oh, God, I thought, what is he turning me into? I feel like an animal! My mother is dead and my stepfather is raping me, and all I can think of is, God, my pussy aches and aches.

"Don't have to wait any longer, Becky." Why did he keep calling me Becky? Because he knew I couldn't stand it? Because it made me twitch and shake with anger and with something besides, something far beyond anger? I sucked in my belly and at almost the same instant Tony pressed the head of his cock against my tight slit.

I thought my eyes were going to spring out of my head. It was an incredibly big, incredibly hard cock that gouged at my pussy. I'd thought Bucky and Norman were well hung, but I didn't know what hung was. Not till Tony began to work his rod into me. He'd have made two Normans, one and a half Bucky's, for sure, and my pussylips stretched wider and wider, staining, ready to tear, as he screwed the tip of his meat into my too-small hole. I closed my eyes and still I could see only red. My body was one huge pain and, down there, at my cunt, the pain was at its most intense and concentrated.

I wanted to scream but I couldn't. And I knew what he meant. It would have sounded like feeding time at the lion cages and everyone in this end of Reckardsville would have come running to investigate the disturbance.

Tony shoved again, and this time he got somewhere. He got half his cock inside me. It was like losing my cherry, only it hurt a hell of a lot more. I gnawed like a rat at the panties crammed into my mouth and I thought I could feel them starting to slip down my throat. I'm going to strangle, I thought madly. I'm already strangling!

But it was the tightness from my twat, pushed up my body, not a constriction in my throat. It's funny how feelings can get rearranged when your brain is too busy to keep it all straight. But now – now I could tell what was happening, and I almost wished I had been strangling on the panties. It felt as if a fencepost were being fed into my twat and I couldn't tell how much of the wetness in my crotch was pussy juice and how much of it was the blood from my ruined pussy. I tried to scoot up the bed, away from Tony, but he kept pushing and pushing.

He was in me! I felt his groin slam hard against mine and my guts were being pushed out of place, they had nowhere to go but up my windpipe, thanks to the huge mass of cock buried in me, and it was really buried. I could feel his nuts shaking in the crack of my ass, hard nuts, rocking nuts, swishing from side to side, making me itch everytime, everyplace they touched me. I couldn't keep my body still. I began to writhe and twist and shake and tremble and my tits were on fire and my pussy was ablaze. In about thirty seconds my body would be one hell of a warring, raging fire and maybe it would burn Tony to a cinder, which was no less than he deserved, the son of a bitch. If it destroyed me too, well, I couldn't complain, for I was damaged goods in the worst way.

And if I thought the insertion was bad, I didn't know what bad could be until he pulled half his dick out of me and then shoved it home again. It felt as if he were fucking right to the bottom of my throat. I could swear the end of his dick was coming up, tickling the back of my tongue. I went "Gawwwwwwkkkk!" I almost swallowed those Goddamned panties in one gulp.

"Hold still, Becky," I heard Tony say, and I couldn't miss hearing the note of triumph in his voice. All his dirty dreams were coming true. "If you hold still, you can really feel it."

And with that he started to fuck me, in-out, in-out, in-out, like a machine, fucking me so hard, so fast, so masterfully I didn't have time to be anything more than a slave of his passions. My body shook and vibrated each time he plunged home, I sobbed each time he pulled out, and I gasped as best I could with each fresh stab of his fat, hard cock. Oh, God, I had never felt anything like this before hr my life, never dreamed that I could feel anything like this!

I mean, here I was, tied up like a hog for butchering, any my stepfather was fucking the living hell out of me, not half an hour after we'd left the funeral parlor and my mother's closed coffin. I was trembling like a leaf under him, my body twitching, my pussy as wet as if I'd just been for a long, long swim. I couldn't find the brain center which controlled that muscle reaction. I couldn't stop my leg from creeping slowly toward Tony's body, my heel from beginning to slide curiously up and down his straining, hard-muscled cock.

The touch of me seemed to please him. "That's right, Becky," he said. "You know who's boss in this house, don't you, little girl? And you don't even have to call me daddy. Just keep moving, the way you're doing right now. And keep your legs spread wide."

By that time my free leg was slum closely twined around his body and I was stroking the backs of his thighs and calves, bringing my foot up to nudge the cheeks of Tony's ass. It seemed to drive him deeper into me, and it hurt, but my body seemed to crave the pain, the degradation. I strained at my bonds, and I struggled to breathe around the panties he'd gagged me with, but my body was responding magically under Tony and I had no more control over myself. I had been fucked by two different boys and both times and wondered what all the excitement was about. It had been unsatisfying, fairly messy, nowhere as good as I could do myself with a carefully snaked finger.

Well, this time I knew. And as Tony kept on fucking me I found myself recalling the moans and little cries I'd once heard Mom making in the night. Oh, God, if I hadn't been choked off, I'd have been moaning myself. He was a stud, no two ways about it. He fucked me like a man who knew his business and no matter how I fought, no matter how limp I tried to make my body go, I could not keep myself from responding. I think that was the moment when I really became a woman, and not just a girl with a cute face and a nice set of tits. Each stroke of his hammering, driving dick brought my orgasm closer and closer, and I knew I was going to have an orgasm. Every pore of my body sucked in erotic arousal and my belly did convulsions inside me. When I came it was going to be fantastic, no matter what the circumstances. I knew that, knew it to my never-ending shame and self-disgust.

God, I felt so helpless.

There was nothing I could do, so I didn't do anything. Except lie there and shiver and shake every time Tony's driving prick bit into my newly-awakened pussy. I had been fucked before, I told myself. It isn't anything new. But it was. I had never been fucked like this before, and I had never really been screwed at all. Not until Tony tied me to my bed and raped me, the night my mother died.

"I can feel it," he whispered into my face, and he kissed me hard on the mouth, slobbering all over my lips. His drool flowed into my mouth and, added to the panties clogging it already, came close to strangling me. For real, this time I gagged and gasped and tried to fight him but was too busy lurching and bucking toward a come that would blow off the top of my head. "You're gonna come," he said, smacking loose. "You're gonna come like a river, sticky pussy eating my rod. Your mother never came like you're gonna come, Becky. Let it go, baby, let it go! You want to come, so COME!"

His voice rose by degrees as he spoke, beginning as a whisper and hitting a high, almost shrill note when he ordered me to come. Something in his voice seemed to set me off like a blasting cap and I just exploded. One moment I was twitching and tensing, every nerve in my body stretched to the fraying point, and the next moment I was raw and rocking and shivery-fluid beneath Tony. He kept on fucking but I couldn't really feel it. Not now. I was vaguely aware of his dick continuing to punch up my pussy, but most of my attention was concentrated on the mad, blinding release of all my body energy.

Oh, God, how I strained at those nylon and rubber restraints that kept me fastened down! I wanted to shake and roll all over the bed. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, God help me, and hug him like a bear as he screwed in and out of my churning pussy. I'd never known an orgasm like that one. Stars exploded behind my tight-shut eyelids, and when I opened my eyes, the stars kept on exploding all around the room. I couldn't see Tony, couldn't remember that my stepfather was raping me while I was a fettered prisoner. All I knew was that I was coming, and it was the mast shattering come I had ever known in my life. I didn't even have time to think of the degradation that had become total. I orgasmed and orgasmed and orgasmed and if my pussy had been wet before, it was totally liquid now, great pools of hot juice drowning his cock as it continued to fuck in and out of me. My free leg was tight around him, and I held him fast, binding him to me the way I was bound to the bed.

I wasn't even aware of his own climax till it was well underway. It struck me all of a sudden that he wasn't thrusting in and out now, that he was lying hard and heavy upon me, like a lead weight, his cock jammed in me to its fullest. Sometime, between the contractions and shudders of my own come, I grew slowly aware that Tony's dick was jerking and shaking inside me, and I remembered, with effort, that Norman had done much the same thing the time I screwed him on our couch.

But, oh, my God, I hadn't felt this way when Norman fucked me, nor when Bucky did it to me! It hadn't been this intense, this shattering, even when I fingered myself to delicious sweet orgasms in the privacy of bed or bathroom. I groaned deliriously, ecstatically, and, as the convulsions of my body gradually slowed and slackened, Tony pried my lips open and pulled the panties out of my mouth. They were sopping wet now and I missed their tangy flavor as soon as it was gone. "Oh, Jeeeeeeesussssss!" It was all I could say.

Tony humped against me until his cock was empty. My reactions were returning to normalcy, slowly, very slowly, and I found myself looking up into his face as he finished dumping his load. My God, I thought, have I – have I really done this? His face was smug and triumphant and I realized how shameful my own must look – or would, when I had a chance to let the right emotions take over my body once more.

"How was that?" he said, rising up onto his knees. He had to fight my leg loose. I reacted slowly, too slowly, pulling my leg back after he'd already unclamped it from around his body.

His cock dragged out of my slit, and it was red and coated in creamy moisture, some of which spilled onto my belly and into my bush as he towered above me. He stayed there on his knees, panting, and his cock began to go soft as I looked down in horror, seeing the instrument and the juice that had ruined me. I wanted to sink into a bathtub and never come out. I didn't think I could ever cleanse my body of the horrid things he had done to me. But he hadn't done it alone. If I had only obeyed my first instinct, if I'd stayed limp and unresponsive. And I hadn't. I had contributed to my own shame – not freely, but with greedy, cunty enthusiasm. There was probably a circle in hell reserved for people like me, a circle very near the flames.

"Did you like it?" he said with a grin. He reached down, touched my belly where his jism had spilled onto it. "You don't have to answer. Nobody fakes an orgasm with Tony Roland. They don't have to fake it. Not when they're getting the best. And Becky, baby, you have had the best."

"Don't call me Becky," I said, tensely.

He pinched one of my nipples. It hurt like hell. My tits ached after the fuck Tony had dished out and his fingers only accentuated that ache. "Don't be hostile," he said. "This is no time for hostility, Becky. The way I see it, you're the woman of the house now. So you might as well move your things into our bedroom tomorrow sometime. You're not going to school are you? I mean with your mother dead and all? Just throw her things out of the dresser – whatever you don't want to keep. But I don't think any her clothes would took good oh you, baby. She had it all down here." He pinched at my waist, which was trim and tight and narrow, and his fingers slid down onto one hip. "You don't have any problems in that department. You oughta be good for another twenty or thirty years, easy. And after you've had it from me for a while, you could take the championship, easy. You're already pretty good. If Rocky had been as good as you, he'd have whipped the champ's ass, first round. Let me feel those tits again. I'm gonna like having them in bed with me every night. Mmmm, every night, baby."

"You sonofabitch," I growled. "You Goddamned sonofabitch!"

He laughed, and his finger trailed lazily down my chest, down my belly, into my pubic V. For a moment his finger toyed with my slit, and then he plunged it into me. I was sore from the fucking he'd given me and I screamed shrilly. Tony leaned forward fast, clamped his hand over my mouth. "Don't wake up the neighbors, baby. We wouldn't want them to know what a hot stud you've got for a stepdaddy, would we, Becky? Why, if word got out, you'd probably have to stand in line waiting for your turn, all those neighbor women lined up for a shot at old Dick, here." He worked his finger in my pussy with a vicious twist, then pulled it out, brought it up to my face. "Taste," he said. "You're gonna be sucking my dick a hell of a lot and I want you to know what my cum tastes like on your tongue. But just remember – you can't have any mote of it tonight. I have to keep up my strength. Tomorrow, though. Open your mouth, Becky honey. Open your mouth big and wide."

I didn't open my mouth but that seemed not to matter. Tony got his finger pushed between my lips and he worked at my teeth until they parted grudgingly, and his cummy finger stabbed into me.

He pushed my cheeks with the fingers of his other hand and made me suck him. The taste was all right, not as bad is some of the girls' locker room talk at school had led me to believe. Kinda salty, not really sweet but not really bitter, either.

Tony drew his finger out. "That's just a taste," he said. "I want you to diddle yourself tonight thinking about what it's gonna feel like when my dick blasts off down your throat. Your mother could suck a cock pretty good, for an old lady, I mean, but I know in my gut that you're gonna be a lot better. Those sweet little lips of yours – mmmmm!! I can hardly wait to feel 'em wrapped around my prick sucking and sucking till I shoot you full of seed. Are you on the pill? No? And you been fucking around all this time with no protection?"

"I haven't been fucking around," I snarled.

"Your pussy says different, Becky baby. Somebody's been in your little goodie-box. Well, from now on, it's mine, and don't you forget it. Buddy on the shift has a girlfriend who works for a doctor. I'll get you a prescription, because I like your tummy just the way it is. And the world doesn't need another Tony Roland. Christ, there wouldn't be enough women for two of us to fuck!"

"You're a bastard," I said. "A real bastard. Do you know that?"

Tony cupped my chin in his hand and he looked down at me thoughtfully. Then he slapped me very hard, first on the left cheek, then on the right. I knew I'd been hit. My face stung and my eyes were full of tears. I tensed in my bondage.

"One more to grow on," he said, and he hit me again. The tears rolled down my cheeks. "Now, Becky," he went on, "this is a lesson I hope I don't have to repeat. You're a smart girl. You oughta be able to appreciate the situation, now that it's changed the way it has. And as long as you're a good little smart girl and spread your legs the way I tell you, when I tell you, everything's gonna be hunky-dory around the house. Isn't it?" He drew back his hand and I nodded quickly.

"Okay. What would you like to do now? Take a bath? Douche your twat? Let me untie you. Sorry I had to be so rough, but some women take a little convincing. It's gonna be okay from now on, right?" I nodded again, but I don't think he noticed, because he was busy untying me. When I was free, I sat up, rubbing my wrists and the ankle that had been bound, trying to get the circulation flowing freely once more. My body was still aching from the orgasm I had gone through and I felt the most overriding sense of shame imaginable. I wanted to go to the bathroom, find a razor blade, and cut my wrists. But I didn't have the courage.

"If you want a little more," Tony said, "you know where. I sleep. Well, don't bother to knock. Just come on in."

He went out the door, not bothering to pick up his discarded clothes, just walking naked with his limp but still sizable cock swinging from thigh to thigh.

Somehow I dragged myself off the bed, and into the bathroom. I took off the ruined nightie and the ripped matching panties and filled the tub. A shower wouldn't be enough to cleanse me, and even a bath couldn't wash out my mind. I sank into the hot water, full of bubbles that smelled sweet and virginal, like fresh lilacs, and I tried to figure out where that awful person had come from, the one who sprang so suddenly from the corners of my brain when Tony was raping me. The person who had made me come like I came. I hated her, whoever she was, wherever she had come from. I bated her as much as I hated Tony Roland. I tried to think about my mother, but she was already growing fuzzy in my mind. I tried to remember her voice and I couldn't. That made me cry. For her, for myself, too. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying.

But I did, finally, and the water was growing cold, the bubbles all flat, when I stepped out of the tub and dried myself off. I wrapped up in the towel and went down the hall. Tony's door was open and he was lying naked on his bed, asleep. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray on his nightstand. I tried to imagine what it would be like, living with him, going through this same thing every day, every night, until he tired of me. If he tired of me. My legs got weak and I had to brace myself against the wall.

I went into my bedroom. Sleep? I didn't think I could ever sleep, ever again. I wasn't sure I even wanted to. Tony could steal in while I was asleep, rape me again. And maybe this next time he wouldn't have to tie me down first. Maybe I'd remember the fantastic supercharged intensity of that unwanted organ, maybe I'd open my arms and legs and pussy to him freely, willingly.

"Oh. God, not that," I said in a small voice. "Anything but that!"

I went hastily to my dresser, dropping the towel on the way. I had a small canvas bag that used to carry my gym outfits in. It wasn't very big but it would hold a couple changes of underwear, and extra pair of jeans, maybe a shirt or two. I didn't even bother with bra and panties, just slipped my body into a sweatshirt and the first pair of denims I could grab up. Shoes, and my fall coat. How much in my purse? Twenty dollars. Not much, but all I had. I couldn't ask Tony for the money to run away, could I?

I went out the door and again I saw him lying there asleep. Like a baby, probably dreaming of what he'd done to me, of the way he'd degraded me – and my mother. Oh, oh, God, I hated him! I set the bag down and I tiptoed into his room. For a moment I stood beside the bed, looking at him. I looked around the room.

The ashtray. Yet I picked it up, tossing his burnt-down cigarette to the floor. It was an old-fashioned glass ashtray, heavy enough to double as a paperweight. Even if they caught me, I told myself, no jury in the world would ever convict me for this. I lifted the ashtray and brought it down on his forehead. Five, six, seven times. He stiffened on the bed and blood oozed through the wound I had made, and then his breathing went shallow and his head rolled to one side.

I gasped. I'd never killed anyone before. I dropped the ashtray onto the floor and ran out of the room, out of the house. Unless I were dead or a prisoner, I would never come back here again. Never! I hurried down the street, not looking, back, and my heels were on fire. I was running away from Tony, running away from the person I had stirred to life inside me.

CHAPTER FOUR

I'd never seen a real truck stop before and this was a big one. There were tractor-trailers everywhere and the restaurant was full of drivers slopping down coffee and pinching waitresses on the ass. Cabins for the night, too, for people who wanted to get some shut-eye. The smell of diesel fumes.

Traffic moving steadily on the highway three hundred yards off to the left. The sun was coming up. I'd gotten a good six hours sleep on the road. It was time to think about moving on, I had to keep moving. I couldn't be sure if they'd found, the body yet.

"Thanks for everything. I really needed some help."

Rolling Rock put his finger over my lips. "Shush! I'm sorry I can't take you no farther, but I have to unload, then make my turn-around. It was nice havin' you in the cab. Are you sure there ain't nothin' you need? You sure you've got some money? If you ain't got any, you just tell me, and I'll…"

I couldn't take money from him too. He'd already done more than most people would ever think of doing for a stranger, particularly a stranger like yours truly – a frightened girl with wet hair standing by the roadside on a cold fall night, jerking her thumb westward like a mechanical toy gone haywire.

I didn't know his name, but his CB handle was Rolling Rock. Fair enough. He thought my name was Penny Porter and that I was hurrying west to join my daddy, who was very sick in a Denver hospital. Rolling Rock was a nice man, about fifty, with a cute pot belly hanging over his belt and a big shiny bald spot on top of his head. A trucker, steering a big Kenworth with a reefer on behind. I should have been frightened of trucks. After all, it hadn't been quite eighteen hours since my mother had been killed by a truck. But Rolling Rock was too nice to scare anyone, and a dozen cars had sped past me before he pulled off onto the off ramp and waited for me to run up to his rig. And when he opened the door from inside and said, "Hi, little lady. You on your way someplace?" in his broad hillbilly voice, somehow I could sense that I was in safe hands.

We weren't even out of Athens County before my head began to nod. He said, "Why don't you haul into the back and cop a few z's?" I must have given him a look of doubt, because he grinned and added, "Ain't no harm gonna come to you in my rig. I've got a little girl about your size and age, and I'd kill any man who tired to wrong her. I wouldn't want your daddy to come killing-mad after me." I believed him, and I was sorry I had lied to him about myself and my destination. But I couldn't tell him the truth. I was a murderess on the run. Six hours later we were in St. Louis. He touched me then, for the first time, reaching into the sleep compartment to stir me awake.

I jumped, a scream fluttering on my lips. I'd been dreaming about Tony. "Hey, little girl," he said, wrinkles creasing his high forehead. "I didn't mean you no wrong. But this is the end of the line. St. Louie."

And now we stood on the asphalt outside his rig, me shivering in the early morning chill despite the coat buttoned snugly around me. "If you won't take no money, at least let me see about gettin' you a ride. Bound to be somebody on his way to Denver."

I shook my head. I wasn't sure I was heading for Denver. It had been a quick, spur of the moment story, just an excuse for my being on the Interstate hitching a ride at a little after midnight. Right now I had no idea where I was going to go, what I'd do when I got there. A cup of coffee might help me straighten out my head, but I didn't want to get Rolling Rock into any more trouble. If he was seen in the company of a fugitive from justice it might go bad for him. "I'll be okay. Honest to God. And thanks again, Rolling Rock."

"Sure, little lady," and he kissed me on the forehead, the way a father might kiss his almost grown up daughter. It had been so long since I'd had a daddy I wasn't sure how long I could keep from crying. I turned away from him, mumbled a goodbye, and hurried into the restaurant. When I looked over my shoulder from inside the door he was still there by his truck, watching me.

The coffee was almost unbearably strong. I put in so much milk and sugar it could have served for breakfast. I only had twenty dollars and I didn't know how long it would have to last me. St. Louis was still too close to home. I'd have to put a lot more miles between me and Athens County before I took time out to rest up. Maybe I could land a waitressing job in some truck stop like this one – only it would have to be a long way from here. Somewhere on the west coast, maybe and keep on using an alias.

How long before they found Tony's body? What if some neighbor came over this morning with a bit of food for the bereaved, family? Oh, God, I didn't even lock the door behind me when I cleared out! I could see it right now. Mrs. Swanson from next door, maybe. She'd knock a few times. No answer. She'd probably try the door. She'd go inside. And…

"Is this seat taken?"

I turned around. For one incredible moment I thought I was looking up at Jesus Christ.

It was a guy, about six feet tail, rather lean-framed, with long hair parted in the middle just like mine. His hair fell onto his shoulders, framing a long angular face with heavy-browed eyes and a most impressive nose. He was bearded, and the overhead light played up reddish highlights in his brown hair. He looked exactly like the painting of Jesus that hangs in the Reckardsville Baptist Church, except that he wasn't wearing robes of white. And he was pointing at the empty stool beside me at the counter. I shook my head and he sat down, unzipping his blue flight jacket, reaching inside for cigarettes. I breathed a lift le easier. Jesus didn't smoke.

An hour later we were sitting in the cab of his VW van, riding the by-pass around St. Louis. My stomach was warm from coffee and the pancakes he'd insisted on buying me and I lounged happily in my bucket seat. His name was Jerry Cornelius and he was an his way west.

The sun came up behind us, but we were driving into pay cloudy skies. Rain began to spatter down in big cold drops and the further we drove, the wetter it seemed to get. Jerry had his windshield wipers on high speed but they weren't moving fast enough to keep the rain off.

"I don't know," Jerry said in his thin, nasal-toned voice. "I think we'd better pull ant and sit this rain out."

"Good idea," I agreed, because I was a little scared. I couldn't see anything ahead of us and I wondered how he'd managed to cover the last few miles. There was a side road up ahead. Jerry swung hard and we did a little wiggle as we turned onto it. He drove a few hundred yards up the road, pulled off onto the side, and shut down the engine. He turned around in his seat and looked at me.

"We might as well be comfortable," he said. "Let's go in the back."

It wasn't one of your truly great vans. There was a small bed at the very back, and an ice chest, and the floor was covered in a patchwork of unmatching textures and patterns of carpet. Like an old quilt, I thought, and very soft under my feet. I kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes around. The bed was the only place to sit, except for the floor, so I eased my butt onto the edge of the mattress and took a deep breath.

Jerry opened the ice chest and brought forth a dripping cold jug of cheap red wine. We sipped at the paper cups of wine, neither of us saying much.

In the right light, red wine looked a lot like blood and I kept seeing the blood that oozed out of the wound I'd made in Tony's forehead with the heavy glass ashtray. None of that was doing much good for my psyche.

"I think I've had enough," I said, finishing my wine. "Listen. The rain seems to have died down." I couldn't hear it spattering on the top of the van, the way it had when we first crawled back here.

"Fuck the rain," Jerry said. He put down his wine and rose from the floor in a quick fluid motion. His arms went around me and he pushed me back onto the bed. As I went back, he came up, mounting me. "Mmmmmmmm, baby," he said, sliding his hands under the tail of my sweatshirt. They ranged upward and found the undersides of my tits.

"No," I complained, "let go of me!" I fought under him, and, skinny though he looked, his skinniness was nearly all muscle. Wiry and strong and, above all else, determined! His hands moved over the crests of my tits and he was holding me in a tight, fierce grip. It felt as if he were choking me, even though I knew I didn't breathe through my breasts. My head felt cold but my armpits were warm with frightened sweat. Warm and wet.

"Stop it, Goddamn you," I told him. "I didn't get into this van to fuck you."

"Nobody mentioned fuck except you," Jerry said, breathing wine into my face, "but since you've brought up the idea, I think I could dig it. Mmmmmmmmm." He leaned in close, nuzzling my neck and ear with his wine-wet mouth. His tongue played across my skin, into my ear, up and down my neck. His teeth closed on me and he gave me two or three sharp little nips. I squealed and fought but I couldn't seem to throw him off me. It was just like last night, all over again.

His cock began to harden in his pants where he lay on me. I could feel each spurt of blood that tooled into Jerry's prick and made it stiff, stiffer. He rubbed his crotch into my body, made me feel him, and his fingers pinched mercilessly at my breasts. "Come on," he said. "You knew what you were asking for. Girl with tits like these – you know I've been around. You know what it's all used for. You fight, it's only gonna make it harder. For you. And it's plenty hard already. Get a feel."

With his fingers guiding mine, fitting them to the outline of his stiff dick. I felt numb. But my fingers didn't. They felt every single pulsation of his thumping dick, moved up and down its length as he guided them, I had been raped once in the last twenty-four hours, and I should have been a, little more used to the sensation. But I wasn't. I felt sick in the pit of my tummy and my head was swimming in terror.

He got me jammed up against the wall, holding me in place with a knee planted firmly on my thigh. I huffed and puffed, but that was about it. "Look at this, Penny," he said, unzipping his pants. I'd almost forgotten that I was Penny today. I hoped the real Penny Porter, a girl in my class at school, didn't mind that I was using her name. I wished to hell that she were here right now instead of me, about to be assaulted by a guy who looked like Jesus Christ in the back of a VW van on a side road. Off a not-too-busy highway. My sins were catching up with me. Maybe God didn't care for the fact that I had murdered my stepfather. Maybe this was only the beginning of my trials and tribulations and punishments.

Jerry worked his pants down. They were denims, fitting pretty tightly around his ass. He wasn't wearing shorts under them, and his cock jumped out at me as soon as he pulled his pants down far enough. It was a slender cock, not very long, not very thick, I guess, but at that moment it looked like a fencepost. Red, fat-headed, pushing impatiently toward my face. I choked and felt as if all the wine I'd drunk were starting to back up my throat.

Jerry got me around the neck and pulled me over, across him. He lay back on the bed and worked my face into his lap. "Suck on it," he commanded. "I like to be sucked first. Then I'll suck you, if you treat me nice. I do a pretty good lob with a fast tongue and a tight pussy. Well, for shit's sake, Penny, get the fuck with it! Stan sucking!"

He worked my head around, his stiff cock rubbing up and down my cheek. It was hot against my skin and my mouth kept sliding into the tangle of pubic hair at the base of Jerry's tool.

"I don't want to," I said angrily, and the moment I opened my mouth he grabbed me by one fall of dark hair, jerked my head up, and plunged his cock into me. It happened just that fast, just that unexpectedly. One moment I was telling him I would not do it, the next moment I had his cock in my mouth and he was guiding my head up and down on him, his hands just tight enough to make sure I couldn't lift my face off his lick, only rise and fall with it impaling my mouth.

I thought I was going to choke on him. He pushed me down hard, till what seemed and felt like a mile of rod was in my mouth, the head of him lunging almost into my throat. Not until I gagged and coughed did he let up, and then it was only enough to let me rise four or five inches. The end of him was still in my mouth and he made damned sure it didn't slip or slide out.

He was using just the one hand on my head. With his other hand he was pulling up my sweatshirt, pulling it up to free my bare tits. His fingers locked onto my boobs and when they locked, they stayed locked. I didn't know the combination to get them loose. They pinched into my tits, and they really pinched! I could feel the welts springing up on my flesh like beans after the first good summer rain. He kept squeezing and pinching, tweaking my nipples till I gurgled and moaned around the cock in my mouth, and I wished to hell that I were somewhere else.

The only thing I could do was suck Jerry's cock. The alternative was being choked to death on the Goddamned thing.

As I've probably already told you, I wasn't too keen about eating cock, and I didn't really know too much about it. Jerry moaned and pulled my hair viciously when I failed to keep my teeth under control, and I learned pretty quickly that teeth didn't have too much role in a blowjob. I tried to keep them covered with my drawn-back lips. What to do with my tongue? I wasn't really sure. At first I kept it very quiet and idle, but it gradually began to move of its own will, and that astonished me. Jerry's hand slid down from my tits, down across my belly, into the waistband of my jeans. The button popped open and his fingers wiggled into my pubic hair. I hadn't bothered with underwear when I left home just after midnight. There was nothing under my clothes except Rebecca Lee Butler. Only right now, she was being raped.

I realized that Jerry wasn't holding my head any more; that I was rising and failing on his cock in rhythmic passage, without any guidance at all. It scared me. I lurched up, almost losing his cock. His hand touched my head and I shot down again, swallowing him quickly, greedily.

His hand was in my pants, tight on my pussy, and my thighs were clamped together on him, gripping him possessively.

My nipples were stiff, rubbing the denim of his bunched-up pants halfway down his legs. I hadn't noticed that reaction either. Good God, what was happening to me? Yesterday I was a good girl. And today, for the second time, I was – oh, God, I was! I could feel it clotting on the lips of my twat – I was starting to turn on furiously while being raped and abused by a sex-obsessed male!

His finger slipped into my hole and I was ashamed to feel my pussy start contracting rapidly around the foreign object. Wetness oozed from me, more with each little penetration of his finger, and at the same time his other fingers were busy massaging the puffy mound of my cunt. His thumb went a lot of time near my clit, not touching it directly but rubbing around the base of my little button, sending shivers and tingles throughout my entire body. The wetness flowed, and he wasn't holding my head but still I was moving up and down, eating his cock as if I enjoyed it.

"Enough, Penny-girl," I heard him say, and he took me by the ears, lifting me from his stiff prick. Drool flowed from the corners of my mouth as my head came up. His face was bright and smug. He knew that I was starting to turn on. He knew it, and he reveled in it. "Now it's your turn."

He pushed me back, over onto my ass, and he slid my pants down. One hand on my tits, he thrust his face into my crotch and burrowed through the little V of hair. His tongue touched my silt and I moaned, but somehow the magic spell was beginning to fade. I couldn't tell why, couldn't tell how, but I could feel my arousal going flat, like a bottle of pop that's been left too long without a cap.

He worked his tongue into me, but he might as well have been doing it to the real Penny Porter, for all the good it did me. My cunt felt as if it were drying up, in spite of the spittle and drool he bathed my pussy with, and I began to squirm restlessly. "Stop it," I said. "Stop it right now, damn you! Stop!"

As I spoke, I humped up, knocking him aside. He fell onto his shoulder and I started to jump off the little bed. His stiff cock brushed my thigh and I felt an electric tingle in me, very similar to the ones I had felt when he was forcibly fucking my mouth and tickling my twat with his strong, irresistible fingers. There were butterflies in my tummy as I started to stand up, but I didn't make it all the way. Jerry grabbed me by the wrist and jerked, and I fell sprawling onto the bed. I couldn't have walked far anyway. My pants had slipped almost to my knees. They fell a little farther when I slumped onto the bed and they tangled at my ankles. I had one quick feel of fuzzy carpeting under my toe and then my feet were up in the air and Jerry was dragging me across the narrow bed. My head bumped the wall and it hurt, but only for moment.

"Listen, bitch," he said, "you're sucked me till I'm hard enough to cut diamonds, and you're no getting off this bed till I say so. You got that?" And to emphasize the words, he braced his am against my throat, pushing down. Air collected it my lungs but seemed unable to rise up, into my mouth, with his arm blocking the way. He pushed a little harder, and as he did, he worked one of his legs in between mine. I grunted, and he was on me, jabbing with his cock at my pussy. As he sank into me, he lifted up the pressure of his arm on my throat, and it didn't feel anywhere near so bad as I thought it might.

You're just grateful because you can breathe again, I told myself. You're not enjoying the rest of this one bit. Not one – Goddamn – bit! His cock plunged home, lifted, plummeted again.

CHAPTER FIVE

He fucked hard, fucked savagely, fucked until I couldn't hold back the moans and groans that were welling up inside my body. I twisted and writhed under him, and my hands pushed at him. At least my hands still had a trace of moral sense left. God knew the rest of me didn't seem to have any!

"Knock it off," he grunted between strokes, pushing my hands away. His elbow pressed down onto my breastbone, right between my jiggling titties, and he pressed sharply till I went "Ggggkkkkkk…" And all the time he didn't let up once on the relentless in-out stabs of his dick, working himself against me when he was inside me all the way. He wasn't as thick or as long as the late Tony Roland, but he was a man and he had a hard solid prick, and my pussy was close enough to innocence to be fully aware I was being fucked. Again and he plunged into my simmering tightness, and simmering it was after a few more of his strokes.

I couldn't understand what was happening to me. I was juicy wet inside. Each stroke of Jerry's prick reminded me how wet and juicy. It had been the same way last night, when Tony raped me. I had been frightened, but once it was happening I couldn't keep my body from turning on to it. That sick, horrendous knowledge of the beast lurking inside me – it scared me. I didn't know who I was any more. At least, not when I was with a man. Strange things were happening inside me, things I couldn't control, couldn't grasp.

His loins worked against mine furiously and I spread my legs a little wider. I couldn't go much more, thanks to the jeans bunched at my ankles, but the angle of spread I could get made his cock seem enormous in my pussy, made my lips and tube contract on him with a vengeance, and the excruciating tight fit sent chills up my spine and hot flashes through my brain. I put my hands on his chest and I pushed again, but my heart wasn't in it.

He worked faster and faster, really screwing himself in and out. I bucked and jerked with each stroke. He was fucking hard and swift, hurting me, but it was a kind of hurting that rang resonant chords inside my body. My nerves sang with excitement and my tingly twat kept juicing and overflowing, full of cock, full of its own private-stock Rebecca-cum. My knees clutched at his flanks even at my hands struggled fitfully to push him off. I couldn't control any part of my body now. Something very sick was going on inside me and I was terrified. Not of Jerry. Of myself.

"Oh, God," I moaned in despair, twitching and shaking under him. I was a bat's breath away from coming. I knew that feeling too well, the tension in my guts, the itching at my pussy mouth, the jerk of muscles in my thighs. My clit was swollen as big as a watermelon and every time he pushed in deep and wiggled his belly against mine, my chest gave one more death-rattle.

"I can tell," he whispered into my face, his breath wine-sweet. He fucked in and out, fast, just like that, whap-whap-whap, and then he jerked his dick out of me. I groaned and moved toward him, but he avoided the hungry lunge of my body. "Over," he ordered, and I didn't have time to react. He was already flipping me over, so that my tits were squashed against the lumpy mattress on which I lay.

He put his elbow on the small of my back while he stroked up and down the cheeks and curves of my bare ass. His hand went down to my thigh and I humped my ass upward, not sure why I was doing it. His fingers tickled me, flanks first, then inward, moving up and down the insides of my thighs before pushing up into my crack. I was sweaty-moist in there too, hot and damp, and his fingers puddled in that dampness. I felt him touch moved around behind me. "Try this, for round one," he said, as he let go my head. At the same instant his cock slipped into the crack of my ass and started to push at the same hole he'd already fucked with his finger.

At that time I was vaguely aware that sometimes people fucked other people in the asshole. It was certainly something I'd never been too interested in trying, and as I told you, his finger was the first alien object that had ever been up my rectum. Well, I guess he had loosened me sufficiently that way, because when his cock moved against me, my anus seemed to dilate automatically and welcome him inside.

Jesus, God, I thought it was going to kill me! The pain was unbelievable. Getting my cherry busted by Bucky Rothman was nothing next to this! His finger had loosened me, but it had not prepared me at all for his landing cock. I screamed like a banshee and I couldn't muffle it with the bedsheets. My head jerked up and my scream echoed and re-echoed off the inside walls of the van, but he must have been wearing his ear-plugs because he just kept feeding that tool up my asshole, his hands tight on my buttocks while he stabbed me from behind.

I went up. I was on my hands and knees now, anything to crawl away from that big stabbing cock in my ass. I couldn't crawl nearly far enough. My head bumped into the wall and my face dropped back onto the bed. Jerry gave another jerk and he must have had four or five inches of cock inside my rectum. The pain was a burning, ripping thing, a live creature clawing at my body from the inside out. His hands slipped and slid on the sweat-moistened curves of my ass. One of them eased around me, fingers creeping into the patch of hair covering my pussy. I quivered at his first touch there, and a second later he located my clit. He found it with thumb and finger, and where he'd been content earlier to nuzzle it from afar, this time he pinched it off squarely between his thumb and finger and he squeezed, and I saw stars!

Three stout plunges into my ass and it didn't hurt quite so much as before. I could feel liquid moving in my anal tube, I didn't know what it was, but I hoped my body could sweat inside as well as out. I closed my eyes and I was ten years old again, trembling in the bathroom while my mother administered an enema. I felt the tube slipping into my asshole, felt the rush of water up my anus, and my belly heaved inside me.

But it wasn't an enema tube, and I wasn't ten years old, and my mother wasn't giving it to me. Jerry pinched my clitoris again and I screamed loud but he didn't seem to mind screams. When his cock moved in me the tight, excruciating pain of its first intrusion seemed to have dissipated a hell of a lot. He moved a lot easier, though he kept on stroking carefully and slowly, pushing in till almost all his dick was up me, withdrawing about half of it. He'd fucked me hard, in the pussy, but he was fucking me almost tenderly in the asshole. I didn't understand it, but I really hadn't been around much. Hell, I couldn't understand myself, let alone other people!

For example, why was I panting so hard right now? Why had I stopped yelling and crying and screaming? Why were my hips beginning to swivel daintily from side to side as Jerry worked in and out? Why was juice flowing in renewed trickles from my pussy every time his fingers closed tight on my clitoris?

"Oh, God, Jesus," I said with a gasp. "Oh, ohhhhhhhh!"

That's when he started fucking harder and faster. He must have sensed the acceptance in my cry and gasp, and I suppose that it really was a mark of acceptance. I arched up again, my back bent like a bow while his cock rammed in and out of me, and I reached into my crotch, stroking his hand while he played with my clitty. My finger slid past his, though the hairs, and I felt the hot sticky juice that was oozing in a slow but a steady stream from the raw, fiery lips of my cunt.

Jerry tickled my button again and I moaned and two of my fingers started to work their was into my cunny. They plunged into a swamp, and I was an incredible sensation to have him hump over my back, fucking my ass and squeezing my clit. At the same time I kept working those hot eager fingers in and out of my snatch, screwing myself digitally till the smell of wet hot pussy was everywhere, floating round us like a cloud of mist after a summer rainstorm.

"My God," I whispered, "what are you doing to me?"

"Nothing you didn't ask for when you got me the van," Jerry replied smugly. He did double-time fuck up my asshole, and I was really wet in there now, and my tube was adjusted to the shape and the presence of him. I couldn't get over that. I'd touched my asshole once or twist wondering how anybody could ever be so sick as to want to stick a cock there, wondering how anybody else could ever be so sick or perverted a to let them. And here I was, taking it and – could doubt the sensation? – starting to groove.

Rain pattered on the roof of the van, steady, hard rain, as steady, as hard as the fucking Jerry poured up my asshole. Every time he pinched my clit I felt as if I were going to swoon, and every time he stabbed his meat up my anus it seemed that I did swoon, just a little, maybe. I don't know. I wasn't me this was happening to. It was that other Rebecca Lee Butler, the strange, perverted creature who lived inside me and had just broken free for the first time last night. I hated her but I feared her, too.

Well, if it wasn't me, then who was it happening to, for God's sake? I mean, there I was, on my elbow and knees, any tits pressed onto the bed. I had one hand busy on my cunt and the burning pain of my first asshole fuck was slowly turning into something else altogether.

The van rocked as we made it there on the bunk, and the rain kept battering onto the top. I felt the swaying of the vehicle but hardly noticed the drumlike tattoo of raindrops hitting above us. My asshole kept getting greasier and greasier and it wasn't two minutes before lorry a cock moved in and out of me with no difficulty at all. So why was I still moaning and groaning, "Oh, no, stop, please, for Christ's sake stop, you're killing me, kiillllliiiinnnggg meeee!" Why? I didn't know. But his fingers were busy on my clit, and my fingers were screwing in and out of my cunt mouth, and somehow the idea that I was being led forcibly to this, that I was being raped and taken kinky advantage of was such a comforting thought.

There was a sudden, unexpected popping noise and it was like I had just taken a good shit after two or three days of stopped-up bowels. A lot of people find shit a disgusting subject, and I guess it is, in a way. But tell me – doesn't it feel great when you let go? Like a burden being lifted from your soul or something? Makes you want to sigh. It felt just like that when Jerry's dick whanged out of my rectum.

I sighed and I almost collapsed in a pile of relieved flesh. The sensation when his cock pulled out and my sphincter snapped back to its normal tightness was delightful and my head swam giddily.

Not for long. A split second later Jerry was pushing his cock at my snatch and I just had time to get my fingers out of the way before his rod slammed in to replace them. My eyes bugged out and there was a rasping tautness in my throat. I lifted my head and tried to crawl forward, but as always, my head bumped the wall of the van and I wound up thrusting my ass backward, pussy eating up that dick of his in greedy gulping swallows. The muscles in me were rippling and contacting by now. I'd started to come at almost the same instant his cock went into my pussy, and I didn't stop. How could I, with that thing of his reaming in and out of me, already lubed up in my asshole, getting ever greasier now tram the musky flowing secretions of my cunt. His rod was getting a bath, plain and simple, and my cunt was the tub.

He still humped over me from the rear, fucking a little more to the front now. His fingers were on my clit, and his other hand went up to grab my tits. He didn't seem to care which one he got hold of. He'd squeeze and pinch a while, then flip over to the other boot and give it the same treatment. And all the while, his prick kept banging into my box, thrusting hard, fucking with a passion, while I juiced and creamed around him and sobbed and throbbed my guts out.

It had happened almost the same way with Tony last night, and it was happening to me again now. How many more times? I wondered, sick with self-disgust but not so sick I couldn't keep balling away to meet the ramming of Jerry's tool. Last night I'd killed a man because of something exactly like this. Would I have to keep on responding this way, then killing the men who, made me respond so enthusiastically? I didn't know, and I was too busy coming to really think about it with the necessary concentration. It's hard to be philosophical while you're coming.

And speaking of hard – I had about six inches of hard in me. It felt like a good thirteen inches of hammering tool, and I swear I could pick out the presence of his cockhead at the mouth of my uterus. It felt like a frozen snake, poking, punching, trying to fuck its way into my guts, and I screamed every time he did it to me. Screamed and shivered and released another river of sweat from my pores, another river of cum from my pussywalls.

His fingers tightened on my left nipple and they were like steel needles pinching into my flesh. I screamed loud that time, and it was much, much more pain than pleasure. My orgasm was dying down and I didn't think it could last more than a few more heartbeats.

Jerry must have sensed that, because he plunged deep and started to unload. His snaky dick thrashed in me like a live, sparking wire, spraying cum into my belly, and his balls jiggled against my ass with the convulsions of letting loose their gallon of sperm. It ran out of me while he was still pouring the juice in, and my head was starting to return to normal again.

Jerry's cock went soft in my pussy and wiggled out. His hands relaxed on my body and I slumped onto the bed, cum oozing from my slit like blood from a slashed jugular. I reached under myself touched my ravished hole, felt the sticky man-juice leaking out. So much sperm he'd shot into me. How much of it had stuck? My tears had seemed dry and spent a little while ago, but they started flowing again, nearly as abundantly as the cum dribbling out of my cunt.

Jerry lay down beside me, and he whistled. "Hot damn," he said, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. "That was okay. I see you like it rough. Fine with me. I can give it to you as rough as you can take it, Penny baby." He leaned closer, licked my ear, and whispered lewdly, "Maybe next time I'll piss in your mouth. Is that rough enough to get you off?"

I sat up, blazing. "Goddamn you," I said, "What do you think I am? You threw me onto this bed and you raped me, and all I wanted was a ride." I was breathing hard, and my head felt super cold, the way it had the time I sneaked one of Mom's menthol cigarettes.

Jerry stretched like a cat and offered me his hand. I slapped it away. He sat up, frowning.

"Look," he said, "I don't know what your particular trip is, bitch, but as long as you to in my van, you're…"

I wasn't listening. I leaned forward, and the first thing my eyes lit on was the jug of wine we'd been sipping from. I grabbed it in one quick fluid motion and drew it back over my shoulder, ready to smash it on his forehead. Nov matter if he did look a lot like Jesus Christ, I was going to smash him, the way I'd smashed Tony.

He obviously had a quicker wit than I did, because his fist locked around my wrist just as I was starting to swing. I moaned at the sharpness of his hold, the pain that shot through my hand, and the jug fell from my fingers. The floor wasn't soft enough to keep it from breaking, and a stain as red as blood spread across the carpeting. I looked down at it, sick, remembering, and then I looked at Jerry. His face was dead-white and he was very angry. He stood up, pulling me with him.

"Okay, bitch, I've had enough. You've paid for your transportation this far, and I don't think I want to sell you a ticket for the rest of the way."

He grabbed my shoes off the floor, thrust them into one of my hands, and he pulled me, kicking, fighting, moaning, across the floor of the van. My toes dragged through the spill of red wine. It was cool and wet and sticky.

Jerry opened the side loading door. It was raining very hard, and there was a huge puddle of muddy water beside the van. He let go of my hand and, while I was trying to rub away the hurt, he gave me a shove from behind. Half naked, my shirt pulled up to my tits, my pants hanging below my hips, I fell from the van, right into that puddle of water. I hit with a splash, too, a splash that managed to soak whatever of me hadn't gotten soaked on my initial landing.

I looked up, half blinded by the rain, holding my shoes in one hand. "Wait a minute."

The side door slammed shut. The van rocked and not two heartbeats later, I was sure, the engine roared into life. The van took off, spraying me with more mud as its tires dug into the solid ground underneath the rain-softened surface. I watched, not quite believing, as it sped back toward the highway, turned right, and vanished.

CHAPTER SIX

Once I'd dragged myself out of the mud and put my clothes into a semblance of decency, the full horror of my situation hit me like a brick. The departed van contained, besides the man who raped me, everything I'd carried out of Athens County last night, when I fled like the criminal an fugitive I was. My gym bag with clean clothes which I really needed right now, and, my purse with all my money! It was only twenty dollars, but Nelson Rockefeller wouldn't have felt a bit worse being reduced to total poverty than I felt at that moment. I started to cry, and my face was already wet from the falling rain. My hair began to string around my face and I couldn't have looked any more miserable than I felt. What was I gonna do now?

Sadly I trudged down the road, back to the main highway. It seemed to take forever to walk it, though the distance was no more than a hundred yards or so. And I took stock of myself as I walked. Who, I asked myself, would stop and offer a ride to a girl who looked as if she'd been dragged through forty miles of bad road? I was mud from tits to knees. My hair and face were a total mess. I could stand here for the next week thumbing and all it would get me would be a case of pneumonia. Still, it was the only thing I could do.

After watching fifteen cars go by, I was ready to lie down in the weeds beside the road and wait for sickness and death to overtake me. Maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe the next car down the highway would be a police cruiser. I could flag them down, confess that I was a fugitive murderer from Ohio. At least they'd put me in a nice warm cell, and they'd feed me, and maybe they'd let me take a shower and wash off some of the mud. My body was freezing from the chilly rain – oven my coat was in Jerry's van, a million miles away by now, and the sweatshirt didn't take long to soak all the way through. But every time a car appeared in the distance, I held out my thumb and tried to smile.

It wasn't working. It wouldn't work. Sighing, I started to walk down the highway, the direction Jerry and I had been traveling. I didn't know where the road led, but at least I was moving.

Maybe a quarter of a mile from where I'd started, just when I was looking at the nearby river and wondering how it would feel to drown myself, I heard the beeping of a horn. I turned, figuring for sure someone was about to run me over. But it was a car, and it was braking to a gentle stop on the wet pavement. The rain was thinning down by this time and I could see that a woman was behind the wheel. She motioned to me, fifteen or twenty feet back, and I broke into a run. With my luck, she'd be seeking directions to Hick's Corners or some-such place. As I came alongside she reached across and opened the side door. "You'd better get in," she said with a lilt in her voice. "The rain gets worse the further down the road you go, if the radio weatherman is to be trusted."

Lara. That was her name, Lara McMinn. She wore an expensive-looking coat and she drove an expensive-looking little foreign tar, and she lived in an expensive-looking house about twenty miles west of where she'd stopped to give me a ride. We talked in the car, and she was very friendly, not to mention very pretty. About thirty or thirty-five, I guess, and she wore a large gold ring an her left hand, so I supposed there was a Mr. McMinn someplace. I hoped he didn't find out that his wife had been giving rides to fugitive murderesses. When she asked me my name I told her Rebecca; I didn't feel like lying any more.

When we got to her house, I started to get out of the car but she put her hand on mine and shook her head. "Absolutely not," she said authoritatively. Her voice was soft and rich, an alto. "You'll catch your death in those wet clothes. Come into the house with me. I'll draw a bath for you and find you something dry to put on."

I couldn't very well say no. The thought of a bath sent tingles up and down my spine, and my thighs twitched when I reflected on the possibility of putting on dry clothes. She pulled the car into the garage and shut off the engine. "Look," I said, "You don't know anything about me. What if you invite me into your house and I repay your hospitality by robbing you, or murdering you, or something?"

She laughed, a very pretty laugh, I thought. "If you were going to do it," she told me, "you certainly wouldn't advertise it ahead of time the way you just did. I'm a very good judge of character, Rebecca."

Her hand slipped down from my hand, rested on my thigh just above the knee. The presence was light but unmistakable and I felt kinda funny in my stomach. Why, I couldn't say. There was just something…

"Now you come along," she said, "and we'll see about cleaning you up. You really look as if you'd taken a mud bath or something."

I followed her through the side door, into the kitchen. It was a kitchen right out of a TV commercial, all the latest appliances, including a microwave oven, and it was spotless clean. I looked down, saw my muddy footprints on the floor. Oh, God, how disgusting! I didn't seem to notice.

"Come this way," she was saying. "Up the stairs. Bathroom is at the head of the steps. Why don't you go on in and start the water running? I'll see what I can find that might fit you."

She was taking off her coat as she spoke and for the first time I had a look at her figure. It was lovely! She was wearing a sweater and slacks combination that hugged and accentuated the lines of her slender, lissome body. Small breasts, set high on her chest, a slim waist, a high behind, and long legs. She looked very tall, but she couldn't have been more than a few inches taller than me. It was all in her carriage. Lara McMinn knew how to make the most of herself. God, I thought, if I don't get sent to the electric chair, I'd like to grow up and be her!

All except the hair. She wore her hair rather short, and it was curled and frizzed around her face, a nice shade of auburn-red but I didn't like the style. I preferred my own long, straight tresses.

I peeled out of my wet clothes and adjusted the water in the bathtub. I brewed it a little hotter than I usually do, because I had some hellish cleaning up to get done. When the tub was three-quarters full, I poured in some bubble powder, hoping Lara wouldn't mind, and I crawled into the water, sinking down with a sigh. For the first time in a couple of days, I felt good. Really, really good!

I was still just soaking, letting the hot water seep into my skin. I could feel it moving slowly and surely into the marrow of my bones, warming me all over. Taking a deep breath, I submerged my head and came up feeling cleaner still, water and suds running across my face. I blew bubbles and I splashed in the tub like a child. For now, at least, I wasn't a fugitive and a rape victim. I was just Rebecca Lee Butler again, taking simple pleasure in a sweet bath.

The door opened. I wasn't used to baying someone else in the bathroom with me. I sat up, starting, and I threw my hands up in front of my tits, though they were almost completely covered in foam anyway. Lara smiled, winningly, and I flushed a little as I put my hands down. She came over to the tub and knelt beside it. "Mmmm," she said, sniffing. "Lilac. My favorite too." Her hand poised above the soap suds, then dipped in. She brought out a palmful of soap and she blew little bubbles into my face. I giggled, and it felt nice to be giggling. I was safe. And warm. And clean, too. Soon I'd have to get back on the road and keep thumbing till I reached someplace the law couldn't find me, but right now it felt very soothing to soakin Lara McMinn's tub and bubble bath.

"Wait a sec." Lara got up, went to the cabinet beside the tub. She opened the door, reached inside. I heard a little clatter and something fell out. A tube of K-Y Jelly. What was that? Something like Vaseline? She reached for it, scooped it up quickly, put it back into the cabinet. "This is what I was looking for," she said, holding another tube. She uncapped it and I could smell flowers and herbs. "Shampoo," she explained, squeezing a little into her palm. "Make your hair smell like a garden."

Lara knelt by the tub again. "Lean over," she commanded, and I leaned. She put her hands on my wet hair, began to massage the shampoo into my scalp. Mom used to wash my hair for me when I was little, but no one had done it in eight or nine years, anyway. Her fingers felt different from the ones I was used to, and as she kept on rubbing and stroking, I found myself wishing she'd never ever stop! I purred and blew a path through the soapy foam. Lara's hands worked down my neck, following the trail of my long hair.

It was tangled and kinked, from being wet and muddied, and she undid the snarls with the gentlest touch imaginable. I wouldn't have been so delicate. It felt so good!

She rinsed out the soap with a little nozzle attached to the tap, and then she treated me to a cream rinse which accentuated the herbal aroma of the shampoo. I really did smell like a garden. And I could imagine myself sinking into a leafy bed of flowers on a sweet, warm spring day, looking up at the trees as they turned summertime green under the blue blue sky.

"Let's get you dried, now," Lara was saying, and I didn't feel funny at all when I stood up and stepped out of the tub, onto the mat beside her. She was there waiting, with a fat terrycloth towel in her hands, and she started to move it up and down my bare body, wiping away the clingy soapsuds and the wetness.

First she did my back, while I held my hair out of the way. Her hands slid law, lingering a moment on the curve of my ass. She patted my buttocks through the towel and her fingers made a delicate rhythm on my skin. It felt good. Dropping to her knees, she wiped the backs of my legs, then started up my front. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I could do the front myself, but it felt so good being dried off after my bath and not having to move a finger in my own behalf. I sighed and closed my eyes, fingers toying through my wet, sweet-smelling hair.

Lara's hands moved upward, to my kneecaps, up the moist smooth columns of my thighs. The edge of the towel brushed my wet pussy and I opened my eyes in surprise. I looked down and she was patting me there, too, the way she'd patted my ass. Smiling, humming softly while she dried me and massaged me, and something told me it wasn't right, you know? I mean, she was a woman and I was a girl, and there was a certain something in it all, something that should have been easier for me to understand. Her hands slid upward and the towel moved across my tits. Lara's hands were guiding the towel and she smoothed it over my boobs, hands lingering on the protrusions, and this time I damn sure knew that things weren't entirely what they seemed.

"Uh," I started to say, the only sound I could make. She stood up quickly, still pressing the towel down over my tits, holding them in firm, solid grip with her small hands, and all of a sudden her face was in front of mine. Its a wonder our eyelashes didn't twine together. And then her face was even closer and her mouth was on mine, sweet breath flowing into me, her body tight and lithe and taut against my body. She was still holding the towel down over one tit, but the other one had gone around me, locked at the small of my back and she was pulling me even tighter, harder, against her. She was kissing me too, and her tits touched me – I could feel them hard and high-set under her sweater, nipples standing up prominently, seeming to burn me where they brushed against my skin. Her hand slid lower down, cupped one cheek of my ass, and it was a very small but a very strong hand, squeezing me with just enough power to make the breath clog up in my throat. My legs turned to mush, my head went swimming round and round and I'd have fallen for sure if I hadn't been leaning against Lara, all my weight thrown onto her willow-slim frame.

"Noooooooo…" I hummed against her mouth, but her tongue slipped into me while I was protesting and her hand was still busy down there on my ass, one little finger riding in my crack. I closed my eyes and made to push her away. But somehow, instead of pushing, my arms went around Lara and I was hugging her savagely, thrusting my body at hers, trying to swallow her lissome tongue.

In the end, I had to come up for air. I slid my head back, but my head was all that moved, and I stared at her, still hugging her body while she fondled and embraced mine. "What are you doing?" I said aghast.

Her answer was a little kiss on the angle of my shoulder. Her lips clung to my skin and didn't want to let go. As she kissed me, I put one hand on her curly hair and stoked her head. Without knowing it, I was dragging her face down my chest, toward the stiff waiting beacon of my right nipple. Her lips touched it, and my eyes got big, but I didn't let go of her, not even when she opened her mouth and the point of her tongue touched my nipple. White-hot jolts of surprise and excitement shot through me, but I couldn't let go. I put my fingers on the back of her head and drew her to my breasts and she began to suckle me, in a way I'd never been sucked before.

It was gentle yet fierce at the same time. Her lips pulled at me, pulled, hard and determinedly, and it was as if she were trying to jerk the nipple right off my titty. But her tongue was busy, licking, loving, spilling drool across my pap, and I just wrapped both hands around her head. I didn't want her ever to stop!

But she did, and she straightened up. My hands were still on her head, touching her cute curly hair, finding her earlobes and exploring them too. She smiled and let go of my left breast, bringing both hands round me, one palm resting on each cheek of my ass. We rocked back and forth, our crotches pressed together, and I looked at her face, not knowing how I'd gotten into this, only knowing that I was deep in it and not sure if I wanted to get out.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked in her soft alto, and as she spoke she let her hands glide up and down my buttocks. I shivered and the motion made my crotch rub hers again. Yes, I thought, I do feel better. I don't know why I do, but…

She dropped the towel. "What happened?" she said, pointing to my left breast. I looked down. There was a large bruise on the underside of my tit just below the nipple. Jerry, I thought. Jerry and his pinching fingers. Lara touched it with the tip of one finger.

"Oooohh," I said, "it hurts a little."

"Let me," she invited, and she bent her head. She kissed the sore spot and when her lips were gone it still looked raw and purple, but it didn't hurt at all. "Does that have something to do with why you were on the road in the middle of that rainstorm?"

I nodded, uncertain how much I dared tell her. She had created strange hungers in me, feelings ant passions that were boiling and simmering away inside my body though I couldn't understand the why or the how. But could I strip my soul naked too? "I was with a boy," I said, "and we had disagreement. He threw me out of his van. An left, with my coat and my money and my extra clothes."

"Are you running from something, Rebecca? Don't lie to me. You can trust me. Just tell me the truth. You're too young to be hitchhiking by yourself, and you certainly don't talk like a Missourian. From a bit further east. Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania. Ohio, I think. Right?" I nodded. "But you don't want to tell me? You're afraid?" I nodded again. Lara pursed her lips. It was a pretty expression.

Her fingers moved through my crack. My asshole was still a little tender from the fucking it had gotten a couple of hours ago, but there was a healing quality in the touch of her fingers. I forgot all about hurt as her hand slid over the red little hole, as her fingers skated on, made contact from behind with the wet muff of my pubic hair and the tingly lips of my snatch.

I jumped onto tiptoes when she touched my pussy. "Ohmygod," I said in a rush of words, "what are you doing?"

Her finger toyed with the hole, then slipped inside, just enough to let me know she was there. Her mouth curled into a sweet smile, the sweetest smile imaginable. It made Mona Lisa look like a two-dollar whore giving the come on to a horny sailor. The tip of her finger rested inside my crack, not moving, simply letting me know it enjoyed being in my warm wetness, Lara tilted her head and kissed me on the mouth again, pressing her lips against mine, and I don't think I really needed to ask what she was doing. I think I knew.

It was something I'd never done before. I mean, I knew that things like this went on. Two lovely women locked in a nude embrace, their red lips touching and clinging. Hands exploring the contours of firm, stiff-tipped breasts, or of smooth, curvy asses. But I'd never been in the least bit curious about trying it, myself.

It was not like a man's touch at all. At least, it wasn't when Lara touched me. A guy would have been jabbing his finger up my cunt, trying to get his whole hand inside my pussy. And she just stood there, looking at me with a calm expression on her face, and the red-painted tip of her finger was nestled inside my twat, the nail not even jiggling or scratching at the lining of my pussy mouth.

And I could feel liquid fire starting to boil in my belly, could feel moisture flowing down my tube, wetting the end of her finger. Already the sexy smell of aroused pussy was stronger in my nostrils than the herbal garden shampoo she'd used to wash my hair. I should have guessed when she touched me, when she massaged me so gently and delicately. I should have known this was the obvious next step!

But would I have told her to knock it off, even if I had known? I didn't know, not with her finger in my pussy, my nipples hardening under the calm stare of her eyes. They were brown eyes, soft, liquid, loving. They lifted, from my tits to my face, and I felt myself sinking into those brown pools. Lara gave her finger the tiniest, teeniest wiggle, and I became a piece of jello in her arms.

"It's nicer in the bedroom, Rebecca," she said, and I could just nod, sobbing but not crying.

"T-take me to the b-b-bedroom, then." I said.

She undressed by the bed, where I already lay stretched out. My skin was warm from the bath and pink-glowing where she'd rubbed me dry with the towel. I couldn't take my eyes off her, not even to examine the bedroom, which was truly delicious. The colors were soft and deep. The carpeting on the floor was a foot deep and the bed was an antique four-poster with a canopy top. Satin bedclothes surmounted it, waiting only for Lara's hand to turn down the sheets. The lighting in the room was indirect and cast delightful shadows on Lara's body as she undressed herself for me. I stopped looking at the furnishings the moment she unzipped her slacks and I didn't take my eyes off her till she was lying beside me.

She let her pants drop. Under them she wore the strangest-looking panties I'd ever seen. Silk, and sheer black, with a lacy trimming, and nothing in the crotch except a protruding patch of deep auburn fur. I wanted to touch her panties, to see how real silk felt, but even more I found myself gulping because I knew I also wanted to touch that muff of red hair, to work my fingers in it to feel and caress what was lurking inside it. The hem of Lara's sweater began to rise and, my eyes followed it.

She was tantalizingly slow in exposing her breasts. I knew she had been wearing a bra when she took me upstairs. The sweater fit her rather snugly around the back and I'd noticed the line of her undergarment. When had she taken it off? While I was getting my bath ready? Had she come into the bathroom prepared to seduce me?

Anyway, her tits were bare under the sweater, which I already knew because I'd felt her nipples stiff and perky against my skin while we were kissing in the bathroom. But the sight of them was delight to the eyes and a temptation to the lips and fingers.

Her breasts were small and high-set on her chest. Shaped sorta like champagne glasses, or rather, the insides of champagne glasses. Tapering to points, capped in the tiniest little brown-red nipples I had ever seen, no bigger around than dimes. But the tips extended a long way, and the tips were stiff with passion, and I rubbed my thumb against my index finger, wishing that stiff red nipple was caught between my thumb and finger right now.

She threw her sweater aside, something I'd never have done with a garment as obviously expensive as that sweater, and she sidled onto the bed. One leg stretched across the mattress, the other rested on the floor. I sat up and looked down into her lap. The puff of hair was really sticking out of her crotchless panties and I wanted to touch it so badly.

"Go ahead," Lara invited.

My hand dove into her pubes and the hair on her pussy was fine as spun silk. I touched it with wonder simmering in my heart, and my fingers pressed in, till they tapped the line of her slice. She had a small, tight-feeling gash, and the inner lips didn't stick out at all, which I'd have expected in an older woman like Lara. But I didn't care. It was much nicer to touch her smooth even crease, I suspected, than it would be to feel a cunt whose labia hung down to the knees. It was a soft, moist pussy, and I had only to touch it with a little insistence, for the lips to part and suck me into Lara.

I kept pushing, expecting to feel something, but I couldn't. She reached down, covered my hand, guided me. My finger plunged deeply, suddenly, into her damp snatch, and the muscles of her cunt began to suck at me, contracting in little tremors as I worked myself inside Lara. She closed her eyes, let her head slide back, resting against my shoulder, and she worked my hand fiercely.

"There – there – there!" she moaned, and her pussy erupted around my finger. It must have been a very nice come because she shivered against me for almost a minute and her pussy snapped and rippled along the inserted length of my finger. Wetness oozed from her, and it smelled like honey. I sniffed, appreciating the musky sweet scent, and my arm slipped around Lara.

She turned her head and we kissed and I knew she was thanking me. For what? I'd just wiggled my finger inside her cunt. She'd done all the work. My body started to get cold and I felt awkward and strange and a little silly, sitting here on this plush bed naked, with my finger up the cunt of a woman I'd just met about forty-five minutes ago on the highway.

"Uh," I said, working my finger fret, "Maybe I oughta be…"

Lara shook her head. She put her hands on my shoulders, eased me down onto the bed. I stretched out reluctantly and she started to kiss me passionately on the mouth and nipples, on my stomach and in my armpits. Her tongue glided across my skin and it tickled, but I didn't feel any other response.

"Is something wrong?" Lara asked, raising her head from my tits. "You feel cold." She put her fingers against my cheek. "You feel very cold."

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It's not you. It's me. I'm a pervert of some kind. Maybe I'd better be going. Look, I won't bather you by borrowing any clothes. I'll just put mine back on and get it onto the wad. I really have to be on my way, anyhow. I…" I stopped, for I'd almost said something I shouldn't have.

Lam sat up. So did I. She slipped her arm round my shoulder and put our foreheads together. She was really beautiful – clean, economically chiseled facial features, high cheekbones, that particular kind of hollow-cheeked look you see on the covers of fashion magazines. Her lips were red and glossy, her eyes a sympathetic brown, and her nostrils twitched a little as she looked me eye to eye.

"It isn't you," I repeated. "I told you. It's me. I – well, I sorta turn off, you know? I don't feel anything once it gets started. I just get cold and – it embarrasses me talking about this, and if you don't mind, I'd rather not…"

"I'd rather talk," Lara said softly. "You were okay in the bathroom. I felt your body heating, and your nipples throbbed, and you kissed me when I kissed you. I'm not trying to force you, Rebecca. If you don't want to do it, that's perfectly fine with me. It's your body and your decision."

"That's just it," I said. "You mentioned force." She looked at me curiously. Were her eyes brightening, beginning to sparkle? And if so, why should they? "I told you I was kinky, and, well…"

I told her a cleaned-up version of the story. I changed names and places, so that if anyone came to ask her questions she might not connect Rebecca Lee Butler, fugitive, with the Rebecca she'd picked up on the highway. Though God knew why anyone should come to this house and ask Lara McMinn about a girl wanted by the Ohio police. Still, you have to keep your steps covered.

I told her about Norman and about Bucky, how I'd gone ahead and screwed, with them because I really wanted to – only I didn't really want to, once it got started, and I didn't feel anything except a lot of pain in the ass while it was going on. And I told her about Tony, how he'd raped me the night my mother died – tied me to the bed and fucked the shit out of me. And how I'd turned on like crazy, coming in fountains under him, even if I was tied up and hating him every second while he was screwing me. I glided over the details of what happened after he had finished, just said I'd run away from home and wouldn't go back.

And I told her about Jerry Cornelius, this afternoon, just before she had the kindness to stop and pick me up. He'd raped me too, taken me when I didn't want to be taken, and I'd fought him, fought him courageously until the whole scene started turning me on… again. And only the revulsion I felt toward myself when it was over had led me to pick up that wine bottle and threaten to brain him with it, had gotten me tossed out of the van into a mud puddle.

"Do you see?" I told her finally. "I can't respond to sex. Not normally. I mean, other people can, and I guess they have a good time, but I have never gotten turned on in my life unless…"

Lara nodded. Her face looked cloudy. I guessed she was pretty disgusted with me. Well, that made two of us. She was nice and she had some nice ideas too, but I just couldn't get into the flow of them. The sooner I got going, the better it would be.

She slid off the bed and walked across the room to a large double-door cabinet. She opened the door and I saw that, inside, it was fixed up as a bar. Several decanters, glasses, ice bucket, the whole works. Lara looked over her shoulder. "Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?" I shrugged and nodded. She poured two glasses of red wine and came back to the bed.

I took mine, waiting till she'd sipped at hers. She looked at me over the rim of the glass in her hand, and her eyes had a funny expression. "So," she said, raising her head. "You don't turn on unless you're being raped or brutalized, or whatever?" I nodded, blushing.

Lara's hand jerked back and she flung the contents of her wine glass into my face. I blinked furiously, raised my hand to wipe the liquid out of my eyes. She grabbed my wrist. "Okay, bitch," she said with a snarl. "I think you're about to be raped."

CHAPTER SEVEN

She jerked the glass of wine from my hand, spilling a little of it onto the bedsheets. The stain was red and it spread swiftly. Wine was still running down my face, some of it getting into my mouth. It was the first taste I'd had of Lara's wine and I couldn't help noticing it was very good, much more delicate and lingering than the cheap red wine I'd drunk before.

Lara was breathing heavily, and her eyes seemed to glow red, like burning coals. She pushed me down onto the mattress, then leaned across my prone body and opened the top drawer on the little cabinet beside the bed. I heard clinking, and she turned around, holding a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs. I'd seen them on television but never in real life. "These are for you," she said, then grabbed my wrist.

I said "No!" but she'd already snapped one end of the cuffs around my wrist and she was fastening the other end to the nearest of the bed's corner posts. It snapped and I spun my head around, eyes verifying that I was indeed handcuffed to the bed. There was no doubting that fact. I pulled my hand and the metal bonds snapped taut and strong. "My God," I said, "You're crazy, what are you…"

Lara cupped my chin in one of her hands. "If this is the only way I can get you, really get you, then I'm perfectly willing to do it this way, darling," she said. She squeezed the dimple in my chin and then she got something else from the cabinet drawer. I didn't see what at first, because I was looking in the other direction, at the connection of handcuff and bedpost. Where the steel ring fit around the post, I could see a definite notch, that cut into the varnish of the wood, almost as if.

"And this," Lara announced, crawling down the bed. She grabbed my left foot and stroked me from knee to ankle very tenderly. When her hand came up, she was holding a long strip of leather with a band at one end. She slipped the band over my foot, tucked it round my ankle, pulled till the leather fit snugly but not painfully tight, then began to tie the other end of the strip to the bedpost.

"Wait," I said, struggling. To be honest, I don't believe I struggled very much. I was bound now, left foot and right wrist, and I couldn't have gotten off Lara's bed if I'd wanted to. She knelt, naked, at the foot of the bed watching me, and I saw a pink flush spread down her face, onto the slopes of her small heaving tits. Her nipples were blood red and an inch long. She was breathing hard again, staring at me. It was the same expression I'd seen in my stepfather's face last night, as he looked down at my helpless body before crawling aboard and raping me so savagely – but it was different, too.

Tony's ayes had been full of savage, animalistic passion, but there was a certain tenderness in Lara's despite the glowing arousal she displayed. Somehow I was certain, looking up at her, that she didn't intend to hurt me. But I was helpless, once again, and the old familiar heaving inside. My tummy began to take place. That strange, new Rebecca was coming out of me, taking command. I brought my free leg aver, tight against the leg that was fastened to the bedpost, and I began to work it nervously, as if I were scratching an itch without using my hands.

There was an itching. In my pain, concentrated heavily around the lips of my cunt. And all the leg scratching in the world couldn't stop that itch. Still, I kept working my leg, and Lara's eyes drifted down me, saw the motion. She cupped her small high tits, nipples standing out between, her clutching fingers, and I heard her sigh in a deep but feminine tone.

"Yes," she said finally, "I think you really do turn on this way." She laughed, and one of her hands abandoned a tit, stole down to touch me just above the knee. Her fingers walked up my skin and my free leg slid to the side, giving her access. She leaned forward and one of her breasts touched the leg that was tied to the bed. I felt her nipple hard and very warm against me. I shivered and I murmured, weakly.

"No," I said, but I don't think I meant no.

The point of her chin came to rest on my abdomen, halfway between navel and pubic triangle. Her tits were lying on my thigh now, and the nipples throbbed against my skin. I stained with my handcuffed right arm, felt the steel link grind on my flesh. It was proof positive that once again I was being made a prisoner of sex. A little cry came through my lips. I don't know exactly what it signified to my ears and mind, let alone to Lara's.

She turned her face down and began to breathe across my belly. It was ticklish, stimulating breath, warm and moist, and my stomach tossed up and down. Her lips touched me, and she held on, the way she'd done kissing my mouth. My free hand waved wildly in the air above me. Possibly I could have pushed her head away with it, but the thought never entered my mind.

When my hand came down, it was onto the top of her head, fingers piling into her crown of reddish fuzzy curls. Something in the bedroom lighting made her hair look very red, like a fire dying on the grate, and it was probably just that impression registering in my head, but her hair felt very warm when I touched it. So did her scalp, as my fingers pushed through her hair onto her head itself. Her lips were still glued to my belly but moving downward, slowly, surely.

She got her lips into my pubic V and I got a fast education in what tickling was all about. Her tongue was out now, skating through my pussy hairs, licking around and around the cleft of my slit, stimulating me from the sides but not yet touching me where it really counted. I struggled against the bonds controlling my hand and foot, and the effort was rewarding. My body ached with the desire to be free, but I was so aware that, free, I couldn't think of myself as a prisoner of someone else's lust, unable to control her own destiny. Free, I'd have to be committed, either for or against. Bound, I was a slave and anything that happened to me would simply happen.

Her fingers came up, toyed their way into my crotch, and she began to spread my lips. I shivered and trembled, hand stiff against the imprisoning cuff. "Stop," I said, because it was what I always seemed to say in this position. "Please don't do that."

She wasn't listening. Her fingers came to rest on the edges of my slit and they pulled to each side, opening me widely, not too gently. The labia strained against the pressure on them, but I could feel her warm moist breath flowing into my vulva, too, and I wasn't sure if it really hurt or if I was just thinking that so I could feel less guilty about enjoying what Lara did to me.

And then her tongue shot into my cunt and sparks exploded all around my head. She plumbed me deeply, that first time, and it was like nothing I had ever felt before. Jerry hid licked my pussy this afternoon, but I hadn't responded this way. His tongue hadn't made cold sweat break out all over my body, cold sweat that sizzled to a furious boil as it coursed across my skin. His tongue hadn't flicked my clitoris with just that proper amount of nonchalance mixed with intensity. His fingers hadn't wormed their way into the tip of my hole, spreading me wide, allowing deep penetration by a frisky, knowing tongue, penetration that had my pussy walls quivering, awash with hot internal juices.

She covered my cunt with her entire mouth, teeth grinding into my flesh, tongue prodding inside me, and all the time I kept saying, "My God, Lara, my God," over and over, the only words I could think of for the occasion. One of her hands came up to clasp tightly at my left breast, and her other hand worked its way underneath me, fingers jiggly as they supported my sweat-dampened ass. My entire body was shivering and sweating, as if I were just coming down with a bad case of flu.

I tried to tell myself that none of this was happening to me. Not to the Rebecca Lee Butler I had known all my life with such intimacy. It was the stranger inside me, the creature who'd been born just last night, the one who came to the forefront when the old, familiar Rebecca couldn't handle her feelings any longer.

Yes. It was the strange Rebecca who was jerking and moaning every time Lara McMinn's tongue wiggled like a snake inside the cleft of my twat. It was the stranger Rebecca whose clit was swollen the size of a coat button and as excited as a schoolgirl getting her braces taken off. It was the stranger Rebecca who was sobbing and shaking and pussy-gushing with cum, saying "Eat me, oh, God, Christ, eat meeeee!"

I couldn't move, not enough to count for anything. My left arm and my right leg were unrestrained, but they made no difference. I could only lie on my back while Lara continued to feast at my pussy, eating me with a passion that built and grew each time her tongue worked its way into my pussy. Her fingers were busy around the lips of my slice, keeping me split and open for her invasions, and my clit must have been swollen big enough to bump her nose every time Lara's head moved. She licked my clit, doing it seemingly as an afterthought, but each separate swipe of her tongue across my button sent me into spasms, all the wane for my immobility.

But without that immobility, I couldn't have responded half so heatedly as I did. We'd already demonstrated that. When she and I were sitting on the bed and I had my finger in her pie, and we might as well have been in different states. I'd felt her come, or very nearly come, around my finger, but it was so cold and uninteresting an experience to me that I'd been ready to put on my clothes and bit the road again. But now, oh, God, now! She was staffing my twat and using her fingers on me, and my head tossed from side to side, and I kept stroking her hair, using my leg to rub the flank of her lean, sinuous body, and I felt a come building in me like you wouldn't believe, and I had no idea what would be happening next.

She lifted her head. "Don't stop." I gasped, "Jesus, don't stop! I'm almost there!"

Lara touched my lips with one of her lingers. I tasted my pussy juice on her, and I knew suddenly what the strange taste had been last night, when Tony stuffed my panties into my mouth to gag me from screaming. It was exactly the same fluids aroma that coated Lara's wet sticky finger, and, sampling it so directly now, I found it incredibly delicious. I opened my mouth and her finger slipped inside. I began to suck passionately, vigorously, my tongue sliding and slipping around her finger as it pressed into me. She pushed, made a soft giggling noise, and she rose a little along my body. One of her nipples slid through my pubic hair, hot and stiff, and I moaned tremulously around her inserted finger.

"You like that?" Lara asked lightly. I looked down, saw her take her tit in hand. She pushed the stiff nipple against my slit, pushed until the nipple had worked its way inside, supple yet firm against my cum-slithery vulva. "Try this," Lara suggested, and she jiggled her breast. Her nipple bumped my clitoris, sent explosions thudding through me, and then it slid a little lower, made its way into the very mouth of my pussy tube. The muscles were active, snapping and sucking at her boob, and she moaned a little too, feeding my cunt with her hard, sweet nipple.

I bucked upward, still sucking her finger. Jesus, I almost bit it in two! When that come hit me, it was like being rammed broadside by a truck! I thought of my mother when that image occurred to me, but I am sorry and shamed to say, the thought passed from my mind as quickly as it had entered. All my concentration, and my energy, were focused upon the swift, shattering reaction of my body to Lara's sexual attack, and when I came, I didn't think I was going to stop. Ever.

She worked her nipple into my pussy until my trembling and moaning subsided, and then she leaned back, panting almost as heavily as I was panting after her assault. She stroked me with her hands. "It really was true," she said thoughtfully, one palm lying atop my pubic bush, the other resting on my left thigh about four inches down from my cunt. "You do turn, on like a bandit this way."

My face was red and my breathing was just returning to normal. Inside, from the crown of my head to the wiggly ends of my toes, I felt as if I were on fire. I couldn't lie still, even though the bonds at my wrist and ankle made it difficult for me to do much moving around. "Damn you," I told her. "If I could get my hands onto a chair, I'd…"

"You'd what?" Lara asked. She moved up my body quickly, caught me by the face, kissed me warmly, wetly, on the mouth. Her lips parted and I felt my tongue stab into her. I had no control over my tongue. It was operating independently. I could only lie there while it thrust into Lara, wiggle, met the frisky wiggly thrust of her own red tongue. We spilled drool back and forth, and I couldn't believe how full of saliva my own mouth was. I might as well have been pissing through my lips. Our mouths crammed together, wet, hot, sloshing, and even our tits seemed to be kissing as they pressed together, all four nipples stiff and thrusting, all four curved mounds sloppy with sweat.

Lara pulled back and I was the one reluctant to let go, it appeared. My head lifted in pursuit of her face, lips smacking wetly, but she moved back further than I could reach, tied down as I was.

"You're making me do this," I said. "I don't want to, but you're making me. Please untie me. I don't know what's happening."

"It's all part of the game, isn't it, darling?" Lara said. She stroked my forehead, brushed back a few strands of long hair that had fallen into my eyes. There was a musky aroused smell clinging to her body, fogging around it like a mitt, nearly as strong as the hot pussy scent coming from between my own legs. Her breasts moved fitfully as she breathed, and the nipples seemed to wobble before my eyes. They were still long and erect, redder than before, if that was possible. I reached my free hand up, toward those breasts, but Lara moved out of my way with a laugh.

"It won't be that easy," she said, "not if you like to play games. You'll have to work and fight to get what you want."

She picked up the glass of wine she'd poured for me. It was still full. I hadn't had time to do more than lap at it before she threw her wine in my face and tied me to the bed. She knelt beside me holding the crystal glass, and then she moved. One leg slipped over my body, and I was looking up into the fat puff of reddish hair exposed by her crotchless panties. Amid the hairs I could see, very clear, very distinct, the deep cleft of her pussy, the little beads of moisture that clung to the hairs immediately surrounding Lara's slit. She was turned on, too, and that made me feel very, very good.

"Your turn now," she said, and she plopped her twat down upon my face. Hair and musk filled my mouth and nose and I couldn't breathe. Lara pound herself down hard, wiggling her snatch across my mouth, and I gasped and choked and coughed. "Eat it," she said. "Eat it the way I ate you. You know how, don't you, Rebecca?"

"N-n-noooooo," I moaned, twisting my head to the side so I could speak. "I don't know how."

"Do whatever you think would feel good if someone else were doing it to you," Lara suggested. She pushed down harder, and there was no way I could avoid the presence of her cunt.

Sighing, I turned my face upward and my nose burrowed into her warm wet crotch.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My tongue wormed upward, into her fuzzy red patch of hair, and I giggled at the ticklish stimulation that passed along my tongue's length. Then I touched flesh, and giggling didn't seem appropriate and longer.

She was warm, with a tingling meaty taste, and my tongue tapped her again and again. Lara twisted to one side and my tongue scraped across the mouth of her slash. At the touch, she pressed down upon me and my tongue had nowhere to go except inside her, and that's exactly where it went. She was sopping wet, past the moist sweet cleft of her, and for the first time in my life, I tasted the honey drippings of a pussy in heat.

"Your hand," Lara said. "Use your hand on me, too!"

Well, she didn't have to tell me twice! In fact, my hand was already moving to join in when she spoke. My fingertips brushed the smooth sweaty flesh of her hip, then slid around to attack her pussy from the rear, the way she'd attacked mine in the bathroom when she first made a pass at me. I karate-chopped through her crack and my fingers found her twat from behind, one digital tip entering her easily-parted gates, the others drumming rat-a-tat-tat on the flesh surrounding the portals.

Her pussy was just as active, internally, as it had been when I fingered her on the bed a little while ago. The undulating muscles caught my finger in their spellbinding trap and pulled me deep, deep, deep into Lara. The sucking, the rippling, the sticky hot wetness – it must have been very much like drowning in quicksand. My finger pushed hard, sank deeper and deeper into her, until my knuckles were grinding furiously against her labia.

And all the while my tongue was busy too. I licked her slit, inside, outside, filled my mouth with her sweet, puss-flavored hairs, absorbed the meaty arousal of her cunt. My smacking lips kissed hard against her slice and my tongue stole forth, crept inside where it roved and explored alongside my finger. She was totally alive in there, a hotbed of responsive tissue sucking at me, pulling, drawing me inside her. Lara's pussy seemed to be alive, eager and willing to eat me up. As I licked and stabbed digitally into her twat, I felt that the gates of her slice were opening wider and wider, pulling me inside the woman's body, devouring me totally.

A heady feeling, to say the least! But I worked into it, co-operating, lending my tongue and my finger willingly. The taste of Lara reminded me that there were many worse things to be swallowed up in.

"My God, you're good," Lara called, riding down heavy and cunty on my face. The lips of her pussy squashed against me, spread wider, and my finger slipped deeper and deeper into her quivering box. I knew the come-feeling well enough from masturbating myself, and I could sense it in Lara McMinn's trembling body and sloppy puss. The realization made me scarf her all the more vigorously, determined to make her explode the way she'd made me.

God, be praised, I had that one hand untied and unfettered! I could use it on her, poke her pussy, slide back and forth across her perineum while my was busy inside her, even tickle her tight puckered asshole by way of diversion. And through it all, Lara rocked on my face, slamming down to drown me in the aroma of her frothing pussy, riding high only to come down again harder than before. Me? I guess you could say I ate it up.

Oh, did I eat it up! I mean, I was her prisoner, wasn't I? She had me handcuffed and tied to the bed, just the way Tony had done with his ropes and cords, the way Jerry had done in the van by sheer muscle power. I was immobile. If I wanted to live through this agony, I had to co-operate.

Oh, my God, she hadn't said a Goddamned thing about killing me or beating my face to a pulp or hammering me senseless – all she had done was tie me to the bed and I'd started salivating at her pussy like one of Pavlov's dogs! It was a chain reaction. I'd come all over her grinding face and shivered and shaken, and now I was responding just the way she'd requested – not commanded – me to respond. It was scary, in its way. Rebecca Lee Butler of Reckardsville, Ohio, seemed a long, long way in my past. I didn't know who I was now; I only knew that I was chomping like crazy on another woman's pussy and loving every second of my enforced sexual submission.

"Try this," Lara suggested, leaning back. She placed the edge of the wine glass on her belly, just below her tiny navel, and she started to pour the red liquid down herself.

It flowed through her pussy hair, separating into a dozen different streams, all of them converging on my mouth where it sucked lasciviously at Lara's pussy. The wine entered my mouth, mingled and mixed with the flowing secretions of Lara's cunt, and both her juices and her wine took on a new, fascinating flavor when they oozed across my tongue. She kept pouring, and my tongue acted as a funnel and as a brush. First I slurped in the wine, then I dribbled it out across her pussy flesh, lapping it home once again, this time to stay.

As if I needed extra stimulation! The handcuff on my wrist was chafing my skin every time my hand moved, but my hind didn't stop moving. Even the chafing felt too. I strained with that hand, wanting to touch Lara with it. Her nipples were high above me, stiff and straining, red targets for a hand that could not quite reach their points of ecstasy. My other hand was too busy in her cunt and crack to spare any time for reaching high and, though I knew the attempt was doomed from the start, I kept on struggling with my other hand, struggling to reach her sweet hot body.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" Lara gasped, slamming her cunt home atop my face. My tongue wiggled up inside her and I wondered – was it true! Was this the first time I'd ever eaten a pussy? I seemed to be adjusting to it like a duck to water.

Back home in Reckardsville it would have been scandalous, what I was doing. Reckardsville is a small town and gossip spreads fast. Everybody knows who is doing what, and when, and where, and how. But I wasn't in Reckardsville now. I was in a small ton in central Missouri and, probably, the people who lived here thought that gossip and rumor were just as widespread. And I was only passing through, a stranger in a strange land. Nobody who lived in this town should even have reason to care what I did or who I did it with. If I wanted to eat Lara McMinn's pussy, it was her secret and mine. Tomorrow I'd be gone and that would be the end of it.

Would it? For me? As I lapped hungrily at the sweet juices of her cunt, I somehow knew that the very next chance I got, I would be performing this act again. Maybe without the aid of bondage. Maybe I'd just see a girl I liked and put the matter to her straightforwardly and we'd adjourn to a bedroom or some secluded place where I could get my mouth onto her crack. And I'd eat, and I'd eat, and I'd eat…

What about men? I didn't know. Men were something else. When I thought of a man, I thought either of Norman and Bucky fucking atop me while I counted sheep and tiled to stay awake underneath. Or of Tony and Jerry, ravishing me cruelly but with such passion my body could do nothing but respond, unwilling or no. I warn't sure about men. I'd have to do some looking around, some more testing. God, I might have been a latent lesbian all these years, just waiting for someone to turn me on and out. The thought was chilling but it didn't prevent my tongue from stabbing into Lara again and again as she rode my face.

My finger was pushing at Lara's asshole. She squealed softly atop me, and she wiggled her butt, but she didn't get out of the way and I took that for a good sign. I pushed a little harder, till her sphincter muscle quivered, then relaxed, and my finger stabbed into her anus.

"Owwwwwww!" she cried above me, and there was a flutter in her voice, a rising and falling of pitch that might have signified pain or pleasure. I hesitated a moment, listening to her cry out. She wiggled her bottom and an inch of my finger slipped up her rectum. That was the sign I was looking for.

My tongue shot up her cunt and I started to work my finger in and out. Slowly, at first, because she was tight. But she was cooperating, and evidently willing herself to go loose and free around me. My finger moved with greater and greater ease slippin through the greasy liquid tightness of her asshole and rectum, and each stroke I gave her made Lara McMinn's small red mouth whimper, high above me. Yes, I thought, if this is what you want, then Rebecca Lee Butler is the girl to give it to you.

"If you're stopping," Lara warned, "I'll whip you! I mean it! With an honest to God whip!" She caught my head in bath hands, held it steady while she fucked my face with her sloppy cunt. The juices smeared my mouth, wetted my nostrils reminded me what I was supposed to be doing. I plunged my finger all the way into her asshole and raised my lips slightly, fastening them to the glisteny, hard button of her clitoris. As my finger worked in and out of her butt, I began to suck her nubbin, and I mean suck!

I used my lips and my tongue, even my teeth. I knew it must be agonizingly painful to Lara, but I didn't care. My chin was tight against the mouth of her hole and the girl-jism oozed from her in an apparently nonstop river flow. And like a leech, through it all I grasped her clit in my mouth and I sucked and I chewed and I pulled, with Lara screaming at the top of her lungs and collapsing, her pussy glued to my exhausted mouth. My finger gave two or three more spasmodic jerks in her sucking rectum and it was all over except the moaning.

She did plenty of that, quivering, throbbing, atop me, and I guess I did a little bit myself. There was a hot fire in my pussy, brought on solely by what I had done to Lara. As she went limp over my mouth, I got my finger out of her ass and thrust it down, into my crotch. Two strokes, three strokes, four strokes over my clitoris, and I was coming again too, sobbing out my joy into the muff of hair that covered my whimpering face.

"Aren't you going to untie me?" I asked weakly as Lara stretched naked and glowing beside me. My free hand slid across her belly, into the puff of reddish hair at the arch of her joined thighs, framed in the piece artfully cut out of her sheer black panties. She covered my hand with her own, pressed my fingers onto the sopping wet muffin, the itchy warm slit lurking amid the hair, the slit I'd already licked and sucked to pulsating orgasm.

"Not yet," she said. "I think you enjoy it too much."

"No," I said quickly, straining with hand and foot, trying to show her how anxious I was to be released from my bondage. The steel band of handcuff chafed my wrist. "Please untie me. I don't want to be trussed up like some kind of animal. I want…"

"Do you know what you want, Rebecca?" She was on her side now, facing me, and her eyes were clear and penetrating. Lara continued to stare me down. Finally I surrendered. I settled back onto the bed, my free hand laid across my tummy. I shook my head with reluctance. I didn't know what I wanted.

"This," she said, indicating the handcuff, the leather loop holding my ankle, "this is just a game, Rebecca. Whether you know it or not, you're playing that game. I think I understand you. Small town girl? Brought up to think of yourself as a nice girl, too, and we all know that nice girls don't do certain things, don't enjoy certain feelings. Two to one your mother was always evasive when you talked about sex. If you talked about it. And when you decided to surrender, you picked someone who was safe and stodgy and probably as inexperienced as you were, and it was a fizzle, the way that kind of fucking all too often turns out to be. Am I getting warm, dear?"

My blush was all the answer she needed. Lara was batting 1000.

"Boys!" she said. "They have one big advantage. Staying power. But until they've been taught their trade, they're worse than useless. They're frustrating to any woman who really wants something because they don't know how to give it to her. A girl should never get it from a boy, her first time. She should find herself a man. Someone who knows how to make her sob and shake and moan. Someone – maybe like that terrible stepfather of yours? Mmmmmmm?"

"My stepfather was a sonofabitch. He tied me to the bed and he raped me. The night my mother died. I'd kill him again if I had the…" I stopped, big-eyed. I'd let it slip, finally. My confession. Maybe when I got into court I could tell the judge that Lara hadn't read my rights to me beforehand. Maybe that would save me from the chair.

Lara sat up. "Kill?" she said. "Is there something you haven't told me, Rebecca? Something that perhaps I ought to know?"

I took a deep breath. "Will you unfasten me first? I can't even think straight with these things tying me down!"

Lam slid closer, till her stiff-nippled tits touched my arm. She put her hand on my cheek. "You can trust me," she said. "So talk. Anyway, you're in no position to be making demands and, if you've killed somebody, maybe it's safer to keep you tied down."

She was right. I tested the handcuff, found it hadn't weakened since the last time I flexed my hand in it. I was in no position to be making demands. "Okay," I said, and I told her the part of the story I'd kept to myself earlier. How I'd killed my stepfather in a fit of outrage and shame, how I was on the run, that I had to get dressed and on my way before the avenging angels of justice caught up with me.

Lam frowned, once she'd heard the dirty details. "Jack could probably get you off," she mused. "Oh, Jack could certainly get you off, but I mean in his professional capacity. Still – are you sure you killed him? Could you have been mistaken? I mean, it sounds as if you batted him and then ran like hell. Did you check his pulse, his vital signs? Maybe it's nothing worse than assault and battery."

I didn't think so, and I assured her. She frowned again. "What's your home phone number, Rebecca?" She slid off the bed and went to her nightstand. There was a small pink phone on it, which I hadn't noticed because it didn't seem important. But when she picked up the receiver, it seemed that that telephone was the entire, total center and focus of my existence. Her finger poised above the push-button dial. "NO, I can't tell you…"

She gave me a penetrating look. I shrank under her glare. She held the receiver to her ear. "Area Code 614," I began.

Lam dialed, and I could hear the little musical tones as the number was registered at the Bell offices. I could even hear the ring as the phone in our house buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, but nobody would ever answer it, except maybe the police, and… "Hello?" Lara said. "One moment, please." Just like a long distance operator. She held the phone to my ear.

"What the hell is it?" vibrated into my eardrum.

"Tony?" I said, frozen with astonishment.

"Goddamn you," he snarled, "what the hell did you hit me with? My head is killing me and I think I got a concussion and I'm gonna have a scar. Where the fuck are you calling from, you little cunt? I'm gonna put some scars on your cute little ass, Becky baby, some real scam!"

I shook my head, and the blood had all run out of my face. Lara took the phone, put it to her ear, listening a moment. I guess Tony was still yammering on about what he'd do once he got his hands on me.

"Listen," she said sharply, "why don't you go take a flying fuck at your asshole, you asshole!" And she slammed down the phone. Hard.

"Well," she went on, hands on her hips. "He seems to be in good health, if not in great spirits. So – you can stay for dinner, then? Jack will be home in an hour or so, plenty of time to broil steaks, bake some potatoes." She reached into the ajar cabinet drawer, brought out a key. It was the key to my handcuffs. She unlocked them, releasing my hand. I sat up, rubbing my chafed wrist, trying to convince myself that I hurt.

"Do you make a good salad?" she asked, untying the leather thong from the foot post. "Jack loves salad, but I just don't have the knack for blending vegetables. Maybe you can work on the salad while I take care of the steaks. The two of us ought to be able to…"

She kept talking but I found it hard to believe what I'd already heard her say, let alone anything else she might add. Hp husband? God, I'd seen her big gold wedding band as soon as I got into the car with her, but it had slipped my mind completely during what had followed. Who was thinking of husbands when Lara was kissing, touching me, tying me to the bed, ravishing me totally? Ten minutes ago she'd been coming in my mouth, and now she was talking about dinner and the importance of having a good meal ready for her husband when he got home from work. I tensed up into a tight little ball of worried girl. Had I gone from horrors to the crazies?

CHAPTER NINE

It was amazing how good I felt, once Lara and I were in the kitchen bustling about. And I really was pretty good with salads, so I threw myself into the making of that one. She looked over my shoulder every now and then, admired the progress, gave me a little nip on the neck just to remind me she was there, thinking about me. If it hadn't been for that, I might almost have been able to forget that we'd spent the best part of the afternoon in bed together. She was chipper and efficient, a model housewife, and she looked gorgeous in a fresh, expensive silk shirt and slacks combination that really showed off her slender, attractive figure. She might have stepped out of a magazine fashion pictorial.

As for me, Lara had insisted that I pick something from her wardrobe. My first choice, and she agreed enthusiastically, was a cream-colored dress, simple-lined but just a little slinky too. It felt expensive, and it fit almost perfectly, with a couple of exceptions. The hemline was about an inch shorter than I usually wore my dresses and the bodice fit rather tightly, as if should have, since Lara's tits were smaller than mine.

"Can you breathe?" she asked, stroking my boobs. I nodded. "Then it's perfect." Her finger touched the impression of a stiff nipple in the clingy fabric. I was only wearing panties under the dress, since I didn't have a bra and Lara's were too small. "Mmmm," she said, pushing as if my nipple were a button control. "More than perfect. And I know Jack will like it too."

That worried me. Jack, I mean. How could I sit at the table with her husband and talk and chat freely, when I'd spent the afternoon eating and being eaten by his wife? I just knew I'd lose my composure and get flustered and blush all the time. Didn't Lara have any shame at all? Maybe this had happened before. Maybe she had a whole secret daytime life and it had become second nature to her, something she could conceal without effort. For myself, I didn't know if I could handle it, and I was still wondering when Lara lifted her head and said, "There, that's him. Right on time."

She went out to meet her husband and led him into the kitchen. "Darling," she said, "this is Rebecca Lee Butler, a charming young woman I met today. She's had same misfortunes, which we can talk about after dinner, since you might be able to help, but she's a delightful person. I'm sure you're going to like her as much as I do."

"Hello, Rebecca," Jack said, offering his hand.

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but he was a very pleasant man and when he shook my hand and smiled gravely but sincerely, I brightened up all over. He was nice, I thought, and I wondered how Lara could possibly feel the urge to go after women when she had him around. Could he be a dud in the bedroom? He didn't look like one, and she kissed him in front of me, kissed him with shameless passion which he reciprocated totally.

Jack was about five-nine, not awfully tall for a man, but he was the neatest package in his size I'd ever seen. Nicely-tailored suit and vest – he looked like an attorney, which I knew he was. Attractive but not pretty face, hair thinning, a little on top, and a body that struck me as almost perfect, neither muscle-bound nor skinny. He must exercise a lot, I thought. I guess he was in his late thirties. Jack was charming, and he seemed to radiate an aura that rippled onto me and made me feel very good just to be around him. Maybe, I thought, maybe I won't be so flustered and embarrassed after all.

We had dinner, and afterwards we went into the den for coffee. I brought in the tray, set it down on Jack's desk. Lara closed the door and came up slowly behind me, speaking in a soft voice. "Jack, darling," she was saying, "I hope you like Rebecca as much as I do." He was sitting behind his desk, lounging back in his chair, and I saw him nod, just as Lara put her hand on my shoulder. His eyes lifted, focused on mine for a moment, then began to drop very slowly downward, as if he were studying me from head to toe. In a moment I realized that he was, and that his eyes seemed to be spending a lot of time staring at my breasts, which looked fuller, than usual because of the tight bodice of this borrowed dinner dress.

My face began to redden a little, and it was just about that moment when Lara grabbed my arms from behind and pulled me back, till I was bent like a bow, my head resting on her shoulder.

"Hey!" I said. "What are you doing?" She tightened her grip on my arms and I cried.

"Ohhhhhh!" Jack got up from behind the desk and walked around it slowly, still looking me up and down. He put his hands on his hips, pushing back the tails of his coat, and he tilted his head this way and that, sizing me up, you might say.

"Let go," I told Lara in a tight, startled voice.

Her reply was to get a little tighter on me, and her strength was rather surprising. I suppose I'd already had a taste of her physical strength this afternoon, but it was still astonishing because she was such a slender/willowy thing. Maybe she and Jack exercised together.

"Go ahead," Lara invited over my shoulder while I twitched and struggled fitfully in her grasping embrace. "You've been wanting to ever since you got your first look at them. Use the scissors. It's an old dress."

Jack smiled. "You think of everything, don't you, Lara?" He moved some papers on his desk, came up with a pair of silver-plated scissors, big, threatening. He looked at them, then at me, and he came toward me, snapping the blades.

"Wh-What are you…" I stammered, but by the time I got the wards out he was there, in front of me, and I knew what he was going to do.

Jack McMinn took hold of the neck of my borrowed dress and he started to cut it, from neck to navel, with the snapping scissors. Cut it open, I mean, absolutely ruining that lovely dress. The scissor blade tapped against my skin as he made his initial cut, and then he seized the fabric and just ripped it, ripped it open. I gasped and my tits came falling out the tear, which he widened with his tipping hands. Lara tilted my head back, and my boobs lifted. The nipples were hard with fear and – yes, admittedly, a little arousal too. Jack cupped my tits in his hands and began to ply them like a baker molding lumps of dough.

"Oh, God," I said, squirming. It was happening to me again! Was this my destiny? Had Lara been kind to me only so she and Jack could join for a mutual assault on my self-respect, just when I thought I'd found it again? Jack squeezed my tits until the nipples popped out between his clasping fingers. He scissored his knuckles on my tits, pinching till my eyes welled with involuntary tears.

"Fantastic," he said. "But you always did have a good eye, darling."

"Kiss her," Lara commanded, holding my head in place.

"Gladly." Jack leaned in and covered my mouth with his own in a crushing, soul-wrenching kiss. My body jerked internally and externally, and I trashed like a dying fish, but Lara's strong arms and firm body held me upright while Jack continued to ravish my mouth.

His tongue went inside me, crawling, exploring, tickling the interior of my mouth. It was a frisky tongue, and it seemed to take joy in what it was doing. By degrees, my tongue began to respond to his, twitching, flitting about, now eluding his, now joining it. This, I thought, is what French kissing is supposed to be all about! A lot of times in the past I'd done what I thought was soul-kissing, but each moment Jack's tongue worked in me I realized how much I still had to learn about so many things.

He leaned against me, and there was a stirring hardness in his pants, a steely bar of rigid meat that grew bigger and bigger each time he rubbed me. My knees began to weaken and thank God Lara was behind me, holding me up, or I might have collapsed then and there. As it was, I could scarcely breathe, the way he was kissing me, and my nipples were stiffening against his warm, moist hands, stiffening, throbbing.

"Don't you think it's only fair to be as nice to… Jack as you were to me, Rebecca?" Lara whispered into my ear. Her tongue was active in my ear, punctuating her soft-spoken words, and fuzzy auburn hair tickled the side of my face where she touched me. I remembered that hair. There was a curly helmet of it on her head and a wiry bush between her legs. I'd dipped my tongue and nose into her red-furred pussy. I could almost taste it again right now.

But no! That was Jack's saliva mixing with mine, the meaty snakiness of his tongue rolling round in my mouth, the fragrant aroma of his cologne attacking me from the front while Lara brought up the flank and rear. I was being double teamed, and I was just a weak, very weak, young girl, in no condition to resist such an insistent kind of attack. If I even wanted to. Something inside told me I didn't, and I decided to ride with that feeling. Who could it hurt?

We wound up in the bedroom. It was my second visit, that day, and I mentally said "Hi" to the familiar surroundings. My torn, ruined dress was falling off my shoulders by the time we'd climbed the stairs, and it slid completely off as Lara and Jack bustled me into the bedroom. I was still a little shaken by the suddenness of what had started down in the den, but every time I looked down at the giant bulge in Jack's well-fitting pants I got a little less frightened, a little more interested. I stumbled once, and my bare leg brushed his hard-on, and a tingle raced up and down my body.

All I had on were panties, borrowed from Lara, like the dress. The only clothes I had to my name were the muddy sweatshirt and jeans downstairs in the laundry room, waiting to be washed. Mmnmmm, I thought, standing by the bed, I can't even leave till I get my clothes cleaned. Else I'll have to go naked into the world. Nice thought. I stretched, preening myself a little bit more than I needed to. I made my titties jiggle, which they could do quite well by themselves, but it made me feel good, that little heave and bobble on my chest, and I knew that Jack and Lara were both taking it in with approving eyes.

"I knew," Lara said, "as soon as I got a look at her tits that you'd want to meet Rebecca, darling." She was taking off her silk shirt, unbuttoning it with long lazy fingers, stretching put the revelation of her own perfect little breasts. Finally she eased out of the shirt and stood for a long moment, her tits and their hard red nipples on display. My mouth began to water and I touched the nearest tit, my fingers pinching softly at the red erect beacon.

"Oh," I said, blushing, remembering that Jack McMinn was standing there watching. Maybe he didn't know about his wife's fondness for girl-flesh. I peeked over my shoulder, saw his smile of reassurance. How could he not know?

I stooped a little and began to lick Lara's nipple, the way she'd licked mine. Her fingers curled in my hair, as they'd done when she shampooed me in the tub, and it felt just as nice now. My tongue glided across the hard, long teat, and then it seemed to jump into my mouth. I started sucking, uncertain at first if I was doing right. But the tattoo her fingers drummed on my skull told me that I was behaving quite properly, and that was good, because I enjoyed it so much I'd have hated to learn I wasn't sucking a tit the right way.

As I sucked at Lara, something touched my ass. I didn't have to look to know it was Jack's hand. He stroked my butt, heating me through the thin nylon of the panties, and then his hand slipped inside, getting right to the source. His finger was big and solid in my crack, and he stroked me up and down the cleft, till my butt wiggled from side to side and the crotchpiece of my panties was getting soaked from pussy dew as it leaked out my gash.

He got his finger into my cunt just about the time I switched to Lara's other nipple, and every time he tickled my clit, I ground my teeth down on his wife's titty. She groaned and tensed against me, and I groaned too, thrusting my bottom at Jack's finger, and everything seemed to be going just perfectly.

His hand eased out of my pants, and I heard him moving around, but I was too busy kissing and sucking Lara's tits to pay much attention. She cuddled me to her bosom and she was saying, "Yes, Rebecca, keep on, don't stop, mmmmmmm! Do you like my titties, Rebecca? They're small but they're sweet, aren't they?" They were, tasting of cologne and a little talcum, but they didn't need artificial enhancement. The tang of Lara's flesh was enough for me. "Jack likes them too," Lara went on, flexing her arms on my head as she drew me to her. "He likes them, but once in a while he likes to bury his face between a pair of really big boobs. Like yours, darling. Will you let Jack bury his face between your tits? Will you let me bury my face between them again, too?"

"Mmmmmmm-hmmmmmm!" I agreed wholeheartedly, still sucking.

There was more motion behind me, and Jack came up again. He took hold of my panties, slid them down over the swell of my ass, and then he touched me with something thick and hot and bare. It was his cock, and he rubbed it over and over my naked ass, till I was squirming and twitching and anxious to get an to Round Two. I could have suckled Lara all night, but somehow I knew that even better things were in store for me. My luck had finally changed.

I straightened up, kissed Lara on the mouth, then turned to Jack, ready to see what service I could render him.

He stood there, naked, his hard-on thrusting out like a pole from his groin, and his naked body was at least twice as attractive as when he wore clothes. Nothing to excess. That was Jack McMinn. Lean and hard-looking, everything in its proper place, neither too little nor too much anywhere.

Except maybe his rod. It was fat, about seven inches long, just a little big for his lean frame, I thought, but so what? Who cared if his dick was too big? A woman complain about a cock being too large? Jack brought his left hand around, from behind his body. He was holding the handcuffs.

"Oh, my God," I said, shrinking back. Back, against Lara, who caught me, held me the way she had downstairs in the den. "No," I said, trembling in her arms, "not now, please, I don't…"

Jack caught my hand where it flew up in defense, and he snapped the cuff round my wrist with a flourish. He was smiling, and his cock bobbed up and down every time he took a step on the floor. Lara let go of me, and Jack pulled me to him.

"Lara says you turn on with bondage," he murmured, kissing my jawbone all the way back to my ear while I strained and writhed against him. When my hand moved, the steel cuffs slinked, and suddenly I didn't want it to be this way, not again. I knew that given half a chance I could turn an totally, without the need for restraint and force.

"Please…" By that time they were taking me to the bed, easing me down onto the mattress. The sheets had been pulled up and ordered after Lara and I were finished, but Lara pulled them down again and I could see the wine stain on the bottom sheet, where wine had dripped from my face after she'd emptied her glass on me. Jack moved across the bed ahead of me, and once more my hand was fastened to the bedpost. I looked up at the canopy overhead, and I kept saying, "No, we don't have to, please…"

Jack straddled my prone body and he angled his hard rod down, toward my face. "Eat it," he said. "Eat all of it."

It bumped my lips, which treacherously opened, and he thrust into my mouth. The sudden plunge of his dong almost choked me, at first, but I opened my mouth and throat as fully as possible and it didn't seem so uncomfortable, even though I was handcuffed to the bed all over again and not really enjoying it, not this time.

I had one hand free, and I brought it up, circling the fingers around Jack's prick. That way I could control how much of him entered my mouth. I could suck him more slowly, more carefully. And, to be honest, I wasn't very good at eating dick, so I had to be slow and careful.

Jack leaned forward, grasped the headboard. His knees were alongside my head and his prick thrust deeply into my mouth. It seemed to touch the back of my throat and for a moment I felt ready to gag, but I willed myself to forget that and concentrate on sucking him. Oh, damn it, why couldn't I use both hands on him? I wanted to use both hands. I didn't want to be tied down any more. Never again! Never! It had only been an illusion. All I needed was someone to turn me on, the right way, and I could simply throw myself into the fun. Tony and Jerry, for all their force and brutality, had helped me find my sensual being. I suppose I owed them a little bit of gratitude for that.

But Lara had been the one who put it into proportion for me. She was the first person who'd brutalized me gently, knowingly. When it was over I hadn't gone looking for something to bash her with. That seemed very important right now, as I sucked Jack's dick and tried to put my thoughts into the proper order. The strange Rebecca, the person who'd come stealing out of my interior and caught me by surprise – she wasn't a bad person. In fact, I kinda liked her. She could make life a lot of fun if I gave her half a chance. And I think she was in full charge of me now, had been ever since Jack snipped my dress open and started feeling my tits downstairs in the den. Rebecca, I said, welcome! I think I'm gonna like you!

If only I wasn't handcuffed to the Goddamned bed! Handcuffs! Ropes! Electric cords! Strong hands tight around my throat! Voices saying "If you don't do it, I'm gonna kill you!" I didn't need them for an excuse. I could turn on without artificial aids. My hand jerked at the clinking handcuff, stretched it taut between me and the bedpost.

The bed sagged a little and I knew without looking that Lara had joined us, the three of us now, sharing one bed. A soft, warm hand slipped into my crotch. I spread my legs willingly, quickly. A finger tickled my slit, teasing me mercilessly before she decided to knock off the teasing and stick it in, where it belonged!

I moaned "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" around Jack's rod as Lara's middle finger went up me, as her knuckles ground against the mouth of my cunt. Inside, I was wet and juicy. Maybe I would be permanently wet and juicy in there, from now on. Mmmmmm, I hoped so! It would save so much time.

Jack leaned back, his cock emerging slowly from my mouth I tried to recapture him with snapping lips and flying tongue, but it was a lost cause. My hand squeezed at his base, my fingers stroked his balls, and then he was out of me, sliding back.

He knelt on one side of me, Lara on the other. "Hey," I said, "why don't you unlock this thing? It sorts cramps my style."

"But we like it," Lara purred, caressing one of my tits while Jack toyed with the other. "You're helpless, immobile, a slave to our lusts. It's definitely a turn-on, Rebecca, not only for the one in bondage, but for the ones who own the keys, too, darling. Or didn't you know that? I suppose not. You've only been a victim. Maybe you're fated to be a victim, Rebecca. But it's not so bad, is it, Jack?"

"I don't know," Jack said, flicking his fingertip back and forth across my nipple. "I'm not the victim type."

Lam laughed. "And Rebecca is. Well, I suppose we'd better make the most of her while she's ours." She lifted her leg. "Out of the way, dear. I have some business to conduct with Rebecca's darling mouth." She planted her pussy on my face and slithered down. "Eat me," she commanded, "as sweetly as you ate me this afternoon, if you don't mind."

Her pussy lips flared outward as they pressed down onto my mouth and I had no choice but to run my tongue up into Lara McMinn. The taste that flowed into my lips as I speared into her cunt was almost worth the agony at my handcuffed wrist. She was wet and fluid inside, tangy with the musky secretions of a woman in heat. I lapped and drank her juices with a growing passion that almost made me forget the humiliation she and Jack were intent on putting me through, whether I wanted it or not.

I brought my free hand up, stroked her lovely body. It was warm and moist, and she guided my fingers, bringing them up to her stiff nipples sliding them down to her fuzzy auburn-fleeced crotch so I could tickle her while I nourished myself at her gash. My finger slipped into the upper part of her cleft, found her throbbing clit, began to toy with it. She liked it. I heard her cry out, "Ohhhh yeeesssss…" in a dreamy delighted voice, and her pussy slapped up and down on my face, one-two-three, smearing me with her flowing juices, heating me with the warmth of her burning flesh. My tongue shot into her each time she came down, thrust after her when she lifted up, and I panted in eager anticipation of each fresh slain down onto me. My hand was on her ass now, pinching the hard, muscular buttocks, slapping them now and then in a totally spontaneous gesture. But Lara seemed to enjoy it, because she whined and moaned all the harder and her pussy ground furiously against my eager lips and tongue.

Something was changing between my legs, too. Hands were down there. They couldn't be Lara's hands because hers were on my head. It had to be Jack, and I knew it was, as soon as his thick middle finger worked into my twat. I was almost as juicy as Lara, just from mental excitement, and he worked his way into me, wiggled, played, tickled, and I got wetter and wetter. My legs spread at his command, and the bed sagged in a different way, and it was his face, moving into the battle along with his hands.

I liked that. Very much. Lara's mouth had been the most exciting thing that ever happened to my pussy, this afternoon, but Jack was no slouch in his way. God bless him! He spread me and he started licking, and he licked every inch of my vulva, dipping into my hole now and then as if he wanted to pick up a little of the sweetness overflowing from my depths. His tongue was a hot, wet snake, diving into hot wet cunt, and I writhed and squirmed each time he laid his tongue across me like an electric wire shaved down to the current.

"That's it, Jack," I heard Lara say. "Eat her raw! She loves it. Almost as much as she loves being tied down and forced into it! Suck her for me! Oh, God, darling, can you taste her yet? Is she creaming into your mouth yet? She tastes like oatmeal, with oodles and oodles of milk and sugar. Sweet, tangy, fresh, like a young girl ought to taste. Eat her, Jack, make her come!"

Oh, God, he was doing it! My body rocked upward almost as she was speaking, and I was thrashing and rolling and moaning my delight into Lara's dominant twat. My own cunt was juicing and foaming and exploding in joy. Once again I'd done it, blasted off while I was being forcibly fucked. I could taste the tears rolling down my cheeks, mixing into the juices from Lara's twitching pussy, and it was a bitter taste indeed, for me.

CHAPTER TEN

Lam pressed down three or four times more, while Jack continued to finger and suck my creaming snatch, and then her pussy lifted up, high, higher than I could reach with my mouth. I pulled at her with my hands but she was bent on getting off me, and I couldn't stop her. "Come back," I moaned. I was losing Lara's pussy just when it promised to spill a river of jism into my mouth.

She went onto her knees beside me. I looked up at her, those stiff red nipples shining with sweat, and I looked down at Jack, who was busy gobbling my gash.

"I don't know what's happening to me," I sobbed, "and I don't even know if I like it. Is there anything wrong with me? Is there anything really wrong with me?"

"Of course not," Lara said, wiping off some of the perspiration that had bubbled up on my forehead. I could have done it, with my free hand, but I enjoyed the feel of her hands on me, touching me, anywhere they wanted to touch. She said, "Jack," and her husband raised his head. "I think you can unlock the handcuffs now."

He smiled. "I agree."

While he was getting the key, Lara sat down beside me. She lifted my head, let it rest on her lap. I could smell her aroused pussy and it made me all the more eager to be at her again. But this time I wanted to do it willingly, without restraints, because I wanted to do it. Oh, God, I wanted to!

"Look here," she said, and I looked at the bedpost. There were a lot of scratches in the dark mahogany finish. "You didn't do it," she went on, seeing my look of concern. "Oh, darling, do you think you're the first person who's ever been handcuffed to the bed? Why in the name of God do you think we even keep the things around? To lock up housebreakers and other criminals we meet in our daily rounds and make citizens' arrests?"

My eyes were big. "You mean you…"

"Now and then," she agreed. "It's an amusing diversion. But, Rebecca, it's only a diversion. A game. With understood rules and regulations. You thought you were turning on when people used force on you, but that wasn't it. There's a sensual woman in you, waiting to be released, and I think you've tried to keep her under wraps for too long. When you had a chance, she came out, in a big way. Rebecca, the important thing is the union, the union of two – or more, if you feel like it – bodies in the act of love. If sometimes you make the progression via some clever, 'kink' games and toys, well it just adds a little more spice. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I think so," I said slowly, just as Jack unfastened the cuff from around my wrist. "It's just means to an end."

"Right. Something to add a little spice, like I said. It's called bondage-domination and it's one of the sweeter fantasy games, if you play it according to the rules. You're helpless, totally at the mercy of someone else, and that someone is free to do whatever he or she wishes with you. If only you could have known how I felt, forcing you, riding your body as if you were a horse and I the jockey – oh, God, Rebecca, there's nothing like it! Almost nothing. Except for the sweet give and take of a man and woman, both in full control of their own bodies, rocking together with no restraints of any kind, letting their spirits soar while they plunge, locked, to a blinding orgasm. It's sex, Rebecca, and there's nothing at all like it, anywhere, anyplace! If you really turned on from being a victim, you'd be a pathetic pervert! And you're not! You're a whole woman, and you deserve to know, to feel…"

"Show me," I implored, sitting up. "Show me."

"We'll show you," Jack promised, coming around the foot of the bed and sitting on my other side. His cock was sticking up and I reached for it impulsively. It throbbed in my fist and it was hot and oh, God, so fucking stiff! He moved around quickly as I drew myself into his lap and started to suck his rigid tool.

I didn't know much about cocksucking, but I was learning fast. My head moved up and down swiftly, his cock plunging into my mouth and out again, and I was taking him deeper than I'd ever thought it possible for a woman to suck a man's tool. He was giving off little dribbles of cum. I could taste them, and they were delicious. I wanted him to squirt his sweet seed into my mouth, to pour it out my ears, but I also wanted him to fill my pussy with his juice, and to spray it all over my trembling, throbbing body. I wanted Lara to have her fair share, too. I guess I wanted everything!

Lara went up, kissed her husband's mouth while I ate his rod. "You taste like Becky," I heard her say, and it never even occurred to me to tell her that I didn't like to be called Becky. The way she spoke the name, I liked it very much. I kept on sucking, and then her head was down beside mine, nudging me to the side.

I lifted my mouth from Jack. "Do you want some too?" I asked with a shy giggle. She nodded and smiled, and I moved out of the way. Lara aimed Jack's dick upward and she plunged her mouth down over it, sucking him all the way. Her lips were kissing his balls and pubic hairs. I watched in admiration. "She's good," I told Jack. He nodded proudly. "Do you think I can ever be that good?"

"I think you can learn," he said. "You seem to have the basic talent. C'mere."

I rose up onto my knees and he kissed me, first on my mouth, then on the tits. He sucked my nipples savagely, and I loved it, the sharpness of his teeth biting into me, the sweet consoling licks and laps of his gentle tongue, soothing away the hurt. He sucked harder, pulling the ends of my tits into his mouth; and when he wasn't sucking, biting, or kissing, he had his face between my boobs, squashing the fat, tingly mounds around his head. He enjoyed burying his face between a set of full-sized tits, I thought proudly. I could give him that. Lara could give him a full-throat blowjob, but I could give him the tits.

"Mmmm," I said, pulling back, "what can you give me, big stuff?"

Lara lifted her head. "She had to ask, didn't she?" I heard her say. "Why don't you show her?"

Jack slid off the bed. I sat watching his hard-on, waiting for whatever was going to come next. Lara stretched out on the bed, her little breasts heaving, the nipples a mile long and red as fire. "Lie down here," she said, patting the space beside her. I stretched out too, my legs hanging over the side of the bed. "Lie across me," she said, pulling my leg. I slid the lower part of my body across Lara's, and I looked down. When I spread my legs widely, I could see her reddish pussy hair down there, just below my own dark black fuzz. It was a pretty, two-tone effect.

"This is fun," she added. "Ready when you are."

"Ready, willing, and able," Jack grinned. He spread my legs to their widest, moved in with his cock sticking out, and then he plunged that thing up me, in one fast, stabbing insertion that took him all the way to the mouth of my womb.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh Godddddd!" I yelled, bucking up with my belly as he entered me hard and fast and strong.

He gripped my thighs, worked them up and down as he fucked me, and Lara's belly and hips were twitchy and active under me. I felt cream oozing in my cunt, and each thrust of Jack's dick sent spasms of pleasure rippling through my whole body. I moaned and wailed and tried to wrap my legs around him, but it was no go. I wanted to clutch him in my thighs, and I tried to, but you know, I think the resistance of his hands, holding my legs, commanding them so to speak, was even more delightful. All I really know is that he fucked me like a hurricane, and his cock bit places I hadn't known existed inside Rebecca Lee Butler until he fucked them.

His cock eased out of me. "NO!!" I yelled, unwilling to lose that jackhammer action.

"Yes," Lara said insistently. My face was only inches from hers. She turned my head and began to kiss me on the mouth. Her hands found my breasts, started to play with them actively. I sighed and shivered and my nipples were like burning coals, scorching the ends of my tits. I heard Lara groan into my mouth and I knew that Jack had stuffed his cock up her pussy, that we were to be fucked in tandem, the two of us. Well, I thought, it seems okay.

But when you're as hot as I was, it was an eternity till Jack's stiff prick found its way up my cunt once again. I was parched with the want of him, but as soon as he plunged into me, I found that my pussy was capable of endless rejuicing and flooding. He went deep again, and I moaned into Lara's leech-like mouth. I didn't, know which I enjoyed most – kissing her, being felt by her knowing hands, or being fucked by her husband. Oh, Jesus! His cock seemed, to ram all the way to the bottom of my throat!

He fucked us that way, first her, then me, for what seemed hours. It may have been. I wasn't watching the clock.

Lara burst into a come under me, and it was so captivating to feel her body erupt beneath mine that I almost exploded too. But I didn't. I couldn't. Not till that hard cock had gone up me once again, stimulated me the way it had stimulated Lara.

He fucked into her till her body went limp and quiet, and then it was my turn again. I slid off Lara, moved back on the bed, "Let's do it right," I sighed, "like a man and a woman who really dig being with each other. Do you dig being with me, Jack?"

"You're Goddamned right I do," he husked, his cock red and raw-looking from its heavy workout. He grasped my thighs, stroked them up and down, massaged me till I was heaving and tingling with sexual desire. I reached down, fingered my pussy. I was greasy and slick, and my finger stabbed up my hole with nothing to stop its progress.

"You could be doing that," I said wistfully. "You should be doing that."

"I'm going to be doing that," he said, getting onto the bed. I opened my legs widely, and I flicked my clit to show him it was stiff and ready to be brought to orgasm. The lips of my cunt were coated in juices, mine and some of his. Mostly mine. Thank God he hadn't shot off yet. It was gonna be mine, his cum, and I craved it with every fiber of my being. I reached up for him and said, "Do it now, Jack, don't make me wait! Do it nowwwwwwwww!"

He came down upon me, hard and heavy, reaching down to get his cock into position. I strained upward with my wet, itching pussy, and we locked together. He stuffed his meat into me and my cunt glued shut, tightly, around it.

"Fuck me!" I said. "I don't have to be tied up to be fucked."

"But it can be fun," he pointed out.

"Yes, it can be," I agreed, rocking under him. "But there are other ways."

And I was finding out, fast, about those other ways. His cock was hard as steel inside me, rasping the lips of my cunt as it slammed in and out. His groin came down hard against me and he wiggled his loins when we were touching, letting me feel the jiggle of his heavy set of balls in the crack of my ass. I loved it. God, I loved it all! I wasn't the same Rebecca any longer, not the same Rebecca who'd gotten out of my bed yesterday morning.

Reckardsville! It was a zillion trillion miles away by now; I had nothing back there, nothing at all. My mother was dead, my poor mother, and I wouldn't even be home for her funeral. But I'd already said goodbye, and there was nothing more I could do. Not for her. I had me to look out for now, and I was a new person, a person born in degradation and humiliation but come through it all smelling like a rose.

No, smelling like a wet, horny pussy! The aroma of my juicing cunt flooded the bedroom, filled my nostrils. A hundred years from now, I thought, if this house is still standing in a hundred years, anyone who walks into this bedroom will sniff and say, "Rebecca Lee Butler was fucked here. Fucked till she came like a river, till she came like an earthquake, till she came like a hot, hungry woman who'd finally found herself."

What did I care what happened a hundred years from now? I didn't plan on living forever. When I died, they'd look at me and say, "She lived it all, baby, to the fullest." Just like I was living it now. Jack's cock ramming in and out of my sucking twat, his body rocking atop mine.

And that wasn't all! A hand streaked lightly across my face. Fingers caressed my eyelids, my nostrils, my lips, my ears. It was Lara, recovered from her own orgasm, come to add extra delight to mine. I loved her. Even more, much more, than I loved Jack, than I loved life itself. She'd created me, almost by herself, and I could never repay her for it. Never. But I'd try.

"Are you ready again?" Jack panted.

"Mmmm-hmmmm," Lara purred. Her husband leaned back a little, his cock not letting up a stroke in its exploration of my deranged pussy, and Lara leaned in to me. Her lips came to rest on mine and I kissed her angrily, though I had little enough breath to spare right then, obsessed as I was with the coming explosion in my twat. The tightness in my chest and lower belly predicted that explosion a lot better than they're able to predict the weather.

Lam kissed me, and all the while Jack kept fucking. In, out, in, out – I got a dozen strokes in ten seconds, and the effect was too much. My body lifted, and my legs tied around him in a knot that I hoped would never come loose, and he fucked his way into my churning pussy, fucked till my head reeled and my senses were upside down and my body was a live, throbbing mass of response, response torn from the pit of my being.

Lara's mouth was on mine all through that orgasm, and I don't think I could have endured it without her comfort and assurance so close by. Did that mean I was turning into a lesbian? I didn't think so, not the way I was coming under Jack. But in the future, when I thought about sex and the delights thereof, I wouldn't be thinking entirely in terms of having sex with men. At the right time, and maybe anytime could be the right time, you could do fantastic things with another woman, if both of you felt the same way about each other I didn't know where I'd be tomorrow, but I hoped that I wouldn't be far from somebody like Lara McMinn.

Lara raised her face from mine. "Do you still have it?" she asked breathlessly. "Are you still hard? Have you come yet?"

"Not yet," Jack panted, struggling with the lover's knot of my legs. "But in – another – minute…"

"Up here," Lara said, as I thrashed and churned. "Up here. Let me taste it. Let Becky taste it. Hurry!"

She slid her hand across my thighs and they parted, allowing Jack to break loose. He came up fast, straddling my exultant body. My eyes were mostly out of focus, but I couldn't very easily miss the presence of his sweet big cock inches above my head. I jerked my face up, tongue already out, desiring, hungry.

Lara got him first. She plummeted her mouth down over his straining rod and I heard the gulping, greedy noises of her lips at work.

"Let me," I moaned, "oh, God, Jesus, let meeeee!"

She unmouthed him, turned his cock downward. I lunged up, caught him in my lips, nibbled him up and down like an ear of corn. My mouth fitted over the end of him and I took him deep, oh, God, so deep! I don't know how I kept from choking on his thick, throbbing rod, but I didn't choke, I didn't gag, I didn't cough and sputter. I sucked, like a pro, like an angel, like a wet dream. I knew I was doing a good job. My mind and my body told me, and so did the strokes of Jack's hands on my bobbing head.

"Both at once," I heard Lara say, and I slid back a little. Jack's cock eased out of my mouth, and I could see more clearly now. He was red, covered in wet shiny juices, and I realized that when I had him in my mouth I was tasting my own pussy flavors on his length. Oh, God, no wonder I loved it so much!

Lam started licking one side of her husband's rod and my tongue got busy on the other side. Occasionally our lips met at his red, swollen knobby peak, and that was sweet too. My tongue dove into her mouth and she sucked it the way she'd sucked Jack's big cock, and I did the same for her. But our first duty was to the penis that had brought us such soul-stirring pleasure, in our turns, and we soon got busy on Jack's dick, forgetting for the moment our craving for one another.

But only for the moment. I wanted to do it with her again, to eat and be eaten, and this time without those damned silly handcuffs and leg bands. Stiff – they were fun, if you knew how to appreciate them, and I didn't think I'd eliminate them completely from my future sex life. Could be fun, I reminded myself. Could be a lot of fun.

But not now. Now I wanted only to steep myself in the joys of free, willing, unrestrained sex, the best kind of all. Time enough to try the kinks again when I'd gotten my fill of this – if I ever got my fill. God, I didn't think that was possible! I had a whole life ahead of me. And I'd use it. Oh, Jesus, I would use it, the why it was meant to be used! This was only a beginning, me and Lara and Jack. There would be more, so much much more in the future, and I could hardly wait to sample it.

"Here it comes!" Lara shouted exuberantly, and she aimed Jack's cock down, down at my face. My eyes bugged out in anticipation, and then it was coming – he was coming, his thick, hot, sticky sperm gushing all over my face! Pints and pints of it, spurting from the end of his cock and spraying into my face! I closed my eyes and basked in the hot thick flow, turning my face this way and that so he could drench me in his love gift, so I could soak it into my pores, absorb it into the very pit of my soul!

I didn't really have a chance. Lara's face was close to mine. I had my eyes closed, and I couldn't really see, but I think she received a few bunts of his ejaculation in her own face. I hope so, because she deserved all the nice things in life, if only for the assistance and comfort she'd given me when I needed it so badly.

Anyway, I felt her tongue start to glide across my skin. She was licking up Jack's cum, drinking it from my face. Her cheeks puffed as she stored the jism in them, and then her mouth clamped down on mine and she spilled it all, back into my mouth, and I drank Jack McMinn's jism, if only second – hand.

It was tasty and tangy, and my body thrilled with delight as the gooey cum oozed down my throat. Once, I thought, I'd been afraid of getting this stuff in my mouth. Not now, I told myself. Oh, God, not now! It's delicious! Absofuckinglutely delicious! Why was I frightened of it? Why did I hesitate? Why didn't I start eating cock when I was ten years old, instead of waiting? Oh, hell, I'd make up for the lost time! This was only the beginning of my life, the life that really counted. I gulped, sucking down a big juicy lump of cum, and Lara's lips went soft and relaxed against mine.

Jack's cock had stopped creaming, and my body was slowing down from its mad orgasmic rush.

We lay in a pile of bodies, our, legs and hands touching, but not active. Not yet. You had to rest sometime, especially after a three-way come like that one. I hoped that you didn't have to rest too long, though. The longing was starting to build in my crotch and I could feel my nipples beginning to tense and stiffen with desire once again.

"Ah, Jesus," Lara sighed, stretching. "Why can't it be like this all the time? Why?" She sat up suddenly. "Why can't it? Not forever, maybe, but for a while at least?"

"Mmm?" I asked sleepily, touching my tits.

"Sure," Jack said. "There's no use breaking up a winning combination, which this definitely is."

"Absolutely," Lara agreed. "Rebecca, if I understand things correctly, your mother is dead and you don't have any living relatives except your stepfather?" I nodded. "Well, my God," she went on, "it seems the easiest thing in the world, then. Jack – first thing in the morning, why don't you get on the telephone and call the attorney for Athens County, Ohio, and tell him that we have Rebecca Lee Butler and we'd like to keep her for a while."

"Athens County, Ohio?" Jack mused. "Wait a minute. Isn't Tom Dunham the county prosecutor there?" I nodded. I thought that was the right name. "Well, hell, he and I were in law school at Indiana together! If you'd told me where you were from, I'd have called him already. Tell me, Rebecca," he went on, turning to me, "would you be interested in staying with us till you were eighteen or so? I am almost positive I could get us appointed guardians for you, given the situation in your home."

"What would I have to do?" I asked, giggling a little.

"Well, it wouldn't be a bed of roses," Lara McMinn said firmly. "You'd have to help me with the housework, which is the one thing I absolutely hate to do. And you'd have to make salads."

"I don't do windows," I put in.

Lara smiled. "Neither do I," she grinned. "Well! It looks as if we may have ourselves an adopted daughter, John Anthony McMinn. What do you think of that?"

"Sounds very pleasant," he said, looking at me with unconcealed lust in his eyes.

"Mmmmmmm," I demurred, "I think we're getting very close to incest, aren't we?"

"Not nearly close enough," Lara and Jack both said at the same time. They piled onto me at once, the two of them, and Jack was starting to stiffen. I could smell the pleasant fragrance of Lara's juicing twat and as I broke up into giggles and squeals under them, I found myself eagerly anticipating the days and weeks ahead. Maybe, I thought, maybe we'd even get the handcuffs out again. The handcuffs and that cunty leather thong Lara had tied around my ankle. I didn't need the things now, but she was right. They did add a little spice to sexual matters.

I could dig being tied up and made forcible love to, if it was done by people as kinky/nice as Jack and Lara, and if I was as willing to have it done to me as they were to do it. What the hell? Now that I knew who I was, what I was, I could take it. And love it. Like I loved everything else.

Mmmmm, I'd left home late last night, a scared and frightened runaway teenage girl. And today I was a woman, sure of herself, about two breaths from entering onto my first mature, defined relationship. I like happy endings, and I was pretty satisfied with this one.

Content

Ron Taylor
Stepdaughter in bondage

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN