Mom in a harness

CHAPTER FOUR

Arlette thought she was going to hit the floor! That man! That same man, the one who had been fucking and hitting and roping her mother last night, was standing right there in the doorway, toolbox in hand. She stared stupidly at him, tempted to slam the door in his face and rush back into the kitchen.

"Can I come in? I've got some jobs to do here, girlie," Jack said dryly, his eyes taking in the girl's lithe body.

Arlette blushed furiously, knowing exactly what must be going on in Jack's mind. She stepped back, still searching for her voice, half expecting him to take her roughly in his arms and rape her there on the spot.

"Mother's inside," Arlette said in a choked voice, turning and walking stiffly back into the kitchen. Monica peered out around the doorway and smiled a little uneasily at Jack. Arlette saw her embarrassment and thought she would faint. She wolfed down the bacon, watching Jack and her mother as Monica poured out some coffee and handed it to the stud.

"Gotta take care of some of the tiles in the garden," Jack muttered, the cup to his lips, his eyes drifting from Arlette to Monica, then back to the frightened teen once more.

"Of course," Monica murmured, noticing Jack's attention, and feeling a slight twinge of jealousy mixed with fear. No, she couldn't let her daughter know about this, couldn't even let her suspect what had happened last night and what would possibly happen in the future. Her fingers trembling and cold, Monica steadied her coffee cup, feeling her asscheeks resting against the sink counter and wishing with all her heart that Arlette would go somewhere and leave her and Jack alone.

"I… think I'll go outside and get some sun or something," Arlette muttered, putting down her glass of milk and wiping the white mustache from her upper lip.

Jack muttered, finishing his coffee, his eyes following the teenager as she rose from the table, then trotted from the kitchen.

"Nice little filly you got there," Jack muttered, putting down the cup and pushing himself away from the table. Folding his hands behind his head, he tipped back on the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He looked so certain of himself, so damned cocksure of the woman shivering with excitement in front of him.

"She's not for you," Monica said, her voice unsteady.

"Oh? We'll see. Anyway, you think about what I said last night? You wanna go further? You wanna be my mare, baby? You wanna feel how it's like to do the whole bondage scene?"

Jack's black eyes glittered with amusement and lust all at once, and his feet shuffled under the table. Monica knew that she was on the brink of something that could be rewarding, as well as terrifying. She had heard about some of the S amp;M scenes. Stories of girls who had been kidnapped and tortured by their rapists somehow appealed to a dark force stirring in her. Jack had mentioned all sorts of leather harnesses and certain acts that made her flesh ripple with goosebumps.

"I don't know," the woman confessed haltingly, putting the coffee cup and saucer down with a clatter. The sound of the front door slamming shut nearly made her jump fromher skin.

"Sounds like the kid's gone. That leaves us alone… for a while. Bet she don't come back 'til lunch," Jack said, his voice dropping a tone. He was sitting back against the table now, his hands folded in front of him, his forehead wrinkled, one shock of hair hanging over his right eye. Monica felt her heart pounding, beating hard against her ribcage. What she was thinking was awful, almost unbelievable? How she hated one part of herself for giving into that stirring, dark force, making her palms so sweaty with excitement. To think she was considering letting Jack touch her like that, to do things to her when Arlette could come bouncing in at any second and discover them. And then it occurred to her that the possibility of her daughter discovering them added a pepper to her arousal. Shame, fear of discovery, a desire for punishment, a desire for prick – everything was mixing together in a heady brew as she stood there against the sink studying the big stud.

"All right," she whispered, hardly able to get the word out.

"It's in my toolbox," Jack said, kicking the large, gray-metal container from under the table.

"Oh?" Monica answered with interest, studying the large container. Her eyebrows raised, and she felt her pulse race a little more. It was nearly three feet in length, one foot wide, one foot high, with two metal holders on either side. It was the sort of thing handymen carried with them all the time. Apparently, what was inside was far from what a repairman would normally tote about.

"Let's go downstairs. Less chance of her findin' us down there, in case she does come back early," Jack said, pushing back from the table and standing straight.

Monica felt herself drawn to this man, this animal who was bent on mastering her. There was time, still time for her to run from him. But something made her turn and move to the kitchen door, open it and begin descending to the basement. She gripped the rotting handrail, hearing Jack's boot-heavy tread behind her. There were all the familiar appliances around her – the washer, the dryer, the waterheater, the double sink for rinsing out clothes. There were all the things she had used so mundanely before. But now it was all changed by this stranger who had touched some forbidden chord in her soul only a few days ago.

"Oh!" she gasped.

Jack had dropped the toolbox with a heavy clatter on the concrete floor.

"Strip!"

The command was simple, direct. There was almost a military edge to it as Jack pulled off his dirty, white cotton t-shirt, exposing the hairy expanse of his developed chest. Monica shivered a shudder of lust as she reached back with numbing fingers to unhook her halter. She felt the broad straps loosen around her shoulders immediately, the garment falling over her tits, then slipping to the floor. She could feel Jack's eyes burning her flesh as her fingers hooked around the waistband of her shorts and pushed down. Something like this was going to happen today. She had not known that, suspected it strongly, anyway. That's why she had worn no panties. The woman felt the sexy rub of the soft cotton against her thighs, felt her cuntlips swelling as she stepped from her shorts and finally stood there near the rinse basin, completely naked. Jack was bending down, having already opened the heavy top of the toolbox. Monica watched with growing curiosity as he fished around, finally pulling out what appeared to be several long pieces of black leather strips haphazardly fastened together at various points by rusty studs.

"Turn around."

Again, the military command tone; again, the immediate obedience. Somewhere in the distance, she heard several dogs barking. The sounds of children playing filtered in through the dirty, small windows at ground level. No one would peer in, see what was happening in this modest, two-story, wood-frame home. "Around your shoulders."

Two straps fell across her shoulders, the remainder of the harness-like device falling forward. A metal ring lay flat just between her jutting tits to which the two straps over her shoulders were attached. A longer third strip hung down toward her cunt from the ring.

"Now, gonna jockey this mother around to make it right. You're gonna be a good horse, baby, a real good horsie!"

His cutting words excited her imagination more, made her pussy cream and her clit pop up, red and stiff, from the surrounding moist flesh. It was such a strange device. Two more straps were attached laterally just below the top ring. These Jack fastened quickly like belts around her chest and hipbone, snugging them so tightly that her white flesh bunched up under the leather.

"Now for these. You're gonna dig havin' this bitin' into your pussy," Jack whispered, his fingers brushing over her cunt as they searched for two narrow strips of leather buckled at the end which dangled from the bottom belt gripping her hipbones. Jack took each strip, tucking it between her legs, making sure it was just on the edge of her drooling pussy groove. Monica threw her head back at the cool, comforting touch of the slick leather. Such a feeling of delight, of hot pleasure coursing through her bound body! The big stud tightened the crotch strips, pulling them around between her legs, then attaching the buckles to two positions on the rear of the lower belt. She was harnessed completely, her body encased in the soft, pliant leather.

"On your fuckin' knees, bitch!"

Jack put both hands on her shoulders, forcing Monica down to the floor. She complied, feeling the leather tensing around her shoulders and hips as she sank down into a doggie position. Her hands were stretched in front of her, her head hung down, her long blonde hair touching the floor and sweeping over her whitened knuckles. Jack smoothed his hands over her asscheeks, tugging on the leather, watching the woman wince at the increased pressure.

"Oh!" Monica choked.

He had slapped her hard with the back of his hand, long red stripes appearing on her right asscheek from the sudden, sharp smack.

"Get your hands back here," he said, lightly kicking the bottom strap around her hipbones with the tip of his boot.

Monica didn't want to anger her so-called master. Quickly sliding her arms back, she pressed her elbows against her sides while drawing her wrists together at the base of her spine. She crouched there like that as Jack moved back to his opened toolbox and pulled out a set of fleece-lined leather wristcuffs. Opening them all the way, he slipped one around each wrist, buckling them tightly, then hooking them together with a small set of rings attached to the small leather restraints. Next he fastened the linked cuffs to a small iron clamp in the rear center of the lower belt, thus preventing the woman from moving her arms as he had done the night before.

"Oh, God, God! This is… is hideous," she whimpered, tugging at her wrists, feeling a flash of moral guilt at what was happening to her.

"Right, and you dig every second of it, bitch. That's what you are," Jack said, pulling out what appeared to be a black latex tube with two small straps attached to either end. The big stud took the tube and jammed it deep into Monica's mouth, scraping it over her teeth and pulling back until it was pressing hard and painfully against the junction of her lips. Her jawbones arched as he drew the straps around her head, fastening them firmly together. It was now impossible for her to speak as she knelt there in that awkward position, the leather harness rubbing wonderfully and painfully against her flesh.

"Leather bitch," Jack muttered, moving around and smacking her naked ass hard with his hand.

"Mmmfmmfmffff!"

Monica let out a muffled cry, her eyes wide, her hair sweeping over the floor as his fingers burned into her bare assflesh. A burning tingle teased at her clit, and more pussy cream seeped from her fuckhole, wetting down the crotch straps.

"Bitch! Stupid, shit-bitch, I know your type," Jack hissed through his clenched teeth, striking his hand against her plump asscheeks twice, his fingertips leaving small, red marks where they bit into her white, jiggling flesh. "Trot that bitchin' ass around, then keep that pussy to yourself. That's what your old man used to say – you teased the shit outta him before you finally put out! Man, he should see you now," Jack said, snorting out a degrading laugh. Monica gasped through the gag when she felt him sticking one finger up her asshole, jamming it in to the second joint. "You can't get that butt up high enough for me," he added, pulling out his finger, wiping it against his Levi's, then raising one foot again and pressing the filthy sole against her ass.

"Ohfhfhfffff!"

He straightened his leg quickly, forcing the terrified woman forward, her forehead striking the floor. Monica cried out in pain and fear, losing her balance and toppling onto her right side.

"In the dirt, baby, that's where you belong, crawlin' around in the fuckin' dirt."

Jack was getting excited, his voice trembling more and more with each passing second as he looked down at the helpless, leather-bound, gagged blonde. Moving his foot up, he ground down on her spine, making Monica gasp through the gag and work her fingers against the restraining cuffs. She tried crawling forward, her nose scraping against the concrete, her tits pillowing out under her body, and her knees pressed down against the floor. The leather straps were cutting into her flesh even more, now that she was prone. And how those strips felt, cutting into her pussylips! How it felt when one of them slipped up on her juiceslicked flesh and rubbed over her clit!

"Huhhhhrrrrr!"

"Buy it, bitch, go on and buy it," he growled, pressing the toe of his boot down against the base of her spine, nearly cracking the small bones with the pressure. Monica thought she would surely break, perhaps be paralyzed for life when his foot snapped through her back. Then slowly, gradually, Jack moved his booted foot up, scraping the filthy toe up over the bumps of her discs until he was pressing down on her neck. Monica let out another cry, chomping down hard on the resilient latex gag. Spittle frothed from the corners of her forced-open mouth. His mare, his slave. Yes, Jack had made it apparent what he liked, what he wanted from a woman. And it was becoming clearer and clearer to Monica just what she wanted – a man like him, a master to her perverse passions.

"Ain't nothin' that you won't do. So crawl, baby, come on, crawl on the floor! Show me what kinda proud bitch you are now," Jack muttered, kicking Monica lightly on the back of her head.

Grunting, every joint in her body aching from the leather restraints, the woman wrestled to her original kneeling position, adjusting her arms behind her to ease the pulling pressure from the wristcuffs attached to the waiststrap. Jack was shoving his boot against her ass again, threatening to knock her back down onto the floor if she didn't move quickly. Shaking the hair from her eyes, Monica began – one knee forward, then the other, then the first, her kneecaps cracking from her bound position.

"Uhhhhh…" Monica moved.

She was a horse, his horse. And now Jack was straddling her, one leg on either side of her ribcage, his thighs pressing against her. There was the rubbing sound of leather against cloth. His belt. God, he was taking off his belt. Monica knew what he was going to do. Twisting her head around, she saw him looping the thing, swinging the makeshift whip over his head.

"Come on, baby, come on, move it!" There was the whistling sound of the leather hissing through the air. And then came the heated smack, the crack of the belt against her moaned as she ass. "Uhhhhhh!"

Monica jerked forward, her body shuddering under the brutal attack. Again and again, the belt sliced through the dark shadows of the cellar, smacking against Monica's asscheeks, reddening her flesh until it glowed, while more juices frothed from her cuntslit and wet down the leather restraints. Monica grunted like an injured animal, crawling one knee forward at a time, her head bent low in defeat, her jutting shoulderblades pressing against the horrid restraints as Jack followed her, his knees even with her shoulders.

"Come on, baby, gimme a good ride… come on, move it faster."

The belt swung over his head once more, crashing down this time on her side. Monica let out a loud hiss of air, nearly blacking out from the surprise injury. Her flesh felt singed by the fires of hell as that belt slammed first on her asscheeks, then against her ribcage! "Uhhhhhh…" she growled in pain. "Ohhhhh, yeahhhh!"

Jack was rubbing his crotch against her back, reaching down with his free hand to pull open his zipper while still beating her ass regularly with the looped belt.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!"

Monica cried out with grunts each time the belt chewed into her flesh. Tears of pain and humiliation welled up in her eyes, rolling over onto her burning, flushed cheeks as she kept crawling. The woman could go no farther! Her strength seemed drained by all the blows. With a sigh of defeat, Monica stopped her crawling as she neared the rinsing sink, her muscles growing relax.

"Too much, eh, baby? Maybe you need something that's gonna spruce you up." Jack slipped off of the crumpled woman, pulling down his jeans, then stepping out of them. Peering through the hair covering her eyes, Monica saw that prick, that cock she had become a slave to. God, it was so long, so very long and thick. Her cunt spasmed as she studied it. Yes, that wonderful fuckshaft had pumped out her hole last night. And was she ready to be mastered by that thing again!

"Want my prick in you, huh, baby? Can you feel it slippin' in, already, shoving down into your gut? Good, 'cause that's just what's gonna happen to you… only not the way you think."

Monica shivered. She could only guess what Jack had in mind.