Mom in a harness

CHAPTER SIX

Three days had passed since Monica's ordeal in the cellar. Arlette hadn't returned from the outdoors until later that afternoon, more than enough time for Monica to wash and try to compose herself. As she sat there in the livingroom, her back stiff, fingers clutching at the wide armrest, the woman tried to think why on earth she was turning into a… a perverted slut! That was the only word for her behavior! Occasionally sleeping around, even promiscuity could be explained, was even partially acceptable in her mind. But this? No, nothing in her upbringing could explain why she enjoyed this kind of humiliation and degradation. Her life was turning upside down, and Monica had no explanation for it. All she knew was that Arlette had to be kept free from it! She wouldn't allow her daughter to be dragged down into the sane sewer in which she wallowed with Jack. And he had said something about Arlette, had told Monica he was interested in her daughter!

Monica groaned, placing one hand over her stomach as she gazed into the big fireplace across the way. It had been so difficult raising Arlette after her husband had run away. Thank God for the stocks and property her mother had left her, giving Monica the freedom to raise her daughter without drudging out a nine-to-five living. And now it would all go to waste, all become ruined if Jack were to put his filthy hands on her daughter. Just the thought of it, the idea of Arlette suffering one tenth of what she had had to endure made Monica tremble with rage and terror.

All these fears, however, remained unspoken when Arlette came in the door, smiling rather wanly at her mother. She looked so innocent, so fresh standing there in the foyer, her blonde hair fanned back over her narrow shoulders. The attractive appearance of her daughter nearly took Monica's breath away as she stood there admiring the girl. Yes, Arlette was a young, beautiful girl, hovering on the edge of womanhod, but still retaining that delightful aura of innocence. Why did she have to grow up, to face the same problems Monica felt herself facing? How she wanted to enfold her daughter in her arms and tell her everything, begging her forgiveness. Instead, she spoke stiffly about menial things, her heart breaking as she watched Arlette climb the stairs to her private room.

Three long days passed. On the fourth, Monica was in the livingroom, her mind focused on one thing only. Cock! How awful that she, a college-educated young woman, could now only think of prickmeat, of that long, thick cock that hung from Jack's crotch. He hadn't been around for the past few days, and that absence was making Monica very, very nervous. She was a mature woman, wasn't she? She could control her emotions. But more and more, Monica found herself fixing drinks, swallowing the burning liquor to quiet the rioting emotions in her body. Now, standing there alone in the livingroom with the darkening shadows of evening drawing across her legs, Monica thought of Jack and trembled, the ice cubes rattling merrily against the glass. It was awful, terrible. The feeling of her cuntlips swelling over the swollen nub of her clit took her breath away. She shivered, closing her eyes, trying to push that feeling away. But it just wouldn't disappear. Even just standing there, Monica felt shamefully close to a climax.

Damn!

She took another swallow, then guiltily put the glass down as she heard Arlette come in through the back door into the kitchen.

"It's a beautiful sunset, mother," the girl said, pushing her fingers through her hair. Monica said nothing, stepping in front of the glass, afraid her daughter would think she was turning into an alcoholic if she saw the vodka tonic. Monica had seen her daughter's disapproval several days ago when she downed two glasses of red wine for dinner. And people talked about how immoral the younger generation was!

"Oh, yes, very lovely," Monica gasped, wondering if now was the time to find out about her daughter, about how she felt about… certain things. Arlette walked past, bending down to flick on a table lamp, then throwing herself rather carelessly onto the wide sofa. Picking up a magazine, the girl thumbed through it slowly, tucking her long legs under her ass. With the short skirt she wore, Arlette was exposing her asscheeks in that position. Monica eyed the girl with disapproval, wondering if she should say something about her daughter's dress.

"Something wrong, Mother?" the girl asked, noticing Monica's stare.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. It's just that… I hope you weren't wandering around in that outfit. It's very revealing, Arlette."

The girl frowned, closing the magazine, then laying it on the table. They had had this kind of discussion before with poor results.

"Mother, I'm capable of taking care of myself. Besides, some of the girls at school would call this modest," Arlette retorted, affecting a bored expression. Then her face cleared. "Where's Jack, that handyman? I haven't see him around here for the past few days. Is he through?"

Monica felt a shudder ripple through her body. It was some time before she could compose herself and answer Arlette's question. Was her daughter studying her? It felt as if those clear blue eyes had suddenly become sharp, inquisitive. That was silly. What on earth could Arlette possibly suspect?

"No. He's been… ill, I believe. I'm sure he'll be back. I… I haven't heard from him, though." Her words came out haltingly, strained. Monica saw her daughter's forehead wrinkle, and she felt her breath coming in shorter and shorter pants. Dear God, she had to get away from here, or she would surely give herself away.

"Oh," Arlette commented softly, sighing, then reaching forward for the magazine. Monica collected herself, feeling another craving for a drink, yet afraid to fix one in front of her daughter. The mall down the way. Yes, she would drive to the mall, do some late afternoon shopping, then perhaps stop in for a cocktail to steady her nerves at a respectable restaurant. Surely not to look for a man. Oh no, not that! Just a drink, something that would cool down the aching, pulsing itch that was driving her out of her mind.

Arlette shrugged at her mother's sudden announcement, saying she would fix something for both of them for a late dinner. In a way, she was glad for the absence. Something had happened the afternoon she had left her mother, she was sure of it. The way Monica acted, Arlette was certain that Jack had been there once more, fucking her mother. As the front door slammed, the girl stretched her legs over the coffee table, staring at their fullfleshed whiteness, wondering if Jack would enjoy taking her to bed! Yes, she was certain he would. He was a horny man, a big man, a man who enjoyed beautiful, vulnerable things, exactly what Arlette felt she was. "Oooohhhhhhh…"

Closing her eyes, the girl lightly traced her fingernails up and down her bare thighs. Just that light touch sent shivers of delight racing straight for her clit! Arlette tensed her thigh and ass muscles, rubbing her heels over the coffee table. Yes, just the thought of that big man bent over her mother, whipping the blonde with his belt while driving his cock into her cunt made Arlette whimper through her nostrils with excitement.

"Ohhhh… Jack," the teenager sighed. She could see the ropes now, could see the pantyhose cutting her mother's flesh while he drilled her pussy, his fat, high-riding balls slapping noisily against her asscheeks. How Monica had twisted and moaned, squealing with unspeakable delight with each forward driving, clit-splintering move of his prick. There was the sound of her mother's car backing from the drive, then squealing forward on the street heading toward Santa Monica Boulevard. Was she really going to the Galieria Shopping Mall, or was she heading for a secret rendezvous with Jack?

"Damn!"

Arlette curled her fingers into two tight fists, pressing them against her thighs. She felt left out, abandoned by those two. She was a mature woman… or nearly so. Why didn't Jack come on to her? Why didn't he take her in his arms, throw her to the bed and… and… do things to her.

"Oh!" she gasped.

Arlette flushed beet red, pulling her legs from the coffee table and bolting upright. What could she be thinking of? She was a good girl, a decent girl. Those kinds of thoughts would surely get her into a sort of trouble from which she would never escape! What her mother did was one thing. But she had a chance, a chance not to slip into that filthy hole that…

The phone! Standing up, Arlette walked to the hall, wondering if her mother had suddenly had a flat or something, and needed help. Once the receiver was against her ear, however, Arlette knew it wasn't Monica at the other end of the line.

"I'm comin' over to fix the drain in the back garden," Jack said before Arlette even had a chance to speak. She found her voice, clearing her throat. How her fingers grew cold and numb around the receiver!

"My… my mother isn't here right now. Maybe you could come over a little later… or tomorrow," she said, surprised at how low her voice had become.

There was a long pause, broken only by the steady, heavy breathing of the stud. Arlette felt that awful rushing tingle between her legs, that concentrated mushy heat in her furry pussy while her cunt walls trembled under the rising excitement.

"I'm comin' over anyway. They're talkin' about rain tomorrow. The place'll flood unless the drain's fixed. See you in a bit."

A clattering sound was followed by the dial tone. Arlette stood there transfixed by her own private horror, still holding the phone in one hand. No, she couldn't be alone in the same house with Jack. She couldn't trust him, couldn't trust herself. What would happen if something did go on between them, then her mother walked in and found them.

Arlette's mind whirled around like a merry-go-round. Finally placing the receiver back in the cradle, she simply stood there. Arlette couldn't have been more terrified. She wanted to rush outside, leaving the door open for Jack while she searched for her mother. Instead, Arlette stood there, then slowly walked into the livingroom and waited for Jack.

He came in ten minutes, his now-familiar heavy tread growing louder outside the door. The bell rang, the jangling sound making the girl nearly jump out of her skin. She hesitated, then opened the door.

"My mother's…"

"Yeah, kid, I know. Just let me do my work," Jack said gruffly, stepping past her with a quick, but steady, hot look.

Arlette closed the door, putting one hand to her chest and breathing with some difficulty. She watched as Jack disappeared through the kitchen doorway. There was the sound of the back door opening. And then she could hear the sounds of work in the rear patio. Arlette sighed with relief and disappointment. Jack paid little, if any, attention to her. Monica was the only thing he was interested in. Pouting, Arlette shuffled her sandaled feet over the thick piling, her hands clasped loosely behind her. All her wild fantasies fell apart in that one moment. Was she attractive? Would Jack notice her? As dangerous as it was, Arlette felt she had to know. Prudence told her to remain in the house until her mother came home. Something else told her to stop outside and do what she could to arouse that dangerous young man.

If I were a man, I'd go after me, Arlette thought to herself, glancing at her reflection in the big hall mirror as she walked briskly from the livingroom into the kitchen. The sounds of his working grew louder. Pausing in the kitchen only for a moment to gather what little courage she had, Arlette stepped outside, spotting the bent-over shape of Jack near the border of the garden. He was tearing up some tiles, his t-shirt soaked with perspiration. Arlette held her breath. She could hardly swallow, and her heart felt heavy as it pounded against her chest. Jack stopped his work in a moment, aware suddenly that someone else was in the patio area. He turned around, staring up at her with those hooded, sexy black eyes. Arlette turned to butter.

"I thought, since you were working so hard, you might want a lemonade or… or something."

Her voice trailed off to a whisper. Arlette could hardly believe the hunger she felt. It was like a small, wild animal gnawing away at her insides. She wanted Jack to grab her, hold her the way she had seen him hold her mother. She wanted him to overwhelm her, smother her with his body while ropes… oh, it was too much for her to think about right now.

"That's okay, kid. Arlette, ain't it? That's your name, I mean," Jack said, brushing off his hands on his Levi's and standing up.

He was so tall, nearly blocking out the sky in front of her! He seemed easy, relaxed as he smiled at her.

"Y-yes."

Jack rubbed his nose, that same dirty smirk on his face she had seen several nights before. Had she started something she couldn't finish?

"That's good… knowin' your name, I mean. Don't like to start these things without knowin' a broad's name."

Arlette felt the ground moving under her. She closed her eyes, her heart stopping. No, it was starting again. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. She could run, rush out into the streets and wait until her mother returned. But instead, she stayed as Jack brushed off his pants, then approached her.

"I…"

"You don't have to say nothin', kid. You want it… like your old lady does. All in the Goddamned family," he muttered, circling one hand around her small neck. Arlette pushed back against the feeling. She was shameless, as shameless as her mother!

"Please, I don't want to…"

It was a lie. It was all a lie. Yes, she wanted to experience what her mother had, to have the feeling of being roped and raped. Her virginity, her innocence, her reputation – nothing mattered to her now as Jack caressed the nape of her neck, then drew her closer. In a moment, she felt his lips touching hers, soon crushing her lips back against her teeth while his tongue wiggled down deep into her mouth. Never had she been kissed like that! The world exploded and spun around in a kaleidoscope of bright colors as Jack hunched his crotch against her.

"Baby… you're a hot little thing… and I'll bet you ain't been tapped yet."

"What?"

"You still got your cherry," Jack explained, rubbing her ass with both hands, gathering up the soft material of her dress until the girl could feel his fingertips rubbing over her asscheeks. She felt the hot bulge of his cock pressing out against the front of his jeans and let out a little gasp of delight. It was going to happen, and happen with him.

"Come on. I'll leave my stuff here. I live a couple of miles down the way. Don't want to do nothin' here 'less your old lady comes in and finds us," Jack said, breathing hotly into her ear.

It was wrong, terribly wrong! She was giving into this man, going away with him. But excitement scorched her veins, making her throw prudence to the winds. She was panting like a bitch dog as his hands moved up and down her body. Nothing mattered at all. She didn't care. Sucking in a deep breath of air, Arlette followed the big man, Jack guiding her with his hand loosely on her neck. They walked around the house to a van parked in front of the house. She slipped into the passenger's seat, feeling her hot little cunt pressing against the cool vinyl, the juices dampening the narrow nylon crotch panel of her briefs.

"Gonna make it quick, baby. You got me real hot," Jack said, touching her bare thigh for a moment, then turning on the engine. The subtle rumbling of the engine stimulated her pussy even more as they threaded their way quickly through the dimly illuminated streets of West Hollywood. Arlette didn't pay any attention to where they were going. She stared straight ahead, unable to believe she had taken this tremendous step. Going out with this strange man, her mother's lover! And yet why was she smiling there in the dark as Jack guided his car to a stop in front of a small, onestory house on Romaine Avenue?

"Okay, out."

Everything for the next few moments was a blur. Arlette was so excited that she could hardly breathe normally. She was walking up a path, standing before a door, then finding herself inside the house. Jack was telling her to move forward, one hand pushing between her shoulderblades. There was the smell of stale tobacco in the house as she walked past a darkened kitchen, a bathroom, and finally into a back bedroom. The shutting of the door behind her brought the girl around.

"Oh!" she gasped.

Rings hung on the wall to either side of the small headboard. An image of her mother, her arms stretched over her head while Jack hunched over her, flashed through Arlette's mind with an accompanying fear. Somehow the stud seemed bigger than before. When he approached her, Arlette felt suddenly terrible vulnerable and terribly afraid. She flinched back, shrinking against one wall and half turning around, raising her right shoulder protectively up against her chin.

"Little girl find herself biting off more than she can chew, huh?" Jack said, guessing her thoughts. "Maybe so. But we're gonna find out about that now."

Arlette watched with big eyes as Jack slowly began unbuttoning his Levi's. Perhaps, she thought hazily, this wasn't such a very good idea after all.