Mom in a harness

CHAPTER NINE

Two more days had passed since Arlette had lost her cherry in that brutal fucking spree. On the third day, a Santa Ana desert wind blew through Los Angeles, clearing the hazy air and raising temperatures into the hundreds. Arlette sat in her bedroom, watching the tall eucalyptus trees near the house bending and swaying in the steady breeze. At times, the windowpanes rattled from the blasts as leaves and twigs scattered through the area like straw. School would start in one week. She would be going back to Hollywood High, going to classes, smiling at her friends and trying to explain why she hadn't been around for the past two weeks. All the phone calls that were unanswered or unreturned, all her friends who came by to find her "ill" or uninterested in talking – yes, she would have to come up with some sort of explanation.

Arlette smiled, drawing one finger over her pouting lips while she rubbed her thighs together, feeling that tingly, itchy electricity rippling over her cunt once more. What would they say if she were to tell them the truth. She was fucked, fucked good and hard. More. Not only did her mother's lover seduce and fuck her, but he had beaten her and tied her up.

And even more than that! She had loved it! Yes, she had enjoyed having those ropes and restraints cutting into her flesh as the riding crop smacked her again and again! She had cried tears, but tears of pleasure as well as those of pain. What would her friends say then? What would all those so-called fast girls think of her? Surely, they had never crossed the lines she had!

"Ooooohhh…" she sighed.

Arlette turned from the window, her hands in her lap, rubbing over her sensitized thigh flesh. She was wearing her shorts and halter, rubbing her bare feet over the bedroom rug. It had been two whole days since Jack had seen her, touched her. He had come over once or twice, but Monica had been there, and there was no communication between them. Had he tired of her? Did her mother offer more to him than she did? Arlette sighed, kicking her toes against the side of her bed, screwing her eyes up and wondering about that. What did her mother have that she didn't?

"Oh, this is so wrong!"

Arlette bit her pouty lip. Standing up, she started to walk to the door. Maybe a glass of warm milk would settle her confused young mind. Stopping by the doorway, she turned and caught her reflection in the long glass mirror fastened nearby the bathroom doorway.

Yes, she was attractive, damned attractive. Turning sideways, the girl ran her hands up and down her naked belly, feeling the tiny hairs tickling over her fingers. She sucked in her stomach until her ribcage was showing a little more. Yes, she understood why Jack had wanted to squeeze between her thighs. And now a chilly fire raged between her thighs, a fire only Jack, she felt, could put out.

But Jack wasn't around. Her fingers slipped off the doorknob, and they slid around her shorts, pulling them down, then sliding her halter off. Yes, she was attractive. Arlette stepped from her shorts, twisting first to the right, then to the left, admiring her cunt bush, her firm, red-tipped tits, her boyish hips. She felt something between want and shame.

"Oh, it's so good… so very good," she whispered, her fingers sliding down to her cunt thicket. Arlette felt dizzy, felt her body rocking from side to side. Her fingers were doing strange things to her, making her feel so hazy and dreamy, yet terribly aware of every sensation in her body. When her fingers touched her slit, then spread her sticky cuntlips apart, the girl made a small animal sound in her throat, feeling another feverish tingle sweep through her belly.

"Ohhhh!" she gasped.

Arlette couldn't stop the feeling. She knew she could bring herself off. But somehow that wasn't the same, wouldn't quench the raging fires between her white, shivering legs. No. She would have to see Jack. Opening her eyes, the girl saw her body, saw the flush across her chest and belly, saw the glistening juices dampening her thighs. Yes, Jack would know how to help her, would know how to take care of the pulsing ache down there between her thighs.

"Fuck…" Arlette whispered.

Monica was gone for the afternoon, at the doctor's or something. Her mother had told her that she would return at five-thirty, and it was only three now. Yes, she would go to Jack's. As shameless as that was, as much as it would make her sluttish, Arlette felt she had no choice. She was a young woman driven by passions of which she had little understanding. The teen knew that only someone like Jack could satisfy her.

"I shouldn't go."

Arlette pulled her shorts back on, gasping as she felt the material caressing her feather-soft pussylips. Zipping up the sides, then sliding her halter carefully back over her tits, Arlette adjusted the top, barely covering the red areolas that had by now become so sensitive. Yes, she was a young woman in heat, in high arousal. She could almost smell herself as she twisted the doorknob and walked into the empty corridor. Behind her, the windowpanes rattled again as the Santa Ana winds increased.

Jack's. I'll find it. I think I can find it, Arlette thought to herself as she walked slowly down the stairs, feeling the itchy walls of her cunt rubbing together slickly.

Some distance away, Jack was finding himself well involved with another woman. "Ooooooohhhhhhhh!"

"Slut! You came crawlin' over here practically on your hands and knees for a fuck. And now you tell me you don't want it," he nearly shouted in a hoarse, broken voice.

"Not like this! Oh, God, not like this!" Monica had gone to the doctor's, rushing over to Jack's house after a quick phone call. Like Arlette, the woman had felt the itch in her cunt became unbearable. Perhaps it was the Santa Ana winds making them restless. "Like hell, you don't wanna get fucked around with like this!" he countered, a sneer crossing his face. "You couldn't take a man normally now if you wanted!"

The statement cut through Monica like a guillotine blade. As she stood there, rubbing the red spot on her cheek where the big man had just slapped her Monica knew what he was saying was true. Something inside her had snapped, had broken the first time Jack tied her up and fucked her. Sex and pleasure was somehow related to pain, to the kind of sensations she could draw from the ropes and restraints he fastened to her.

Monica drew back from the big man standing spread-legged in front of her, adjusting the straps of her light, pink dress. But perhaps this wasn't the time to satisfy her lusts. Even though she was so very hot down there, she had Arlette to consider. Her daughter was at home and acting extremely strangely. Perhaps she should get back early and have a heart to heart talk with the young girl. After all, they hadn't been close for such a long time now.

"Now take off those fuckin' clothes, and we'll get down to partyin'."

Jack was unbuckling his belt, opening the front of his Levi's. Lowering her eyes, Monica could see that bulge between his legs, pressing up against the front of his jeans once more. His prick was hard – hard and thick, ready to ream into her after some foreplay. And Monica knew only too well what kind of foreplay Jack wanted. She trembled, backing away, her hands crossed over one another, then gripped her narrow shoulders.

"Gonna play games, huh? Still can't get over that shy stage. Dumb bitch," he muttered, wiping his nose with one hand, still smirking down at Monica. "Okay, I can play the same stupid game, baby."

Monica let out a small cry as Jack lunged for her, catching the woman by the wrist, then spinning her around. She screamed again as he twisted her arm back and up, her knuckles pressing against the space between her shoulderblades and her knees buckling from the pain. How her elbows and shoulders ached as Jack twisted her arm up and around a little more, one knee jammed into the small of her back. Tears sprang out from under her lashes as the woman began sinking toward the floor.

"Okay, baby, we're gonna go all the way now… all the way. I've been buildin' somethin' special downstairs for you in the basement. I think you're gonna like it."

"Oh, no, not down there… no!" Monica had never seen Jack's cellar, but he had intimated several things about it that made her shudder with something between hot curiosity and fear. Now he was pushing her out of the livingroom, her feet stumbling over one another, her head hanging down and her long blonde hair washing over her face. They were in the kitchen now. Jack let go of her wrist, pushing her hard between her shoulders.

Monica slid forward, stumbling, her hands striking the sink and refrigerator as she fought for her balance.

"Ooooohhhhhhh!"

Crashing against the stove, her hands knocked over the burner plates, the black cast iron clattering to the tiled floor.

"Stupid slut!"

Jack slapped her hard across the back of the head, then grabbed her hair and yanked back. "Aieyeyeyyeyeeee!" she screamed.

Monica thought he had sheared off a hunk of her scalp. Pulling her head back even harder, Jack then let go and shoved her forward once more, sending the screaming blonde against the cellar entrance door. Her nose flattened against the wood, and her hands clawed the molding for support.

"Down you go."

Monica eyed Jack suspiciously, brushing the hair from her face. Would he push her down the stairs, laughing as her body rolled and bounced over the steps? That thought made the heat rise once more in her crotch. Her pussy quivered in anticipation of… of what?

"Come on."

Grabbing her hand, Jack moved down past the woman, pulling her down, down into the cellar. Monica descended the steps reluctantly, pulling back at times, her feet sliding dangerously over the steep steps. If only she had a weapon, a knife. Surely, that would be the only way she could escape this man, this style of life that had entrapped and entranced her!

Monica shivered as she reached the bottom of the stairs. A damp draft wafted up between her warm thighs, making her shudder once more. The woman hugged her body, closing her thighs and bending one leg in to warm her chilling cunt. The draft continued wafting over her pussy hairs, raising gooseflesh underneath. Monica knew she was going to be tortured. "Come on."

Again, Jack gripped her shoulders, his voice making her cringe. He gave her a push, sending her stumbling forward toward a water heater.

"What… what are you going to do to me?" Monica asked haltingly.

Jack said nothing, swaggering over to her, that cold, cruel gleam making his eyes hard and glassy like those of some hideous doll. Monica backed away, her heart sinking with terror.

"I don't want this. Whatever you may think, I don't want… this," Monica whispered, shaking her head slowly, her hands still crossed and covering her tits.

"Sure you do."

With that, Jack grabbed her shoulders, knocking her hands away. Monica let out a squeal, snapping her head back, feeling her brain grow numb with fear. He was tearing the straps from her shoulders, reaching around and opening the zipper. She felt the dress loosening around her thighs and bodice, sliding down, down toward her feet. Twisting around in his grip, Monica looked into Jack's hard, glittering eyes and saw he could sense her arousal.

"Don't want it huh, baby? You want it so bad, you can hardly stand."

Monica felt her dress slide off completely, then her panties, then her bra. With a quick, savage movement, Jack slashed the back of his right hand across her jaw, sending the woman reeling back, one foot tangling over the other. Monica fell backward, her ass striking the cold concrete floor and half knocking the wind from her.

"No!" she cried.

Jack smiled grimly at her. He seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. Reaching down, he pulled violently up with one arm, dragging her across the floor. Something popped in her shoulders. Monica half slid, half crawled, begging him to stop, asking him to let her go.

"Shut up," he snapped, dropping her hand, then slapping Monica hard across the left cheek. The woman screamed out, her arms flailing to either side as, once more, she slipped back onto her bare ass, barely keeping herself from falling over.

Jack satisfied himself that Monica wouldn't be moving around for a short while. He walked over to a large, scratched green-metal tool cabinet, unlocking the doors, then opening them. Monica stared at the large box, seeing what she thought were chains and other similar devices laying on the six shelves within. There were the tell-tale sounds of metal against metal. Jack pulled something out, then turned and walked over to her. Cuffs! Again, the cuffs, again, the trappings of mastery over her.

"Oh, no!"

Monica tried crawfishing away, her asscheeks sliding uncomfortably over the cold, cracked concrete floor. Jack moved forward, raising one foot, then cracking his heavy black leather boot on her ankle. Monica's face slackened and blanched, a scream dying in her throat as she looked tearfully up at the big man. No, he would get no cries from her, no moans of mercy. Those sorts of things made him only more savage, more brutal, more unforgiving. The small bones in her feet were threatening to crack and break under the force of his foot. Meekly, Monica offered her hands to the big man, turning her face away to hide her tears.

"Better," Jack muttered.

Pulling her arms behind her, he once again cuffed her wrists, linking the two leather loops together so the woman wouldn't be able to escape. It had been difficult for Monica to keep her chafed wrists from her daughter's eyes. Long dresses and high collars had managed to hide some of the other marks of Jack's affections.

"Uhhhhh…" she moaned.

Monica felt her pussy starting to cream the moment she felt the leather tightening around her small wrists. It was happening again. The restraints, the bondage, the savagery was starting all over. And how she looked forward to it as much as she dreaded it!

"Come on, Monica, come on."

Jack picked her up, leading her forward, making her keep her face lowered to the ground while his hands rubbed familiarly and lustfully over her rounded asscheeks. At times, she felt his fingers pinching her smooth, white assflesh. Again, a cry came to her lips, but she managed to swallow it, her feet scraping over the cold basement floor.

"Here." Jack made her stop by a double sink, telling Monica not to move as he slid a chair over to her. The scraping sound made her cringe. "Just a sec, and I'll have things ready for you."

He was standing on the chair, reaching up into the rafters for something. There was more clattering, then the sound of metal rubbing against wood. Dust and chips of wood filtered down onto her shoulders and hair. Looking up, Monica caught the sight of heavy chain uncoiling from a position above her, then falling down fast to each side of her body. An inch either way, and her shoulders would have been crushed by the iron links!

"Oh God! God! This is savage," she whispered, her eyes widening at the two strands of chain jiggling and swaying to either side of her body.

"I'd gag that fuckin' stupid bitch-mouth of yours, but I wanna hear you scream, baby. I wanna hear you yellin' your fuckin' head off. And nobody's gonna hear outside. Soundproofed," Jack said, rapping one cinder, blocked wall with his knuckles.

"What's going to happen?"

Monica eyed the two strands of heavy link chain on either side of her body and had an idea even before Jack began linking one of them to her wrist-cuffs. She heard the sound of a clamp being opened then snapped shut around the links.

"This side's to pull down on, baby," Jack said, gripping the length of chain and rattling it. "Right above you, I've got a pulley, nice, heavy-duty one I picked up down near the train yard in Pomona. Got this idea from readin' one of them mags at the Book Circus a couple of days ago. Thought you'd dig it."

Jack pulled down on the chain. Almost immediately, Monica felt the chain opposite her tugging up at her bound wrists. Her arms moved back, back, both of them now parallel to the floor. Monica was starting to feel an uncomfortable tension in her upper muscles and shoulders. She bent forward slightly at the waist, spreading her legs apart to ease that pressure.

"Ohhh, don't do it… please, you'll snap my arms off!" she wailed.

Jack pulled a little more, the chain rattling over the eyehook, sending shudders through the naked woman's body. Monica groaned, her arms pulling up behind her a little more, her body bending forward. Her long blonde hair curtained her face once again as the chain rattled overhead.

"A fuckin' piece of meat. That's all you and your fuckin' daughter are, meat."

Monica's heart stopped.

"Arlette! Oh, no, you… you animal, you… touched her?" Monica gasped, her eyes wide with horror.

"What do you think?" Jack sneered, yanking the chain hard at least a foot. Monica screamed a scream of the damned as her arms snapped backward at least a foot. The ordeal had begun once more.