Mother and daughter in bondage

CHAPTER SIX

He was fucking her hard, steady, and fast. His fingers pinched her tits cruelly while his body slammed again and again against Sharon's ass. She sobbed, his callused fingers on her nipples making every ounce of her swinging tits throb with agony. And, oh, how that touch increased the fierce heat exploding in her cunt! Never would she have guessed that this much pain and humiliation could have such a positive sexual effect.

"Ooowwwww."

God, he was biting her, clamping his teeth on the nape of her neck. The girl screamed, throwing her head back, feeling the sweep of her tangled blonde hair over her arms. Slowly, painfully, Sharon found herself raising her body with her arms, keeping up that constant bobbing action with her ass. In spite of the horror, in spite of what Tommy had both done and said to her, the attractive blonde teen had to experience release. She had to have that climax, that wonderful rush of feelings she remembered from that awful night under her mother's bedroom window and later on in her own bed. No, there was no way she could escape it. She had to cum, had to climax.

"Uhhh! Uhhhh! Uhhh!" Sharon grunted each time Tommy raped his prick through her cunt, his groin slapping loud and wet against her ass. She could feel the wiry hairs of his cock bush against her pussy and asshole. That itching, burning sensation around her cunt and ass was driving her crazy. The girl ground her teeth together and let out strangled choking sounds as she shoved her ass back, weaving and swiveling her ass from side to side.

"Work it out, you Goddamned little slut! Come on, work it out!" Tommy bellowed.

Sharon cried out, the tearing pain around her nipples blanching her mind. All she wanted was to have those feelings increase more and more until the pain and spinning knot of tension in her belly exploded.

Tommy was chewing on her neck again, sucking her flesh, then biting it hard until the girl feared he had broken the skin. And still, he fucked her like a maniac, his fingers cruelly bruising her tits, then moving down to her belly to pinch and slap it. He was all over her, touching her all over, fucking her all over.

That twisting, scratching pain in her nipples was like a fire scorching all her nerves. Thoughts of her mother, of her friends, of Hank all evaporated under the exploding sexuality of her raped cunt. Yes, she had been raped, but now Sharon knew she was volunteering the enthusiasm. Yes, she wanted his prick, wanted it fucking through her pussy the way it was now, rubbing continually against her clit, drawing out every ounce of strength, of will from her!

"Gonna… uhhh… gonna spray out soon, baby… gonna fill you up with my jizz!" Tommy grunted, his fingers tightening around her tits.

"Noooo!"

Tommy was growling like some kind of wild animal. In a moment, Sharon found, herself matching his grunts and snarls. She heard the squishing of his cock as it slipped in and out of her cunt faster and faster. The slapping of his balls drove her half mad. That wonderful lump of excitement deep in her belly was growing now, taking her over, threatening to explode at any second. And now, oh, his prick seemed to be thickening, growing more and more steely, brittle as the boy got ready to cum.

And then with a particularly hard, savage jab, the young man shoved his cockhead down all the way. Sharon felt his groin rubbing up against the rounded curves of her asscheeks, felt his hands gripping her by the hipbones and holding her.

"Gonna ride you out, baby, gonna… uhghhhh… gonna break you like some Goddamned mare! Goddamned little slut, ruttin' like this! Yeah, gonna… ughhhh."

It came with the fury of a summer brushfire. Sharon gasped, her eyes rounding at first, then cinching tight as spasm after spasm engulfed her consciousness. Her ass bobbed up and down, then shoved back one more time while her tiny cunt muscles chewed and gummed along the full length of Tommy's spurting prick. They came at the same time, both of them trying to ravage the other with climax.

"Ughhhh…" he groaned.

The first massive spasm shattered the girl completely. She babbled something incoherent, finding a language all her own as her legs shivered, her elbows collapsed and one side of her face pressed hard against the tattered couch pillow before her.

"Wowowowowowowowowowowohhhhh!" she panted.

The couch jerked violently as the two of them snapped from side to side, their bodies striking the back of the sofa time and time again. Sharon heard herself screaming as her climax washed over her like some awful tidal wave. Tommy's teeth broke the skin of her neck as another blast of cum spattered deep in her cunt.

"Uhhhhhhh…" This cum was more powerful than any she had ever had in her life. She could feel it in her nipples, her fingers, her toes, her belly. The flesh around her cunt and asshole was on fire, with all that quenching cum finally putting out the blaze. Sharon sobbed, knowing that the spurting, jabbing, gut-spraying prickshaft was possessed by that horrible young man who would step on her as well as fuck her. "Uhhhhhhh…"

After what seemed like hours, Tommy pulled away, wiping his sweating forehead with the back of one hand.

"Good piece of ass, Sharon. Yeah, nice fuckin' piece of ass," he breathed, putting both hands on her asscheeks and fanning out his fingers. Slowly, reluctantly, he began pulling his softening cock out, watching with rounded eyes as jizm and cunt juice trickled down her thighs and wet the material of the old sofa. Sharon was shivering, her body swaying slightly front side to side as he withdrew his prick.

"Oh, God, God, what've I done," she moaned, drawing one hand over her eyes and covering her face.

"What you damned well pleased. Man, you must've been wantin' a fuckin' for a long time," Tommy commented, pulling his cock out all the way, then rubbing his still-swollen prickhead over her cunt hairs.

Sharon let out a little cry, feeling the muscles cinch down on nothing. "That's not true."

How hollow and empty her words sounded! Yes, she must have wanted a man to touch her like that for a long time, to fuck her! What a terrible thing to admit!

"And we ain't through yet, baby. You're on call, understand?" Tommy said, crawling off the couch and fishing around the floor for his Levi's. Sharon blinked, rolling half over and peering heavy-lidded at the young stud.

"What… what do you mean?"

"Just what I said. You're on call, twenty-four hours, like a nurse," Tommy said, chuckling at his choice of words as he slid into his jeans, shoving his softened cock back in through the fly and zipping up. "I wanna get fucked, I give you a call. You're listed. You just come runnin' over here when I want a little action, that's all."

"Oh!"

Sharon couldn't believe this was happening to her. She wanted to scream out something to him, tell him exactly what she thought of huh. But what did she think of him? He had hurt her, degraded her, raped her. But she had loved the feeling, enjoyed having his prick reaming through her cunt, relished the feeling of having him brutalize her before the rape.

"Now, damn it, get the fuck outta here before my old man comes in and wants to fuck you himself," Tommy ordered, reaching down, scraping up her dirty bikini suit, then throwing it into her face.

Sharon didn't need much encouragement. Still shaky from the ordeal, she managed to slide her legs off the couch, step into her bottoms, then grab the torn tops and hold them as best she could over her tits.

"Go out the side. See you soon, baby," Tommy said, smiling cruelly at her as he slapped her firm asscheeks.

Sharon let out a little squeal, relishing the cool air she felt against her flesh as Tommy opened the door for her. Clasping one hand over her mouth, fighting down the desire to break down and sob right there, Sharon rushed front the garage, looking nervously from side to side to make certain no one saw her. Sweat and cum streaked her body as the young girl rushed over the grass, past the concrete driveway and into the bushes. There, just a few feet in front of her was the back door. In a moment, Sharon found herself in the safety of her mother's kitchen.

"Oh, my God!" she moaned.

Halting for a moment, the young girl leaned heavily against the refrigerator, sobs shaking her body as she thought of what had happened. He had hit her, shoved her around, knocked her to the floor, then dragged her to that awful couch. And that hadn't been enough. No, he had to degrade her with that rat-tail file, playing with her cunt with that thing before… before tearing away her cherry with a thumb, then shoving his fat, long prick into her and how she had loved it! Oh, God, that was the confusing, horrible thing which Sharon couldn't understand. Through it all, the girl had enjoyed every instant of the ordeal.

"Dear God!" Sharon sobbed.

But there was no time for her to worry about that now. Glancing wearily up at the kitchen clock, Sharon realized her mother would be home soon. No, she had to clean up, to pretend everything was normal. And that would give her time to think, time to come to terms with what had happened to her and what she would do.

The hours dragged by that afternoon and evening. Janice cooked a small dinner, then served her silent daughter, eyeing Sharon and wondering why the normally vivacious girl was suddenly so quiet. The teen played with her food, shoving her fork around the plate listlessly, washing it down with milk, then asking to be excused. Was it the flu? Was it something else Janice felt she should know about?

An attack of guilt made her stomach tense as she gathered up the dinner plates to carry them into the kitchen. There in the doorway, she stopped, catching, the reflection of herself in the kitchen window. Yes, she was attractive, very attractive, as pretty as her daughter. Hank went after her, got her. Perhaps someone had landed Sharon, as well.

"No, what am I thinking of?"

Janice pursed her lips together, shaking her head from side to side as if to cancel that horrible thought. No, the fault of sex lay with her, not with Sharon. The girl was too inexperienced to be having an affair with men just yet. For heaven's sake, she had just put her dolls away only months ago… or so it seemed! No, Sharon wasn't plagued with problems of sex… thank God!

Janice felt a nervous shiver ripple up and down her back as she drew the dishwasher door down to slip the utensils inside. Inexperienced. She had been that way at one time, a young girl who knew nothing, except for the vague, veiled tales her mother had spoken of the night before her marriage. How sheltered her mother must have been during all those years with her father. How had they ever enjoyed themselves? Her own marriage had taken off slow. It was only with Jack's patience and kindness that she had finally learned about climax, about all the various positions that brought so much pleasure.

Closing the dishwasher and turning it on, Janice folded her arms over her tits, feeling the warmth of the cleansing water through the drawer radiate through her dark-blue shorts. Jack. There was a lover: kind, generous, hot. Then the image of Hank drifted into her mind, pushing Jack's face away. The smile dropped and a shiver made her flesh crawl. That monster, that… that horrible man! And yet he had touched something in her, struck a chord that made her body and soul tremble with delight.

Walking slowly from the kitchen, Janice waved one hand in front of her as if she could erase all that had happened to her. She had encouraged him to come over. Yes, that was true. He was right to accuse her of that. When the Harringtons had moved in, Janice saw right away that Mrs. Harrington was in no, shape to satisfy her husband. She seemed more a reclusive, sick nun than a wife. And Hank, well, he was crude, vulgar, but vital, every inch of him radiating masculinity. And there she was, widowed, wanting the touch of a man so much, the touch Jack had taught her to desire with every ounce of her being. Yes, she had purposely wagged her ass around that yard, wearing as revealing an outfit as possible without causing an outright scandal. She had seen the disapproving looks from nearby neighbors who guessed her scheme. But Mrs. Harrington didn't seem to mind. Indeed, she seemed relieved for the attention Janice was receiving around the house. Then came that fateful night when Hank took her into the garage and… the rest was history. But only afterward did Janice realize the truly sadistic streak running in him, a streak that soon took over every action. Now she was trapped, cornered by him and her own sexuality that wanted more of his kind of lovemaking!

"I need a drink," she breathed to herself, walking a little unsteadily into the living room. He had threatened to fuck her daughter.

Was that bravado, or had he really had his eye on her? Sitting on the tall, leather-covered bar stool, Janice thought of that as she reached for the bottle of vodka and poured herself a tall, cool vodka tonic. She realized she was feeling something like possessive jealousy as she picked up her drink and took a long swallow. The burning sensation down her throat seemed to calm her nerves somewhat. Jealousy? That was absurd. No, she was more concerned about her daughter's safety, about having Sharon exposed to the same kind of horrors she both feared and wanted.

God, another attack of horniness. She hadn't been to bed with Hank for three days. That was something of a record with them. After that night in the garage, he had been coming over regularly. Either that, or she would slip out without Sharon's notice, tiptoeing through the bushes over to the garage, then fucking him on that horrid little sofa in the corner. How she feared that his son or wife would suddenly barge in and find the two of them in a wild embrace. It was only last night that he revealed his true colors, beating and roping her, and telling her there would be more in store. More?

Janice took another sip of her drink, listening to the light tinkle of the ice against the glass. It was then she realized, that her fingers were trembling. With excitement, with anticipation? Another sip, this one calming her nerves even more.

Mechanically, Janice began rubbing her wrists, looking down at the places where those bonds had been. She could still feel the silk of the bathrobe belt, the pull of the pantyhose as her body was bent back in that horribly awkward position. It had given her the feeling of complete helplessness. And that had some how increased her sexual excitement. It was all so mixed up. Janice couldn't figure it out, wasn't sure if she wanted to as she finished her drink and began to prepare another. Just as she was dousing the melting ice with tonic, the phone rang, the jangling making her hair stand on end.

"Yes?"

There was some hot breathing as a response. Hank. She knew it, could feel it in her bones. A rush of chilly heat flashed through her body as Janice leaned against the wall, twisting the plastic-coiled phone cord in one hand.

"It's been a long time, baby. I wanna get that thing into you, know what I mean. The wife's asleep. Come on over."

Hank's mating call! Still, in spite of his crudity, it made her burn with desire.

"No, my daughter's upstairs and… and I don't think I should see you, Hank. I mean…"

"I mean things went too far the last time and…"

Janice couldn't finish the last sentence. She felt the big man's anger, felt his overwhelming desire to strike her for that attempted defiance. Biting down on her lower lip, Janice twisted the phone cord more frantically, wishing she had the courage just to hang up the phone and get on with her life.

"I said you was gettin' that ass over here now! Now don't gimme any lip, or I'll come over there and fuck the shit outta you right there in your living room with the Goddamned door open. You can let your precious daughter see you then, along with half the neighborhood," he threatened.

"All right, all right," she replied breathlessly, feeling the receiver get all sweaty against her ear. "I'll be right over."

The garage! Putting down her drink, Janice turned and peered at herself in the mirror. She was still attractive, pretty even. She should be dressed in furs, going out to the finest restaurants with a sophisticated man, not slinking around in backyards to fuck around in some dirty, greasy garage.

But still, the woman went, first going to the foot of the stairs and calling up softly to her daughter. No answer. Good. Sharon must not have been feeling well and went straight to bed. Inhaling a deep breath, Janice turned, then walked quietly into the darkened kitchen, pausing only for a moment at the rear door. Some force, some horrible dark force was stirring in her now, making her pulse race and her heart quicken as she stepped into the night air and walked toward the bushes separating her property from the Harrington's.