Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: The Pact: Episode 2 -- Things Get Complicated
Part: 42 of 47
Universe: The Pact
Summary: Complications set in for the secretive little group created by the
Pact. The boys stumble into a potential goldmine -- but are they biting off
more than they can chew?
Content: MF mF Mf oral anal ir voy M-dom toys
The Pact: Episode 2 -- Things Get Complicated
Chapter 42
"Candace!"
"Damian?" Candace came out of the living room in her summer uniform
-- a bikini bathing suit -- eyes wide.
"What's the matter? Did I catch you Jillin' off?" Damian grinned.
"No..." Candace blushed, wondering how he always got the upper hand.
"I just didn't expect you."
"That's Pa bangin' around downstairs..." Damian pointed out.
"Yes, it is." Candace shook her head to clear it. "What can I do
for you, Honey?"
"Terence brought his new toy. Lon and I thought we'd try it out.
You're a little smaller than Sally, so we'll get to see how it adjusts."
"Toy?" Damian watched Candace's face, reading her thought process.
'This is probably going to be unpleasant. If I stand here pretending I have
a choice, it will get MORE unpleasant...' "Let's have a look, then..." She
turned toward the stairs.
Downstairs, Terence was giving Lon 'Pillory One Oh One'. "So you
snug up the Velcro on her wrists like this, and she puts her neck in the
center opening, and then you put the top bar on..." Sally obediently placed
her head in the contraption, her wrists already secured. "And then you flip
down the T-bolts and snug up the wing-nuts and that's all there is to it."
Terence did one and Lon did the other, and then both stepped back. "What do
you think?"
"No locks?" Lon asked.
"She can't get at the nuts..."
"Try it," Lon told Sally. "Use your feet." Sally spent a minute or
so taking a run at it, but she couldn't get her feet up high enough. At the
end of the attempt, Lon still wasn't satisfied. "You probably ought to have
a little chick like Teela try -- she's probably a contortionist, anyway.
Besides, what if we've got two girls down here for punishment and the other
one gets out?"
"It's big time psych warfare to have heavy hinges and locks and
stuff," Damian agreed. "Makes 'em feel more helpless -- right Candace?"
"I wouldn't know," Candace replied carefully. "Beth is the expert."
"This is plenty good enough," Terence defended his creation.
"Oh, sure," Damian agreed. "But when you do Version Two, you should
think about that stuff. Get a blacksmith or something."
"Maybe." Terence grimaced.
"Is it stable?" Lon asked.
"Pretty much," Terence frowned.
"Move it, Sally," Lon directed. It turned out that with a concerted
effort, Sally might be able to tip or drag the heavy device.
"Damn!" Terence grunted.
"Well, Sally's a big girl," Lon grinned. "I'm more concerned about
someone going apeshit while being punished, you know?" He went over to the
wall where the 'toy box' sat and retrieved a ball gag. "Open up, Sally."
Sally did so, her face outwardly calm, while he installed the gag and
fastened it tightly. Then Lon went digging again and came up with a short
whip. He pulled the other two males into a huddle. "I'm gonna fire her up;
if she looks like she's gonna bowl the thing over, make sure she doesn't
land on her head -- I don't want to lose her, okay?"
"Awright." Terence flinched just thinking about the upcoming
activity.
Lon circled around to Sally's front. "Okay, we're going to see what
you're capable of when you're desperate. Don't try to be all stoic -- we
want to know what can happen if you start to lose it. You can move any old
way you want to try to get away, understand?"
Sally locked gazes with him and nodded solemnly.
Lon circled around behind her, and selected a quirt. "This thing
better not leave permanent marks," he mumbled -- then he delivered a vicious
crack across Sally's ass!
The look on Sally's face made Terence positively sick -- surprise,
horror, and incredible pain appeared in that order. Before she could even
fully grasp the full impact of the first strike, Lon delivered a second,
followed by a third, and a fourth, and a fifth...
By the sixth stroke, it was clear that the pain wasn't additive, it
was multiplicative -- and Sally totally lost it, lunging and thrashing and
rocking the heavy wooden frame, screaming pitifully around the ball gag.
Terence stepped up to brace it when it looked like she was going to make the
thing fall toward him and came face to face with animal pain and horror,
Sally's face a mask, her eyes vacant, drool pouring around the ball gag with
the hideous wails.
Lon stopped at ten. "Help me get her out!" he yelled, "Now!"
Terence took one side and Lon took the other, removing the upper bar and
snatching at the Velcro fastenings to release her. When she was free, she
threw herself backward, but Lon was there, grabbing her wrists and pulling
her to a pile of mats. There he sat and pulled her into his lap, where she
curled into a ball of pain and suffering while he stroked her hair and made
calming noises.
"Jesus! What the fuck you doin' in there?" Fred's voice sounded
from outside the curtain.
"Don't come in here, Pa!" Damian warned. He circled to the edge of
the curtain and came out. "We were testing Big Bro's hunk of furniture, and
it kinda got out of hand."
"Sounded like you was beatin' some bitch to death!" Fred declared.
"Well, she ain't dead, but she sure ain't happy," Damian allowed.
"You go on back to what you're doing -- we've got it under control."
"Well, awright," Fred grunted. "I dunno if I'm gonna be comfortable
with not seein' for myself."
Damian grimaced. Sally was the one chick in the world that Fred
REALLY couldn't be seeing... "I'll see what I can do once she settles
down," he advised.
"I may be a sorry motherfucker, but I don't beat the piss out of a
woman like that!" Fred declared. "Jesus!"
Damian had no answer for that; he ducked back behind the curtain
without trying.
Lon had released the ball gag; Sally was crying like a baby. Lon
had shifted her to her stomach over his lap; Damian could see the nasty red
welts that decorated her ass. Perhaps the weirdest thing about it was the
fact that Lon was crying, too, as he rubbed her back and consoled her.
After a bit, Sally settled down to the point where she was coherent and
looked up at Lon, her face a mirror of her betrayal. "Why?"
Lon was pretty uncomfortable, but he couldn't back down. "It was an
experiment. Actually, it was two or three, maybe. You passed; if anyone
failed, it was me."
Sally watched his face. 'He's not going to say he's sorry,' she
thought, 'but he is.' She could see the tear tracks on his face despite his
efforts at clearing them away. "Let me up," she said softly.
Lon considered it -- and felt obligated -- but he was afraid that
she would walk out. "No."
Sally looked back up at him, her calm restored. "It's... not okay,"
she said, "but I accept it."
Lon understood; he let her up, then stood and pulled her in, hugging
her and avoiding the stripes. "Maybe we ought to get some ointment or
something," he said lamely.
Candace, sensing an opportunity to escape, muttered, "I have
something," and turned to leave.
Damian caught her wrist. "It'll wait." His eyes bored into hers.
"The rough stuff is over, but there are other tests..." Slowly, she stopped
resisting.
Lon, feeling a need to justify his brutality, said, "I think you're
gonna need to add another four or five inches to the end of each foot. Or
maybe bolt it down..."
"Nah," Damian argued. "Put it on some plywood or something.
That'll extend its footprint without being bulky. Even better, you can pad
it, so whoever is in it won't hurt their knees..." He hauled Candace
forward. "Let's see if it fits you."
"Damian..." Candace protested.
"Go on -- I told you I wasn't gonna beat your ass. Don't make me
change my mind," Damian warned.
Candace sighed and stepped forward, placing her hands through the
Velcro loops.
For the next fifteen minutes, they tested various heights and
positions using both Sally and Candace. Damian's idea to pad the surface at
the floor made sense when the restraining parts were lowered to the point
that the user (or victim, or whatever) had to kneel. They even tried ankle
stocks; Candace was lying back on the floor with her ankles in the device
when things got quiet on the other side of the curtain, ten Fred's voice
sounded, "Boys! I wanna see whoever it was got her ass beat over there!"
Everyone traded glances. The chance that Fred wouldn't recognize
Sally as the girl that got him sodomized was absolutely zero -- what to do?
"I'm fine, Sir, really!" Sally called. "We were just trying something and
it got out of hand..."
"How do I know it was you?" Fred growled. "Sounded like they was
killing ya!"
Thinking fast, Damian made some gestures. Sally backed up to the
curtain and Damian and Terence lifted a chunk of the heavy fabric high
enough that Fred could see her ass. "It was me, see?"
'That's a fine looking ass to be puttin' welts on,' Fred thought.
"You need me ta kick somebody's ass for ya, Sweet Thang?"
"No, it's okay, Sir," Sally replied. "It's all over."
"I might give a woman a lick upside the head for bein' stupid, but I
don't leave stripes on her ass," Fred muttered, touching her ass gently.
"You oughta put something on those."
"I will, Sir." Sally stepped forward and Damian and Terence dropped
the curtain.
"Awright." Fred went back to work, grumbling.
"That was sweet," Sally observed.
"Scary, though," Lon replied. "Can you imagine?"
"One day he might see one of you," Damian agreed. "Let's hope that
when he does, it isn't a surprise."
Lon nodded. "Can you let go of Mama? We ought to treat those
welts..."
"Sure." Moments later, Candace was headed upstairs, leading Lon and
Sally.
"You gonna take that back home?" Damian asked.
"No, I'll fix it here," Terence replied. "I'll get a hunk of
plywood and some construction adhesive -- and I'm gonna call Beth so she can
help me with the padding. All in all, it ain't bad."
"Nope," Damian agreed. "Pretty good, actually. If you do the
stocks thing, though, you've GOT to have locks..."
"Yeh," Terence agreed, musing.
"Let's use it for Pa and Trish," Damian suggested. "Kneel her up in
it with a hood."
"Awright." Terence went off to call Beth.
----------------------------------
The TV was blasting when Rick and Teela came downstairs. "Jeezus,
Poppa!" Teela complained. "You're gonna bust everybody's eardrums!"
"Well, you don't bust mine, but you're plenty loud," Frank
Pendergast complained. "And I ain't got no outlets, ya know?"
Teela flashed a glance at Rick, "Poppa, what if we could, uh,
arrange something?"
"What? A hooker? I'd catch something." Frank pulled off his
eyeglasses and wiped them on his T-shirt, then peered at her "Since when are
you a pimp?"
"It's not like that, Poppa," Teela replied, "We just know a few nice
ladies about your age who like to..."
"Fuck?" Frank finished for her. "How would you know that?"
"It's... complicated," Teela replied.
"I bet." Frank shifted his glance to Rick.
"We're in... sort of a club," Rick took over. "There are several
older women in it. It's kind of a swing club."
"Gettin' off to an early start?" Frank asked suspiciously.
"Actually, I was in it before I met Teela," Rick replied. "Since
then, I've not done a whole lot of... socializing... if you know what I
mean. But we're both members, if in name only."
Frank scratched an ear. "Might be a way to keep shit in the family,
so to speak, at that, if you guys keep your outside fun in this club. But
what's it got to do with me?"
"Well," Rick replied, "the club has a fairly large population of
ladies in their mid to late thirties -- and not a lot of men in that age
group..."
"No shit? What do they look like?"
"They vary, widely," Rick replied, then paused a moment before
adding, "One of them is my mother."
"And she isn't much bigger than me!" Teela added.
"Why would one of them want to fuck me?" Frank asked.
"Why not?" Rick replied. "They started the club because they were
doing without..."
"An' how to I become a member of this... club?" Frank asked.
"You're grandfathered," Rick replied. "Teela has paid your
membership, sort of, in advance."
"Uh... huh..." Frank said dubiously.
"You can just try it out," Teela argued, "but we'll have to take
some precautions to keep things anonymous, you know? These people don't
want others to know..."
"Yah, I know about sex clubs," Frank nodded. "About you and you
mother...?"
"No," Rick replied, smiling.
"I had to ask."
"The original goal of the group was to get horny mothers and sons
together without risking incest. It's kind of a ground rule," Rick
amplified. "We've branched out some, and some things have changed, but not
that."
"Okay, so, what makes you think any of these women will want a piece
of me?" Frank asked. "I mean, if shit's voluntary..."
Rick looked mildly bothered. "Some of our members aren't quite
volunteers -- but I don't anticipate you not finding someone willing to give
you a try."
"Maybe you oughta double back on that one and come past me slower.
What's a 'not quite volunteer'?" Frank asked.
"Poppa, the group started with older women and young boys," Teela
clarified. "That's not exactly legal or safe to let out in public.
Basically, everybody in the group could be blackmailed. So when they
started bringing in new members, they made sure all of the new members had a
skeleton tied to them that the group had the key to. So, while the whole
thing is mostly ignored, everybody in the group can be brought into line,
one way or another -- and some of them require a reminder every once in a
while."
"Everyone?"
"Yes, Poppa, even me. I volunteered to get videoed in a
compromising position to get into the group," Teela confirmed.
Frank rubbed his chin. "So, ta get back to it, if you can't find a
volunteer, you can MAKE some poor woman take me on..."
"In essence, yes," Rick agreed.
"That'd be kinda embarrassing."
"Look, I can't GUARANTEE it, but I don't think we're going to have
any trouble," Rick advised.
"What kinda choices have I got?" Frank asked, interest getting past
his caution.
"Well, you'd be amazed, I think. Several shapes and sizes and at
least three races..." Rick eyed him. "Ever had a black woman?"
Frank's eyebrows went up. "No, can't say I have. When Teela's
momma..." He shut up.
"Go ahead, Poppa," Teela sighed.
"When Teela's momma experimented with nigger dick, they was with
other white women," Frank finished.
"Um, we have several black members," Rick murmured, "Saying nigger
won't make you popular."
Frank grinned. "I can see that. An' I can behave myself. I was
raised in Alabama, though..."
"Well, we're not big on being politically correct, but..."
"Yeah. No sense pissin' folk off. I only said it 'cause it's just
us -- and 'cause it was kinda how I felt about it at the time, if ya know
what I mean." Frank's face said he hadn't been happy with that experiment.
"You know how it is -- I know a lotta nice black folk -- and a few niggers."
"Okay, but we've got a couple of stand-up members who are black guys
-- and three or four black women." Rick flashed a glance at Teela. "Some
of them are younger..."
"Younger'n what?"
"Younger than eighteen."
"Holy shit!" Frank got wide-eyed. "You're tellin' me you got girls
Teela's age fuckin' horny old goats like me?"
Rick and Teela flashed a glance. "That'd be a yes," Rick confirmed.
"Damn! I'm gonna hold off for a while on that, I think," Frank sat
back in his chair, shaken. "Still, I could sure use a dip... Why don'tcha
ask around and see what's out there -- for tomorrow, say."
"Okay, Poppa. We'll do that." Teela grinned and led Rick off --
fortunately, not back to her bedroom. Frank didn't see how he could listen
to that pair go at it and contemplate getting laid himself with clean
underwear.
----------------------------------
Beth wandered in about thirty minutes after Terence called and they
spent quite a while talking about how to fix the pillory, eventually
deciding on a hunk of half-inch plywood, covered by a chunk of an exercise
pad taken from one of the booths. They had to cut up the vinyl cover in
such a way as to avoid the braces yet look neat, which pretty much trashed
the remainder of the pad; Beth promised to go out and buy a replacement.
The end product looked halfway decent; Terence planned to paint the plywood
stabilizing the far side black, but that was a project for another day. A
two-by-four crosspiece on the far end of the stand supported the brace and
the plywood and allowed Terence to mount casters on the pillory for easy
movement (once you got it off the vertical) -- another project for another
day. When the modifications were complete, Beth hung around and the pair of
them played with it for a while.
Damian went out in the van to pick up Trish at about eight-thirty.
"What did you tell your mama?" he asked when she climbed into the van.
"I told her I was going to a movie," Trish related. "Is that all
right?"
"Yeah. You'll be home in plenty of time," Damian confirmed.
"What am I going to have to do?" she asked.
"The usual," Damian replied indifferently, then stopped the van,
having gone only a couple of blocks. "Let's get you in the back."
"I don't like it back there," Trish whined.
"Yeah, well, you can't tell what you don't know, and right now, you
don't know where the playroom is -- and we like it that way. It's bad
enough that you know about me, now." Damian cocked his thumb. "Let's go."
Trish did as she was told and had a thoroughly miserable ride to the
playroom.
Once there, she was mostly ignored. "Go over and sit there for a
while," Damian directed, pointing at the open door of Booth three and the
chair inside. "I'll call you when we need you." Trish recognized Damian's
brother Terence and a white woman fooling around with a nasty-looking piece
of furniture; the woman dashed Trish's hopes that she might get to fuck
Terence by crawling into the thing while it was set up low to the floor and
begging him, "Hook me up and then use me, please? This thing makes me hot
to look at it! Ram your cock in me -- two or three places, if you can..."
The next thirty minutes were an education to Trish; in the first
place, Terence Carter had a nice dick and knew how to use it. Second, it
was VERY clear that the white woman liked sex -- and she liked it while tied
up, and she liked it rough, and she liked it in her mouth or in her ass as
much as in her pussy! Trish watched Terence shove his whole length of cock
down the woman's throat -- from close range, as Terence waved her over,
grinning -- and she absorbed it happily, even begging him to get a little
rough, if possible. Trish noted that Terence didn't exactly jump at the
opportunity -- something she filed for future reference -- but he did stick
the woman's ass and ride her that way for a while -- and she seemed thrilled
to death... At some point, a voice came from the other side of the curtain,
where there was a lot of sawing and drilling and banging going on in the
middle distance, yelling, "Y'all are fucking killing me here with that
shit!"
"Don't worry, you'll get yours!" Terence had yelled back, and
continued to pump.
Trish's first inkling of what she was there for came when the white
woman glanced at her and told Terence, "Maybe you ought to just send her
home and let me take care of this..."
Terence had chuckled, and said, "It's a little too late now, but if
you want I'll put you on the list."
"That'd be fine," the woman panted, "In fact, I wanted to ask you
for something."
"Yeah?" Terence stroked into the woman's cunt a couple of times
before adding, "What?"
"You know that game you guys came up with?" she gasped.
"Yeah..."
"Promise me that you'll play it with me, some time -- hard! About
six of you..." And then she came -- obviously in the grip of some fantasy.
Alyssa had told Trish some tale; if it was THAT dice game, the woman was
nuts! But she begged Terence to set it up and Terence said he would see
what he could do, shaking his head in perplexity -- which confirmed for
Trish that it WAS that game, after all!
Terence came in the woman's mouth -- or just outside it. Trish
watched, wide-eyed as he jetted four shots of cum into her open mouth before
sinking his dick between her lips -- and it was seriously hot! "Did you
learn anything?" Terence puffed, winded. Trish nodded, wide-eyed. "Y'all
could do a lot worse than learning to fuck from THIS lady!" He reached down
and undid the bar on the pillory and released the woman's hands.
"You could have left me in there a while, you know," the woman said,
"I was getting off on it!"
"I know, but we need it," Terence replied. "He'll be finished
soon."
"Oh, all right..." The woman seemed to be genuinely unhappy, for
God's sake!
Terence waggled a finger. "Come here," he told Trish. "You've seen
it; now you're gonna use it." Reluctantly, Trish got down on her hands and
knees and crawled up to the thing, then put her head and wrists through it.
Terence hooked her up, then came back around. "I'm a fucking idiot," he
announced, and released her, only to order, "Get naked."
Trish did so, slowly, unhappily, to the accompaniment of Terence
waving for her to speed up and tapping his foot. "C'mon, we don't have all
night..." To the other woman, he said, "Would you go get Damian for me?"
The woman nodded and left, and Trish sped up; Alyssa had been very clear
about what kinds of things happened when you crossed Damian!
She was all locked in when Damian arrived. "What do you think?"
Terence asked.
"Looks good, unless he wants to stand up, I guess," Damian mused.
"I'd like to watch," Beth muttered. "It should be fun..."
Damian pursed his lips. "To do that, we'll have to lug it over by a
booth; you'll have to open a hole." He grinned. "What are you gonna do if
he wanders over and sticks his dick in it?"
Beth shrugged. "Suck it."
Damian shrugged. "Okay, we'll move it, then. What about faces?"
"A bag, I was thinking," Terence muttered.
"Yeah, fine." Damian wandered off to talk to Fred. Terence undid
Trish and the three of them -- Terence, Trish, and Beth -- muscled the
pillory over to near the gloryholes in Booth Three so Beth could open one
and watch. Little did anyone know that Toby could have videoed the whole
thing...
"He wants to stand," Damian related upon his return. Terence and
Beth reorganized the pillory, raising the restraints to the point where
Trish was bent horizontal at the waist while standing. "Spread your legs,"
Terence directed brusquely while they were fitting her. "What are you
sniffling about?"
"I have to fuck another dirty, nasty old man..." Trish whimpered.
Terence grimaced and eyed his brother. "Tell us about the last
time," he requested.
Trish blurted it all out, bawling quietly. The brothers stood
around, thinking about the implications -- obviously, not everything that
went down was getting to all those not involved. It was too late, though,
and it WAS her turn, more or less. Finally, Terence came out with, "Well,
your girlfriends both took a dick this morning, and probably some other
shit. I could stick her on here," he pointed to Beth, "but this is what
you're here for. This dude..." He paused a moment. "This dude will have
some sawdust and sweat on him, but I figure he's a better class of fuck."
He turned to Damian, "Little Bro, why don't you let him know that this ain't
like the gook woman..."
Damian nodded and headed out. Terence continued, "We're doing the
hood thing for your protection; this guy isn't a member. You want something
else, maybe we can rig it if it's quick..."
"Smelly bags..." Trish shrugged; she didn't have any ideas.
"I think we have a toy for that," Beth announced, "Give me a
minute." She went off to the toy chest. Over the past few weeks, just
about all of her BDSM equipment had migrated to the playroom; she dug a bit
and came up with an oddly shaped sheet of flexible plastic attached to a
strap. "Let's try this."
Terence watched as she settled the strap around Trish's neck. "What
the Hell is that?"
"Elizabethan collar," Beth replied. "It's to keep dogs from chewing
at their stitches after an injury, but it doubles as blinders and works in
both directions. He won't be able to see her face and she won't see his,
but she can see open air..." Basically, once applied, the collar was a cone
shape spreading upward from the base at Trish's neck -- or outward, as the
case may be, since Trish's head was locked in the horizontal plane. "How's
that, Sweetie? No smelly bags..."
"Um, yeah..." Trish was thoroughly bemused. She couldn't see much
but the translucent plastic unless she cocked her head back, at which point,
the wall of booths became visible. For Beth's eventual enjoyment, the
assemblage was placed at a forty-five degree angle to Booth Three, the booth
to Trish's right front, so Fred would be visible from behind her while he
fucked her. Trish could turn her head enough to see the circles in the wall
-- and that was about it. "This is better -- I think."
"Where did you get that?" Terence asked Beth.
"My ex was very resourceful," Beth replied, smiling.
"I guess we're set, then. Better get inside," Terence waved Beth to
the booth.
Down at the area under construction, Damian briefed his father while
he helped him clean and pack his tools, "This one is different from
yesterday, Pa. In the first place, she's young stuff, and in the second, we
ain't pissed at her like we was with the one yesterday, despite the way
she'll be trussed up. You don't have to romance her I guess, but we don't
want her asshole reamed or for her to be rode hard and put up wet, you
know?"
"Awright," Fred nodded. "Straight fuck, then?"
"Yeah," Damian agreed. "Might even be nice if she enjoyed it, too.
Don't let it get in your way, though."
Fred shrugged. "Cool. Let's get the tools out to the truck." They
ferried various items outside to Fred's pickup, Damian taking them outside
while Fred placed them in the stairwell. Fred was playing ball; the boys
and their weird friends were delivering on their promises, so he had no
reason to fuck shit up. Progress had been good; the new floor studs were in
and some rough plumbing. They were going to need the pump pretty soon, but
Rico had gotten all excited and told Fred that he had a line on something in
the afternoon. Rico was in serious need of pussy, apparently, Fred mused;
he was tripping all over himself to get on the gravy train...
The loading complete, Fred dusted himself off as best he could and
announced, "Lead me to it." Damian went off to the edge of the curtain and
tugged on the rope, opening a gap in the curtain about ten feet wide with
the pillory and its occupant just about dead center.
Fred whistled. "Sheeit! You guys come up with somethin' different
every damned time!" Closing in, he asked, "What's that damned cone for?"
"To keep you and her from seeing each other," Damian replied.
"Oh," Fred grunted, squatting next to Trish. "Well, I got most
everything else." He reached up and gentled a dangling breast with his hard
paw, then rubbed her flank. "This is sweet! Do I have to rush it?"
"Nope," Damian shrugged.
"Anybody gonna shit if I get comfortable?"
"Nope. It's just us. Everybody else is upstairs."
"Awright, Sweet Thang, I'm gonna wash up in the sink in the laundry
and I'll be back in a while with less sawdust on me. That okay with you?"
"Yes, sir," Trish replied meekly.
"Good. Y'all be a good girl and we'll all have a good time!" Fred
headed off, a man with a mission. In a moment, Damian followed him,
grinning.
Terence squatted before her, "Now, does that sound bad?"
"No." It didn't keep Trish from being scared shitless, though.
"Look, this ain't no stranger to us -- you'll be fine." Terence
patted her cheek.
"Okay," Trish husked.
"Where the FUCK did you get THAT, Boy?" Fred asked, washing
furiously in the big laundry sink. "Holy shit!"
"We got three or four, Pa," Damian grinned. "You'd be surprised."
He snorted. "Shit, she was cherry last week..."
"No fuckin' shit?" Fred shook his head. "Jeezus!" He fished a
towel out of the dryer and wiped off, tossing it on the floor. "Tell
Whatshername sorry about that."
Damian eyed the towel -- it looked like one from the previous day's
cleanup, laundered. "Don't worry about it -- I'll square it."
His upper half clean, Fred climbed out of his work boots and jeans,
gave his legs a quick wipe, and headed back to the playroom. Trish heard
him coming, but was surprised anyway by the cool hand on her butt. "Please,
Mister..." she whimpered.
"You just relax, Sweet Thang, there ain't no way I'm gonna do
anything to hurt ya," Fred soothed. "You be FINE, girl! Fine, fat titties,
good legs, sweet ass -- and that's a cute little bush trim ya got there,
too!" he added as he ruffled the 'V' she had shaved her pubes into.
"T--Thank you..."
"You jus' relax; pretty soon we gonna fuck, but not 'til you're
comfortable, okay?"
" 'Kay."
"Howcum she's so fuckin' scared?" Fred wanted to know.
"Some of us bartered a piece of her for partial payment on the van,"
Terence explained. "She had to fuck some greasy mechanic with a bag over
her head. She's kind of freaked."
Fred nodded. "An' now she's in THAT damned thing..." Turning his
attention to Trish, he said, "Well, I get sawdust and crap on me, but it's
honest work. An' you ain't bagged. We cain't see each other, an' I cain't
let you outta there, but if we can get past that, I think we're gonna be
fine. How many boys you fucked?"
"Four or five, Sir."
"Was any of 'em gentle?"
"Not really, Sir."
"I could explain all that, but I won't," Damian grunted.
Fred nodded. "Yeah, I can guess. Y'all were teachin' her her
place, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." He rubbed Trish's ass. "Sweet Thang, this ain't gonna be a
punishment session. I want you to stop worryin' about that. This is gonna
be fun, and the sooner you stop worryin', the sooner you'll get off, okay?"
"Okay." Trish obviously wasn't convinced.
"Let's see if I remember how to do this." Fred knelt behind Trish,
split her outer labia with his thumbs like a peach, and swiped his tongue
upward from her clitoral hood to her anus.
"Oooohh!!" Trish was galvanized. Her eyes popped.
"Like that, did ya?" Fred asked -- and did it again.
Beth slowly, quietly, undid the latch to the upper gloryhole and
locked the cover up, then peered out. Terence and Damian's father had his
face in Trish's crotch -- and the look on her face was priceless!
Fred went to town on Trish's hot, sweet young pussy for about thirty
seconds, sucking her clit and lapping her juices and tickling her anus with
his tongue. Trish's fists clenched and the muscles in her arms were rigid
but her ass was anchored in place; she wouldn't move it for fear he might
miss something after that first amazing ten seconds. Fred popped up and
asked, "So, do you like that, Sweet Thang? Want any more?"
Trish, who had been busy exclaiming, "Oh! Oh! Omigawd! Omigawd!"
switched to "Yes! Yes! Please!"
"Told ya we were gonna have fun..." Fred dove back in again, and
stayed at it until Trish screamed and her pussy lips fluttered and her love
tunnel gripped at his tongue. "See? Y'all can cum," Fred declared,
obviously pleased with himself. "Awright, we're goin' for the main event --
but you're all warmed up and I'm gonna take it easy, okay?"
"O--okay." Trish didn't have time to tense up before the blunt head
of Fred's cock settled against her opening; a quick snap of his hips and it
was past the outer defenses.
"We gonna hold up here until you're ready for more, Sweet Thang,"
Fred announced. "Let me know..." Trish's initial response was to whimper
and dance a bit, but in a moment she started trying to push back toward him,
hampered by her restraints. Fred took the hint and began slowly feeding her
his length.
Due to the situation, Fred's usual bad attitude was by the wayside
-- and whatever his other problems, he really had none as a cocksman. Trish
learned this first-hand as he paced himself and worked his length into her
in phases while setting up a nice steady stroke, feeding her more length as
she was able to take it. Very quickly, he was going from tip on lips to
balls deep, every stroke. And the noises Trish was making were NOT
complaints! "I think we got a winner, here!" he grunted.
If Trish limited herself to incoherent grunts and the occasional
"Oh, God!" it wasn't because she was saving excess mental capacity for
anything; basically, she wasn't capable of much else, once Fred really got
going. The grunts rose to impassioned shrieks on three occasions over the
next six minutes; Fred let her pussy suck his nut out of him on that third
pass, holding himself deep while it seemed like he poured three months worth
of baby juice into her hot cunt.
Trish would have fallen down if she could; the fuck -- well, it
didn't quite match Randy because there had been a certain intensity to him
-- but it was DAMNED CLOSE! This one was everything the nasty mechanic
experience wasn't, and she'd enjoyed it an amazing amount for someone locked
in some kind of torture device... She moaned as his cock popped free and
his cum, poured down her thigh.
"Did ya have a good time, Sweet Thang?" Fred asked.
"Oh, God!" Trish gasped.
"That'd be a yes?"
"UH HUH!" The plastic cone waggled up and down.
"You gimme a few and I might be up for a second pass," Fred pointed
out. "That be okay with you?"
"Okay!" Trish agreed, breathless but enthusiastic.
Only then did Fred notice the eyeball at the gloryhole. "What the
fuck is that?" he asked.