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Subject: {ASSM} [New] Sandcastles - Ch 01-10 (MF MFF Bond Rom) - Sndcsl01.txt (1/1)
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THE USUAL WARNINGS:

This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind.  If you
are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or
unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this
type of material is illegal where you are, don't read
any further.

This is a fantasy.  You will have to loosen your clench
on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in
which physical acts and human responses are not limited
to, nor necessarily based in, reality.  Some acts and
responses in this story may be physically impossible
and/or physiologically improbable.

Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this
newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful -
gorgeous, even.  Gravity has not caused breasts to
droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces.  The
men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.
They can get it up and keep it up often and at will.
In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs,
morals, or unwanted pregnancies.  Guilt is a four-
letter word.  Most important of all, neither strength
of character, courage of convictions, nor moral belief
stand a chance against any erotic stimulus.  This can
be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle
or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals.

For those of you who didn't understand the preceding
statements, GO AWAY!

This story is intended for the salacious entertainment
of consenting adults.  Do not try to do any of the
things described in this story.  You could injure
yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her
father....

If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY!  This story
will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.

If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited
where you are, GO AWAY!

By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility
for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure
that results from reading this story.  If you don't, GO
AWAY!

You have been warned!

If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on
a <free> site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for
it.

So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy
the story!....:)

NightShade

















Sandcastles

by NightShade
Chapter 1

It had been a really rough day. The crying children and
screaming parents hadn't been the worst of it. You get
that at little league games and parent/teacher
conferences all the time. What had made this particular
day so rough was the silence. It was the kind of
catatonic listlessness that could suck the love right
out of you as you helplessly watched a young girl
teeter on the brink between a life-long series of
nightmares and fears or of taking the beginning steps
in the long process of recovery. That is, if you can
call what a woman's life becomes after being on the
receiving end of a brutal sexual assault a 'recovery.'
I had looked helplessly into vacant eyes that just
yesterday had been full of sparkle and hope and more
than a touch of mischief, now dulled without a glimmer
of life or vitality.

I lay sleepless in bed with Sally, my girlfriend of
about 18 months after that seemingly endless night at
the hospital, of filling out medical forms, insurance
forms, police forms, and so on. Everybody wanted
details. I shuddered to think of all the closet
perverts who would have access to the lurid details of
the gruesome incident. I wondered which of those
innocent records would turn up later to continue to
ruin her life. Having exhausted all the sheep I could
count, I masochistically reviewed the events of the
past 12 or so hours as I tried to fall asleep.

***

Janey had tried to slip into the house unnoticed, home
early from her date. She was my girlfriend's daughter
and had been her 15th birthday. Sally had reluctantly
agreed to let her 'baby' go on her first real date, as
her rule had always been no 'couple' dates until Janey
was 16 years old. This time there would be no other
couple, no chaperones. Just the two kids. There would
be others at the party, and then, well, whatever. Sally
should have listened to her fears. The date had been a
disaster.

We were waiting up for Janey to get home. We, Sally,
actually, had a surprise birthday gift to give her,
along with a cake and a candle. I benefited from this
special occasion as well, as I got to spend the night
with Sally, an unusual liberty for a weekday. Even
after 18 months of serious dating, Sally still held me
at arm's length and I normally only saw Janey when our
weekend schedules collided at the house. Janey was an
active teenager in her first year of High School,
popular, pretty, and vivacious. It seemed every second
of her life was a flurry of activity, so she was gone
much of the time.

I sometimes thought that if it weren't for Sally's
strong sexual needs, and her own recognition of them,
she wouldn't have let anyone - much less me - into her
life at all. Don't get me wrong. She was loving,
sensual, caring, and, honestly, the best lover I could
ever want. Certainly, she was by far the best woman I
had ever had the pleasure of loving. Nothing was out of
bounds, sexually at least, and things were heading
towards a more permanent arrangement. At least, I
sincerely hoped so.

But there was always a wall that kept me from getting
too close or too comfortable, a barrier I couldn't get
through, over or around. Sally, although she admitted
it was there, simply wouldn't discuss it. The two weeks
of gentle, but firm celibacy that were sure to follow
each time I brought it up, with the threat of a
permanently celibate status if I ever brought it up
again, let me know in no uncertain terms that the
matter was off limits. I was left with the assumption
that someone, probably a man, had hurt her terribly. I
was pretty sure I was in the clear, but I was
definitely paying the price for the bastard's deed.

Hearing the front door open and quietly close, and the
'beep beep' of the alarm being set, we sneaked down the
hall bearing our gifts, cake and a lighted candle. We
sprang into the teenager's darkened bedroom with shouts
of "Surprise!" The strained melody of an off-key duet
of "Happy Birthday to You" died out as we both saw her
at the same instant. Janey was curled in a tiny ball on
the floor at the foot of her bed.

I caught the wrapped gift, the cake and the candle that
were tossed in my general direction as Sally moved
instinctively to hold her daughter. Janey was covered
in blood, mostly from the stomach down, the sticky red
streaks thicker on the inside of her legs. The bodice
of her pretty new party dress was missing a couple of
buttons, and the one sleeve I could see was torn. Her
birthday dress was ruined.

I was already headed down the hall for the telephone
when I heard Sally's crisp "Call 9-1-1." I had always
admired her for that. Unlike most women I had known,
she didn't fall apart in a crisis. She stayed calm,
took charge, assessed the situation, made the hard
decisions and never doubted them. Even afterwards, she
wouldn't doubt the decisions she had made during a
crisis. I knew, and more importantly, Janey knew, that
Sally would take care of Janey now.

Several things went through my head as to what type of
accident could have caused her injuries. Call me
innocent, ignorant or na<ve, but a traumatic rape was
not even on my list of possibilities. It just didn't
enter my mind. It is not something I would do under any
circumstances, and I guess I just expected other
civilized men to behave in a similar manner towards
women. Especially the women I loved.

Sally must have known how I would react to the news she
was about to break, as she waited to tell me until we
were alone in one of those family rooms they have at
hospitals with no windows and only one door. She had
found me sitting in those horribly uncomfortable chairs
designed to increase patient traffic at chiropractic
offices. She stood with her back to the only exit,
blocking me in the room. I looked up at her, hoping she
was going to rescue me from the mindless fare of cable
network news and 5 year old magazines. I had listened
through three or four repetitions of the tops news
stories of the day. Today's hot news was the annual
governor's congress in Washington, D.C. and their
concern over the recent sharp rise in missing
teenagers, mostly girls, apparently runaways.

I had been brutally stunned as Sally quietly informed
me that the police were sending over a specialist in
sexual assaults to talk with Janey and us about the
attack. Janey had been raped. She told me later that my
reaction had severely frightened her. She grudgingly
admitted that she had underestimated the depth and
strength of my feelings. She knew I cared about Janey,
and that I would be upset. She was unprepared for my
reaction. I was livid, horrified. It was extremely
personal. Even more, I was in a murderous rage I
couldn't and didn't want to shake off.

I now understood justifiable homicide. If I am ever
honored to be selected for a jury trial of a parent who
killed or maimed the person who had injured their
child, I will vote not to convict, but to award a Medal
of Honor to that parent.

Funny thing, I didn't see red when I had heard what had
happened to Janey. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. It
was simply as if a switch had been flipped and the
whole world had just stopped existing. My only thought
was to avenge that innocent little girl's pain. It was
the first time Sally had seen me cry, but I don't
remember. I'll take her word for it.

Sally calmly continued to say that the hospital staff
was surprised that most of the blood on Janey had not
been her own, but apparently the attacker's. Janey had
a few ugly bruises, and had some bleeding from
abrasions in and around her vaginal area. She had been
brutally penetrated, their words, but there was no
semen present. Both the OB/GYN and the emergency
physician thought she would heal in time. Physically,
anyway.

Seeing my blank, uncomprehending stare and my tight
grip on the arms of the chair, she told me what she had
been able to put together of the events that had
transpired on her daughter's birthday.

Janey's date, Steven, was a big hotshot football player
a couple of years older than Janey. They had met
because he was a star player and she was a cheerleader.
As a freshman, she was the youngest girl on the squad
by two years. She was smart, talented and friendly to
everyone. From the first day of school, Janey had been
besieged with requests for dates, which she had
graciously turned down. She knew her Mom's rule.

Although she had to refuse to go on the dates, Janey
had that gracious ability to make each of her suitors
feel glad just to know her. She somehow sensed the
emotional trauma a rejection could cause a teenage male
ego and she let them know that she was the one who was
privileged to have been asked out. The guys she turned
down liked her more after than before. She was
developing quite a following for a freshman. She was
levelheaded about the attention; not what you would
call boy-crazy, although there were some boys that made
her heart beat a just little faster when they called
the house. However, all her other girlfriends were
seriously infected with that peculiar teenage disease,
and Janey sort of went along.

Peer pressure is a terrible force in a teen's life,
and, because of her status as a cheerleader, Janey was
'expected' to date, among other things, as we were to
discover shortly. When Steven asked her out for a
special birthday party in her honor, she felt not only
honored, but also somewhat obligated to ask her Mom for
permission to go. She and her Mom had a long-standing
agreement that Janey would not date 'solo' until she
was 16, but her persistence wore down Sally's
resistance. She was allowed to go this one time, with
the explicit understanding that this was an exception,
a one time only deal.

The date had started innocently. It was a party,
supposedly in her honor at the head cheerleader's home,
whose parents were conveniently 'out.' The punch, later
discovered to be spiked, had flowed freely. It was only
because of Janey's nervousness that she had only had
one glass. Steven had quite a few, as had the rest of
the revelers.

Because it was a school night, curfew for Janey was
11:00 p.m. and they left the party about 9:00. Steven
had driven to a popular make-out spot, deserted because
it was a weekday, and had tried to kiss her. At first
she was flattered, thrilled that the popular older boy
she admired was paying her all this attention. However,
when he made a rough grab at her breasts, bruising the
tender flesh and drunkenly tearing her sleeve, she told
him to stop and that she wanted to go home. Now. Janey
was frightened, but not stupid, and several things
about the evening just didn't add up. Suddenly
realizing the whole evening had been a sham to get her
alone with this boy-turned-animal added to the guilt
she felt afterward.

Surprisingly, the boy had backed off right away,
started the car and left the make-out area. She relaxed
just a bit, thinking she may have been wrong about him
and the odd events at the party. She always thought the
best about people and she gave him the benefit of the
doubt. The damage to her dress was minimal and no one
would see her breasts. She was already beginning to put
this evening behind her.

Janey and her Mom live out in the country a ways, close
enough to be convenient, far enough away to be left
alone by all but the most determined salesmen. On the
road to the house, just before the turnoff into the
long driveway, there is a dark stretch of road that
parallels the river. All along this stretch there are
private, isolated spots where you can pull just a few
feet off the road, and your car is all but hidden from
passersby. Steven pulled into one of those suddenly,
and turned to his surprised passenger.

He hadn't even waited for her to resist before he
slapped her several times across the face. Whether the
hard blows stunned her or knocked her out wasn't clear.
The next thing she remembered, she was flat on her back
on the ground next to the car with her party dress
bunched up under her armpits. Her bra had been pulled
down around her waist, the straps ripped off. The force
of pulling it down had dug the straps deeply into her
shoulders before they snapped, bruising the tender
skin.

She felt pain. Steven was mauling and biting her tits,
causing terrible pains to shoot from the sensitive
organs. There was a particularly sharp rock poking her
in her left shoulder blade and another one right in the
small of her back. With his additional 240 pounds
pressing down on top of her, the rocks were really
digging in.

The most intense pain came from between her legs. With
no preliminaries, Steven had ripped her panties down
her legs and shoved his prick into her virgin pussy.
The damage done was not due to his size. He had only
been 3, maybe 4 inches long when erect and not real
thick - a true 'pencil dick.' His penis size didn't
match his ego and it may have contributed to his
frustrations with his life. Never having learned to
deal with his own inadequacies, he covered them by
bullying people and forcing himself on others.

The damage had been due to Janey being tight and dry.
His angle had been off, as well as his aim, plus he had
used excessive force when he finally did manage to find
the virgin mouth of her vagina. The OB/GYN estimated he
must have made 10-15 forceful stabs before finding the
hole and gaining entrance, as Janey was bruised all
over, including the area around her anus. Apparently,
the boy's frustrations had increased to a frantic
level, and when he found an opening or anything closely
resembling one, he rammed his prick in with all of his
considerable strength. I shudder to think what would
have happened to her had she been conscious and moving
about.

Sally had talked with Janey about sex, and boys, and
the difference between love and sex. She had also
included talks about rape, so Janey figured out pretty
quick what was going on. Like her mother, she kept her
wits about her, even in this terrifying situation.

In spite of the pain she was in, she first took stock
of her surroundings. Turning her head to the side, she
could see the open door of the car, the dome light
casting a dim illumination on the crime scene. She
could see her torn panties hanging like a trophy on the
rear view mirror, and, strangely, his slacks and shorts
folded neatly on the car seat.

A desperate plan formed in her mind. Again, like her
mother, she made a decision and implemented the plan.
She began 'ooohhhing' and 'aaaaahhing' in his ear. Her
hips, painful though it was for her, thrust up to meet
his. Although she had never fucked before, she
responded with the natural rhythms of a fertile female
in heat. The blood oozing from the tears in her vagina
lubricated her brutal mating with the rapist somewhat,
convincing him she was responding to his efforts.

When he saw what she was doing, he had laughed at her,
thinking she was responding to his rape like the slut
he thought all women were. He said as much, calling her
a slut, a whore and a bitch. His callous words would
hurt her more and for a longer time than the injuries
he was inflicting, but right then they steeled her
resolve to go through with her plan.

With much panting and moaning, Janey convinced him to
go at her from behind. Again, it wasn't clear if she
was offering him her asshole to cum in so she wouldn't
get pregnant, or simply to do it 'doggie style.' It
wasn't important. She just knew she needed him to get
off her and let her get up for a split second.

He let her stand up and she wasted no time putting her
plan into action. Sally had dragged me to the
occasional Friday night high school ball game where I
had seen Janey doing the energetic cheerleading
routines, jumping around excitedly in her short skirt
and tight sweater. I had seen how high she could kick,
practically doing the splits standing up, her foot
ending well above her head. Most guys underestimate
just how much energy goes into cheerleading, how toned
and muscled those young women have to be to perform at
that level for two to three hours straight. I had seen
just a few of the hours of practice Janey and the
others put in when I had spent the occasional weekend
at Sally's. Steven had not.

As soon as Janey got up, she stepped up to him, making
it look as if she wanted to kiss him on the cheek
before getting down on her hands and knees. She leaned
her full firm breasts into him during the kiss, pushing
him off balance a bit. Instinctively, he steadied
himself against this unexpected, but lovely pressure.
His legs automatically spread to about shoulder width
apart to keep his balance. That was the opening she
needed. Like most men dealing with an angry woman,
Steven never knew what hit him.

Janey turned as if to face away from him, appearing to
be getting down into position to continue fucking. Then
suddenly, she wheeled and with all the force in her
long, tight legs and with all the murderous anger in
her heart, she brought her foot up into his groin.
Straight legged. Her aim was dead on, just slightly to
the right of center. He must have lifted several inches
off the ground.

Janey said there was no sound. He did not cry out. The
only sounds in the still night air, other than his
escaping breath, was the squish of a mashing testicle
and the soft pop of a ruptured penis. He dropped like a
stone where he stood.

Janey then did something that amazed every adult, other
than Steven's parents, who heard of it. Rather than
running away, leaving him there to bleed to death, she
got his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. On the playback of
the tape, you could hear Janey, who didn't identify
herself, calmly tell the operator exactly where the
injured person was and the extent of his injuries.
After the call she rolled up his slacks and shorts as a
pillow for his head, walked a short distance away to
where she could see but not be seen, waited until she
saw the ambulance arrive, then finished walking the
short distance home.

I continued to stare wordlessly at Sally as her tale
came to a close. I had slowly come to my senses
somewhere in the middle when she had said Janey would
be OK physically. The physical injuries to the boy
mitigated some of my murderous rage towards him. I no
longer wanted to kill him, but I seriously resented his
one surviving testicle. Even one ball was too much for
that raping bastard. The thought flickered through my
mind about how much it would take to bribe the surgeon
to make a tiny slip with the scalpel and finish the
job. In talking with the surgeon later, a woman with a
teenaged daughter of her own, she admitted she was
sorry she had not known the details of his 'accident'
prior to her repair work on him in the OR. She had been
told it was an auto accident. She coldly admitted she
would have done it for nothing. Off the record, of
course.

As I watched Sally finish telling me the events of the
night, I became aware of a dangerous level of emotional
tension inside her, bordering on exhaustion. Mentally
chastising myself for my incredible thoughtlessness and
selfishness, I began to consider how she had to be
feeling. She was ready to split apart with fear and
anger, but felt she had to be strong and hold together
for Janey. She couldn't let go until Janey was out of
danger, or until she could hand off responsibility to
someone else. I felt the most important thing I could
do for both of them was to focus on Sally and try to
ease her pain and anguish. I held my arms open to her,
inviting her into them.

Sally looked up at me, and I realized then that she had
not looked me in the eye throughout the whole
recitation. As I looked into those beautiful blue eyes,
I saw her pain and anger, which I expected to see. I
also saw hate. It was a bitter, acrid hate inclusive of
all males, including me. It took a supreme effort, but
I didn't flinch when I realized her state of mind nor
did I take back the open-armed invitation of a hug. I
was well aware I had just invited a madwoman bent on
killing or seriously hurting something or someone to
come stand next to my unprotected body.

Sally didn't move for a long moment, leaving us frozen
in that estranged tableau. Then, with a small step, she
moved in my direction. Hoping she wouldn't notice, I
took a small step towards her, closing my legs in the
process and turning my hips slightly to the side. I
wasn't sure how far that 'like mother, like daughter'
thing went. It wouldn't protect my privates against a
hard driving knee, but it was better than singing
soprano. Permanently.

Continuing to glare hatefully into my eyes, she small-
stepped into my arms, ending with her face upturned. It
was not a face I particularly wanted to kiss at that
moment, but it was definitely one that needed it. As I
lowered my defenseless face towards that venomous
expression, I mentally pictured my lips being shredded
by those fine sharp white teeth that had teasingly
tormented me so many times during sex play. Call me a
fool, but I ignored warning signs that would have made
a sane man make out a Last Will and Testament. I skated
out onto the thin ice with abandon. Without hesitation.
Hell, I was in love with the woman.

Miraculously, I felt no immediate pain. I thought that
maybe my senses were dulled by the lateness of the hour
and the uncomfortable hospital chairs. I was resigned
to being the punching bag for her to vent her anger,
and I knew she was capable of doing almost anything in
her current frame of mind. Her quivering body was as
tense as a bowstring as my arms slowly enfolded her to
hold her gently, but firmly against my racing heart. It
felt as if I was holding an atomic bomb, and I was
probably about as safe. I put my body at her disposal
for her to vent her anger on as she saw fit.

My lips lightly brushed her dry ones. That kiss was not
in the least bit sexual. Too much fear, pain and sorrow
were around us right now. I was simply making myself a
sacrificial offering on the altar of her vengeance.
Believe me, it was a ritual of trust. Hopefully, it
would be a bloodless ritual.

Warm, wet, salty. I tasted it tentatively. Not blood.
Only slightly relieved, I opened my tightly clenched
eyes, apparently having squeezed them shut in
anticipation and preparation of bearing much pain. Her
eyes were closed, too. And leaking. Her tears began as
a trickle, but soon flooded her face and my chest. No
sobs, no hysteria. Just tears. My tears mingled with
hers.

I don't know how long we stood like that, but the
police officer in charge of the investigation finally
found us to let us know they had been able to
corroborate Janey's account of the evening's events.
Startled, we asked why they would need to be
corroborated. He filled us in on the latest sick twist
in the story.

Steven's parents, his father a big-shot lawyer, his
mother high on the social ladder and forever clawing
her way higher, had filed 'Assault and Battery' charges
against Janey, even before they knew the details of
what had happened. They were insistent upon filing them
and wanted Janey arrested and held in the juvenile
section county jail. The police were helpless to do
otherwise and were going to arrest her until they found
Janey's blood at the scene, right where she said the
rape had happened. With that, and some other things,
that supported her story, the cops held off.

Tests showed that Steven's blood alcohol level was over
the legal limit for an adult, way over for an underage
driver. Testimony from witnesses at the faux-party
unknowingly supported Janey. The partygoers made their
damaging statements thinking Steven had 'scored' with
her. The torn panties on the mirror were identified by
them as blue before anyone at the party should have
known. Actually, the partygoers had made snide remarks
about Janey 'crying rape' even before our 911 call had
been made. Alcohol and lies don't mix.

His parents had weakened under the weight of the
evidence, but the clincher was when the surgeon sewing
him up pulled a rather large chunk of foreign tissue
out of his piss hole. Tissue typing proved it was a
piece of her cherry. The force with which he had rammed
into her had shoved a torn fragment of her hymen way up
inside of his urethra. As he hadn't ejaculated, it was
still there.

There was no way it wasn't rape. There was no way it
wasn't self-defense on her part. There was no way their
spoiled little boy wasn't going to jail, with or
without Janey's testimony. The pretty-faced 18-year-old
pencil-dick was going to make someone a nice
'girlfriend' at the State Penitentiary. The rookie
officer, apparently having experienced the father in
court on previous cases, seemed smugly pleased with
that part of the outcome.

The ride home in the wee hours was quiet. Sally bundled
Janey into the house, a hot bath and bed, seemingly in
one continuous motion. She never left Janey alone but
didn't crowd her. It wasn't until Janey was soundly
asleep that Sally crawled into bed beside me.

Like I said, it had been a rough day.

Chapter 2

If I thought the night before had been rough, the next
couple of days made what happened then almost seem like
a vacation. Almost. Sally was so preoccupied with Janey
she could think of nothing else. Janey, for her part,
apparently couldn't think at all. She wouldn't react,
wouldn't talk, and wouldn't move. She just lay there.
Sally was able to clean her gently every day, although
only behind a locked door, and gently force a few bites
of food down her, but other than that, nothing.

I was beginning to be very afraid for Sally. Hell, I
was afraid for both of them. I was able, after a couple
of days, to spell Sally on her vigil beside Janey's
bed, but only after I promised to sit out of Janey's
direct line of sight. Sally was adamant about that. If
Janey woke up, I was to get Sally immediately and not
let Janey see me.

I didn't fully understand it, but apparently it was
possible for Janey to transfer her hate for Steven and
what he had done to her to all things male, including
me. It hurt me terribly. Not as much as she was
hurting, obviously, but I couldn't understand how I,
who cared for her and loved her, could be lumped in
with all the rest.

The first night that I sat in for Sally passed
uneventfully. Janey didn't stir once. The doctor had
been there earlier in the day, along with a rape
counselor, and both Janey and Sally were resting
comfortably with the aid of mild sedatives. It was a
long night, and, I am not ashamed to admit, I took
advantage of the solitude and darkness as I shed more
than a few tears over the shattered girl.

The next day I asked the counselor if it would be OK to
talk to Janey. Since she wasn't responding very much,
and would be sedated anyway, would it help or hurt? The
harried lady shrugged and said it probably couldn't
hurt. As long as she didn't react violently to the
sound of my voice, it might actually help. I thought
that an odd statement, but I decided to try to talk to
Janey during the night.

That night I sat by her bed, a little closer than the
night before. I started speaking very softly, hoping
not to startle her, which I didn't. I talked to her
about lots of things. I tried to go through every
memory I had of her, every time we had together. I told
her what she was wearing, who she had been with and
what was said. I told her of the pride and admiration I
felt when I watched her perform at her games. I
recounted each and every game and competition where I
had seen her. Then I started going through the meals we
had shared. And so on. I was amazed at all the details
I could recall about this girl I had watched grow into
a young woman.

Towards morning, after about seven to eight hours of
speaking quietly to her, I sensed a change in her. At
first I thought she had moved and was about to go get
her Mom, but then I noticed she was still asleep. She
seemed to be breathing easier, but how I would I know
that? I didn't analyze it a lot, but somehow, I
instinctively knew that Janey was going to be OK. It
was like I could sense her feelings or her aura or some
shit. Weird, I know.

It was during this time of slow recovery that all Hell
broke loose. The news of Janey's incident made the
local, state, and eventually the national news. It hit
the national news wires after the half-assed local
police investigation accidentally found that this had
been an organized plot involving several other
students. Due to the political connections of some of
the alleged participant's parents, the local police
panicked and the FBI was called in. They used the
excuse that this had been an attempted kidnapping.

What the local police had uncovered was that it had
been a contest for money. The prize was several
thousands of dollars, but with the money these kids
had, that was secondary. Winning, at any price, was
number one. Apparently, all the male athletes - the
jocks - put $100 a piece into a pot at the beginning of
each school year. It was not an option. No one was
forced to participate in the actual contest, but they
didn't stay healthy very long if they didn't
contribute. The first jock to fuck all twelve of that
year's cheerleaders won the pot.

Janey, being a freshman, was the only conquest left for
two of the guys, one of whom was Steven. The other boy
had been making considerable headway with Janey at
school, actually going through the motions of courting
and wooing her. I had heard his name mentioned in
reverent tones at the dinner table, and a telephone
call from him was a reason for excited tittering
between the mother and daughter. His apparent progress
with the beautiful girl had infuriated Steven,
prompting him to set up the birthday party scam for
Janey.

When pressed by the professionals at the FBI, Steven
cracked like a true wuss, and gave up all the names of
the organizers and the participants. He even had a list
on his computer complete with names, dates and if the
event had been 'voluntary' or 'involuntary'. There were
a remarkable number of involuntary notations, meaning
'rapes', and that had caused an even greater uproar, as
most had never been reported. The few that had been
reported to the local police or school counselors had
been dismissed as post-coital regrets.

But it was not just the guys involved. There was
jealousy on the part of some of the girls that prompted
their participation, too. Steven implicated three of
the cheerleaders for setting up the party, providing
the booze, and verifying what color panties Janey had
been wearing that night. The girl's panties were
considered to be proof in the case of an involuntary
score, and they had been pretty sure Janey was not
going to participate voluntarily. So knowing what color
or pattern of panties she was wearing was key to
verifying the 'trophy' was from the victim. One
cheerleader had walked into the guest bathroom at the
party when Janey was peeing, her panties down around
her ankles. Janey was sure the door had been locked,
but, as the girl had OOP'sed her way back out of the
bathroom, she had just guessed the lock was broken and
had let it pass.

There were arrests and expulsions, some permanent. They
involved most of the popular kids, the 'in' crowd. The
'untouchables' had been touched. Hard. Most of them
blamed Janey, and they were bitter. Most of them
wouldn't graduate, at least, from this High School.

Then, to make a bad situation a catastrophe, someone,
probably some low-level employee from the hospital, had
leaked Steven's hospital chart to a sleazy tabloid.
There wasn't a male in America who didn't wince just a
little when his injuries were described in graphic
detail. The tabloid shouted it out in full color, with
charts and graphs showing the force of impact required
to do what had been done to his popped testicle and
ruptured penis by her solid kick to his groin. He got a
lot of sympathy from that report, as if his injuries
somehow made the two of them even. A surprising number
of females were sympathetic to him as well.

As more news leaked and broke over the weekend, it grew
rapidly into a media spectacle. Janey had withdrawn
into herself and didn't know any of this was going on.
But Sally knew and I knew. Sally had to take care of
Janey and couldn't deal with this. Me? I got mad, then
I started kicking ass and taking names. Literally.

We disconnected all the phones but the one in the back
guestroom after several threats had been made on
Janey's life, not to mention the countless obscene
phone calls. The list of the names we collected from
the Caller ID on that phone included some very
interesting ones. The calls were all recorded on a
system similar to the 9-1-1 calls. The FBI was doing
voiceprints and matching some surprising names to the
voices. Heads were going to roll, some from very high
places.

Considering several of the worst calls originated from
the telephones of those whose job it was to 'protect
and serve' us all, it was a good thing the house was
set well back from the road, and had a well-defined
perimeter fence around the large property. The
governor, a personal friend of mine, brought in the
National Guard to 'help' the local police keep an eye
on the property after I shared some of the selected
names on my Caller ID list with him. The new, heavily
armed troops added to the complicated chain-of-command
and jurisdictional issues, not to mention the feeding
frenzy of the so-called news media, but the phone calls
did quiet down a bit.

Then some asshole leaked Janey's name and address to
the press along with a home video showing her doing one
of her trademark kicks. Overnight, she became known as
"The high-kicking cheerleader" in the media. Her
picture and that video clip was played prominently at
the top, bottom and in the middle of every broadcast
hour, usually accompanied by the music from "The
Nutcracker Suite." The heartless jackals were at our
gates within minutes of the leak. News, tabloids,
paparazzi, women's rights groups, protesters,
spectators, helicopters, bullhorns, and, believe it or
not, a burning cross. The death-threats on the
telephone had been easier to deal with.

Sally came apart. I went ballistic. Not one to sit idly
by and watch this thing destroy these two women's
lives, I made several calls to some very high-priced
lawyers in New York, old friends of my father's from
his law practice. Every, and I mean every, last fucking
one of the registered media in the entire nation
received a registered letter from that law firm. The
letter explained exactly what would happen and how much
it would cost them personally and corporately if
Janey's name, likeness, or personal information were
broadcast, printed, or hinted after their receipt of
that registered letter, even if it was by mistake or
oversight.

The letter explained this was not a matter of
censorship and that they were free to report on the
events of this case, the same as any other similar
case. The girl was, however, a minor with legal rights
to anonymity. She had committed no crime, was not
charged with one, would not be charged with one, and
wished simply to be left alone. To help them remember,
the letter also mentioned several similar cases that
had not made headlines, but about which the entire
media industry was aware, where this particular law
firm had won huge awards from overly aggressive 'news'
organizations.

You could tell almost to the minute when the letters
hit the corporate offices of the major news media and
their legal departments confirmed the essential
elements of the legal situation. The smarter legal guys
probably pointed out that because of the warning
letter, any infraction would likely result in an award
far surpassing the previous multimillion dollar
amounts. Suddenly, everybody wanted to be somewhere
else, in a hurry. Watching their remote broadcast
vehicles scramble to leave the front gates reminded me
of the old Keystone Kops movies.

There were reports of several stations turning off
their signals that day in the middle of a broadcast
story, leaving several minutes of "Technical
Difficulty" screens. Of course, a couple of hard-liners
didn't listen, including one sensationalistic talk show
host, and surprisingly, one major network. They all
went bankrupt from the lawsuits, paying for the legal
expenses, and it didn't help when the FCC immediately
rescinded their broadcast licenses, effectively
stopping any further repetition of Janey's name in the
news. The other news agencies were very circumspect
after that. It's nice to have a sister who just happens
to be a Federal Judge in Washington, D.C.

I think how I handled that media mess managed to
impress Sally, who saw me from a whole new perspective.
Sharing your Rolodex is not something you normally do
when dating, even after 18 months. The restored calm
around the house and city allowed her to gather her
wits back together, and she was able to re-focus on
helping her daughter get well.

I continued to sit with Janey at night. After the first
three nights things had gotten pretty routine. I sat, I
talked, and she slept. The next night looked to be
going pretty much the same, except I was getting tired.
The emotional drain was taking its toll on all of us,
even me. The evening started out with me reminiscing. I
covered the same topics over and over every night. I
figured, what the Hell, she's asleep anyway.

I don't remember dozing off, but I awoke with a start
and saw Janey lying there, staring at me. Worse, I was
touching her. More accurately, she was holding onto my
finger with her hand. I had been having vivid dreams,
of happy times, but always under a cloud or shadow.

"Oh, you're awake. I'll go get your Mom."

In response, I got a quick shake of her head and a
tightened grasp on my finger. She apparently didn't
want me to go. I wracked my groggy brain for what to
do.

"OK. Do you need anything like a drink of water or
something to eat?"

She dismissed the idea with another quick head shake.

"I'm sorry to wake you up. Was I snoring?" I tried a
feeble laugh, but Janey just kept looking at me. Now
that I looked closer, I noticed she had a wary look on
her face. Not knowing what else to do, I just sat
quietly with her. It was still early; Sally wouldn't be
awake for hours.

"I thought you were mad at me, but you're not, are
you." It was a statement.

Those were her first words to me in nearly a week. I
nearly fell out of the chair. "Why would I be mad at
you?"

"I dunno. But you were mad, really mad, at someone,
weren't you?"

I thought back on the idiots that had surrounded the
house and hounded Sally and me. Janey had been out of
it during that time. How could she have known?

"Some people were bothering us a little. They're gone
now," I responded.

A while later, "Do you really like that blue outfit I
wore to school last week? I think it makes me look
old."

Now I was really confused. In all my ramblings to her
the past four nights I had avoided any reference to her
appearance, or being sexy, or her body. That was on the
advice of the rape counselor. She mentioned that rape
victims take a tremendous blow to their self-esteem and
that I shouldn't talk about her appearance or anything
to do with her body.

However, I had been dreaming of her in that blue outfit
just before I woke up. It was her dark blue blazer with
a matching pleated skirt that made her look like a
smart young professional businesswoman. I had had a
dream of her standing in front of a crowd, giving a
speech or lecture. What I remember was feeling proud of
her and everything she had accomplished. I had never
talked to her about it, though.

"Oh, was I talking in my sleep?"

She gave me that puzzled look, like I didn't know
something I should have, that look teenagers reserve
for their ignorant parents and siblings, then said,
"Well, kind of."

Janey sat up in bed, propping her pillows behind her. I
didn't try to help her, as that would have meant
touching her. As normal as she sounded, I didn't think
she was ready for that. Unusual for her, she pulled the
covers clear up to her chin, covering her body
completely. When she was settled in an upright
position, she did slip her hand out of the covers and
recapture my finger, so I stayed where I was. We didn't
talk anymore. We just sat in silence, each of us with
our own thoughts.

Sally found us like that in the morning, and
immediately burst into tears. They were happy ones,
though.

Chapter 3

I was still awake when Sally gently lifted the covers
and slid her naked body underneath. It was our first
'normal' night in over a week, with both of us in bed
at the same time. Janey was sleeping comfortably now,
and with their link, Sally would be awake at the first
sign of trouble.

At first, Sally stayed completely on the far side of
the bed, not wanting contact, or perhaps not wanting to
wake me. After restlessly tossing about for a while,
unable to get comfortable, or maybe just making sure I
was awake, she edged closer, finally moving her
gorgeous ass into me 'spoon fashion.' Now, under normal
circumstances, when she came to bed naked and backed
into me like that, it was a signal for a night of wild
sex. Even though we had gone a long week without any
sort of sexual relief, somehow I didn't think that was
what she wanted tonight, and, fortunately, my dick
behaved for once and didn't try to poke into her
uncharacteristically unreceptive body. Self-
preservation runs deep in my family.

I figured with all the bouncing around she had been
doing that she wanted me to be awake, so I moved my arm
over her and drew her close. Her large, firm tits,
normally so convenient in that position, went
unmolested as we cuddled. She gave a deep sigh and
snuggled firmly into my body, savoring the simple skin-
to-skin contact she shared with me all along her back
from shoulders to toes. I expected more tears. She just
sighed.

Sally was still in crisis mode and her mind was going a
thousand miles an hour. So was mine. Several minutes -
hours? - passed in silence.

"Larry? You awake?"

"Uh-huh." I hesitated, not knowing which direction to
go. I took the safe route.

"So do you think Janey's going to be OK?"

I could feel her nod. "Yes. The doctors said by Monday
she could go back to school with full activities. The
counselor agreed too. She said the sooner she goes back
the better."

"Monday? So soon? But...?" I let the unspoken question
hang there. She didn't answer it.

Sally was quiet for a long time. I had almost given up
continuing the conversation and, in all truth, I was
content just to hold her. Skin on skin was something I
could get used to, especially when it was hers and
mine. Under the circumstances, the closeness had a
healing, bonding effect on me. I hoped she was feeling
the same things. Comfortable with these sensations, I
almost missed it when she continued.

"Larry, you know how much I like sex."

Huh? This came from out the blue, from left field, from
nowhere. My bewilderment must have been obvious, even
in the dark. I could almost feel her grinning at my
confusion.

"You must have realized by now, Larry, that I have a
much higher than normal sexual appetite. I always have.
I have been aware of it since I first learned boys and
girls were different. It was difficult, especially when
I was Janey's age, but I never let it control me, or
determine my actions. Influence, yes, sometimes
unwisely, but determine, no. Sex has been one of the
biggest joys of my life.

"Janey is my daughter in every way. I haven't
encouraged or discouraged her sexuality. I didn't need
to. She has masturbated since age 5, the same time I
started. However, she has been aware from the beginning
that other people wouldn't understand if she involved
them in her activities and has always acted
responsibly. She was - she is a good kid. She hasn't
given me a bit of trouble in that way, and I always
assumed she would grow up and have as rewarding a sex
life as I have.

"But now? Oh, God, Larry, now I'm so afraid for her.
Maybe it's weird, but she and I have a link or
something between us, especially when we are close to
each other. I can't explain it, exactly. It's like we
can sense each other's moods and feelings. It's not
mind reading, exactly. But I know when she's horny or
happy, and she senses when I am sad, and how very happy
you have made me." She stopped and brought her hands up
between her breasts, capturing my hand between hers.

"The Janey I had 'felt' before is gone. Until today,
no, it was last night sometime; all I got when I was
near her was fear, fear of sex, fear of men, fear of
herself and her sexual feelings, and tremendous guilt.
It's as if she thinks she is responsible for what
happened.

"I know right now she is healing physically and that
she'll get over most of the pain in time. But her first
sexual experience with another person was so traumatic,
so horrendous! I'm afraid she'll never let a man near
her again, that she will never experience this, that
she will never let anyone close enough to know love."
She hugged my hands to her again to show me what she
meant. "I'm afraid she will never have the courage to
meet new people, to trust them, to venture out into the
exciting places in life. That she will always be
suspicious of people and that it will turn her into an
ugly person. 'Ugly on the inside becomes ugly on the
outside.'"

I let her talk. I didn't understand some of what she
was saying, especially about that link thing and all,
but I knew enough to keep quiet. Finally the silence
got to me, and I had to open my big fat mouth.

"So is there anything we can do to help her get over
this?" That's right. I said "we." Stupid, stupid,
stupid.

She seemed to give a start, as if 'doing' something
about it had not occurred to her. Or maybe it was that
'we' would do it together. I don't know. I do know I
could sense the sudden change in her attitude and the
change in the direction of her thoughts, even without
being able to see her face. Her whole body radiated
excitement as she grasped on to this tiny ray of hope.

"Well, what I think she needs is someone who can teach
her, be patient with her, let her be the instigator
while gently encouraging her exploration of her
sexuality until her fear of sex is gone. It would have
to be someone older; someone she trusts, someone more
experienced. Someone she knows already."

"Where would you find someone like that?" I asked. "It
doesn't sound like they would be listed in the Yellow
Pages."

I just about said something about a particular High
School teacher who came to mind. We had discussed his
known proclivities for young girls before, but the
fucking teacher's union was strong in this state and he
just kept on molesting - all right, allegedly
molesting, young girls. I also didn't think a 'funny'
remark would have been the right thing to say at that
particular moment. Given what she said next and what
happened as a result, I sometimes wonder what would
have happened if I had broken the mood at that moment.
But we'll never know, will we?

"I don't know. Right now, you're the only man I know of
who I trust enough to...Oh, my! Larry!" her voice
trailed off, as the solution became as obvious to her
as my sudden erection jabbing into her ass.

Let me explain a few things. First, Sally is, as far as
I am concerned, the perfect woman. Not just for me. She
is THE perfect woman. I personally know of several
other red-blooded males who agree, and who are
extremely jealous of my relationship with her. Comments
about giving a left nut in exchange for an evening with
her, etc. might be inappropriate given the
circumstances, but hey, it is the thought that counts,
right?

Sally is smart, witty, loving, caring, giving, yada
yada yada. Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to
trivialize those attributes; I just need to save
several megabytes of hard disk space by not listing
each and every one of them. I consider things like
honesty, integrity, and trust to be among her best
qualities, but, for the moment, her physical attributes
are more appropriate to consider.

Sally stands 5'2" in her stocking feet. Those delicate
feet grace the ends of two of the shapeliest legs God
could ever dream of forming, if God ever dreamed at
all, much less of female anatomy. At the top of her
thighs, she is both trim and voluptuous at the same
time. In front, her mound doesn't mound at all. Her
stomach is hard and flat. Not a bulge, not a wrinkle in
that silky smooth expanse of skin, even when bending
over. Her hips flare slightly, and narrow to a waspish
waist. And that's after one birth!

From behind, she looks slightly more Reubinesque.
You've heard it said before, but in this case it is
true: She has an ass to die for: high, tight and firm,
yet soft to the touch with resilient, fully rounded,
mouth watering mounds.

I remember vividly the first time that I had seen her
near naked ass revealed to me in all of its splendor.
She was in a thong bikini. We had been dating for about
a month and things were going well between us. We were
both anxious about out first sexual encounter, but
realized that what was building between us was special.
We both wanted to give it time to grow at its own pace.
Not ready for an overnighter, well, I was ready, I just
didn't want her to reject me this early on. Anyway, I
invited her to a friend's secluded place on the island
for the day.

When I arrived to pick her up on the appointed day, she
skipped out to the car, not waiting for me to get out
and come to the door as I usually did. Stopping by the
door on my side of the car she slid off her thin cover-
up, posed for me once or twice sexily, and then twirled
around.

I must have choked or something, as she stopped halfway
around and looked back inquisitively at me over her
shoulder. My leering, lusting expression would have
gotten me fired for sexual harassment in any office in
America but the Oval Office, and I blushed, embarrassed
at my obvious lust and arousal. My cock, earlier
content to rest in the confines of my own suit, broke
ranks and showed its swollen head over the waistband,
high enough she could see it from where she stood.

My jaw moved, and I gestured apologetically, convinced
she would bolt for the nearest policeman. Her
spontaneous laughter and pleasure at my visible
appreciation of her appearance and my obvious desire
for her body saved the moment, making it one of the
most special memories we shared.

I did wait until we got to the beach house, but I had
to fuck her in the car before we even got to the sand.
I couldn't walk I was so hard. When I think back, I
didn't fuck her. We fucked each other. The fucking was
more than mutual. We did it again on the blanket -
before lunch. Twice more after lunch and a couple of
times on the way back to the car. It was a long beach.
Every time she walked in front of me in that tiny black
thong bottom, I got rock hard. She knew it, too,
enjoying her affect on me as much as I did.

That night at my apartment she came to bed in just
those bikini bottoms, walking back and forth several
times as she prepared for bed, dancing and teasing me
to a hardness I had never thought possible this side of
concrete.

That was the first time we did it anal. It wasn't the
last. She wore that suit often.

So much for her ass.

If anything, Sally felt her tits were 'smallish'. They
were nowhere near "small," filling her C-sized bra cups
to overflowing. She liked the tight feeling, the bounce
and jiggle a tight garment gave her chest, so she wore
them that way. However, she didn't need to wear one at
all. Her tits rode high, and were only slightly more
rounded on the bottom when loosened from their
confinement. Perky light pink nipples surrounded by
darker rosy aureoles a little larger than a quarter.
Those sensitive nubs would stiffen to hardened turgid
buttons a little less that << inch long when she was
aroused, which was often. Oddly, one of her nipples,
the left, had been pierced at some time prior to our
relationship. One of her mysteries, as yet unsolved.

She had blonde hair, unusual green eyes - Irish green,
not hazel - that didn't miss a moment of life, creamy
smooth skin that tanned in two seconds and held it for
months. When Sally learned of my penchant for tan
lines, those three tiny white triangles of untagged
skin over her nipples and pussy lips, she developed a
seemingly permanent set of distinct tan lines. I have
always preferred white meat over dark, and I proved it
to her the night she unveiled her new look, but it took
hours and hours until she was fully convinced. I didn't
mind at all.

Even with her killer body, it was her face I loved the
most. I could watch her for hours, and did so as often
as I could. She wasn't embarrassed at the attention I
paid to her, even when she learned I got hard as iron
simply by looking at her. She would just give me a
knowing smile and laugh. Depending on the
circumstances, she would alternatively torture me,
making me even harder by flaunting her body, or she
might relieve me with her hand or mouth. She was a
sexy, beautiful woman, breathtaking, heart-stoppingly
gorgeous, and generous to a fault.

She had one special look that could pierce my darkest
mood and fire my blood as no one had ever done before.
She would kind of a look up at me through her eyelashes
with her face tilted slightly down and a little to one
side. Her pouty lower lip would glisten with just the
tip of her tongue showing, an innocent smile teasing
the corners of her moist lips. I would melt. I would
give diamonds, rubies, and my kingdom for that smile.

Once, when she looked at me like that, her tongue
wasn't showing. Instead, she had just the knob of my
swollen cock in her mouth. We had made a bet - I was
still under the mistaken impression I had some control
in this relationship - that she could make me cum with
no hands, no bobbing, no sucking, no tonguing. Just her
mouth. In under a minute.

She won. I didn't last 30 seconds. She just looked up
at me with those incredible green eyes, batted them
once or twice, wantonly winked at me, and had to
swallow a gallon of my juice. Which she did, laughing
with me. As the loser, I 'had' to attend the opera with
her for six months.

That's the first thing I needed to explain.

The second is that Janey is all that, just younger and
maybe a bit firmer in one or two places. Hell, she's
almost 20 years younger, and, not to say that Sally
looks or acts her age, Janey has the advantage and the
allure of youth; more energy, more curiosity, more
innocence.

Of course, I have to assume she looks the same naked as
her mother. I have never seen anything but her legs and
arms bare, and those matched up pretty close. I knew
the two of them traded clothes all the time and Sally
would only stretch out the smallest of Janey's tops.
Those tight ones happened to be my personal favorites,
especially the bare midriff tank tops made of thin
material. I checked the label for the size on one after
it was carefully discarded for the night and purchased
Sally several of her own for us. I replaced several of
them as they kept being ripped off her whenever she
wore them. I think Sally was secretly pleased with her
overall effect on me, as she wore them often, many
times taunting me in public by revealing she was
wearing one under a sweater or sweatshirt.

But I digress. Although I had noticed and admired
Janey, I had never thought of her in a sexual sense.
Sally was all I wanted, all I needed, and Janey was a
minor, a mature minor, for sure, but still underage.
Let's face it, Sally was all I could handle, and
besides, why spoil a terrific thing? On top of that, I
didn't have all that much contact with Janey as I
wasn't staying overnights that often. She had her life
and Sally and I were building ours. I hoped, kind of,
that she would be a bigger part of my life with Sally
at some point, but like that? Holy Shit! No way!

So there we were, lying in bed, Sally's wonderfully
firm, warm ass nestled in my crotch, talking quietly,
dealing with this crisis in an adult and reasoned
manner. And suddenly this picture of my cock
disappearing into Janey's soft, warm, moist mouth
springs unbidden into my head. It was clearly an
inappropriate moment for a hard-on, but my pecker
seemed suddenly to have developed a suicidal mind of
its own. Instant woody, and it jabbed forcefully into
Sally's ass, pressing directly into, but not
penetrating her asshole. Thank God for small favors.
Hey, how about an 'On/Off' switch on these things next
time You design something? OK, Big Fella?

Somehow that vividly erotic image, and the multitude of
others that quickly joined it in my brain of that
vibrant teen in various sexual positions, invigorated
my organ. It was a most inopportune time, considering
she had just been assaulted.

I knew I was in deep shit.

There was no way for her to miss my arousal or to not
know what had caused it. We had both realized the
obvious, albeit ludicrous, solution at the same time.
We just had different images of it. If I hadn't been so
pre-occupied with the erotic visions filling my head, I
might have tried to cover, scrabble together some
romantic reason for my arousal, and make it perhaps a
little better. As it was, I knew she knew. As I
realized what had happened, time stopped dead while I
waited for her to do or say something.

I almost cried out when she shifted her body away from
me, leaving my erection bobbing freely in the space
between us.

"Well. I see you like them young." Her voice was
sounded almost bitter, hurt.

With that, she moved farther away from me. It was the
first night we spent together, apart. I didn't like it.

I felt like dead man walking. Walking in deep shit.

Chapter 4

The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filtered into the
room late the next morning. I surveyed the room. I was
at Sally's, so it hadn't all been a bad dream. Damn! I
raised the sheets and checked my equipment. I breathed
a sigh of relief. She hadn't pulled a Bobbit. In fact,
it looked and felt as if my erection had never gone
down. The few personal items I kept at her place were
still hanging in the closet and sitting unbroken on the
dressing table. So far, so good. No open suitcase for
me to pack and leave.

I reviewed the final events of the previous evening in
my head. Same conclusion, I had really fucked up this
time.

The wafting aroma of a hearty breakfast had me
confused, however. Sally and Janey were extremely
health conscious and didn't eat a lot of eggs and
bacon, or as Janey called them, 'cholesterol and
nitrates in non-unsaturateds.' It's what she meant when
she said 'CNN.'

Under normal circumstances, I had been able to
associate these particular smells with the hearty
breakfasts we would have following an exceptional night
of wild passionate sex. Or of nights filled with
passion and romance, not just fucking and sucking, as
had been the case more often than not of late.

I slipped on my robe and walked out to the kitchen. On
the way, I went past Janey's door, which was open. The
bedroom doors in this house were always open, even
during sex. It took a bit of getting used to, as Sally
was extremely vocal during intercourse, announcing her
pleasures with descriptive words and sounds. Privacy
was for the bathroom, unless, of course she was horny.
Janey respected the privacy visually, but I wondered
how much she heard.

I peeked in on Janey, to check on her, of course. She
was still fast asleep, but curled into a protective
fetal position, as if hugging herself. I continued on,
following my nose to the kitchen.

At the door to the kitchen I paused and reconnoitered.
Two place settings, both with coffee cups, one of them
was the cup reserved for my use, another good sign.
Fresh squeezed orange juice, a special treat. Sally
hated the work it took. I cautiously cleared my throat,
ready to duck at the first sign of flying utensils.

"Good morning, lover. Hungry?"

'Lover?' Me? I quickly checked behind me to see if
anyone else was there. Nope, just me.

"Uh, sure. You know I like a big breakfast..."

I bit my tongue, as I had almost added 'after a night
of great sex.' I edged closer to the table, still
watching for flying pottery or hot grease.

Sally was standing at the stove, wearing her 'I just
had another night of great sex' robe. It was the red
silk one and was short enough you could just see the
bottom swells of her ass cheeks. When it was cinched
tight with the silk rope belt, like it was now, you
could see everything, back and front. Usually that
meant 'breakfast can wait, shove the dishes on the
floor and do me hard and fast on the table.' I had no
idea what it meant this morning. I took another
cautious step towards the table.

She watched my progress with a strange expression on
her face. It was more a wry smile than anything, but
there was a definite element of sadness in it to, or
seriousness, maybe.

"Sit." It was gentle, like the final concession in an
argument, but it was an order, nonetheless.

I sat, trembling slightly.

She came over with two plates, business-like. They were
hot out of the oven. She put them down, poured the
coffee and sat down with me at the table. She then
proceeded to push her food all around her plate until
it was a congealed mass in the center. It looked just
like my plate.

I had been watching her fidget for the longest time. I
had only known her to fidget once before, and that was
the first night she asked me to stay over with her when
Janey was there, too. Indecision was not something I
was used to from her. She finally noticed me watching
her and blushed. That surprised me.

"Is something on your mind, Sally?"

"Yes. No. Yes. But I don't know how to start."

This was even more uncharacteristic of her, and
immediately I misunderstood. "Look, if it's about last
night, I'm terribly sorry. I don't know what happened
that it popped up like that. I was tired, we were both
stressed out because of what - you know, all that
happened. And it's been a long time since we, well, did
anything together to relieve the stress. I swear to you
with all my heart, soul and body, I have never thought
of Janey in that way before. Cut it off and toss it out
if I'm lying! I don't know what came over me."

I hesitated, choked up a bit. "Just don't make me leave
you."

My eyes started to water. Hey, it was an emotional
moment. I was really sincere, and I was sincerely
afraid she would never let me see her again. I was
prepared to continue to beg, plead, scream, grovel or
whatever it took to obtain her forgiveness. Fortunately
she took pity on me and stopped me.

"That's very sweet of you. I'll bet I could almost get
you to grovel on the floor, couldn't I?"

I nodded. My heart sank to my knees. I wasn't all that
good at begging, really.

"And I wouldn't think of cutting it off. It has - you
'both' have brought me too much happiness and pleasure.
That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

She chewed on the next line for a long time.

"I want you to teach Janey about sex."

My ears were playing tricks on me, but my prick had
heard and was rising once again to the challenge. It
popped its head out between the flaps of my robe, as if
wanting to participate in the conversation. It was so
hard it hurt. I was going to have to do something about
these uncontrollable erections. More sex more often,
maybe?

Sally looked at me, waiting for a response, other than
the one sticking out of my robe. I think she wanted
something verbal, some response from the cognitive side
of my brain.

"You're serious." It was a statement, not a question. A
thousand thoughts whipped through my head, with the
foremost being the jolting realization that my position
in this house was not as precarious as I had at first
thought. In fact, I suddenly felt pretty damn smug. But
I wanted to see how much it meant to her.

"You want me, a much older man, to teach your underage
daughter about sex? Do you mean teach, as in 'tell her
about it,' or teach, as in 'actually have sex with?'"

Her hands over her beautiful face muffled her answer,
as if trying to hide from the absurdity of this
conversation, to blank it from her mind.

"What? I didn't quite catch that." So I lied, big deal.
I had heard just fine. I just wanted her to repeat it
for posterity, and to make really, really, really sure.

"Have sex with. I want you to have sex with my under-
aged teenage daughter and show her how wonderful it can
be. Whatever it takes to do that. Satisfied?" She had
enunciated her answer very carefully, as if speaking to
an idiot or a foreigner. No offense intended. Everyone
does it to foreign visitors. She glared at me across
the table.

"No."

She looked at me disbelieving, almost in shock.

"Check that. Let me clarify. I mean, 'No, I'm not
satisfied with your answer'. Don't take that as a 'No'
to the sex part. Yet."

I was grinning at her like an idiot, which I was. I had
the upper hand for the first time and she knew it. She
also didn't like it and knew I was going to rub it in.
Good.

"How much sex?"

She glared at me. I kept going.

"What kind of sex? How often? Is she on the pill? You
know I don't use condoms..."

I looked down and then grinned up at her.

"...They don't fit very well, as you well know."

God, this was fun! I had her squirming, dangling at the
end of a short line, the hook set deep.

She actually blushed again. This was amazing. When she
answered, it was not what I expected.

"Do whatever she wants, whatever you want. Just make
her enjoy it. No, wait. Now let me clarify. 'Help' her
enjoy it. Don't 'make' her do anything."

She looked up at me, pleading with her eyes. Damn, she
played unfair!

"Help me, Larry. Help me help her. Please, Larry. I
don't know what to do. I just don't know..."

The tears started then.

Leave it to a woman to cry just when it was getting
fun. Hell, even I'm not that insensitive, and I had
halfway thought she was kidding. She wasn't. She was
serious. I felt like the schmuck I had been acting
like.

I reached over and took both of her hands in one of
mine. I wanted to stop her wringing them, if not to
comfort her. She was clearly nervous and scared I would
turn her down. While doing untold good for my ego, her
request and the implicit trust it placed in me scared
me absolutely shitless. I realized very clearly that no
matter which way I went, there was a more than even
chance I could lose it all. I didn't think I could take
that.

I was quiet for a long time, silently holding her
hands. She wisely let me think of exactly what I wanted
to say. For once.

"First off, I am sincerely sorry about my physical
reaction last night. You are the only woman for me, and
you have been the only one since that first moment I
laid eyes on you. Please believe me."

She nodded. "I know. But it surprised me. Your reaction
seemed somehow, well, inappropriate. I know she's
attractive and that she's growing up - and out - very
fast, but I never sensed you had those kinds of
thoughts about her. If I had, whether it was true or
not, you would have never seen us again.

"And I do believe you think you love me. Geeze, you've
asked me to marry you enough times."

Ouch. That one hurt. All right, so I had proposed to
her within 5 minutes of seeing her the first time. We
had barely been introduced and it popped out of my
mouth. Funny thing is, we both knew I was dead serious.
I had cut down my barrage of proposals a lot in the
last 6 months, mostly just begging with her during,
before and after sex, of which we had a lot. She didn't
seem to mind. She just never accepted. At least now I
knew she had heard me. Maybe one more shot at it? I was
in a good position here, after all.

"Second, she will have to approach me. I won't seduce
her."

As she nodded her agreement, a tear trickled down her
cheek.

"Third, if it means any chance of losing you, the
answer is 'No.' I will not risk that."

Another nod, more tears.

"Last, I don't want this to create trouble between you
two. I'm not so vain as to think I could turn the head
of a pretty young teenager, but if you two are sharing
the same man on a regular basis..."

I saw her flinch at that comment.

"...there is bound to be an emotional bond that grows
between Janey and me as well, maybe even a little
competition. What happens if she falls in love with me,
or thinks she is? What if she tries to displace you in
my heart? Can you deal with that? You'll have to, as I
don't think I could stop her without crushing her
spirit even more than it is now. I won't risk that,
either. She has been hurt too much."

That last was said almost with vehemence.

A grin spread across her face. She realized I had all
but agreed, and was relieved. And she had thought that
far ahead to contemplate the possible complications and
she was not concerned. That part she could deal with,
or would if and when it happened.

"If you think I am going to lose my man to some fresh-
faced young chippy, you had better think again!"

She looked me directly in the eyes, grinning smugly.

"I've got tricks up my sleeve you haven't even dreamed
about, buster. Experience will beat out youthful
exuberance any day."

God, she was beautiful. But I still had the upper hand.
I wanted something from her, something big. But I
couldn't make her just give it to me because of the
situation. She would resent it later if not now, and so
would I, really. I had to win it fair and square.

"OK. But only on one condition."

She paled. She hated conditions. "What is it?"

"I want to win the bet."

For a minute she had a puzzled look on her face. She
had no idea where I was going. Then she realized I had
said 'the' bet. She grew more perplexed.

"Huh? What makes you think you can win now? Remember
the last time? What's your record, 30 seconds?"


She eyed the silent helmeted observer peeking out from
my robe. She reached over and lightly stroked the dark
head with the tip of her finger. I almost shot my load
then.

"Or do you just want a blow job? I'll give you that
right now, no charge!"

In a shaky voice I responded, "I can win. I have to.
And I want to raise the stakes."

"Oh, really? Remind me of the original bet."

"We, you bet that you could make me cum in less than
one minute using only your mouth, no hands, no tongue,
no suction, no motion."

"And the stakes?"

"If you won, which you did, I was to accompany you to
the opera for six months, my treat, which I have done.
If I won, which I didn't, I was to get to shave your
pussy bald, and help you keep it that way for six
months."

"What do you want to raise the stakes to?"

"Same stakes as before. Plus, if you win, I do anything
you decide."

Sally was quiet for a minute, and then she spoke, "At
first I thought to myself, 'Big deal. He loses and he
gets to fuck my daughter after taking me to the opera.'
But..." she paused for effect, "...anything?"

I nodded.

She paused again. "Anything? You would never, ever ask
me to marry you again, if that's what I wanted?"

I paled. I could even hear the italics in her voice.
She knew me too well. I nodded my agreement. Slowly.

"Those are pretty big stakes. You must really want
something big. What do I have to do for you if you win
on a fluke? Come on, what do you want, Stud?"

In answer, I said nothing. I simply played with the
shiny golden ring on the little finger of my left hand.
It was a simple band, but designed for a much smaller
hand. One more her size. It had been there almost 18
months, in constant readiness. I was ready if she ever
changed her mind and said "Yes" to one of my proposals.

She followed my gaze to my hands. She saw the ring.

"Oh. Larry, I... we... Oh, shit!"

I waited for the explosion that never came. I waited
for her to turn down the bet. She had turned them down
before when she felt the stakes were too high. I waited
for...

"Five minutes. I get five minutes to make you cum."

"YES!"

It was a shout of spontaneous joy after a lifetime of
hopelessness. My heart leaped in my chest. She had
agreed to the bet! We were simply negotiating the
details. I had not dared hope she would agree. I had
only wanted to get it back on the table and move her
closer to what I considered the inevitable. But, shit,
5 minutes. I was not made of stone. We had proven that
the last time!

"I mean, No! Not 5 minutes. 90 seconds," I countered.

"Four minutes."

"Two."

"Three." It was all the concession I was going to get
and we both knew it. God help me.

"Done..."

Chapter 5

"... But I get to make one condition to be specified
only after you agree. Take it or leave it."

I was praying she would leave it. There was no fucking
way I could last that long in that moist steaming
cauldron of her sexy mouth, so hot and moist, tight...
Stop it, you idiot! You'll lose before you start!

"OK. When do you want to lose?"

Oh, shit I'm a goner. Maybe if I go jack off for a
month solid...

"Right now. But I can't lose."

Her head snapped up so fast, I thought she would get
whiplash. She knew, she could bloody see the condition
I was in and what condition my cock was in. She could
see it throbbing, lusting at her. She had seen me
almost lose it when she had merely stroked it with her
fingertip. We hadn't had intercourse for more than a
week, because of the last week's events. I was loaded
for bear and we both knew it. Shit, it was already
glistening with oozing pre-cum in anticipation of her
warm mouth engulfing it. Soft and warm, gently
surrounding the throbbing head, even if only for one
brief moment... STOP IT.

She got up without another word and moved beside my
chair. I turned my chair so she was between my legs.
All she had to do was kneel down, lean forward and win
the bet. She started to kneel down. I had to delay her
for a minute. Focus on something else. I looked around
the kitchen frantically for a diversion.

"Wait. I had a condition."

She grinned at me, confident, too confident. I had to
change our positions, somehow. Re-establish the
smugness I had felt earlier, sort of.

"You're going to blindfold me?"

She batted her eyes. She knew me too well. But it did
give me an idea. Maybe...

In answer, I reached up and loosened the black silk
rope holding her robe closed. I pulled it free from the
belt loops.

"Turn around."

She did with saucy flip of her hips, a dare, a
challenge.

I made a loop at one end of belt and slipped it over
her wrist. I pulled that wrist behind her into the
small of her back. She resisted slightly as I caught
her other hand and gently pulled it back behind her.
She was strangely quiet and there was a visible tremor
to her whole body. The sauce had mellowed.

"Please, not this..."

It was a barely audible whisper. But she stopped before
she finished.

"What did you say?"

She cleared her throat.

"Nothing. Just a bad memory."

I secured the two wrists together behind her. There was
rope left over, and I figured 'What the hell. Let's go
for broke.' I wound the rope up and around her forearms
to her elbows, pulling each wind a little tighter,
drawing her elbows towards each other. In testament to
her flexibility, when I finished, they were touching.
She had not made another sound. I touched her hip to
indicate she could face me.

"Oh... My... God!"

I was unprepared for the sight I beheld. Tying her
hands behind her back and forcing her elbows together
had the glorious effect of forcing her chest out
through the open robe. They were standing proudly up
thrust, firm and quivering with her - what - fear?
Anger? She was definitely shaking.

Whether it was the conversation, the cool air
conditioning, or (dare I hope?) her reaction to
bondage, her nipples betrayed her arousal as did the
distinctive odor of her visibly dripping pussy. Even
her swollen clit was visible. I had about as much of
the upper hand as I was ever going to get with this
wonderful woman. It was now or never.

I set my watch on chronograph and zeroed it out. I
placed it on the arm of the chair facing her so we
could both see it. She kneeled down in front of me.
Instead of initiating the bet, as she usually did, she
waited for my signal.

I nodded to her. "Now."

I waited until she had the head fully in her mouth
before I started the timer. One of her eyebrows raised
in a silent question.

I answered her with, "Just so there is no question when
I win."

I sounded way more confident that I felt.

As she couldn't nod without defaulting, she merely
lowered the eyebrow and closed her eyes. She shut me
out, trying to help me win! Damn it all and fuck that
shit. I got mad.

"I'll call the whole thing off right now if you don't
try to win!" I snapped at her. I reached down and
lifted her mouth off my cock.

"I-I-I'm ccccuuuummminnnggg," she gasped, visibly
shuddering.

In a flash, ashamed, I was beside her on the floor,
supporting her sagging body. Her breath stabilized
after a long while, evening out as she lay heavily
against my chest.

"Here, let me untie you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to
tie it so tight. It was stupid."

She shook her head, stopping me.

"No. Wait! Yes, but later. It's just been a long time
since..." Again she didn't finish.

"Want to tell me about it?" I asked.

"Later, Lover. Damn, you're good..." Her sense of humor
was back, anyway.

Catching her breath, she asked in a strangely
submissive voice, "May I try again?"

I swore there was an unspoken word at the end of that
sentence. Something like "Sir," or "Master." Or maybe I
was dreaming.

"You sure you're up to it?"

She snorted. "Are you? Oh, yes. I can see you are..."

I sat back up in the chair and scooted my butt forward
to the edge of the seat. My iron hard prick stood
straight up from my groin, within easy reach of her
mouth. Again she waited for my signal.

I reset the clock to zero. Her eyes widened. And I
thought I saw a malicious twinkle in them. Good, at
least she was getting back to normal.

"Now."

As before, she leaned forward. Knowing I wouldn't start
the clock until she had the whole head in her mouth,
she took her time getting it all in. And, if the clock
wasn't running, the restrictions of the bet didn't
apply. She kissed and lathered and sucked and bobbed
and tongued all around the tip of my cock, driving me
fucking ape-shit. This was the competitor I knew and
loved. But two could play that game.

Very smoothly I moved my shin to place my foot to about
where I guessed her crotch would be. When her mouth was
centered over my prick, I moved my foot up so it just
caressed her pussy. Surprised at the sudden contact,
she gasped, opening her mouth. I thrust up with my hips
and her lips engulfed the entire head.

I started the clock.

She did her damnedest to win this time. Her sexy eyes
never left mine. She had that sultry look down cold,
and was beating down my resistance with those devilish
dancing green eyes.

At 30 seconds I was sweating. The heat generated by her
mouth was incredible. I could feel her heartbeat and
mine both in the head of my cock. The more I
concentrated on the twin beats, the closer they got.

At 45 seconds our heartbeats synchronized. I tried to
blank my mind, but all I could see was Janey in her
mother's place, kneeling submissively before me, her
lips nestled at the base of my cock.

I quit trying to blank my mind. The way I was going
that was a sure-fire way to loose.

At 60 seconds, trickles of sweat coalesced and trailed
down my chest and pooled in my navel. This was more
effective than a sauna!

Her eyes suddenly began dancing, sparkling with a
vitality I had never seen in her before. When my foot,
still directly under her crotch, got wet, I knew she
had cum again. But she hadn't defaulted by moving,
moaning or sucking. I glanced at the clock. She had cum
at 90 seconds. We're only halfway. God! I'll never make
it! Her eyes flicked to the clock with mine, then
snapped back to capture them again. I never thought of
looking away. I should have.

If I had thought she was trying before, I was badly
mistaken. Her current efforts at seductive 'come
hither' looks were beyond anything I had seen before.
The looks she gave me for the next 90 seconds would
have seduced a statue.

She almost won. She took advantage of my foot below her
and slowly lowered her body, capturing my foot with her
sopping cunt. Her only reaction when I wiggled my big
toe was to slightly close her eyes, shudder a bit and
shift so it wasn't directly over her clit. I shifted it
back, grinning at her and began a steady rotation of my
toe over her button.

With my foot sort of trapped beneath her, she slowly
turned her body without moving her head, letting her
stiff nipples scratch along the hairs of my thigh, one
after the other. I'll bet you never considered your
legs as an erogenous zone. I sure hadn't. I do now.

The ends of the armrests on my chair snapped off
suddenly in my death grip as the timer crawled towards
the 3-minute mark. My eyes darted back and forth
between her eyes and the timer like a trapped animal.

2:58

I could have recited every poem I have ever learned in
the space of time from then until the end. And I was a
poetry minor in college.

2:59

God could have done all 7 days of creation here. Twice.

3:00

3:01

3:02

I didn't cum. As surprised as I was, Sally was even
more so. For the first time I saw something in her eyes
that bordered on true respect. She respected control,
especially the ability to control one's sexual urge.
She'd had to do so all her life. Her daughter did as
well. I may have been the first person, male person,
anyway, she could truly respect in that way.

3:30

She was now waiting patiently at my feet, a stillness
about her. She had lost, but knew I still had something
to prove. She sat there, a beautiful woman, hands bound
behind her, quietly fucking herself on my toe and
caressing my thighs with her nipples, waiting for me;
for what I wanted. I felt her cum dripping steadily
down my foot, the contractions on my toes delightful. A
pool of her juices was forming at my heel.

4:15

Her mouth must have been sore by now. But she had never
moved, sucked or tongued throughout. Still I lasted.
She waited with me, for me.

5:00

Chapter 6

"Now!"

It was a quiet command to her, as well as a warning to
her that I was going to flood her mouth. We came
together. I had so much stored jism pumping into her
oral cavity, it flowed out her nose. It dripped to the
floor beneath my chair.

I sat back in the chair, and placed the broken armrests
on the table. I would fix them later. Right now, I was
totally drained, exhausted, exhilarated. I had won! I
didn't even want to think about what would have
happened if I had lost. I had won! We would marry.

I understood she had not agreed to a time frame and I
grinned, thinking of the next bet we would make in
order to set the date. I was about to mention this to
her, but stopped as I watched her thoroughly clean my
semi-erect cock with her tongue. She then bent
completely over and licked my foot clean. She proceeded
from there to lick up the drops of cum, hers and mine,
that had fallen to the kitchen floor.

Sitting back on her heels when she finished, she waited
for me to speak, but I was speechless. I was not used
to this behavior, had never seen it before, but was
damned sure I could get used to it real quick. If I
could just figure out what was going on.

A slight motion of my hand, and she slipped up and
settled on my lap, facing me, one leg out to either
side of my hips. My stiffening organ nestled against
her gaping cunt, and as I hardened and lengthened, she
shifted back and forth so that it grew up into her. As
it stiffened, I felt her contract almost continuously,
her green eyes now lidded.

I lifted her knees, bringing her feet off the floor.
This forced her to settle completely on my cock with
her entire weight. A tremendous sob tore from her as
she gasped out my name.

"Oh, Laaarry!" The pressure her muscles exerted on me
felt like she was going to snap my cock off at the
base. As she slowly relaxed from this major climax, she
tipped forward and nestled her face in the crook of my
neck. For a while I thought she was asleep until I felt
her lips gently working.

Damn! A hickey! That mischievous minx! I had an
important meeting on Friday with a new client.

Without thinking, I swatted at her ass with my open
hand. It was just a light slap, honest! I was not
prepared for her response. It was as if every muscle in
her body, including those gripping my prick for dear
life, contracted at their greatest strength. Her legs
shot rigid out behind the chair. Her back arched even
more, offering her glorious breasts to my mouth. This
seizure/climax seemed to last forever, until she could
finally gasp out a plea.

"God! Shit! Fuck! Oh, God! Please, Larry. Stop for a
minute. Uuuhhh. We have, uuuhhh, to talk."

I stopped toying with her tits reluctantly. I waited
for her to get off my prick. I waited for her to ask to
be untied. Her arms must be aching by now. I waited.

She didn't move off my staff, nor did she ask to be
released. She jumped right in, no hesitation this time.

"My last boyfriend... You have to know... He hurt
Janey.... And me...."

She was speaking in gasps. I shushed her, bringing my
lips to hers. She stayed right there in my face,
resting her forehead on mine, her nose smashed against
mine. I traced her lips with my tongue, tasting myself
on her. In many ways, this felt more intimate than
fucking her.

"Gary was my last boyfriend before you, about four
years ago."

I did the math in my head. Janey had been ten or eleven
years old.

"We had been together a long time, two years or so, and
over time, I came to relax my guard around him. I guess
I let myself believe we were in love, although I knew
we weren't.

"He was good with Janey at first, spending time with
her, rough-housing as only a guy can with a young girl.
She seemed to like him. They were inseparable on
weekends, and, after she was in bed, he would fuck me
silly. Things were great for the first 6 months or so.

"Then one night he said he wanted to try something
different. He used a belt or something and tied me to
the bed. I went wild. It was the most exciting thing I
had ever experienced up until then. I mean, I knew what
bondage was, and had dabbled, but Gary took it serious.
When he tied me up, it was for real, even that first
time.

"He saw my reaction to it and rapidly introduced me to
more and more bondage and domination, the stricter the
better. I got hooked on it, really hooked. It was the
closest thing I have ever had to an addiction. When I
was tied up, I felt exhilaration, a real rush. For the
first time in my life, I could relax sexually, let go.
When I was bound, I was free.

"It sounds strange, but try to understand. All my life
I had had to maintain control over my sex drive. But
when I was tied up, it was as if I wasn't in control
anymore. I could give full vent to my passionate side.
It was a heady, dangerous thing to do, but I gave into
it. I surrendered to it totally and, unfortunately, to
Gary.

"I didn't know Gary was deeper into it than I was,
actually closer to S&M. Humiliation, my humiliation,
began to play an increasingly greater part of our
playtimes, or 'scenes,' as he called them. I won't go
into everything that went on, but I can't think of
anything that he didn't make me do. Nothing was too
disgusting or vile. He used just enough bondage to keep
me hooked, and I crawled willingly along after him.

"Gary had a great thing going. He bragged about it to
his friends. First he just brought them over to show me
off; first just one, then two, then more. At one party,
he let someone else tie me up. The next, someone else
whipped me. Then he gave me away sexually to his
friends. Parties, weekends, you name it.

"Then one day Janey came home early from a friend's
house and caught me being fucked by five men and two
women, all strangers. Gary pulled her over and told her
to watch her slut mother service each one of the guests
at the party. He told her it would be good for her to
learn what she was going to become one day. He then
held her up against his naked body, with her back
pressed to his limp cock dribbling cum down her white
cotton blouse. He held her there and forced her to
watch her mother suck the women and fuck the men. I
kicked him out the next day and haven't seen him since.

"She was just eleven, but she understood I was torn
between satisfying my sexual needs and the hating
humiliation and pain he made me suffer through to get
the satisfaction I craved. That was when we began to
discover the full extent of the bond - that link I told
you about that we have between us. I wouldn't have made
it through that time without Janey's help. She would
sense when I was getting antsy and keep me busy,
usually with a behavior crisis of her choosing. God,
she could be a real brat. She had to be, to keep me
busy enough to get over my own emotional ups and downs.

"It was only after I was pretty much back to an even
keel that I began to sense her loss. Until you, Gary
was the only man she had ever known. He was her father-
figure, sort of."

I interrupted her. I had to ask.

"What happened to her real father?"

She opened her eyes and gazed myopically into mine. She
was too close to focus, but I sensed the hesitation and
the pain in them. With a sigh, she answered.

"Her father and I were married when I was 19. He was
much older, a businessman and I was a trophy wife. He
saw me at the local college campus where I was a
sophomore. I didn't understand my place was on the
shelf, to be quiet and look pretty. I wanted the fairy
tale, love, romance, sex, children...

"He was a businessman, like I said, and not a good one.
His grandfather or great-grandfather had invented those
metal grommets for the shoelace holes in shoes. Imagine
how many of those things there are, 24 or more per pair
of shoes, more in boots. Instant bazillionaire. By the
time my husband got the company, though, the patents
had run out and the business was all but dead. After a
series of bad investments, me being one of them, he
made a last attempt to merge with another company, but
in the process lost it all. It was a shady deal, but he
was greedy and got stupid. He died within a week. I
think when he realized how badly he had been taken, the
shock of it killed him. He was a very proud man.

"The new partners had set up a sizable insurance policy
with the new merger - a Key Man Policy, or something
like that. It was supposed to be his part of the
contract. The bastards had reduced their costs by
limiting the life of the policy to 30 days. My husband
died 3 days before the expiration date. Nine months
later Janey was born. His last two acts, he finally got
it right. I'm sorry he never got to meet Janey. It
might have made a difference... He would have made a
great father."

It hurt her to talk about it. This was her failure,
too. Or she saw them that way.

"Anyway, it took forever for the Insurance Company to
pay off. They suspected suicide, then all but accused
me of murder. The only thing was, neither of us had
known about the policy. I wasn't even supposed to be
the beneficiary. Some ditzy secretary had automatically
filled in my name as beneficiary, and no one had
checked it. They had exaggerated his value to the
merged company by several millions of dollars, much
more than his whole company was worth or had been worth
for several years. And I got it all. Tax-free."

Several of the missing pieces to the puzzle of the past
were falling into place; just a couple more for now,
and then more for the future.

"Where do we go from here, my love?"

She sat up and looked me in the eye. She took a while,
apparently looking for something. Or was she probing my
emotions, my feelings? I felt something snooping around
in my head, I think. I don't know. It felt strange,
like someone else was in there with me.

What passed between us just then, together with what we
had experienced earlier seemed to grow and merge within
the two of us, becoming something real. A part of me
was in her, a part of her was in me. I know, that
sounds corny. I never believed that shit, either. I
just don't know how else to explain it, but something
inside of us had touched the other. Maybe that's what
they mean by having an epiphany. If it is, we had one.

And it was great.

We knew each other better now, and in a different way.
She was finally convinced I was not Gary, that I had no
hidden agenda, and I would not lead her down the same
path of shame and humiliation, nor would I subject her
daughter to that humiliation. She didn't know, nor did
I what path we would go down from here, but she trusted
me. With my cock still embedded deep within her, she
playfully squeezed me with her cunt muscles.

She kissed my lips lightly and gave me an impish smile
before casting her twinkling eyes downward, bowing her
head in a voluntary submissive posture. What she said
next thrilled me to my core, and set the course for a
major part of the next phase of our relationship.

"Anywhere you want, I will follow you..."

This time, the missing word was added.

"...Master."

Chapter 7

I had won the bet. She would be my bride at last.
'When' was another question altogether, but the 'if'
part was now gone.

More to the immediate point of settling up the bet, my
Sally had a bare pussy by noon. With all the frivolity
and ribald comments during the procedure, I think we
were both surprised there were no nicks or cuts. By
2:00 in the afternoon, I would estimate I had consumed
at least a gallon of her cum. There is something about
a smooth, hairless cunt that just tastes better. We
were both looking forward to the frequent touch-ups. It
was to become one of our favorite times together.

Originally, I had chosen this wager for the bet because
I knew she wouldn't like it. Now, neither of us could
understand why we had not done this earlier. She was so
much more sensitive, responsive, and accessible. She
would be shaved much longer than six months.

We were lying on the bed, head to toe. Or rather, heads
to groins. I rolled over on my back, keeping her on top
of me. I slowly moved my tongue over the length of her
swollen slit. The aroma of all of the day's play
combined into a heady mix. It was heavenly. My limp
cock stirred.

She must have had her eyes open, as she immediately
sucked in the pink head swelling right under her nose.
Her next actions told me she was bent on bringing me
off as fast as she could.

"Slow down, my love. Go to completion, but make it
last." These commands were delivered around languorous
licks to her slippery cunt.

She immediately slowed her actions, but she intensified
the suction. It felt like she was trying to suck my
balls up through my penis like chunks of strawberry
fruit in a real milkshake that get stuck in the straw.
I focused on her pleasure to take my mind off the
feelings growing in my balls. I partially succeeded.
She came three times before I exploded into her mouth.

Only then did I release her arms. She hadn't asked me
to even then, but she had been bound for over 5 hours,
without one complaint. She was very still as I massaged
her shoulders, working out the kinks. When she stirred,
I stopped. She rolled over, reached up and pulled me
down to her. She held me so tight, I thought she would
never let me go, and with the strength of her embrace,
I knew I would never be able to break away. Not that I
wanted to. She moved her lips to my ear.

"Thank you." Just that, nothing more. Nothing more was
needed.

And then the old Sally was back. She was in control,
sure of herself, feisty, my lover, my equal.

It wasn't rocket science. But this much I had figured
out: When she was bound, I was in total control. She
didn't even want a safe-word. She had to explain what
that was to me later. When she was free, we were
equals. We both agreed we could live with that. Even
better, I got to decide when she was bound and when she
was free.

She said she had things to take care of and got up.
'Life goes on,' or something like that. I don't know
how she did it, where she got her energy. I was
exhausted.

The first thing I did was take a short nap. Then I
checked on Janey. I wasn't being selfish by sleeping
first. I had seen Sally go in to check on her first
thing after she left our bed. She hadn't seemed anxious
for her the entire time we had been 'playing,' but we
both knew our concern for her was just below the
surface. One noise from her, and it would have ended
immediately. Anyway, Sally had looked down the hall at
me as she exited Janey's room, gave me a bright smile
and the 'OK' sign.

When I checked a couple of hours later, she was still
sleeping soundly, but seemed a little less troubled.
She had tossed the light covers off and one very long
leg and one slim arm were exposed; or would have been
exposed, except she was wearing her tracksuit. The rape
counselor mentioned she might prefer that. Immediately
after a sexual assault, most victims can't come to
terms with their bodies and try to hide them
completely. The bulkier and more misshapen the clothes
the better to remove any hint of gender-oriented form.

Janey looked as if she had three or four layers under
the normally sleek suit. She looked like an
advertisement for that Eddie Murray movie where he
wears a body suit to add a hundred or so pounds. She
even had the ankle and wrist zippers closed and she was
wearing her slippers. I noticed the hood was up over
her head and the drawstring tied under her chin, as if
she were trying to cover herself entirely up. A
twisting knot developed in my gut and tried to rip my
heart out as I began to understand the depth of her
pain, confusion, and hurt. I swore right then and there
that, as bizarre a plan as her Mom had proposed, if
that would help Janey, my Janey heal, I would do it,
whatever it took, even if I had to risk losing Sally.

I covered her arm and leg, tucked her in and kissed her
forehead. I had to wipe away a few tears that had
fallen on her from somewhere. They couldn't have been
from me - I never cry. I offered up another fervent
prayer for her quick and total recovery.

I wandered around the quiet house and ended in the
family room. I heard Sally bustling around in the
cellar. It sounded as if she was dragging several large
boxes or crates around and vacuuming. I vaguely
wondered why she would be cleaning the basement, but
dismissed it.

The family room was a comfortable room, like the rest
of the house. It was hard to imagine any room decorated
by Sally that didn't reflect her personality. Of
course, I was just a tad biased.

I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels,
finding nothing worth watching. I scanned the bookshelf
for titles I had read. I could only find a couple I had
even heard of, much less read. No trashy novels here.
It was quiet in the basement again. I looked around the
room and saw a telephone on the desk. That reminded me
that there was something I had to do.

I called the opera house. No, I didn't cancel. I
renewed my season tickets, upgraded to a full season,
and added one seat to the account for Janey. Sally had
joined me in the living room and listened to the phone
call in silence. As I place the telephone back in the
cradle on the desk, I turned to face her to see what
she wanted.

She attacked me.

Not in a mean spirited way, but with sharp fingernails
jabbing for ticklish, tender areas, throw pillows
actually used for throwing, knees, elbows, head-butts.
My gentle little wife-to-be was intent on some serious
roughhousing.

The robes we had thrown on upon leaving her bedroom
were the first casualties. Mine came untied in the
first assault and she tried to use the belt to trip me
up. I managed to snag hers on the second lap around the
sofa. The black silk rope belt we had put to such good
use earlier in the day got tangled in the belt loops
and she shimmied out of the robe so I wouldn't use it
to pull her in. Seeing her boobs bouncing around her
chest was extremely distracting, and I tended to spend
more time watching them move than paying attention to
where I was going.

I was at a bit of a disadvantage. I didn't know what
the rules of this particular game were, or if there
even were any. I still don't know, and don't care, as
we were having a tremendously good time, laughing and
screaming. I bellowed as she drenched me with the water
from a vase of flowers, and I discarded my dripping
robe, more to limit the water damage than anything. I
discovered a cache of rubber bands in a desk drawer.
She shrieked as if mortally wounded as I shot them at
her across the desk. I had her on the run for a while,
her ass and tits my favorite targets. Then my ammo ran
low.

I retreated in earnest after the first swat of the fly
swatter she discovered discarded behind an easy chair
caught my pecker broadside. She had been aiming for my
butt, but I turned suddenly. I hollered "Shit," grabbed
my jewels and started backing away from her in a panic.
A look of horror crossed her face as she realize where
she had struck me, but she quickly recovered from her
shock, shrugged an "I'm sorry" at me, and immediately
tried to hit it again, albeit with much less force.

Fuck this shit! I was going to do the honorable thing
and run like hell in retreat. I had both hands in the
basic 'save the family jewels' position, and was
backing away from her as fast as I could. I intended to
get to a small room with a locking door, but she was
always one step ahead of me and herded me around the
room like a cowboy cutting cattle. Damn, she was fast!

By the time I backed into and tripped over the arm of
the sofa, landing in the dead cockroach position, I was
a mass of red blotches. Nothing vital was injured, but
Sally took every opening to torment me. She gleefully
pounced on this new opportunity to attack my
unprotected feet and calves as they waved in the air
above me.

After several bellows and cries for mercy she said,
"Say 'Uncle!' If you give, say 'Uncle.'"

Call me macho, call me a male chauvinist pig, call me
stupid, call me what you want, but there is just
something that gets stuck in my throat when I think
about crying 'Uncle' to a girl. It has been like that
ever since my Dad told me that I was a boy and had to
be tough, but then I realized he had a different set of
rules for my sister. I made the mistake of hesitating
to surrender and tried to grab my feet to try to
protect them. The tip of the incessant swatter
instantly found my uncovered privates. That was all it
took.

"UUUUNCLE!! SHIT, DAMN IT, OUCH!

She shouted, "I WIN!" and tossed her superior weaponry
over her shoulder. I made a mental note to get rid of
that fucking thing the first chance I had.

Whooping and cheering, she dove on my prone body,
covering the myriad red blotches with smoochy kisses
and "Mommy will make it feel better"-type comments. She
was really rubbing it in that she had 'whupped' a 6'3"
man that had about 100 solid, not flabby, pounds on
her. She was all over me, touching, caressing, and
rubbing. I didn't realize she had maneuvered me to the
middle of the sofa until she suddenly settled her
freshly shorn cunt over my face and announced,

"I want my reward!"

I had been planning on being a sore loser, pouting for
a while, but when presented with her own pouting lips
staring me in the face, I felt I could be gracious in
defeat. I grabbed her hips, pulled her down, rolled and
stiffened my tongue and shoved it as far up her ass as
I could.

Her shriek of surprise shattered into giggles. I hadn't
been sure of her reaction to rimming, but she sure
seemed to enjoy it. I wasn't aware of how much she
enjoyed it until she attacked my soft, sore, tired dick
with a ferocity I had not experience that often from
her heretofore.

The way she was going at it, I was more than a little
fearful she would suck it off and swallow it, as that
seemed what she was determined to do. I had hoped to
distract her by fingering her cunt and clit in addition
to tongue-fucking her asshole, but to my amazement and
immense pleasure, she swallowed more and more of my
increasing length as I stiffened.

She gagged slightly as the bulging head slipped down
her throat, but she didn't withdraw. She forced down a
couple of more inches as I became fully hard. I
switched holes, using my tongue in her cunt and my
finger in her ass. She became frantic in her suction,
as if her life depended on it.

Until now, I had never experienced this. Blowjobs,
sure, lots of them, some pretty good, but no one had
ever been able to completely swallow my erect cock. If
I may say so myself, my equipment is a noticeable
upgrade from the standard, average issue, in length,
width, and head size. Ever since Junior High School and
the first fumbling attempts at sex, the girls so
privileged to observe it have been at once fascinated
and frightened when they encountered my cock in an
excited state. So, now, with my cock completely
consumed for the first time ever, I was in absolute
'pig-in-shit' heaven. Bliss. Nirvana. I saw bright
lights, heard angels playing harps, talked with
Elvis...

When I stopped paying attention to her needs, Sally
began gnawing at the base of my cock with her sharp
white teeth. It wasn't exactly gentle either, and I
began to recount all the things I had said and done up
to this point, wondering if I had made a grand
miscalculation somewhere along the way. Then I opened
my eyes, saw a different set of pearly gates, and
remembered I was supposed to be doing something for
her, too. The gnawing didn't stop as I resumed my
duties, but it did lessen a bit. I think.

I don't know how she timed it. Intuition, perception,
maybe she had a link with me, too. But just as I was
becoming truly concerned for the survival of that most
important of my organs, she slipped a moistened finger
up my tightly clenched asshole. I experienced only a
slight discomfort from the intrusion. Like most guys, I
hadn't had much experience with things up my ass other
than my doctor's finger, but I thought I was doing OK
with it and was even planning to escalate the situation
by increasing the number of fingers up her ass to two.
At least, that was my plan until she twisted her tiny
little finger around and massaged my prostate.

I shot my load unexpectedly into her sucking throat. It
was extremely painful. It hurt so bad I passed out. She
told me later that I made a really weird sound, too,
when I shot my wad into her greedy mouth. Like someone
strangling a saxophone. I didn't appreciate finding her
leaning over me, laughing lightly as I regained
consciousness.

"Thank you." That's all she said.

My mind raced. For what, her reward? Losing to her?
Passing out? Help me, please!

"You're welcome. And thank you, back."

Good. Real good. Meat-head.

"What for?" Apparently it was OK for her to ask.

"Thank you for letting me in, really in."

Score one for the side with penises! We could think
fast with both heads! Yep, you betcha!

"Oh." The way she snuggled into my chest seemed to
indicate that I had given the right answer. Then the
other shoe dropped.

"What's the matter? Didn't you like the sex?"

She held me in suspense, and finally collapsed in a
wonderfully ticklish mass of giggles. We were gentler
with each other this time, and she allowed me to win,
crying 'Uncle' only after I had both her hands pinned
to the sofa above her head and still had one hand free
to torment her breasts, ribs, stomach, etc. I spent a
lot of time at her 'etc.' Even then she held out. I
went very slowly to be positive I didn't miss a single
nerve. Sometimes I went back to check on a particular
area again and again. It was a long slow torture for
her until she finally gasped her surrendering 'Uncle."
But only after she climaxed several times.

Her shrieks and peals must have woken Janey. Or it may
have been the racket we made earlier destroying the
family room. Or it could have been all the activity on
their 'link.' Regardless, the traumatized teen was
awake and wandering the house. She was still groggy
from the sedatives the doctor had prescribed for her to
help her sleep.


The first we knew she was awake was when Sally sensed
her in the doorway of the family room. In retrospect,
seeing your Mom and her boyfriend stark naked, their
faces buried in each other's crotches probably wasn't
the best thing to see right after being brutally raped.
Sally tried to think of something to say, but it's hard
to say something socially acceptable and gracious when
your mouth has a death grip on 10 inches of thick
pulsing cock. And a very determined man is gnawing your
hypersensitive clit at the same time. We were
performing a classic '69' on the sofa in the middle of
the afternoon.

Sally slowly pulled her head up off my groin, exposing
my fully hardened length to her daughter for the first
time. She focused on her special link with daughter and
her own extreme happiness and contentedness penetrated
the shell that had begun to harden around Janey,
bringing a spark of life back to the battered girl.

"Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"

"OK, I guess, but not as good as you! Geeze, Mom." She
surveyed the shambles of the room. "No more parties for
you, young lady!" She paused as she looked back at us,
and then half whispered, "God, is that real?" There was
more than a hint of awe in her voice.

I twitched my freestanding shaft on purpose to show her
I knew to what she was referring. Reluctantly Sally
rolled off my face and sat up. I propped myself up with
my elbows, still stretched out on the sofa. Janey
couldn't take her eyes off my erection. I couldn't take
my eyes off Sally. This was a mother bear with a
wounded cub. No way in Hell was I going to make a
misstep here.

Sally looked at me, saw where we were both looking, and
shrugged. We weren't going to be able to ease into
this. All plans for a gradual phase in were off.

"Janey, honey, we need to talk." She patted the cushion
next to her.


Janey looked first at me, then at her mother, tearing
her eyes away from my cock for a moment. I could see
the indecision in the teenager's eyes, the fear and the
pain as she remembered what happened the last time that
she saw a man in my condition. I could also see that
the sexual instincts she shared with Sally were being
activated. Her tearing, blinking eyes reflected the
battle within. I wondered what she was going to do. Was
she going to bolt and maybe never be reachable again or
was she going to stay?


Then, almost imperceptibly, she straightened and I saw
that a decision had been reached. She got that funny
little grin on her face. Her eyes began to shine a
little brighter as her trust in her mother made the
decision for her. She padded toward us, slowly at
first, then with more confidence, more like the old
Janey, and I knew she had made the decision to heal, to
become Janey again and not hide from who she was.


At that moment I was almost convinced that Sally's plan
was the way to go. With this first sign from Janey that
what her mother had said about her was really true, I
was beginning to be at ease with what I had been asked
to do. There was a long way to go, but Janey was
willing to take that journey and now so was I.

The teenager came over and sat between us. She never
took her eyes from my crotch.

"Larry proposed to me today."

"Aww, Mom, he does that all the time."

"I know. But this time, I, uh, accepted." I noticed
there was no mention that I had had to win a tough bet.
I figured discretion was the wiser course and kept
quiet. I could brag about it later, if it ever came up.

Mother and daughter, looking enough alike to be twins,
went through the obligatory female ritual of squeals
and hugs that seems required after such an
announcement. I rolled my eyes at Sally, who was
looking at me over Janey's shoulder. She made a face
and stuck her tongue out at me.

Janey turned to me and hugged me, too, catching me off
guard by her sudden move. I was, after all, stark naked
and very noticeably aroused. She froze after a
momentary hug, her arms still around my neck. I figured
she had just figured out what that pointy thing was
that was jabbing into her side, just below her tits. I
waited for her to wail, cry out, slap me, run from the
room, something. I did not expect her to cling tighter
to my neck, almost strangling me in the process.

"Ssshhh. It will be OK." I softly cooed to the silky
golden hair peeking out of the hooded sweatshirt she
was wearing. Her strands of hair tickled my nose. How
do they always get it to smell so goddamn sexy?
"Everything will be all right. I promise."

I looked up at Sally for help. A fat lot of good that
did. She was doubled over, holding her sides, her fist
stuffed in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Very funny, ha, ha.

"I know that. Just make my Mom happy for now. I need
her to be happy."

"I know. She needs to be happy to help you get well. I
promise I will do my very best."

I kicked at Sally with my foot, trying to get her to
jump in, to say something to help me get out of this
before I did something stupid and scared her daughter
away before we even got started. My efforts resulted in
her rolling on the floor, holding her sides. Tears were
streaming down her face and she was making no attempt
to keep quiet now. She thought this was hilarious. I
plowed on.

"But what about you, can I do anything for you?"
Pushing it, I know, but hey, you would, too, with a
traumatized teenage girl lying on top of your very hard
and very erect erection. "If you ever need
'anything'..."

She giggled, and then gasped. Apparently that link
thing had kicked in with me this time and she
understood what 'anything' meant. I felt her hesitate,
then "Not right now, Larry. I'm too sore. Even just
walking in here hurts. And I'm definitely not ready for
that thing, yet." That last word was added with extra
meaning. I understood. She was one tough young lady. I
wasn't going to scare her off. And it would take a Hell
of a lot more than an adolescent rapist to knock her
out of life, too. She was going to be OK.

"I know, baby. But when you are ready let me know, OK?"

I felt her nod. I changed my tone of voice to what I
imagined a scolding father's would be.

"And one more thing, young lady; you are one absolutely
beautiful girl. If you keep on running around with
nothing on but things like that sexy thick old sweat
suit that you have on now, throwing your gorgeous,
cloth-covered tits in my face like you are now, I may
just have to take you over my lap and spank you. On
your beautiful cotton terrycloth padded ass. I mean
hard, until it's as red as a tomato and you are as hot
as a firecracker." I reached down and gave her a
playful, very gentle, swat on her padded behind. God,
even through what felt like three or four layers of
clothing, those rubbery cheeks felt delicious...

She rose up to check if I was joking, her eyes wide in
shock. When she saw my shit-eating grin looking up at
her, she knew she had been had. She made a face,
reached down and wrapped her slender fingers in a fist
and hit me as hard as she could in the solar plexus. It
took me by surprise and she winded me. First time since
Junior High. Damn! I half expected her to stick out her
tongue, too.

"Same goes for you, too, stud. All this hot, hard cock
meat waving out in the open just might make me do
something rash, too." With that, she kissed me lightly
on the cheek, bounced up and landed with a knee right
where she had just hit me. Damn! She got me twice!

As I lay there gasping for breath, the two women
currently in my life, one naked, the other wearing
every sweat suit she owned, ran out of the family room
hand in hand, laughing hysterically at my perplexed
expression as I watched my exhausted, tired, and
abandoned shaft wilt in the sudden stillness of the
empty room.

I was in way over my head.

Chapter 8

On the following Monday I drove Janey to school. Normal
attendance at the school had been suspended for almost
a week after the attack because of the hoopla and the
police and FBI investigation, so she hadn't missed that
many classes. Janey had wanted to ride the bus as
usual, but Sally was insistent and won this one. It was
on my way to my office, and I had several other errands
to do that couldn't wait much longer. Everyone knew
Sally and Janey from the news, but no one knew me, as I
had stayed in the background and out of the cameras. A
habit from my old job, I guess. As a result, I could
pretty much go into town unnoticed.

It was a pretty quiet ride for the most part, which was
unusual. Not that Janey was a chatterbox, but we had
always been able to talk. It was obvious she was
worried about her reception at school, among other
things weighing heavily on her mind. Janey had her
cheerleading outfit and pom-poms stuffed in a bag on
the floor by her feet. She had decided, on her own, to
resign from the squad. Sally and I both thought it was
a mistake to make this decision so soon, but Sally had
been unable to talk her out of it. I thought I would
give it a shot.

"Gee. I'm sure going to miss that cheerleading outfit."

She looked at me with a puzzled look, her curiosity
piqued, but already suspecting that that extraneous
comment was an attempt to get her to change her mind
about resigning from the squad. Her guard was up.

"Huh?"

I repeated myself. "I'm going to miss that cheerleading
outfit."

No response from the far side of the car. I thought I
had better elaborate. Hell, I had started out by saying
the first thing that came to mind. I went with it. I
can't lie to save a penny, but I can prevaricate with
the best of them.

"Well, you see, your Mom and I play this game sometimes
when you're not home. We didn't think you'd mind. It
was her idea actually. See, she pretends to be a
cheerleader, I'm this hot-shit jock. We go to the High
School and sneak under the bleachers. Yada yada yada."
This was almost too close to the truth of what happened
to her, but it was too late to stop by the time I
realized where I was going with it.

"She is so hot and God, sooooo sexy in that tight
sweater, that short white skirt and those tiny red
panties. Yup, we sure had some really hot times under
there, and in the locker rooms, both the boys and the
girls. And the showers - you get the picture. Oh, yeah,
once we did it at center court and almost got caught by
the principal. It was great! I tell you, I'm really
going to really miss that uniform. Oh, shit, then there
was the time in the mud on the 50-yard line. We thought
we'd never get that sweater clean again. Bet you
couldn't tell, could you?"

"You did it center court? In my outfit? Ewww! Gross!"
She pulled her hands off the bag like it was full of
dirty underwear.


We rode in silence for a while.

"You really think Mom looks sexy in my outfit?" I
figured she was thinking about how much alike they
looked. If Mom was sexy, she was sexy, too, right?

I didn't say anything in response. I just made an
obscene gesture with my mouth, beating the tip of my
tongue rapidly up and down between my slightly parted
lips like I did on Sally's clit whenever I could. She
got the picture, vividly.

"Ooooo, Larry. That's gross. You two are sick."

I laughed, and she stared out the window on her side,
ignoring me the rest of the way to the High School. She
made me drop her off a block before the school. I
dropped her off and watched her safely into the school.
Only then did I go to change my clothes before going in
to work. It had been an unexpectedly long time since I
had had a chance to get a change of clothes. About
halfway to my apartment I noticed the bag on the floor,
her cheerleading stuff still inside. I did a 'happy,
happy, joy, joy' dance in the car seat the rest of the
way to my apartment.

I was still grinning like an idiot when I got to my
office. There, I gave my boss the option of an extended
leave or my resignation, his choice. He surprised me
and countered with a home-office package. I hesitated,
thinking it would be more work, less pay and that I
would still be coming into the office five times a
week. When he doubled my salary and my vacation,
effective immediately, and made all contact through
FAX, phone or e-mail, I agreed. Geeze, twist my arm,
why don't you? It was nice to be appreciated, though. I
cleared out my desk, set up contact schedules with my
secretary, who was now promoted to my personal
assistant, and left.

Sally convinced me I should move in with the two of
them full time and made room in her closets for my
stuff. So my next stop was the manager at my complex.
He made noises about 90-day notice, forfeiture of all
deposits, and broken leases.

I simply turned his telephone around, punched on the
speakerphone and dialed the local cable company. When
he heard the receptionist answer, "Hello. This is Cable
Com. How may I help you?" he paled and disconnected the
call faster that I had thought his fat fingers could
move.

I walked out of his office a homeless person, free of
all legal obligations. I had had to promise him I
wouldn't call the cable company again. For that, he
would tear up my contract. I fully intended to keep my
promise to him, as I didn't need to call them again. I
had already placed a call to them from my apartment
before I went into his office. I figured they would be
arriving in less than 3 minutes, probably with the
police. I hoped they would get there before he had time
to rip out all the illegal wiring and the illegal
descrambler boxes he had installed. That motherfucker
had set up his own little cable company, using a
pirated signal, and had charged every single tenant the
normal hook-up fees and monthly service, including pay-
per-view and premium channels. Being caught red-handed
like I hoped he was going to be would mean fines and
maybe even some jail time for the fat bastard.

The cavalry arrived just as I was pulling out of the
parking lot. Payback is a bitch, isn't it?

Sally survived Janey's first day back at school. It had
helped a lot when I handed her the bag with her
cheerleading stuff still inside. She looked up at me
with a question in her eyes. I simply kissed her smooth
forehead.

"Uh, you probably don't want to know exactly what I
said to her, but we should probably make sure to get it
cleaned real good if you were to ever put it on and
sneak into the High School gym with me some night. Have
you ever thought about role-playing as a cheerleader
and me as big hot stud? You might want to give it some
thought, just in case. Or try to remember the time we
rolled around in the mud in the middle of the football
field..."

"But we never did that!"

"I know that, and you know that, but Janey doesn't know
that. But, well, she might have gotten the impression
that we had done something like that. So I figured we
might as well, no?" I gave her my best evil grin. "How
about right now?"

Her laughter was musical, the first I had heard from
her in a long, long time. It felt good to hold her in
my arms and see her smiling face looking up into mine.
It made me feel like I could conquer the world. I told
her about the rest of my day as we unloaded boxes from
my car. It all fit in a tiny corner of the garage. Not
much to show for 34 years.

Sally was pleased it had worked out for me to work out
of the house. She suddenly found she needed me to be
there for her at odd times, kind of like a stabilizer.
She took me through the house, offering me my pick of
rooms to use for my office.

Remembering back to last week and still curious, I
suggested the cellar. She hesitated. Instantly sensing
something secret about to be dug up, I played innocent
and persisted, saying how ideal it would be, how I
would be there whenever she needed, but out of sight at
the same time. I wouldn't bother her with the phone
calls, or the faxes or my music. I suggested maybe just
a part of the cellar could be converted into an office.
Babbling enthusiastically at this great idea of mine, I
grabbed her hand and started towards the cellar door.

She didn't stop me, but she did lag behind. I sort of
had to drag her along, actually. I got to the door and
with a flourish and a bow said, "Ladies first, madam."

She went down the stairs like a condemned woman. This
just got more and more curious.

The harsh light from the single overhead bare bulb
revealed nothing out of the ordinary: laundry area,
heating and cooling systems, water heater, and storage
area. There was nothing down here that should have
taken up so much of her time the last five days. She
would disappear down here for hours at a time, coming
back up without a word of explanation and noticeably
subdued.

I looked around the barren space again for something I
had missed. Ah-ha! A door! A locked door was discretely
hidden behind a storage shelf.

So, that's almost nothing out of the ordinary. I
charged on.

"Not much room down here. It's kind of dingy, too. Hey,
what's in here?" I went over and tried the door. As I
suspected, it was locked. "Hey! It seems to be stuck.
Could you give me a little help here, Dearest?" I gave
her my most innocent, endearing look.

She dug her hand in the back pocket of her jeans and
pulled out an impressive electronic key card. Hell, we
didn't have security like this at my office, and they
handled bundles of cash! I accepted it with a raised
eyebrow. Sally just blushed and looked at her feet.

I slid the key through the reader and pulled on the
door handle. The surprisingly heavy door opened
silently to reveal - nothing but total blackness. I
reached in to find the light switch on the wall and
found - nothing. I looked at the walls next the
entrance. Nothing. I turned to look at Sally.

Silently she moved to my right and slid the card
through a second reader slot in the doorframe. The
lights in the mysterious room came on.

I pulled her into my arms before I went in to see what
was in this special room. She was turned so that her
back was to my chest. I could feel the tension in her.
I put my arms around her, under her arms and held my
hands together in front of her belt buckle. I stepped
back, away from the doorway, pulling her with me.

"I can wait for whatever this is until you're ready."

She let the offer echo against the concrete walls of
the utility area for a while, then brought her hands up
from her sides and held onto mine. Her grip was tight,
like she was afraid of my reaction to what I would see.
I'll give her credit, though. In spite of her fears,
she stepped forward, pulling me along with her.
Together we stepped into the room, into her secret
place.

I gazed around the room, turning us in a complete
circle before speaking. "I don't think I need this much
security for my office, Sally. The guest room at the
end of the hallway will be just fine."

I walked out of the room, taking her with me. We almost
made it up to the top of the stairs before she jammed
on the brakes.

"No." She took a deep breath. "Damn you, you bastard!"
She was so mad she hissed when she said that. "Did you
know what was in there?"

"Nope. Not a clue. Honestly, not a clue. If I had
known, I wouldn't have pushed you just now."

She sighed. "I know. It's just that this is so
personal. It's my Achilles' Heel, and I feel like I'm
handing it to you gift-wrapped. I've never felt so
naked, so vulnerable in my entire life. Do you know
what that's like?"

"I can imagine. I can wait until you're ready to let me
in there with you. I'm probably more scared of that
stuff than you are. You, at least, know what those
things are and how to use them. I only recognized a
couple of things."

She tilted her head back and gave me a funny look. My
admission of ignorance was almost bewildering to her.
Seeing that I wasn't going to push her to go back in,
or maybe it was my sincere ignorance that helped her
make up her mind. Regardless, she took me back down the
stairs and into the room, this time with a sure step.

When she had told me earlier of her previous boyfriend,
Sally had said she had been addicted to bondage. She
had been really addicted. For a rich person, addictions
are dangerous things. For the next two hours she led me
around the cavernous room, showing me her various
collections of gear. Some of it I could figure out.
Others had helpful illustrations of how to operate, use
or wear the whatchamacallits. Many, no, most of the
things down there were things I had never seen or even
dreamed of. And they were almost all custom-made.
Expensive.

She stayed in my arms throughout the tour, guiding me
around from one collection to another. She was quiet,
just letting me absorb as much as I could take.

I had done fine, reaction-wise, until the third set of
items she took me to. The illustrations for this
collection used photos of actual models. The model in
the vivid color photo was unmistakably Sally. My gasp
was very audible in the quiet dungeon.

I couldn't help it. I went both ways. My hands
protectively moved up and gently cupped around her
breasts and my cock, with its own mind, tried to punch
a hole in my slacks. I couldn't take my eyes off the
photo of her, bound and gagged, the red leather of taut
straps encircling her body, highlighting her blonde
hair. The position she was forced into was awkward. It
looked painful, the straps obviously tight. I could see
the beads of sweat on her chin, the high stiff collar
forcing it awkwardly upwards.

There was more, much more. When we were done, I had
seen at least five recognizable photos of Sally, each
with her in the strictest bondage imaginable. As we
left, we locked the door. When it was secured, she
handed me the key, pressing it into my hand. This time,
we made it all the way back to the kitchen. She poured
us some coffee and we sat down at the table, each lost
in our own thoughts.

It was quiet for a long time around the table, the
coffee beginning to cool.

"I'm going to need some time to work up to your level.
I don't know if I..."

Her sob stopped me in mid sentence. The tension flowed
out of her as her relief at not being rejected flooded
over her. She flew across the table into my arms,
spilling the forgotten coffee over the table and onto
the floor.

I only said one more thing to her about it.

"Get rid of the stuff that makes you uncomfortable or
brings back any bad memories. Keep the things you want,
of course, but you and I will build our own collection,
together. Also, take down the pictures. You are truly
beautiful in them, and in some of them I can begin to
see what you like about this. I don't want to share you
or this with anyone right now. I want this to grow
between us, at our own speed. This will be our joy, our
passion. OK?"

Sometimes you get lucky and say the right thing.

She never explained why she had set the room back up
after all those years. I never asked. I handed her back
the key and motioned for her to take them. She spent
several days sorting through the items, and later
several large trucks came and went, picking up and
delivering huge crates.

I went back down to the cellar after she returned the
key. The room was nearly empty, or seemed so, as there
was still a considerable amount of stuff in it, some of
it new. That surprised me. I studied it all carefully,
making mental notes of consistent themes. The photos
were still down there, the entire collection this time.
They were not displayed, but locked in a new safe. The
key was on the top. Inside the safe were literally
hundreds of photos. She had sorted them
chronologically, and they showed her in all sorts of
progressively lurid situations, first singly, then with
one, later with multiple partners. She was always bound
in some manner, but towards the end only minimally. It
was too restrictive for the others. Her bondage was
just a teaser, to whet her appetite, to keep her
hungry.

It was not hard to pick out Gary in the pictures,
especially in the last series. He was the bastard with
his hands on an 11 year old girl's chest, pinning her
back against his groin, forcing her to watch her mother
being sexually humiliated by four men and two women. He
was the fifth man she had mentioned earlier.

I memorized his face. I would never forget it.

Over the next week, I carefully went though the photos,
automatically cataloging the people in them in my mind
as I had been trained to do so many years before. I
forced myself to look at each one. Those people had
touched my love in intimate ways. It was somehow
personal, even though we hadn't met at the time. When I
was finished reviewing them, I locked them away along
with the negatives. I kept the early ones of Sally by
herself in a separate file. The ones when she was
happiest.

I also kept out one other single photo. I took it back
with me to my office. It was a simple blowup of just
the face of a very brave little blonde girl. Crying.
Scared.

Chapter 9

Strangely enough, as exciting as I found the prospect
of introducing bondage into our relationship to be,
Sally and I didn't start using the cellar right away.
She was ready, more than ready, but she understood I
was not there yet. There was a large part of it I
wasn't comfortable with, not the least of which was the
pain involved. I didn't talk about it either, although
I spent many long hours down there by myself, thinking,
trying to understand what this was all about, what this
would do to our relationship, what part I could and
would be willing to play. I had several issues to deal
with. Until I was ready, I wasn't going to bring it any
further into our relationship than it had already
intruded.

As time went by, slowly, the three of us settled into a
kind of routine. Janey had school, I had work and
Sally, and Sally had Janey. Then school ended for the
summer and we both had Janey. She just kind of hung
around, underfoot.

Neither Sally nor I were prepared for her listlessness.
This active, goal-oriented teenager was suddenly mashed
potatoes. By the end of the second week of summer break
I got fed up with tripping over her, getting no civil
response to reasonable questions, and the mindless
drivel she was watching - or at least staring at on TV.
Something drastic was called for, so I did something
impulsive. Well, OK, so I planned it first. The two
girls thought it was impulsive, and that's all that
counts, right? I quietly made several telephone calls
and pulled in some favors. Everything fell neatly into
place, as I had hoped - prayed? - it would. Clout is
really nice when you have it.

That night at dinner I announced I would be in charge
of the entire next day. They could like it or not, tuff
shit. I told them they could call their friends and
cancel any plans, as I was not taking "No" as an answer
from either one of them. I would give them the
itinerary, their instructions and their clothing in the
morning. That raised at least one eyebrow. Then I left
the house. I didn't want to take a chance on either one
of them talking me out of it or digging out the
surprise. I knew my limits with these two and when it
came to giving in and giving up, I was an expert.

On my return with several small packages, Sally hovered
about, sniffing for a hint. But no amount of wheedling,
and God, could she wheedle, produced the slightest
whiff of the next day's events.

The next morning, I got them up early. On each of their
beds were three packages, numbered 1, 2, and 3. Sally
tore into her boxes like it was Christmas. The first
box held a pair of shorts, a half-T, and tennis shoes,
with bootie socks, nothing else. The disappointment in
her eyes almost made me fess up to the plans for the
day. The second sack contained a baseball glove.

Clearly puzzled, and slightly more curious now, she
opened the third. A baseball cap and a pennant from a
near-by AAA baseball team and a ticket for tonight's
game. She grinned at me, lighting the room. It was all
the thanks I needed.

She gestured towards the two skimpy pieces of clothing.
"Anything else?"

I shook my head, grinning.

Her eyes widened as she eyeballed the slight droop of
her breasts against the bottom hem of the shirt.

"I'll have to be careful."

"Please, not on my account!" I said, grinning from ear
to ear. I hoped I had estimated it just right. Janey's
top was even shorter. Both of them would be very aware
of their cock teasing attire the entire day. All I
could do was hope for an exciting game and that we
didn't run into any drunk or overly aggressive males. I
was prepared to deal swiftly should one - or more - get
within a grab of either of my girls, especially Janey.
That would set her back a lot, but I had always
believed that without risk, there is no gain. I applied
that philosophy to life as well as my finances.

Sally went in to help Janey get ready, her infectious
laughter soon joined by her daughter's gasps and
giggles. I heard Janey protest

"But, Mom, I've never dressed like this to go out in
public!"

"I know, dear. Me neither. But it's what he wants for
today."

"I, uh, we both look like cock teasers!"

"Then I guess we'll just have to play the part he wants
us to play. But for today only, clear?"

More giggles followed with some practice tease lines
and outrageous blatant poses in front of the mirror in
Janey's room. I watched from the doorway as both
figured out how high they could move their arms or
shrug their shoulders before they exposed themselves to
their viewing public. It was going to be impossible to
avoid, and they both agreed that if you can't beat 'em,
join 'em.

Sally gasped as Janey walked across the room. We all
saw her bounce in and out of view just from walking. I
guess I got her shirt a bit too short. Sally glared at
me in the mirror as I shrugged an "oops" to her. I
really hadn't meant it to be that short. She then got a
funny look in her eye, pulled out some scissors and
trimmed a good two inches off her own shirt. She
couldn't even take a deep breath without showing it
all.

"There, that's better, don't you think?"

They linked arms, grinning conspiratorially, and
announced they were ready to go.

Over the first hurdle, but oh, so many more to go...

I whistled appreciatively at the two goddesses and
handed them each a light windbreaker on the way out the
door, telling them to hurry as we had to keep to the
schedule. Sally checked her ticket for the time of the
game. It didn't start until 7:00 that night and the
stadium was only 60 miles away. She shrugged and helped
me get Janey into the back seat of my car. Neither
wanted the cover of the windbreakers, so the light
jackets went into the trunk, along with the baseball
gloves.

I took the long way around, heading to the next town
over from the stadium. There I stopped for breakfast at
a health food place I had invested in several years
prior. I had warned the folks who ran it I might stop
in, with my 'special' guests, and they really put on a
show for us.

Janey thought all I ate was artery-clogging processed
foods, and when I pulled into this out of the way
place, she figured it was a greasy spoon, and said as
much. Sally was just as bewildered, but more observant.
She saw the high-end autos in the parking lot and the
sleekness of the clientele. The high-tech, high-priced
exercise facility attached to the restaurant clued her
in that this just might be something other than what it
appeared.

Janey turned suddenly modest and we could only get her
to come in after I had retrieved the light jackets from
the trunk. She was still somewhat reticent, but when
she suddenly spied a young waiter, a 'hunk with buns,'
as she described him, she said she would come with us
if we could sit at his station. Thank you, God, for
raging hormones. I told her I would see what I could
do, and in we went.

I think Janey would have eaten lard on pork rinds that
morning and not noticed. That poor waiter was run
ragged. She had him take back the yogurt, because it
wasn't ripe yet. Then the toast because it was too
light, then too dark, then too hard, and so on. The
water was too warm, there was a microscopic nick in her
glass, her place settings didn't match Sally's and
mine, then they didn't match the table next to us and
it clashed, upsetting her appetite. She almost drooled
as she stared at his butt as he walked back to the
kitchen, again. And again. And again. I will admit, she
was rather inventive and kept him busy running back and
forth the whole time we were there.

I was trying to hold a conversation with my partners,
the owners, introducing them to Sally. We had to point
at Janey during the introductions, as her attention was
elsewhere. Several times we were interrupted by raucous
laughter from the tables around us. Most of the patrons
sitting around us had caught on to what Janey was
doing, and were thoroughly enjoying the floorshow. Some
even helped out, sending the poor waiter past our table
so Janey could get an additional eyeful.

With all the complaints Janey was making, the mangers
were worried that things weren't going well and
mentioned that the waiter, on his first day, might not
make it to his second. Sally reassured them that he was
doing just fine, that the problem was much more of her
daughter's doing than anything else. I, too, reassured
them that, knowing Janey and her determination, there
was absolutely nothing the poor kid could do about it.
I intended to leave a substantial tip for the poor
rookie.

He was coming towards our table, lugging an over-full,
ill-stacked tub of dirty dishes, when Janey gave him
her own special gratuity. Her windbreaker had fallen
open just so, and, as she caught his eye, she winked,
slowly raising both her hands to re-adjust the baseball
cap on her head. It took her a long time to get it just
right. Her 'tips,' framed by the dark windbreaker,
riveted him, as well as several lucky tables behind
him. Stunned, he dropped the tub, breaking every dish
in it with a crash that silenced every conversation in
the room.

I watched her flash him from my seat. I had a clear
view of what she had done and what he could see.
Considering I had only left money, I figured she had
given him the better tip. Mine would just about cover
the breakage. Hers would last him a lifetime.
Unbeknownst to me, Sally slipped him a $50.00 bill and
a peck on the cheek on the way out. Who knows what she
showed him as she did that? Or where she had the bill
stashed?

The next stop was a long ways off. I urged them to use
the facilities before we got underway. Both snapped
very erotic nipple-flashing salutes with an "Aye, aye,
Sir" and marched off to the ladies room. Time passed,
and I finally wandered out to the car to wait for them
there. I was standing next to my car when an old family
friend and his wife drove up and we began to talk,
catching up on mutual acquaintances from home. I had my
back turned to the restaurant and wasn't aware the
girls were approaching until I heard,

"Hey, mista. If we show ya our boobies, will ya give us
a ride in yer big red car? I'll letcha play with mine
if I can drive it. Huh? I get my license next year and
I need the practice. Whaddya say? Deal? Here, feel
hers, too. Hers ain't real, mine are! Feel the
difference?"

My friend turned apoplectic as the two temptresses
clung to me, one on each arm. As they rubbed their
chests up and down my arms they showed my friend and
his wife their goodies. I started to introduce Sally
and Janey to them, but something was different about
them. It took a minute, then it hit me. They had
changed their hair. Both now had twin pig tails of
hair, sprouting out of their heads almost sideways. And
the makeup was either gone, or so artfully applied that
they looked - both of them - no older than 14. 15 max.
I didn't think I could introduce a cock-teasing 15-year-
old as 'my intended' with a straight face, so I grabbed
a handful of ass in each hand and said,

"Sure, kids. Climb in. Say, I think I've got some candy
in my pocket. Why don't you reach in and see if you can
find it?"

I winked at my friend and his red-faced wife, mouthed
'Let's do lunch,' and hustled the two vixens into my
car. They both waved 'Goodbye' enthusiastically, much
to the visible delight of the old man.

I would have a lot of explaining to do to my friend,
the judge, when we got around to that lunch.

Chapter 10

"That nice old man you two were flashing was Judge
Hawthorne, of the State Supreme Court, and his wife. He
was a partner in the law firm with my father before his
appointment to the bench. I, uh, dated their daughter
for a long time. Our families are close, or at least
they were, until today."

"And you didn't even introduce me! Aren't I your
fianc,? Are you ashamed of me already?"

I stopped the car and pulled off to the side of the
road. They had switched seats, with Sally sitting in
the back.

"I have never been more proud of you. It's just that,
well, their daughter still thinks of me as her property
sort of, and they were expecting her to arrive at any
moment. Her mother supports her daughter fully in that
fantasy, too, by the way. And you know how it is with
mothers and daughters, right?"

"You mean if we had stayed, I could have met a piece of
your past?"

"She was never a 'piece' of my past. I was a 'piece' to
her, like a trophy or furniture. And no, I never got a
'piece' from her. First she played hard to get, then
hard to lose."

"So, that old broad didn't look too spry. Whatsa matta,
don'cha think we could take 'em?"

"Believe me, I would almost pay money to see you two
tangle with those two. WWF would lose rating points
that night. Seriously, when you do meet them, and you
will, don't turn your back on them if you're near the
serving line, too many knives lying around. And always
stay close to at least two witnesses."

Janey's eyes were as big as saucers as she followed
this conversation. At least she didn't think I was
joking.

I made a mental note to schedule a lunch with ol'
Thorny for the next week. He'd already gotten a good
rise out of this story. I'd just fill in a few blanks,
beginning with Janey's attack, to help him smooth it
out at home. He understood daughters. He just had no
idea how to control his own.

Following breakfast we headed to a much larger city
about an hour away, but again it was in the wrong
direction from the stadium. Sally and Janey were back
to behaving like perfect brats. If not clean, at least
it was a lot of fun. Comments about "taking the long
way," "are we there yet?," "is this the right road,"
"is this an away game," 'and "I have to stop and go
potty" came out of the passenger and rear seats with
increasing frequency the farther we got from the
night's destination.

Both girls quieted down, however, as I pulled into the
parking area of a very exclusive section of the city.
Both of them knew exactly where we were. It was a
shoppers' paradise, a ten-square block area of downtown
filled with boutiques and specialty shops. Both had
hinted strongly over the last year or so that this was
'the' place they would really like to visit, e.g. to
spend my money. What they didn't know was that I had
put this whole area together personally, and knew all
of the shop owners very well. The owners were not just
owners, but skilled craftsmen.

This exclusive area was known as 'The Guild' and that
is exactly what it was: A throwback to the times when
the guild craftsmen established the acceptable levels
of workmanship and art, not Wal-Mart or K-Mart
shoppers. It had been hugely successful, even to the
point of being frequently and occasionally fairly well
imitated in other cities. The waiting list to get into
my shops was long and getting longer. The quality of
the work done here was becoming world renowned as the
standard to meet. The prices of the pieces crafted here
were understandably and justifiably exorbitant, and
best of all, it made huge returns for my real-estate
investment and management company. And me.

I had been awarded a sizable stake in the project based
on its success, and I had received additional
incentives as I continued to manage it to greater
heights - and profits. My share had grown to a small
fortune over the last 10 years. It wasn't all paper
profit, either. I made sure I got cash flow out of it.
Today I was going to start plowing back into the shops
a lot of that capital, but if what I had planned worked
out, it would be well worth it.

For the next several hours, we wandered up and down the
narrow cobblestone streets, apparently just shopping.
We were actually on a very organized schedule. Sally
began to suspect something after about the third shop I
specifically guided them into.

The routine was the same in each shop. As we entered,
the artist or shopkeeper would welcome me warmly by
name, making the effort to come out and greet me with
unrehearsed enthusiasm. The other customers, if any,
would be gently, but quickly, ushered out, and a
"Private Showing, Please Return in One Hour" sign set
in the window. Shades were drawn to curious passersby,
and then both girls would be measured in a manner
appropriate to the craft of the artisan. The persons
measuring them would always be women, never men, though
there were a couple of them I wasn't sure about. Sally
made sure Janey was never left alone with those two
clerks.

In the boot-maker's shop they had two plaster castings
made of their legs and lower torso, one with their toes
pointed straight down, the other standing normally. At
the dressmaker's shop, a whole body cast was made of
each of my girls. Similarly, at the foundation shop,
another cast was made, but of only the torso and upper
thighs. For each cast, some or usually all of their
minimal clothing would be removed, they would be
powdered, placed in molds, the quick-dry plaster poured
and dried. Afterwards, they would be offered a shower,
refreshment, and then efficiently ushered back to the
waiting room or back office where I would be talking to
the owner.

We were right on schedule as we turned into the third
to the last shop on my agenda for the day. These last
three stops would be tricky. I pulled Sally to the
side.

"I need to speak with Janey for a moment. Will you
please cooperate and not have as much fun as you have
been having so far today? It is important."

Her eyes danced as she considered her answer. With a
nod of her head, she reached up and kissed me on the
cheek.

"You're in charge today, remember? All you have to do
is ask. I will do whatever you say."

I could hear the devil in her voice. Then she got
serious and her voice got tight.

"I do love you, you know. I don't know what you're
trying to do, but I am having a hell of a lot more fun
than I thought I would. Best ball game I've ever been
to. Hint, hint?"

"Oh, we'll get there, all in good time. Now, please
send your lovely daughter over here so I can speak with
her."

I paused, still holding her close to me.

"I love you, too, Sal, more than life. Cross your
fingers that what I have planned works out."

I think that last part shook her a bit. One thing, I
only called her 'Sal' when I get dead serious. It was
the kind of signal that develops between two people
when they get close. My signal told her I was scared
and on unfamiliar ground. I wasn't at all sure of the
rules of this game or of their reactions. I hoped
beyond hope I had not miscalculated the day's events or
the roles I had them playing.

It was a game, we all knew it. I knew Sally was having
fun. Hell, she needed the stress relief almost more
than Janey. Still, she was over-playing it just a bit.
I hoped she would tone it down, or I would be molesting
them both inside the hour. I'm not made of stone, and
while Sally wouldn't have minded, it would have
defeated the whole point with Janey.

Sally brought Janey over to me in front of a men's
clothing storefront. The girl's bouncing step told me
Sally had not said anything to dampen her daughter's
behavior. Her nipples peeked up at me, flashing in and
out of cover as she came to a stop before me. God, how
much longer... Sally started to move away.

"No, Sally, you can stay and listen, if you want. I
won't be giving away any secrets."

I grinned at her, and she made an impish face back,
getting back into her role for the day. Good.

"Janey, I need you to be serious for a moment and
listen carefully. We have had a lot of fun today, and
there is more to come, I promise, regardless of what
happens now. I know I said I was in charge today, and
you and your Mom have given me more credit for being
responsible than I deserve. But I can't make the next
two choices for you. I'm sorry to have to do this
today, in the middle of the fun, but I couldn't avoid
it."

I paused, and not for effect. This was touchy ground.
Well, best said straight out, right?

"The next two stores have to do with blatantly sexual
items..."

Sally's eyes widened. We were standing across the
street from a Tack Shop. Her grin made my heart stop,
then take off like a rocket. She had just figured out
what all the fittings were for in the shops prior to
this one. She was pleased. Boy, would I get lucky
tonight! When I continued, her expression changed from
adoration to mortification.

"...that your Mom and I may make use of in the future.
I can't ask you to come in, and I can't make you stay
out. If you come in with us, you will be measured,
probably by a man, same as your Mom. If you stay
outside, I have arranged for you to be some place safe
while your Mom and I are inside. The measurements will
be extremely personal and a bit uncomfortable. Do you
understand? Do you have any questions?"

She was thoughtful for a moment. Like her mom, her
ditzy act was just that. She was fully aware of what
she was doing.

"If I go in, does it commit me to do anything in the
future?"

"No. I would never force you to do anything you don't
want to. That's why I'm asking you this."

"If I stay out here, can I still play the ditzy blonde
babe?"

"Actually, I have arranged for you to tour the nun's
cloister, just around the corner. Only women are
allowed in. I don't think it would be appropriate for
you to behave in an unseemly way. Do you?

"Nah. What's the next store? Can I skip this one and go
to the next. I'm not really into horses and that
bestiality crap. That's more her thing."

Sally just about choked on her wad of gum at that.
Apparently, they were after each other's goats as well
as mine.

"Sorry, it's a take both or leave both offer."

"Do you want me to go in?"

This last was said in a small voice, while desperately
searching my eyes for an answer. I leaned over and
kissed her on the forehead. She hated that. Now, there
was no shrinking away from my lips as I spoke so low
only she could here.

"Janey, I only want you to be happy..."

I looked across at Sally, who was waiting intently for
Janey's decision. She knew it was one she could not
help her with.

"...just like I want your Mom to be happy."

Janey looked at her mother, and I guess they linked or
something. They both held out their hands to me and we
went in to the Tack Shop together. Me and two very
excited cock-teasing nymphettes.

They settled down quickly once we entered the store. I
swear Sally had an orgasm from just the aroma of
leather that swept over us as we went through the
display area. She stopped stock still, then moved as if
in a dream over to a display of a riding saddle and
some bridles. Equestrian, not human. She let the
sensuous leather of the saddle brush across the exposed
lower sides of her breasts as she rubbed them back and
forth. Her hands first touched and then wound
themselves around in the soft caresses of the bridles
hanging down from the high ceiling. She was lost in
another world.

Janey watched her mother then turned to look at me with
death in her eyes. She had seen this before, had gone
through this with her once before. It had not been
particularly pleasant for her, either. I could
understand her rage.

"I am not Gary. I will not hurt her or expose her to
shame. I promise you that, Janey."

I could not say anything else. I think she sensed my
hesitation with this bondage stuff that I was being
pulled into it by her mother's tremendous needs and
desires, not the other way around. She also sensed her
mother's intense need. And I think she was also a bit
curious about what attracted her mother into it. She
was, after all, her mother's daughter.

The fire receded, leaving a bright twinkle. We
understood each other. Kind of.

The owner, a rather young man in his twenties, came
over and greeted me, as had the other shopkeepers. As
there were no other customers, he simply locked the
door and lowered the "Closed" sign. Turning, he held up
two fingers with a questioning look.

I nodded.

He looked at Janey and blushed deeply. I hoped he could
get through this with his dignity intact. I had warned
him of her beauty, both their beauty, but he was
younger, closer to Janey's age. To him, she wasn't as
far off limits.

Due to the types of measurements he would need to make,
he could not use a clerk. The person had to know the
craft. He didn't have a clerk experienced enough,
anyway. His only helper, an apprentice of less that 3
months, was even younger than Amud. The apprentice had
been given a sudden, unexpected rare day off. The
shopkeeper went silently to the back office and opened
the door. He signaled to someone inside.

I stiffened immediately. The arrangements had been for
absolutely no one else. This was private.

A diminutive figure walked into the showroom. The
owner's eyes were beaming with pride. As the short
figure came closer, I saw it was a young woman, about
his age.

"Mr. Sampson. I would like to introduce you my wife,
Bala. If is acceptable, she will be the measurements
making. She, uh, understands the things you will need,
and has suggestions maybe, if it pleases you to hear of
them. I apologizes it to you, but I will need it to
observe to make sure taping is done correctly and to
interpret. She does not speak the good English."

He waited for my consent. Interesting. He had solved
his and my problems at the same time. I nodded in
agreement.

_

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