Chapter 4
Frieda rolled over on her stomach and unfastened the top of her two-piece blue bathing suit. She had just come out of the pool, and decided to dry off on the air mattress in the hot sun. Brian, Betty and her mother had gone into town to do some shopping for the coming bridal shower, and she wanted to stay at home and relax. Had Max been home, she would have had other thoughts. But he and his retarded son Tom were gone for the day, presumably fishing.
"Umm, that sun feels good," she said closing her eyes. Yesterday at this same time she, Betty and Brian were busy enjoying themselves in her bedroom. She could still feel Brian's probing tongue, sliding over her clit, his lips gently sucking at the tiny swollen knob, driving her up the wall. She could smell Betty's cunt juice leaking from between her fluttering pussy lips, could feel the mixture of saliva and juice trickle over her lips, into her mouth, down her cheeks. She could feel Brian's hands moving slowly up her legs, creeping toward her fuck-hungry cunt. ..
Suddenly Frieda realized that somebody was feeling her leg. Spinning around quickly she saw Max standing over her, leering at her exposed tits and rubbing a conspicuous bulge between his legs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Frieda sputtered, grabbing her top and trying to cover her tits. Max reached out and grabbed the garment, tearing it away from her and throwing it into the pool. Frieda knew she was in trouble. "You're supposed to be fishing." "I am, I am," Max said. A twisted smile covered his face while he leered at her, fumbling at the bulge between his legs. "Want a feel?"
"You're disgusting," Frieda said, getting up and walking quickly toward the house. Max was too quick for her, however, and he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her roughly to the ground.
"So, you're too good, eh? What's so classy about these?"
Frieda watched Max reach between the buttons of his shirt and pull out some photos. He threw them down to her and she gasped. They were photos of her, Brian and Betty fucking and sucking. So, she was right. Somebody had been taking pictures, and that somebody was Max! "H-h-how did y-you ..."
"Aw, shit, girl. I came in the house after Betty. She didn't see me, but I heard you and that fuckin' wimp of a brother of yours moanin' and groanin'. She knew what was happening, and so did I. It didn't take too much trouble to figure out the whole scene, and to get shots of it. I figured you'd all be so taken up with each other that you wouldn't notice a bomb going off."
Frieda stared at the photos for what seemed like hours. She wanted to as Max a question, but was afraid. Finally, she mustered the courage. "What do you want?"
Max threw back his head and laughed sadistically. "What do you think?" he said, leering at her bare tits. Frieda swallowed hard and looked away. If she gave in this one time, it would be no guarantee that he'd leave her alone in the future. But, she reasoned, she had no choice.
"O.K. Where do you want to go?" she said, trying not to appear too disgusted by the idea.
"Hold it, not so fast. You're not getting off that easily. You've been wiggling that twat around here like you're some kind of fuckin' princess or something when you're just a two-bit bitch! You're gonna pay for that, slut, and pay good. Get the fuck up and follow me!" Max commanded roughly.
Frieda was terrified. This was a new side of Max, an aspect of his personality that frightened her. He had always been a lecher, but now he was brutal. She followed her stepfather into the house and down the kitchen stairs into the basement. It was dark, but she could sense that there was somebody there besides the two of them.
"Who's there?" Frieda asked nervously.
"Unnnh!" was the reply. Frieda's blood ran cold. She recognized the grunt as her stepbrother's voice...Tommy, a twenty-year-old man with an eight-year-old mind. Suddenly, she knew what Max wanted. He was going to force her to fuck Tommy. The idea of fucking him shook her with revulsion.
"Poor Tommy here doesn't have the advantages some of us do. But, he's got all the natural urges. Frieda, as his stepsister, you should help him out." Max spoke softly as he walked slowly around her, tracing his right forefinger along her bare back and sides. Frieda's eyes had become adjusted to the darkness now, and she saw Tom sitting in a chair, fingering his limp cock and staring at her hungrily.
"I told Tom what to expect. You can see he's ready."
Jesus, she thought, looking at her stepbrother. Tom sat there smiling stupidly at her, a tiny river of spittle dribbling out of one comer of his mouth and down his cheek.
"Blow him!" Max ordered.
Frieda couldn't believe what she had heard.
"I..." Frieda felt a heavy hand slap her across the shoulders and down to the floor.
"Blow him, I said." Frieda started to get up, but Max shoved her back onto the floor. "On your knees. I want you to crawl the rest of the way."
Frieda looked up and saw Max's threatening face. "All right," she said finally.
God! What complete humiliation. She scraped her knees raw on the cement floor crawling over to Tom. Finally she was within only inches of his cock. It had swollen somewhat since she had last looked at it. Tom pointed to his prick and started jumping up and down, moaning in delighted expectation, Frieda shuddered and bent forward. It was uncircumcised, and a leathery sheath of skin covered most of the knob. Frieda took the prick in her right hand and pinched it gently. She glanced up at Tom; he was already smiling beatifically, and his eyes were closed. Holding his cock between two fingers of her right hand, she pushed the foreskin back with the thumb and index finger of her left. The cockhead was ruddy and glistening with something, probably sweat; she didn't like the idea of putting it in her mouth, but she'd already surrendered, and she certainly didn't have much choice now.
"Aaaah," Tom groaned as she slipped her mouth over the moist cockhead.
The prick was becoming rigid now, and its stiff length was pressing against the roof of her mouth, forcing its knob against the soft tissues at the back of her throat. She slid her tongue to and fro along the prick's underside, stroking the skin and searching for the ropelike veins.
"His balls," Max said hoarsely. "Put your hand under his balls." Frieda looked up and saw that Max had whipped out his cock and was stroking it furiously as he watched her suck off his son.
Oh my God, a father and son act, she thought as she sucked harder, squeezed harder, and let a finger slide toward the boy's asshole to get him more excited, to hurry him up, to get his cum out of his balls and onto her tongue so that she could release the ugly cock from her mouth. Her left hand got back into action, its fingers digging between his asscheeks while the fingers of her right hand moved back to the boy's balls and stroked for a minute before wandering up to the base of his cock and forcing their way into her mouth so that she was fingering and sucking his cock at the same time. Tom was groaning more loudly now; he liked it, all right. Frieda sucked hard, pushing the foreskin back and forth with her tongue's tip, tugging gently on the scrotum and going back to the asshole to poke some more and, oh God, she could feel his ass rising off the chair; she could tell that his muscles were stiffening and his breath was coming in short gasps, and now he was digging his fingernails into her scalp and slamming his cock hard against the back of her throat.
"Oh no, Tommy. Remember, Daddy told you Frieda had a special surprise for you, and this isn't it," Max said as he pushed his reluctant son away from her. "Take off those bottoms, and get on your back, bitch," Max commanded. Tom stood like a hungry, mindless animal ready to mount her, his cock jerking crazily in the air while Max stood opposite him, pumping his own cock frenziedly.
"Go on," he urged, "climb on top of her, just like I told you."
Tom quickly lay on top of her, grunting, drooling, pumping away at her cunt like some mechanical man.
At first he just wiggled over her body, pawing her indiscriminately and rubbing his cock against anything it was touching at the time. Frieda prayed he would just cum on her leg, and she tried to help him along by rubbing her thigh on his cock.
"Oh no you don't," Max said warningly, bending down and pushing her legs up. "Keep 'em there," he ordered, bending down again and guiding Tom's pulsing cock into Frieda's cunt. She cringed as the pain shot through her loins; she wasn't ready, she wasn't slippery yet, and the friction of cock against delicate membranes was almost too painful to bear. She looked him in the face; he didn't seem to notice her. Tom's eyeballs were nearly completely rolled up into his head, and his mouth hung open stupidly, emitting only guttural grunts of animal delight. He merely pumped away, one-two, one-two, pumped like a piston in a cylinder, looking like he could go for a hundred miles without an orgasm. He speeded up slightly as Frieda's cunt became wetter, but showed no visible signs of excitement other than his grunting.
Frieda closed her eyes and tried to pretend that the cock inside her was Brian's, plunging, probing, digging deeper and deeper inside her cunt until she thought he'd break through to her womb. She could feel the smooth, slick flesh of her pussy holding him in, sucking, twisting and pulling all around his hot, throbbing prick. Shoving up with her twisting thighs, she impaled herself on his jamming cock, and it stabbed back into the depths of her cunt. Almost savagely, she could feel him crash down on her, pounding her ass solidly against the floor.
She smelled her cunt juice. Opening her eyes, Frieda realized that she was excited. The memories had done that, she realized; thinking of Brian had made her excited. She clamped her cunt muscles tightly around Tom's prick, hoping it would help him cum. She took a deep breath and began to rock her hips to and fro.
"Unnngh!" Tom cried, feeling himself driven near the edge of climax. Max realized this, and bent down low over Frieda's face, dangling his purple-tipped cock inches above her nose. She tried to turn her face away from the prick, but Max forced her to look at it.
"See it? It won't get into you today, but soon, honey, soon."
At that point she felt Tom stiffen, then slam his body hard against hers. He opened his mouth and let out a long, loud groan as his body shook violently from side to side. Frieda ground her thighs together to milk out the last drops of cum that shot from her stepbrother's swinging balls.
No sooner did Tom stop shooting than Frieda felt something hot and sticky splashing across her face. She looked up and saw Max's cockhead spitting wads of thick, sticky cum into the air, only to come splashing down on her neck and face.
"Unngh! Oh, God, get it away!" she cried, vainly turning her head from side to side, trying to avoid the disgusting shower of jism. Max laughed and groaned alternately, enjoying the spectacle of watching his idiot boy shooting his wad into Frieda and his cum splattering on Frieda's writhing body.
"Now, there, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Max said, flipping his cock back into his pants. Frieda refused to answer, turning her head to the other side. Tom still lay on top of her, grunting approval, not realizing the pain and humiliation he had caused his stepsister.
"O.K., Tommy, the game's over," Max said, trying to pry his son off the girl.
"Nuugh!" he protested, clinging to her as if she were a lifeboat in the ocean. She struggled under his heavy weight, trying to free herself from his grip. The boy finally relented, pulling his soft cock out of Frieda's protesting cunt, looking at her admiringly all the time. Frieda felt sorry for him and disgusted at the same time. After all, it wasn't his fault. He was just doing what he'd been told would be all right. It was Max she had to fear, Max she had to look out for. And she knew he wasn't through with her yet.
"Get off her!" Max shouted again, pushing Tom roughly off Frieda and sending him crashing against the concrete block wall. Towering over him like a crazed gorilla, Max started beating Tom until Frieda thought he would kill him. Forgetting that it was Max's victim who had just raped her, Frieda got up quickly from the floor and looked around in the semidarkness for a weapon, anything to stop the vicious beating. Her eyes landed on one of Brian's old leather belts, the kind he used to wear when he went camping in the mountains. It had a large, tarnished brass buckle at one end. Grasping the tail of the belt in her right hand, Frieda stretched her arm back as far as she could, then snapped it forward, sending the heavy buckle crashing against her stepfather's right ear. Dazed, he stopped his beating and fell to his knees.
"Come on, Tommy," she said quietly, stretching her hand forward to help him. But before the boy could reach out for her, Max had recovered and grabbed Frieda.
"So, you want to play games with him, eh? He listens to me, not to anybody else."
"You can't go around here bullying, beating and raping anybody you want," Frieda said defiantly, trying to break Max's iron grip on her wrist.
"So who's to stop me . . . you? You forget those pictures."
Frieda stopped struggling. She was defeated, sickened by the remembrance of those photos of her, Brian and Betty.
Max grabbed the belt that hung limply from Frieda's hand, then pushed her away. In the background they could hear Tommy whimpering in the corner. Frieda didn't like the way he kept flicking the belt in her direction.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"It's for your little ass, baby. Turn around.
"Max, I..."
"TURN AROUND!"
Frieda took a deep breath, then managed to turn away from him. She stepped back as Max moved toward her. He laughed and hit her with the belt. She could feel the welt forming where the belt struck her, and she tried not to look frightened as she clutched the wounded arm.
"I'm going to start up there," he said, indicating her right shoulder by rubbing the edge of the belt against it, "then work down to your pretty ass."
"Don't, please Max, I'll do anything, but..."
"Bend over, Goddamn it!"
"Please!"
"Bend over so I can whip your fuckin' ass, bitch!" Max shouted, moving forward threateningly.
Frieda was tempted to run and look for something to kill Max. But then she might not succeed in getting rid of him, and would only make him more angry. God only knew what he'd do to her then!
Frieda reluctantly did as she was told. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees and closing her eyes as she awaited the belt's stinging blow. She cried out when the leather dug into the soft flesh of her upper back; she whimpered almost silently as she heard Max chuckle. Then he was lashing at her again, and again, and again, drawing blood and creating welts and making her cry out with pain.
It was at that point that they heard a car drive past the basement windows toward the garage. Ifs Brian! Thank God! Frieda thought, and sank to her knees in relief. Max stood quietly for several seconds, debating on his next course of action.
"All right. Get up! You got away with it this time, but there'll be others, baby. You're not gonna act so high and mighty around me any more, or them pictures are gonna get around, unner- stand?"
Frieda had rarely felt such loathing and disgust as she now experienced while listening to Max. He had the three of them under his control, and there was little she could do about it. If she kept quiet and submitted to Max, maybe he'd leave the others alone. She hated to drag Betty into this mess, and to do it to Brain! She shuddered to think what Max might have in store for him if she told her brother and he tried to interfere. In the end, Frieda nodded her head in assent.
"Good. Now get your things back on. And remember, not one word about what happened." Frieda started to get her briefs on when Max stopped her.
"Those welts are gonna show." He looked around the basement and found an old bathrobe, one her mother used to wear years ago when her real father was alive. "Here, toss this on. And don't show anybody those marks!"
"How can I take a shower, or wear a low-back dress, or..."
"That's your problem. Now get out of here!" Picking up her bathing suit top quickiy, Frieda wrapped the robe around her injured body and sprang up the stairs as quickly as she could. She had just made the stairway to the upstairs bedrooms when Brain, Betty and her mother walked in. Max was just coming up out of the basement with Tom.
"Well, Frieda!" her mother exclaimed. "What ever are you doing in that old thing?"
Frieda looked puzzled, and noticed that Betty and Brian sensed that something was wrong. She had to play it cool, or Max would make reprisals. Maybe even on her mother!
"Oh, just rummaging around. I forgot about your bathrobe. I need something comfortable I can schlock around in. This robe's perfect for that." She tried to be casual, hiding the stinging pain that racked her body.
Brain stepped forward and looked intensely at Frieda, then back at Max.
"Oh Frieda, before I forget, we all decided in town that we'll have a picnic right after the bridal shower," her mother chirped, beaming brightly at both Brian and Betty.
"A picnic?" Frieda asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.
"Yes, you know, sort of an informal thing after all that gift-giving. Instead of having everybody sitting around the living room, well go out by the clearing near the woods and have some good old-fashioned barbecue."
Frieda's mind flashed back to the woods, to several weeks ago when she and Brian had discovered their feelings for one another. A warm, tingling feeling spread from her crotch to all parts of her body, and immediately she forgot about those painful marks on her back and ass. Again she felt Brian's cock poking insistently at her juice-slicked cuntlips, his hands clasping her tits, teasing the taut brown skin of her nipples as she wiggled her ass back and forth on the ground, trying to work her cunt around her brother's purple cockhead. She looked at her brother, and his stare made something happen in Frieda's crotch. Oh God, she was dripping cunt juice. Could her mother smell it? She felt something trickle down her right thigh, and thanked God she had on the robe.
"Sounds great," Frieda said as cheerfully as she could, walking toward her bedroom. She looked back briefly to see Max sneering up at her as if to try to see under the robe.