Chapter 8
It wasn't until she stretched that Diane felt the weight at her ankle, opened her eyes and learned the dream was more than a dream. She stared in wonder at the thing on her leg-half asleep still, unable to believe Uncle John, jealous or not, would resort to chaining to insure she kept her promise about being faithful.
But there was no denying the heavy metal links on her leg. Awed, she sat up and inspected the horrid restraint. It appeared to be a choker. Now she remembered the boxer that had once romped through the apartment, recalled having seen the ugly thing about the dog's neck. Uncle John had spread two links to accommodate a small lock, had secured the chain to her ankle while she slept-exhausted, fucked out from the night before-and had locked the other end, coupled to a longer, "running chain," to the foot of the bed.
Frantic, Diane tugged at the restraint until blisters appeared on her hand. It refused to give. "Oh, noooo!" she wailed, pounding one small fist into the mattress ... remembering the cabin ... Tony and Sammy and Skeet. It was as if she were back there, secured to the bed, at the mercy of her kidnappers. But now Uncle John was the thug. And she was as much a prisoner here, she realized, as she'd been at the hideout in the cool, green, somehow still appealing Palos Verdes Hills.
It was almost noon when the knock at the front door woke her a second time. Not caring who it was, unconcerned that she wore only panties and that if whoever was knocking answered her plea they'd walk in to feast their eyes on her near-naked body, Diane hollered, "Help! Oh, please, hellllllp!"
From the bed she could see the hall door. She waited expectantly. Who could it be? she wondered as the brass doorknob began to turn. A stranger? Someone tall and handsome, who, upon seeing her, would immediately want to do what everyone seemed to want to do to her? She held her breath ... waiting ... watching as the door slowly opened.
"Di?" Fred stood, an uncertain grin on his face, with his hand on the doorknob.
Diane scowled. Fucking Fred! She should have known it would be him, should have realized that, after the day before, nothing could keep him away. "In here! " she yelled, knowing what would happen when he entered the bedroom and saw her, but again at his mercy because of Uncle John. She was forever at someone's mercy, it seemed.
Well, it was going to stop! she thought as Fred closed the hall door and started across the living room. She'd decided, while waiting, while lying helpless all morning, she'd run away, if she had to-get a new start, away from it all, where no one knew her.
She watched Fred's face as he stopped beside the bed and stared wide-eyed at the homemade shackle. "Man! What goes on?" he asked.
"Can ... can you unlock it?"
Fred sat on the bed sidesaddle. Leaning close, he examined the small lock and the chain. He scratched his thick head of dark hair. Glancing from the choker to her flushed face, he said, "Sure! But who'd you murder?"
Diane began to explain about Uncle John seeing her get out of the car, his jealousy. But almost before the words were out of her mouth, she saw Fred's gaze shift to her bare breasts ... then glide down and over her belly, to the puffy V, the hint of dampness, where the semi-transparent panties hugged her pussy. The hand at her ankle began to inch up. She watched the surprise on his face-the momentary confusion at finding her chained like a slave to the bed-become hunger. "F-first get the chain off," she whispered as the hand on her leg touched the tender inside of one upper thigh. Fascinated, she watched the fingers creep toward her crotch. "There ... there's a hammer 'n' saw 'n' stuff in
... in the cabinet under the s-sink in ... in the kitchen," she added, commanding her cunt to be still, to stop twitching, to ignore the hose-like thing beginning to show signs of life in the boy's pantsleg.
"You mean you been chained up like this all day?" asked Fred suddenly. "Uh-huh."
"Well, shit then! Another little while won't hurt! "
"Oh, don't! Ow! " Diane leaned far forward-hand clamping tight on the one that had reached her crotch and now was kneading her pussy. "T-take the chain off first. I-I ... I won't be able to ... to move right this way."
"Fuck the chain! " The fingers between her legs found the legband of the panties, slipped beneath.
"Owwwww! Ummm! " Diane hugged his neck. Opening her legs, giving him room, she worked her cuntlips. The probing fingers slipped deep in her wet slit. She offered her mouth-opened and drew his tongue deep inside. She allowed him to press her back, onto the pillows-raise her free leg and began rotating her hips. It was madness! she thought. Sweet madness! But she was by now getting used to the overpowering insanity which took possession of her whenever a man, any man it seemed, came near.
In less than a minute, the boy had the panties off her free leg and bunched at the ankle where the shackle held fast to the bedboard. He paused to undress. Diane watched every move ... as she had watched Tony disrobe the first day at the cabin. Her cunt was alive with fresh juice, ready, aching to take the stiff dick she saw spring from his shorts. "Hurry," she told him, reaching with open arms, open thighs.
Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Fred held his long cock in one hand and cupped her pussy with the other. Diane squirmed. Willingly she took hold of his sex. The fingers fucking her cunthole were making her wild. She jerked on his magnificent rod ... working the loose outer jacket of skin ... thinking how lovely it was ... noting the bright bead of lubricant at the aperture in the round, purple-red glans. Impulsively she raised up, on one elbow, and licked the cloudy dewdrop away.
"Yeah man! " breathed Fred. "That's what I like. Suck it, baby. "
"Do me, too. Eat my pussy while I suck you off. Like ... like you did yesterday."
Fred grinned down at her. "You dig it, huh? "
"Urn! B-better than anything."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet."
Diane squealed as the boy fell upon her, head between her gaped thighs, mouth wet and open over her tight little love hole. She gasped and threw her pelvis up off the bed ... panting while he straddled her face on his knees and pointed his jerking swipe at her lips. She cupped his fat balls. They were heavier this way, hanging down, dangling, she noted. They seemed to be bloated with cream ... thick jism waiting to be sucked up and into her mouth.
"C'mon," growled the boy, glancing back at her, momentarily abandoning her pouting cuntlips. "Take the fucking thing in 'n' stop screwin' around."
"Oh. Oh, don't stop s-s-sucking meeeeee! D-don't stop! " Hurriedly Diane wrapped both tiny hands around the shaft of his rod and steered the smooth, hot head, the pulsing glans, into her face. She moaned. Gulping, working spit up from her throat, she drew the fat fiery tip deep.
"Yeeeeeeah! " Fred drove his hips down ... pushing deeper, deeper. "Suck it, babe. Take it all. Every ummmmm! Ah! Every fuckin' inch!"
Gurgling, working the saliva over the bulbous knob, batting her tongue against the vein beating an excited tattoo along the bowed underside, Diane sucked. She released the shaft. Moving her hands over his hips, to the cheeks of his flat, muscular bottom, she gripped and pulled down ... taking the delicious meat, all of it, to the coarse hair smelling of sweat, into her mouth. Now she could see his asshole. It was the cutest thing; a winking brown eye in a moon-shaped, grinning face. Suddenly she knew why Uncle John liked that tiny slit best. Impulsively her fingers inched down the crack.
"Arrrrrump! " Fred's hips jerked convulsively as her slender middle finger slipped in his chute the cock in her face dug deeper.
"Ummm! Ea' me. Sue' my pusseeee! " Diane lifted her ass high off the bed, seeking his mouth, his tongue. Noisily she sucked his stiff prick and waited for the first flick of sandpapery fire.
With two fingers on each hand, the boy spread the swollen halves of her vulva. Diane felt his hot breath. Her heart seemed to stop. Her belly grew taut. Forcing her finger deep in his rectum, she drew on the knob of his cock and fucked her blonde wedge up, up ... straining to meet the wet dart.
Fred seemed to enjoy making her squirm. He waited until she was half out of her mind with longing, with lust. Then, shafting his dick slowly in and out of her face, his own face dipped down into the gap between her quivering thighs. His tongue lashed out-as the belt Uncle John welded had lashed out the night before-taunting her clit, working its shivery wonder on the sensitive bud. His fingers slipped down into the pinched crack of her ass, searching for the rear entry. Slurping, matching the noises she made, he drew his tongue quickly back and forth across both hot hairy slits.
Moaning, unable to think, to breathe, Diane worked her sphincters, making her asshole suck as her mouth was sucking, and drew a finger up her tight' rear chute. She thrashed as the new dart bored in. She twisted, humped. Clamping her teeth at the base of his rod, she drank huge draughts of the stink that hung like a mist at his privates. She fucked her cunt up at him ... sucking ... sucking as if she were a baby once more, and his cock, the hard thing jerking at the gate to her gullet, contained a specially mixed formula.
"Ah! Oh, man! Ohhhhhhh!" Fred's mouth clamped tight at her cunthole. He blew into her belly. He wiggled, telling her with his hips, his movement, it was time; that she should release the hold her teeth had and allow him to piston.
"Do it!" gasped Diane. She cupped the fat hairy sacs at her chin. Frantically she fucked her finger in and out of his asshole, and worked her own little chute on the finger drilling there. She watched the boy's slick shaft slip out of her face, and grind back. Again she watched it withdraw ... pulling back until only the glans was embedded, and lunging. He was coming, she knew. She could feel it inching up from the wrinkled sacs in the palm of her hand. Growing stronger. Forming a knot at the roots of the meat in her face.
Fred gurgled something unintelligible into her nipping gash. Suddenly he threw his legs back. His weight came down on her. Alternately blowing into and sucking air from her vulva, he ground his pelvis, the coarse, brushing cockhair, the thick throbbing roots of his sex, into her mouth.
"Hummmmmmm! " Diane gulped the first gob of goo. Now she clamped her lips tight again ... holding him trapped ... working her throat muscles ... coaxing the stuff from his rod. She was being smothered, choked on the outside by the boy's weight, and by cum within. But she didn't care about that. She didn't care about anything except the thick jism pouring off in her face, gliding down, coating her gullet with rapid spurts of fire.
Forgetting the restraint at her ankle, she tried to wrap her thighs about the boy's head. The chain caught-shot pain through her leg. But she didn't care about that, either. She wiggled her ass further down on the bed. Until there was slack enough in the tether. Until Uncle John's jealousy no longer restricted her from snaking her anxious thighs over the shock of dark hair, the face, the mouth, the tongue burrowing in the wet grotto at her crotch.
"Um! Ummm! UMMMMMMMMM! " Her cunthole was shooting off sparks, it seemed ... breathing, snapping at the sandpapery thing washing her clit, pushing her toward orgasm. She threw her hips wide, twisting, rolling her lower body from side to side, as if she were competing for the Hula-hoop championship of Southern California. "Don't stop! " she cried as the dick in her face stopped pissing good cream.
Fred pumped faster, jerking his meat in and out in spite of her teeth, apparently trying to raise another cumload, to accommodate her. But his cock seemed to be momentarily fucked out. It began to grow limp, to list, hang from her mouth like a fat, overcooked spaghetti.
"Oh!" Suddenly Diane recalled something she'd recently read about prostate glands. She blinked at his asshole. It was up there somewhere-where her finger was digging. She wiggled her fingertip.
"Arrr! ARRRRRRRRRRH!" The glans of Fred's cock pulled back into the loose outer jacket, held for a moment, and-like the head of a jackhammer-pelleted fresh semen into her mouth.
Again Diane sucked with all her might. Working her middle finger high in his rectum, gyrating her ass, her pussy, she greedily drank the hot cum blasting in time to the electric sensations racing up her spine. But her pussy wanted more. More than a tongue. There was no satisfying the little white-blonde wedge, she admitted. No way to still the need in her belly for longer than it took to climb from one long, stiff swipe, to the next. She didn't care. Not anymore. She didn't care because there was nothing so good, so exciting, as fucking.
As if having read her thoughts, as if having deciphered the code of gyrations in her twisting hips, Fred slipped his hard cock from her mouth. It came out with a soft, popping sound. Cum oozed down her chin. "Now let's screw," the boy told her, rearranging his body, repositioning his glistening rod between her full thighs. "Lift your knees," he directed, steering the fat purple-red glans to her pink slit. "Fuck! Open that pretty cunt 'n' do your thing!"
She didn't have to be told, not anymore. She knew what he wanted, knew exactly how to best please a man and herself. Sobbing, making the tiny noises deep in her throat-the sound which was becoming her love language, it seemed-she raised her legs, dropped her knees wide, and took the slippery length of his prick up her pussy. She felt his weight come down on her belly, sighed. Her arms encircled his shoulders. She offered her cum-sticky lips; began the slow, taunting, rhythmic fuck motion that would bring them to orgasm once more.
"Like this?" she whispered, teasing, working her cunt muscles, her thighs.
"Man! "
"Then fuck me! " she told him. "Don't talk! Kiss me 'n' screw!"
Later, after the boy had filled her cunthole with the goo still lingering in her mouth, they rested. Fred lay on his back, eyes closed, arms wide, sucking huge draughts of breath into his lungs. She watched his chest heave. Her gaze traveled the length of his muscular body, paused at the wiry cockhair surrounding his swipe. It was an absurd-looking thing, she decided. Limp, it appeared to be nothing more devastating than an eleventh, misplaced finger. Yet even now she could imagine it hard, standing tall, pulsing, and ready to shoot another thick gush of cream. Her gaze settled on the homemade shackle she'd all but forgotten. She touched Fred's thigh. She watched his eyes open. Rattling the chain, she asked, "What about...?"
Fred grinned. "Nothing to it."
She watched him rise from the bed and pad barefoot toward the kitchen. She sat up, jiggled the chain and thought about Uncle John. She loved him, true. But she couldn't go on being chained to one bed and one man. In the month since the cabin, and especially in the past few days, she'd learned that much; that her pussy, since the first penetration, craved more cock than one man could supply. The insatiable drives were confusing, all tangled up in knots inside her head. But she knew if she stayed Uncle John would become more and more jealous, more and more demanding, and she'd never unravel the mess. There was nothing to do but run ... get away somewhere by herself and think things out.
Fred was back in a moment with a handful of unidentifiable gadgets from Uncle John's tool chest. Leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees and chin resting in the cradle of her hands, she watched him sit, lift her leg, and drop her pink foot into his lap. His gaze shot up to the hairy V between her thighs. "I don't blame your fucking uncle," he told her. "Man! If I had a niece like you! "
Diane sniffled. She supposed Fred was right. She supposed anyone, any man, would be anxious to get and keep his hands on her well-rounded young body. She was learning that about herself, too, that her cute little round ass, her titties, her thighs, and legs and what nestled between, were a passport to pleasure. And her rare white-blonde wedge seemed to be a delight to every beholder.
"There! " Fred lifted the chain from her slim ankle. He cupped her wet pussy. His finger slipped in. "All that work made me hungry," he said. "Got something to eat? A hot blonde fur-burger, maybe?"
Diane fell with him onto the pillows. It was late. Uncle John would be getting home in less than an hour, she knew. But there was time. Time for another quick sixty-nine: another stiff spitting swipe before she decided where to run to.