Chapter 7
Several days had passed since mother and daughter had become initiated into bondage. Neither knew about the other's experience, Cindy growing quiet and using her studies as an excuse to remain in her room. Angie thought about Joe day and night, unable to control the resulting nervousness that made her jump each time the phone rang. More than once, she thought he would come over in spite of her pleas not to, kicking down the door and manhandling her right in front of her daughter. She knew she could never let that happen again. She would remain chaste, would make sure she never slipped and called that young man over again.
But as the hours passed on the third day Angie sat alone at the breakfast table, staring down into her empty coffee cup, tapping her fingers on the stained saucer. She was feeling so damned nervous, so damned unsettled! Try as she may, the only thing she could think of was Joe and what he had done to her. She was becoming a ... a fuckaholic! What a word! Just thinking of it made her smile weakly.
Angie pushed aside the cup of coffee impatiently, folding her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Why did that awful tingle have to come back? Why couldn't she just be a regular woman and not have to contend with these hot, tight feelings in her cunt? She was a mature person. She should be able to control her emotions, couldn't she? Joe had been an accident, a mistake. Surely she could triumph over that. Was this any way for a woman in her thirties to act when she had a teenaged daughter to support?
"Cindy..." she whispered.
Angie stopped, straightening in her chair as she heard her daughter's radio upstairs. She had been quiet lately, not giving her the usual trouble she had about dating and boys in general. That was a good sign, she guessed. Angie had such high hopes of Cindy earning a scholarship and going on to college. She couldn't ruin those chances with some seedy scandal breaking over both their heads.
Footsteps. Cindy was coming down the stairs. The sound of the radio was off. Angie glanced at the kitchen clock. It was three-thirty on Saturday afternoon. The sun streamed in strongly through the back window, warming her arms and thighs. Again she thought about Joe and wondered what he was doing now. She could always call for another grocery delivery.
"Think I'm gonna go down to school," Cindy said, sucking in her pouting lower lip and letting out a soft sigh.
"But who's there, darling?" Angie said, feeling her heart leap up. Her daughter would be gone for a while ... leaving her completely alone-Joe, Joe, Joe.
"Uh ... well, the girls are kinda having a basketball game. I wasn't going to go, but ... well, I'm getting bored studying up there," Cindy stammered, keeping her gaze lowered to the floor. Gus would be there, Gus with his magnificent prick. He had seen her Friday and told her to meet him in his office Saturday, or he'd start spreading rumors around the school about her. Cindy wasn't about to take any chances. Besides, the thought of meeting that man again made her shiver with excited expectation. Would her mother guess that something was wrong? No, she seemed preoccupied about something. Probably it had to do something with her late father's insurance policy. Cindy had heard her mother arguing about something like that with the agent on the phone the other day.
"Well, just take something warm with you, dear. It's going to be chilly later on," Angie said, marveling at the way she was able to keep her voice steady. The woman peered out the window, seeing a few tufts of white clouds drifting lazily over the blue sky. Angie rubbed her damp palms on her shirt, feeling that tingle stealing away that strength she had. The juices were starting to flow from her cunt right now, dampening the broad silken panty crotch. It was a miracle her daughter noticed nothing.
"Guess that's a good idea," Cindy muttered, shaking the long blonde hair from her eyes. "I'll be back around five or so."
"See you then, dear. Be careful," she called out to her retreating daughter.
Yes, Cindy was beautiful. She had nearly forgotten how attractive her daughter was. Could she really be giving her moral advice, telling her what was wrong and right while she, herself, was doing all those terrible things with Joe? Would her daughter have the same inclinations in her later life?
Angie sat back down behind the kitchen table, hearing her daughter rustling about in the living room. Then there was the sound of the door closing and her daughter's fading footsteps. Angie inhaled a deep breath, glanced at the wall clock, then rose from the chair. How her clit burned, twinkling like a star.
"God..."she moaned.
She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding as she dialed the number of the market. What if he were gone? Angie didn't know his home phone number. And the thought of her getting someone else there made her more nervous than ever.
"Yes, this is Mrs. Barrington," Angie said in a quick, breathless voice. Thank God. Joe wasn't answering the phone. But as she rattled off a relatively short order to the woman at the other end of the line, Angie swore she could hear his gruff voice in the background swearing at something or someone. "And send over Joe ... Joe Ganter, if you would. Yes, he left something here the last time he was here and ... and I want to give it back to him."
Angie rang off quickly, amazed that she could be so brazen. She was actually calling for him. The woman still kept her right forefinger on he phone button, holding the receiver against her ear, feeling the plastic grow sweaty against her earlobe. How dizzy she felt! Would he come? And if he did, how would he act? She was taking so many chances. But all this seemed to add to the excitement she felt.
Angie moved from the phone, and she walked like a zombie into the living room, listening to the ticking of the mantle clock, waiting for Joe to come. Her breathing was becoming more and more shallow, her chest tighter, her head starting to throb. Angie leaned against the yawning fireplace, wondering if she should have even called the market. What if her daughter came back early, finding her mother and that man? Angie covered her face quickly with both hands, driving that thought out. No, she couldn't think of that. All she should think of was Joe and what he could do for her. He would take away all the frustration, all the nervousness that had nearly driven her up the wall these past two days.
Again, footsteps at the back door, heavier than Cindy's. Joe. Yes, he was here, knocking on the door. She could ignore him, stay here in the safety of her living room and ... and...
"Coming," she called.
Angie walked briskly through the large room, pausing briefly at the hall mirror to check herself. She could see why Joe came over so quickly with the groceries. What on earth would he tell them at the supermarket when he didn't return for such a long time?
"Yes, come in," Angie said a little airily, glancing over the grinning stud's shoulders to see if the neighbors had noticed anything. No, no one around. Good. Angie closed the door quietly behind him, locking it, wondering what she would do next.
"What you ordered ... from the market," Joe grumbled, putting down a neatly typed piece of paper on the kitchen table.
Angie was swaying back and forth, wondering what she should do. Joe was standing there in a white cotton t-shirt, his big arms folded, his Levi's stretched tightly over his thighs, revealing a long bulge running down his left leg. Angie swallowed hard, tearing her eyes away as she searched for her coin purse in the top kitchen drawer. This was going all wrong. It was too mechanical. Joe was doing nothing but standing there as if he had some other place to go. A pang of jealousy shot through her. What if he had another woman in the neighborhood, and she was only a stopover point?
"I ... I can't seem to find..."
Angie bit her lower lip, tears blinding her eyes. Her fingers were like ice, unable to grip the five-dollar bills wadded in the tiny white purse. She wanted to cry out something, tell him how she felt, but pride kept her from doing a thing. He was going to leave as if she didn't even exist. Oh, it was going all wrong.
"Here," she said, handing Joe two five-dollar bills and not daring to look at him.
"I got my car here. You're the last delivery. I want you to come with me, Mrs. Barrington," Joe said, taking the money from her and stuffing it in his front pocket.
"What?"
"You heard me."
He was crazy. She wasn't about to leave the safety of her home. Surely he had to be thinking she was crazy.
"No, I can't. My daughter-"
Angie didn't get a chance to say another word. He was gripping her by the shoulders, his fingers warming her upper arms immediately. Angie trembled, feeling the strength of his body radiating through hers. She still wanted to say no, to refuse to go with this man. But his eyes bore down into hers, destroying her will, forcing her to bend to him, even if it meant her destruction.
"Come here, baby."
She felt his breath pumping against her throat. He was bending down to her, his mouth opening. In a moment she was pressed against him, her thigh warm where his crotch was. Angie could feel the rigid swelling of his cock pushing outward against his jeans. A hot thrill washed over her flesh while her cunt lips began stretching, pulling, folding over one another with excitement. She let her hips rock back and forth, the subtle movement sliding her cunt lips over one another and against her clit. Joe slipped his right hand down from her lower back over her ass-cheeks, gathering the material of her skirt in one hand, squeezing her ass.
"No, no..."
But Angie let Joe have her mouth, opening it wide, letting him slip his tongue in while he rubbed his crotch against her hipbones. Angie felt herself slipping further and further into his sway, while Joe kept moaning into her mouth. "Come on..."
Angie knew she couldn't refuse. Grabbing her purse, the woman followed him out the back door, locking it, then looking around to see if the neighbors were out. No. No one was around. It was as if there were a conspiracy to push her into his arms.
"Inside," he growled.
She slipped into a small green Toyota, her ass sinking comfortably into the broad front seat. Joe slipped in quickly next to her, starting up the tiny car and backing it with a squeal from the drive.
"I live a few blocks from you, baby. Not bad, eh? I been watchin' you every now and then when you come out here. Thought about stoppin' by. But then I didn't wanna freak you out."
"Oh..."
Angie felt her tits swelling, the nipples growing stiff and itchy, feeling as if they were roasting in some kind of sticky syrup. So, he'd been watching her, thinking of her, maybe, as often as she'd thought about him. The thought made her smile.
They drove for a few blocks, turning into a rear drive leading from an alley. Angie got out quickly, feeling as if she wanted a veil or something to protect her identity. It was a small wood-frame house standing alone at the end of a dead end street. In the distance she could hear a dog barking. Someone nearby was playing a Spanish station, and the sounds of squealing children filtered through the mid-afternoon air. It was a poor neighborhood bordering on hers. "Here."
Joe opened the kitchen door for her, stepping back and letting her in.
"Go downstairs, over there," he said, pointing to a badly scratched brown wooden door standing half-opened on the other side of the refrigerator. There was the distinct smell of stale beer and tobacco hanging in the fetid air. The house obviously hadn't been cleaned much at all. There was litter all around the kitchen, and dirty dishes stacked irregularly in the sink. Angie ignored it all, her heart pounding harder by the passing second. She heard Joe close and lock the front door as she opened the wooden door fully and began making her way carefully down the squeaking wooden steps.
It had been a regular cellar at one point. But Joe had changed that dramatically. There were all sorts of things on the wall that, even in the dim light filtering through the high narrow windows, stood out. Angie still clung to the wooden handrail, her eyes widening as she stared at the equipment-harnesses of all sorts, whips, riding crops, bridles, all made of black leather, some studded with metal bolts and snaps. The sound of Joe's heavy tread behind her made her start.
"Nice, eh? I've been collectin' these things for a long time. Better to have a house with a basement to put all this shit in instead of an apartment," he said, putting his hands between her shoulder blades and shoving her forward.
"I ... don't think you understand," Angie said, turning around slowly and putting her hands out in front of her. "I mean, what happened back there ... in my house, was something else ... different from this." She glanced at the long, complicated bridle hanging to her right. "I didn't mean to give you the impression I was into ... this."
Angie spoke studiedly, feeling the hair rising on the back of her head when she focused her eyes a little more clearly and took in the full extent of Joe's playroom.
"Yeah, you all say that kinda thing. And then, man, you can't get the leather off," Joe remarked. Laying one heavy hand on her shoulder and pushing her back. Angie stumbled backward, stretching out both arms to regain her balance. It was starting. The frightened woman looked about her at the cinder-blocked room. The devices hung there lifelessly, mocking her.
"No, don't..."
But her protests were weak. Joe moved toward her, one hand raised in the air. Angle backed away, her right leg stumbling over something on the floor, a wire of some sort. She kept shaking her head, wanting to scream but finding it impossible to do so. Oh, it had been so foolish to follow her emotions and ride with Joe to this horrible place. Now there was nowhere she could run.
"Uhhh!" she gasped.
His big hand paused for a moment, his fingers outspread before it cut that all-too-familiar arc through the air and crashed against the side of her face. Angie screamed, her head snapping violently to the left, her hair washing over her face. Her knees buckling under the violent attack, the woman collapsed to the floor. Her cheeks stung, the hard blow making her cry out in anguish.
"You keep crying, and yet you want more."
Reaching down, Joe grabbed Angie by the hair, tugging her head up so hard, the muscles around the base of her neck cramped. There was the sound of something tearing-her blouse! Angie jerked away from the big man, holding her garment together. It as happening all over. Only this time there were those awful things hanging on the wall. "No!" she screamed.
Was there someone outside? Angie thought she saw a pair of legs cross in front of the window. Opening her mouth, the woman was about to shout when another blow smacked her hard across the mouth, sending her spinning around to the floor. When she blinked her eyes open, Angie found herself on her right side, one hand between her thigh and the concrete, the other covering her face protectively. Joe was nudging her in the ribs with the toe of his boot.
"Take it off. Take it off, baby, all your fuckin' clothes."
Angie rubbed her fingers over her eyes, choking down a sob of fear. It was a little painful for her to get up. She had fallen to the floor hard, striking her head and hips against the surface. Pushing back the hair from her eyes, the woman stood up, feeling her knees knocking together. Joe was rubbing his now-hard prick through his Levi's watching her with that horrible evil smile crossing his handsome face. Sobbing, Angie finished unbuttoning her white blouse, shrugging the thin material off her shoulders and letting it float to the floor. Reaching back, she unhooked her bra, feeling the straps loose immediately around her sides.
"Yeah, those are the nice firm tits I remember," Joe sighed, stepping up to her. Angie shrank back as the brassiere fell to the floor, shrugging her upper arms in to protect her tits. Joe grabbed her hard, his fingers bruising her upper arms. He was shaking her, making her head roll from side to side. Her tit flopped forward, striking his chest.
"Now the rest."
He flung her back, nearly knocking her to the floor once again. Angie moved hurriedly, not wanting to upset him any more. Unzipping her skirt, she stepped quickly from it, sliding her panties down over her ankles and tossing them in the pile of her clothing. Joe scratched his chin, the smile broadening as he stared at the naked, trembling woman. Angie had never felt so bared and vulnerable before in her life. Again her gaze drifted to the gadgets dangling from the wooden stakes in the walls.
"Stable slut," Joe muttered, walking over to a long piece of leather with several others attached to it and smoothing the backs of his fingers over the studs. "That's what you're gonna be-something to ride around on. You ever do anything like that, Mrs. Barrington?"
"No!" she gasped out, her eyes rounding in horror as Joe slipped the device from the long wooden stake, then held it in front of her.
"It's a real trip. And if you don't put it on, baby, I'll drag you around the room first, then slip this thing onto you one way or the other, understand?"
Angie nodded, unsure of what she was doing, of what would happen to her if she refused.