Chapter 1
Bonnie could smell her every time she was near. It didn't matter if it was in school, or afterwards in the yard, or on the weekends at the clubs.
Especially at the clubs. Bonnie was known to make the circuit every Friday through Sunday, like religion.
She was an excellent dancer, a good-looking babe who could have her pick of any of the more than willing men in the packed discos.
And she did.
She had her share.
More than one considered it their privilege to be able to lift their skirts, lie back and enjoy again and again the thrust of her unusually big and fat dildo up their most private of possessions, their sweetly prepared cunny. and enjoy the fucking she could so expertly give, until, in a burst of orgasmic sensations, they would come for him, passing down their most precious of fluids, abandoned in their lust, as they coated her cock with female pussy juice.
But somehow, it wasn't enough for Bonnie.
As a nineteen year old still in her last year of high school, having had her run-ins with the law as well as the Board of Education, she was the kind of good-looking bad boy who wanted to fuck the one unfuckable beauty-Crissy. Like, badly.
So whenever she was in her vicinity, with her jet black hair, her long, shiny legs, her big and pointy tits, and her slick, smirky face, she could sense it.
She even tried once or twice to start a conversation with her, but she was having none of it.
She wasn't into the roughneck stuff. She lived in a part of Queens, New York, where the class was decidedly middle, and the taste were definitely upward. She was in the market, if at all, for one of those nice, well-dressed young professionals, yuppies Bonnie thought she called them, not of all things, a dyke, and a rough and tough dead-end street type one at that.
She kind of liked that, admired the girl's clarity of choice, but couldn't, for the life of her figure out why she wouldn't give her the time of day.
Or any pussy.
Or why she would want anything to do with that bunch of dickless wonders she preferred to go out with.
It was the kind of thing that Bonnie liked to think about, on a senseless Saturday afternoon when the weather was coming down like sweat, and pussy was the first, last and only thing on her mind.
And so it was. as she sat on her rear, her legs up in the schoolyard, thinking about her favorite subject, when who should happen to walk by, but the one girl who wouldn't put out for him, little Crissy Lewis.
She looked pretty sensational, Bonnie thought.
Her skirt was high on her thighs, and her feet were slipped into an outrageous pair of high heels, most unusual for a Saturday afternoon.
Her shirt was the way she liked it, nice and tight around her tits.
Jesus, Bonnie thought to himself, she'd give anything to see those gorgeous beauties, to have them shaking in her face.
She got up and started following her. She wasn't into any type of plan, or following some grand scheme. She just couldn't get enough of her in one look.
It was as if she'd put out some type of scent that had yanked him by her nose, or by her pussy, and commanded her to follow.
She thought she must have dipped her ass in olive oil, the way it kicked from one side to the other.
Jesus, what she could do with her if she were her for a couple of hours.
Not even for that long.
She turned the corner and went into a supermarket. She bought a series of groceries, which, through the market window, was able to give Bonnie an idea.
She wondered if she were alone this weekend, if her parents had gone away or something. After all, why send a precious little cockteaser like Crissy to the store if you could go yourself.
She followed her back home, from a safe distance, and once she was back in her house she went to the comer pay phone and fished out her black book, the one she kept with him at all times, her indispensable bible.
Dialing her number-she had it for the longest time now, waiting for the right opportunity to use it-she disguised her voice with a kerchief over the phone and when Crissy picked it up she asked for her father.
"I'm sorry, she's not here," she said, stiffly, with a verbal pout to match the gorgeous Siamese expression of her ice-cold face.
"Can you tell me, please, when she'll be back?"
"Well, sometime Monday morning, I believe. Why?"
"I'm from the plumber's Union."
"So?"
"Well, your father was looking for a recommendation for someone to come out and do some pipe work on the house."
There was a long pause. " Oh. All right. If you give me your number I'll have him call back."
"That's all right." With that she hung up the receiver.
The idea was coming together, now that she knew she was going to be by herself for the weekend. She'd need a few things to put the plan into operation.
The first thing she did was to go to the grocery store and get himself a set of ropes, clotheslines, she said, for hanging her laundry out the window of her apartment.
Next, she visited the housewares department of the neighborhood department store and picked up a couple of knives, scissors, hooks, and tapes. Some work needed around the basement, she told the clerk, offhandedly.
Finally, she ventured into the downtown section, to the sex shop district, and picked up some of the equipment she knew she'd need. She could hardly contain the wetness in her pants when she thought about what kind of a weekend she was shaping up for himself.
Later that afternoon she had himself a big meal down at the corner diner, sitting off by himself, avoiding the other kids who came in after school.
Then she went to the lez pub, on her own block, natch, and had a half dozen steins of beer.
She was feeling better already.
She went to the telephone in the back and dialed Crissy's number.
The phone rang three times and for a second Bonnie was afraid that she might have gone out on a date or something.
But on the fourth ring she answered. She could hear her soft, breathy voice coming through the receiver, and she got a ramrod hard-on.
"Yes? Hello? I said Hello? Just who is this, anyway."
She hung up the phone. She was ready.
About an hour later, after it was completely dark in the neighborhood, she took her laundry bag filled with equipment and material, and began her trek. It was, she promised himself, going to be a night to remember!
She reached her house, the one on the corner of the pleasant middle-class residential neighborhood around nine-thirty. She was dressed in black, as she knew the professional breaking and entering men did.
She was after larger things, though, than a silver set of candlesticks. She was looking for the really big haul this night.
She crept through the hedges to the kitchen door entrance.
Looking around once to make sure no one could hear or see him, she slipped her black gloved hand around the doorknob, and gave it a soft twist.
Open!
She couldn't believe how senseless some people were.
How could a beautiful prize pussy like Crissy be stupid enough to leave her door wide open? Didn't she knew that was like leaving a blatant invitation out to fuck her'?
An invitation that she'd be happy to accept.
She was inside now. She could hear the television on in the other room. She put her bag of equipment down and got on all fours, to creep along the wail, like a street rat.
She managed to get into the hall, and then, turning a corner, was able to see the back of Crissy's head.
She was home, all right, watching some shit on television, her gorgeous legs crossed and up on the coffee table.
All she had to do now was to make sure they were completely alone in the house, and then she'd be all her.
She crept up the stairs, careful not to make the slightest sound. When she was on the second floor of the split-level, she checked each room.
She knew that Crissy was an only child, and that if there was no one upstairs and her parents were away for the weekend, that meant that no one was going to interfere with any of her plans.
If she played her cards right she could have her for the rest of the weekend, until early Monday morning!
She came back downstairs.
She reached into her pants and removed the oversize white handkerchief, the first bit of equipment she'd designated for use against her prey.
Creeping along on all fours once more, she was up to the rear of the sofa. Slowly, so as not to give away her position, she stealthily lifted himself up, then, smiling at the ease at which this whole thing was happening, dropped the twisted handkerchief down on Crissy's face.
She'd never heard a girl scream so loud before. Or try to scream, that is, as all that was able to come out from between her lips was the muffled screams of the voice that was being blotted out by her makeshift gag.
She held it there tightly, feeling her tense fingers clawing at him. She didn't move, and started speaking in a soft, even voice.
"Don't try to struggle, or scream, and I won't hurt you," she said.
Finally, when Crissy realized it was useless, she stopped trying to yell out, but kept her hands firmly on her.
"Now," she said, " I want you to remove your hands from mine. If you do this, I'll take away my handkerchief from your mouth. Do you understand? Nod if you understand me. Now. Do it."
It took Crissy a couple of seconds to regain her composure. She thought the voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.
She was frightened, but she'd read somewhere that the worst thing you could do was to show fear. So she swallowed hard and nodded her head, indicating that she understood what she was trying to say.
Bonnie took her hand away from her mouth.
"Don't turn around," she said. " And stand up."
She did as she was told, slowly rising from the sofa, with her back still facing him.
She drank her in. She was in a loose fitting robe, with nothing on her feet. She was hard and throbbing now, and she could smell that sweet, delicious scent that was hers alone.
"Put your hands behind your back."
"Please ... oh, God, please, don't...." she said, turning around to face him. She saw a tall figure dressed in black with a ski mask over her face, covering her features, making it impossible for her to identify her.
"I said don't turn around, didn't I"
She shook her head rapidly up and down, really afraid now that she was going to do something to her.
"Go ahead. I want your back facing me. Now move."
Reluctantly, she did as she was told, afraid to do anything else.
"Put your hands behind your back."
She did this too, fearing now, for the first time, that perhaps she was in for something a little different than her first fears said.
She slowly put her hands behind her and waited, not knowing what to expect.
Bonnie produced a role of the black masking tape from her pocket, and let out a two foot length, which she cut off with her teeth. She took the tape and wound it around her wrists.
Tears came to her eyes as she realized that this was the first step in what she was sure was going to be a sexual attack. There was nobody around to help her, and she was now bound, to remove the use of her hands. Jesus, she thought to herself, what else is going to happen?
When Bonnie had wound the entire two feet of tape around her wrists, she was satisfied that she couldn't move them and would be unable to free herself.
"Now," she said, " Let's go upstairs...."
"Oh, please, don't ... I have money ... I can give you money...."
"Move it," she said roughly. " Or you'll never live to see the morning."
She knew that last bit of dialogue sounded a little corny, but what the fuck. Sometimes it was hard to be clever when you were as horny as she was. Slowly, reluctantly, she began to head toward the stairs. She went up slowly, hoping for some kind of miracle that would save her from this surely worse than death fate she was about to suffer.
None came. She was upstairs now.
"Into the bedroom," she said, giving her a soft shove.
She went into her own bedroom.
The place smelled like roses, as Bonnie followed her inside. Her room was immaculate, the exact opposite of her. On the wall was a John Travolta poster. Well, Bonnie thought, that's going to have to go.
"On the bed," she said to her, giving her another soft shove.
"Please...." she whimpered.
"You know, I've had just about enough of your noise, she said, so after she was seated at the edge of the bed, just as she wanted her, she removed another length of tape and put it squarely across her mouth. She could see the terror and fright in her eyes as she taped her mouth shut, and she had to admit she was getting off on this stuff.
"Now, I don't want you to move, do you understand that? I don't want you to make a sound or get off this bed. If you do, I'll ... well, I just wouldn't, if I were you."
She reached over and yanked out her extension phone from the wall, so she wouldn't get any ideas while she went downstairs and picked up the rest of her bag of tricks.
She was gone and back in a flash, convinced that she had done anything stupid in her absence.
In fact, she hadn't moved a muscle. She was still in the perfectly upright position she'd been in when she'd left her a few moments before.
"That's right. Now you're being smart," she said to her, as she got the tape out from her pants pocket again.
"Mmmmmffff," she said, trying to speak through the tape, but she was unable to get anything out.
Bonnie liked that.
"Okay," she said, " On your stomach."
She put her hands under her bare legs, the first time she actually touched any of her skin, and gently, for him, raised them so that she fell back on the bed.
Then she helped her to turn over, and moved her so that her face was toward the head of the bed and her legs almost to the bottom. She liked the fact that she slept in a wide double bed. It was a very optimistic way of sleeping.
She then made her spread her legs, forcing the night gown to rise ever so revealingly up the back of her thighs, giving him a box seat to more of her secret charms.
Making one leg go as far over as she could, she attached a length of clothesline to it, and wound it around several times, so that it would have been impossible for anyone, or anything to remove it without her outside help. When that was finished, she then cut off the remaining length, about two feet long and secured it to the left bedpost. How convenient, she figured, that the bed was so cooperatively designed.
When that was finished, she did the same thing to her other leg, so that now, with her hands tied behind her and her legs spread-eagled and tied to the bottom bedposts, she was, for all intents and purposes, totally secured and rendered helpless. Without the use of her hands there was really nothing she could do.
She didn't say a word, as she got up on the bed and positioned himself between her legs. Slowly, she removed the gloves from either of her hands, and put them carefully down beside him. Then, easily, gently, so as not to make her any more frightened than she already had, she slowly lifted the robe/gown, raising it inch by inch, revealing more and more of her bare thighs.
"You're fucking beautiful," she said as she saw the incredible whiteness of her skin being displayed before him. And she more than enjoyed the way she struggled against her bonds, trying desperately from preventing the slow derobing that was taking place.
But she was having too good a time to think about anything so ridiculous as either letting her go without completely breaking her, or rushing into anything too fast. After all, she told himself, she had all the time in the world.
Now, with one remaining slide of her hands, she raised the sheer material above her ass, revealing the first of her private parts to him. She could hear, even through the gag on Crissy's mouth, the soft, confused and humiliated sob.
"There, there," she said to her, stroking the back of her hair, " This isn't going to be so bad. You'll see. Before I'm finished with you, you'll be begging me for more. You'll see."
"Mmmmmmmmfffffff," was all that she could say in response.
Now, she let the fingers of one hand lightly graze across her bottom. She enjoyed the way she pulled it against itself, tightly, trying to prevent him from feeling how soft and full it really was.
It didn't help.
She stroked it softly at first, then increased her action on it, until, she knew, she could feel her starting to relax, and in spite of herself, start to enjoy the feelings that were now coursing through her.
She let her fingers ride down the side of her legs, past the backs of her knees, then up again to the cresting curve of her ass. She was an expert at this kind of slow building up, and after a couple of minutes of her fingers dancing on her skin, she could tell that she was enjoying it.
Now, without any warning or any type of signal, she took her hands and grabbed one cheek in each.
"Mmmffff," she tried to cry out, but the gag was still too effective.
She put her mouth on the crack and began to lick at it, putting long, hot tongue tracks up and down in it, until at last she felt her bobbing up and down on the bed, trying desperately to make her stop.
No man, no boy, no one had ever been this close to her ass before, had ever touched her like this, and had never, never, even in her wildest dreams, put their mouth down there.
It was positive indecent!
It was unfair!
It was delicious!
That was what was running through her mind as she continued to work on her this way. No matter how much she protested being used like this, being abused and who knows what else, she couldn't deny the fact that she was enjoying the way she was working her over. She was starting a slow fire, that would build up and leave her in flames. She knew that, and she knew that, and the night was just beginning.
With one final spreading of her gorgeous, plump white ass, she stuck her tongue far up into her most secret of places, and began to suck with abandoned lust!
And suck she did, making the girl moan with a kind of sob that sent chills through the both of their bodies.
Bonnie promised herself then and there a time she would never forget.
For the both of them.
This was going to be so, so good.
Which was why, when she revealed from her bag of tricks the clothespins, Crissy's eyes could do nothing but open wide.
No!
Not those!
Not there!
But yes....
She was going to get clipped on her pussy....
Good and tight....
And her tits....
And of course, one right on her clitty.
Bonnie was as smooth as silk with it, knowing just how to do it good....
So good....
So fucking A good!
She was going to make the girl pay.
There were things in that bag that could transform even the simplest chairs into....
A kind of jaws of death.
Poor Crissy!
She was in for it now. The whole enchilada.
She was going to be lesbianed! In the worst, make that best, possible way!