Chapter 4
Helen Ashworth was not a woman to be taken lightly. She had a hard, piercing stare and a voice to match. Her personality was rough and abrasive. She knew what she wanted and she took it. She was strong, in both body and will, and not one to be treated like a weak, simpering female.
So when her husband Frank, a man she'd married more for his great body and sexual talents than any particular personality traits, began to show less and less interest in her body, she began to suspect she was being played the fool ... and that angered her.
She knew she was still quite attractive. She was a handsome woman with a strong, fit body that she kept in good shape with steady workouts. Her breasts were almost as firm as they'd been when she was a teenager, though they were large and heavy.
At first she couldn't find the time to find out what was going on. Gradually, as time passed, she began to develop a feel for what was happening.
Frank and two scummy pals of his, Bill Wright and Jack Rawlins, were going out together every Friday, supposedly bowling, though they never went to a bowling alley. They also found time together most Saturdays and Sundays, and sometimes during the week as well.
But they weren't going out to strip clubs, or bars. As far as she could figure out they never went anywhere but to some old broken down garage in the middle of the warehouse district. It took her weeks to find out just that much.
After some research she discovered they were renting it from a numbered company. She tracked down the managers and, with some bribery, managed to get a key. Inside, she found a van, and nothing more. The van was locked.
There was a set of stairs leading down, but a big steel door blocked the lower level and she had no key to that, nor did the managers.
So, after more time had passed, when things had slowed down some at work, she managed to sneak Frank's several strange keys out of his pocket when he was taking a shower. That was on a Sunday night. Monday she'd gotten copies of them made.
Frank didn't notice a thing. She slipped his keys back that night and waited. Two nights later he went out with his friends, supposedly for a few drinks. She gave him some time, then followed. She drove to the warehouse district and parked behind the old garage, then let herself inside.
Jack's car was there, along with the van and two others. She headed for the stairs. To her surprise the door at the bottom was open. She eased through, finding herself in a narrow, badly lit hallway, the walls, roof, and floor of old stone.
She heard noises coming from a room ahead. She eased up to it and peered around the corner.
The first thing she saw was a brunette, a young one, with big tits. She was naked and on all fours. Jack Rawlins was fucking her from behind and Bill was in front of her, fucking her face. Helen glared at them in disgust.
She eased a little further out and her eyes widened. Frank was sitting on a chair naked. A slender blonde girl was straddling him, sitting on his cock, rising up and down as he sucked her breasts and squeezed her bare ass. She was moaning in obvious pleasure as Frank sucked hard on her right nipple.
Helen felt an overpowering rage, a desire to rush in and kill both of them, to tear the little slut's filthy blonde hair out and strangle her with it, then to castrate her miserable excuse for a husband. She watched the girl with loathing, with hatred, thinking of all the ways a fragile looking girl like that could be hurt.
She longed to dig her nails into her flesh, to claw her little blue eyes out, to wrap her hands around the slender throat and squeeze the life from her. She glared hatefully as Frank groaned and came, making the same sounds she'd been hearing for years as he pumped his sperm up into the girl.
Helen turned away, almost shaking with rage. She went back to her car and drove home, and it was a good thing no blondes happened to walk in front of her car on the way, because they wouldn't have made it across the street.
That miserable son of a bitch, she thought. She'd kept herself in shape for him, and here he was turning her over for some piece of blonde fluff!
The more she thought about it though, and the more she calmed down and analyzed things, the cooler she became. She hadn't kept herself in shape just for him. She wanted to look good, to feel sexy, so the men would lust after her. She liked that feeling of being wanted.
As for Frank, should she have expected that stupid ignorant bastard to turn away a lush, nubile young thing like that? How old was that little slut, anyway? She didn't look old enough to vote, that was sure. Little teenage slut, so happy she could seduce men, not caring about who they were married to.
It was the girl who was at fault, she decided. Men Frank's age were supposed to get horny at the sight of cute little blondes. But the blondes weren't supposed to drop their pants and spread their legs for the likes of Frank and their friends, they had younger meat at their disposal if they wanted something between the legs.
Frank was going to get it, all right, but it was that little slut Helen really wanted to get. She wondered who she was, how to find out. She could ask Frank, of course, stupid son of a bitch.
The next day she called in sick after Frank had left, then went to the garage, searching for some kind of information that would identify the girl. She unlocked the garage and drove in, then went down the stairs. She unlocked the big steel door and moved slowly down the narrow hall, looking out for bugs.
She opened the first door, where she'd witnessed the lewd sexual antics the other night and went in. The place smelled of sweat, sex, and booze. There were empty beer cans everywhere. There were a few recliners and chairs around, and a couple of tables, but nothing substantial, not even a TV.
She searched around but found nothing that could lead to the identity of anyone who'd been here. She went out into the hall and down to the end. She opened the door there, and turned on the light. She almost screamed when she saw something move, but Helen Ash worth was not the kind of woman that screamed lightly.
At first she couldn't believe her eyes. It was her, the girl. She was stretched out, spreadeagled on a large rough wooden table. Her wrists and ankles were tightly bound to the corners, and she was entirely naked. There was a blindfold over her eyes but Helen was in no doubt. It was her.
She padded quietly up to the side of the table and looked down at her. The girl knew someone was here. She'd heard the door open, the light go on. She turned her head from side to side, straining at the bonds as she moved.
Helen had to admire the play of muscles below the girl's soft skin as she pulled at the ropes holding her. She was unquestionably a lovely young woman, though Helen thought her own body better, fuller, rounder. Certainly she had much larger breasts.
She didn't say anything at first, trying to figure what was going on, what kind of perverted sex games her husband was playing with this slut. She moved around the room slowly, not missing the riding crops, cat O' nine tails, canes, flails, paddles, and other types of devices on the walls, nor the many ropes, handcuffs, leather restraints, and other signs of bondage that lay on shelves.
She saw the chains hangin from the ceiling in various places, and the strange assortment of platforms that were placed against the walls. She speculated on their intent, placing the blonde girl on them to help.
A strap-on dildo lay on a shelf and she picked it up admiringly. She'd had one herself years back, when she'd gone to a boarding school. Many of the girls had taken pleasure in each other, since boys were few and very far between there.
She wondered then where the brunette with the big tits was. Had she gone to work, or to school? Why was the blonde still here? How long had she lain tied like this, surely not since last night.
She put the dildo back on the shelf and picked up another long cylindrical tube, this one metallic. It had a button on one end, and she thought at first it was a vibrator. She flicked the switch but nothing happened but a dull humming. There was a button next to the switch. She touched that. Sparks crackled along the metal tube.
She gasped and almost dropped it. Shit, she thought. She'd heard of those stun gun things. This was something like that, only ... She examined the long tube and wondered if they had really dared ... had they really pushed this into some woman and then ... No, surely not. They wouldn't have the balls.
She turned back to the girl, who had turned her head towards her, as if she could see. The girl didn't call out though. Helen stared over at her, remembering her cries of passion as she'd ridden up and down on Frank's cock, and her eyes narrowed.
She padded back to the table. It was great luck the girl and the others were playing some kind of bondage game. She'd be helpless. Helen could do whatever she wanted to the little slut. Absolutely anything.
She walked up to the table and jerked the blindfold off. The girl's eyes fluttered and blinked in the light, then stared at her in shock. Helen smiled grimly.
"Didn't expect me, did you, you little slut," she snapped.
Of course the use of the word slut immediately convinced Amanda that she was in league with the men who'd brought her here and abused her. She assumed an obedient, willing smile.
"What are you smiling at, you slut?" Helen demanded.
"Nothing, ma'am. I'm sorry," Amanda said, not smiling.
"Where's the other whore, the brunette with the big tits?"
"Gone back home, ma'am." Amanda was doubtful of that, but that was what she'd been told. "But not you, huh, slut. You're still here."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you having fun here, slut?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Amber said. That was not what Helen wanted to hear of course. She glared at the impudent little bitch. "Do you know what this is, you little bitch?" she snarled, holding up metal tube.
"It....it's a ... a cattle prod, Ma'am," Amanda whispered.
It was?
"Do you know what it feels like?"
"Yes, ma'am," Amber gulped fearfully.
"Oh, you do. Well, you and those pigs must be having a helluva time then. What are you, some kind of sick little masochist?"
"Uhm, yes, ma'am," Amber said, agreeing with whatever was suggested. That was the way the men usually wanted her to behave.
But of course Helen just thought of her as being snotty and impertinent. She touched the tip of the prod to the girl's right nipple, mostly as a threat. The girl hissed in fear and clenched her teeth in anticipation.
"Maybe you'd like this up your cunt, bitch?"
"Yes please," Amber whimpered. She'd been with the men for almost a week now. If someone suggested she'd like something she knew she had better agree, no matter what she really thought. "You'd like this up your ass, wouldn't you, slut?" one of the men would say, and she'd say, "Oh yes, sir."
Helen glared in anger, then, without really thinking about it, touched the button. Power surged through the metal rod and crackled against the girl's nipple and tit. She screamed, arching her back violently and jamming her breast even more firmly against the rod.
Helen jerked the thing back immediately, swallowing in surprise. The girl's body jerked and shuddered, then lay still, her chest heaving.
"Tha ... thank you, ma'am," Amber moaned.
Helen looked at her in disbelief. What a fucking whore she was! No wonder Helen couldn't compete with her. She glared down at the girl, then, feeling strangely drawn to do it, she touched the tip to her nipple again.
Once again the girl howled in agony, her body straining and pulling, thrashing and shaking, bouncing maniacally on the table.
Helen swallowed nervously. She'd wanted to hurt this slut, to hurt her badly ... but ... she was feeling strange about it, not satisfied as she did when she got her revenge on someone, but ... engrossed, captivated by the girl's pain, by her wild thrashing, her desperate screams of agony.
The girl was whimpering, shaking, trembling like a leaf in a storm. She looked up at Helen with real fear in her eyes. Her chest heaved, sweat standing out on forehead. Helen's eyes skimmed her nude body, sliding over the creamy young thighs, the smooth, trim belly, the firm round breasts with their tiny nipples.
She touched the prod to her chest between her breasts, not activating it, sliding it slowly up and down her chest, circling her breasts, then easing down onto her concave stomach, over her abdomen, then through the thin nest of golden pubic hair.
She pushed the thing against the girl's slit, sliding it slowly up and down. She pulled it away, amazed it herself. She was hot, aroused. She was panting for breath, her juices flowing, her legs trembling, her thighs unconsciously clenching, squeezing together.
She didn't understand it. Sure, she'd had a few lesbian affairs as a girl, but nothing since and hadn't been tempted. It wasn't just the girl, just her body, it was ... it was the power over her, the absolute power, like a God, no, a Goddess.
She laid a hand on Amanda's breast, stroking it slowly, squeezing the soft meat. Her hand followed the path the cattle prod had, until it was down over her slit. She slowly and gently pried the pubic lips apart and inspected her gleaming pink flesh.
She looked up at the girl's face, then down at the slit. She placed the prod against her hole and eased it inside, shocked at her behaviour, but almost trembling with anticipation. An inch, she pushed inside, telling herself that was more than enough.
Then a second, a third, five, seven, nine. The girl was moaning, pulling at her bonds. Helen pumped the prod in and out like a dildo, like a cock, sliding it ever deeper, forcing it high into the blonde's belly, her thumb caressed the button, hesitating, as if she didn't quite dare it, didn't quite have the courage.
"Did you like fucking my husband?" she asked.
"Who?"
"The blonde."
"Yes, I liked it," Amanda whimpered.
She pressed her thumb down and the blonde howled in despair, her flesh burning from the inside her. Her head thrashed from side to side, bouncing and jerking against the table. Her limbs strained mightily as she convulsed in terrible agony. Her nervous system tore to pieces as the fiery, crackly electricity ripped through her flesh and bone and tore into her brain.
Helen let go of the button, then eased the prod down out of the girl's pussy. Even without the power tearing through her, the blonde continued to twitch and jerk and quiver.
Helen was trembling a little herself. She felt guilty at what she'd done, even though the little slut surely deserved it, and even though she was practically begging for it. Still, Helen couldn't believe how much she herself was getting off on it.
She slid her hand over the trembling girl's body, feeling the heat, the moisture of her sweat. Her fingers coasted up onto the girl's heaving chest, over her breasts. She felt the pounding heart through her breasts. She slid her fingers around the girl's throat, not squeezing, just ... holding it.
It occurred to her that the blonde would do anything, absolutely anything she wanted, that she would do it and not protest, do it enthusiastically.
She eyed the tight chains binding her wrist and ankle restraints, but the girl was small and weak looking, certainly unable to overpower her. She freed her arms and legs and pulled her off the table. The blonde couldn't stand and Helen let her sink to her knees before her.
"This is a nice little place here," Helen said, "Every man should have one, don't you think."
She picked up a dog collar with a leash attached and turned to the still trembling blonde.
"Yours?" she smiled, holding it up.
She dropped it and eyed a collection of dildos and vibrators, then with a short laugh, picked up an odd leather device. It was, she realized, the kind of thing one put on a horse to control it. What was it called ... a bridle? It even had blinders.
The idea was outrageous, yet what else could it be for? She carried it back to the blonde and pulled it over her head just as the girl looked up. She gripped her jaw, just as she used to do to a horse when she was a girl at camp and as the girl moaned and opened her mouth, Helen shoved the bit in between her teeth and into the back of her mouth.
She swept the reins up over her head and then adjusted the straps behind the blonde's head, buckling them tightly.
"Now don't you look pretty," she grinned contemptuously. She pulled on the reins, moving behind the girl. She snapped them, yelling "Gidyap". They slapped on the girl's bare back and upturned ass cheeks and she let out a yelp and started crawling forward.
God, Helen thought, this is so perverted, so sick. Still, she snapped the reins again and the girl continued to crawl. Too bad there wasn't a cart or something for her to pull," Helen thought in excited amusement.
She had the girl crawl all around the room before halting before something that caught her eye. It was a cane, a simple, old-fashioned cane like the one the principal of her girl's school had years back, long and thing and ... She swung it, hearing it hiss as it cut through the air. This would hurt like hell.
She turned to the girl, feeing the urge welling up inside her, the urge to use it on her, to strike the blonde's soft round ass flesh. It was so vulnerable, and it would feel so good to crack the cane down on it.
Yet something restrained her. How could she simply begin striking the girl without cause? She'd already caused her terrible pain, true, but that had been a simple matter of pressing a button, to actually raise her hand and strike the girl ... it needed some reason, some justification, at least to her.
"You're a real whore, aren't you, girl," she sneered, moving around in front of her. "No wonder Frank fucks you, that's what you were made for."
She pressed the tip of the cane against Amanda's chin, forcing it up, forcing her up and back on her heels. She ran the tip down her throat and onto her right breast, poking it, scraping it across the nipple. "Not much there," she sniffed. "Call those tits?"
She flicked the cane up sharply, snapping it over the nipple painfully hard. The girl gasped but didn't move or try to object.
"I'm a real woman, not some pathetic little toy slut," Helen glared. "Want to see what a real woman looks like?"
She unbuttoned her starched white shirt and shrugged it off. Below, for all intents and purposes, she was naked. She wore a black support garment that was really just a bra without cups. It lifted and separated her breasts from below, but left them almost entirely bare. She liked that, it made her feel sexy. Besides, she liked her nipples to show through her shirt sometimes.
Now she felt a sexual heat, a fire in her loins as she showed them naked to the girl, to a mere child, one who was a complete stranger. She felt a combination of embarrassment, pride, and excitement as the girl looked at her breasts.
"See these, whore? Don't you wish you had breasts like these?"
"Ye ... yes, ma'am," Amanda gulped fearfully.
"Stand up then," she said, snapping the reins. She tugged on them as Amanda rose to her feet. The girl tall, almost as tall as Helen, but much lighter, thinner.
"Feel them," Helen said, tensing up as the girl stared at her breasts. Obediently, the blonde raised her hands and squeezed Helen's large breasts. Helen fought down a gasp of pleasure, feeling the heat rising in the pit of her belly.
"Lick them, suck the nipples," she said, sure the girl would refuse. Again she obeyed, bending, stroking her left breast with her hand as she sucked on her right nipple. Her tongue rasped against the hard round button as she sucked, and her teeth gnawed a little.
Helen felt her head throb with sexual tensions, with the power she had over the lovely young girl. She could do anything, anything!
The girl continued to suck on her nipple, until Helen pulled her over to the other one. She never complained, never spoke, never voiced any hesitation.
Helen pushed her back. She wanted to strip off her tight black pants, yet ... she felt shy, uncomfortable about the girl seeing her do it.
"Turn around," she ordered.
The girl turned her back to Helen. Helen felt another surge of pleasure. She slipped off her shoes, then undid her pants and skimmed them down. She slipped off her black panties then, naked but for the support bra, stepped into her high heels again.
She hesitated to tell the girl to turn, newly shy. The girl had lovely round buttocks, perfectly round. Helen felt jealousy. Her own ass was not nearly so perfect. She was more then twice the girl's age, after all.
"Bend over, slut," she said. The girl let out a small whimper, then obeyed, bending forward. Helen watched the girl's ass tighten up still further, the skin drawing back as the meat of her ass pulled tight. She felt the cane in her fingers and knew an almost overpowering urge to swing it down on those perfect little ass cheeks.
But she needed an excuse. Why, though, she wondered. What would the girl do, complain? She doubted it.
She slid the tip of the cane between the blonde's thighs, goosing her, rubbing it back and forth against her pussy mound. She pulled it back, then suddenly swung it down on the round ass. There was a hiss as it cut through the air then a loud thwack of noise as it struck the girl.
The blonde cried out in pain but held her position, trembling and whimpering as a line of red appeared across her twin cheeks. Helen felt fire blossoming between her own legs, a heat that threatened to consume her. She trembled, then slashed the cane down on the lovely ass again.
Another line of red cut across her cheeks as Amanda cried out in pain. Again the cane slashed down, then again, and again, and again.
"Come here, slut," Helen gasped, unable to take the pain of her pleasure any more. She gripped the girl's hair and jerked her around, then forced her to her knees in front of her. She pulled her face into her groin, jamming her mouth up into her slit as the girl automatically began to lick.
She spread her legs, both hands on the girl's blonde hair as her tongue slid into Helen's pussy and began probing for her clit. Helen groaned, arching her back, humping against the teenager as she felt her tongue rasping across her clitty, felt the girl's lips sucking on the hot bud and her mouth, her tongue, her ... her....
She couldn't take it, she came, explosively, gurgling in wonder, swaying back and forth, humping furiously into Amanda's face as she felt the orgasm ripple up and down her spine. So good, she thought wondrously, so gooood.