Paul Gable - Mom in a harness

"Let's go downstairs. Less chance of her findin' us down there, in case she does come back early," Jack said, pushing back from the table and standing straight.

Monica felt herself drawn to this man, this animal who was bent on mastering her. There was time, still time for her to run from him. But something made her turn and move to the kitchen door, open it and begin descending to the basement. She gripped the rotting handrail, hearing Jack's boot-heavy tread behind her. There were all the familiar appliances around her – the washer, the dryer, the waterheater, the double sink for rinsing out clothes. There were all the things she had used so mundanely before. But now it was all changed by this stranger who had touched some forbidden chord in her soul only a few days ago.

"Oh!" she gasped.

Jack had dropped the toolbox with a heavy clatter on the concrete floor.

"Strip!"

The command was simple, direct. There was almost a military edge to it as Jack pulled off his dirty, white cotton t-shirt, exposing the hairy expanse of his developed chest. Monica shivered a shudder of lust as she reached back with numbing fingers to unhook her halter. She felt the broad straps loosen around her shoulders immediately, the garment falling over her tits, then slipping to the floor. She could feel Jack's eyes burning her flesh as her fingers hooked around the waistband of her shorts and pushed down. Something like this was going to happen today. She had not known that, suspected it strongly, anyway. That's why she had worn no panties. The woman felt the sexy rub of the soft cotton against her thighs, felt her cuntlips swelling as she stepped from her shorts and finally stood there near the rinse basin, completely naked. Jack was bending down, having already opened the heavy top of the toolbox. Monica watched with growing curiosity as he fished around, finally pulling out what appeared to be several long pieces of black leather strips haphazardly fastened together at various points by rusty studs.

"Turn around."

Again, the military command tone; again, the immediate obedience. Somewhere in the distance, she heard several dogs barking. The sounds of children playing filtered in through the dirty, small windows at ground level. No one would peer in, see what was happening in this modest, two-story, wood-frame home. "Around your shoulders."

Two straps fell across her shoulders, the remainder of the harness-like device falling forward. A metal ring lay flat just between her jutting tits to which the two straps over her shoulders were attached. A longer third strip hung down toward her cunt from the ring.

"Now, gonna jockey this mother around to make it right. You're gonna be a good horse, baby, a real good horsie!"

His cutting words excited her imagination more, made her pussy cream and her clit pop up, red and stiff, from the surrounding moist flesh. It was such a strange device. Two more straps were attached laterally just below the top ring. These Jack fastened quickly like belts around her chest and hipbone, snugging them so tightly that her white flesh bunched up under the leather.

"Now for these. You're gonna dig havin' this bitin' into your pussy," Jack whispered, his fingers brushing over her cunt as they searched for two narrow strips of leather buckled at the end which dangled from the bottom belt gripping her hipbones. Jack took each strip, tucking it between her legs, making sure it was just on the edge of her drooling pussy groove. Monica threw her head back at the cool, comforting touch of the slick leather. Such a feeling of delight, of hot pleasure coursing through her bound body! The big stud tightened the crotch strips, pulling them around between her legs, then attaching the buckles to two positions on the rear of the lower belt. She was harnessed completely, her body encased in the soft, pliant leather.

"On your fuckin' knees, bitch!"

Jack put both hands on her shoulders, forcing Monica down to the floor. She complied, feeling the leather tensing around her shoulders and hips as she sank down into a doggie position. Her hands were stretched in front of her, her head hung down, her long blonde hair touching the floor and sweeping over her whitened knuckles. Jack smoothed his hands over her asscheeks, tugging on the leather, watching the woman wince at the increased pressure.

"Oh!" Monica choked.

He had slapped her hard with the back of his hand, long red stripes appearing on her right asscheek from the sudden, sharp smack.

"Get your hands back here," he said, lightly kicking the bottom strap around her hipbones with the tip of his boot.

Monica didn't want to anger her so-called master. Quickly sliding her arms back, she pressed her elbows against her sides while drawing her wrists together at the base of her spine. She crouched there like that as Jack moved back to his opened toolbox and pulled out a set of fleece-lined leather wristcuffs. Opening them all the way, he slipped one around each wrist, buckling them tightly, then hooking them together with a small set of rings attached to the small leather restraints. Next he fastened the linked cuffs to a small iron clamp in the rear center of the lower belt, thus preventing the woman from moving her arms as he had done the night before.

"Oh, God, God! This is… is hideous," she whimpered, tugging at her wrists, feeling a flash of moral guilt at what was happening to her.

"Right, and you dig every second of it, bitch. That's what you are," Jack said, pulling out what appeared to be a black latex tube with two small straps attached to either end. The big stud took the tube and jammed it deep into Monica's mouth, scraping it over her teeth and pulling back until it was pressing hard and painfully against the junction of her lips. Her jawbones arched as he drew the straps around her head, fastening them firmly together. It was now impossible for her to speak as she knelt there in that awkward position, the leather harness rubbing wonderfully and painfully against her flesh.

"Leather bitch," Jack muttered, moving around and smacking her naked ass hard with his hand.

"Mmmfmmfmffff!"

Monica let out a muffled cry, her eyes wide, her hair sweeping over the floor as his fingers burned into her bare assflesh. A burning tingle teased at her clit, and more pussy cream seeped from her fuckhole, wetting down the crotch straps.

"Bitch! Stupid, shit-bitch, I know your type," Jack hissed through his clenched teeth, striking his hand against her plump asscheeks twice, his fingertips leaving small, red marks where they bit into her white, jiggling flesh. "Trot that bitchin' ass around, then keep that pussy to yourself. That's what your old man used to say – you teased the shit outta him before you finally put out! Man, he should see you now," Jack said, snorting out a degrading laugh. Monica gasped through the gag when she felt him sticking one finger up her asshole, jamming it in to the second joint. "You can't get that butt up high enough for me," he added, pulling out his finger, wiping it against his Levi's, then raising one foot again and pressing the filthy sole against her ass.

"Ohfhfhfffff!"

He straightened his leg quickly, forcing the terrified woman forward, her forehead striking the floor. Monica cried out in pain and fear, losing her balance and toppling onto her right side.

"In the dirt, baby, that's where you belong, crawlin' around in the fuckin' dirt."

Jack was getting excited, his voice trembling more and more with each passing second as he looked down at the helpless, leather-bound, gagged blonde. Moving his foot up, he ground down on her spine, making Monica gasp through the gag and work her fingers against the restraining cuffs. She tried crawling forward, her nose scraping against the concrete, her tits pillowing out under her body, and her knees pressed down against the floor. The leather straps were cutting into her flesh even more, now that she was prone. And how those strips felt, cutting into her pussylips! How it felt when one of them slipped up on her juiceslicked flesh and rubbed over her clit!