Paul Gable - Raped daughter, roped mother

"Ohhhhhffffff!" he panted.

She liked smelling his groin this way, feeling his body against her face. And all the while he was fucking her mouth, stretching her lips with his prick, his balls slapping against her chin.

"Man, oh man, you're gonna make me cum if you keep doin' that," Brad warned, pulling away from her. He held her back, his cock jerking in her face, his cock knob purplish red.

One moment he was breathing heavily, caressing her head, and sticking his cock into her mouth while groaning as if he were about to shoot in her throat. And the next he was pushing her away, staring at her as if she were the enemy.

"What?" she asked.

He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers bruising her flesh.

"Oh, Brad!" she cried.

She knew he was going to take her brutally, tear into her with his rigid prick.

"Stupid!" he yelled.

With that he threw her backward. She sprawled across the floor, one leg bent and pinned beneath her. Wendy's hair curtained her face, temporarily blinding her to what he was doing. There was a gradual tensing of his character, a brutalizing, vulgarizing, of it as he became more excited and aroused. The Brad she knew was disappearing, buried under this new man, a man she both wanted and feared.

He stood over Wendy now, reminding her of some God of war. As he loomed over her, his eyes burned with a lust that terrified her. Brad was such a big man, so powerful, so intense. And now he stood above her, hands on his hips, his legs spread widely apart.

"Come…" he ordered.

Brad stepped toward her. Wendy hissed and drew back. He advanced faster. She scooted back. The carpet burned her ass as she pushed with her feet toward the bathroom. He came faster, closer. She couldn't outdistance him.

"Noooo…" she whined.

He was swearing at her. She answered him with a terrified moan. His grin was the most horrifying, frightening expression she'd ever seen in her life. He was changing right in front of her eyes, turning into some kind of monster.

"You're gonna do everything I want, understand? You don't have a choice, baby."

Wendy nodded, too frightened to speak. Their pleasant evening was turning into a terrible nightmare for her. She never would have believed Brad was this kind of man.

The carpet piling tickled her asshole and her thighs rubbed against the floor.

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson… a lesson you can teach all the other cunts around the office."

He reached for her, his face close, his heels rubbing her knees.

"What have I done?" she wailed, her eyes wide with horror.

"When I'm through with you, you'll wish you were up in solitary fucking your brains out with every fuckin' inmate in solitary."

"What've I done? What have I done?" she wailed again and again as he jerked her from the floor.

Wendy stumbled to a standing position, her arm nearly pulled from the socket by his violent wrenching. His fingers moved swiftly to the elastic band of her bra. Wendy gasped as she felt the halter being torn from her back. Her tits sprung out, slapping wetly against her chest. Brad leaned back and admired her tits. Wendy quickly jerked her hands up to cover her naked tits.

Brad only laughed at her apparent modesty. He walked around her slowly, telling Wendy what he thought of her and her "kind" of cocktease.

"You broads go around the office wigglin' your asses and tits, then pretend you don't want to fool around," Brad whispered, smoothing his knuckles over her flesh. Wendy moaned and shrank from his touch. "Even here you tried to play coy, then, boy, you heated up fast when the chips were down. Let's see just how fuckin' fast you can heat up when I'm callin' the shots."

She felt his fingers grip her panties, heard the awful tearing sound. In a moment, he had ripped the pink nylon briefs from her thighs. She was stark naked. Wendy dropped one hand over her exposed cunt, keeping the other pressed against her tits.

"No…" she cried. The trapped woman whimpered, crawling back until her legs once again brushed against the bed. She was cornered, unable to go anywhere.

"No use, baby, you're gonna get me and you're gonna dig it."

"No, no, I won't," she whispered back, shaking her head from side to side while still trying to cover up her cunt and tits.

Brad said nothing more. He rushed at her, one hand hitting her in the chest, shoving her back onto the bed.

Wendy cried out, her arms flung to each side of her body for balance while she bounced against the mattress. Behind her, she heard the headboard rattle. Her tits slapped together and her legs flew apart. Temporarily stunned, Wendy lay there, aware of a shadow quickly falling on top of her.

There was a sudden crush of weight. It was Brad, growling and snapping at her angrily. He had knocked the wind from her when bounded on top of her. His fingers pawed at her body, squeezed her tits, grabbed her ass, pinched her thighs while his cock slid up and down in the groove of her legs.

"Fuck, fuck…" he moaned.

For the moment Wendy was too terrified to respond. She felt his prick, felt his legs pinning her to the mattress, felt his fingers brutalizing her. And all she could do was moan softly.

"Want it bad, don'tcha? Man, I can feel how fuckin' hot you are down there."

He was rearing back, staring down at her, his eyes boring into. Before she could say a word he had raised his hand and brought it down, slapping her savagely across the face.

Wendy let out a strangled cry, her head snapping to the left. She could still feel the welts on her cheeks seconds later as he slid off the bed and padded to the dresser.

Inching her head up, blinking away tears, Wendy lay there and watched Brad fish through several drawers, pulling out three or four silken bathrobe belts.

He turned around, his lips curled into the hellish grin that had made her tremble so earlier. He came back to the bed, his fat, long prick wagging from aside to side.

"No, no, this can't be happening," she whispered.

Her eyes widened as she watched him stretch one belt tightly between his hands. He was going to strangle her right there in bed, she thought.

"It's already happening, baby."

But, as it turned out, he had no intention of strangling the terrified woman. He was pushing her down on the bed, bending over with the belt.

"Gimme your hands," he ordered.

"I said gimme your fuckin' hands," he bellowed, his voice cutting through her.

Wendy shrank from him, clasping her hands together and stretching them forward. Brad grunted with approval, slipping the belt around her hands and tying them tightly together using a square knot.

Wendy whimpered, her forehead wrinkled, as he used a second belt. Brad fastened it to her bound wrists, then wrapped the free end around a post in the Mediterranean style headboard. He stretched her back, fastening the second belt tightly.

"Oh please… please… don't do it. Oh God, don't…"

Wendy fearfully suspected that he was going to hurt her badly. And in that position there was nothing she'd be able to do about it.

"Yeah, sure."

He brought out the third belt, looping it around her right ankle and fixing it with a slipknot. Then slowly, carefully, Brad raised her leg, watching her face reflect growing terror.

"Oh no, no…" she pleaded.

He brought her leg upward until her toes were touching the headboard and her bound wrists. Wendy cried out, bringing her other leg up to ease the tension in her cunt and ass.

Brad was tying her ankle to her wrist, cinching the knot so tightly that he cut off some of the circulation to her toes.

"Now for the other one," he muttered.

There was more movement. She felt him sliding the last belt around her left ankle, knotting the silken bond tightly. He brought her leg up to the other, fastening it to the headboard. She was hog tied, her body bent in a U. Because her wrists were fastened to her ankles, the woman's cunt remained naked, exposed, splayed open.