Paul Gable - Her mother in bondage

"You'll stay there for a while," he said, checking the knots, then slipping from the room.

He was gone! Even in her twisted position, Marcie was grateful that he was gone. She slumped forward, her head nearly touching her knees. In that awkward position she fell asleep, her mind not daring to think of what further horrors awaited her.

"Have any trouble with the old lady?" Marcie awoke with a start. She heard Jack's muffled voice. Her mother was here! The young teenager tried to scramble to her feet. The damned board! And now both her wrists and ankles were fastened to it! The bruises and the marks on her body told the story. She felt shame and guilt rush through her like a raging river. Tears of humiliation burned her eyes. How could she face her mother in this condition?

"Naw, she was a good bitch. I had to knock 'er around a little. I got a bonus in the car. He's still knocked out. Gave him another dose of chloroform."

Then Marcie couldn't make out what they were saying until they broke out into wild laughter.

It was Jack's voice. He shouted and laughed. What were they talking about? Was her mother there? Marcie felt her heart beating wildly. What had they done to her? Had she suffered similar pain and sexual humiliation? The more she thought about it, the more she was certain her mother had. Marcie cringed when she heard footsteps approach the door. It creaked open. A man stood there, someone who looked like Jack but who was a little larger across the chest and shoulders.

"Wh-who are you?"

He said nothing, standing there and examining the girl and her bonds. Brad rocked slowly back and forth on his heels, his black eyes glittering with evil excitement. Raising one hand, he scratched his unkempt beard and smiled.

"You done real good, brother. She's tied up like a fuckin' hog. Come on, let's have a little fun with them now."

Marcie watched, her flesh chilling as he walked up to her and grabbed her around the waist. "Come on, bitch, up! UP!"

He hauled her up until she was back in that grotesque bent-over position, her ass riding high in the air. She tugged at the ropes automatically as she felt her balance fail her more than once.

"Walk!"

"I…"

"I said move it, bitch!"

Glancing up, she caught the shadow of Brad's left hand rising high in the air, then it sliced through the air in a broad arc. She knew what was going to happen. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and tensed. The whacking sound was followed by a rush of hot, painful sensations. She stumbled forward, moving her leg a few inches and nearly teetering over. Her asscheeks reddened and jiggled from the force of that slapping blow.

"Now the other foot."

She moved like a robot. First one foot, then the other, her tits swinging and jiggling as the board cut cruelly into her ankles and wrists. Sweat beaded her forehead as the effort of walking in that doubled-over position with hands and feet bound tired her.

"Though the door."

Marcie glanced up. The doorway couldn't possibly accommodate both her and the board. She kept on walking, turning slightly to one side. The board hit the molding. Marcie backed away and turned a little more, seeing if she could somehow edge sideways through the opening.

Brad watched, his thick lips turning up into a grin. "Try a little harder," he said, reaching down and pinching one fat nipple.

Marcie yelped and started back, nearly falling on her ass. In the next room she heard her mother cry out.

"Oh Marcie, Marcie! What've they done to you?" Rhoda wailed.

"Mom! I…"

"Shaddup!" Brad shouted, slapping her twice across her plump asscheeks. Her firm round cheeks shivered under the blows as Marcie bit her lip and tried to remain silent.

"Okay, baby, you're in the right position for it," Brad said, pushing Marcie through the doorway.

"Oh God!"

Rhoda covered her face with both hands, a torn dress covering her body. She couldn't believe what she was seeing… her daughter, her lovely, innocent daughter stooped over in that horrible position! Marcie was dirty and bruised. Her daughter had obviously been beaten and probably raped several times. Now she was bent over like a crawfish, her ankles and wrists bound together to a board. Rhoda groaned softly, wishing there were some way she could erase the past few hours.

"See there, baby, see?" Brad grabbed a handful of Marcie's hair.

Marcie screamed, her eyelids fluttering as she glanced in the direction Brad indicated. Her mother was standing some ten feet in front of her, her face drained white with horror as she stared in disbelief at her tortured daughter. Marcie felt such shame she could have died!

"Bet you don't know what I caught your old lady doin', do you?" Brad asked, his eyes twinkling with evil merriment.

"You're gonna see you don't fuck around with men, real men, understand?" Brad said, reaching up and gripping Rhoda's hands. It was awful, just like being in some kind of Nazi concentration camp.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reported the incident," Rhoda wailed.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have done nothin'. But it's too late now," Jack said.

Rhoda watched helplessly as her daughter flashed her questioning looks.

"Like mother, like daughter, eh?" Brad said, slipping one hand down around Rhoda's ass and pinching her asscheek.

"You leave me alone!" Rhoda said, slapping his offending hand.

"Bitch! You ain't got no choice!" he said, grabbing her hand and twisting it until she cried out in pain.

"Let go, let go!" she cried in a hoarse whisper. He was going to break her wrist with that twisting motion. Her knees trembled, then bent. She turned and begged again for him to let go. Her hair hung in front of her eyes. Her face reddened. The woman swore she heard something popping in her wrists.

Brad pulled Rhoda's hair, silencing the woman with a violent tug. She groaned, then forced herself to remain quiet as her daughter's degradation continued.

Marcie didn't care about anything any longer. The thoughts of her home, of her mother, of her friends, disappeared from her mind. She could have died in ecstasy doing this and it wouldn't matter. The caressing light touch of Rex's tongue was the loveliest thing she'd felt. Fucking. Yes, she needed fucking!

"Fuck! Fuck!"

The girl kept repeating that wonderful, horrible word, prancing her ass around shamelessly.

In a moment the two men returned, dragging her out to see yet another horror – her daughter hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, her naked body twisting slowly, slowly.

"You go up too," Jack said.

They looped ropes around her wrists, then bound them tightly together as they had with her daughter. Then they tied Rhoda to a longer rope that looped over the single beam supporting the cabin's ceiling. Mother and daughter soon hung like sides of beef from the beam facing each other.

Marcie seemed unconscious at first. Rhoda felt the terrible pulling in her shoulders that sent shocks of pain radiating through her arms and belly. But still she wanted to know if her daughter was all right. She whispered her name. But the blonde teen remained lifeless, twisting on the ropes obscenely.

"A little belting will take care of any fuckin' ideas you got about actin' so prissy-assed later on," Jack said, reaching down and unbuckling his belt. He slid the leather through his pant loops, looking up at Rhoda. "I'm gonna strip those fuckin' clothes off you, bitch, with this," he said, looping the belt and tapping it against his thighs.

He circled her, beating the belt in a steady rhythm against his legs. She watched him, her eyelids crinkling, her heart pounding. Rhoda knew she was the prime target, the reason for all this happening.

Suddenly he was in front of her, his fist flying forward. "Ughhhhhhh!"