Paul Gable - A mother enslaved

Two miles away Shari Framington was taking advantage of her mother's absence.

"So, your Uncle Max is… interesting?" Shari asked, licking her lips. She had heard doing this made a woman more sexy, something she desperately wanted right now in front of Bobby.

"Yeah, real interesting. You'd like him," the tall high school fullback said, narrowing his eyes and studying Shari closely.

They were both in an upstairs room directly over a garage Bobby's uncle Max rented and had refurbished… for what, Shari didn't know nor did she care. This was the first might she had had out without her mother nosing around. Lydia hadn't said when she would be back, but hinted it would be very, very late.

Shari knew it was forward, but she had called Bobby as soon as her mother had rushed from the house. He had intimated he would like to see her. Shari knew what was on his mind and shivered for it. Bad girls did that sort of thing – at least her mother had told her that. But how desperately she wanted to be a bad girl now. It would only be for one night, and that night would be spent with a guy she had creamed her panties over nearly every day when she saw him in class.

"Maybe. Maybe I could meet him some day, later," Shari said, sitting down on the edge of a small bed. The room was simply furnished – two chain, a table, some shelves with metal boxes pushed back on them, the bed and a cloak rack near the door.

"Yeah, later. But that's not why we're here, is it?"

Shari lowered her eyes, peering under her long blonde lashes while feeling the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She had purposely worn something provocative – her red halter, her white shorts snugged up against her crotch. She could feel the silken material sliding up into her pussy-crack and gasped at the delicious strange feeling. Bobby was doing this to her… Bobby and the strange, sexy way he made her feel with his knowing eyes. And now he was coming up to her, breathing heavily, raising both hands and catching her, head with his fingers. She thought the move was a little rough. But maybe that's the way beautiful love affairs started. She was so dumb about things like that.

"Bobby…"

He smothered her words with a kiss, his tongue sliding between her lips and pushing down her throat. He was getting awfully rough! She felt his hands grabbing her round the back, moving down until they stopped at her firm, taut ass. The way he was kneading her asscheeks, bunching up the material into her asscrack frightened Shari. She drew her hands up, pressing the flats of her palms against his chest and pushing for all her might. Still that tongue stayed in her mouth, wriggling around, plunging down into her throat until the teen thought she would pass out.

"Bobby… no! You're… you're getting so rough!"

That sharp laugh. The way he was peering down at her, his eyes boring into her. Her nostrils flared while she tried squirming away from him. Snarling, the big athlete pushed her roughly down onto the bed, not giving her a chance to catch her breath while he slipped over her and pinned her to the mattress. There were unzipping sounds, then the feel of something terribly hot and hard gouging against her crotch. He was going to rape her. Shari's mind went blank with ten or, her heart beating so hard against her ribcage while she felt his knees spreading hers so wide apart.

"No!"

"Shut up!"

He struck her, bringing his knuckles hard down across her chin and slapping her half-senseless. Coming to, she flailed at his back with her small fists, driving her heels against the backs of his legs. His cock had found that shallow spot where she new her cunt-mouth lay hidden behind that thin membrane. No. No. Things had gone too far! Her breath came in fast little, animal pants as she wrenched her face away from his and tried pushing herself once again to the side of the small bed.

It was useless. He had her pinned to the bed helpless. She couldn't get her hands down to hurt him, to make him stop trying to hurt her. A sob choked the girl. Bobby was pushing his fingers through her hair now, pulling at it, making her squeal while he gouged his prick against her crushed cunt-lips. Something was going to happen now – something so awful the girl didn't want to think about it. Why, oh why had she left the safety of her home?

Shari had been spared the rape – or at least, so she thought when Bobby backed off and slid from the bed. But then the girl discovered he had something far more devious in mind. He told her to strip, standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently. She just couldn't do it and sat there beating at him, her mouth torn open in a shrill scream while he ripped the halter from her tits, then began tearing the shorts down her thighs.

Muttering a curse, the young athlete let Shari shriek and hit him until she scratched his face with her nails. With a shout, Bobby brought his hand down hard against the side of her head, knocking her senseless to the bed.

What happened then Shari could only remember parts of. He had her over his shoulder, tossing a blanket of some kind over her and carrying her from the tiny room, down the back stairs, then into the double garage. It was when he dropped her heavily like a sack on a wooden table that the girl opened her eyes, blinking them clear.

It was difficult for her to see anything clearly at first. There was only one light Bobby had flicked on, and it burned over the side door to the right. There were frightening-looking objects looming in the darkness near her. And all around were shelves and cabinets. A strange odor of leather and gasoline permeated the air as Shari hugged her body with her arms, feeling the chill of the air.

Bobby was rattling around behind her, pulling something from one of those cabinets. In a moment Shari felt something smooth and cool against her snide. She wanted to say something, to move, but decided that playing dead would be her beat ploy for the moment. And she felt the cuff cinch tightly around her ankle, then another wrap around her left, the girl still remained quiet.

"Now, we'll get the other one and we'll be set," Bobby said to himself.

He was pulling her arms out, attaching two more cuffs to her ankles, then moving to one side and pulling her arms back until her shoulders and tits rose from the table. Shari groaned, looking around at Bobby, wanting to wriggle free of his grip. But she remembered the slap, the shocking pain of his fist against her face and the hammering blow that knocked her out. He would do it again, hurting her more than ever.

She didn't struggle, letting him pull her back, back until her fingers were touching her ankles. There was some fumbling. Then Shari realized with a shock what he was doing. There were small hooks on the cuffs, hooks he now fastened to the ankle restraints, binding her hands to her feet, stretching her spine back in a great curve. Shari gasped, feeling the pulling sensation painfully against her throat. Her belly stretched while her thighs knotted and cramped from the awkward position.

"Bobby please, no more, no… no more," she stammered, blinking away the tears.

But there was more. Obviously pleased at her discomfort, the young man pulled an old wooden chair to the side of the workbench, standing on the rickety furniture and fumbling with something high overhead. Shari wanted to see what he was doing, but couldn't raise her head without causing pain in her spine. There were clanking sounds, then a steady scraping of something being lowered. Again Shari twisted her head and saw two giant iron rings suspended from the ceiling by two large lengths of chain.

Quickly Bobby separated the rings, moving one to her right ankle and wrist and slipping two lengths of brown leather around the chain and the iron ring, fixing the assembly tightly together. He did the same to the other ring, stepping from the chair and moving into the darkness.