Peter Jensen - The blackmailed mother book II

She would show him, she had drummed through her recoiling brain, she would show him that she could please no matter what he would demand. He wanted her to act as a whore, then she would be his whore! She would suck anything if he said suck, fuck anything if he said fuck! Nausea had made her weave and clutch the faded paint door way of the room, but somehow she staggered onward, holding onto her child with determination born of hysterical hopelessness.

The (un)dressing room had been small, like a closet, most of it taken up by the huge, white-covered double bed and gold chains which she knew all too well. Lonnie's stomach had churned with the lurid remembrances of seeing the young girl only slightly older than her own little girl being cruelly raped by an enormous dog while she… while she… The mental words hadn't come to describe her own inexcusable acts, and for an instant the room had blurred and she had the distinct feeling that she was falling… her eyes faintly staring up at the electrical hoists mounted on the ceiling which lowered the chain-driven bed to the spot-lit stage below. Zeigler's fingers had caught her in time, and his talon-like grip had made her perk back to the real world, for his touch had been something incredibly repulsive to her now; but she had made a promise, and swallowing back the nausea which acidly choked her throat, she had allowed the gangster to lead her beside the large, rectangular bed, and she had breathed deeply of air musty and unclean, with its odor of untamed sex and depravity-induced sweat.

And now the lecherous gangster, Zeigler, was rubbing his hands up and down his pants in anticipatory excitement, and his eyes burned holes through the pretty young wife of Roger Carmel. He said with a hoarse, trembling raucousness, "The show's about to begin. It's time you and your daughter, Jennifer, got ready. Strip, Lonnie baby, take those clothes off just like you did for me once today, and if that hot-cunted little girl of yours won't do it herself, you undress her, too." He chortled demoniacally. "Just pretend you're home and Jennifer's unable to get into bed herself, and you have to do it for her."

In spite of her admonition to be brave, Lonnie Carmel couldn't help herself from moaning with heart-rending sobs. Tears burst from her dejected eyes, and she cried into her hands with long, weeping sobs. "Oh God help us," she blubbered.

"Goddamnit, I said take off your clothes!" Zeigler roared in uncontained urgency. "There's fifty people down there waiting to see you two perform, and at a hundred bucks a head entrance charge and five dollars a drink, they want their satisfaction!" And so do I, his raving mind continued silently. My balls are as aching as they were before I sucked this sweet young mother's virgin ass-hole today, and Fang is waiting down there as well! Damn, this is going to be one fine night once I get them going! I know it!

"Hurry up!" he bellowed frantically, taking his own clothes off in a display of frenzied incontinence, "by hell, I'll rip you both naked if you don't!"

"Nooooo!" whimpered Lonnie, but it was her only defiant gesture. With fingers so distraught that they couldn't unbutton her blouse without intense, frustrating effort, the now nearly mindless wife gritted her teeth, reaffirmed her decision to take the brunt of Zeigler's wantonness, and peeled off her garments for the second time that day. Zeigler commanded that her bra and panties were removed instead of lasciviously allowing her semi-nakedness to distract the gangster; he was already overly aroused, and the customers wouldn't be as appreciative as he would have been – they wanted total nudity.

Lonnie stood in the cold, impersonal room with out anything on and clenched her eyes tightly shut so she wouldn't have to see Sam Zeigler's immense, hard and glistening penis again or his lusting leer at her vibrant, shivering flesh.

"Now," the gangster breathed, "now your daughter. Let me see that tender, sweet little cunt of hers that's just been gangfucked by all those teen-age pricks…" And like a robot hearing a master's command, Lonnie reached out for Jennifer's cherubic body, the miniature twin of her own rich, blossoming, curve of breast and thigh. But her daughter suddenly spoke, the first real words that she'd been able to manage since she'd been shoved into the back of Zeigler's car – and to Lonnie's incredulous, tortured ears, her tone was low and even and bitter with resignation.

"It's all right, Mother," Roger Carmel's young daughter said quietly, "I can take off my clothes by myself."

"Jennifer…" moaned the tottering, nerve-shattered mother. "Jennifer…"

"Don't worry, Mom," Jennifer replied, her voice now losing some of its original calmness, and breaking slightly as she spoke. "I… I know what this, this man wants us to do." The word man was spat out as if it was a more horrible swear word to the young adolescent than any foul, filthy four-letter guttural. "I heard it all in the car, as if I didn't know about this beforehand." She had her blouse off and was unzipping her pants with unsteady but determined little white fingers. "I'm no better than you, Mother, no better at all. Worse, in fact, because I've just let seven boys fuck me over and over… and, and I liked it." Her bluish lips were quivering with remorse and shame, and her eyes mirrored her parent's in that they were welling with the warm liquid of torment and revulsion.

"You poor child," Lonnie consoled, her heart wrenching for her daughter's broken innocence. "This is horrible, horrible."

"Yes, but we have no choice," Jennifer said in a whisper. She slid her pants down, stepping out of them to show her firm, young, lithe legs and thighs. Zeigler gasped at the salaciously exciting build of the girl, and his cock throbbed hard and painful in front of him, but Lonnie's daughter turned to him and curled her lip in disdain. "We've got to do it, Mother, I know it. It would ruin Daddy if we didn't, this horrible man would tell him without a hesitation. I'll go through it with you even if it kills us both."

Through hazed eyes, Lonnie watched her only child slowly roll her already sperm-drenched panties down until the sparse, young triangle of her still moist pubic hair was visible. Then, when the gangster so commanded, mother and daughter climbed on the bed and lay down side by side, and she beheld all of Jennifer's pubescent, slender and curvaceous body, saw that it was as proudly developed as her own, and realized in a blinding flash of respect for her that no longer was she a baby, but a physically complete woman, one who, as the sickening words returned in haunting reverie, could take on seven boys and like it. Jennifer had become a woman in body if not in mind, and could respond to a man with all the passion and sexuality of her gender. And Lonnie Carmel wept again at the tragic way her daughter was being introduced to the world of physical sex.

The depraved Zeigler stood naked with his pulsating cock pointing straight at them by a large switch mounted on the wall, the control which would automatically lower the bed to the full, lasciviously waiting view of a half-hundred patrons below, and fingering the bloated, sperm heavy sac of his testicles with his other hand, he snapped out: "All right, you hot-ass beauties, let's start the action. Mother and daughter night," he grinned callously, "and mother and daughter will start out the performance by playing with one another's pussy."

Lonnie gasped in horror and revulsion at the salacious demand. Not only was he desiring lesbianism, a terrible perversion unto itself, but with Jennifer, her own child! She couldn't! With a face shining with anguish-caused sweat, she regarded her daughter once again, gulped with parched, torture-wracked gasps as she studied Jennifer's trembling breasts with their dark rosettes and hard nipples and then lower, to the hair lined lips of her so recently well-fucked vagina and the dainty pink clitoris nestling in their wet, trembling folds.