Ron Taylor - Stepdaughter in bondage

Lam frowned, once she'd heard the dirty details. "Jack could probably get you off," she mused. "Oh, Jack could certainly get you off, but I mean in his professional capacity. Still – are you sure you killed him? Could you have been mistaken? I mean, it sounds as if you batted him and then ran like hell. Did you check his pulse, his vital signs? Maybe it's nothing worse than assault and battery."

I didn't think so, and I assured her. She frowned again. "What's your home phone number, Rebecca?" She slid off the bed and went to her nightstand. There was a small pink phone on it, which I hadn't noticed because it didn't seem important. But when she picked up the receiver, it seemed that that telephone was the entire, total center and focus of my existence. Her finger poised above the push-button dial. "NO, I can't tell you…"

She gave me a penetrating look. I shrank under her glare. She held the receiver to her ear. "Area Code 614," I began.

Lam dialed, and I could hear the little musical tones as the number was registered at the Bell offices. I could even hear the ring as the phone in our house buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, but nobody would ever answer it, except maybe the police, and… "Hello?" Lara said. "One moment, please." Just like a long distance operator. She held the phone to my ear.

"What the hell is it?" vibrated into my eardrum.

"Tony?" I said, frozen with astonishment.

"Goddamn you," he snarled, "what the hell did you hit me with? My head is killing me and I think I got a concussion and I'm gonna have a scar. Where the fuck are you calling from, you little cunt? I'm gonna put some scars on your cute little ass, Becky baby, some real scam!"

I shook my head, and the blood had all run out of my face. Lara took the phone, put it to her ear, listening a moment. I guess Tony was still yammering on about what he'd do once he got his hands on me.

"Listen," she said sharply, "why don't you go take a flying fuck at your asshole, you asshole!" And she slammed down the phone. Hard.

"Well," she went on, hands on her hips. "He seems to be in good health, if not in great spirits. So – you can stay for dinner, then? Jack will be home in an hour or so, plenty of time to broil steaks, bake some potatoes." She reached into the ajar cabinet drawer, brought out a key. It was the key to my handcuffs. She unlocked them, releasing my hand. I sat up, rubbing my chafed wrist, trying to convince myself that I hurt.

"Do you make a good salad?" she asked, untying the leather thong from the foot post. "Jack loves salad, but I just don't have the knack for blending vegetables. Maybe you can work on the salad while I take care of the steaks. The two of us ought to be able to…"

She kept talking but I found it hard to believe what I'd already heard her say, let alone anything else she might add. Hp husband? God, I'd seen her big gold wedding band as soon as I got into the car with her, but it had slipped my mind completely during what had followed. Who was thinking of husbands when Lara was kissing, touching me, tying me to the bed, ravishing me totally? Ten minutes ago she'd been coming in my mouth, and now she was talking about dinner and the importance of having a good meal ready for her husband when he got home from work. I tensed up into a tight little ball of worried girl. Had I gone from horrors to the crazies?

It was amazing how good I felt, once Lara and I were in the kitchen bustling about. And I really was pretty good with salads, so I threw myself into the making of that one. She looked over my shoulder every now and then, admired the progress, gave me a little nip on the neck just to remind me she was there, thinking about me. If it hadn't been for that, I might almost have been able to forget that we'd spent the best part of the afternoon in bed together. She was chipper and efficient, a model housewife, and she looked gorgeous in a fresh, expensive silk shirt and slacks combination that really showed off her slender, attractive figure. She might have stepped out of a magazine fashion pictorial.

As for me, Lara had insisted that I pick something from her wardrobe. My first choice, and she agreed enthusiastically, was a cream-colored dress, simple-lined but just a little slinky too. It felt expensive, and it fit almost perfectly, with a couple of exceptions. The hemline was about an inch shorter than I usually wore my dresses and the bodice fit rather tightly, as if should have, since Lara's tits were smaller than mine.

"Can you breathe?" she asked, stroking my boobs. I nodded. "Then it's perfect." Her finger touched the impression of a stiff nipple in the clingy fabric. I was only wearing panties under the dress, since I didn't have a bra and Lara's were too small. "Mmmm," she said, pushing as if my nipple were a button control. "More than perfect. And I know Jack will like it too."

That worried me. Jack, I mean. How could I sit at the table with her husband and talk and chat freely, when I'd spent the afternoon eating and being eaten by his wife? I just knew I'd lose my composure and get flustered and blush all the time. Didn't Lara have any shame at all? Maybe this had happened before. Maybe she had a whole secret daytime life and it had become second nature to her, something she could conceal without effort. For myself, I didn't know if I could handle it, and I was still wondering when Lara lifted her head and said, "There, that's him. Right on time."

She went out to meet her husband and led him into the kitchen. "Darling," she said, "this is Rebecca Lee Butler, a charming young woman I met today. She's had same misfortunes, which we can talk about after dinner, since you might be able to help, but she's a delightful person. I'm sure you're going to like her as much as I do."

"Hello, Rebecca," Jack said, offering his hand.

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but he was a very pleasant man and when he shook my hand and smiled gravely but sincerely, I brightened up all over. He was nice, I thought, and I wondered how Lara could possibly feel the urge to go after women when she had him around. Could he be a dud in the bedroom? He didn't look like one, and she kissed him in front of me, kissed him with shameless passion which he reciprocated totally.

Jack was about five-nine, not awfully tall for a man, but he was the neatest package in his size I'd ever seen. Nicely-tailored suit and vest – he looked like an attorney, which I knew he was. Attractive but not pretty face, hair thinning, a little on top, and a body that struck me as almost perfect, neither muscle-bound nor skinny. He must exercise a lot, I thought. I guess he was in his late thirties. Jack was charming, and he seemed to radiate an aura that rippled onto me and made me feel very good just to be around him. Maybe, I thought, maybe I won't be so flustered and embarrassed after all.

We had dinner, and afterwards we went into the den for coffee. I brought in the tray, set it down on Jack's desk. Lara closed the door and came up slowly behind me, speaking in a soft voice. "Jack, darling," she was saying, "I hope you like Rebecca as much as I do." He was sitting behind his desk, lounging back in his chair, and I saw him nod, just as Lara put her hand on my shoulder. His eyes lifted, focused on mine for a moment, then began to drop very slowly downward, as if he were studying me from head to toe. In a moment I realized that he was, and that his eyes seemed to be spending a lot of time staring at my breasts, which looked fuller, than usual because of the tight bodice of this borrowed dinner dress.

My face began to redden a little, and it was just about that moment when Lara grabbed my arms from behind and pulled me back, till I was bent like a bow, my head resting on her shoulder.

"Hey!" I said. "What are you doing?" She tightened her grip on my arms and I cried.