Ron Taylor: Stepdaughter in bondage

"I'll tell Ma," I said. "I'll tell her what you did to me."

"She won't believe you," Tony whispered into my ear. His tongue shot out, into my ear, hot on the heels of his whisper. I shivered at the wet sloppy touch of him and I started to slouch. My thigh brushed against the well-filled crotch of his pants, and I started to buck upright again, just about the same time he gave a vicious yank on the hands he had trapped in one big meaty fist, almost wrenching them from their sockets.

He had his hand in my pants by then, feeling me through my undies. I squirmed and twisted, but it seemed that all I did was manage to clamp my thighs together on his fist, trapping it against my pussy.

"No, let go, let go, let goooo!" But he didn't let go. He worked his fist against me, worked it hard and rough, and I felt moisture beginning to coat the inside of my panties. Had he broken something? Was I starting to bleed?

In another moment or two it hit me. My pussy was lubricating, the way it liked to do when I toyed with its furry sweetness. Not this way, I thought. Not for him! Noooo!

He worked his fist from between my legs and started toward my bed. I went with him. My hands trapped in his, the way they were, I couldn't do much else besides go with him. He threw me down upon the bed, releasing my hands, and he put both sets of fingers on the waistband of my jeans. Just as he started to yank them down, I reached up with one foot and kicked him solidly in the nuts.

He straightened up fast! His face went red, then white, then purple and he doubled up in a knot, both hands clutching his offended privates. I heard him shout in a high squeaky voice and it sounded so good I couldn't help laughing out loud. "Get out of here, Goddamn you!" I shouted, tossing toy shoe at him as he staggered toward the door. "And if you ever try it again, you'll get it twice as bad!"

I don't know what excuse he made to Mom when they sacked in for the night, but I know I didn't hear the bedsprings rattling as he plowed her in their room across the hall. Not that night, and not the next, either.

The next night. My heart did a turnover when I thought of it. The last night my mother was alive. God, only twenty-four hours ago she had been alive and laughing, and… and this afternoon, on her way to the regular shift at the plant, she'd gotten plowed off the road by a tractor-trailer. What they'd been able to scrape off the highway was lying in a closed coffin at the mortuary, too messy to be shown to anyone. I had only my memories. I'd never have anything but those memories. Thank God they were good ones! She'd never known what a prick she had married, never known that he considered her nothing more than a cow with a desirable calf – me. I threw myself onto the bed and began to cry. I'd been crying almost all afternoon, ever since they'd called me out of history class to give me the news. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. I don't believe I wanted to stop crying.

There was a pounding at my door. I sat up, startled, and I flipped on the light beside the bed.

"What is it?" I said, sobbing.

"Open up," Tony called, still pounding and rapping.

"Oh, for the love of Christ!" I wept. "Go away and let me alone!"

He'd been drinking, I already knew. I had smelled whiskey on his breath at the funeral home. How much I couldn't tell. He drank a lot, so much that it was a wonder he kept his broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped body. He should have had a three-gallon paunch spilling over his belt, but somehow he didn't.

"Open up!" he said sharply, and this time it sounded as if he were kicking the door as well as pummeling it with his fists. "We have some unfinished business, you little cunt!"

I didn't have time to tell him anything else. He must have leaned his shoulders against the door and leaned them hard, because the door tore loose where I'd locked it and he came staggering into my room. There was a fresh, strong whiskey-reek about him, and I knew without asking that he'd poured himself a fresh jolt or two after parking the car. He stood in the middle of the floor, looking at me, blinking his was trying to adjust them to the dark. Suddenly he found the light switch and the room was flooded with light. I pulled the coven up to my chin and drew back, against the headboard of the bed.

Tony snickered. "What are you hidin' for? I've seen damn near everything you've got. And I'm goin' to see it again. Like, right now!" He grabbed the foot of my coven and yanked viciously, ripping them from my clutching fingers. I screeched and doubled up on the bed, legs pulled all the way up to my chin. All I had on was a short nightie and matching panties. Not until now had I ever realized how thin they were, how they revealed the pink and gold of my body to prying eyes. Prying eyes like my stepfather's.

He made a flying leap, bounded over the foot of the bed, plopped down onto the mattress beside me. One of his arms and one of his legs flopped down across me, pinning me on my back. Tony looked into my face, breathing out enough fumes to get an elephant stoned, and he grabbed my chin, squeezing till my lips puckered out. "Wanna kiss?" he asked. "I need a little kiss. Who's gonna give it to me? You?" And with that he planted his mouth on mine, firmly, savagely, kissing me till I was breathless and aching.

I was pinned like a butterfly onto cardboard, and I struggled the way a butterfly struggles, for all the good it did. Tony's mouth was on mine, and my head was trapped, and his hands roved up and down me, exploring everything I had.

The worst of it was, I couldn't even knee him in the jewels, the way I'd done the other day. No, that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the fact that my mother had been killed by a truck this afternoon and her body was only just starting to cool and the son of a bitch was trying to mount me on my own private bed, as if everything were normal and fine. That was the worst of it.

I heard and felt my nightie being torn, felt my tits popping loose, felt his hands pawing them. I slapped at his fingers and it didn't help. He caught his fingers in the rear he'd already made, ripped it a little harder, and the rest of my nightie was pulled away.

He thrust his hand into the rip and grabbed everything he could grab hold of. My nipples were swollen from terror and his fingers were like steel pliers on them. I squirmed and fought and I tried to slap him and claw him, but I couldn't seem to get hold. Finally he stopped kissing me, lifted his head, and looked down at me. All flushed and excited he was, too, breathing whiskey into my face with every wheezy pant of air that left his mouth. My head began to reel.

"Goddamn you," I said, "don't you have any respect far my mother? She's lying dead right now – you may as well have killed her yourself!"

He cuffed me across the cheeks, a stem, warning cuff. "Shut the fuck up," he said sternly. "Your old lady bought it from a fucking truck, and I didn't have anything to do with it. So what if she's dead? People die every day. What counts, you little pussy is the fact that I've got one of the all time champion hard-ons. It's the first one I've been able to get since you kicked me in the balls the other night. Gimme your hand. Stop fighting, cunt! Feel that? Seven inches of hard meat, and it needs someplace to get its head wet tonight. I don't figure your old lady is gonna be much good from now on, so I guess you're elected. C'mon! Feel it! It's long and it's rock-hard and it needs to be shaved up something tight and wet and sweet. You got anything like that, pussy? Hmmmmm? How about right – here!" He thrust his hand into my crotch.

I screamed and bent almost double, but he kept driving at me with his fingers, driving, pushing, punching – until he'd shoved a finger into me, a finger wrapped in the filmy rayon of sleepwear panties. I guess it was like being fucked with a rubber on. You could feel the hardness but, not the raw flesh itself, stabbing in, stabbing.