“Put your arms down,” he told her.
“Sorry.” Reyna put her hands in her lap and tried to make herself invisible.
“It’s a place outside of town,” he offered after a several miles of silence. “Real secluded.”
A warm chill passed through her as she tried to imagine what that last little remark might mean. Secluded equaled romantic in her mind. Closing her eyes, letting the sun fall on her face through the open roof, Reyna let her imagination run wild. In a few moments, she was asleep.
When she awoke, she found herself lying on a blanket. Jason was at her feet, attaching cuffs to her ankles. She blinked and looked around. They were under a pine tree, in the middle of a meadow.
“It’s called a spreader bar,” Jason explained as she propped herself up on her elbows to watch him secure the long metal rod that would make it impossible for her to close her legs.
“This is freaky,” she decided, wriggling her toes. “Where do you get all this stuff, anyway?”
“From my dad,” he said, rummaging through the black gym bag he’d brought from the car. “He just doesn’t know it.”
Reyna smiled, loving him all the more for his being an outlaw. “But what if someone sees us?” she asked, watching him as he untangled two strips of leather attached to either side of what looked like a blue ping pong ball.
Jason raised her dress, baring her already open cunt. There was a summer breeze and it felt funky. “Nobody ever comes out here,” he said. “My family owns as far as you can see.”
Reyna thought about that, doing her best to see just as far as she could across the totally green and lush landscape. While she was doing this, Jason popped the ball gag in her mouth. Her protests turned to muffled giggles as he buckled the device behind her head. It was too tight to spit out and it tasted like a rancid handball.
Using her eyes, she conveyed displeasure.
He smiled, melting her instantly. “That’s a ball gag,” he explained eagerly, making her realize in many ways he was just a boy at play. She made a mental note, deciding to turn the tables against him one day.
“As long as you don’t fight me, I won’t cuff your hands.” He dangled silver handcuffs in front of her, like she was supposed to be impressed. Tossing them aside, he decided to test her obedience, pushing her down and sliding both straps of her dress down to bare her breasts. She made no move to block him as he massaged her young, firm flesh. The attention made her salivate and she quickly realized there was no swallowing in her current state. Seeing his obvious arousal as he watched her drool against her will, however, more than made up for the discomfort.
“You ready for more?” he asked, diving back into the magic bag like a five year old, this time producing a round rubber paddle. Reyna rolled her eyes. Obviously this was going to be a picnic without any food. He helped her now to turn over so she was on all fours. With the spreader in, she was totally vulnerable and would have no chance of protecting herself.
“If it hurts,” he assured her, “you can bite down on the ball.”
Reyna raised her arm and flipped him her middle finger over her shoulder. He just chuckled as he pulled the dress high up on her back, making sure both her cunt and ass were fully exposed. Stretching her ankles a little, she tested the rigidity of her bonds. At this point her chances of getting away were slim to none. Her choices were to fight, try to hobble away and find civilization, or else just hanker down and enjoy. Feeling the sun on her skin, the air on her heavily aroused body, she opted for the latter.
The first blow was mild, though it brought her languid, cock-seeking body to quick attention. The second blow was harder, making her pitch forward so the material of her dress rubbed over her swollen nipples, engorging them even further. For the third blow he struck her on the left side of her buttocks, while inserting a finger in her sopping pussy.
Reyna’s moan was stifled, captured by the bitter, mouth-encompassing rubber. She wanted so badly to scream, to flail at him, grab his cock and shove it in her, or better yet to do some of this domination shit back to him. How would he like it, she wondered, eating a full meal at a fancy restaurant with a thrumming bastard of a thing inside you, pricking and pummeling you to jelly, so that you’re petrified you’re going to leave a huge pool of come on the seat? How would he like to sip soda from a glass trying to act normal, while the orgasms keep coming. Your date just watching you smugly, knowing you are vastly underdressed, raising every waiter’s eye in shorts and top only—your underwear back in the car over his rear view mirror? Then he makes you eat horrible lobster, and you take it like he owns you. All you can do is say thank you while you wish he’d end your torture and take you somewhere—the back seat, the toilet even—so he can stamp his brand, searing you with his hot throbbing cock.
And it gets worse: No relief, no relief at all as he drops you off, makes you spread for him so he can take out the vibrator. You lick it clean and then he pops it back in the glove compartment. He tells you that you must masturbate for him, at the window, and that he won’t leave till he sees you starting, but you’ll have to keep going after he leaves, for a long time, all night in fact.
Reyna felt sudden peace. Jason had stopped his beating long enough to caress her inflamed buttocks. “Damn, baby. You are so hot,” he said, his voice low and guttural.
She thrust herself up at him, wanting more, anything, just so he wouldn’t leave her, ever. If she could do it right now she would smother him in kisses, covering his feet, his ass, the tip of his cock. Yes, she’d kiss him happily—after first slapping him, that is.
“You want this, don’t you?” he crooned, massaging her clit.
Her hands balled to fists. He was putting a finger in her, but why wasn’t he making love to her? He had to want it as much as she did. He’d been erect last night, all through dinner and when he brought her home, too. But he’d refused to let her blow him, nor would he use her slick and open canal. And he’d been worked up already today before she got in the car; she’d seen it in his khakis.
Jason popped his teasing finger back out and it felt like a cork coming out of a bottle. “That’s enough for now,” he said.
She couldn’t believe it. The bastard was on his feet wiping his hands off on a rag.
“I gotta go,” he said matter of factly. “I’ll be back.”
She looked up at him, her eyes were pools of desperation.
“Don’t move, Reyna. Don’t move at all. Otherwise, when I come back, I’ll know.”
Reyna chewed the words as he got in the Mustang and drove off. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t have just left her, bare assed, trussed up like some freak in the middle of an open field.
Just get up, Reyna, she told herself. You have your hands; you can get those ankle cuffs off. They don’t even lock. Then you can take this damned gag thing out, too. The ball gag was the worst, because she couldn’t stop drooling and now she was covering the green army blanket with a puddle of her own spit.
So what was she waiting for? She didn’t have to stay here. Then again, he’d told her to, and though he hadn’t threatened her, he’d been very stern and hinted strongly he’d be disappointed. Reyna didn’t want that, didn’t want to disappoint Jason. She needed him to get home and for lots more besides. He was the only one who understood her, the only one who took the time with her. That meant something. In fact, it meant everything. Because she loved him, she knew that now. Her staying like this, in perfect submission, abandoning her will to his, her body exposed, aroused, and open for him whenever he returned. Whenever he wanted her, to use her and fill her—this was her sign of devotion, her shouting out to the world, albeit while gagged, that she belonged to him – to Jason X. Her mysterious, Florida, cowboy lover.
Reyna jumped as she heard the loud cracking noise. She looked up from her reverie and saw there was something over in the nearby bushes. Something with eyes. Panicking, she rolled over onto her buttocks. She had to get away. Not taking her eyes off the ruffling branche
s, she reached down to her ankles and opened the buckled cuffs. Leaping to her feet, she tore at the gag, finally managing to dislodge it just as the Mustang pulled up.
“Jason! There’s something out there!” she cried, pointing desperately as he got out of the car.
He looked at her, frowning slightly. His brown eyes seemed clouded. Whatever it was, the car had scared it away. “Get yourself together,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
He was mad. She’d disobeyed him and now he was mad.
“Jason, wait!” She clambered after him, grabbing his arm at the door of the car. He wasn’t listening, wasn’t stopping and so she found herself grabbing the back of his legs, falling to her knees, pleading. Weeping. Begging.
He stood there, like a statue, hand on the door handle for the longest time. Then finally he bent down to take her in his arms. She poured out her soul, told him everything, and in exchange as he held her, softening her tremors with kisses, he said, very softly, “I think I love you, Reyna.”
She pulled him down on top of her fiercely now, wanting him, needing him inside her so bad it hurt. Wrapping her legs round him, clutching, pushing the dress up out of the way, she let him take her, ramrod straight, moving through her rapidly and with passion as only an eighteen year old boy can. And Reyna responded, with all the heat and all the lust that only an eighteen year old girl is capable of giving back. For a long while after she lay beneath him in the dirt, cushioning him with her soft flesh, still spasming as she strained with every fiber to give more, so much more.
***
The movers didn’t arrive until two. Cynthia greeted them barefoot in t-shirt and running shorts. She and Reyna didn’t have much furniture although most of it would still have to go in the garage for now. Reyna’s things—her old bed, her wardrobe, the dresser with Pooh bears on it from when she was little—she had the two men put in the spare room, which would be converted into her daughter’s bedroom.
It was while she was helping them bring floor lamps up the walk that she heard his voice.
“Y’all be careful with those,” Cal told them in his lazy Florida drawl, sounding like a man who expected to be obeyed. It made her mad, because she knew he’d never really worked a day in his life. Yes, their father had always given them plenty to do on the ranch, he and Shep both, but Cal had always seemed to get out of his share, leaving the bulk for his brother. She and Shep used to joke about that during those precious few times they shared with each other all those years ago.
She remembered the night of the Founder’s Day picnic when Shep had taken her behind the Courthouse Square to a little grassy knoll next to Reserve Lake, where they’d laid out on the grass and counted stars. When he’d asked her to make a wish, she kissed him and told him this was it. She knew now it had been love that made her feel that way.
So why did she ever even give Caleb the time of day?
“Hey, darlin’,” Cal tipped his hat, a different one, made of black felt. Today he had on black jeans and a blue shirt. Cynthia forced a smile.
“I wish you hadn’t come back,” she said once the movers were out of hearing range.
He took the opportunity to put his arm round her slender waist. Looking down, he whistled. “You’re barefoot for me again today, huh? You know what that does to me.”
She tried to push him off but the two young moving men were coming back down the walk and she didn’t want to make a scene.
“You boys hustle it up a little,” Cal winked, “and I’ll see to it you get a hundred bucks extra apiece.”
They perked up at once. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison, tipping their caps. “Thank you, sir.”
Cal grinned, squeezing Cynthia’s ribs possessively. “I spare no expense for my friends.”
Cynthia cringed. If she could have done any damage to his silver tipped black leather boots with her unshod feet, she’d have done it by now. “Cal,” she whispered, trying to keep a smile for the admiring young men. “Aren’t you forgetting something you’ve left at home?”
Shooing the ogling movers away, he blew into her ear, gathering her in his arms. “Merry and I have an agreement, hot stuff. She gives me the space I need to breathe and I keep her in designer shoes.” He nuzzled her earlobe, making mincemeat of her resolution to resist him. “And what I’m smelling on you, sugar, I can breathe just fine.”
Cynthia cursed herself for having used that perfume on herself. It had been something of Auntie’s, from long ago, a lilac scent that reminded her of the woman’s kind embraces, her patient eyes and the way she’d held Cynthia close and kept apologizing for coming into her life so late, only after her mother’s death.
“Baby,” she’d told her over and over, “if only I knew my brother, Bobby, had a little girl, I’d have helped you and your Momma. Thomas and me both. Lord knows, your Daddy is a worthless slug.” Then she’d just sigh, her ample bosom jiggling. “Well at least we have each other now,” she’d always conclude, following it up with a great big hug.
It had been her mother who finally contacted Marianne Marshall, when she knew she didn’t have long to live. It was a decision Cynthia was very grateful for. She couldn’t imagine how much worse things could have gone for her without her aunt.
“Cal, stop it.”
He was running his hands over her, testing her readiness and leaving little doubts in the minds of the nearby movers that she was his lover. Putting his leg between hers and drawing her close, he said, “Maybe I should give those boys another kind of tip. Would you like that, honey—a chance to show off that prize body of yours?”
She squirmed, trying to turn her head and break free. His hands were up under her shirt and he had already discovered she was without a bra. “Cal, stop it! They’ll see us!”
Caleb grabbed her shoulders, forced her to her knees, right there on the sidewalk. “Why? You know you love it,” he challenged, pressing her head against his swollen crotch. Her mouth went dry. He wouldn’t dare. He couldn’t—not here.
There was an awkward clearing of throats and Cynthia realized to her horror that the movers were behind her, obviously needing her attention. Cal let her turn around, but he kept his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t rise.
“What can we do you for, gentlemen?” Cal inquired.
The one had his mouth open in shock. The other blurted. “Everything’s all moved in, sir.” Cal dug for his wallet, peeled out two hundreds from a thick wad.
“Good job.” He tucked one in the palm of each, and then he said what Cynthia had been most afraid of. Inclining his head to get them closer, he said, “How would you boys like a freebee? She’s already down there, if you know what I mean.”
They looked at Cynthia with new eyes, clearly identifying her as something less than a lady. She felt the shame spread across her face and down her neck and chest. They hesitated at first, and for a few agonizing moments Cynthia thought she might actually have to service them both.
Finally the taller one, clearly the leader, nudged the other. “Nah, we gotta get going.”
They moved off hastily, but Cal called them back when he noticed the swing set pieces on the driveway. “Hey, y’all gonna put that up?”
“No, Cal. I don’t want it up. That was Reyna’s,” Cynthia protested. “I haven’t sold it yet, that’s all.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.” Reaching for his wallet he pulled out two more hundreds, waving them enticingly. “This is yours if you put that thing up in the backyard.”
They looked at each other, shrugged and started picking up pieces of colored metal tubing.
“Cal, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, as he hustled her off to the garage, putting her back on her knees in front of the open doorway.
“I got plans for that swing set, baby,” he informed her, unzipping himself and taking out his cock for her. Despite her revulsion, Cynthia took her place on his organ, carefully heeding his warnings to go slow.
“It’s been too long,” he lam
ented, sliding himself to that place he loved best, at the back of her throat. “I must have been crazy wanting to share this,” he laughed, tousling her hair.
Cynthia closed her eyes, letting old reflexes take over. Reaching out to hold his buttocks in her hands, she realized she never had been able to get enough of this man, and the worse he’d treated her, the more devoted she’d been.
***
It had been that way from the beginning. From the night he’d caught up to her, running, scared, confused, hurt—and aroused—seeking desperately to get away from Meredith Frisk’s house, her dress torn and stained. She could have waited for the cab Meredith had called for her, but she chose instead to run, as fast as she could, blindly into the night.
Caleb had a Trans Am back then, black with a gold eagle on the hood. He’d pulled alongside her, hopping out to let her fall into his arms in tears. Wrapping her in his coat, holding her shaking, half-clothed body, he gave her comfort. She knew she would never have made it home the ten miles if he hadn’t stopped. What she didn’t know was that it was no accident he was out that night.
For the next hour she sat beside him in the car, off to the side of the road, telling him the whole story as he played Abracadabra from his Steve Miller tape. She’d never even met Cal Trace and she had no idea that he’d found out Meredith’s plan and had been waiting out here for her all night, determined to steal her from his goody two shoes brother.
Under the influence of the whisky from Cal’s silver flask, she bared her soul, not to mention her body. He showed great sympathy and he was talking to her so sweetly about how hot she was and how she turned him on that she couldn’t refuse him anything. She’d felt so disgraced by this point, so cheapened, that she was sure no man would ever want her again. Imagine, then, how easily she was made to yield to the smooth talking Caleb Trace.
He had her face down over the hood of the car, her arms spread over the eagle, her very sore, very used cunt aching with need, responding to him, despite all she’d been through. He came like a rabbit, the way he always did, and she found little relief. Pressing her tits to the car, she eventually tried to hump the grill.
Backwater Bondage Page 5