Backwater Bondage

by Reese Gabriel

  “A crack whore,” Kimmy corrected. “That’s a joke,” she informed Reyna, grabbing one of the clamps. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

  Reyna cried out in misery, forcing Jason to come up from behind and cover her mouth with his hand. She leaned against him pitifully, and he held her, just for a few seconds, but he did it so tenderly she wanted to cry.

  “Ooh, look at this!” Missy had left the dildo in Reyna’s cunt and gone to the bag, pulling out a gag with a penis shaped insert. “Can we use this on her, too?”

  “Sure,” Jason agreed.

  Reyna didn’t want a pseudo cock in her mouth right now, she wanted a real one: his. But she was in no position to refuse as the girls came up and pried her teeth open. Not missing a beat, they let her know how appropriate it was for her to be practicing her cock sucking this way.

  “Comes in handy for crack whores,” Missy pointed out, as they secured the straps behind her head.

  Reyna’s eyes burned blue holes through their shallow hides. Like these two knew the first thing about her and could judge where her life was going. She’d known rich bitches like these, and she knew firsthand what they were all about. Odds are they would be the ones sucking dick to keep themselves in furs and diamonds.

  “What’s the matter, slave?” Kimmy demanded, having come up with another dildo, even bigger, which she shoved to the hilt. “Cock got your tongue?”

  Reyna’s eyes went wide. Not breaking eye contact, she let the spoiled girl see the depths of her pain. One day they’d suffer, too. As for rough sex, hell, even Miss High and Mighty Safe Sex Lecture Herself, Cynthia Marshall, had come round to the dark side, so why not this little twit?

  Reyna had to stretch herself up on her toes to accommodate the wide base of the thing invading her cunt. Meanwhile, her mouth was wrapping round the hard plastic insert. Orgasms were coming now, in waves, tiny and large, alternating. They ridiculed her all the more for it.

  When they’d had enough fun with her cunt, they went to work on her ass. Quickly they discovered it could take in a substantial part of the smaller dildo. Reyna attributed this to the extreme relaxation that was coming with her utter submission. They took turns, front and back, one working the ass, the other tweaking the depending nipple clamps while manipulating the larger dildo.

  Reyna was transported to the beyond by the time Jason lowered her arms signaling a new chapter of the game. He was there to catch her as her rubbery legs regained the full weight of her torso. Jason held her lovingly, almost doting on her as he took off the gag and helped her to her knees, getting her into a position of sufficient abasement with her legs spread wide. The constant thrum of the nipple clamps had begun to fade into the background. Blatantly, she thrust out her tits for the girls’ inspection. Jason tapped her with the whip, reminding her to keep her head down. Gracefully, smoothly, she obeyed.

  “What a slut,” Kimmy said.

  “What a whore,” Missy agreed.

  Reyna just smiled. Didn’t these haughty girls realize she belonged to him and not them? Didn’t they know submitting to him was a high—something she was proud of? Or maybe they did know it after all, but were denying it out of jealousy?

  “Reyna, wouldn’t you like to lick the Mistresses’ pussies?” Jason suggested.

  A charge shot through her nether region. “Yes, Master.”

  “You’re not serious?” Kimmy cried.

  “Slave,” Jason prodded, “beg the Mistresses to allow you to service them.”

  Reyna crawled forward, chafing her knees on the floor as she went. Jason stopped her after a short while, cracking the whip on her fire eaten back. She marveled at his aim, his rapidly growing technique.

  “On your belly, Reyna,” he corrected. “Crawl to them on your stomach.” Then to the girls he added, “And don’t make it so easy for her; stand further back.”

  More giggling followed as their painted toes scooted back another ten hellish, agonizing feet. Reyna breathed deep, resuming her journey. Torturous. Slow. A clothed, walking person could not begin to understand the feel of even the smoothest of concrete on unprotected skin, brazing one’s pussy lips, stomach and metal bitten breasts.

  “Move your ass, slut!” Missy called out. At that moment, Reyna wanted to throttle them, though she knew that wasn’t fair, since she’d more or less manipulated them, and Jason too, into doing these things to her. But life wasn’t ever fair, was it? Was it fair to have a psycho mother and a drunkard father, having to raise yourself most of the time?

  “She can’t go faster,” she heard Kimmy say, somewhere above her world which consisted at the moment of a dirty floor in her face. “You know how slow fat girls are.”

  Reyna’s spine stiffened. There was no call for that. Just because she had a body with some curves to it and needed more than a size freaking zero was no reason to attack her. “It’s called sex appeal,” she croaked, lifting her head from the floor. “Something you toothpicks wouldn’t understand.”

  Jason reacted quickly, once again showing he’d taken Reyna at her word when she told him to be merciless. The whip struck twice, stealing from her the little strength she had left. Collapsing utterly, she groaned out her misery.

  “Now you can play with yourself, slave,” he commanded. “Until you prove yourself worthy to lick feet and pussy.”

  Reyna shoved a hand down into herself. It was getting so intense. Her own finger motion was pushing her over the edge. But Jason was ready for this, too, as he pulled her hands behind her back, cuffing them. Deprived of pleasure, she lay prostrate, reduced to an object of utter contempt.

  Forced to slither the last few feet, Reyna reached the girls. They were standing side by side. She couldn’t see, but they probably had their arms around each other like little princesses as they let Reyna bathe their toes with her parched tongue. Their feet really did smell and she could only imagine how much worse their cunts would be.

  “A little more feeling behind it, okay?” Jason coached, squatting beside her to insert a finger up her ass. Reyna arched her back and sucked Missy’s big toe with fervor. She wanted so badly for him to go in her other hole, which needed him more than he could ever know. Even without the contact, she was already spasming, giving in to the most mind-blowing orgasm of her young sexual life.

  Jason let her finish, then released her from the handcuffs. “Time to drop your drawers, kids,” he said to the girls as he rose to his feet.

  The girls hemmed and hawed at Jason’s command, once more showing they were little babies who knew nothing of a man’s power.

  “But, like, what if someone comes in?” Missy protested.

  Even Kimmy thought that was stupid. “Duh, Missy! This is Trace property—as in Jason Trace. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Missy agreed. “Anyway, even if they do, she’s the one who looks like a slut, not us.”

  Reyna was still back on the Trace part. That name sounded real familiar. It hadn’t occurred to her when she was talking to Jason’s mother, but hadn’t Cynthia told her once during one of their pathetic mother-daughter talks that her first love was named Trace? Could it be a relative?

  “You can get on your knees, slave.”

  Reyna complied, feeling like the bottom of someone’s shoe as she stretched her weary muscles. Naked, covered in dirt, covered in sweat, ugly red marks visible across her upper thighs from the whip, she felt like raw meat.

  “Hold still,” Jason whispered to her. He was touching her back. She wanted to leap to the corrugated steel ceiling with the shock of his cold moist hand on her burning skin. Quickly, however, it gave way to a wave of warm pleasure as she realized he was rubbing in some kind of ointment.

  He came round front of her now, squatting down, blocking the girls’ view of her. “You okay?”

  She smiled for him, weak but real. “Yea, I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

  “That stuff is some kind of medicine,” he explained, too softly for the girls to hear. “I found it in the bag with my dad’s stu
ff.”

  “Your dad’s pretty resourceful,” she winced, as a fresh wave of pain passed through her nipples.

  Jason released the clamps in rapid succession. “Actually my dad’s a real bastard,” he grinned, eyebrows cocked. “If he knew I took all this stuff, he’d kick my ass.”

  Reyna tried to smile back, then felt herself falling forward, woozy, following the sound of his voice, wanting nothing more than to be held, soothed and loved. Protecting her, capturing her, Jason encircled her in his arms. Hesitant at first, she felt him relax, like maybe he needed this too.

  “Why don’t you two get a room,” Missy snarled.

  Kimmy could be heard slapping her arm. “This is a room, idiot.”

  Jason winked at Reyna. “Act two,” he said just for her. “Showtime.”

  Stepping behind her, he took her hair in his hand, arching her back. As he did so she got a good look at the girls in their underwear. Junior Miss all the way. She couldn’t actually see, but they probably had puppies and bunnies on the waistbands.

  “Reyna, take down their panties with your teeth,” Jason instructed. “Then eat them both out. I want you to alternate, serving them both equally.”

  Actually, the girls’ bodies weren’t bad. Missy had nice hips and luscious little labia lips. Her mound was covered in fine fleece, very short. As for Kimmy, she had a wonderful abdomen and good legs. Serving them was anything but a turnoff, but it was a challenge. Without her hands, Reyna was limited to servile licking and rubbing. She couldn’t even wipe the accumulated juice from off of her face.

  Missy was all sighs and whispers, melting under the heated contact. Kimmy was more aggressive, clamping her athletic thighs on the side of Reyna’s head and actively fucking her face. The whole time Kimmy’s mouth exploded trash, too, which was hilarious coming from the little priss. They were such ditzes, the two of them. Reyna had serious doubt as to whether either of them had ever even orgasmed before, let alone participated in a gang-bang.

  “Oh, God,” Kimmy wailed, her voice up two octaves, her hips bucking like she had a bronco under her. “Do me, you slut, you stinking sluuuuut.” She said the words over and over, as she twined her manicured fingers tightly in Reyna’s matted hair. After she’d climaxed, Kimmy shoved her down to the ground and just stood over her, lording her private afterglow.

  “I want another turn,” Missy announced, her hand still plunged deep between her thighs where it had been for the last half an hour.

  “No,” Jason countered. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “Oh, good,” squealed Kimmy. “Give it to her rough, okay?”

  “Yea, do her like she deserves,” Missy hissed.

  Ignoring the two of them, Jason knelt down beside Reyna. Taking the corner of his own shirt, he gently wiped off her lips for her. Reyna kept them parted even after he was done. Parted for his use and his alone. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, the way they sometimes did when something happened that was so overwhelming, so good, she had to let it out, freeing it before it dissipated on its own.

  Jason fell onto her lips with his mouth now, proving once again they were a perfect fit. In a single sweeping gesture, he lifted her bodily into his arms, carrying her lovingly to the single mattress. Swelling with pride and desire, she let herself settle onto the stained fabric. He was going to take her again.

  Happily, joyfully she let her glowing, naked body become his cushion as he followed her down, pressing himself on top of her hungrily. The feel of his clothes against her, hinting at the strength of his muscle, the sexy smoothness of his skin was almost more than she could bear after her ordeal. It was enough for her to orgasm all over again. Before he could even enter her, her body was screaming the truth; she belonged to this man, to Jason Trace, the only man to whom she could ever give herself again.

  “What a slut,” Missy was heard to mutter.

  “Come on, Missy,” Kimmy said, “let’s leave the little whore to her sleazy fun. It certainly is the only kind of action she’ll ever see.”

  “Really,” Missy echoed spitefully.

  Reyna couldn’t help but look up to catch a glimpse of them as the door slid open. She felt so good, so female under her man and it was so clear they were jealous. She made out little more than their retreating bony asses as they scampered out of sight.

  “Call me sometime, okay, Jason?” she heard Kimmy say, as the steel door lowered back in place.

  He won’t call you, bitch, she thought, just like he won’t fuck you today - either of you.

  Jason never bothered to answer them and by the time Kimmy’s voice had faded away, he was undressed and inside Reyna, gripping and tugging at her. He came almost at once. He was so aroused it made Reyna want to cry. Deprived of her hands, she used every inch of her to love him and please him: tongue, breasts, hips and belly. She erupted along with him, having lost track by now of the climaxes.

  Lying on his side afterward, the lights off, spooned behind her, Jason told Reyna all the things she longed to hear: how beautiful she was and how hot, and how he loved her tattoo snake, Blackie. Not that she thought she really was beautiful, but it meant he wanted her and that was enough.

  Enough for her to crawl on top and push his hands out of the way for a change. He was already hard again and she slid the length of his gorgeous cock into her hungry hole. She rode him to show her thanks, her love, and her admiration. No one had ever done things like this for her, or to her.

  It almost made it worthwhile having to deal with her little bondage slut of a mother, who was obviously caught up in some second childhood. Reyna licked her lips, ran her fingers over her tender breasts, giving herself pleasure and soothing them at the same time. She was a woman now, taking her man, and at this moment nothing else mattered. Not money or class or his being ‘out of her league’ as the girls had snidely told her while taking turns plowing her with the dildo. Like they knew anything about class. Or love, for that matter.

  Reyna Trace. There she’d said it, at least in her head. It was a stupid little girl game, trying on boys’ names, writing them down on your binders to fill the empty hours of dull classes, but there was a ring to this one, nonetheless.

  Reyna heard her man groan and reshuffled her attention to his physical needs, bearing down, placing her hands on his magnificent chest. She tensed, readying herself for orgasm. This would be the best. The best yet. A hair’s breathe closer and . . .

  Reyna stiffened at the sound of metal. The sickening sound of corrugated steel rolling. The door was opening again. There was a car engine outside, too. Instinctively, Jason rolled her over to protect her. It wasn’t the girls again, and they both knew it. The lights streaming in were headlights, powerful halogen ones. Reyna shielded her eyes as she clutched at Jason’s rapidly beating chest.

  There was a woman in the doorway. The overhead fluorescents kicked on and Reyna could see she was blonde, in high heels, tight skirt and white blouse. Her hair was up. She looked to be Cynthia’s age, pretty, but also furious, her hands on her hips, eyes fierce and icy blue.

  “Mom,” she heard Jason say, as though pronouncing a death sentence on them both. “What are you doing here?”

  The woman Reyna now knew to be Meredith Trace, the one from the phone earlier, narrowed her gaze. “I own this place, remember? Now how about you telling me who the little tart is and what she’s doing here?”

  Jason scrambled to find his shirt, which he gave to Reyna to cover herself with. “It’s my business, not yours. I’m eighteen now, Mom. Why are you still doing this to me?”

  Reyna stood up, deciding to meet the pointing finger head-on. “I’m Reyna Marshall,” she declared. “And I’m eighteen, too. So there’s nothing you can do to me either.”

  Meredith’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Did you say Marshall? You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Cynthia Marshall, would you?”

  “She’s my mother.”

  Meredith’s expression moved rapidly from one of disbelief to amusement, then glee. “Oh, t
his is too good to be true,” she cried, giving way to shrill laughter. “Sin Marshall has a daughter! And look at you. You take right after her, don’t you?”

  Reyna stood proudly, making no attempt to conceal her well-loved body beneath the open shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady, but if you don’t leave us alone, I’m calling the cops.”

  Jason was on his feet now, too. “Mom, I . . .”

  “That’s enough out of you, young man,” Meredith cut him off. “You get your clothes on and you get out of here right this instant. As for you, young lady, I’m taking you home to Sin—I mean to your mother.”

  Reyna let fly an invective as she tucked herself under Jason’s strong arm. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you psycho bitch.”

  “Mom, you’d better go yourself,” Jason told her, drawing strength from Reyna’s closeness.

  Meredith’s face twitched in fury. Heels clicking, she crossed the room, slapped him crisply across the cheek.

  “Now!” she told her son, pointing to the door. “Go. And don’t come back!”

  Jason hesitated, looking back and forth between the two women.

  “It’s okay,” Reyna told him. And somehow she knew it would be, though at the moment, it didn’t seem like it.

  “That’s enough out of you,” Meredith silenced her. “You just worry about getting your own clothes on. You did wear clothes, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said numbly, wondering what her mother would make of all this when she got home. “I did.”

  Chapter Five

  Cynthia had run out of tears long before the knock on the door. A psychologist might have said she’d bottomed out, but personally she considered it crash landing. And after a crash the only thing you can do is get up, take stock and go on. Maybe it had come from being humiliated in front of her own child, this new found sense of calm, or maybe it was just the effect of having finally come to terms with being pushed around her whole life. But whatever it was, it meant that when the knock came, just after midnight, Cynthia Marshall was ready. Prepared. Without even knowing what was coming or who would be there on the other side.