CHAPTER 1
Revulsion, anger and predominantly fear churned within Cathy as she parked her new BMW
outside the rather run down ‘semi’ in a less well off area of town. The thought flashed
through her mind that she hoped it would still have the appropriate number of wheels when
she returned; that would be the final straw. She pondered briefly that there seemed to
have been so many ‘final’ straws in her life recently – yet fate always seemed to have
another one waiting in the wings which she had to somehow endure.
She tried to give a brave smile to her daughter, Laura, sitting tensely upright beside
her, managing to stem the bubble of anger within her belly which threatened to explode.
She dearly wished that the youngster wasn’t involved in all this too - but she was. And
for the hundredth time she assured herself that there wasn’t a damn thing she could do
about it which didn’t involve even more suffering.
“Let’s go, sweetie.” She tried to sound reassuring for her daughter’s sake as she
climbed from the car. It wasn’t easy to get herself onto the cracked pavement whilst
maintaining some modesty in the short, low cut, expensive black dress. It clung to her
curves, emphasising them and would probably not have suited many other women in their
thirties. However, Cathy was beautiful, and knew it. Her weekly sessions in the gym
ensured she kept her lovely sleek and firm figure. She, therefore, felt at home in such a
dress perhaps when hosting a party for one of her equally rich friends, yet knew it looked
almost out of place in this neighbourhood. The early winter air was also chill around her
legs but she also knew the bastards inside demanded they wore such attire and would expect
nothing less.
She similarly cringed as Laura was also forced to flash a large expanse of toned thigh
until she smoothed down her tiny white min-skirt. Cathy’s heart went out to the pretty
eighteen–year-old as she automatically brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder and
away from her strained, white face. Her young breasts thrust enticingly through the tight
pink jumper, which left her midriff bare. If only her devil-may-care daughter hadn’t
insisted in being involved in scheme which had got them into this mess.
Owap!
The car‘s alarm setting gave its familiar screech; she almost imagined it saying
‘goodbye and good luck’ as she turned towards the peeling paint on the house of her
destination. That car was a symbol of her normal life of wealth, power and influence, a
life that was on hold and temporarily exchanged for something very different within the
shabby walls of the house in front of her.
Clacking up the concrete path in her expensive high-heel shoes, stepping over the tufts
of grass, she imagined curtains twitching back in the other houses, curious faces
wondering why these two elegant-looking women called so regularly on their neighbour. So
did Cathy, the urge to grab Laura and run was almost overwhelming but she controlled it.
Control, yes that’s what she had to exercise yet again and that’s what this was all about
she reminded herself. Control over her, Laura and her husband or, like her husband, they
would face the awful consequences of their stupidity. How she longed for her husband to be
beside her, help her, to draw on his strength; but that wasn’t possible. He was paying the
price in maybe a worse way for all of their stupidity.
Bing bong! Bing Bong! Bing Bong!
Three times she rang, the door chimes grating on her nerves. During earlier sessions
such a silence had made her clutch at hope. Maybe the house was empty? Thinking they could
perhaps push the money through the letterbox and both escape with their dignity intact,
they had once started back down the drive - only to be summoned by a finger beckoning from
the finally opened door. Now she knew that the act of keeping them waiting outside like
naughty schoolgirls was all part of the devilish torment assigned them by the creep
within.
A full minute went by after her last ring before the catch clicked.
“Do come in, girls.”
How she hated that sarcastic, slimy voice as, licking dry lips, she stepped within the
gloom with Laura behind her, the stale and greasy smell of cooking permeating the air.
“Huh,” she jerked, never fully being able to acclimatise herself to the creep giving her
bottom one of his familiar and demeaning slaps. As if they were lovers, or she was his
pet, the hand cupped and revoltingly squeezed her firm buttocks with complete possession,
fleshy lips pressing against her mouth. Cathy heard a similar slap and gasp from Laura
before the door closed, guessing that such public acts served to enhance the creep’s
reputation amongst any watching neighbours.
“You have this week’s cash?” the voice was like treacle.
“Yes, yes s-Sir,” she whispered, clutching her handbag more tightly.
“Good, well I’m gonna’ have a piss, get yourselves in there and say hello to Mum for a
moment.” The offensive hand on each of their undulating bottoms pushed them into a
cluttered lounge.
“Hello, my dears, I’ve just brewed up tea.” A huge woman in her seventies with a beaming
chubby face greeted them.
“Oh, it’s OK Ma’am we don’t ?”
“Nonsense, of course you do, now don’t offend my hospitality.” The voice had a slight
edge, the eyes narrowing imperceptibly.
“Thank you,” whispered Cathy feeling sick at both the thought of the brew which she had
the misfortune to experience before and the grovelling reverence with which she had to
address the old slag, or indeed anyone to do with her tormentor.
“Get them some tea then,” the woman snapped at a sullen looking teenage boy with a
shaven head who was trying to watch football on the television.
“All right, Gran,” he glared at the two beauties before pushing into the kitchen.
“Boys!” tutted the fat woman, raising her eyebrows. “Come and sit down here either side
of me.” She patted the settee. “You are both well, I trust?”
Cathy didn’t know whether the woman was suffering from memory loss or old age and
perhaps genuinely didn’t know the coercion and torments inflicted on them. More likely,
she guessed, the old cow enjoyed a similar sadism to her son and the others in the family
and this was all part of the ‘game’. It reminded her of films where, on a dark night in
the middle of nowhere after a car breakdown, screaming youngsters might find themselves at
the mercy of a weird family of American hillbillies or something.
However, she knew that screaming wouldn’t help her and that within this house she must
forget everything except that she and her daughter were virtual slaves to the people
within and that her suffering would increase if she didn’t show respect. Grovelling didn’t
come naturally to either her or Laura but both knew the terrible consequences of the power
the bastards had over them.
The whole family was so slimy and Cathy knew they didn’t give a shit about her or Laura
so long as they brought the money and were suitably servile. And when she had once used
flu as an excuse for missing an appointment, she simply had to report twice the following
week. What was the point of evasion? The swine would have their pound of flesh anyway one
way or another.
“Yes thank you, Ma’am,” she finally responded, interrupting her musing when her
tormentor’s raised eyebrows signalled that a reply to her rhetorical question and
naturally an utterly respectful one, was necessary. “And you?” she enquired meekly, trying
to curry favour but vainly hoping that she would hear that the woman’s obnoxious son was
maybe having heart attack symptoms.
“Oh mustn’t grumble, you know,” the woman rumbled. “But you two had better watch your
step,” she advised, making Cathy look up at her fearfully, wondering what was coming now.
“It’s bad for your circulation crossing your legs. Open them a bit,” she looked at her two
‘guests,’ placing a podgy hand high up on each of their thighs.
Initially Cathy felt relieved that they hadn’t stepped out of line but then became
revolted by the fingers disgustingly, unnaturally close to her intimacies. Obediently she
and Laura uncrossed and parted their legs a little. She saw the fingers like fat slugs
lying across her daughter’s shapely thighs stroking familiarly over her silken flesh.
The teenage lad returned, handing them each a chipped, greasy mug of dark brown tea. His
small black eyes glinted at the display they were forced to give him.
“Nice legs,” he whistled, giggling.
“Don’t be so rude to my guests, young man,” the woman light-heartedly scolded before
turning to Cathy. “Drink it all up now, it will fill you young things out a bit – I’m sure
you need it.” She chuckled, patting Cathy’s and Laura’s flat bellies before her hand
dropped back to their thighs, easing them slightly wider apart. “I’m sure you’ve nothing
we haven’t seen before.”
The ‘tea’ was revolting, lukewarm and stodgy, making Cathy feel sick as she tentatively
sipped, seeing the similar look of disguised distaste on Laura’s pretty, heart-shaped
face.
Now it was worse. Not only did they have to control their sickness as they drank the
revolting brew they also had to contend with the lad’s cruel, amused eyes drinking in
their discomfort and their charms. Cathy saw him lick his lips, his eyes continually drawn
to his grandmother’s hands resting casually on their long legs. Both of them longed, but
didn’t dare, to tear them away and modestly close their thighs.
Laura was blushing crimson. She was aware that the boy, now losing interest in his
Sunday-afternoon football, could see the delicate pink v of her panties below her short
skirt. He was a couple of years younger than her and obviously thought Christmas had come
early. Never could he normally expect to see two such lovely creatures having to display
themselves so openly and helplessly before him. Yet they all knew that nothing in this
house was ‘normal.’
“There you are, up you get, let’s check this week’s payment.” Their tormentor’s voice
boomed from the doorway.
“Quick, finish your drinks – you know they’re good for you,” his mother chuckled,
setting her chins wobbling.
Trying again to disguise her grimace, Cathy took a deep breath, gulping down the thick,
tepid contents of the cup. Although hating to be again in the presence of the creepy man,
she was grateful to escape the boy’s hot gaze and his grandmother’s unnatural touch.
Gratefully she put down the sickening brew, luckily before she yelped and involuntarily
jumped as his father’s hand crudely pinched a cheek of her bottom. She heard the boy’s
snigger as the creep’s hand again cupped each of their flexing globes as he guided them
out.
“That’s good. I always feel better after a good piss or crap – and also when you two
tarts show up to pay your dues,” he thoughtfully explained as he ushered them from the
room. “The cellar - you know the way.”
Taking a deep breath, Cathy went a few yards along the dank hall and through an open
door then gingerly climbed down the steep stone steps to the large cellar, which was
almost warm and bright compared to the hall. It was a positive Aladdin’s den of boxes and
crates, mostly of alcohol, which lined the walls and which Cathy guessed were a testament
to some sort of money-making racket. As they knew they must, the two beauties stood arms
by their side before a large armchair into which the creep eased his bulk.
As usual, Cathy shuddered inwardly when, down here, she renewed her acquaintance with
the obese slob, Jake, who controlled her. He was somewhere in his fifties with sweating
rolls of fat covering his twenty stone frame.
She knew only too well what would likely come next; it only varied in style.
“Your handbags please, girls. Then down to your underwear and kneel,” were his simple
commands as he settled back, smiling.
Opening each of their bags, he extracted and counted the £500 cash, which he insisted
they split between them, carrying half each. He said it was to minimise any loss if they
were robbed but in reality she knew it simply gave him the opportunity to rake round their
personal effects – which he also insisted they kept in the bags. But that was a minor
irritation practically forgotten as, her face flushing as deeply as it had on the first
such occasion here, Cathy reached behind to unzip her dress. She shivered lightly,
although it wasn’t cold, as the velvet-soft material slid off her body. Deliberately she
didn’t look as her daughter tugged off her tight jumper.
In less than a minute both beauties knelt before the slob, wearing only their
provocative and clinging undies. Cathy wore a black one-piece camisole moulded to her
curves, leaving much of her bottom on show. Laura wore a tiny pink floral thong revealing
all of her buttocks with only the tiny strip dividing them and a matching half-cup bra
through which the indents of her nipples clearly peeked. Both knew that they would be
punished for wearing anything the swine didn’t consider sexy.
As they knew they must, they knelt upright, backs ramrod straight, hands clasped behind
their necks. The posture thrust out their straining boobs before the beast’s small
glinting eyes and wet fleshy lips. Then they both parted their thighs wide in the manner
they knew he required, emphasising through the thin material the delights of their sex
lips. Revulsion, misery and resignation was etched onto each pretty face, both sets of
lips quivering in dread anticipation, knowing that, although they had some covering, they
wouldn’t have it for long. It was just a slow sadistic tease and their predicament would
slowly get worse.
“Some of these notes are a bit dirty, have you stuffed them up your arse?” he gurgled
with mirth.
“Sorry, sorry Sir, it’s how they came from the bank,” said Cathy in what she hoped was a
conciliatory tone.
“Well, you should have got crisp new ones, stupid sluts! I can see you both still have
much to learn.” His eyes glinted hotly. “And you don’t seem to have made any recent
entries in your diary, girl,” he purred to Laura. “I told you to keep it up to date with
when and how you shag your boyfriend. Well?”
“I-I’m s-sorry Sir, I must have forgotten,” ? she whispered tearfully.
“Forgotten! I’ve got one stupid c—t and one dirty slut to deal with then!” He raised his
eyes upwards in mock supplication.
Mother and daughter slumped slightly; full lips quivering, knowing that as sure as night
followed day he’d find some fault as an excuse for punishing them. He and the others in
his creepy family did every week. They almost wished they had shoved his filthy blood
money up their bottoms.
“Both stand. Take your daughter’s bra and knickers off and hand them to me.” He stared
into Cathy anguished face with eyes that had become hot pools of cruelty.
With shaking hands she reached for the delicate clasp between Laura’s shoulder blades.
Begging didn’t work; he had no sympathy or better nature. She had tried it before and it
only added to his obscene pleasure before she eventually had to obey his whim anyway.
Gently she eased the cups from her daughter’s firm breasts, seeing them bounce slightly,
the small pink nipples hard buttons of fear. She hadn’t undressed her for years, since she
was a child – that is, until she first came to this hideous place.
Unable to meet Laura’s wide, doe-like eyes she slid her fingers into the small waistband
of the knickers and slid the thong down slim thighs, revealing the ripe plumpness of the
shaven sex – just like a child’s. It was even worse having to place both of the warm
garments into the creep’s hot, sweating, hand.
Obediently, both women stood with hands by their side as their tormentor drew the strips
of satin under his nose, sniffing noisily whilst he regarded them. Laura’s face was
crimson with shame. She obviously longed to cover her small breasts and exposed sex from
the pervert’s avid gaze but she too knew from past experience that such a move was
forbidden.
“At least you’re keeping your pussy shaved like I asked. I like it that way. I might
even have to shave your mother too, we’ll see,” he said reflectively, loving his utter
control over
Biting her lip, Cathy placed a hand on the small of her daughter’s back as she bent over
to grip her ankles with tight white fingers. There was no doubting the girl’s beauty and
bitterness gripped her heart as she was forced to totally display it yet again. There was
a further bitterness that it must be she who was going to have to mar that beauty. Laura’s
dark hair cascaded about her tense face, hiding her shame as she presented her bottom into
a tight enticing curve - for her mother and the creep who controlled them both.
“Six hard ones, or you both get six of the cane – from me. You know the procedure.” He
knew they would obey, they always did, because Cathy knew he wasn’t bluffing. Feeling her
daughter tense, the small bottom contract, she brought her hand down.
Slap!
“Ow,” the girl gasped, keeping her hands in place but her fingers tightening whitely on
her ankles.
Cathy regarded with sorrow the red handprint she had been forced to inflict on the
smooth whiteness of her daughter’s bottom.
“Hurry up, you old cow!” Jake heaped on the pressure and shame.
Slap!
“Hah,” Laura jerked forward, shuddering, eyes screwed shut with pain as her mother gave
her a second painful humiliating mark of pain before the bastard who ordered it and who
was enjoying every minute.
Four more strokes followed to leave the beautiful young brunette with tears trickling
down her lovely face and onto her bare feet.
“Sit on my lap, girl, sideways,” Jake ordered the youngster. “I’ll take a look at your
sore botty while your mother touches her toes too and then uses her mouth on me. Here,
I’ll slip your things off.” He smiled wetly, clicking his fingers into Cathy’s ashen
face.
Jake felt a bulge forming under his cheap tracksuit bottoms as the beauty padded forward
to stand tensely before him. Smiling, he ran his hands over her smooth shoulders, slipping
down the thin straps, delighting in her shiver as he slid the garment over her breasts to
reveal each magnificent orb tipped with a hard red peak of fear.
Cupping the firmness of her bottom cheeks he tugged the soft garment down to expose her
full naked glory. She was a truly beautiful woman from her pretty, sculptured face and
slim, swan-like neck, to her still-firm bosoms, flat belly and pert buttocks.
After he gave those delicious cheeks a light pat, feeling them contract in dread, she
obediently bent over to touch her toes. It was, he thought, magnificent to have such power
over such beauty.
Slap!
“Hah,” she gasped, jerking slightly under the red hand-print across one her buttocks,
but managing to continue clasping her ankles with white knuckles, her long dark hair
falling down to curtain her shame-red face.
The spanking wasn’t severe, just humiliating he guessed for a proud beauty to endure it,
especially from someone like himself, and before her daughter. Nevertheless, her eyes were
wet with tears and she wiped them briefly with the back of her hand when he allowed her to
stand again, breasts bouncing softly, after four such strokes had painted her bottom red.
Then, following his pointing finger, she slowly knelt, making her breasts bounce again,
until her face was level with his crotch. Winking into her wide, tense eyes, he extracted
his thick penis, again simply pointing. It was difficult for him to believe that the trim
creature so utterly in his power could have borne the equally pretty youngster now edging
herself gingerly onto one of his thighs.
Idly, he ran sticky finger over the heat of the red hand-prints on Laura’s small bottom,
hearing her hiss of pain as the tight nates contracted.
“Hands on head. Open them up, sweetheart,” he murmured. He mauled her small shapely
breasts, up-thrust with her posture, the nipples like buttons against his palm, before
creeping up the silken thighs and against the smooth heat of her soft vulva.
The girl wriggled slightly as he delved a fingertip within her ripeness whilst her
mother’s mouth slid over his now hard erection. He was going to enjoy both of the
beautiful, proud creatures simultaneously before he set them to work.
As Cathy took the disgusting organ into her mouth, hearing his order to first stroke it
with her tongue and then ‘suck like fuck,’ her distraught mind wandered back to the fate
which had cast them into this nightmare.
| 
