Paul Gable - Her mother in bondage

Marcie Williams stood in the small room, standing on tiptoe and peering out the window. She saw the fence tall, strong, topped with barbed wire. It looked forbidding. The barbed wire made her flesh crawl. The teenager wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the gathering darkness. She'd been in this awful place for nearly a day now. In the distance she could hear dogs barking.

"Oh God!" Sobbing, Marcie turned from the window, hugging her body protectively, wondering what on earth was going to happen to her next. Kidnapped! The word made her gasp for breath. The girl closed her eyes and fought down the terror rising in her throat. No, she couldn't give in to these vague fears. She didn't even know what these men wanted. All she remembered was some pounding at the door. Her mother wasn't at home.

"Oh, it's getting cold!"

Marcie rubbed her palms briskly over her arms, feeling the goosepimples. What possibly could these men want of her? Her mother had no money, not really. Rhoda Williams, Marcie's mother, was a widow who worked as a registered nurse at St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica. Her pay was barely enough for them to get by on. When those two men burst into the house, threw some cloth over her head and dragged her out the back door, Marcie couldn't believe this was really happening. What on earth could they want?

The girl sighed, wondering what would be in store for her. Stories of what kidnappers did to their victims, especially if they were young and attractive, flashed through her mind. They were animals. They'd strike tomorrow, or possibly tonight. It was inevitable. Marcie became faint with terror.

Stretching out an arm, the girl supported herself, trying not to think of this insanity. The thought of her being taken by force to this out-of-the-way spot was almost hilarious. For a moment Marcie thought her kidnappers might be sex fiends, taking her just for pleasure. Rut then they would have raped her in a moment, violating her in the car.

Instead they had tossed her inside a smelly room, then locked the door without saying a word!

Marcie was a fully developed teenager with thirty-six-inch, high-riding tits, a waspish waist, long lithe legs, and a pretty face framed by long, blonde hair. Her full tits and ass made many a man turn his head. Plenty of boys at school had wanted to fuck her too. But, miraculously, Marcie had managed to keep her cherry intact, fending off anxious studs with their crawling hands. Several times in parked cars they had managed to get their hands up her dress to cop a feel. But that was their last date with her. No, Marcie wasn't going to wind up in a maternity dress just because some guy wanted to get off.

She paced six feet in one direction, six feet in another. What were they going to do to her? If only she knew. Marcie thought she'd be able to face anything if only she knew!

The frustration, anger and tenor brought about a change in her that she found strange. Surprisingly the girl discovered her pussy was becoming hot and tight. The more she thought about her captivity and the possible horrors it could entail, the more aroused her cunt became. Why? Why on earth should this imprisonment delight her in this odd way? Marcie closed her eyes, passing one hand over her burning forehead. It was so confusing.

"What is this?" she moaned, swaying back and forth.

Glancing nervously around, Marcie sat on the floor, then she glanced quickly at the window then the door. She'd brought herself off many times before, thinking of one or two of the guys on the football team while moving her fingers through her cunt. This, she thought, would be a perfect time to take care of the bothersome itchy ache that plagued her now.

Her mother had told her that good girls don't "touch" themselves. That term was so outdated, especially considering her mother was a nurse. Squatting on the floor now, the girl pushed one hand under her skirt, her fingers crawling up the smooth silky flesh of her thighs until they reached her pussy hairs.

Marcie never wore panties, much to the dismay of her mother. She liked the sensation of the breeze wafting up against her cuntlips as she walked or ran.

Now, having no panties was convenient. Easing her ass back and forth, she touched her matted cunthairs. The girl straightened up, wriggling her hips to position her fingers against her clit. Contact was made. Marcie gasped, closing her eyes and feeling her cuntal muscles snap shut on her fingers.

"Unnhhhhhh!"

Was this how a cock felt? In spite of her resolve not to let a man fuck her, Marcie was curious about men, about how they fucked, about how they felt when they were inside a woman. She and her girlfriends talked lots about that. But only a few had really gone all the way. Her high school, it seemed, was out of the mainstream of the sexual revolution. What they told her wasn't all that attractive. One of the girls mentioned all the pain and blood that followed her first fucking. It didn't sound at all attractive.

Now, as Marcie worked her hips back and forth, fucking her fingers while letting her head fall back, the thought of having a hard cock sawing in and out of her pussy didn't seem particularly horrible.

"Mmmmmmm!"

She raised, then lowered her ass, rubbing her clit. There were a few guys in school, Brad Harrington in particular, whom she wouldn't have minded going to bed with. Of course, this was all in fantasy. She was the kind of girl who would never go right up to some guy and ask him to fuck her.

Marcie closed her eyes and tried to imagine Brad naked. Once or twice she'd seen him at the highschool pool, his well-formed pecs wet, his strong muscled legs flexing as he dived off the high board in a broad graceful arc into the pool. Oh, God, how she wanted him now!

"Unnghhhhh!"

Her hips were working faster and faster. The slick sound of her pussy sliding over her fingers filled the tiny room. Her back was straight, her head thrown back, her eyes closed tightly. Marcie was fucking herself as carnal images rushed through her head.

"Oh!"

Her fingernail brushed against her clit. Marcie felt the familiar hot/cold flashes tearing through her clit. She was cumming not fast, not hard, but cumming nonetheless. She couldn't stop. The girl kept at it even after the tiny orgasm made her lose her breath. She rolled her hips. Then, as another orgasm erupted, she lurched back and forth. She moved side to side, rubbing her hot cunt. Her knees snapped together, trapping her wrist as she fucked wildly, grunting like a stuck pig.

Brad. Brad!

She thought of him, and her hips worked faster and faster. She dug into her cunt harder. Then, with one final wrench, she was through. With a groan she fell on her side, her legs drawn up against her belly, her knees digging into her swollen tits.

Marcie sobbed, tears falling freely over her cheeks. What had happened was due to her strange situation. This wouldn't happen at home. No, it was only because

Sound outside the door made her stiffen, straighten her back and sit up. Someone was approaching the room. Maybe now she would find out what was happening, why these strange men had kidnapped her.

When the door opened, Marcie saw a tall, thickly built man standing some four feet in front of her. She shrank back instinctively, drawing both hands up to her throat. His black beard and moustache and his long black hair made him look like the devil.

Marcie tried to shake away her growing terror, finding some courage to speak.

"Why am I here?" She sounded so weak, so tiny.

The big man didn't say a word, stepping forward and slamming the door shut behind him. He was handsome in a dark, rugged way. There was the faint smell of cigarette smoke and beer about him as he drew closer. He stopped in front of her. On the floor, Marcie saw that his boots were caked with mud. Where were they? They had kept the hood over her head all the while they drove from her house.