"Now, why don't you sit down again and get to know us all? We're real nice. Underneath."
"Let me out of here!" Natalie turned and ran straight into Matt. "Let go of me, let go!" She struggled in his iron-hard hands.
"Is this bitch playing up?" boomed a massive man, appearing in the doorway.
"Yup, Dad," said Matt, twisting Natalie around to face him.
Zane Bryden was as compelling as one would expect from a man who had built himself up from ranch hand, to the owner of several million acres. He was in his forties, broad-chested and dark like the rest of his family. He tossed his chaps into the corner and looked around.
"Well, the way I figure it, is that our proposal has been kinda sudden. So string her up and let her see what we do to unruly bitches. Then she can make up her mind, kinda easy like."
"Let me go!" Natalie screamed as Matt gripped her arms tighter.
Lance lowered a rope that ran over a pulley in the kitchen ceiling. Natalie shuddered.
"What are you doing?" she moaned, terror clutching her throat as strong leather bonds were put around her waist and the hook at the end of the rope ran through them. "Stop!"
Natalie screamed, but Lance heaved on the rope and her arms were pulled up, over her head until she almost hung from them, her feet just touching the floor. She struggled, but she was utterly helpless.
"Let me out of here!"
She screamed again, twisting around to the window where the low sun beamed through. It was late in the afternoon already and there was no possibility of help.
"Turn around and face the table!" Zane snapped.
Natalie shook with terror and turned back, her arms shaking with the strain. Her dress was pulled up almost to her knees by her raised arms and she knew that Lance was looking at her legs. He came over.
"Fuck," he said, "when did this go out of style? You wear this shit in L.A.?"
"Yes." Natalie trembled from head to foot. "Fuck!" Lance shook his head. He put his beer down and lifted the hem of her dress, up over Natalie's knees.
"Stop, stop!" Natalie screamed, wriggling as her stocking tops were exposed.
He laughed and dropped the dress again, leaving Natalie sobbing with fear.
"Cherie," called Zane.
"Yes, Daddy?" a girl called from an adjoining room.
"Come on in."
"Yes, Daddy."
Natalie gasped as the sultry blonde entered.
It was Matt's wife, or at least, she had been introduced to Natalie on her last visit as Matt's wife. Perhaps she was Zane's daughter. But she was blonde, unlike the rest of them. She wore a lot of makeup, her eyes outlined in black and her wide mouth a sweeping slash of sensual scarlet as she pouted and hung in the doorway.
"Fuck," she said, "is that what all the fuss is about?"
She was dressed in nothing more than a low-cut top that slid under her thrusting tits, a very short denim skirt that strained against her ass, and a pair of high-heeled shoes. She strutted into the room, her hips swaying, her eyes alight with lust.
"Why get her in?" she demanded. "She's just trouble. I can take care of you all," she grinned at Roxanne. "Even you, whore."
"Watch your fuckin' mouth, girl," said Zane.
"Yes, Daddy." Cherie ran her hands over her tits. "You want me to show her?" She jerked a thumb in Natalie's direction.
"Yeah," answered Zane. "Right now."
"Fuck!" The pouting blonde came over to the whimpering Natalie. "You watch this, cunt. This is what you get around here for playing these fuckers around. Only I like it."
She laughed and ran her hand up Natalie's body, reaching for her lovely tits.
"Please, stop," Natalie whimpered. "Please, get your dad to let me go."
Cherie laughed. "Hear that, Daddy? She wants me to let her go."
A round of chuckles went through the room. "Nah." Cherie's hand played with Natalie's tits through her dress and bra. "It's gonna be too much fun."
"Stop that!" Natalie pleaded, but Cherie had already stopped and turned away.
She strutted over to the table and swung onto it on her back. Brazenly she wriggled back until her head was over the edge. Then she pulled her long legs up and held them wide apart, over her head. Her short denim skirt fell over her hips, showing the tiny pair of white panties she wore. She turned to Natalie.
"Watch this, cunt," she said.
Lance stepped up to Cherie's head and unzipped his jeans.
Natalie gasped and turned her head away. He pulled out his massive cock, fully nine inches of swollen meat, and ran it over Cherie's pouty, big lips.
"Watch it, whore!" Zane snapped.
Desperately Natalie turned back, her horrified eyes on the massive, long prick that Lance held in his hand as he cased his cockhead over Cherie's welcoming lips.
"Suck that cock!" Zane eased back in his chair and opened a beer, taking a long drink. Cherie licked her tongue out over the throbbing purplish cockhead.
"Fuck off!" she grinned, her legs trembling as she held them up.
"Suck that cock or Matt here will give you what you need to persuade you," said Zane.
"Ohhh right, whip his own fuckin' wife to make her blow some stuck up fucker." Cherie licked her tongue over Lance's cockhead again.
"Suck it," said Zane.
"Suck it yourself," challenged Cherie. Her blonde hair flicked as she pulled her legs even further back, thrusting her pussy out.
Lance pushed her top down, puffing her soft, luscious tits out. He caressed them with one hand, sliding it over the warm skin as he kept his cockhead moving slowly over Cherie's lips.
Natalie moaned in rising horror as she twisted, her arms aching. Matt walked into the next room and came back with a whip in his hand. It had a short leather handle, and then separated into a great many tails, all of which were tightly knotted at intervals all the way down. He fucked it over Cherie's thrusting cunt and she gasped, her hips jerking upward.
"You can't make me suck cock!" she challenged.
With a grin, Matt worked the blonde's short skirt up her body, so that her thighs and pussy were totally exposed. The crotch of Cherie's panties was damp, the stain spreading as Roxanne followed his movements with her hungry eyes.
"You shit bag." Cherie snarled as he stepped back and ran the tails of the whip over her tight white panties, letting them trail slowly down, brushing her pussy. Even in her misery, Natalie could see Cherie's pussy lips twitch as the tails dropped away.
"Suck my friend off," said Matt.
"Fuck off!" Cherie thrust her legs even wider.
Slowly the whip went back over Matt's shoulder while he gazed down on Cherie, grinning wildly. Cherie let her head drop back and flicked her tongue over Lance's cockhead once more.
Suddenly Natalie realized that Roxanne was standing behind her, very close.
"Watch this," the dark-haired woman said, "because it'll happen to you, I promise."
The whip lashed downwards, the tails cutting into Cherie's panties and the white flesh at the top of her thighs. There were dents in the white material as the tails came away and swung back up again.
Natalie was almost sick at Cherie's reaction. The little whore lunged her pussy upward, her legs straining wide open, while a screw of guttural lust rang around the room.
"You shit!" she yelled, her thighs trembling. Her red lips pouted, but they refused to let Lance's cock in.
The whip crashed down again, landing with a sickening slap into Cherie's wide open pussy. She moaned, her inner thighs also getting red, from the spread tails of the whip. Her pussy jerked upward, thrusting shamelessly for the knotted tails as they whipped downwards again.
She groaned. "Ohhh, suck your own cocks, you fuckers! You can't whip me hard enough to make me do shit."
She rolled on the table, her tongue flicking briefly over Lance's cockhead as she passed, her whole body heaving with the most disgusting lust.