Paul Gable
Whips and chains for mom
Chapter 1
"Lick that fuckin' boot, bitch!"
Joan Finney drew back, her slender fingers clutching at the top sheet of her bed. She stared at the large man in front of her. Her worst fears had been realized! While at home alone, she had been surprised by this man, an intruder who had rousted her from sleep. He was standing there at the foot of the bed now, one booted leg on the coverlet. He was pointing to his foot, a leer on his darkly handsome face. Joan shook her head, her long blonde hair washing across her face as she stared with disbelief at the big stud.
"Wh-wbat?"
"You hard of hearin', lady? I said get the fuck outta bed and lick them boots!"
He was leering at her, his gray eyes staring at her full tits ballooning out around the lace bodice of her dressing gown.
Aware of this, Joan pulled the covers up a little higher, cringing down on the bed, her ass tensing while a strange tingle rushed up and down her thighs. She looked at the phone, wondering how she could get to it and call the police.
The big man followed her eyes with his, stretching one hand out and tearing the phone from the nightstand. Joan let out a sharp cry, tightening her fingers around the silken edges of the coverlet. He was tearing the cord from the wall, the sound of the wires ripping loud in the small bedroom. The next moment she felt the sheets slipping from her grasp as he tore them off the bed.
"Damn!" he said, admiring Joan's long, lithe body. "OP Chuck ain't seen somethin' this nice in a long time." He scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully.
"Don't… hurt me," Joan stammered, her fingers fluttering around her tits. She felt the air making her nipples stand on end, spires poking up against the soft white material of her gown.
"Man, you got nice tits. And you're gettin' hot for me too, huh? I can see them nips gettin' real hard and stiff already."
"No, that's not true!"
"But you're gonna have to come down and lick ‘em, baby. You're gonna pay for my cock. I don't fuck a cunt for nothin', you know."
"Get out of here! Get out!" she cried, her eyes widening as Chuck rubbed his crotch with one hand.
His face darkened. Moving forward, he grabbed her hard around the neck, jerking her head forward until her lips cracked against his belt. Joan drew up both hands, pressing her palms flat against his thighs and pushing back. She struggled on the bed, her legs writhing against the top sheet while her feet kicked at the blanket. Chuck's fingers were bruising her flesh as he held her tight against him.
"Don't like to hear no one talkin' down at me, you hear?"
Moving his hand up, the big man grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging it so hard Joan found her head tilting back. She groaned through clenched teeth, her nostrils flaring as she looked up through tear-blurred eyes at the big man. She could feel some of the roots tearing from her scalp as the tension around her hair increased.
"Now, you gonna lick them boots?"
"No! Get out… out of here!" she panted defiantly.
Chuck laughed cruelly, tearing out more hair, then dropping one hand to his side. Jerking her around the bed a little more, Chuck let go of her hair, throwing the woman down onto the bed Joan struggled back, scooting her ass away until she felt her spine pressing against the headboard. She slid her hands behind her, her fingers clutching at the crushed white pillows while Chuck advanced.
"No!"
Joan raised one band protectively to her face. She saw him moving. an arm up, his fingers curled. He was about to hit her. She cringed against the headboard, her eyes dropping to his crotch. A hard-on. He was getting excited, aroused from just, doing this to her. His breathing was growing heavy, labored, nearly as heavy, as her own. His eyes glittered, reminding Joan of the look of a wolf cornering his prey. She trembled, her flesh alive to the slightest touch as he grinned hellishly at her.
"Please…"
Her voice was hardly a whisper now as she flattened herself against the headboard. Then his band came down in a broad sweeping arc. She could hear it as she closed her eyes and braced herself for the slap.
"Ugh!"
There was a hot, sharp, stinging sensation on her left cheek followed by a tremendous force that sent her crashing to the mattress. Her head snapped to one side as she fell. Pushing her hands forward, Joan tried crawling away from the big man.
"Come on, baby it ain't all that bad," Chuck said, hearing the woman's terrified sobs as she tried to cover herself.
Chuck reached forward, his fingers grabbing the soft white cotton material of her gown and pulling her back toward him. Joan moaned in terror, her fingers clutching at the top sheet, her feet kicking back. In a moment, she felt his hands grabbing hers, forcing her around, pulling her from the bed. Joan let out another cry, feeling her ass slipping over the corner of the mattress, her legs buckling under her. In a moment, she was kneeling in front of Chuck, her gown nearly pulled from her shoulders. Shame facedly, the woman pulled her garment back over her tits while Chuck laughed at her modesty.
"Now, I'm back back to what I told you before. Lick them boots baby. I wanna see that tongue flickin' in ‘n' out."
Joan drew one hand to her throat, feeling herself about to retch as she looked down at the black boots.
"No! Please, you can take anything you want in. the house," she stammered, looking up at him. "You can take anything and I promise I won't call the police until tomorrow. Just don't don't make me do this!" she begged, staring tearfully up at Chuck.
"It's a good offer, but not good enough," Chuck said, putting one hand down against her neck and forcing her head down. "I thought you might be some old lady or somethin' when I broke in. But man, you're a foxy chick. And I'm gonna have some fun with you ‘fore I get outta here with the stuff."
Joan struggled up against his hand. It was a futile struggled. Chuck pushed, forcing her head down, down until her lips were within an inch of the black shiny leather. Joan licked her lips, swallowing hard, resigning herself to doing what the big man told her. She felt the smooth leather pressing against her lips. He was holding her with both bands now, moving her skull from side to side, forcing her mouth first over the buckles, then down to the toe of the boot.
"Get that fuckin' tongue out, bitch! Come on and lick it clean!"
Joan braced her hands on either side of Chuck's right boot, her head forced down while her spine arched up into the air. Her tits hung sexily from her chest, the thirty-six-inch tit globes rocking in her gown. She flicked out her tongue and started licking Chuck's boot as instructed. Joan slid her tongue over the leather, thanking God it was relatively clean. She spat at the filthy saliva, then began licking it all over again, smoothing it in broad circular strokes until the entire top of the big man's boot shone with her spit.
"That's it, bitch. That's the way. You're gonna clean a man's boot with that fuckin' tongue of yours," he growled, rubbing his crotch while watching her lick his boot again and again.
Joan coughed and gagged, feeling the blood rushing to her head as she gathered the top of her gown around her tits. She thought she could feel it slipping from her shoulders again. She licked her tongue around his boot once more, cleaning it, feeling the bile rising in her throat until she began shaking with the force of her dry heaves. Chuck reached down, puffing her up by the hair and dragging her back to the bed.
"Don't dig that, eh, baby? You don't like lickin' a man's boot?" He sneered at a picture of her late husband on the dresser. "What're you married to, some kinda pansy?"
"He wasn't a pansy," Joan shot back, "and he's dead."
Chuck threw back his head and laughed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat.
"Then you need cock and need it bad. That's what I'm here for now, baby. I'm gonna have some good hot cuntmeat for a midnight snack."