Chapter 2

In the morning my common sense prevailed. Without a substantial amount of money, I was trapped in this abusive, decadent situation until I could return to college in the fall.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. That, in itself, was very unusual. Dad was a big breakfast eater. I downed a quick bowl of cereal and left for work.

Arriving at my desk, I found a note requesting I report to Mrs Richard's office as soon as possible. I became apprehensive, thinking the worse. What would I do if they were to let me go?

I knocked before entering. She was on the phone but directed me to have a seat. Five nerve racking minutes later she finally got around to me.

"Listen, Bethany, I had a call today from some woman who wanted to give me some very interesting information. Do you know a woman by the name of Inga?"

I literally froze in my chair. For the longest moment I couldn't find my voice to speak. Stuttering, I finally answered... "Yes... uh... yes, I sort of know her. Why?"

"Well," Mrs Richards spoke slowly, "She claims that the day you phoned in sick you were actually... uh... not sick. Now, this isn't something I really want or need to know about."

She hesitated for a moment as if collecting her thoughts. At first glance, she appeared to be agitated. I realized, however, she wasn't angry, she was nervous.

She continued: "I realize everyone lies and calls in sick once in awhile. I've done it myself a time or two. But... and believe me when I say, I really don't care to delve into an employee's private affairs. Unfortunately, this woman insisted on filling me in on every sordid detail of your day of absence."

I was completely bewildered by all of this, not to mentioned totally embarrassed. I couldn't imagine why Inga would feel compelled to screw up my employment!

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Richards. I don't know this woman that well. She's sort of an acquaintance of my mother. I haven't any idea how she could possibly know anything about my day off. What exactly did she say?"

"Hmmm" Mrs Richards mused. "I don't feel comfortable repeating it. Suffice to say, If what she told me was true, you certainly must lead a very interesting life. Mind you, your sex life is your own business. However, someone calling me during business hours and vividly describing it to me, makes it mine."

"Yes ma'am," I mumbled.

"Can I ask you a question?" Mrs Richards whispered as if our conversation might be overheard.

"Uh... I guess," I whispered back.

"Is it possible that any part of what she described to me over the phone may be true?"

"And if I say yes... what then?" I asked hesitantly. "Will I be fired? Are you intending on firing me anyway?"

"Oh heavens no," she answered. "I was just curious. After all, I live in a pretty narrow, bland world. Something like this could never occur."

I immediately recognized the look she was giving me. I could take it one of two ways: Flattering... or disgusting. A little bit of spice had been sprinkled into her mundane work day and she was intrigued by it. I was sure it was beyond her comprehension, that she could actually be talking to someone who dabbled in such depravity and perversion.

"Well, I don't know what this woman actually told you," I said in a calm and measured tone. "But, if she told you what I think she told you, probably all of it was true."

There it was! I knew it... the trembling hands, her fidgeting in her chair. Not to mention the flush, red tone of her face. Her excitement was so readable... I was sure her panties were soaking wet, and equally sure wet panties would be an uncommon occurrence for a lady of her position in life.

Her phone rang. As she answered it I made a hasty retreat from her office. As angry and upset as I was, our conversation appeared to solidify my employment for the remainder of the summer. She wasn't about to fire me now... she would want to know more later... to try to re-capture that moment, the moment I told her the truth... that moment she experienced that shameful sexual sensation she was unaccustomed to feeling, the pounding of her heart when she was first exposed to a forbidden fantasy, a fantasy she could never create on her own.

The first chance I got I called my mother. The phone rang at least ten times before she answered. She sounded like she just crawled out of bed.

She became extremely upset when I told her what had happened. She couldn't explain it... acted as if she was at a total loss as to why Inga would do something so cruel. I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had better take care of it.

When I arrived home after work, no one was around. Going to my room, I heard voices coming from my parents bedroom. With my ear to the door, I could hear moaning. I assumed dad was picking up where he left off the previous night.

Suddenly I heard what sounded like Inga's voice inside the room. I became so angry I burst into the room without knocking. And I was right... it was Inga. But she wasn't with mother... she was with my dad!

The odor in the room almost nauseated me. Dad was on the bed on all fours, Inga behind him, fucking him up the ass with a large, thick black rubber cock. It was thoroughly disgusting. Dad, moaning in what can only be described as unmanly, was taking the huge rubber cock up the ass as he whacked himself off. They didn't even notice I had entered the room.

Backing out of the room, I proceeded down to hall to change. I had to get out of the house and jogging seemed to be the most logical way to vent my disgust.

Running thru the park I came across mom sitting on a bench. She had Pepper with her. Her face was drawn, the sadness in her eyes like I had never seen before.

"I pulled up next to her and sat down. "Hey, mom. What are you doing out here?"

"I had to get out of the house for awhile," she exclaimed. "I'm not sure what's happening, but I know it isn't healthy. I'm sorry for what happened to you last night. Your dad blabbed about it... It must have been awful for you. I'm so ashamed of him, of myself. Sometimes the pleasures of the flesh are exceeded by the sadness of the soul."

I was blown away. For a non-intellectual like my mother, that was an extremely insightful, profound statement. At least it was to a first year Psychology major like me.

I put my arms around her and held her for awhile. She didn't cry... not even a whimper. Just sitting, lost for a moment in her own little world of pain.

She gently pulled away from me and stood up. Taking me by my hand, she began leading me towards home.

"I have something for you," she declared proudly. "If I never do anything else in my life, this is something I want... I have to do."

We walked swiftly, as if on a mission. Little did I know that's exactly what it was for her.

Once inside the house, she led me to my father's den. She proceeded straight to a wall safe behind a large hanging print, a safe unused for years because my dad could never remember the combination. Apparently mother never revealed to him she knew what the combination was... giving her access to her own private hiding place.

Once opened, she pulled out a small metal case and a tan manila folder. Her eyes were blazing with purpose... it was almost scary!

She began speaking in a low, serious voice. "Your dad has been extremely fortunate since starting his law practive twenty years ago. He's made a lot of money, some of it questionable."

I had no idea where this was leading.

She continued. "To your dad it was all about winning. He was never much of a money person. So long as he could buy what he wanted and live comfortably he never paid much attention to his finances."

"Mom, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the money, Bethany. The money."

She opened the metal box. It was stuffed with cash. She removed several bound bundles and place them in a cloth sack lying on the desk.

"This is fifty thousand cash," she said excitedly. "It's yours. No tax... don't report it. Put it in a safe deposit box at the bank where you have your checking account. Use it when you need it."

I stared at her in awe. I was in total shock. She opened the folder, removing and handing me a check. A cashiers check. A cashiers check made out to me. A cashiers check made out to me for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!

"What the hell is this mom. A quarter of a million dollars. You can't give me a quarter of a million dollars. Plus the fifty thousand... that's like... uh like..."

"Like three hundred thousand dollars," she said with a big beaming smile. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to declare this as gift and pay taxes on it. I couldn't hide it all. But this is what I want you do. Listen carefully. I've made arrangements for you to meet with Jim Fuller. You remember Jim don't you, the guy that hated your father for screwing him on some deal. Jim always liked me though and you can trust him. He's a very smart Financial Planner. I've explained everything to him. He can make sure you pay the least amount of taxes. You'll have the money to pay for your college as well as live on for awhile. If you really watch your money, you might be able to live on it for... Oh hell, you do what you think best, okay."

"You hid this from dad all these years and now your giving it to me? Why? No, don't even tell me why. I can't take your money. It's yours."

"Don't you worry honey. I have more than enough for myself. This is for your start in life. I owe you that much. I know the bond between us is pretty shaky right now, maybe unrepairable. I'm sure your not holding your dad in such high esteem either. Your father and I have, well we've made our bed..."

At that moment I loved her more than anything... but she was right. What we had a month ago, what every child cherishes, the long standing bond of family, was gone. They would always be my parents but...

"Now take the bag, and the check, up to your room. You call in sick tomorrow and move out while your dad is at work, okay. When, and if you're ever ready to see us again, you call. I'm sorry for everything that has happened but you have to believe me, I really love you honey."

She gathered her things up and placed them back in the safe. Locking it, she quietly strode out of the room. She looked beautiful again.

A few minutes later I passed their bedroom door again. I could hear them inside. Inga, the bitch, was still there.

I should have went straight to my room. As before though, I put my ear to the door. I could hear Inga speaking to mom: "How's your asshole Jesse... ready for that big cock reaming again? Jack, get over here. Either you're going to fuck this cunt bitch or I am."

And then my father's voice... meek and submissive, saying; "Why can't both of us fuck her... you know, like before."

I vomited on the floor right outside their door.

I moved out the next day. Mom left a note on the kitchen table telling me to take her new SUV. She explained why... It had four times the cargo space as my little compact car. She even made a joke; She didn't want me looking like I was right out of the "Grapes of Wrath" driving down the street in my little car with clothes hanging out of the windows. She even left the title in the glove compartment... It was signed over to me.

I really wanted to talk to her before I left. She was no where around... purposely I assumed. Not that it mattered now, but I was still curious as to why Inga had tried to make so much trouble for me at work. And dad... how the hell did he get involved with Inga so quickly? I wanted to tell her I thought Inga was dangerous and to be careful.

I was still amazed that a family could practically disintegrate in such a short period of time. Mom's betrayal of dad... dad's betrayal of me. I couldn't forget how I was caught up in their ugliness. Especially when dad raped me. Viagra may have been the gun but dad pulled the trigger. He fucked me because he could... It was as simple as that in my mind. That I actually received such pleasure from it... That I became a willing participant... I may never comprehend. Maybe I was destined to be just like them.

My new SUV was nice. It felt safe and secure, completely unlike the little death trap I'd been driving. And mom was right... I could never have fitted all of my belongings in my little car.

I drove around trying to get used to my new vehicle. Pulling into my familiar haunt, Denny's, I purchased a local paper to scan apartments for rent. I certainly didn't want to take up a lot of time looking for something. I would be returning to school in a couple of months. And I didn't want to miss any more work. I now had money, thanks to mom, and didn't have to work. It was important to me though that I finish out the summer. After all, they were kind enough to employ me, I felt I should complete my obligation.

It suddenly dawned on me... I was traveling around with fifty thousand dollars cash! I quickly paid for my coffee and rushed to my bank. As mom had suggested, I rented a safe deposit to hide the cash she so generously gave to me.

While at the bank, I deposited the two hundred and fifty thousand in a savings account. I knew this probably wasn't shrewd investing but I didn't trust going to the man mom had suggested. I just wanted it safe for now... maybe something else would present itself later.

By six that evening I was moved into a small efficiency apartment. It was cheap... exactly what I wanted. A clean break from my family finally felt complete.

For the next two weeks I fell into a comfortable routine. Work, home in the evening and an occasional movie. I liked my independence... I especially liked the secure feeling that only money can give you. An occasional emptiness would overcome me... wondering why dad never called to see if I was alright, or to apologize. It sadden me.

It was during one of my down times when Mrs Richards, my supervisor, invited me to dinner at her home. I had told her earlier in the week I moved away from my parents and was living on my own. I thought she was being kind... maybe thinking I needed a good home cooked meal. I readily accepted.

I knew Mrs Richards was married and had a sixteen year old daughter. Imagine my surprise when, upon arriving at her home, she casually informed me her husband was out of town on business, and her daughter was staying overnight with a friend. My gut feeling was her invitation for a home cooked meal was more than just being kind to me. I became extremely wary.

The evening began pleasant enough. She poured me a glass of wine and we exchanged personal pleasantries as we waited for our meal. I actually felt guilty that I doubted her motive. She never gave a hint that this was anything more than... than what it was... A dinner with a co-worker and new friend.

After dinner, sitting in her lovely living room sipping wine, she let the cat out of the bag. My instinct was right all along.

"You know Bethany, I've thought a lot about that weird phone call... remember... the woman that called about... uh... what was her name... Inga, yes Inga. You remember when you told me that what she said to me was probably true?"

"Yes, I remember," I said calmly. I had this sudden urge to hurt her for inviting me here under such false pretenses.

"I just can't imagine women doing things like that," she said. "Especially to... you know... to each other."

I could detect the inflection in her voice. She was so excited to talk about it... It frightened her that she was intrigued and sexually stimulated by it. I knew she would be happy just to talk... to have me describe, in detail, the sexual activity between Inga and myself. She could then, later, go up to her bedroom and finger herself without admitting to herself she could ever actually participate in anything so depraved. It made me all the more angrier.

"Would you like me to tell you what happened?" I said with an air of innocent sincerity.

"Uh... only if you want too," she said, her voice trembling from excitement. "First let me get us some more wine."

As she poured herself another glass of courage, I began: "Inga is this beautiful blonde tennis pro," I said in a quiet voice. "She has a body like... like mine you might say. You know, nice breast, firm round ass. She also loves to have sex, especially with women. She's also very domineering... She loves giving orders to women, especially orders to lick her between her legs... And even her backside, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah... uh, yes, I understand," Mrs Richards murmured, completely entranced by my description so far.

"She likes to intimidate," I said. "Like this." I demonstrated by walking over to the sofa where she was sitting, placing my waist just inches from her face. She nervously tried to look up into my eyes, uncomfortable with my crotch so close to her face. She licked her lips nervously, not at all comfortable, wondering what I would do next.

I found myself enjoying her discomfort, and quickly reflect on why I would do this to her. Maybe it was to lash out at Inga, or my mother, or both. Maybe, just maybe, it was because I felt betrayed by Mrs Richards, using me for her own sick, ugly purpose.

Since job security wasn't an issue for me any more, I pushed forward. "You're not to look up at my face, Pamela." It sounded strange, calling her by her first name. "Don't look at my face... Look straight ahead, here." I slowly pulled up the hem of my skirt exposing my panty covered crotch. It was exhilarating.

She began to breath heavy, trying her best to control her emotions, the same way she had trained herself to do in the business world.

She was a domineering person at the office... I thought it odd she would allow herself to fall into such a submissive position.

I put my right hand on the back of her neck and gently, but firmly tried pulling her head and face forward. Her entire body stiffened... resisting what she clearly knew was wrong. She didn't want the fantasy fulfilled... she wanted me to enhance the fantasy in her head!

I didn't give an inch, continuing the pressure until her face, and mouth moved within half an inch of my pussy. "Take a deep whiff, Pamela... Smell my pussy. That's real. And it's what you've wanted for the last two weeks isn't it."

"Please, oh god... please don't. I'm sorry Bethany... I shouldn't have ask... oh please, just leave... and let me alone. Please..."

I hunched the crease of my panties right up against her lips. "Just a little taste, Pam... then maybe I'll leave. First, take just a little taste."

Looking down, I could see her tongue inch out ever so slowly. Touching, tasting my wet spot, withdrawing her tongue, then slithering out to taste again.

"Would you like to be my bitch for just one night, Pam?" I whispered. "Would you like me to make you do things to me? Isn't that what this dinner was all about you goddamn cunt?"

She didn't answer... she didn't remove her tongue from my panties either. I couldn't help but wonder where my aggressiveness was coming from. This wasn't like me at all. But I felt so confident...

"I always knew you were a slut, Pam. Your eyes begging me to make you lick my cunt... to make you my bitch. When I cum in your mouth you're going to..."

She moaned out loud. "Oh god... oh my god... please don't make me do this... please. I'll be your bitch... call me anything you want... Just please don't make me... don't make me do anything..."

I knew she wanted me to order her to lick me. She wanted to obey... and not be responsible for her own actions. Why else would she stay in such a precarious position. She could have simply pushed me away.

With my left hand, I pulled the crotch of my panties aside. Exposing my wet slit in front of her aroused me even more. Another firm, aggressive pull on the back of her neck and her lips were firmly implanted on my cunt. Immediately her tongue wormed up inside of me. I felt a tremendous feeling of power over her... and it was so sexual stimulating I became a little crazy... I wanted to degrade her, hurt and shame her. It was becoming exciting just thinking of ways I could make her grovel... and give me the orgasm I suddenly, desperately craved.

"That's it... lick my cunt you fucking slut. Fuck me with your tongue. You like that don't you... eating my pussy."

My verbal abuse of her seemed to come naturally to me. Discovering things about yourself, especially negative things can sometimes be disturbing. I was acutely aware I didn't feel disturbed at all.

A spark of lust inflamed me... I tried to pace myself... to extend the sudden sexual urge for as long as I could... The pleasure I was experiencing was exquisite... and I knew my orgasm was going to be... be even more gratifying...

I became bolder, or so it seemed. I humped and grinded my pussy against her mouth aggressively, never mind she was my boss, a lady of quality and substance. And in her own living room!

I felt like Inga... like Inga when she fucked my mother, treating her like nothing more than a piece of meat. Anything goes... the end justifies the means. And my end was to cum... God how I loved to cum, to feel my heart racing, the loss of every inhibition, and experience absolute pleasure coursing thru every fiber of my body.

"YOU WHORE BITCH," I screamed at her. "YOU'RE JUST LIKE MY MOMMY."

As inexperienced as she was, as we both were, she was going to make me cum. It was so deliciously pleasurable to know I was going to gush and drip into her mouth... my creamy cum juices were going to end up in her belly, right there with the wine and chicken.

"OH GOD, I'M GOING TO CUM... I'M... I'M SOOO... OH FUCK... SUCK IT DOWN YOU BITCH... Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I held her head firmly as my thrusting hips pounded her mouth, her lips... That suspension of time when all that matters is the pure, timeless pleasure, timeless because you can never, ever stop the craving...

I finally released her head, letting her fall back on the couch. Her eyes were filled with lust, and fear, and bewildered by her position in the order of things.

"Stretch out on the sofa," I ordered sternly.

She complied, but ever the lady, pulled down and smoothed out her skirt as most modest women would do.

I looked down at her. She was a beautiful woman, like my mother, graceful and proud, but so vulnerable to strength and authority.

"You don't think I would leave you without making sure you were satisfied do you?" a question asked and answered. "Put your hand up your skirt," I ordered, "and stroke your pussy."

Her eyes begged me not to do this to her. It was like throwing oil on the fire... She actually thought she didn't want any more shame and humiliation. I knew better. I learned that from my mother...

"Did you hear me?" I said as threatening as I could sound. "Do you want me to warm you up... to sit on your face?"

She turned away from me, burying her face in the sofa cushion. I couldn't interpret her moan... whether it was a yes or no. I wasn't going to ask her again.

"See what I'm doing Pam," I said stepping away from the couch. She turned her head ever so slightly, watching me out of the corner of her eyes.

Pulling up my skirt I began wiggling out of my panties, a cute little wiggle that would turn a normal man into stone.

Pam gasped... acting as if it just dawned on her what I planned on doing.

"Please don't Bethany... I've had enough. I can't do this any more. This is not what I wanted. Please... no more. I'll get sick... please, don't make me."

"That's not true Pam," I said in a low, clear voice. "It's exactly what you want. You've thought about it a lot haven't you? Remember how it excited you when I told you Inga liked her ass licked? You've fantasized about it... I know you have. Well, your fantasy is about to come true."

"I can't," she whimpered. "Please don't make me... I'm begging you. Pleaseeee. I've already humiliated myself enough."

She almost convinced me but I managed to ignore her pleading. I was positive I was right. As I approached her she rolled her head back and forth to make her mouth a moving target. Pulling up my skirt to bare my ass, I straddled her head, facing her legs and feet. I wanted to watch her finger herself. Lowering my body, she screamed one last time.

"Ohhh Godddd... NOOOOOOOOOOOO."

The space below my pussy covered her mouth, her nose buried up the crack of my ass. I was afraid she couldn't breathe. Then again, I really didn't care. The nose up my ass was a new, pleasant sensation for me.

She lay totally still for a few minutes, moaning and crying as I fucked her nose with my ass. Not surprisingly, within a few minutes her hand moved to the hem of her skirt. Being modest to the end, she tried to slide her hand up under her skirt without exposing her crotch. Once she touched her slit, however, her lust driven desire to satisfy herself took over. Her thighs spread like butter, the fingers of both hands busily inducing her cunt to the brink of an orgasm.

The more pronounced her heavy breathing became, the more pleasing her hot breath between my legs felt. This extremely modest, happily married woman was now displaying a vulgarity of a closeted slut, her splayed legs and thrusting hips quickly closing in on an orgasm more explosive than any she ever experienced in her life.

She cum, her entire body strained from the quivering spasms racking her cunt. And the signature of a woman's orgasm is her total loss of control. Pam was a prime example.

As I sat on Pam's face, her orgasm finally subsided. True to her nature, she quickly closed her legs tightly and pulled down her skirt. I wasn't surprised to hear her gurgle, quickly followed by a warm substance oozing up between my legs. I knew what she was experiencing. When her lust level was high, the smell of my asshole was an aphrodisiac... When the lust was satisfied, the effect of the reality of the aroma was distasteful and gross. With her nose still stuck between my cheeks, she vomited.

Later, after cleaning myself, when I so adorably wiggled back into my panties, Mrs Richards wasn't there to see. As soon as I let her up, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. I was sure the foremost thing on her mind was the fear facing me at the office in the morning. My new found confidence allowed my to look forward to it.

At the office it was apparent Pam was out of sorts. She was nervous and uncomfortable whenever she had to be around me. It seemed to empower me all the more.

I realized I was treading on a slippery slope, on the verge of being Inga-nized. But I was sure I could be different than Inga. I could, at the very least, have boundaries, have a heart.

In the middle of the afternoon, Mrs Richards passed me in the hall, crying. I followed her to the ladies room.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked in a stern voice. "Why have you been so emotional all day?"

"You... you have to ask me that," she blubbered. "After last night... my god, how am I going to live with myself."

"The same way you lived with yourself when you fantasized about it," I said in a consoling matter. "One day you're thinking about it, dreaming about it, the next day you've done it. What's the real difference."

I didn't buy this stupid rationalization but at least it made her stop crying.

"Do you really think so?" she asked, looking for absolution.

"No, not really," I said truthfully. "Certainly there's a difference. But what's done is done. You might not think so but you'll do it again. Probably not with me, but with someone. You can't turn off your fantasies and desires just like that."

"Well, I know I can't work here... not with you here," she said emphatically. "I just can't. As much as I love this job, it would be too difficult to see you every day."

"Jesus Christ, Pamela. I'm only going to be here another six weeks or so. Are you telling me you can't work in the same office with me for six more weeks?"

"No, I can't. I just can't. I'm quitting. I don't have a choice."

I couldn't let her ruin her life. If she felt this strongly about it, I would quit. I didn't want this on my conscience. I still had authority over her... authority she readily gave over to me. I should be compensated if I was going to do her this favor.

"How about if I quit," I said. "Would you stay?"

"Yesss, god yes, she said enthusiastically. "Do you really mean it... you would do that for me?"

"Only if I can get two things," I said as I looked straight into her eyes. "I want two weeks severance pay."

"Okay, I"m sure I can get that approved," she answered quickly. "And what else?"

"You need to thank me properly... on your knees."

"You mean..."

"Yes, that's what I mean. Get on you knees. You're still my bitch, or have you forgotten that."

She was trembling, not from fear, but excitement. She had to resist... that was her defense mechanism... her way of abdicating her responsibilities for her actions. She was waiting for me to make her do it... to leave her no choice.

"Please Bethany, not that. Please don't make me. I can't, not here... please."