Chapter 4

He showed up at ten before the hour. He took Heather and me into the back to get dressed to his specifications. The strange thing about the way he chose to dress us was that he bought all those slut clothes for us yesterday but except that he made us put some of the new sexy underwear on he dressed us in our normal, everyday, conservative outfits. I guess it’s more fun to despoil and degrade us when we look like normal people.

He led us out to his car and before I forgot I thanked him for the money and handed him a key to our apartment. It wasn’t until I heard the words coming from my mouth that I realized how bizarre it was that I’m thanking the man who raped my daughter and me and is treating us like sex slaves.

We all got into the front seat of his Government sedan and he took off. Before we drove a block he reached up over his visor and handed us each a blindfold and ordered us to put them on. That seemed a bit sinister but it wasn’t a request.

After we were blindfolded Heather gasped loudly and I felt her move suddenly beside me. I assumed his hand was where it shouldn’t be. I didn’t say anything. He doesn’t care what I have to say and it wasn’t unexpected. He seems to think my daughter’s crotch is his handrest.

He told us that we’re going to a party. It’s a party he puts on for a group of friends fairly regularly in order to stay on their good side. He normally takes a girl or two to the party but this is going to be the first time he has taken a girl this young, or a beautiful mother-daughter. Calling us beautiful doesn’t make up for pimping us out to his friends.

He warned us his friends get a little rough sometimes. But he assured us no one would get hurt as long as we did as we were told. All we have to do is to be friendly and say yes to everything. The guys at the party all have to work in the morning so he didn’t think the party would go much past midnight.

I thought to myself, “What a relief! They are only going to gang rape my daughter and me for the next eight hours. We are so lucky!”

Mr. Kent finally pulled up into a driveway and told us to take off the blindfolds. We all got out and headed for the gate on the side of the house leading into the backyard. I looked around and saw that there are other houses on the street but none of them are nearby. We aren’t in a subdivision. We’re somewhere outside of the town limits in a more rural area.

I hear music and loud conversation coming from the back of the house. There are about a dozen cars parked around, in the driveway and on the side of the road. It seems obvious this is going to be a much more difficult experience than our time spent in the studio. Mr. Kent opened the gate and I heard several people call out, “Hey! Clark is here with the entertainment!”

Now I know Mr. Kent’s first name. Somehow I don’t think that I’ll ever get to use it, not that I’ve had a burning desire to. There are things I much prefer to call him. We followed him into the backyard and he closed the gate behind us. There seem to be about fifteen men in and around a large pool. They range in age from mid-twenties to mid-fifties. They have apparently been here for a while. Some of them are pretty loud. I assume they’ve been drinking all afternoon.

We were led onto the patio near the pool and after everyone was quiet we were introduced by our first names as a mother and her horny little daughter. I suppose that, as skeptical as they might normally have been, it must have been obvious that we are a mother and daughter. We resemble each other strongly.

It must also be obvious from our expressions we’re not willing participants. But if there’s anyone in the crowd who is sympathetic to our plight they hid it well.

We were soon surrounded by horny men and passed around like a joint at a Grateful Dead concert.

As we were passed from man to man our outer clothing was quickly removed. We were left in our new underwear for a while and pawed by all of the men. Once they’d all seen us in our sexy new underwear we were relieved of that, too.

The man who is apparently the homeowner and host came around and pulled us free of our group gropes. He led us to tables and helped us climb up. On command we danced like strippers for a while, or what we imagined to be the way strippers dance. We’ve never seen a stripper dance so we had to use our imaginations. While we danced the men gathered around, moving back and forth between our two tables and pressing in close enough to run their hands over our bodies. For the entire time we pranced around on those tables, hands were constantly sliding up our thighs or over a butt cheek, or some guy would slip a finger into our tight, wet pussy.

The dancing went on for only half an hour or so. As I danced I began to recognize a couple of guys in the crowd after I stopped being so wrapped up in my own troubles and began looking around. I suddenly realized that these guys were all cops! The first man that I recognized was the one who drove me to the station the night that I was arrested. Now I knew that these men must know who we are. They must know how old my daughter is. No one seems to object.

My daughter and I are being fed to the cops to keep them happy and protect Mr. Kent from any police problems! Oh well, just another shovel of dirt on my grave.

The guys soon decided they’d had enough teasing and my daughter and I were pulled down from our tables and carried to a couple of lounge chair cushions laid out on the grass. We were placed on our hands and knees and the parade started. We both had cocks invading our bodies from both ends for nearly two hours after that.

When all the men were sated we were allowed to clean up a little under the outdoor shower and we were given something to drink. Then we circulated through the crowd, allowing anyone to do anything they wished to us until someone else wanted to have sex with one or sometimes both of us.

At one point I heard the cop I recognized telling a couple of the others about us. There could be no question now that they know who we are. They know we aren’t sluts or whores. They have to know we aren’t doing this of our own free will and by now all of them must know how old Heather is. And these men are cops!

I’m not even sure how long we were there before they made us put on a little show for them. It was about halfway through the evening I guess. We didn’t have orgasms. We were too tired and sore by then. But we did what they wanted.

There was another round of rapes after our show. It was worse this time. They were all very drunk and they had all raped us at least once already. Some of them had raped us several times. They lasted much longer this time and it was getting very painful.

There was almost no sex in the last hour or two. Well, there were some drunks who tried. But all they got was tired. The party finally started breaking up and all of those too drunk to drive cops started getting in their cars and leaving.

Once they were done with us the host pulled a couple of large trash cans onto the patio. With cum dripping down our thighs, Heather and I cleaned up the mess on the patio. Then we did the dishes.

When our chores were done the host woke up Mr. Kent who was napping in one of the bedrooms. We were cleaned up again and given a towel to sit on. We put the blindfolds back on and we were driven home. I had left my purse in the car while we were at the party. It turned out to be a smart move on my part. All our clothing had disappeared. I guess those drunken cops wanted souvenirs.

Mr. Kent pulled up to the door of our building and let us out, in the nude. We rushed to our door but thankfully it was almost three o’clock Monday morning and as far as I could tell no one saw us.

Heather and I took a long, hot shower together and washed each other’s hair and back. It had been a very long night. But the guys, though exuberant, were not overly rough and not especially kinky. It was just a lot of enthusiastic fucking and sucking.

I suppose they didn’t want anyone to have any evidence of the activities which took place at their party because I didn’t see a camera anywhere.

The next morning the alarm must have thought I was dead. It had been buzzing for nearly fifteen minutes before I heard it. I got up and went to Heather’s room. She was still sleeping, too. I woke her up. We both need to take another shower just to wake up. I got her breakfast ready while she showered and dressed and then I took a quick shower. I came out in time to see Heather going to school wearing one of those tiny miniskirts Mr. Kent bought for us. I tried to stop her but she was out the door and gone before what I was seeing had time to sink in.

“Oh well,” I thought. “What does it matter at this stage in our fucked-up lives?”

I gathered my things, locked the apartment and went to work. On the drive to work I remembered what Mr. Kent told me I had to do. I had to volunteer to take care of that grabby old man I made the mistake of telling him about.

For the first hour or hour and a half of the morning I tried to think of some way to ask my supervisor, Mrs. Thomas, if I could resume being the caregiver for Mr. Packard. I couldn’t think of any plausible excuse for putting myself in his grasp again.

My dilemma was solved, however, when Mrs. Thomas came to me with a problem. It seems there are no male nurses scheduled for today or for the rest of this week in fact. There’s a chronic shortage of male nurses and they’re often put on the night shift when they’re available at all.

It seems Mr. Packard has been insisting I be assigned back to his care. I sighed and said I’d be happy to resume caring for him. I lied to Mrs. Thomas. I said he hadn’t been that bad and I felt guilty for complaining.

Mrs. Thomas looked at me skeptically but she’s desperate. She was so relieved when I agreed to take care of Mr. Packard I almost felt good about it.

The good feelings couldn’t stand up to reality. After I knocked on his door I stood there wondering what it would be like now that I couldn’t resist his advances the good feeling dissipated rapidly. I knew that I had to let him do anything he wants to me now. There was no doubt in my mind that Mr. Kent would be checking on me.

He told me to come in and I stepped inside and closed the door. A cold shiver of fear and loathing ran through my body as I stepped into his room. I tried to smile as I crossed the room to say good morning to him.

He leered at me and said, “I knew you’d be back! I knew you couldn’t stay away!”

As soon as I leaned over to help him sit up his hand went to my breasts.

The horny old fart noticed the difference right away when I didn’t try to fend off his gnarled old hands. He squeezed my breast for a moment before reaching for my zipper and pulling it down. By the time I got him on his feet and half carried him to his shower he had my uniform unzipped below my waist. His hands were freely exploring my bare breasts and dipping down to my pussy.

He cackled, a sound that made my skin crawl, and he said exuberantly, “I knew you wanted me, you nasty cunt. You fuckin’ whore! All you fuckin’ cunts are fuckin’ whores!”

He may have been surprisingly healthy for a man his age. But his mind isn’t all there. You couldn’t take the old fart out in public. To listen to him you’d swear the dirty old man has Tourette Syndrome.

He ranted and raved as his hands crawled over my body like spiders. The obscenities poured out of him as I half carried, half dragged him to his small bathroom. It went on and on. It was extremely disgusting.

I finally helped him into his shower and started to back away so he could shower. Instead, he ordered me to finish taking my dress off and get in and wash him. I stared at him, partly in exasperation, partly in shock because that nasty old man actually has a hard-on!

I tried to remember exactly what Mr. Kent said to me and how far I had to let this go. Unfortunately, I distinctly remembered Mr. Kent ordering me to allow Mr. Packard, “Any and all liberties.”

So, I guess I have to do what this nasty old man is demanding. I don’t dare refuse. Mr. Kent told me he’s going to speak with Mr. Packard every time he drops by the Home to interview my supervisor from now on.

I finished unzipping my dress. I removed it and leaned out of the small bathroom and draped it over the back of his chair. Then I steeled my nerves and joined that dirty old man in the shower stall.

Before I could even turn the water on he was all over me. He pawed me with his bent and twisted old hands. He leaned against me and gnawed on my nipples with his gums before he pushed me to my knees and forced me to take his cock into my mouth.

It shocked me that this old man could even get a hard on. But I was even more surprised when, in a surprisingly short time he deposited a stream of thin, watery, extremely bitter fluid in my mouth.

I gagged on it, even though I haven’t gagged on a mouthful of cum in days. It was horrible. I finally stood up as he leaned back against the wall of the shower. I wanted nothing more than to run from him, to get the hell out of there and never come back. Instead, I turned the water on and helped him shower.

When he was clean I helped him dry off. His hands continued to play freely over my body as I worked.

It had been horrible. Every moment of it was a nightmare. I had obviously made a very old man extremely happy but I wasn’t proud of it.

I helped him to dress and put him in his chair. I was still panting from the exertion as I stood out of his reach and put my uniform back on. As I left he cackled and said, “Not bad, nurse. See you tomorrow.”

I left his room and closed the door. I leaned back against it and took a series of long, deep breaths. I only have to shower him three days a week but I’m going to have to help him get up and get dressed five days a week. I don’t know how much more of this I can take! I suppose I should take what small comfort I can from the knowledge that some other poor soul has to help him get ready for bed at night.

As I stood there contemplating the indignities I had just suffered at the hands of Mr. Packard I suddenly remembered I still have to make nice with Mr. Devon as well. I just know that will be even worse. That man hates me.

I feel like screaming! It doesn’t make sense. I’m the victim in this horrible miscarriage of justice. Thanks to that groping pervert my life and my daughter’s life are in shambles. We have both been raped repeatedly and we have years of rape and humiliation to look forward to. It makes no sense that he hates me. But he does. I see it in his eyes every time I look at him.

The rest of the day was pretty easy. After putting up with Mr. Packard nothing else that happened could be as unpleasant. Every time I saw Mrs. Thomas she thanked me for doing it. She was so grateful it was almost worth it. Almost, but not quite.

After work I rushed home. I worry a lot about Heather being home alone in that part of town. I worry even more now that Mr. Kent has a key to my front door.

I was crossing the parking lot in front of my apartment building when I ran into Mr. Devon. We’re both heading for the front door at the same time. He glowered at me as usual. I swallowed my true feelings for that despicable human being and tried smiling at him. I asked him if I could talk to him for a moment.

He didn’t expect that. He paused to hear what I had to say. I really don’t know what I’m going to say. I just found out I have to do this yesterday. I haven’t given much thought to what I was going to say to him.

“Mr. Devon,” I said, as sincerely as possible. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you that night. I can’t even explain what was going through my mind. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you. If you’ll let me I’d like to make it up to you.”

He looked at me warily. He’s obviously trying to figure out what kind of trick I’m trying to pull. After a long, uncomfortable pause he asked skeptically, “How do you propose to make that up to me?”

The prick! Even though we’re standing all alone with no one nearby to overhear our conversation he still sounds like the innocent victim of an assault!

I didn’t want to come right out and say, “Want to fuck?”

Instead, I edged closer, gave him a coy look and as seductively as I could I asked, “Why don’t you come to my apartment one evening this week? I’m sure we can think of something I can do to make you feel better.”

Having to cozy up to this son of a bitch this way is making me ill. But I’m no longer the boss of me.

Mr. Devon is a morbidly obese, ugly old man. He’s probably my grandfather’s age. He couldn’t possibly believe I’m attracted to him. In fact, I think he’s disgusting and I’ve never made any effort to hide my feelings from him. My feelings about him aren’t based so much on his appearance, but on his personality and the way he always ogles me. Not to mention the fact that he groped me on the stairs that day and got me in all this trouble to start with.

Oh wait! I did mention it, didn’t I?

Mr. Devon continued to stare at me skeptically for a moment, still trying to decide what kind of trick I’m pulling. I guess the chance to be with an attractive, sexy, young woman in her twenties was too good to pass up, though. He looked at his watch and said, “Okay. How about right now?”

When I made the offer it was for some unspecified time in the future. The immediacy of “right now” kind of took my breath away. But this has already been a sucky day. Why the hell not?

I nodded my head and he followed me to my apartment. This time his hand was on my ass all of the way up the stairs.

I unlocked the door, totally forgetting about Heather being nude at the kitchen table doing her homework. She looked up as he pushed in behind me and they saw each other at the same time. I saw his eyes light up as he watched her squeak in surprise and run out of the room. His eyes followed her all the way down the hall to her room.

He leered at me and said, “Cute kid.”

I just nodded. I shut the door and then, much to his surprise, I started undressing right by the door. No games, no playing coy. I just undressed in front of him and then I stood there as he moved his pudgy hands over me, roughly groping and exploring my body.

He kept his eyes glued to my body as he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” I said. “I feel bad about what happened and I want to make it up to you. I want you to stop being mad at me.”

I don’t suppose he really cares, beyond not believing his luck and not understanding why any woman in her right mind would come on to him.

After a few minutes exploring my body he asked, “Where do you want to do this?”

I don’t want this slug in my bed. “How about right here, Mr. Devon?”

“What about your little girl?” he asked.

“She’ll stay in her room.”

He grinned evilly and said, “That’s a shame.”

Apparently there’s a lot of Mr. Kent in Mr. Devon. I left that comment alone. I pulled him over to the couch and helped him pull his pants and shorts off. The first thing I noticed was that he has a terrible, sour smell polluting the air around him. He doesn’t look dirty. But he smells like he hasn’t bathed in days!

I invited him to sit on the couch. I stood near his legs and leaned over and played with his hard cock. I hoped that I might get away with sitting on it, riding it for a few minutes and then pushing him out of here. But he’s slowly gaining confidence, thanks no doubt to my submissive behavior, and he’s beginning to take control.

He doesn’t know why I’m doing this but he somehow realizes that, for whatever reason, he’s now in control. He spread his legs and ordered me to suck on his cock. He didn’t ask or suggest. He gave an order. This is getting out of hand but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to please him in order to satisfy my parole officer.

I knelt between his legs. The sour odor of an unwashed body, even from more than a foot away, is just about enough to make me vomit. I took a deep breath, leaned forward and took his cock into my mouth. I sucked his cock down my throat, but not far. His cock is only a little over five inches long. The entire thing almost fit in my mouth.

As much as possible I breathed through my mouth while I sucked his nasty cock. I was relieved when he came quickly. To my dismay, though, I quickly discovered his cum is a lot like Mr. Packard’s. It’s thin and watery and very, very bitter. There’s much more of it, though, and I nearly threw up again as I forced it down my throat.

I sat back up quickly, forced a timid smile and asked, “Are we even now, Mr. Devon?”

He’s breathing deeply and staring at me in awe. But as soon as he recovered, a scheming look came over his face like a mask and he said, “I don’t know. I was in an awful lot of pain for a very long time. I fell all the way down those damn stairs because of what you did! I think if I was to come back here one day this week and you fucked me, then we’d be even.”

I smiled submissively and responded, “If that’s what it takes, Mr. Devon. When would you like to come back?”

He thought about it for a moment and said, “I’ll have to see when I can get away from my wife. I’ll let you know.”

I helped him pull his pants back on and escorted him to my door. As he was leaving he said, “Give that cute little girl of yours a kiss for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you revolting old pervert!

As soon as he was gone I sat on the couch and cried my eyes out for a few minutes. I felt Heather sit down beside me and put her arms around me. She held me as if she’s the parent in our relationship and I was very grateful. I needed someone to lean on at that moment.

It took me several minutes but I finally pulled myself together and said, “I have to brush my teeth. Go finish your homework and I’ll start supper. And thanks, sweetie.”

She flashed me a sympathetic smile and went to the kitchen. I watched her cute butt crossing the room and I felt so sad for her. When she was much younger I promised myself she would have the childhood I never could. Instead, she has this!

I made a simple supper this evening. More like one of our normal meals. After we ate we sat around and talked a little more about our new lives while we ate a small dish of ice cream. She asked about my day but I didn’t want to burden her any more than I already have. I smiled wryly and said, “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

She smiled sardonically and asked, “Do you have someone else you can get this off your chest with?”

I looked at her. She’s obviously wise way beyond her years. I asked, “Don’t you think it will make things that much harder for you if you’re my crying towel in the evening?”

“You have to have someone to talk to when you come home. You can’t keep it all bottled up inside of you. You’ll go even crazier! I have you when I need to talk. You have me. I don’t mind, mom. You’re always there for me.”

I sighed and told her all about my horrible morning with Mr. Packard. She grinned when I was done and said, “Those horny old guys never get over the desire for a little young stuff, do they?!”

“Heather!”

But then I smiled. I suppose she’s right. All the men who are abusing us are older, usually much older. I suppose what Mr. Kent said earlier about youth being sexy was the truth. Even I recognize it in my daughter. Her freshness and her youth are exciting. If only I could have done a better job of protecting those wonderful qualities.

We cleaned up the kitchen and went in and sat down to watch a little television on our little old set. We can’t afford cable of course so we’re only able to receive the local stations on the rabbit ears.

We were watching television and had just about gotten used to being naked when I heard the sound of our door being unlocked. I looked up just as Mr. Kent came in, accompanied by another man, yet another man I’ve never seen before who can only have come here to have sex with us.

We stood up and I turned the television off. We waited to see what’s going to happen. Well, we know what they’re here for. Mr. Kent only comes here with one thing in mind. We’re just waiting to be told what to do.

There were no introductions. The men sat down on the couch. I doubt if Mr. Kent’s friend’s eyes could have gotten any bigger.

Mr. Kent ordered me to fetch two beers. When I returned, Heather was in the stranger’s lap being pawed. He has one hand on one of her tits and the other burrowing in her crotch. But at least he doesn’t appear to be too rough on her for a change. Not like some of the cops at the party to which Mr. Kent delivered us. This man is obviously in awe of Heather.

I handed one beer to Mr. Kent and held the other man’s beer while he pawed my daughter. Mr. Kent took the other beer from me and said, “Let her up for a few minutes. You’ll love this.”

The stranger reluctantly removed his hands from Heather’s body and gently helped her from his lap. He took his beer from Mr. Kent and waited to see what’s going to be better than actually having his hands on a thirteen year old girl.

They sat back and got comfortable and Heather and I were ordered to lie down on the rug and put on a show.

We’ve been forced to have sex several times in the last week. Neither of us is bi, at least as far as I know. And the very idea of it is disgusting to both of us, especially because in our case when we have sex it’s incest. For some reason, though, these perverts seem to take extra pleasure from making us do it because she’s my daughter.

We came together and hugged and kissed for a minute before we went to the floor and started making out. Quietly in the background I could hear Mr. Kent’s friend exclaiming breathlessly, “Holy shit!” and “Son of a bitch!” and “Would you look at that! Clark, you’re one lucky cocksucker!”

Mr. Kent never said a word. He just basked in the glow of this kinky bastard’s adulation.

Heather and I kissed and touched and then moved into a sixty-nine. For some reason it seemed to feel better than it did on those previous occasions. Before very long I found myself having a real orgasm, not faking it like I normally do.

Heather realized I was having an honest to god orgasm and I guess it turned her on. Or maybe it just gave her permission. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t much longer before I realized she was enjoying a real orgasm as well.

Of course, I could have been wrong. But I was almost certain she wasn’t faking, either. The way she shivered and her sweet young pussy clamped down on my tongue and gripped it tightly when she was having her orgasm were pretty convincing.

We kept going and the men watched us for a few minutes longer. But it wasn’t much longer before I heard the two men standing up and getting undressed. Mr. Kent came over to us and made us get up on our hands and knees, side by side, facing in the same direction.

The men got to their knees Mr. Kent in front of me and his guest behind me. First they inserted their hard cocks in my pussy and my mouth at the same time. They stroked in and out for a minute or two. Then they moved over to Heather and did the same thing while I remained there on my knees, panting and hating myself for getting my daughter into something as sordid as this.

They moved back and forth every few minutes, Mr. Kent was always in our mouths and driving his cock into my throat. He tried a couple of times to drive it down Heather’s throat but she’s just too small and he’s much too large. He finally settled for letting her suck on as much of his cock as she could get in her mouth.

His friend was behind us, moving back and forth, alternating between our pussies. As they enjoyed our various orifices they talked over our backs about the relative merits of our pussies and our cocksucking abilities.

I really wanted to bite the arrogant cocksucker’s god damned cock right off.

Oh my! That was a whole string of words I never used before a week ago!

They moved back and forth several times and then they traded places. Now the new man was shoving his cock into my throat and fucking my face before moving over and doing the same thing to Heather. He apparently didn’t realize she hasn’t done it before and, driven by lust he wasn’t very gentle.

Fortunately, he isn’t that well hung, average I suppose. His cock is about six inches long and not much bigger around than my thumb. After struggling with it for a moment, Heather surprised me when she managed to tolerate it in her throat. My thirteen-year-old daughter is giving some old fart a deepthroat blowjob! She seems as surprised as I am.

I just want to scream! I had no idea so many men could be so evil, so corrupt! I guess, considering how I got pregnant, maybe I should have been more suspicious of men in general. Lately it seems like every male I come into contact with is a monster.

As they fucked us like that, the new man said it’s a shame they can’t fuck all three holes. He was almost begging when he told Mr. Kent how much he’d like to try fucking our perfect little asses.

Mr. Kent assured him, “Just be patient. I have something special planned for them. The next time you come over you can fuck any hole you want. Or all three holes, whatever turns you on.”