A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter 28

“Hunky”, he replied, that being the first thing that came into his head looking at the photo Patricia had thrust at him. “Not bad looking either as guys go. Twins, I’d assume?”

“No prizes for guessing that one”, his wife snorted. “Identical twins, although Auntie over there tells me that one of them, the older by about five minutes, is about a half-inch taller than the other, not that you’d notice that, of course!”

“Nor you”, he retorted, still examining the photo. Two beefy young guys wearing American football kit and holding their helmets in their hands, smiling at the camera with those perfect gleaming white teeth all the US seems to have. Perfect teeth far better than those of citizens in other countries. That, of course, ignores the fact that the rest of the developed world might not gleam quite so much, but that’s mainly because everyone has more of their own, maybe yellowing teeth and not a mouthful of crowns and implants!

He returned the photo and looked over to the couch near the windows where Auntie was draped over one arm, sobbing quietly. A  fresh series of stripes decorating her bottom, red and purple raised wheals of tortured flesh, and the cane that had done the damage was now innocently lying on the nearby coffee table. He looked from the sobbing woman to the cane and then back to his wife. Patricia was sitting at the writing desk, going through various papers, presumably from the somewhat worn old brown shoulder bag lying nearby.

“So what gives and what is all that stuff?”

Patricia flashed him a smile. “Just a wild idea, Honey. Maybe something and maybe nothing. We’ll see. You remember your little confession the other night after you’d fucked me for the second time. You were excellent, you know, no sign of losing it yet, even if you are starting to thin out a little more up top,” she giggled. 

He scowled at her. Pleased as he was by the compliment regarding his virility, that small hairless patch on his crown was a very touchy subject for him. His hair was thinning, but fortunately, it wasn’t very noticeable unless you shared a bed with someone who liked to grab handfuls of your hair as you rammed your cock hard into her eager pussy. Maybe it was her fault!

“What about it” he growled.

Patricia laughed. “Oh my, grumpy Mister Sourpuss today, aren’t we? As I recall, we had a nice long pillow talk before my fingers brought you back to life. You can’t have forgotten; I meant the subject of our little chat, not the other thing,” she added quickly, noting his expression. “I mean, it’s been a while since we had one of those chats all cosy and cuddled together”.

“Hmmm,” he reflected. No, he hadn’t forgotten, for she was quite correct. It had been a long time since they’d done that. Real husband and wife stuff, as Patricia sometimes referred to it, and she didn’t just mean the sexual part. He grinned at the memory.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Doh!” his wife snapped in exasperation. “Not well what? What were we talking about before one of us got all randy again?”

He was tempted to point out who’d been responsible for him getting randy again and hadn’t been the least bit slow in climbing on top of him and riding herself to another orgasm. He refrained from doing so because he knew his wife far too well and her temperament, at times, somewhat mercurial. Auntie was still sobbing softly, and the other arm of the sofa was free, and he’d no desire to end up playing bookends if his wife exploded. What had the little bitch done to irritate her, he wondered, but then half the time Patricia never needed an excuse, did she nor her damn daughters!

“Cows”, he replied. “You were telling me what young Heather had told you about your friend Margret’s trip to France” he screwed his face up, trying to recall what she’d said. He hadn’t been all that interested at the time, cows or ponies neither was his thing, and her fingers had been so teasing.

“And?” she looked up at him, adding, “as I recall, when I talked about adding another dimension to my little empire, you had some ambitions of your own, did you not?” she tapped the photo in front of her.

His eyes widened. Jeez, was she kidding him? No, he realised immediately she wasn’t. The bitch was deadly serious. Jeezzzz with a shit load of z’s. His eyes flickered to the two smiling hunks and then back to his wife. Jeez!

“Well?”

He shrugged. “As I recall, I was teasing….”

“Nope, I’d call it complaining!” she interrupted. “At least it sounded like you were complaining and sounding a bit peeved, Honey”.

“Oh, alright”, he conceded. “You were being so, so smug and pleased about the prospect of getting your hands on Mumsie again, and now with Auntie having your own little harem and then getting all gushy and excited talking about”, he paused and chuckled. “Going into the dairy business or your perverted variant”, he concluded. “So what did you expect me to say? I merely sort of happened to mention a fantasy of my own. Kinda wishful thinking. No big deal, and then you know what happened next!”

His wife smiled at him. “Yes, Pet. The next was pretty damn good. I do recall that. Not bad at all, considering it was your third shot of the evening. There is plenty of life left in the old dog, even if I insisted you take a pill just in case!”

He scowled at that. Another bloody reminder that every passing day meant he wasn’t quite the man he’d been yesterday. That, of course, happened to everybody, but he frequently wondered what that would mean for him in the long term. He was only too aware that the marital bond between him and Patricia was firmly rooted in the physical union between them rather than an emotional one. The questioning look on her face quickly returned his thoughts to the present.

“I’d been talking about Girlie”, he recalled. “I mean, the sissy little bitch is a great piece of pussy between the sheets or out of them, come to that. Best I’ve ever had,” he conceded but sometimes,” he shrugged.

“I know, Honey. I got where you were coming from, and I hadn’t forgotten. They say variety is the spice of life. Girlie is the best we’ve had but a trifle disappointing in how quickly she caved in, as I recall that first evening and started begging for cock. As you say, she’s a good responsive fuck bunny. The mood took me for something a little different the other week when you were playing golf. I sent her to fetch my strap-on and bent her over that same arm Auntie is presently keeping warm for a quickie. My, you’d have thought it was little bitches first time from the way she squealed!”

Patricia turned to look at her most recent victim with a thoughtful look. ”Thinking about that little session is making me horny. Maybe I should send Auntie to fetch the same and then resume that position!”

He grinned. “Ditto or what that Fench term, Deja Vous or something like that. It means…”

“I know what it means”, his wife interrupted him with a sweetly insincere smile. “One of us does have some educational qualifications remember, and doesn’t have a fondness for tabloid newspapers, especially those tailored for those at the lower end of the human evolutionary scale!”

He thought a bit below the belt, especially coming from someone who never even read a newspaper nor seemed interested in TV or any other form of news. Not unless Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Hello magazines catered for such, which he doubted. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Anyway, he also liked his CNN and BBC news coverage. He grunted and defended himself. “I only read them for the football, not all that boring, stupid Royal family and gossipy showbiz garbage! Anyway, you're losing me fast, woman. What about that photo you keep tapping?”

Patricia sighed and promptly tapped it again. “Tell me what you see, Honey?”

He sighed. He’d been absently eyeing Auntie’s naked stripped backside so readily available with her tight little anus ring winking at him so temptingly. He wasn’t the least bit tempted, not that he would have said no had it been the last thing available, but his wife would not allow it. The only cock her bitches were allowed was the one she strapped to her groin. She did serve as a reminder that he had a far more tempting alternative presently employed in washing dishes in the kitchen in the cute form of the woman's nephew. His wife's dirty talk had made him randy, and why wait when there was a convenient remedy for that little problem near to hand? Not so little either, he grinned and then became aware of the irritated look his wife was giving him.

“What? Oh, that photo.” He glanced down at it again and shrugged. “Just a couple of kids, late teens maybe wearing Yankee football clobber,” he said, the latter somewhat dismissively never having harboured an interest in British games played with an oval-shaped ball and even less in a foreign one. What about it?”

Patricia smiled in a way that sent shivers running up and down his spine. He knew that smile only too well and probably feared it almost as much as her varied human livestock did when she flashed it at them. He looked at the two hunky boys in the picture and recalled what they’d said earlier. No way!

“All this crap belongs to my sexy little bed bunny over there” His wife gestured to the items strewn across the desk and the brown bag. “I went through it at the time and meant to incinerate it as I did with all her other stuff, but somehow it got overlooked. She turned the photo over and pushed it towards him. Billy J and Bobby R, Wilson High, September 2013 was neatly written in blue ink.

Patricia smiled. “I brought the bag down and was going through it before chucking it out for burning when the photo caught my eye, so” she nodded towards the softly sobbing figure behind them. “Auntie and I had a little chat. She seemed a bit reluctant at first, but as you know, I can be very persuasive!”

He looked over at the cane. Yeah, very persuasive, and if the cane didn’t work, then a little or maybe not so little refresher session downstairs in that god-awful playroom of hers would loosen the most recalcitrant of tongues. Patricia was very good at loosening tongues and in more ways than one!

He began to get the first inkling of her thoughts, his eyes widening as he glanced again at the photo, and it was a real one, he noted or maybe one that had been printed on the proper sort of glossy paper. “Ten years ago almost”, he mused and added, “So who are they?”

“Guess”, Patricia jerked a thumb backwards and quickly added, watching his face. “Nope, not that. She’s only dropped Eva’s Patootie. Those two good-looking young hunks are her stepsons from her second marriage. Younger than they look back then when that picture was taken but big boys, and from what she told me, even bigger boys now. Twenty-four.  Here take a decko at this one.”

He took another picture from her: much lower quality and a little scuffed but the same two guys, now older beaming at the camera. One was bearded and the other clean-shaven, but you could see they were twins despite that. They were wearing identical suits with large flowery buttonholes and holding champagne glasses. A wedding picture, perhaps of theirs, but no, they had that sort of ‘guest’ look about them. Friends of the groom, probably. Jeez, how they filled out those suits, sheesh, talk about hunky! He recalled his fantasy of owing another sissy but something different from Girlie's feminine submissiveness. Wow, imagine one of those young macho brutes, lingerie-clad and helplessly awaiting his masters' pleasure. His cock sprang into life at the thought!

“Notice anything odd?”

He looked hard, wondering what she meant. Odd?

“Hands, Honey, hands”.

He looked again but shook his head. They were both holding champagne flutes, so what. Nothing unusual about that if they were attending a wedding reception. He looked and shook his head again. His wife had a keen eye for detail and anything out of the ordinary. Madam Hawkeye could spot a speck of dust at twenty paces, as Girlie and his aunt had painfully discovered.

Patricia snorted, half in amusement, half in contempt. “What did your mother teach you when you were young about crossing the road, dumbo!”

He gaped at her. Mother, crossing the road? Then it hit him, looking both ways, right and left and the hands! “Holding their glasses in different hands, one must be left-handed. What of it?”

She shrugged and tapped the twin in question. “I just thought it was interesting, and didn’t I read somewhere that left-handed men frequently have a little more to offer a girl than their right-handed counterparts.”

“I’ve never heard that. Sounds like an old wives' tale. Anyway, I’m not left-handed, am I? he grinned lecherously.

“You’re just a freak! Pull up a chair, and let's have a little chat. Speculative, but then who knows!

*****

“Well, I’ve heard of keeping it in the family”, Heather laughed, pulling a strap tight. “But that’s beginning to border on the ridiculous! How on earth is your mother going to pull that one off!”

Alice shook her head. “No idea. I mean, acquiring the original five wasn’t hard. They just fell right into our hands, more or less. Grabbing that over-inquisitive animal,” she nodded towards Patootie, wasn’t all that difficult either, plus it killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. Who knows what trouble the silly bitch might have caused if I hadn’t acted. Then Auntie followed mum blindly out of the airport arrivals and straight into her car. Of course, there was a certain amount of risk in every case but also pretty straightforward.”

Heather nodded. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” She patted Jezebel on the rump. “Nothing beats acquiring your own stock”, she chuckled, adding. “There is a unique sort of satisfaction, especially when they are trained by your own hand as well, and no, you know by now not to ask questions that I’m not going to answer!”

Alice grinned at her friend as the sound of a hard slap and a muted pony squeal caused her to pause. “Talking of family,” she laughed, nodding to where her younger sister was slowly tacking up Patootie. They’d both learned that offers to help were not appreciated. The animal belonged to Eva, and she was insanely jealous of any interference. Well, that would have to change soon, at least in one respect, Alice thought. She’d made a bargain with her sister, plus she was the one who’d captured the animal in the wild. The big filly was so far untouched in one respect despite Eva’s cruelty, and if the brat didn’t get a move on, Alice would take things into her own hands and ride the animal for that first time in her own lustful fashion! After all, a deal was a deal, and she’d been the one to take all the risks!

 “No idea,” Alice said, realising that Heather had asked a question while she’d been absently looking over at her sister. “Early days, so I’ve no idea how they’d go about it. I blame you for starting it all!”

Heather paused, buckle in one hand and strap in the other. “Me, why? What have I done?”

Alice laughed. “Well, maybe I’m equally to blame because I passed on what you told me and now, she’s all fired up about this dairy idea. I think she’s got her eye on one of those hunks as a stud bull. That’s assuming he’s up to it and possesses the right equipment, of course. Personally, I’d want to see and sample the goods first, but that might be a tad difficult and stop your giggling. I didn’t mean to sample it that way, bitch. I’ve got eyes and hands without resorting to getting up close and personal!”

Heather giggled again and resumed tacking up her mare. “What about the other one, the spare, or does she want two bulls?”

“Uh-huh!” Alice shook her head. “I think Dickbrain has his greedy eye on the other for some reason. Not exactly the sissy type he usually wants squealing on the end of his cock!”

“Maybe he fancies a change”, Heather laughed.

Alice’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her friend. “Maybe”, she muttered. Well, the bastard had helped himself to one recently, hadn’t he and without asking permission. Did he really think he could get away with bum fucking Fido without her knowing? Typical, the fucking lamebrain was also nominally supposed to be in charge of site security! Oh yeah, and the fucker didn’t even know where all the cameras were, or he’d forgotten. Likewise, the collars on the dogs and house slaves. The brain-dead fucker probably wasn’t carrying his cell phone, either. Didn’t he realise it would bleep when Fido passed a certain point just as hers had done? Now he wanted one of those beefcakes!

“Sorry,” she said, noticing the curious way Heather was looking at her; then she shrugged and ran a hand over Midnight's tightly corseted stomach. “I could find a far better use for one of them now old Midnight here has finally decided who’s boss, eh big boy?” she laughed as the huge animal jumped and squealed as her other gloved hand squeezed a giant testicle. “Opportunities to empty these are few and far between, aren’t they, boy, without me adding another big stallion to the stable!”

“Well, I wouldn’t advise allowing it too much slack or getting over easy with that brute any time soon,” Heather observed. “Not with that angry look in his eyes. I’ve seen more than a few broken and docile ponies, and that big beast certainly isn’t one of them!”

Alice grinned at her friend. “Don’t worry about that, Kiddo. I don’t do easy in any shape or form. I thought you knew that. She picked her crop up, took aim and swatted the exposed head of the stallion's sizeable cock, taking care to step back as he yelled into his bit and tried to leap about to help relieve the agony.

“Midnight is never going to experience ‘loose’ as you put it, not in any shape or form. No parole for this randy fucker. To think that this disgusting thing led him right into my web,” Alice chuckled as she lifted his cock with the end of her crop. “Did you really imagine I’d allow you to put that stupid dangler of yours into my sweet pussy, Big Boy? How foolish, and what a price you’re paying for that silliness now, animal!” Both Heather and Midnight knew from the expression on Alice’s face what would happen next, and it did, twice, making him dance once more!

“What's all the noise about” Eva enquired, leading Patootie to join them. “Midnight playing up again, is he?”

Heather giggled and winked. “More a case of Alice reminding him that playtime is off the menu just in case he was inclined to forget that little fact!”

Alice snorted. “Whatever this brute is inclined to do is irrelevant.” She smirked wickedly as the animal flinched back at the merest touch of her crop on his cock. “All that muscle and brawn and yet so helpless, eh boy? I’ll bet that’s even more frustrating than the urge to let this useless appendage squirt some love juice rather than pony piss for a change. Speaking of which I see and smell, I need to hose you down again before mounting you. Honestly, how long will it take for you to learn to piss in the dirt rather than down your dam legs!”

Heather shook her head. “Leave it till later. You’ll not get it on your breeches anyway, so why worry? Come on,” she took hold of Jezebel's bridle and led her out of the stable towards the mounting steps. Eva flicked her switch hard across Patooties well scarred, raw rump and pulled the filly along after her. Alice watched them go, then tapped Midnight on the thigh with her crop.

“Walk on, boy, walk on!” she smiled up at him. “How long is it since I gave you an enema? Quite a while since I stretched your belly, eh boy? I think we’ll have a nice little ride and then maybe spend the afternoon filling you up and teaching you how to piss in the dirt without getting all stinky”. She chuckled as the big animal flinched. “Then again, if I enjoy my ride, maybe something less messy will take my fancy. Come on, animal, walk on!”

*****

Two weeks, two whole weeks, that’s what the smelly bitch had said. Two weeks before, the younger sister collected her from these awful monsters. Mumsie was well aware that it would be a case of frying pan and fire, but of the two, the fire, although possibly hotter, was by far her preferred option. Not that she was likely to be given a choice in the matter.

Still, despite all the horrid memories of what that bitch Patricia had done to her, it would seem almost like a rescue, wouldn’t it, and she would be back with or at least near her family again. Mumsie’s eyes began to cloud at that point, so she hurriedly blinked back the tears that threatened to emerge. Experience had taught her that the inevitable flow was hard to stop once she allowed that dam wall to be breached.

Would her family still be there? Her husband, Sally and the two boys. That was another question that constantly troubled her, for the evil witch had so casually lent her out, hadn’t she? Loaned to the foul stinking sister in her filthy hovel as casually as you might lend an old paperback book to a friend or neighbour. Suppose the woman had done that to one or more of her family, loaning them out without a second thought about what she was doing! Or worse, she’d heard the evil woman talk of buying and selling, and she hadn’t been referring to stocks and shares!

Who would she lend them to and why, and, well, she could imagine the why! There seemed no limit to the perverted horrors these evil fiends casually inflicted on their hapless victims. Mumsie shivered. She’d suffered enough of them to have no illusions about the cruel depths of that. It might even be worse far worse than being loaned. Her own status seemed to be in doubt. Was she being returned permanently or merely while Miss Sinky was on her lengthy holiday?

‘Just a few weeks’, Patricia had told her sister that morning as she’d served the pair breakfast. A few weeks had been the very words her then Mistress had used to the foul woman she’d spent the previous night pleasuring with her mouth. Patricia had been emphatic about that, but she hadn’t seen that smug look on her sister’s face as she turned to her and ordered her to take the cafeteria and go and make more coffee.

Mumsie had seen that smirking arrogant look on the older sister’s face and instinctively knew then that the loan of her body and soul might be far longer than a few weeks. Why hadn’t she said something to her Mistress, if not there and then she’d had numerous opportunities later? Two reasons she knew had prevented her from doing that. One was simple fear for her Mistress was a terrible woman, a sadist of the first order and that terrible basement room! Even now, she shivered at that memory. She’d been fearful that it would have made the woman angry.

The second reason for not saying anything had been simple optimism. There seemed no hope of rescue and no chance of escaping, but if she went with the sister. Maybe she could attract some attention during the journey or later, wherever they ended up, might not there be an opportunity. The woman she’d gathered lived in a townhouse and on her own. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard to find an opportunity, even if it meant strangling the woman or smashing her head with a blunt instrument or, better still, a large axe!

Sadly, neither opportunity had become available, so here she still was, a slave, an unwilling bedmate to yet more perverted lesbian bitches. A Dykes toy, a reluctant tongue, a hapless receptacle for a range of dildos and phalluses that rarely brought the slightest pleasure. Humiliation and pain, yes. Enjoyment, no!

There was a scream from the adjoining room and then another, followed by a torrent of words. The original builders must have squandered most of their budget on the exterior wall, for the windows were set deep in the stone walls as though they were trying to emulate some second-rate medieval castle built by an impoverished Baron. Internally the heavy wooden doors seemed the only substantial fixtures for the interior walls might have been made of tent canvas. The partitioning walls seemed no thicker than the awful, faded flower wallpaper that covered them. No wonder the ugly old toad only needed that tiny handbell with its gentle tinkle to summon them no matter where they were in the house.

Mumsie didn’t speak German, so the words were meaningless, but the anguished terrified tone she understood perfectly. Likewise, the screams, the first two and then the second two that had followed that torrent of gasping words. That first scream had been one of pain and the second more from shock and indignation as no doubt a pudgy hand violated her young body. The words expressed both horror at what was happening to her and that overriding anger that never left you. An impotent rage that you soon learned to stifle and disguise as you smiled so sweetly at the bitch who was beating you lest a relatively mild chastisement turn savage! The second two screams mirrored the first two.

The girl would learn, as Mumsie had done, that resistance was futile and inevitably painful. You no longer owned your own body, and those that now did could use it as they wished. Another anguished scream sounded and seemed to hang in the air for a long time, making her shiver in sympathy. Pain, anger, humiliation, it was all there and something else, a first hint of hopeless despair perhaps! Well, the girl was young, wasn’t she, and no doubt would resist longer than she herself had done down in that…that cellar dungeon. She swallowed and shuddered at the memory of her days down there. A period that had ended when she crawled up that bed between her tormentor's long legs and paid homage with her mouth to her Mistress for the first time.

How many times had she performed that horrible act since she wondered and immediately pushed the thought aside? Far too many times and not once had it been the least bit pleasurable, not for her anyway. Another shudder ran through her as she stood stiffly upright, breasts proudly outthrust, hands on head, waiting silently and patiently like the good slave she’d become for whatever her mistress required.  

In this case, as per the past two nights, it was Miss Agnes’s body she would serve and strive to satisfy. Actually, there was no choice in the matter, for if the fat bitch weren’t satisfied, then life would not be very pleasant, and the horrors yet to come would continue until the foul bitch was satisfied. It would not be easy for the girl or woman, for that’s what she was despite her odious mother treating her like a perennial child. The bitch was in a semi-permanent sulk because her mother had evidently claimed the young German girl for her own exclusive use. Apart from mauling the poor girl, visiting privileges had been strictly denied to her foul daughter. Not that was anything to choose between…

“Yow! Clumthy wretch, you thilly boy, bend down!” That horrid lisping voice interrupted her thoughts.

The bitch had been seated in front of a shabby old dressing table, admiring her hideous reflection in a tarnished mirror. She was wearing nothing except a pink befrilled shortie nightdress while Wanker, naked apart from his ridiculous bloomers and heeled shoes, had been brushing her lacklustre hair. He’d looked about as happy as someone attempting to do the same to a sleeping Tiger, and that expression changed to pure terror at the woman's words. What had they done to him to reduce him to such a pitiful state, Mumsie wondered. So far, the gruesome pair had been awful, but neither they nor the other two women she’d served had reduced her to that grovelling, cringing state. Would that be her in a year or two? She shuddered again at that thought.

“You clumthy boy!” Miss Agnes jumped up and grasped the man by his ear, twisted it, making him squeal and marched him to the big bed. He was screaming and writhing a moment later as his already tender red raw backside endured another six from a cane. Maybe it was understandable how they’d reduced him to that state.

Nothing was restraining Mumsie, not a single strap or rope, nothing to prevent her from leaping to his aid. Oh, how she would have loved to have done that. To have snatched that length of bamboo from out of that pudgy hand and then flayed that big white quivering bottom that the abbreviated nightie failed to cover. Oh, if only!

She didn’t move, so Wanker continued to writhe and scream, and she knew what effect it would have on the bitch. She could hear what was going on next door, and as soon as the daughter had finished, it would be her turn once more on that old lumpy mattress, perhaps to receive what that owner of that squeaking plaintive Germanic voice was receiving, and there was not a thing she could or would do to prevent it.

Mumsie had tried twice before when they’d taken charge of her at the smelly bitch’s place. Unlike Miss Stinky, they’d granted her virtual freedom from the start, no restraints. Twice she’d tried, and twice she’d failed and suffered the consequences. They might both be fat and unfit, but they possessed reserves of strength she’d not expected, and her failure to overcome them and their resultant wrath had not proved pleasant. Better Wanker suffer alone rather than join him and experience something far worse.

Miss Agness tossed the cane aside, dragged Wanker upright, and thrust him across the room. “Corner, boy. Now. Hands-on head!” she snapped her fat fingers and then turned to look at Mumsie breathing heavily and only partly due to that recent violent exercise she’d given her right arm. One hand slid downwards, and several fat fingers burrowed into that unsightly tangle of wiry hair between her plump thighs. The pig-like deep-set eyes regarded her greedily, and her tongue slowly licked around those thin lips as she smirked at the woman before her. Then she raised her other hand and stabbed with one finger, first at her and then towards the bed.

Ironically at that moment, two English words this time but in that same accent penetrated the thin wall. “No, please…” the last one trailing off in an anguished groan of despair. Mumsie lowered her hands and walked toward the bed without a word. What would have been the point?