But why, why would he make up such a story. It just didn’t seem like him.
“Mort,” her tone changed to one of motherly indignation. “I don’t believe what you are saying. I’ve brought Tamera up to be a nice girl and I have no reason to doubt her just because you—you say so.”
“I think you had better have another drink, Carla.” McDonald shook his head slowly as though a great weight were on his shoulders. “I-I wanted to spare you this but… I guess I’ll have to show them to you.”
“Show me what?” Carla asked hurriedly, a slight catch rising in her throat. “Surely you don’t have any proof other than your word.”
“I took some pictures,” he admitted candidly.
“Y-You what?” the now visibly trembling young mother half shrieked. “Of… of Tamera and your son.”
“Yes, I did,” his seriousness changing slowly, almost imperceptibly to a thin lewd grin. “I wanted to make certain the girls didn’t cry rape afterwards and get the boys in trouble. Just a little precautionary measure.”
“W-Why that’s the most despicable thing I’ve ever heard of,” Carla retorted angrily. “I want you to get out of this house immediately, Mr. McDonald, and don’t bother coming back again.”
She rose from her seat, her face white and her body trembling from the horrible shock it had just received, but she immediately fell back again from the forgotten effects of the large quantity of alcohol she had consumed during the afternoon.
“There, there,” McDonald smilingly consoled. “No need to get all upset over the girls making out with the boys a little. As you said yourself, this young generation’s way ahead of us.”
“Mr. McDonald,” the still trembling young woman demanded and at the same time fought vainly against the alcohol daze spreading over her mind. “I asked you to leave!”
Eddie’s father’s smile slowly faded and an unmistakable coldness flickered into his eyes causing the distraught Carla to freeze momentarily as she sat.
“Not until you see the pictures, every one of them, and get it clear in your mind that my boy wasn’t the only one at fault. Your hot-pants’ed little daughter and her girlfriend were fucking, like two turned-on minks.”
“P-Please don’t use words like that,” Carla groaned, knowing that she was helpless to do anything if what he said was true. “I’ll look at the pictures, if—if you’ll promise to go afterwards.”
“No promises, Carla,” he smiled again, this time with a slight suggestive leer on his lips. “Let’s just play it by ear, shall we?”
She shook her head in abject assent, knowing full well she had absolutely no choice in the matter.
“That’s a good girl,” McDonald purred, “now get us another bottle and let’s fortify ourselves for the pictures we’ve got to go through, shall we?”
Carla rose obediently to her feet and staggering slightly made her way to the kitchen shelf for another bottle. After she had sat down again and poured them another drink in complete silence, McDonald reached in his pocket and pulled out the small packet of pictures, a triumphant and satisfied little smile curling across his lips.
“Now let’s get down to the nitty gritty,” he said and moved next to Carla so that his leg pressed tightly into her. She thought momentarily of moving but her liquor-numbed mind passed the thought away immediately. She didn’t want him to get angry again and besides she felt herself capable of handling him if he tried to get too fresh with her.
“Here’s the first little beauty,” she dimly heard McDonald say, his breath heavy with excitement of looking at the dirty pictures with the helpless young mother of his son’s hot little girlfriend.
“See, Eddie’s just going to ram his cock into her and she’s got her legs spread wide open just waiting for it.”
“Oh God no!” Carla moaned, clasping her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming as the lewdly spread body of her daughter, Tamera, passed before her eyes. Tears streamed helplessly down her cheeks. She could see the young girl’s eyes tightly closed in rising ecstasy as though she were actually wanting it to happen to her.
“And here’s where my boy throws it to her.” McDonald hissed excitedly. “He really fucks her good.”
“Please don’t use those words, Mr. McDonald.” Carla almost screamed.
It was bad enough having to look at the pictures, but to hear him describe what was happening to her own precious little daughter in such lewd and obscene words sickened her.
“Don’t call me, Mr. McDonald again,” he snapped at her, “and I’ll use any words I want to. If they’re fucking, they’re fucking and there’s no use calling it anything else.”
Tamara’s mother sobbed helplessly and forced herself to look at the prints. She knew there was no other way out so she might as well get it over with.
“Look at her hot little pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock in this one. Man, you can even see her cunt hairs, that zoom lens worked so well.”
“Oh God, Mort, please don’t make me go on. Just give me the pictures so I can destroy them and I won’t say another word.”
“It ain’t gonna be that easy, honey, if you know what I mean. I might need a little something to make it worth my while.”
“Blackmail!” Carla cried out. “All right, I’ll pay you somehow. I… don’t have much, but I’ll do it. I have to do it. How much? How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money from you, Carla.” McDonald chuckled. “No, I think that there’s better ways for you to pay the price for your daughter. Much better ways, don’t you agree?”
The hapless mother groaned softly, her insides tied in convulsive knots, for she knew exactly what the man across from her had in mind now, knew that he meant her to submit her body to him and work off the debt her child had caused, and the only question was regarding exactly what physical surrender on her part would satisfy him and make him agreeable.
“What… what do you want me to do?” she asked hesitantly.
“You’re a smart young woman, Carla.” McDonald stood up, his face beaming with lust, and she saw for the first time the full extent of his excitement and lecherous desire for her—the bulge of his hardened penis stretched the fabric of his pants almost to the breaking point, and a widening stain of his seminal emissions was plainly evident on the front, right where the throbbing head of his cock pressed against it. “I want you, baby,” he grinned lewdly. “Watching Eddie and your hot-cunted little daughter fucking last night got me damned hot, and I thought I’d lose my mind just taking those pictures. But not now, my dear; it’s going to be my turn, just you and me. And you’ll love it.”
“You… you must be insane,” she blurted.
McDonald laughed harshly. “We’ll see who’s insane in just a few moments.”
Carla felt her lips twist into a harsh, cynical smile as the galling truth of her position flooded her mind. She was being forced into submitting to this handsome but beastial man in exchange for saving the reputation of her child. She would, for Tamera’s sake, for her own life was over and Tamera’s was just beginning, and there was nothing that she wouldn’t have done to make Tamera’s future brighter and freer—even this. She became nauseated as she imagined the lewdly degrading sensation of young Eddie McDonald’s father’s cock buried deep up inside her defenseless vagina, for she was sure that was what was going to take place. She would love it, he’d said; she knew she would almost die from the humiliation of it all.
McDonald read the symptoms and forced another glass of brandy into her trembling hands. “And tomorrow, you’ll get the pictures. All of them, and nobody will be the wiser. Now, drink some more.”
She felt the liquor sear her throat as it spilled into her stomach with a warming sensation that slowly began to spread through her chilled blood. The big man was sitting beside her now, and had his intimately pressed arm around her; she could smell the heavy scent of his male excitement and then his hand tightened, his fingers toying with the tender flesh of one large, heaving breast that was hidden beneath the thinness of her blouse.
“You… you’d better give me another drink,” she heard herself say, and then the brandy once more glowed in her belly. Maybe if she drank enough it would be endurable… Dear God. She must force herself to remember that all this was to save her daughter’s future.
“Feeling better, Carla?” McDonald smiled lecherously, removing the glass from her hand and drawing her to him. The tormented young mother found courage from the burning alcohol coursing hotly through her blood stream and pleaded: “Oh, no. Oh; Lord no, not here, Mort.” She shuddered, looking around. “If anybody should come…”
McDonald, aware that little capitulations often help bring the final prize, murmured: “Fair enough. How about your bedroom?”
