"What?" Taylor screamed. "You told them what?"
Tim Stanton cringed. Taylor towered over him. She was naked, she was aroused, but wanton and wanting. Tim had had her for three days and she'd not come once with him. She'd been coddled close to the edge, escorted to the moment of delight but always the little shit left her wanting and empty, unfulfilled and desperate for that ecstatic relief that gave her respite.
The days since the initiation of her sister were a confusion of sensual delight and emotional confusion with a subtle but chaotic horror interposed just for texture. The Adult Club had fucked Taylor both in mouth and cunt through to the early morning hours of Sunday. Mr. G had appeared about five in the morning and released her from the clever bonds he'd tied Friday night, designed to be loosened every couple hours to let her body recover, then tightened back down so she could be restrained while being used. It was a function of both his skill with the rope but also Taylor's physical endurance that she'd remained tied all weekend. She'd been carried to the toilet like a slab of meat and done her business and then been cleaned and mopped only to return to the table to continue sucking cocks and having them shoved into her ravenous cunt that drooled and begged all on its own. When women licked and sucked at her, she writhed and came for them. When cocks rammed into her, she writhed and came for them. When she sucked cock and it spurted, she swallowed cum until she felt bloated and then she swallowed more.
By the time Mr. G released her, she was dazed but quivering with a heightened reaction to any touch to her body, cunt or lips but her muscles, once so finely tuned, had finally lost their resistance and she'd become lax, unable to respond when penetrated and her orgasms rippled through her body like sound waves through cotton, with barely any evidence to an observing eye. Yet still she climaxed, unable to resist her body's need. Released from her bonds, she lay on the now dank futon on the table letting her legs and arms twitch and jerk as they adjusted to obeying her conscious mind once more without restraint. Mr. G stood over her, a hand laying on her belly, talking and her mind comprehended but some of it.
He spoke to Tim Stanton.
"Make her love you, Tim. You love her, don't you?"
"God, Mr. G, yes, I adore Taylor Dillon." Tim husked, his voice rough with overwrought emotion.
"Take her to your house..."
"What about her parents?"
"Shut up, Tim and listen." Mr. G growled. Abashed, Tim nodded. "Take her to your house and give her a nice bath, clean her, inside and out and then take her to bed. Make love to her and then let her sleep. I'll arrive about five or so to take her home."
"Home? What? I thought I got her for two weeks?" Tim's whine made Taylor want to jump up and stick a finger down his throat just to make him gag so he'd feel what she was feeling. She was too physically exhausted to move and enact that violent wish so it just sat in her mind teasing her with her on incapacity.
"Tim, trust me. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, yes of course." Tim whispered.
"Then make sure Taylor is well rested and ready at five." Mr. G looked down at Taylor and she swore she could feel his eyes on her like a heating lamp, warming her, soothing her. She opened her eyes.
"But when do I get her back?" Tim asked, pulling Mr. G's dark eyes from her. Taylor hated Tim in that moment, for robbing her of that luscious pleasure of Mr. G's eyes on her naked body.
Mr. G looked back to Tim like he was looking at gum on the bottom of his shoe.
"Tim, if you trust me, you'll do as I tell you." He smiled and patted Tim's cheek. "You'll have what you want. I promise, just have Taylor ready to go by five when I arrive. Okay?"
Tim nodded.
"Yes, yes, okay, Mr. G. Five." Tim looked tired but he still drove Taylor to his house, she was wearing only a long bathrobe that she understood in a dull way must be David Carter's robe, which gave her a complicated little tingle. She asked about Tim's mother as Tim bundled her out of the car to the front door, his house didn't have a garage so she had to walk across the weed-ridden lawn to the front door barefoot in only the white bathrobe.
"Mom's gone until Thursday." He said. His voice had warbled then and Taylor had noted it vaguely but without the proper diligence to mark it for later consideration. She'd have cause to regret that, although by then the matter was set and nothing could have been done to change her fate.
What followed was the most surprising hours of pleasure and contentment Taylor had ever known in her life. Tim ran a bath and then helped Taylor into it. She lay limply in the slick, sudsy water enjoying the soothing heat and the delicate jasmine aroma therapy while Tim lifted her limbs and cleansed her. He polished her skin between her toes and behind her ears. He washed her hair, sticky and brittle with cum that had been sprayed there by the Adult Club. He aroused her by pushing fingers into her cunt and swishing them around inside her, pressing more and more cum out of her body until she actually felt clean inside. She didn't mention that her ass hole twitched and longed for his soft fingers there too. Tim would have been scandalized.
He talked the whole time, his voice a mewling swirl of fantasy and practicality. He spoke of how long he'd loved her and that she was his now and he'd cherish her forever...all sorts of saccharine platitudes that made Taylor want to spit in his face but her exhaustion was so total that she merely smiled vaguely at his words. That proved a round mistake because Tim took that as approval and so it encouraged him and he redoubled his fawning praise of her. Taylor saw no way to shut his gob and so had to endure it. She felt like she was drowning in honey.
When she'd been cleaned and pampered in the bath until she felt nearly new again...and horny again to her shock and dismay...he tried to lift her out himself but couldn't. She had to exert her tired and now finally aching muscles to rise out of the tub. She wobbled and would have fallen had Tim not been there to support her and that put bile in her belly she tasted behind her teeth. He was naked by then and hard as a pencil. He nonetheless helped her into the shower, one of the few luxuries the house contained both a bath tub and a shower. Since he was naked they went into the shower together and she let him run his soft hands all over her body, smoothing off soap and massaging her. She stood like a tinman, locked into place by rust and inertia while Tim massaged her. The idiot didn't realize making her stand tensed a lot of the muscles he rubbed but Taylor said nothing. He tried. He wasn't strong enough to do much good rubbing but the very softness of his efforts proved surprisingly enjoyable and disturbingly erotic.
By the time Tim helped her to bed, she was aroused again.
Not the raucous need that made her wince but a soft, almost soothing desire to be used again so when she was settled in his mother's large soft bed, naked and at ease and Tim crawled between her legs and entered her with his average cock, she almost welcomed it. Any port in storm, she thought as his cock penetrated her cunt.
"Oh Taylor!" Tim whispered. "I love you so much!" He lay on her, his cock lodged inside her. He raised up and waited for her to open her eyes and look at him.
When she did, she saw such adoration, for a moment her shriveled little heart swelled. "He loves me!" She thought for the first time, perhaps ever. "He actually loves me!" The thought startled her so profoundly that her hips rose up under him in some semblance of a sexual response to him planted between her legs. Tim moaned and came, absolutely immediately.
Taylor would have screamed in frustration if she'd had any strength left but having none, she moaned. Tim clearly thought it was an expression of pleasure which made him grind down harder between her legs. Despite the longing in her that being fucked all weekend created, wanting more of that, Tim's softness, his tenderness, his very delicacy that had once irked and even nauseated her served to comfort and sooth her. That it did not approach matching the use she'd endured for two days seemed to lose importance and before he pulled out of her, she'd found a curious and surprising appreciation for the gentle penetration that simply felt good but had no hope of bring her to orgasm.
She drifted to sleep with that curious idea in her mind, that having Tim make love to her felt good. She woke later and Tim was inside her again, humping between her open legs. Something about his temerity to use her like that thrilled her but then he spoiled it by kissing her. His lips were soft...like a woman's! The thought made the kiss more erotic than it actually felt because it brought back to her the memory of Miss Rollins kissing her and that did arouse her. When Tim came again, she accepted his offering into her body with something approximating pleasure. The very fact that he could use her without requiring her participation or response actually made it...almost...satisfying. That sleep was better and more satisfying was a very real insult to Tim but if he understood it, he didn't care.
He seemed immune to her indifference, to her lack of involvement in their coupling. He fucked her twice more before the afternoon was over. Each time she woke to him penetrating her and each time she felt some sort of pleasure she'd never suspected was possible to her. It was pleasure at being loved, needed, wanted but also being poorly used. Nothing prepared her for the feelings that emanated from Tim Stanton while he used her. She was too exhausted, too sleepy to have much of an opinion and in fact, his use of her was the one thing that was a familiar source of arousal for her. She tried to feel like she was being used but his soft hands, his gentle lips, his constant murmurs of love and adoration spoiled it for her. It jellied her. No tension rose in her to make her body buck with orgasm. Just the lax contentment of being constantly soothed. She hated it.
He woke her with sandwiches at about four and had her dressed in an ill-fitting dress of his mother's when Mr. G arrived to pick her up. The man snorted and striped her, his hands flying over her body in so perfunctorily a way, it shouldn't have had any effect on her but instead, his very disinterest in her gave her such pleasure, she was wildly aroused by the time she was naked and he'd pulled Mr. Carter's robe onto her shoulders. It smelled fresh and only when she was walking barefoot down the pitted and cracked drive to Mr. G's car did she realize Tim must have washed and dried it for her.
Mr. G didn't even speak to her on the way to her house. Taylor's mind was still woolly with sleep so she almost appreciated the silence, not taking it for what it was, neglect. She lolled in that empty space matching it with her own Zen mind sort of emptiness until they arrived at her front door. Suddenly she realized she'd be walking into her house in nothing but a bathrobe that wasn't even hers! The thought shocked her into awareness.
"What are we doing here?" She asked.
"This where you live, Taylor," Mr. G said with a smirk and an indulgent smile. "I must say, I have never ever seen a woman fuck so much, so often and for so long with such actual pleasure as you can. You are a remarkable sexual mechanism."
The frank wonder in his voice made Taylor warm and the warmth remained with her through the front door of her house and inside. Her mother and sister were having dinner at the kitchen table. Anne leered at her but her mother stared at them like she was seeing some alien creatures appear magically in her kitchen.
"Mr. Gloustershire?" Tara Dillon said, surprise clear in her voice. "Taylor, what in heaven's name are you doing? Where are your clothes? Whose robe is that? What have you been doing?"
"She's been fucking all weekend. Your daughter is a slut." Mr. G said, his voice even and light as though discussing the weather.
Tara Dillon gasped. Anne choked. She'd been drinking from her glass of milk and when Mr. G spoke, she choked and milk came out of her nose which made her giggle.
"Anne! For Christ's sake!" Tara snarled but then handed her youngest daughter a napkin, dabbing at her messy face. "Here, you're too pretty to be doing that. Stop it." When the mess was finally cleaned and tidied, a lurid silence settled around the four of them.
