RACHEL, Part Two
by Libertine
It was great, waking up to find Rachel's naked body snuggled up against
mine. The previous night, at her mother's insistence, I had beaten Rachel and
butt-fucked her, but Rachel says she is so happy that I care about her. I was
confused; I'd had less than eight hours to get used to the fact that I had a
step-mother and a step-sister. We went downstairs, and Mother suggested Rachel
cook breakfast. We ate, behaving as if nothing strange had happened the
previous night. Rachel left for work, and I went out to look for work.
Rachel got home minutes after I did, and Dad showed up, back from a run to
Duluth, just in time for supper. He kissed his new wife at the door, and then
he saw me. "Howard!" he yelled, "You are home." He pumped my hand, hugged me,
told me how happy he was to see me. "You've met Priscilla and Rachel, I see.
Aren't they a pair of beauties?"
"Yes, I've met them. And yes, they are quite a pair." Mother smiled at me
approvingly. Dad and I monopolized the conversation over dinner, as I filled
him in about my life in the Army and he told me about his new job and meeting
Priscilla. He's a deacon of the church. She just showed up one Sunday, and one
thing led to another. "You know," he said to me conspiratorially, "after your
mother died, I wasn't much interested in women. But Priscilla, she's something
special. When I realized how she could turn me on, I just had to marry her. I
tried to invite you to the wedding, but I couldn't contact you; you'd already
been discharged." After dinner, Dad handed me a twenty and said, "Son, why
don't you take Rachel out tonight? She doesn't have to work tomorrow. Stay out
late, at least until midnight." He glanced at Priscilla, who smiled back at
him. I was happy enough to do that, to give him and his bride some privacy.
Rachel and I changed into more casual clothes and stepped out onto the front
porch. "Rachel," I said as we left, "should we stop at Riley's for a drink?"
"I don't touch alcohol," she said.
"An ice cream soda, then?"
"Let's just go for a walk." We walked around town until it got dark, and
we found ourselves close to home. Rachel led me quietly across the lawn and lay
down in the grass, close to a cellar window. It had been painted over with
black paint, but there were some scratches in the paint, like peep holes, and a
corner of one pane was broken out. We lay side by side, holding hands, and
peered in. It was the same part of the cellar that we had been in the night
before, lighted with several candles. My father was there, still in his work
clothes, pacing the floor. Then Rachel's mother came down the cellar stairs.
She was wearing a bizarre outfit. She had on a black hood and cape. Around her
throat was a leather band, like a dog collar, with gleaming spikes sticking out.
Her ample breasts were held up by a leather bra, each cup a kind of network of
narrow leather straps, with a gleaming metal stud riveting each intersection of
the straps. The tip of each cup was open, so that her nipples stuck out.
Unlike Rachel's, they had no gold rings through them. Beneath the bra was a
tight leather corset which went from her tits to her hips and gave her an
hourglass figure. She had high-heeled black boots that reached halfway up her
ample thighs. Between the black of the corset and the black of the boots was
only pale white skin and a triangle of curly black pubic hair. Chrome plated
chains criss-crossed Mother's torso, draped across her belly, and her arms had
metal bracelets above and below her elbows. "Did you miss me, when you were
away?" she said.
"Yes, Mistress." His prick hung limp.
"Don't deny it, you have sinned," she said.
"Yes, Mistress, I confess, for he who has lusted in his heart has committed
adultery," said my father. "I deserve whatever punishment I get." I had never
seen him like this; he always dominated my mother when she was alive.
"Take off your clothes." He did, hanging them neatly on nails in a floor
joist. I had never seen my father naked. Rachel just looked and said nothing.
While Dad was getting undressed, his new wife shed her cape and hood and went
into the dark part of the cellar. She came back dragging a thing that turned
out to be a pillory, like the pictures of old New England. Submissively, my
naked father put his head and hands in the notches of a lower board, while
Priscilla fastened the upper piece over them. After that, we couldn't see his
face, just his naked body bent over with his ass toward us. "How many times did
you sin, Husband?"
"Many times. I lost count, Mistress."
"Then you have much repenting to do," she said. She fitted a black cup
over his balls and laced it into place. Then she ran hot water from the laundry
tub faucet. From the cupboard she took out an enema set, poured some liquid
soap into the bag and filled it with hot water. She slipped the slender nozzle
into his anus and let the soapy water flow. "Don't let anything come out," she
ordered. She fitted a bridle-like thing over his face, with a bit in his mouth,
which gagged him. Father patiently endured this and his enema. All this was
new to me; I didn't remember our ever owning an enema bag, before Priscilla
came.
Then she lashed his ass with a cat 'o nine tails from the cupboard. I
realized the whip must have been soft rubber or something like that, for it
didn't do any real damage. The cup over the balls protected them. Still, each
blow left nine pink stripes on Dad's ass, until it was pink all over. Priscilla
surveyed her handiwork and walked around her pilloried husband, commenting on
the consequences of sin. Soap bubbles oozed out from between my father's
buttocks, and Priscilla screamed, "Hold it in, or I shall give you twice as much
next time." She gave him three more lashes, as hard as she could. A stream of
soapy water poured forth. "Howard," she said, "I'm disappointed with you. You
disobeyed me." She repeated the enema procedure, twice. I was amazed that Dad
could hold it all, a gallon or so of hot, soapy water. When she had removed the
nozzle, warning him again not to spill a drop, she postured in front of his
face, taunting him. She fingered her bushy cunt, while he was unable to do
anything. Finally, she said, "All right, Howard, you may let go of the water
now." Water gushed out, spraying soap suds on the floor. The soapy water ran
slowly toward a drain in the floor. Then she let him free of the gag and of the
pillory.
His penis now stood tall. Priscilla bent over a padded bench, presenting
her backside to him, the curly fur coat of her cunt contrasting with the pale
white skin of her ass and thighs. "A wife should never leave her husband in such
a state of arousal, Howard. You may relieve yourself, now." My father
plunged his prod into her from behind and fucked her violently, holding her hips
as I had held Rachel's. Priscilla must have been aroused, too, for Dad's prick
slipped right in. It didn't take long before he was pumping his semen into
Priscilla's cunt. When Dad had withdrawn from her, she lay down on her back on
the bench, with her feet on the floor either side of the bench and her knees
spread. "Howard," she said, "wash me, with your tongue." Submissively, my
father got down and put his head between her thighs. She reached down to hold
his face against her as he lapped at her damp bush.
"What do you suppose they'll do next?" I whispered to Rachel?
"I think they'll be a while, doing that. Mother seems to enjoy that. We
can't go back in the house until they are done. They will expect us to stay out
until midnight."
"Has anyone ever done that to you?"
"No, never. You are the first man who has ever touched me there."
"Where should we go now?" I said, quietly into her ear.
"There's the old barn, behind the house," she whispered back. I helped
Rachel to her feet, and we tiptoed across the darkened lawn to the garage.
Rachel and I slipped into the old barn by the back door. It had once been a
stable, but there had been no horses for years. It simply smelled of old hay and
dust. An ancient Hudson sedan was parked behind the big sliding barn door, up
on blocks. To our dark adapted eyes, just enough moonlight seeped in so we
could find our way. Rachel, without being told, climbed the ladder to the hay
loft. She climbed a great mound of hay and sprawled across the top. The door
in the gable, where they had hauled the hay up, was open, letting in the ghostly
moonlight. Through the door we could see the back of the house, but, of course,
no one could see us, deep in the shadows. A light was on in our parents' room.
"Rachel," I said, "you are the most beautiful woman in the state."
"You are just flattering me."
"No, I mean it. Just looking at you makes me wild with desire."
"It is not right for a woman to so tempt a man. If I could hide myself, I
would."
"You know I have seen you naked, soaped every bit of your body. We slept
naked in each other's arms. You can't take the memory away from me, so it would
do no good for you to hide." "But still, it is wrong for me to incite lust in
you." "Take off your clothes." "No." "Do I have to do it for you?" "Yes." I
reached for her, but she rolled away. I reached for her again, but she threw a
handful of hay at me. "I mean to have you naked, Rachel." "You will have to do
it yourself." I chased her across the unsteady surface of the hay; she was
quick and agile. At last, I caught an ankle, and she tumbled, face down, in the
hay. Quickly, I sat on her legs and dragged her skirt up over her back. There
wasn't much she could do to stop me. I had to reach behind me to take off her
shoes, one by one. She wasn't wearing pantyhose, just white cotton panties. I
pulled at the waistband, trying to pull them down over her hips. She wriggled,
as if trying to escape, by the effect was to make it easier for me. However, I
could slide the panties only as far as her mid-thighs, for I was sitting on her
knees.
When I shifted my weight, to pull her undergarment under me, she squirmed
and tried to get away. I rolled her on her back, and she put both feet against
my chest, trying to kick me away. In the resulting scramble, I grabbed her
wrists and wrestled her face down, over my lap. I could hold her there with one
hand, and with the other fondled her fleshy ass. She squeezed her legs
together. I tried to force my hand between them, right at the top. "OW," she
squealed. I gave her a firm but playful spank on her upturned buttocks and
said, "Be quiet, wench." She was quiet. I worked her panties downward until
they bunched around her ankles. The white skin of her fleshy globes seemed
almost to gleam in the gloom. Tenderly, I stroked the smooth skin with my finger
tips. Rachel just lay there, lying across my legs, her face in the hay, her
knees pressed together.
For a long time, it seemed, I was content to fondle her ass and to trail my
fingers up and down her thighs or tickle her behind her knees, which made her
squirm. Whenever she moved, her hip would rub my tall pole, through my jeans,
and I thought I might ejaculate just thinking about her. I found a dried weed
stalk in the hay, and I used the end to gently prick her tender skin. It caused
her to giggle and wriggle on my lap, and that really turned me on. I pulled her
blouse free of her skirt, reached up her back and undid the hooks of her bra.
But then I couldn't keep myself from attending to her beautiful bottom,
stroking, poking, squeezing, until I could hardly control my lust. Without
warning her, I wrestled Rachel onto her back and pinned her down with my weight.
Her skirt was bunched at her waist, and in seconds her blouse and bra were
pushed up to her arm pits, exposing her beautiful breasts with their rosy
nipples. On her back, Rachel could have used her arms to push me away, to
scratch and fight, but she lay there, passive, allowing me to do what I would.
I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her ears, her mouth. Then I addressed each
breast in turn, kissing, then licking, then gently sucking, taking each of the
gold rings carefully into my mouth. "Why do you torment me so?" she whispered.
"Have I displeased you?" I wedged my body between her knees, spreading them
wide.
I kissed her belly, there below the bunched up skirt, and said, "Rachel, my
love, I am not punishing you. I am worshiping you." "That is sacrilege.
One can worship only God," she said, but she drew her knees up higher,
contracting her stomach muscles, so I could get an even better view of her
upturned slit. Reverently, I kissed her mons, kissed each vaginal lip. I
lifted her knees with my arms and shoulders, so that she didn't have to exert
herself, and I began to blow on her inner thighs. Rachel sighed, relaxed, and
lay back in the hay. I found, as I licked her, that her pubic hair was beginning
to grow back. In contrast with the silky smooth of her ass and inner thighs,
there was just enough stubble in her crotch to increase the friction of my
tongue on her most private places. "Oh, Howard," she moaned, "you make me think
impure thoughts. You mustn't." I slipped the tip of my tongue between her outer
lips, which parted easily. I could taste the pleasant juices which drenched her
cunt. When I tried to lick her inner lips, the metal studs which sealed her
tunnel got in the way. But above the studs was another bump. Her little
clitoris, like a pea, was accessible in her gaping groove. I clamped my lips
upon it, and she moaned. I sucked it into my mouth until I could flick it with
the end of my tongue, and she gasped for breath. I opened my mouth and licked
furiously. "Oh. Oh. Aaahh," she cried, and she tried to clamp her thighs over
my ears. To have a woman respond like that is the thrill of a lifetime. I
licked and sucked without relenting, as Rachel moaned and heaved her hips and
pleaded, "Oh, Howard, don't torment me. I can't stand it." I couldn't count
her orgasms, as she writhed under me, thrashing her arms, turning her head this
way and that, and making animal-like noises in her ecstacy.
At last I released her and sat back. My face was wet with her juices, and
my tongue ached from hard work. Rachel was utterly spent, sprawled there in the
hay like a rag doll, covered with perspiration. The wet, white skin of her
breasts and thighs reflected the faint moonlight, contrasting with the darkness
of the barn. I noticed that the kitchen light was on in the house. I knelt
beside her and kissed Rachel on the mouth. Dreamily, she put her arms around me
and kissed me back. My hand fell on her breast. "Mmmmm," she hummed through
our kiss. Then we just held each other, lying together, there in the hay. My
prick still strained at my jeans, but Rachel was so relaxed, so dreamy, that I
wouldn't ask her to take care of that. There would be time, later.
The kitchen light went out, and a minute later, the bedroom light went out.
"I guess we can go home now," I said to Rachel. "Mmmm?" "Time to go home." I
helped her up. Her panties were still around her ankles, full of hay. Had I
simply pulled her panties up, she would have had bits of hay pressed into her
crotch. It was easier just to have her step out of them. I fondled her
breasts, briefly, and put her bra back where it belonged. We tucked her blouse
back in her skirt and tried to pull the hay from her hair and clothes.
In the solitude of the summer night, we walked together across the lawn,
holding hands. A gentle breeze stirred her skirt, and she shuddered at the
unfamiliar feeling of cool air on her naked cunt. Quietly, we let ourselves in
the back door and made our way to our room. I had been home for only a day, but
already I was in love.
[to be continued]
