by Jefferson James
No girl deserves a mother as bad as mine. She never actually hit me, screamed at me, or abused me in anyway. It was almost like she didn’t know I even existed. I was clothed, fed, and sent to school, but other than that I was completely ignored by her and Cameron, my step-father, until after I had graduated high school.
We lived miles from the nearest town and looking for a job wasn’t easy. My only transportation was Cameron, and he left so early in the mornings that my chores almost always made it impossible for me to hitch a ride with him. I felt trapped, and sometimes I felt like my mom felt the same way, especially when I’d see her on a morning when she had a fat lip she hadn’t had the night before. By evening, though, she always seemed happy and content again.
Then, one morning she told me she was going to go stay with her sister for a week. Aunt Trudy was having a baby. I begged and pleaded to go in her place or with her, but she was having none of it. I barely knew Aunt Trudy, but I wanted desperately to have a chance at finding work in a bigger town than the Podunk ones near us. Mom was adamant, though; she was going and I was staying.
“Someone has to see to Cameron while I’m gone,” she said. “Like it or not, that someone is you. If I was to leave him here alone, he’d chase me down and drag me back. That ain’t in my plans.”
She looked me up and down like she hadn’t ever taken the time to see me before, nodded and added, “You’ll do fine.”
As she fetched an already-packed suitcase from her closet, she looked me up and down again and said, in the most motherly voice I ever heard come out of her, “Over the years I’ve found Cameron is a lot easier to deal with if you don’t make him mad. If he wants it, you give it to him, straight away. You hear me?”
I must have looked confused. Clucking her tongue at me, she rolled her eyes, headed for the door and said over her shoulder, “It’s time you start paying your way around here, girl, and well tonight’s the night. Up until now there was no way that c-cup set of yours was competing with my double Ds. Cameron likes his women with a little meat on their bones. You know what they say, though. …any port in a storm. With me not here, there ain’t no doubt at all about where he’ll be docking tonight. You’re growed up enough to do the deed, and hopefully smart enough not to make a fuss. Like I said, if he wants it, you give it to him straight away.”
“Mom! What are you saying?”
“You want me to spell it out for you, girl? Christ almighty! I’m saying, you lie back, close your eyes and open your legs, or you bend over, lift your dress and drop your panties, whatever, whenever. That’s what I’m saying. It ain’t like you’re a virgin or nothing. You went to the prom. Everyone knows a girl gets boned by her date on prom night, unless maybe he’s her brother, and that’s just maybe. My cousin took me to the prom, and he boned me good and proper, top and bottom, front and back. He thought he got all three of my cherries. Truth be told, though, I only had the one left; I owed his older brother for something more than a year before.”
“Mom! I can’t believe what you’re saying.”
“What’s so hard to believe? If a man does something for you, you let him do something to you. It’s as simple as that. Cameron has been putting food in your mouth and belly almost your whole life. If he wants to but something else in either, it’s his right. Besides, you don’t have to worry about him putting anything permanent in your belly, he’s had himself one of those vasectomies. God I was glad when he did that. He only did it so he wouldn’t knock up some underage twerp he was boning at the time, but I was still glad. Before that, I had to spend a lot of time flipped to make sure I didn’t get knocked up. You know what I mean? That reminds me. …a little motherly advice. If Cameron tells you to flip over, tell him you got to pee. If he ain’t been drinking, he’ll let you have a minute. You take that time to grease it, you here? Of course, if he’s hammered, you get nailed. …hard and fast, front and back. In the keester with no KY ain’t fun. It’s close to the end of the pay period, though, and he’ll be low on drinking money. Your little tushie probably isn’t in for too rough a time. Hell, he’s ripped mine and made it bleed every night the last three days in a row. I can barely sit down. It’ll be nice to have someone sharing the load. Get it? …sharing the load?”
She laughed and walked out. I was too flabbergasted to say anything. Before I realized what was happening, her bag was in the back of Aunt Trudy’s car, and she was gone.
The shock took about three minutes to wear off. Then, as quick as I could I grabbed some clothes, put them in a garbage bag, threw it over my shoulder and headed out. There was no way I wanted to be there alone with Cameron, not even for a couple of days.
Unfortunately, the house sits way back from the road. It took me over an hour to get from one end of the driveway to the other. I was a couple miles further along toward town when I saw the first car or truck. It was Cameron’s pickup! There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He stopped, got out, and asked me, “Where you headed, girl?”
“Into town to look for a job,” I told him.
He didn’t seem convinced. It was a little late in the day for that, and we both knew it. It was early for him to be off work already, but nothing was said about that.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the garbage bag.
Thinking fast, I answered, “A change of clothes for my job interview.”
He seemed even less convinced. He’d been drinking a little, but he wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t need to change clothes before being seen for any jobs I was qualified to apply for. Besides, I didn’t own anything nicer to wear than I already had on.
“You’re mama didn’t tell me nothing about none of this,” he said, grabbing my arm and guiding me toward the truck’s passenger door. “Get in.”
I resisted just a little, and he gave me a look that said I better do as I was told or someone would be finding my dead body lying beside the road. I figured my best bet was to go back to the house with him. If I was lucky, he’d take a nap like he always did and I could head out again. …cross-country.
All hopes of that soon faded. The second we were through the door, he asked, “Where the fuck is your mother?”
I couldn’t think of any good lies, so I told him the truth, knowing just what a mistake that was. He kicked a chair clean out of the kitchen and halfway across the living room.
“Without fucking asking me if it was alright?”
I wished I was invisible. I knew he wasn’t expecting an explanation and I certainly wasn’t going to offer him one. He looked me up and down real slow like my mother had, but it didn’t feel the same. It was creepy. There was no pretense about me just taking care of the cooking and cleaning and his other needs. There was only one need on his mind and it was obvious.
I wished I could stop time. I didn’t want another second to go by. I was dreading the next thing he would do or say more than anything I had ever dreaded before. I tried taking a step back, but again there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
The words he spoke next were the same ones my mother had used, and they meant the same thing, but they sounded a whole lot more like a threat as he gripped my upper arm tight and told me, “You’ll do fine.”
The next thing I knew, I was in their bedroom. Cameron pushed me toward my mom’s side of the bed and said, “Get your clothes off.”
I wanted to refuse, but I was too scared to talk. I just stood there swallowing hard, breathing hard, and staring at him, feeling more like a little girl than a young woman.
Finally, I found my voice.
“Cameron, this ain’t right; you’re my step-father,” I said. “Mom says you might even be my father.”
“So what if I was your father?” He said, pulling off his sleeveless tshirt. “That just means I got more right to do with you as I see fit. …my own flesh and blood. Now if you don’t want me spilling some of that blood by busting up your pretty face, you’re going to get your clothes off like I told you.”
“But you’d be cheating on your wife,” I said, grasping at straws.
I knew he’d laugh, and he did, saying, “Like I ain’t done that before.”
The only way I could keep from happening what was about to happen was to run for it. Cameron must have known what I was planning. He side-stepped, blocking my path, putting his hands on his hips. Then, in a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “She left you here by yourself, like she never done before. That means two things. She knows and she don’t care. Get your clothes off.”
“Go see one of them,” I said, in desperation. “You know other women that can take care of your needs.”
He looked at me like I was dumber than dirt, and said, “It’s a matter of convenience; you’re here and they ain’t, and if I remember correctly from when I used to see your mother changing your diapers, you’ve got a pussy. I’ll bet by now you’ve grown yourself I pretty little bush too. Strip!”
When I didn’t move, he hollered at the top of his lungs, “Get your fucking clothes off, girl!”
I jumped nearly a foot in the air. The only time I’d heard him yell like that it had come through the wall and was almost immediately followed by a loud crash or thud and the sound of my mama crying. My luck had been pushed just as far as it would go. The fact that he hadn’t punched me yet was a miracle, plain and simple.
Not knowing what else to do, I slipped off my shoes and started slowly unbuttoning the top of my dress, more scared and feeling more ashamed than I ever had.
“You’re taking an awful long time,” he said. “You need help?”
A second later, buttons were flying and cloth was ripping. I nearly fell down, but he caught me by my shoulders as my dress fell to the floor. Looking me up and down again, he said, “You’ve actually grown into a woman. …got some nice curves. Let’s see your boobs and beaver.”
“Please stop,” I begged. “You don’t want to do this.”
Cameron laughed again and said, “The hell I don’t.”
Grabbing my wrist, he forced my hand to the front of his pants, and asked, “You feel that?”
His penis was harder than a rock and had already made a wet spot on his jeans. He let me pull my hand away and back into the corner of the room. Then, smiling, his voice dropped to a whisper and he said, “It’s going in you, girl. I got some sauce for your taco.”
Fighting back tears, I shook my head. He ignored me and whispered, “Let’s see your boobs and beaver. We’re going to start with you giving me a lap dance with your pretty little mouth. …bobbing for my apples, girl. I want you naked while you’re doing it.”
I just stood there. My inaction got me a stinging slap across the face. Cameron shoved me up against the wall. He forced his hands behind me, undid my bra, yanked it off me and threw it across the room.
“Oh God,” I said, covering my face with my hands.
I wanted to cover my breasts, but I knew I didn’t dare. Cameron instantly grabbed one and started sucking on the other. His other hand wedged itself between my thighs, throwing me off balance as I was forced to spread my legs. He rubbed me through my panties for a few seconds and then shoved his hand inside them. As he pinched one nipple and licked the other, the middle finger of the hand in my crotch was probing for my vagina. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I pushed him away.
That got my punched in the stomach. As I was gasping for air, Cameron threw me on the bed. My panties were stripped off me and were soon lying on the floor beside my bra. Except for my earrings, I was as naked as the day I was born, looking up through bleary eyes at my step-father as he opened the front of his pants. The instant his erect penis was freed from his underwear, I was dragged back to my feet by my hair and he threw me against the wall.
“You want it rough? I can give it to you rough.”
He caught me glancing at the bedroom door. It was less than ten feet away, standing wide open and he wasn’t between it and me, standing a little to the other side of me.
“You want to make a run for it?” he asked, lying back on the bed. “Go for it. How far do you think you’ll get? If you want to do this on the kitchen floor or outside in the dirt, that’s fine with me. We’re doing it, though. One way or another, girl, we’re doing it. I am boning you. So just get the fuck over here. Get my prick in your pretty little mouth while your mouth is still pretty, and let’s get started.”
He made a fist with his right hand and rubbed his knuckles with the palm of his left. I closed my eyes, and even though it was nowhere close to being cold, starting shivering. With tears running down my face, I felt myself nodding my head. It’s like part of me knew what was good for me and part of me didn’t. My heart said to resist with every ounce of my being, but my brain said I was getting raped no matter what I did. I was dealt that hand the moment Cameron saw me walking along the side of the road.
Keeping my eyes tightly closed, I felt for the edge of the bed and sat down beside him. He guided my shaking hands to his stiff, sticky penis. I wiped it clean with my palm as best I could and leaned over. There was nothing more for it. Sniffling, I took him in my mouth and started sucking.
Cameron moaned and his back arched a little. Then, shifting his shoulders toward the edge of the bed, he reached down, stretching, and tapped me on the leg, saying, “Open up. Give me a view.”
I thought about biting him. I thought about it real hard. It was a life or death decision. There was no doubt about that. If I didn’t incapacitate him enough to get away, completely away, he’d kill me. The keys to the truck were clipped to his belt. Could I hurt him enough to get them? If not, how far could I get barefoot and naked?
Taking Cameron as deep into my mouth as I could, I made up my mind. My legs opened a little, and then they opened all the way. He was right. I was getting boned. My mother was right too. It wouldn’t be the first time. I hadn’t had sex on prom night, but I had let my Fine Arts teacher sweet talk me out of my virginity about mid-term my senior year. I had been with a boy from my drama class twice after that. I wasn’t experienced by any stretch of the imagination, but I knew what to expect and what was expected of me.
My head bobbed up and down as my lips slid along the slick shaft of Cameron’s penis. As I cradled his scrotum in my hand, the thought of crushing his testicles flitted in and out of my mind so fast it’s hardly fair to say I even considered it. I was getting boned. My vagina seemed to be resigned to that fact even before I had made up my mind. I was already damp and getting wetter by the second. My legs were trembling, but I kept them open wide.
“Get over here beside me,” Cameron said lifting my head and looking me in the eye. “…flat on your back, split and split wide.”
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I moved to where he told me to be. Cringing, I clenched my eyes as tight as I could and slowly spread my legs. The mattress rocked me a little as it reacted to Cameron’s shifting weight. Then, I felt each of his knees brushing against the inside of my calves as he moved into position.
The next thing I knew, I was standing beside the bed. My thighs were clamped together and I was hugging myself as hard as I could. Tears poured out of my eyes and I was shaking from head to toe.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cameron asked, with obvious anger in his voice.
I honestly didn’t know. I only knew I couldn’t just lie there and let it happen like that.
Cameron started cursing and I started running. As I made my way across the kitchen I threw a chair behind me in hopes of slowing him down. He jumped over it and caught up to me just as I was opening the door to outside. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I was jerked backwards by my hair. I was spun around and caught the edge of the kitchen table in my midsection. It bent me over so hard and fast I split my lip on its top.
My legs were flailing and Cameron wasted no time getting between them. Pushing myself up, I tried my best to break free of him, but failed. He was still holding onto my hair and throwing my head from side to side so hard I thought my neck was going to break. I felt the head of his wet, slippery penis between my equally slick labia, its tip just inside the mouth of my moist vagina.
“You fucking little bitch!” Cameron snarled. “I told you. I am boning you!”
Suddenly, the kitchen table, with me on it, slid a full three feet across the room and slammed into the counter as Cameron’s penis slammed into my vagina. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such pain or screamed so loud. I felt like my cervix had been hit by a truck. My arms shot out from under me and I gripped the sides of the table as tight as I could.
Cameron pulled back and slammed into me again, and again, and again. I was moaning in agony and he was groaning in ecstasy. …in and out, in and out. He was going at me like there was no tomorrow, and I wished there wasn’t. I wanted to die, and not just because it hurt so bad. Never in my life had I felt so totally wronged, victimized and violated.
My body was being brutalized, but my mind was too. For some reason, I hated myself as much as I hated Cameron. I keep telling myself I should have been able to keep this from happening, but I didn’t know how. Maybe that three minutes I had been stunned made a difference, but I didn’t see how. Maybe I should have gone the other direction on the road, but I had no idea which direction he would have been coming from or when. Somehow, though, I still felt like it was all my fault.
Eventually, the physical pain eased up. He was stroking hard and steady, but my vagina had acclimated to his length and girth. My face was still wet with tears and I was still sobbing like a baby, though. It’s hard to explain how it feels to be used like some jackoff device. I wasn’t a person; I was a thing. I was just some thing for him to stick his penis in because he liked the way it felt.
The kitchen table banged against the counter each time Cameron’s belly slapped against my buttocks, making my body undulate with his thrusting and my stomach turn as I felt the slippery warmth of his semen flooding me. Even though I wasn’t a virgin, it was a totally new experience, having made the others pull out, having control over the situation completely unlike this time. I felt sick.
Finally, Cameron quit moving and his penis slipped out of me. I started to curl up in a ball when he slapped me on the butt, and said, “Don’t you fucking move or I’ll bash your goddamn brains out. I ain’t done with you yet, girl.”
I was almost too devastated to care what he might do to me, but I was also completely exhausted. Falling limp, I just laid there sniffling and aching all over. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Cameron stroking himself. His penis was still somewhat stiff and was slowly responding to his ministrations. He was planning on boning me again. There was no doubt about that.
“…fucking bitch!” he said, snarling. “I’ll show you. This is my house; I’m the boss around here. You think you can do as you please? You think what I say don’t mean shit? If I say you’re getting boned, you’re getting boned. I’ll teach you, you little fucking twerp!”
The next thing I heard was my own screaming. Cameron’s penis was up my butt to the hilt and I was flopping and flailing like a fish on a hook. He had a hold of my hair again and was pulling my head back so far I could barely breathe. That was the least of my concerns, though. I was hurting so bad I wished I would pass out. For sure, I felt my butt would rip wide open.
“You ain’t feeling uppity now, are you?” Cameron asked. “If I say to suck it, you’ll suck it, won’t you? If I say to get flat on your back, split wide, you’ll be there, naked, ready and waiting, won’t you? Your boobs and box are mine, girl. Don’t you ever forget it. Any woman living under my roof is my whore, bought and paid for. If your mother wasn’t so much sexier than you, I’d have been giving it to you all along. Until she comes home, you’re getting it and getting it good and hard and whenever I want. There ain’t no two ways about that.”
I have no idea how long he sodomized me. After a while, it quit hurting as much and I just laid there like a sack of potatoes getting nailed like my mother had described. …in the keester and no KY. I knew I had to be torn and bleeding, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t care that I had lost my last cherry or that I was engaged in the filthiest act I could imagine two people doing, something I had planned on avoiding at all costs. I didn’t care if I lived or died.
Cameron’s penis felt even bigger up my butt than it had in my vagina. My insides had been rearranged and I was stretched so wide I was sure I was ruined. On and on he went. His fingernails were digging into my hips as he yanked me to him. …in and out, in and out, in and out. I thought the torture would never stop.
Eventually, though, Cameron pulled out and sprayed all over my back. He grunted a few times, and then, without a word being said, got himself a beer from the fridge and went off to watch TV. Sliding off the table, I literally crawled to my bed, not even having the strength to clean up. He went out later to get himself something to eat, but I was too sore to even think about trying to escape, even though I was pretty sure by that point that my mother was never coming back.
I woke up the next morning to Cameron demanding a blowjob. Reluctantly but dutifully, I laid still while he climbed onto the bed, straddled my face and used my mouth. Knowing what I knew from overhearing the most violent fight he and my mother had ever had, and not wanting to be beat as badly myself, I grudgingly swallowed his spunk, as revolting an act as it was.
As his soft, slimy penis slid out from between my lips, Cameron told me, “When I get home from work I expect cold beer and hot pussy. I promised a friend I’d lend him a hand after work. When I get here before going there I won’t have a lot of time. That means that when you hear me coming up the drive you get that beer, open it and put it on my nightstand. You strip and get in my bed. I want you buck naked, flat on your back, split wide, ready and waiting. Ready means wet. Play with yourself if you have to; I expect that pussy to be like the steak you better have waiting for me later — hot and juicy.”
He hadn’t said please, thank you or anything, and left me with a bad taste in my mouth in more than one way. As he headed off to the shower, I headed to the kitchen. The way I figure it: When they find his bloody corpse in the bottom of the bathtub, and the kitchen knife beside it, they’ll think my mother killed him. Heaven knows she had plenty of reason to. Whatever the case, I’m thousands of miles from there and made very sure not to leave a trail. I really don’t care what they do to her. My step-father may have done what he did to me, and paid for it with his life, but still I blame my mother.
(c) Copyright July 2007 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, by and for the person reading this notice, for private reading.