Down the hall the sound of a toilet being flushed could be heard and a minute or so later Daisuke came into the room, wiping at his mouth with a towel. His face was pale as well, but for a different reason. “I know you said you’re mom would clean her up, but . . . Jesus, Hiroshi . . .” Daisuke broke off, unable to continue.
Hiroshi drew back his left hand, now a fist and slammed it into the wall, cracking the drywall and leaving a fist sized impression. He left his hand pressed into the dent and twisted it back and forth. “You really got to give it to the bitch,” He said. “She set out to create the perfect sex toy, and she did it.” Hiroshi gave a bitter laugh.
Daisuke was watching his friend with the wide eyes of someone watching an accident happening.
Oblivious to his friend, Hiroshi continued. “She wound me up, and wound me up and wound me up!” he chanted, twisting his hand in the dented drywall, which was now showing traces of red. “And then she turned me on, and I’ve been running on my own ever since. She doesn’t have to do anything. I’m the perfect sex toy. I give her exactly what she wants.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
back in the ‘game’ room, Ranma shuddered as a shower of cold water rinsed her off. A part of her mind, the part not quivering in horror, thought, now she uses water?
Ranma was still hanging upside down from the spreader bar, her torso and arms secured in a web work of rope. She had thought that the moment Daisuke had pulled the plug out of her ass had been the worst in her life. Worse than the rapes, the mouth fucking, worse than anything. And then Hiroshi’s mom had started to clean her.
Ranma’s mind shied away from even thinking about the last hour. Instead she welcomed the icy water as it sluiced over her body, washing away the dried saliva. She didn’t even mind when the woman played the shower head over her raw, newly bald, cunt. Anything to drive the memory of that steady lap, lap, lap, out of her mind.
And the really sick thing was, she’d liked it. Her body had quivered, her clit, still held by the little rubber band had swollen against it, her nerves had seemed to catch fire. She’d had several orgasms. It had been far worse than feeling pleasure at the boys hands. This poor woman had been enslaved by her own son, made to do things that Ranma would not have believed if she hadn’t experienced them first hand, and she Ranma, had taken pleasure from it. She was disgusting.
Ranma twitched as Hiroshi’s mom started scrubbing her body with a wet cloth, starting at her groin and working up her thighs. Ranma fought to not take pleasure from it, not from this poor woman. “Don’t worry,” Ranma gasped. “I’ll get us both out of here. You wait, I’ll get free, and then you’ll never have to see that bastard Hiroshi again.”
The nude woman stopped what she was doing and for the first time the look of detached bliss faded from her face and she looked down at Ranma with a puzzled expression on her face. Then her countenance cleared and she dropped the cloth across Ranma’s cunt and walked away.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Daisuke blinked when Hiroshi’s mom walked into the kitchen. Hiroshi turned from the wall that was smeared with his blood and stared at his mother as she walked over to a drawer, opened it and extracted a large knife. Closing the drawer, she left, all without looking at or acknowledging the boys in any way.
“I told her to clean Ranma till we came back,” Hiroshi said with a frown. “She always does what I tell her, no matter what.” Too true. He’d once told her to assume the slave position, kneeling legs spread, hands behind her back, while he watched some TV in the other room. He’d forgotten about her, gone to bed, got up, gone to school, and come back, to find her still kneeling where he had left her, her face contorted in blissful agony as her legs screamed at the strain. Hiroshi had never forgotten to put his toy away again after that.
“Why do you suppose she wanted the knife?” Daisuke asked.
“I don’t. . . Oh shit!” Hiroshi shouted, running out of the room. He’d had a sudden horrible thought. What if his mom was not eager for competition for his attentions?
Tue Jun 15 15:23:14 2004