Taken Back Pt. 02

"Run Samson! Find help!" she screamed up the stairs. He looked up at Clyde's approaching figure and made a run for it, but Clyde was faster, catching him by the scruff of his shirt. He left the basement door open so that she was forced to watch him bring the belt down on her son. He screamed, covering his backside with his hands while Clyde struggled to hold him still so that he could whip him a couple more times.

"This isn't because you're bad Son; this is to teach your mother that there are consequences for her actions. If she loved you more, she'd be a better wife." Clyde explained as he brought his belt down a few more times. Lyndsay swore up at him, every curse she could think of, pulling so hard against her restraints that the chains broke through her skin. When Clyde finally stopped Samson collapsed to floor in tears. Her throat went hoarse from screaming and she collapsed on the floor utterly defeated. Clyde shut the door and locked it behind him. He threw his belt on the table and knelt down beside Samson.

"I am sorry Son, I didn't want to have to do that but it is the only way I can discipline your mother. I hope this is the only time I have to do this." Samson didn't reply, the burning in his backside radiated throughout his body as he struggled to control his sobs. Snot ran down his face as he looked up at Clyde.

"You are NOT my father," he spat. Clyde grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look him in the eyes.

"This is your last warning; I do not want to hear you utter those words again, am I clear?" Samson nodded.

"Good, now get up, we have more chores to do."

***********

When Lyndsay heard the door open she cried in relief.

"Is he okay? How...how bad did you hurt him?"

"He's fine, he's tough. Not going to doubt me again, are you?"

"No, I'm sorry, I'll be good," she promised. She had to; she'd never out live the guilt boiling in her stomach. She was the reason her son had been whipped.

"Good. I am glad to hear it Skye." He walked closer and she knew what he wanted, She kneeled before him as he unzipped his jeans and pulled himself free. She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around him. She cringed at the slightly salty taste of his sweaty skin, but she ignored it and continued. She licked him up and down, feeling him grow bigger and harder the more she worked. She bobbed her head enthusiastically, taking more and more of him into her mouth until she could feel him pressing against the back of her throat. He groaned, his hands resting on either side of her head. She didn't fight against him or try to push him away. She wanted him happy so that he wouldn't hurt her son again. She gagged as he started shoving his cock all the way into her throat. She struggled to force herself to relax, her jaw aching and her gag reflex threatening to puke. Although with nothing in her stomach, she knew all that would come up would be bile and it would hurt.

His thrusts became more frantic as she let him take over. His hands gripped the sides of her head as he shoved her down on the entire length of him and let her sit there, gagging, struggling to breath but couldn't with him shoved so deep. When he finally pulled out she coughed and choked but he didn't wait for her to hold her breath before he did it again. She began to count, taking deep breath as he pulled out and slowly letting the air out through her nose as he went in. He growled as he began thrusting harder, bruising the back of her throat until he gave one final thrust, she could feel him coat the back of her throat with his seed. She had no choice but to swallow, and when he finally pulled out a little dripped down her chin as he smeared the tip of his cock on her lips.

"Clean it up," he ordered huskily. She stuck her tongue out and cleaned the last bit of him off her chin and lips. He ran a hand through her hair and smiled.

"You did good Skye."

"When can I see Samson?" she asked softly.

"Soon, you have a long way to go Skye." He announced.

"Just please, don't...don't hurt him. He's a good boy, don't blame him for my actions," She pleaded.

"As long as you do as I tell you, the boy will be safe." Lyndsay nodded in understanding. Was this what made the women so afraid of Georgie? Was this the reason they'd become mindless slaves? She was scared, not for herself or her own safety but for Samson's.

"Since you're down here, I expect you to keep your space clean; laundry will be your responsibility. When you are not cleaning you will be reading the bible. I will quiz you on what you have read, so don't lie to me. If I catch you in a lie, no matter how small you may think it is; that's my belt. You try to escape? Or fight me? I'll bring out the whip. While it's not the same one my Daddy used, but it will do the job. And it won't be your hide it tears into; am I understood?" Again, she nodded.

"I'll be good," she swore. She had to; there wasn't much of a choice. She could easily see this was not the Same Clyde who'd kidnapped her all those years ago. He'd had a gentle side, a loving side. Even a slight innocence to him; but this Clyde, the one she'd orphaned, crippled and left alone to die...he was something else. Something new and it was all because of her. There was slight perversion to him now; he didn't quite talk like himself. Lyndsay furiously wiped the tears from her face as she looked up at him. She knew the right words to say, the right way to say them. She'd never forgotten her lessons all those years ago.

"What shall I clean first?" she asked softly. Clyde smiled at her question and walked to the other end of the basement.

"You can start with the laundry; cleaning supplies are under the sink. I expect progress by the time I return." He handed her a bible, and a book mark. Without another word he walked up the stairs and locked the door behind him.

Samson was in his room lying on his stomach over his bed, his backside hurt. He'd never experienced such violence before. His mother didn't even watch violent things on TV, she'd never raised a hand to him, never even raised her voice. He didn't care if this awful man was his father, he didn't want him. He'd spent a long time wishing he could meet his father, imagined playing video games together, tossing a football, all the things he'd read about or heard about through his friends. He loved his mother, but she often worked a lot, and wasn't much into tossing a ball around. Clyde stood in the doorway and looked down at him. Samson immediately turned the other way, eyes red from crying and throat burning from his screams.

"Son, it's time to do your chores."

"I don't feel good, can't I do them later?" he asked softly. He heard Clyde's footsteps as he entered the room, he walked to the side of the bed that Samson was facing and knelt beside the bed.

"This is all difficult for you, I understand that. There is an adjustment for all this change. It's not going to be easy, but you're strong. As long as your mother does as she is supposed to, I will not have to punish you. Your mother is in a very dark place in her mind and soul, she cares very little for herself, I could beat her until I turn blue and it will teach her nothing. If she is a good mother, she will learn to be a good wife. Let us pray for God to give her the strength to obey, shall we?" Samson wanted to scream no and turn the other way, but he knew deep down in his gut that telling this man no was not the best of ideas. Samson pushed himself from the bed and knelt beside Clyde, clasped his hand and prayed.

When they finished Clyde gave Samson a pat on the back and stood.

"Now, as they say in Proverbs 13:4 'The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.' So let's get to work." Samson shrugged, having not grown up with much religious influence; he had no idea what Proverbs were, but he didn't argue. Clyde led him back out to gather eggs, than they fed the chickens. Clyde showed him all the tools he kept in the shed, explained their names, what they were for. There was a small pen with a few pigs, and they had one cow. Samson had never been near a farm, only time he'd seen this many animals was a petting zoo. The cow nuzzled against him and he laughed as he fed her more hay.

"Have you ever milked a cow?" Samson's eyes went wide and he shook his head. Clyde gathered a towel, a small stool, an empty bucket, a full bucket and some Vaseline than he patted the stool and smiled.

"Well c'mon over son, I'll show you how it's done." Samson sat down, wincing slightly and Clyde handed him a sponge.

"First thing we have to do is wash Mabelle's udder. We want to make sure that when we start milking her, that's all we get and none of the debris she picks up around the field." Clyde picked up a sponge and began slowly and gently washing the udder, only after a minute or so did Samson join him. They rinsed and Clyde patted her dry with the towel. He pulled out the Vaseline and slapped a dab on Samson's hands and showed him how to rub it in.

"When milking a cow, we're going to be pulling and rubbing against her teats, last thing we want to do is chaff her skin. Mabelle would not appreciate that. We start with sort of nudging her udder, it helps her to relax so that the milk can flow easily." Clyde took his fist and pushed it gently against the udder, Samson watched carefully, noticing the bruises on his knuckles. He stared at Clyde's knuckles, wondering whether the bruises came from him or his mother. Clyde's voiced snapped him to attention.

"Now, watch carefully, we're going to grip right here, at the top of the teat, with our finger and thumb, it's to prevent the milk from backing up. That can lead to an infection. And if we weren't to catch it in time, we'd have to put her down. Now forget everything you know about milking a cow, if you know anything. You don't yank or pull really, you want to sort of massage in a ripple motion." Clyde grabbed two of Mabelle's teats, one diagonally across from the other. His fingers came down in almost waving ripple motion and liquid shot from the teat and into the bucket. Samson watched Clyde for a few minutes and then Clyde nodded and Samson reached out testily, his hands were shaking, cheeks blushing.

"What are you blushing for?" Clyde chuckled. Samson turned even redder.

"It's weird to touch a cow's boob," Samson confessed after a few moments. Clyde shook his head and laughed even harder.

"Breasts are nothing to be embarrassed about son. They're created to nourish life. Whether that be a small calf or a baby. They're a beautiful natural thing, nothing to be embarrassed about." Clyde moved to sit behind him and reached around Samson and placed his large hands over the boys. He helped Samson grab and showed him the movement. After a few successful squirts he sat back and watched as he continued all on his own.

"You're a natural." And for the first time since he'd awoken to the sound of a gun going off, Samson smiled genuinely, feeling quite proud of himself.