Mother - Hostile Makeover Ch. 06

Ethan Chase had lied to his mother. He'd said he was not sentimental about the tools and machinery he surrounded himself with. But there was a single exception, her convertible. She'd owned the Miata for as long as he could remember. It was a graceful, sexy little thing that grew more beautiful as the years passed. He loved its lines and the throaty note of its engine.

It reminded him of Lauren herself. But he would never tell her that. Certainly not in those terms.

And it needed his help.

Replacing the crankshaft meant pulling the engine. When he got the block clear, he noticed the black box. It sat against the inner fender just in front of the firewall, where no such thing belonged.

He didn't touch the box. He walked around the front of the car several times, studying it from different angles. He got down on the crawler with a light. He could reach it, but only because there was nothing in his way.

Whoever had placed it there would have had to move the engine, which meant a hoist and tools.

He surveyed the vehicles and parts in his hangar. What else was assembled and running? He'd just pulled the carb limiter off of the Dnepr that he'd had shipped over from Yugoslavia. This afternoon would be the time to find out if the thing could merge onto the interstate without killing him.

He kick-started the bike and set off to visit Lew Bradley. He had questions for the attorney, and they had nothing at all to do with corporate law.

The Bradleys lived in the foothills, in a new Spanish Colonial on a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood with long green lawns that were a couple of missed waterings away from turning back to dust. A slender young woman opened the front door as Ethan parked on the curved flagstone driveway.

"Hey, Ethan." Peyton Bradley waved at the old motorcycle and sidecar. "That is so cool. And loud."

"Hi, Peyton. Your dad home?"

"Uh-uh. Don't know where he's gone. Come on, get out of the heat. It's like, what, a hundred and three? Can I get you something?"

"Glass of water, maybe."

"Sparkling?"

"Tap is good. Thanks."

Peyton was a pretty girl whose emotional affect was situated at the junction of cheerful and vacant. Ethan was more attracted to older women. Women who'd lived lives that showed in their eyes and the way they carried themselves. They liked him too. During his abbreviated college career, he'd had affairs with a forty-something psychology professor, an ancient history lecturer, and two comp sci instructors. Ms. Maddy Jones, his psych professor, had taken the direct approach: one day after class she'd locked the lecture hall door, dropped to her knees, and practically gnawed through the front of his jeans.

The history teacher had stuck with the classics and simply offered him a better grade for sex. He hadn't needed the academic help, but he'd enjoyed the extra tutoring.

So Ethan accepted, based on experience, that he had his share of natural gifts. But human beings confused the hell out of him. As fortune had permitted, he'd taken refuge in the world of algorithms, machines, and rational data.

"Irina might know where Dad is," Peyton grabbed a plastic cup from the dishwasher. "She's sunbathing out back."

"Was." Irina stood in the doorway, tall and tan and wearing only a white thong. Her brown shoulders, the soft peaks of her nipples, and her flat tummy glistened with oil. "I should thank you for making all that racket in the driveway. I'd have napped myself right into the burn ward. Foolish of me."

"You want ice?" Ethan caught the edge in Payton's voice. Losing a guy's attention to her exhibitionist stepmother apparently irritated her. She handed him the drink and left the kitchen.

"Lew went down to the office for some papers he's got to review over the weekend. He should be back in an hour or two. You can call him down there, I'm sure." Standing less than a foot from Ethan, she was tall enough that she barely needed to lift her chin to meet his eyes. "Unless there's something I can help with?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I just wanted to ask him why he'd pay a mechanic to put a GPS tracker on my mom's car."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "You're right. You'd have to ask him that yourself."

"Irina, that's not the way to play it. You're supposed to say it like this: 'What? I don't understand, why would he do that? I don't know what you're talking about.' Something like that. But make it your own."

She bit her lip. "I don't really think--"

"So, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you had your husband bug my mom's car because the Novaks told you to."

"Lew's warned me that you're a clever one."

"It's my profession to find patterns in random data. This one's obvious once you know to look for it. Isn't the most attractive thing about Lew his proximity to our money?"

"Easily," Irina agreed. "Ethan, we don't mean anyone harm. Everything we're doing will benefit you in ways you can't yet imagine." She leaned in close, smelling of coconut and orange blossoms. "Let me--let us--show you."

Her breath was a furnace. The sunlight through the window behind her haloed her fine dark hair, growing inexplicably brighter, eating into the shape of her head and burning away all detail and shadow until she completely dissolved into the flare. Ethan tried to shield his eyes from the fire, but moving was like walking on the ocean floor. Irina kept talking but the words were of no language that he knew. A roar like a jet engine rose inside his head, drowning her out.

Peyton's chipmunk soprano cut through the noise, echoing from the far side of the cosmos.

"Don't let him hurt himself!"

He pivoted drunkenly and grabbed with both hands at the melting granite edge of the kitchen island. It shrank from him like a frightened octopus and crumbled to sand, floating away. His hands came loose from his arms, chasing it until everything disappeared into the smothering dark.

Little by little, the watery pale light of a winter moon resolved into a frosted glass lamp in the center of an overhead fan. Ethan lay counting its turning wooden blades. Four. No, five.

To his left was a window looking out at the mountains. Long evening shadows filled the pockets and valleys of the range. He could raise and turn his head freely, but his wrists and ankles were bound by soft leather cuffs fitted with bolt snaps, which in turn were fastened to steel rings attached to wide straps made of heavy webbing. The webbing was looped and buckled around the mattress on which he lay. He was naked. It didn't bother him, as he was fairly sure the thousand-mile-long body strapped to the bed belonged to someone else. The erection jutting up from between his legs could not be his. He was big enough, but this thing was a stony, priapic monument. And anyway, it made no sense for him to be aroused.

"Wuh..." he shook his head hard to clear it. That was a mistake.

"Give yourself a moment, dear. There's no hurry." Irina's voice. She and Peyton stood by the bed looking down at him. They were naked as well. Okay, the hard-on made some sense, after all.

"I did good, huh, Mom?" Peyton leaned against her stepmother and offered her lips for a kiss. Irina's mouth closed on hers, elegant fingers caressed the arches of the young blonde's pelvis.

"Offhand, I...can...think...of five hibib...uh, hypnotic drugs that are tasteless in water." The stumbling, alien croak of Ethan's own voice startled him. He stared at his stubbornly erect dick again. "I'm betting that Libidramine isn't like that, though."

"Water? Oh, that was the benzos," Irina said. "You won't remember, but by the time we offered you Lib, you were more than willing. Enthusiastic, I'd say. You even helped us get you up here and into our playset. Thank God. I wasn't sure that the two of us together could carry you if you completely passed out."

Ethan nodded weakly. "I guess I just flunked Private Eye 101."

"When you saw Irina, I could've handed you a glass of sriracha and you'd have drunk it," Peyton teased.

Ethan hoped that keeping up aimless chatter would persuade Irina he was still fuzzy-headed. He hoped that he wasn't still more doped up than he thought he was.

Taking stock of his predicament, it was easy to see that neither woman was armed. The bondage rig he found himself in was as Irina had described it--no more sturdy than a playset. It shouldn't take more than two good strong yanks to tear something loose and to break free.

"You guys can yak if you want. I'm gonna play with his cock." Peyton climbed onto the bed. Her dark blue eyes were alight and her lips moistly parted as her finger circled the rim of Ethan's glans.

"Ah-ungh!" Overwhelming pleasure shot through Ethan's brain like a thunderbolt. His drugged sense of detachment from his body shattered and all thought of escape vanished in an instant; he had never been more physically present in his life.

Peyton giggled and clapped her hands.

"I'm afraid that you may have taken rather a lot of pills. There really was no stopping you." Irina smirked. "I called Lew and asked him not to hurry home. I promise you, he'll do whatever I request. You're about to find out exactly why. Lucky you."

Peyton kissed Ethan's cock. He screamed and convulsed against his restraints. The intensity of the stimulation was shocking.

"Oh, he likes that! He gets harder than Daddy. And he's a lot bigger."

"He's young. He has superior stamina, and he's in excellent physical condition," Irina explained. "I'm sure you'll find him a more satisfying fuck even than your beloved father." She approached her stepdaughter from behind and reached between the girl's legs. Peyton's eyes widened and she squealed. "Go on and suck him off now, little frog."

Peyton's mouth gaped open as automatically as if Irina had flipped a switch inside her. She lowered her head to swallow as much of Ethan's cock as she could. Her tongue swirled around his knob and she bobbed up and down, making a gurgling sound deep in her throat while her lips squeezed and milked his shaft.

He bucked spastically up off the mattress, gritting his teeth against crying out again.

Irina lay next to him and stroked his chest. She bit his ear playfully. "Peyton was so wonderfully naïve when we first met. So impressionable. Exploring her sexuality while under the amplifying influence of Lib has encouraged her spontaneity. She's extremely open to direction--especially when accompanied by the right kind of physical attention. She's my little slut, now." Irina tweaked his nipple, sending an exquisite tremor that reached to his balls. "She can be yours, too."

Teetering at the edge of sanity, Ethan tried to focus on something, anything other than the ecstatic bombardment of his senses. He struggled to recall Maddy Jones's class lectures on behavioral conditioning. Stimulus-response. Neurology...dopamine...the McGill studies.

Ages ago, researchers at McGill University had used electrodes to stimulate the pleasure centers of rats' brains, rewarding them for learning and repeating desired tasks. It had worked so well that, eventually, other doctors had tried to modify human behavior the same way--specifically, human sexual behavior. The ethical objections to that had been strenuous and, as far as anyone knew, succeeded at putting an end to the experiments.

Yet, the reward of orgasmic pleasure had proved to be far better at changing behavior than was punishment and deprivation. Give people a taste of something that made them feel good enough and they would do anything to get more of it. And if researchers gave control of the pleasure source to the experimental subjects, they'd give up everything else to indulge.

It was the very definition of addiction. In the case of the McGill rats, some had died of starvation chasing their electric bliss.

Peyton Bradley held Ethan's cock in both hands, eagerly sliding it in and out of her drooling mouth. She loved nothing better in the world than this. The rush of a man's blood to the engorged knob of his prick, making it grow larger still, stretching her lips tight around its girth, was sheer animal magic. She loved the wet tickling of her pussy cream leaking out past her cunt lips. Most of all, she loved the taste of cum; she never got enough of semen flooding her throat and filling up her mouth. God, how she longed to taste it again! She sucked greedily on Ethan's prick. He thrashed so hard against his bonds that she was afraid he'd throw her off, and she dug her fingers into the sinewy flesh of his thighs to steady herself as much as possible.

All the while, Irina's nimble fingers moved over Peyton's vulva and clitoris, silently coaxing her to let go and lose herself completely in the sensual thrill of sucking cock. Peyton so adored Irina that it seemed strange now to remember how crushed she'd been when the exotic, sensual woman had first entered her father's life. Dismay had turned quickly to devotion when Irina had introduced her to Libidramine, taken her to bed, and passed a long night fondling and fingering and licking her to mind-blowing climax after climax.

And then, her new stepmother had taught her how to fuck her father.

Irina was Peyton's north star, her teacher and her lover and her joy. Most importantly of all, Irina was her source of Lib.

"Ye- ow!" Ethan shook violently and jerked his ass upward, slamming his cock all the way down Peyton's throat. This was it--she pumped his prick madly as volley after volley of cum shot into her mouth. She clamped her lips tightly around the wide base of his cock, gulping and swallowing, desperate to milk every drop from him, to drain him completely. When his ejaculation slowed to a dribble she kept jacking him off, pulling her lips from his cock to kiss up and down the hard, saliva-soaked rod.

"Stay hard. Pleasepleaseplease. I need to fuck now. I need a cock in my pussy so bad."

"Don't worry about that, dear." Irina's throaty chuckle recalled Ethan from the edge of unconsciousness. He'd come so hard that he'd nearly blacked out, and his mind was as clouded as when he'd first awoken from his drugged slumber. She cradled his balls in her hand, and his sack tightened and swelled again as she rolled his testicles between her fingers. "See, what did I tell you? This stud is good for a few more rounds before we'll have to let him rest. And he'll recover quickly." She sat up and brushed a few strands of pale, sweat-matted hair out of Peyton's eyes, kissing her on the bridge of her nose. Peyton's eyes sparkled as Ethan's cock reared up, as hard as if he hadn't gotten his rocks off in days.

"Lick his balls," Irina commanded, and Peyton dropped her head to obey. "I want to suck his cock for a while." Irina sighed and said to Ethan, "I am so starved of good fuck-meat these days. As you might imagine."

"So then, the bloom is off the rose with old Lew?" Ethan adopted the most offhanded and mocking tone that he could manage. Forming words was hard, but the first shock of this new kind of drug experience was receding. He wanted to keep Irina talking. He assumed that she must use Lib herself, and Lew apparently functioned, more or less, under its influence as well. So Ethan hoped that he could habituate to it and find a way out of this captivity on his terms.

Irina sniffed. "Lew's a utility. He's a means to an end."

"What do you think of that, Peyton? You like the way New Mom talks about your Daddy?" Ethan couldn't tell if the girl even heard him, so intent was she on her ball-sucking.

"You needn't bother. She's outgrowing her Daddy crush. It's not so healthy for a young lady with Peyton's potential to get hung up on an older man who can never truly satisfy her needs. Surely you must agree that Lew is rather poor clay." Irina swiped her tongue-tip across Ethan's cock knob. The effect was intense but not as overpowering as when he had not known what to expect. "You, now you're the future. You're young and highly intelligent. And strong."

"And a partner in the firm you're trying to take over," Ethan prodded. "That's the most important part, and you left it out."

Irina paused in her cock-sucking and regarded him thoughtfully. "It's not so sinister as all that. I'll grant you that some of our ways of engaging with our negotiating partners have been unorthodox."

"Like spying on my mother? "

"Yes, well...In the end, all of you will profit handsomely from our merger. And I hope this afternoon to demonstrate the very personal benefits that will come to you, Ethan, by choosing to side with us."

"You might not believe this, Irina, but I've had better offers than 'drug-addicted sex slave.' Strange but true."

Irina laughed. "You're so cute. Oh, I'd love to just keep you here forever. However..." She swallowed his cock and twisted her head from side to side, corkscrewing her lips around him. Lights flashed behind his eyes and he nearly passed out again.

"Fuck now," Peyton murmured with a vacuous smile. She mounted him and slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The tip grazed her pussy and her sex lips spread wide to take him inside. His swollen glans entered her warm, creamy opening and he felt her shudder, the inner sleeve of her cunt flexing around his penetrating shaft.

"So much bigger," she sighed, halting her descent with less than half of his rod buried in her cunt. She wiggled up and down slightly, easing her way a little further down each time. "I gotta get it in me...Oh yeah...that's it, that's the way..." Her determination unnerved Ethan. Her small slit was so tight and she was so intent on her mission that he didn't think he was being too egotistical in worrying that she might injure herself. She must be stretched to the limit.

He needn't have been concerned. Peyton paused only briefly to catch her breath and get used to the massive intruder. Then she rode him, rising and falling, faster and faster, twisting and gyrating insanely.

His heart hammered in his chest like he was running a six-minute mile. Despite having come only minutes before, he was sure that he was seconds away from a second ejaculation. But he didn't orgasm. He couldn't. He lay suspended at that instant just before release, trapped in an indescribable euphoria that just went on and on and on.

Irina straddled Ethan's knees behind Peyton, reaching around to take her stepdaughter's small breasts in her hands. She kneaded the tender white flesh, pinching the young woman's erect nipples. Peyton inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. She bit down on her lower lip and her head rolled to one side. Irina kissed up and down the curve of her stepdaughter's neck so possessively she looked as if she might sprout fangs and go for blood. "Come now, darling. Come on that great...big... cock!"

Peyton stiffened and quaked, climaxing on command. "Atta girl. Come for Mommy." Irina winked at Ethan. "Isn't she a splendid fuck? And she's only going to get better with more experience. More partners."

"You're programming her."

"You are the dramatic one, aren't you? Peyton loves to fuck. Don't you, Peyton?"

"Love to fuck," Peyton repeated dreamily.

"See how happy she is? I'd say such single-minded dedication to pleasure is its own reward, but think about this, Ethan: how much will people pay for happiness? Or at least for total sexual satisfaction?"

Ethan couldn't answer. Everything was being stripped inexorably from his mind but primal rutting instinct, the last shreds of rational thought spinning away in a hurricane of drug-fueled lust.

"Milk him," Irina instructed her stepdaughter. Peyton's pussy contracted around his cock.

"God...gonna...you're killin' me...ungh... /i> mother...fuck..."

"Oh, now there's a thought." Irina moved forward to straddle his face. "Would you like that, Ethan?"

"What?"

"Your mother. You and Lauren. We can make that happen." Irina swung a leg over his head and lowered her pussy onto his face. Crazy with need, he pressed his mouth to her vagina and sucked hungrily, spearing his tongue up into her warm, slick slot. She squirmed contentedly. "Play along, and you can have anything you like. So why not dear old Mom?"