The Predator Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven

We were both pretty tired so the shower was mostly sensual, not sexual at all. But what the hell, it's always fun showering with a woman. And I did enjoy exploring her big ass and soft rolls.

I laid out her Depends and the tightest jeans she had along with a T-Shirt advertising the local animal shelter, also a size too small for her. I did NOT lay out a bra for her.

She giggled as she squeezed into the jeans. I liked the way her fat rolled over them all the way around. The way she was being squeezed, I noticed that she was forming cellulite dimples that hadn't been there before.

I liked it.

The way the T-shirt fit, every little movement showed a peek of skin above the tight jeans. I thought she looked good as I did her makeup for her, fluffed her hair, and told her how good she looked.

She turned suddenly and threw her arms around my neck, kissing me hard and messing up her lipstick in the process.

"Thank you, David," she said, clinging to me like a baby monkey.

"For what?" I said, patting her back.

"For making me feel pretty," she said.

I chuckled and said, "well, except for your smeared lipstick. Now sit," and I guided her back to her chair in front of the mirror.

I scrubbed her mouth, redid her lipstick, and took her hand.

The bruise on her cheek was still dark and obvious but it was fading a little. I made a note to myself to renew it before long.

I was dressed as she was, jeans and a T-shirt, mine advertising a restaurant I used to frequent.

"All right," I said, "let's go see if Darla has an emergency beyond the heat in her panties."

She giggled at that.

I knew the way and it was only about 10 minutes to Darla's place.

I pulled into the driveway behind a car I didn't recognize.

"Hmmmmmmmm," I said, "you know that car?"

She giggled and said, "I know nothing of cars David. No, I don't know whose it is."

"Well," I said, getting out of the car, then running around to open her door and helping her out, "let's see what sort of shit Darla and somebody have gotten themselves into."

She giggled and said, "is it wicked of me to hope it's something bad."

I laughed and said, "nope. I do too if we're being honest."

I used the key I had been given to open the front door and we went in.

There was nobody in sight.

"Helloooo?" I called softly.

No answer.

As he headed down the hall to the kitchen I saw the door to the basement, to the dungeon, was open.

I turned and grinned at Doris.

"Well, well, well," I said, "this should be very interesting."

Her smile was, as the saying goes, ear-to-ear.

She giggled, a little crazily I thought.

I stuck my head in the door to the dungeon and called, softly, "hello?"

"Down here, David," I heard Darla call.

I grinned at Doris, took her hand, and started downstairs.

The first to greet us was Darla. She looked up and her eyes fell. She sighed theatrically and said, "of course."

At the bottom of the steps, I could see the problem. In the far corner, in that odd contraption I had been kind of fascinated by, I could see a woman.

Darla, herself, was a sight. She was in black leather, obviously in full dominatrix mode. She actually looked pretty damn good. Her makeup was severe, her hair slicked back, her face very pale setting off scarlet lips, and very dark eye shadow. Her eyebrows were very dark and thick. The leather shorts were skin-tight, pushing out little bulges of fat at the tops of her thighs. She had on fishnet thigh highs and was in 4" platform shoes, stilettos would have sunk into the dirt floor. Heavy black leather bracelets and a heavy leather collar finished the look. It was a good look on her.

"So," I said, "what's the emergency?"

"She's stuck," she said simply.

I laughed and said, "show me."

We went over to the contraption and for the first time, I got a good look at the woman stuck in it.

She was attractive bordering on pretty in that wholesome, round-faced, girl-next-door, freckled blonde way. She was buxom, it appeared, but it was hard to be certain since she had a shiny chrome or stainless steel belt, about a foot wide that appeared to have her waist squeezed down to about 20 inches. Two wingnuts had been tightened, and her flesh bulged out of both the top and bottom of the steel. It had to be constricting her breathing.

But that wasn't the worst of her problems. The contraption, looking kind of like a set of adjustable monkey bars you might find on a school playground, had her locked into a very uncomfortable position. One bar was under her hips a second over her back on the pad of fat pushed out above the steel belt, and a third under her chest. Her arms were over the third bar. Her breasts were being compressed between two plates. All in all, it looked like she was in some sort of medieval torture device updated to the 21st century.

"And who do we have here?" I asked, being pleasant, as if we were meeting on the street or something.

"This is Rene," Darla said.

"Well Rene," I said, "you seem to have yourself in quite a pickle here."

"Yes," she sort of groaned.

I patted her on the head and turned to Darla.

"And you want me to fix this?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Welllllllllllll," I said, deliberately drawing out the consonant, "here's the deal sweet cheeks. And it's not negotiable. If you don't like it just say no and I'll take my fiance here to dinner and you can call 911. Understand?"

She nodded.

"UNDERSTAND?" I snapped, "say the words."

"I understand," she said, her eyes downcast.

"Okay. First, the fee. I've changed my mind. There will be a $50 stupidity surcharge so I'll get $300 as soon as I get the lovely Rene out of her predicament."

She nodded.

"GODDAMIT," I snapped, "SAY THE FUCKING WORDS before the rate goes up again."

"Yes, I understand," she said, jumping a little.

"But there are a couple of conditions," I went on.

"What?" she asked.

"Look at Doris's pretty face," I said.

She looked.

"See how I've marked her?" I asked.

"Yes," she said in a very soft voice.

"Well, I don't think she should be the only one marked like that at the Dance on Friday night at our table," I said.

She looked up and met my eyes, understanding starting to grow.

"So, first, you are going to agree to join us at our table," I said.

"Okay," she said, her eyes getting a little shiny as she saw it coming.

"And your face will be marked too," I said.

"You're going to hit me?" she asked and I chuckled.

"Oh no," I said, "Doris is going to do that. My hand is for her pretty face only."

Her eyes got big.

"Say you understand and agree," I said.

Meanwhile, Doris's hand had gotten tight on my arm and when I looked over I could see that she was flushed with excitement.

"I understand," Darla said.

"AND AGREE!" I snapped.

"Oh God," she moaned, "and agree."

"Good girl," I said and then turned to Rene, stuck in the machine.

"Same deal for you, toots," I said, squatting so my eyes were even with hers.

"I'm married," she said, in an almost perfect non sequitur.

"And?" I asked.

"How would I explain a bruise in my face?" she asked.

"Dunno, don't care," I said, flashing The Grin.

I stood and took Doris's hand.

"I guess that's a 'no,'" I said, "come on honey, let's get something to eat."

"No, please," Darla said.

"Please don't," Rene said.

I turned.

"Them's my terms ladies," I said, "make up your fucking minds. I'm hungry."

"RENEEEE," Darla sort of stage whispered, "say yes. We'll figure something out."

"Yes," Rene said, although not loudly, the belt and her position making it hard to draw enough breath to really yell.

"Well, all righty then," I said, and crooked my finger, beckoning Darla.

She came, hesitantly, but she came and stood before us.

"On your knees," I said.

Her eyes were big and pleading as she got to her knees.

I moved behind Doris, my hands on her shoulders, and said, "have at her. But if you think there'll be blood you probably should take of your shirt."

She leaned back against me, her head back, and said, "God, I love you."

She peeled off her T-shirt.

Her grin was a little crazy.

"Remember ME, Darla?" she said, looming over the other woman.

"It's me, FAT DORIS," she said and slapped Darla across the face hard enough to make her head snap around.

I watched as Darla regained her balance, back on her knees, her cheek reddening. There were tears streaming down her face but there was something else too, a hint of a smile. "Oh fuck," I thought to myself, "she likes it."

"It's me, DORIS THE PIG," she said and slapped her again.

She went through "two-ton Doris," "Doris the Cow," and "Doris Won't Fit Through the Door," before I stopped her.

That's enough, I said, restraining her. She was panting, sweating a little, and her eyes were unfocused.

"Easy," I said, chuckling softly, holding her to me, calming her.

Once she settled down I took time to look at Darla. She was on her knees, a slight trickle of blood from her nose, and her cheek was swollen, already darkening with a bruise.

"I think that's enough for now," I said, and she nodded against me.

"Now, let's see what we can do for the luckless Rene," I said. I pointed at Darla and said, "stay."

The contraption binding Rene had a series of electric motors operated by buttons located at different spots. It all looked pretty simple to operate although one hell of a lot of thought and engineering had gone into it. Push a button with the up arrow and that bar would move up. Hit the down arrow and it would go down. There were a dozen different boxes with their matched buttons.

And not a damn one of them was working.

I looked around the basement and finally found the circuit breaker box. I assumed there would be a thrown breaker and the problem would be solved.

But no. They were all set.

I went back to the contraption and followed the main wire thinking there might be a fuse or a circuit breaker outside of the panel.

No luck.

Then I remembered a lady with whom I had shared a trip back east in a travel trailer. I started looking around the room, at the various outlets, looking for one with a GFI (that's a ground fault interrupter if you care). And there it was, on the wall behind the rack (yes, one of those things designed to stretch the human body). When I pushed the button I heard a satisfying "click."

I grinned and went back to the contraption. I looked it over and pushed the down button for the middle rod, the one across the small of her back. A motor hummed and she yelled as the bar moved down fractionally, forcing her back to arch even more radically.

"Cool," I said, pushing the "up" button at her hips drawing a scream. I suppose it did hurt.

"Now Rene," I said, moving around and squatting to meet her at her eye level, "you understand that if I let you out of this I want you to go to my fiance here and get to your fucking knees, right?"

She nodded frantically and I snapped, "SAY THE WORDS BEFORE I START PLAYING WITH THE BUTTONS."

"Yes," she sort of gasped, "I understand."

"All right then," I said and moved to the side of the machine.

I pushed the button that held the bar compressing her breasts and she screamed again.

"Oops," I said, chuckling, and hit the opposite button. That really had been a mistake.

I worked my way around, lowering the bar under her chest, raising the one over her back, and lowering the one under her hips so she could finally crawl out of the machine.

"Stand up," I said.

She was really pretty attractive. She was heavy chested, her breasts I guessed at a legitimate D cup with large dark areolas and nipples. Her pubic hair was a natural blonde's pale brown, curly and thick. Her hips flared nicely, and her ass was firm. All in all, a fine figure of a woman.

"Go on," I said, pointing to where Darla was still on her knees with Doris looming over her.

Doris was under control by now, but I kept an eye on her.

She worked her way through her litany - "Fat Doris - SLAP," "Doris the Pig - SLAP," and the rest.

"Okay honey," I said gently, "get dressed and let's go eat."

I went and stood in front of Darla and said, "I prefer cash and I'll be by tomorrow."

Darla didn't say anything but at least her eyes were dry. Rene was still crying when I took Doris's hand and we went upstairs.

"God, David," she said, "take me home, please. I'm about to explode."

I chuckled and said, "hell no. I'm starved."

"All right then," she said, "but hold off before we leave."

As I watched she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and slipped her hand under the Depends and started masturbating furiously.

I held her hand, watching, interested.

"It's exciting," I said, my voice soft and persuasive, "having that kind of power."

She was panting a little with what she was doing.

"Feeling that sting in your hand as you slap a woman," I went on.

"Seeing the fear in her eyes," I sort of crooned.

The little car was actually rocking a little the way she was working her pussy.

"Seeing her tears," I went on.

She was grunting now with the effort she was making.

"Watching her face swell and the bruise form," I said just as she grunted and threw her head back, her body rigid.

I waited while she got her breathing back under control, patted her head, and put the car in gear.

It took all the way to the restaurant, a few minutes drive, for her to completely get herself together.

Once again it went quiet when we entered the place, hand in hand. She greeted several people as we went to what I was starting to think of as "our table."

She smelled of aroused pussy.

I liked it.

Over our ice tea, waiting for dinner (open-face roast beef sandwich for me, the patty melt for her) she started talking.

"David," she said, "am I crazy?"

I laughed and said, "a little kinky maybe, but not crazy."

"The thing is," she went on, "if you hadn't stopped me I think I'd still be hitting them. Jesus, I never imagined anything like that."

"You'll look good," I said, smiling, brushing a stray hair away from her face, "sitting at the head of the table with your well-marked posse around you."

She shivered.

"Will you spank me when we get home?" she asked, meeting my eyes.

"Is that what you want?" I asked.

"Don't answer a question with a question," she said, and I chuckled.

"Okay, then, yes, if that's what you want," I said.

She smiled and shivered.

We ate then, in companionable silence, smiling a lot at each other.

She ordered the chocolate cake with ice cream for dessert. When she met my eye I nodded approvingly.

"I do like your new look," I said, "you look healthy and happy."

"Fat and happy?" she said around a mouthful of cake and ice cream.

"Healthy and happy," I repeated, "how many times do I have to tell you that women are supposed to be soft and round."

She giggled and took another big bite of cake.

"Getting rounder," she said while chewing.

"Good," I said, touching her hand with mine.

I was aware that a couple had come in and were moving toward us.

"Evenin', Doris," the man said.

"Hello, Dan," she said and then said, "where are my manners, David, Dan, Dan, David," she said making a traditional introduction.

I stood and offered my hand. He hesitated, quite obviously, but took it.

"Pleased to meet you," I said and he muttered something like "you too."

"And this is Phyllis," she said. I offered my hand to the woman with Dan, a very matronly looking woman I guessed in her 50s. It was easy to picture her shushing kids in the high school library.

She shook my hand with a strong grip.

It was an awkward tableau. Dan was pretty obviously having trouble deciding if he wanted to look at Doris's cheek or her chest.

And then she decided to flaunt it.

"Care to join us?" she asked.

I wasn't sure how to handle that. Another first for Salida.

"Ummmm," he started, now obviously looking at her cheek, "sure."

He held the chair for Phyllis who sat across from me, next to Doris, and then sat next to me. When the waitress came over he said, "Ice tea, unsweet please."

Doris flashed that predatory grin and touched her cheek. "You're wondering, aren't you," she asked.

Dan didn't say anything, he just nodded. Phyllis made a point of looking on disapprovingly.

Doris reached across and touched Dan's hand.

"I was a naughty girl," she said, smiling now, not grinning, "and David corrected me."

Nobody said anything for a few seconds and she added, "you should try it."

Phyllis made an odd little "harumphing" sound in her throat.

Doris looked at her, frowned, and turned back to Dan.

"Oh Danny, you really SHOULD try it," she said. She looked at him speculatively for a few seconds and then added, "if you'd like, come by my house after dinner and we'll demonstrate."

She took the last big bite of cake and put it in her mouth, chewing very deliberately, and holding his eyes.

I took that as a sign the conversation was over, stood, and took her hand.

"Come on, toots," I said, smiling, "let's go and let these fine folks think about what you said."

I shook hands with Dan again and then turned to Phyllis and lightly brushed her cheek with the backs of my fingers.

"You really SHOULD think about it," I said, smiling at Dan and then heading for the register.

I paid with Doris's credit card, leaving a fat tip, and we left.

On the way home, hand in hand like two teenagers, I couldn't help but laugh.

"You are really getting into this," I said.

She giggled like a little girl and said, "David, I'm fucking WALLOWING in it!"