Tom and Gabby Ch. 09 - Linda's Parents

"It's something they're very interested in seeing Gabby. Wendy's particularly looking forward to watching what we do to keep you under control," Tom taunts.

I pull at the wrist straps, deeply unhappy with the idea of this. The material doesn't slacken even slightly.

I despise the idea of Linda's parents seeing what she and Tom do to me. Wendy especially.

I couldn't think of anyone worse to watch me in such a vulnerable state, while having all manner of things done to me.

I look over at her, and she's adorned her trademark smirk again, feeling that she's somehow earned the right to be watching what's about to happen.

"Is it in anyway unclear why you're on the table, this time Gabrielle?" Linda asks, seeking to dismiss the formalities.

I don't answer, too busy watching her vile mother, and the perverse fascination over what's about to be done to me.

"Gabrielle?" Linda summons my attention, her voice deadly calm.

I refuse to acknowledge her previous question.

"Gabby's got a very stubborn streak," Tom commentates for Daz and Wendy. "She refuses to take responsibility when she does anything wrong."

"I can tell that about her," Wendy replies to him, wisely. "It's why she thinks my daughter is to blame for your split."

"Don't worry about what they're saying," Linda speaks to me, icily. "You just need to concentrate on me," she encourages. "In a minute, I'm going to get the wand on your clit, and you won't be able to worry about anything else happening in the room. You'll be far too busy."

I shake my head at her, vehemently.

"I wasn't looking for a reply Gabrielle; I'm just telling you what's going to happen," she diminishes.

"In a few short minutes, all that's going to matter is what's happening in your cunt. The rest of us are going to be watching it happen. We're going to listen to all the noises you make and see all the faces you pull. And there's not a thing you can do to stop it," she tells me, forebodingly.

"Please no," I appeal to her, my voice cracking, shakily.

"You should've thought of this earlier Gabrielle. You know we need to punish you when you do something wrong. Today is no exception. The only difference is that we've got guests over," Linda assures me.

"Your orgasm is going to feel the same way it normally does," she continues. "But, when it's over, and you're thinking a bit more clearly, the reality is really going to sink in. We're going to let you process it and think about the consequences, before we do anything else."

I stare bleakly at her.

"Please," I try again.

"Please what Gabrielle?" she shakes her head. "It's too late for that. Now, Tom and I have had a little think about an appropriate course of action to take. We thought it'd be apt, to let my mum and Daz look through all your toys and choose one for you. And then, they're going to have a try of whatever they choose," she relishes describing the impending events.

"No, please," I plead, horrified by her suggestion. I'm repulsed by the thought of Wendy going anywhere near my pussy, let alone with one of the toys. It's physically nauseating.

I want her nowhere near me, particularly not in an intimate context.

"Again, I'm not asking. I think we need to make a gesture to repair some of the damage you've done to your relationship with them. They're my parents, Gabrielle, so you'll be seeing them on a semi regular basis. Once you and they have built some bridges, you'll be finishing off your afternoon on the fucking machine. Tom's going to put it in the middle of the lounge for us, so we'll all be able to watch you on it, while we have another cup of coffee and a chat," she depicts.

Wendy seems to be listening to what her daughter is telling me and can barely contain her twisted, giddy excitement to be involved in it.

Linda stands and crosses the room to talk quietly with Tom, who nods and mouths a response to whatever she's felt the need to confer with him about.

He moves to the side of the room and leans against the sideboard next to Daz and Wendy.

"Is everyone sitting comfortably?" Linda muses, moving to the microphone stand, and bending it slowly down between my legs. Her parents nod, eagerly.

"I should probably say, before we start, nothing about this is going to be pretty," she prefaces.

"We use the microphone stand so we're able to move around the room while Gabby's under the wand," Tom says softly. "We use a combination of vibrations and words," he explains, making me feel like I'm the feature of some kind of safari tour. "We've gotten to know her dirty little fantasies," he elaborates. "And we use what we know to describe situations around them to her. It really intensifies the pleasure."

"What kind of fantasies? I'm sure she's a twisted freak, isn't she?" Wendy asks, hungry for information to validate her intense dislike for me.

Tom chuckles. "She's got a few that'd raise your eyebrows, Wend. She likes imagining being publicly humiliated, y'know? People watching as things are done to her cunt?" he describes.

"See what I mean, Darren," Wendy nudges Daz. "She's a bloody deviant. She's probably loving all of this!"

"Your presence is certainly going to make things interesting for her," Tom smarmily agrees.

"What else?" Wendy probes.

"She's always liked the more...nonconsensual types of sex. Simulated rape and that type of thing. And she adores watching and listening to Linda and me together. Not that she'd ever admit to it. Sometimes, when we're both tired, and she needs seeing to, we just play her a video of us together, and let it do the hard work for us. It's funny actually," he sniggers. "We recently discovered she's developed a bit of a thing for the idea of Linda getting pregnant. She's insisted on being in the room with us when it happens," Tom discloses.

"What on earth do you mean?" Wendy rebukes, less accepting of this than the other titbits.

"I know, it's a strange one, isn't it? A totally accidental find. She was a bit reluctant to confide in us at first," he describes. Wendy glares at me, disgustedly.

Linda nods over.

"Do you want us to do anything kiddo?" Daz asks her, graciously.

"Not at all," Linda assures him. "I've got this. Shall we make a start?" she presses.

Wendy enthusiastically nods her head and Daz shrugs, somewhat less interested to see me debased.

I take another chance and shout out 'no' again and am met with my much-contested audience laughing at me.

"Nobody was asking you Gabrielle," Linda chortles.

She switches the wand on and wriggles it between my pussy lips. She adjusts the placing while observing me closely, looking for the telltale twitches to inform her it's getting me right. I clench my teeth together and jolt as I feel the vibrations brush perfectly across my clit. Linda notices and holds it in position.

"I've been thinking up a story for you while you've been lying there Gabrielle. And I've designed something in keeping with your little plan," she tells me. "Take a deep breath and imagine that you'd been successful, and had made it all the way to Manchester, in Daz's boot. Think about him letting you out and setting you free to make your way into Manchester City, all by yourself, without Tom or me. I bet that's a nice thought for you?" she sets the scene.

I hear Wendy murmuring to Tom.

"What's she talking about?" she asks, as if she's at the theatre, and trying to be discreet.

"She's just creating a premise Wend. Don't worry. Lind knows exactly what she's doing. She's a master at this now," Tom clarifies.

"Just ignore everyone watching this, Gabrielle," Linda discourages me from being distracted. "Tom's just making sure my parents understand exactly what's happening. Focus on me and what I'm saying."

She proceeds with telling me a 'story' about my thwarted plan having worked. In sorts.

In order to lead up to the story plot, she paints a scenario where I'm staying in a dingy hotel without having any means to pay for it.

As is normal of her 'stories', she paints Tom and herself to be the heroes of the piece and includes details of the fictional hotel manager becoming suspicious of me and contacting them directly, to inform them of my location.

They arrive at the hotel while I'm out and they wait in my room for me to return. It lacks any realism of course, but her words seem to work, and she knows it.

To accelerate my pleasure, she describes me unwittingly returning to the hotel, finding them and trying to resist recapture. She speaks of them chasing me down and using various sex toys and abuses to subdue me into submission in the hotel carpark. She details other hotel guests forming a circle around my re-abduction to prevent my escape, and delightedly watching as Tom and Linda incarcerate me again. I don't know how it ends, as this the point where I'm overcome.

I can hear Tom in the background, graphically narrating every stage of my pleasure and drawing Linda's parents' attention to my involuntary responses. It complicates my resistance against orgasming greatly, as much as I try to fight it.

Wendy's belligerent questioning doesn't help me either. She's transfixed on the process, strangely proud of her daughter for being able to complete the sordid task so adeptly. Tom remains on hand to explain everything.

Daz utters 'Jesus Christ' at regular intervals, dumbfounded at what he's seeing.

As I get closer, I feel my spectators stepping inwards, wanting to see me in detail. The exposition of the situation sends me tumbling over the edge of orgasm.

From start to finish, the process takes about ten minutes.

A warm sensation starts in the base of my pussy, just beneath the wand head, and spreads outward. My body tightens and my arms and legs splay out rigidly. I feel low moans escaping my throat, getting louder as I draw closer to an inevitable climax.

My face warps, and my eyes roll backwards, moving enough to make my eyelids flutter.

I stiffen my hips and pelvis, arching them up frantically, and I gasp for every breath. I feel my pussy starting to dribble excitedly. The juices tickle as they roll down my arse to create a puddle on the table beneath me.

Once the peak has passed, the vibrations are cruelly continued for a few seconds more, prolonging the pleasure.

Eventually, Linda takes pity and turns them off.

I collapse down lame. My heart is hammering in my chest, threatening to break through my ribcage. Every hair on my body feels as though its standing on end, and I'm so hypersensitive that the slightest touch would cause me to squeal.

The room falls silent for a few moments, with neither Daz nor Wendy knowing what to say having witnessed such a macabre display. It'd be the perfect time for applause.

Daz is surprisingly the first to speak. "Christ, that was a disturbing display," he voices.

His voice sounds echoey, as though I'm standing at the bottom of a fifty foot well, hearing the words from afar.

Linda speaks to reassure him. "I hope it wasn't too...distressing for you," she tells him.

"I'm fine kiddo," he insists. "I'm sure missy there is feeling worse than I do about the whole thing."

Tom snorts. "Don't worry about her Daz. She'll just need a few minutes to recover," he expounds.

"Did you see the way she went completely stiff like that?" Wendy exclaims, ardently. "It was like she had an electric shock running through her. And her face? I've never seen anything so ghastly. She looked like she was in pain."

"That's completely normal mum," Linda tells her.

"Don't worry Wend. The only thing hurting in those few seconds is her pride, believe us," Tom informs her, confidently.

"Why don't we go and sit down in the lounge? I'll make us another drink," Linda offers. "We don't need to stand waiting for her to come round. She's floating off in space somewhere at the moment."

Even from my existential plane of consciousness, I marvel at the audacity of her suggestion. They must all be parched after having been standing idly, watching me be subjected to a forced orgasm. I expect they all worked up a real thirst!

"But what if she wakes up when we're not here?" Wendy frets, sounding frightened to miss something.

I feel Tom pulling at one of the wrist restraints. "Then she wakes up when we're not here," he assures her. "She's not going anywhere."

They traipse out of the room, leaving me to bask in the overwhelming afterglow of my humiliation.

It takes me some time to recover. The orgasm was intense. I had feared that it might be.

I hear the occasional sounds of footsteps, but don't feel compelled to open my eyes and announce my readiness for more punishment. I'm absolutely dreading what's coming next, if Linda had meant what she said.

The idea of Wendy selecting one of the toys to use on me is unbearable. The thought of her standing between my open legs, holding whatever she's chosen and trying to navigate it into my pussy, makes me want to take my own life.

When I finally orient myself, I find that Linda is in the dining room with me.

"There you are," she hums. "I think we just made one of your fantasies come true, didn't we Gabrielle?" she provokes me.

"What?" I groggily demand.

"You love the idea of being watched, don't you? You cum within minutes whenever we describe it to you. How did it feel, having it happen for real?" she taunts.

I turn my head away from her, not wanting to engage in whatever power game she's trying to initiate.

"My mum's still talking about it, y'know?" she delights. "She can't get over some of those faces you were pulling. The way your nose screwed up and your mouth opened like..." She does an impression of what she describes.

"Fuck off," I hiss, hatefully.

"Watch your manners, Gabrielle. You're in enough trouble already. I'll be bringing them back in here in a minute. Do you remember what I told you, before your orgasm? About letting my parents choose a toy to use on you? Any guesses which one they'll pick?" she sneers.

I refuse to respond.

"Shall I go and tell them you're ready?" she asks.

I remain staunch.

"Alright then," she utters, taking my silence as an affirmative reply.

She leaves the room again.

A couple of minutes later, she returns with Tom. Wendy and Daz are in tow.

"Linda tells us you're excited for this next part?" Tom calls over, informing me that Linda has already discussed our interaction with him.

He leads Linda's parents over to the sideboard and pulls open a couple of the drawers for them. They hesitate confusedly, waiting for instruction.

"Have a good rummage through there Wend," Tom invites her. "There's all shapes and sizes to choose from, so grab whichever one takes your fancy."

I turn to see Wendy poring over the vast selection in front of her. She pulls a few of the dildoes out, examining them, then dismissing and replacing them. Tom and Linda don't pressure her into making a decision, looking at me instead. Her indecisiveness is tedious. Tom's arm is wrapped around Linda's back. I recognise the expressions they're both wearing.

Wendy eventually chooses a dildo from the offered selection. She nearly hits Daz in the face with it as she pulls it out; he physically jumps back to avoid being hit.

"Is this a good one?" Wendy enquires, holding the dildo up for Tom and Linda to assess.

"A solid choice," Tom confirms. "It's not the longest one we've got in there, but it makes up for that in girth. Any opinions Daz?" he jokes.

Daz looks offended to even be asked. "If that's the one Wend wants," he grumbles.

"Right mum," Linda coaxes. "Let's get you in position to try it out on her."

I shuffle miserably as she leads Wendy to the side of the table and gets her ready to use the dildo on me.

"Grab the balls, mum," she advises, and Wendy adjusts her hold.

"All that hair is like a throwback to the seventies, isn't it?" Wendy giggles, referring to my mound, like I'm a circus freak; a source of amusement.

"We don't let her near razors Wend. For obvious reasons," Tom smirks over at her scorn.

Wendy tries to push the dildo into me, but completely misses my pussy hole. The rubber shaft of it bends awkwardly. She looks stupefied.

"Here," Linda tells her calmly, moving round to the other side of the table. I feel her part my lips, spreading them wide to reveal my hole. "Can you see there? Right at the bottom of her slit? That's where you need to be pushing." she advises.

Wendy leans in closer between my legs to see, before clumsily moving the head of the dildo further down, aligning it to Linda's specification.

"Perfect," Linda praises. "You're in exactly the right place. Now give it a good, firm push..." she guides, and Wendy follows her instructions to the letter.

I grunt as I feel the bulbous, cockhead replica beginning to push into me. I'm thankful that Wendy's lack of experience makes her advance the dildo slowly, though it means I feel every inch of it stretching my pussy walls as it goes deeper. I'm still sodden from the orgasm I'd been made to have, and lubrication doesn't provide any problem.

I hear a squelching noise at one point and Daz's sudden looking over confirms that everyone else has heard it too.

"Just keep going mum," Linda rallies her. "Just ignore the noises. She's not got the tightest of holes."

I'm busy concentrating on the continued pushing. Wendy keeps going until the full shaft of the dildo is engulfed by my pussy and I'm crudely impaled on the thing.

She looks back at Daz, smiling widely.

"Right," Linda interrupts her stalling. "You've got it all the way in now mum. Now gradually pull it out, just leaving the tip inside her, and then push back in. Maybe a bit faster this time?"

Wendy heeds her daughter's advice, and withdraws the shaft most of the way out, before pushing it back inside me, slightly rougher than she'd done previously.

She repeats the steps, and a small part of me starts to relax. The situation is awful, of course. I hate the fact that Wendy, this vile aberration of a woman, with no redeeming qualities, is forcibly inserting a lifelike dildo into me.

I am, however, smug in knowing that she lacks the skill or ability to inflict any pleasure with it. Her strokes are erratic and lack the required rhythm.

"Keep going Wend," Tom coaches her. "You're doing great. Think of the disrespect she's shown you while you've been here, and really go to town with that rubber cock. Show her who's boss."

Wendy laughs at his words and begins chastising me, as she unskilfully slides the dildo in and out, with no conviction.

"I'm the boss Gabrielle," she tries to taunt me. "You deserve this. You know you do! You were never good enough for Tom. Not like my daughter is. I hope they never let you go!"

Tom claps at her ridiculing. "That's fantastic Wend! Give it your all! Really make her suffer."

He looks to Daz. "Are you going to have a go, mate?"

Daz shakes his head and forces a smile.

"Are you sure?" Tom grills him. "It'd be sort of karmic, don't you think? Gabby tried to fuck you over earlier by involving you in her little plot. Don't you want to fuck her back for it?"

Daz declines again.

Without intending it, Tom's impatience becomes clear about Wendy's subpar attempts. He knows full well that she lacks the stamina to inflict any kind of real humiliation on me. As if what she's doing isn't humiliating enough.

He exchanges glances with Linda, and then steps toward Wendy.

"Do you want me to take over from you Wend?" he asks, seeming to be doing her some sort of favour.

"Will you darling? Here. I'm getting tired," she acquiesces cheerfully, and steps away, leaving the dildo half inside me. She returns to Daz proudly, feeling she's done well somehow.

Tom puts himself into position, grips the base of the dildo and looks at me, before withdrawing it slowly, making sure I feel it.