Trappers Bend Ch. 03

"Alright, this is the last of it. Let's get this inside and sta--"

He stopped and turned around, suddenly very aware it was not his father behind him, and that he had been an instant from saying something incredibly suspicious to a civilian. Standing in front of Dane was a stout, greying man. He was a few inches shorter than Dane and a little pudgy, but with a rugged face, powerful jaw and thick build, despite the softness and age that had started to creep in.

"Hi there," he said. "Beautiful day, huh?"

Dane blinked, his breath catching. It was the man's voice from this morning -- the one who had almost discovered them! It wasn't just the tone, but the volume. The man spoke much too loud, like a king of the castle type who rarely leaves his home.

"Whoa, easy there buddy. I don't bite. Just talking about the weather -- beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah, uh hi," Dane said. "Yeah. A little hazy, but not bad for this time of year. Uhh, sorry, do I know you?"

"Karl," he said, "with a K. Are you renters? You seem familiar, somehow."

"I don't think so," Dane said, a little quickly. "We're Guests, actually. We'll be here for a while."

"Oh? Did that girl Ana move on? Hope she knows she left her car."

"Yeah. No. Not like that," Dane stammered. "She's an old family friend -- told us we could stay with her for a while if we'd bring out some stuff for her and do a little work over the winter."

The man smiled. "Gives you a chance to catch up too, I bet."

Karl's left eye twitched, his grin growing lopsided for a moment, before he plowed on, his expression returning to genial innocence.

"Sounds like a good trade to me!" he leaned closer. "And between you and me, I'm glad she's got some people to look after her. Seen her a couple times, but she seems a little, uhhh, absentminded. Forgetful girl."

"Really?" Dane asked, levelly.

"Oh yeah. I used to take care of the place for her parents. She was always losing stuff here and there. In fact, I'm pretty sure she left something in the woods just the other day."

"Come to think of it," he said, reaching into this pocket, "It might have even been this morning. Days run together this time of year, you know?"

Dane tilted his head and blinked.

"Anyway, here you go," Karl said, sounding pleased as he put a dirty, broken pair of glasses into Dane's hand.

"You can give 'em to her next time you see her, although I don't think they'll do her much good anymore."

"Thanks. She didn't say anything about losing her glasses, but I'll--"

"Oh, they're hers," Karl with a K interrupted, decisively. He paused.

"Anyway, see you around."

He turned.

"Uh, wait just a second."

Karl turned back.

"There's someone else who might like to meet you, since we're neighbors and everything," Dane said, walking towards the house while motioning for the man to stay in place.

"Oh, no need -- Your father, right? We met this morning. Seems like a nice guy -- although I guess your mother must have been quite a beauty back in the day..."

Dane stared, slowly opening and closing his mouth.

"Anyway," Karl said, "gotta be off now."

"Uh, okay, nice to-"

"Tell Ana, 'you're welcome,' by the way, and Karl hopes she's more careful with her things."

"Uhh, yeah. Thanks, Karl. From Ana, I mean."

"Take care of your things, too!" Karl shouted over his shoulder, giving Dane a hearty wave.

"Dad, we've got a problem," Dane said, opening the door to the back porch.

Byron made a shushing gesture, beaconing Dane inside.

"What is it?"

"A guy just came by, I think the guy you ran into this morning."

"Yeah?" Byron asked.

"Apparently there's something we missed," Dane said, handing Byron the glasses. "And your new friend Karl stopped by personally to give it to us."

Byron turned the glasses in his hands, as Dane relayed the conversation. The lenses were thick, and the glasses looked like they must have looked pretty stylish until this morning -- in a retro kind of way.

"What did you tell him?" Byron asked, suddenly very focused.

"We're old family friends, staying the winter in exchange for bringing out her things and doing some maintenance."

Byron nodded, looking thoughtful, and not nearly concerned enough.

"He said she's always losing her things," Dane continued. "But he was being pretty fishy. Said something like 'tell Ana you're welcome and to take better care of her things.' I don't know if I'm reading into it."

"Did he say anything about me?"

"Yeah, he mentioned meeting you this morning, but he was weird about it. He said, uh... if that's your dad, Mom must have been beautiful back in the day," looking away to hide his smirk.

Byron put his mouth against his fist for a long moment, then cleared his throat.

"So. Still your operation. What do you think we should do?"

"We could go," Dane said slowly, "but he knows about Ana and her living situation, I think. Actually, used to be the caretaker for her parents."

"Important information," Byron said nodding. "Maybe information that should have been gathered before we started."

Dane ignored the dig.

"I guess we could take him out, but that's -- I don't know. Seems like it increases the risk and might mean more loose ends. We could try to figure out what he knows, and-"

Byron reached out and ruffled Dane's hair in a way that communicated that his first impulse had been to slap the side of his head.

"Stop. Okay. Let's run through the possibilities. We're worried about what, primarily?"

"That he knows what we did,"

"And what's the main way he might he know?" Byron asked.

"He saw or heard something this morning," Dane said.

"Okay, go with that. So two possibilities. He saw or he didn't see. Right, leader?"

"Hold up," Dane said, "Did he say anything to you this morning?"

"Mostly just, 'hello, nice weather' stuff. Although when we were at the acquisition site, he was saying something to another visitor about wild animals. Might have heard something, but he didn't mention it to me."

Dane nodded, thinking. "Okay, so if he didn't hear or suspect anything, he's just a neighbor doing something neighborly. As long as we don't leave anything else of Ana's in the woods, we should be fine."

"And if he did?" Byron asked.

"Well, if he did, why did he give me back the glasses?" Dane said. "I mean, that's evidence, right?"

"Okay, but what about his tone? Did he suggest anything?"

"Well he was pretty non-confrontational. He let me explain why I was here. He accepted it, didn't make any accusations. But the tone was, I don't know, weird. Like he was insinuating something. And that joke about you was kind of weird too -- for a stranger."

"Insinuating what?" Byron asked.

"That he wasn't giving the glasses back to Ana, really," Dane said slowly. "That he was giving them back to me. That I should be careful."

Byron crossed his arms, waiting while Dane pondered. The young man looked up. The worried little boy look Byron still saw whenever he was stuck on a problem was gone.

"He's on my side. On our side. Or at least not against us at the moment."

"So then, what does-"

"I got this," Dane said. "If he's on our side, he must be connected to the business somehow. So he wants something from us. He used to be the family caretaker, right?"

His ears perked up. Low but distinct, an unmistakable moan drifted in from the deck.

"Well, I know what I'd want," he finished, looking towards the sliding door.

"What should we do, then?" Byron asked.

Dane turned back towards him, "Let's wait and see, I guess. Take some prudent precautions, change the locks. But if he were planning to snatch her, it wouldn't make much sense to tip us off. My guess is he'll be back to let us know what he wants."

Byron smiled and clapped Dane on the shoulder.

"Off with you, then," he said, nodding towards the back door.

Ana let out a low, pleading string of moans. She was swollen to the point where she barely moved on the piston, aroused to to point of agony. They'd captured her for sex, hadn't they? She'd be the young one's voluptuous little doll, the old one's commodity. Anything to be rid of this endless, helpless torment!

She was barely even aware of the sounds she was making, as if it was her cunt that was calling out in distress, like an animal that needed to be rutted. The part that, even drugged and gagged, knew the sounds that could call young men.

The moan becomes a yelp as the water rises, a ripple bouncing her floating body. It's an awesome sensation after ages on the metal prod -- like the presence of a god whose very approach could almost relieve her torment.

She lets out a sob as a fingertip brushed her clit. The sensation is shocking, painful, hopeless. How could she ever come if even a light touch is excruciating? How will she ever leave this place, this machine? She feels a cock, impossibly large against her chest. It bounces against the harness strap between her breasts.

And then the God's mouth is on hers, working her stretched lips between the straps and around the gag, his hands grasping her round ass. His grip only pulls her forward slightly, but it's enough to shift the piston sharply inside her swollen sex, making her squeal.

His right hand releases, comes up, gives her a little slap on the cheek.

"Quiet."

She moans again, afraid to obey or rebel. Afraid he'll leave her forever to her machine.

He repeats the gesture. Same little slap, same firm command delivered like an instruction he expects no resistance to. "Quiet."

She struggles to stifle a deeper moan. Yes, she'll try. Quiet for Him.

He kisses her again. Firmer this time. Exploring her lips where they stretch around the gag with little licks and bites. He makes little circles with his hands on her ass, sliding the metal cock around inside her. It's excruciating. She struggles and fails to stifle a moan, which comes out like a whinny through her nose. He likes it. She can tell by how he breathes. She can hear his smile.

And then he slaps her again. Another little slap.

"Quiet."

It's helping. She moans again to let him know, to ask for another. It sounds much too needy, even to her. This time he chuckles, reaching up to tousle her matted hair. She feels his tongue flick her cheek under the blindfold. He's tasting her. Her sweat, her tears.

His hands reach for her breasts and lifts them, and she takes a sharp breath, the movement sliding her up the pole, her swollen tissue taking most of the movement, only overcoming friction for a moment. She feels like she's falling inside herself. Once again, just an object that fills with air and cock. He seems to be pausing, thinking.

"Can you be quiet without your gag?" he asks.

She says nothing, thinks nothing, just makes two eager little grunts through her nose.

He seems to accept the code, and she manages to hold her breath for just a moment as he drops her breasts and reaches behind her for the back of the gag strap. The motion shifts her down, and he pauses to listen. Her cheeks are wetter, and her nostrils whisper with quivering breath, but she stays silent. He loosens the strap over her chin and she feels her mouth pop open, still boneless. He pulls out the foam ball.

She tries to whisper thank you, but the best she can do is a little sound like "chaaa." Her tongue can move now, but only a little, and her mouth is incredibly dry. In the dark behind her blindfold, he pictures it cracking in the heat as she struggles to push it forward, to beg for water. She makes a quiet little cough, hoping he'll understand.

"Ehhh! Ehhh!"

She hears a quiet pop, feels him move in the water. Then he puts his mouth against her, his lips pressed tightly together, and dribbles a tiny stream of water. Only the tip of her tongue tastes it, before it dribbles uselessly over her lower lip and down her chest. He slowly dribbles the rest of the water into her mouth, lifting her chin to stop it from dribbling down her chest. The gesture doesn't feel contemptuous like it should. It's careful, an animal nourishing its charge. She knows now for sure what she'd suspected: it's the son. It seems strange that she's never tasted the inside of his mouth before -- stranger than not knowing his name.

She expects him to make her beg, then remembers, she already has been. Her pleading whimpers had stopped at his command, but only for a moment. She feels his leg slide past hers as he lowers himself, and a moment later, the steel cylinder twists, slips a few centimeters, then slips again. She's so grateful, she barely cries out -- knowing he'll finally deliver her from the machine. Then, with the bulbous head just parting her opening, it stops and locks. Moments later, the float is removed, and her knees slide against the tiles, the metal cock pressing in again.

He stands up, looping a finger under her chest harness. She's sore under the straps, bruised from her rough capture, and she whimpers as he pushes his cock up against her cheek, and feels his toes lightly caress her thigh.

"You've done very well so far. Would you like me to reward you?"

She's grateful that she can't speak, can't move. That for the moment, a moan is enough for him. That there's nothing for her but to acknowledge and be taken.

"Very well. You may swallow my cum. Impress me, and I'll let you come as well."

He takes her shoulders and presses forward, while plunging her down the metal cock. Fresh from the water, his cock feels almost burning against her lower lip and tongue. He seems to be testing her, using just her tongue to stimulate himself. She finds she can move it, but only just. She wiggles the blade back and forth against him as much as she can, feeling drool drip down her chin and his shaft. He presses forward, sliding against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She has a moment of anxiety as the head presses the back of her throat, but she doesn't gag. Her knees scrape the tiling and her swollen sex is dragged along the metal cylinder, as he pushes her down and up, rocking his hips in time.

The cock opens and closes her throat to breath, and she lets out a long moan just to hear it, to feel it more clearly. She feels hollow but balanced, senses blurring from each end. The aching in her cunt is a bodily need to satisfy the cock in her throat, which clenches both holes with each thrust down her throat. She must be getting some movement back, because she can feel her tongue lashing against him as she swallows and swallows around it, literally breathing in cock like in her dream.

And then he's filling her, pulsing as he withdraws -- down her her throat, across her tongue, onto the roof of her mouth. It's glorious. She'd sigh in relief and thanksgiving, but she'd choke. With the second pulse, he thrusts all the way in, burying himself in her throat, and she simply waits, breathless, almost complete.

"Come for me," he says, pressing the top of his foot against her sex.

She gags, her whole body pulsing as if under the command of the cock in her throat. Her body seems to expand out into everything, to disperse and melt in the hot water. She gasps in a breath as he pulls back, then presses forward, gagging herself on the still erect cock of her captor, working the underside with desperate little licks. His foot keeps rubbing against her as he pulls her head against him, feeling her throat convulse with the need for air. And then, his softening shaft slips from her throat, resting on her tongue, tickled by her gasping breaths.

"You'll do," he says, his grasp loosening in her hair.