Mr. Jackson claims Marie

Author's note: this story is a sequel to "Mr. Jackson Marks Marie," but may be read independently.

Over the next few days, Marie couldn't get her encounter with Mr. Jackson out of her head. Every night she replayed the way he'd battered her petite pussy with his gigantic cock while holding her hair and growling filthy things in her ear. She longed to feel the slap of his hand across her ass again. She needed to be manhandled. Taken.

Her boyfriend Shawn was of no use in that regard, and besides, Mr. Jackson had made her promise not to fuck Shawn again without his explicit permission. So far, she had kept her promise. At first it wasn't very hard. Shawn had never really satisfied her, even though she found him physically attractive. He was just a little too passive for her liking.

After more than a week without hearing from the Jackson family, Marie was beginning to get desperate. Sure, she could make herself cum, but it wasn't enough. She was worried. What if Mr. Jackson had come clean and told his wife everything? What if they'd found another babysitter and she'd never see him again?

Friday afternoon came and went without the Jacksons calling her to babysit. She was beginning to get depressed, and horny beyond belief. When Shawn called and asked her if she wanted to go out that night, she eagerly agreed. What was the use in resisting any further? She needed to be fucked, even if she knew it wouldn't satisfy her. Anything was better than nothing.

Shawn picked her up and they went to his house. His parents were out for the night, so they were all alone. They watched a movie together and cuddled on the couch. It was clear what Shawn wanted, and Marie was finally ready to give it to him. But she had to try and see if she couldn't get him to be a tad dirtier.

"Look at that girl," she said, indicating the female protagonist in the movie, "she's dressed like a total slut. Someone needs to teach her a lesson."

Shawn chuckled.

"What kind of lesson?"

"I dunno," said Marie, cuddling in closer to him, "I think a good spanking for starters."

She took his hand and moved it to her ass as she cuddled him. He just held it there, cupping her ass cheek, saying nothing. Totally clueless.

She kissed him and rubbed her tits against his chest.

"You feeling horny baby?" she whispered.

"Oh yes," he said, guiding her hands to his package.

"I'm going to be a bad girl for you tonight, Shawn," she whispered.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

"Whatever you want me to do," she said.

"Um, give me a blowjob?"

"Why don't you make me do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Take control. Make me give you what you want."

"But I can't do that!" he protested, "I love you."

"I want you to," she pleaded, "I need it."

"I'd like a blowjob please," he said, trying to sound authoritative.

His voiced seemed passionless, almost frightened. Oh how she longed for Mr. Jackson!

"Oh yeah?" said Marie, "what if I don't want to give you one?"

"I guess," he hesitated, "I guess you don't have to then."

She sighed.

"No, don't worry, I'll give you one," she said, kissing him sweetly.

They made out for a few minutes, then he fingered her until she faked an orgasm.

She sank her head into his lap and did her duty. After swallowing his cum, she went to the bathroom where she bent over the sink, rubbing her clit until she reached orgasm.

"Fuck me Mr. Jackson," she whispered, "take my little pussy, it's yours!"

When she emerged from the bathroom, she had a smile on her face.

"You can take me home now Shawn," she said.

When they pulled up in her parents' driveway, Marie's heart skipped a beat. Mr. Jackson's car was parked where her mother's car usually went.

"Looks like your parents have company," said Shawn, kissing her goodnight.

"Um, yeah," said Marie, faking nonchalance.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," she said, slamming the car door behind her, her heart racing as she walked up the steps and turned her key in the lock.

There was light, laughter and the sound of the television set coming from the downstairs den.

"Marie?" called her father, when he heard the door, "is that you?"

She didn't respond. Her heart was pounding too hard at the prospect that Mr. Jackson might be in her house, watching TV with her father. What would she say to him?

"Marie," called her dad, "come downstairs and say hi!"

She walked to the edge of the stairs, then took them one at a time, feeling the moistness between her legs spread. Oh god, she thought, he's down there, isn't he?

When she turned the corner and entered the basement den, her father and Mr. Jackson looked up at her from the couch in front of the TV set. They were watching a basketball game together.

"Hey honey," said her dad, "I thought you'd like to say hi to Mr. Jackson. He came over to watch the game."

"Hi Mr. Jackson," she mumbled, barely able to meet his gaze.

"Hi Marie," he said, "I haven't seen you since the barbeque! How've you been?"

"Fine."

"How's that boyfriend of yours? Shane? No – Shawn?"

"Shawn," she said, "he's fine."

"What did you two do tonight?" asked her dad.

"Just watched TV at his place."

"Ha ha," laughed Mr. Jackson, "I know what that means at your age."

"That's all we did, honest," mumbled Marie, blushing and looking at the floor, "it was nice to see you."

She turned and left the room, heading up to her bedroom. She closed the door and lay back on her bed. The mere sight of the handsome older man had gotten her wet again, and the sound of his voice had made her almost lose control entirely.

She kicked off her shoes and pulled her panties down her legs partway so her clit and pussy were accessible. With one hand she reached under her sundress and played with her nipples while the other hand raced across her clit.

She was on the verge of coming, imagining herself under Mr. Jackson, when she heard the sound of a car in the driveway.

He's gone, she thought to herself. On the one hand, she was relieved. Having Mr. Jackson in her house made the sexual tension almost impossible to take.

On the other hand she was disappointed. Shouldn't he have at least tried to see her? Had she done something wrong? Was she just a one-time fling for him and nothing more?

Just then, the hinges of her bedroom door creaked. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her body.

"Hey!" she yelled, thinking that for some unfathomable reason her father had opened her door without knocking.

But even through her haze of arousal and surprise, she discerned that the intruder was not in fact her father, but rather Mr. Jackson.

"But –, you –," she was stammering uncontrollably. "just left," she said, frantically trying to pull her panties up and cover herself.

"That was your Dad's car," he said, matter-of-factly, as he stepped all the way inside the room and shut the door behind him.

"He should be gone for a while. He's picking up some beers for us at the grocery store. By the way," – he unbuckled his belt – "does he know what a slut he raised?"

He stepped forward towards the bed and put his huge hand on hers, preventing her from pulling her panties back up. Instead, he yanked them down her legs roughly, pulling them over her thighs and off her ankles. He bunched them in his hands and brought them to his nose, taking a long sniff.

"My, my, Marie! It smells like you're quite aroused. You didn't fuck that wimp of a boyfriend, did you, you little whore?"

"No, sir," she stammered. Her pussy was positively on fire, but it was as if she was paralyzed.

"Don't lie to me, slut. I know what a little whore you are, remember?"

Before she could tell what was happening to her, she found herself facedown and ass-up on her bed, her torso supported by two pillows. Mr. Jackson held both of her hands behind her back with just one of his own.

"What are you doing?" she moaned.

She heard the tearing of fabric from somewhere behind her, then felt Mr. Jackson loop something around her wrists. In the blink of an eye, she had both hands tied securely behind her back.

She wriggled in vain, attempting to escape.

SMACK!

His powerful hand came down across her ass. It was what she had been craving for days, but it still stung like hell.

"Ouch!"

"Tell me the truth, slut! Did you fuck him? Did you let that wimpy fucking boyfriend touch your pussy?"

"Na na no –," she moaned, still wriggling against her bonds.

"I'm not sure I believe you, slut."

She heard a whipping sound as he pulled off his belt.

"Please no, Mr. Jackson," she moaned, guessing what was going to come next, "it'll hurt too much!"

He rubbed the smooth leather of his belt sensually across her ass.

"Just tell me the truth, Marie," he growled, "did you suck his puny little cock?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"That's a good girl, Marie. You should always be honest with me."

He massaged her ass with one hand, while rubbing the leather belt across her pussy.

"Such a cute little ass," he said, running his hand along it, "such a shame I'm going to have to redden it with this belt."

"Mr. Jackson, no!" she cried, "I told you the truth!"

"Yes," said Mr. Jackson, "but that doesn't change the fact that you sucked your boyfriend's cock without my permission."

"But you only said," she stammered, "that I couldn't let him fuck me."

"Close enough," said Mr. Jackson.

Marie felt a slight gust of air as he raised the belt.

SMACK!

"OWW!" yelled Marie, "that fucking hurt!"

"It was supposed to, you little whore," Mr. Jackson growled.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

He delivered three more blows, drawing out each pause between them, savoring the silence and the tension that ensued from Marie's uncertainty about when and where he would strike next.

She was whimpering now, in pleasure and pain, tears in her eyes, and so close to coming she wanted to beg him for release.

He had mercy on her for the moment and ran his hands over her reddened ass, massaging away the sting that the belt had left. But her relief lasted only a moment.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

He teased her between strokes, running the belt along her pussy slit, tapping her clit with it while he put one finger in her pussy.

"Please," she whimpered, tears streaking her cheeks, "please let me come."

"Hmm," said Mr. Jackson, "that's certainly a thought. But what are you going to do for me in return?"

"I'll, I'll, let you fuck me," she gasped.

Mr. Jackson laughed.

"You'll let me fuck you? I think you've forgotten who's in charge here, Marie. I own this pussy," he drew back the belt, "remember?"

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

This time, the blows came in sharp succession, and there was no time for her to catch her breath between them. She sobbed as she registered the shock of the sting.

"Please, please," she cried, "let me come."

"You really do want to come, don't you slut?"

"Yes sir," she moaned.

"Let's see how bad you really want it."

"I'll do anything. Please let me come sir."

"Anything?"

"Anything!"

Marie was desperate now, longing to be filled with his big hard cock.

"Admit that your boyfriend will never satisfy you like I will. Admit that you're really in love with my cock," said Mr. Jackson.

"What? But I love him!"

"Sure you do. But part of you wants to show him how you really need to be fucked."

"What? No!"

She couldn't believe the filthy implication behind Mr. Jackson's words. Did he have no limits? No sense of decency? But when she flashed back in her mind to being taken in the bathroom while his wife and her boyfriend were outside, she realized that she was not entirely blameless herself.

God, she thought, I really am a filthy whore! The thought of showing Shawn how a real man takes a woman ignited a raw, carnal fire within her.

"I admit it," she whispered, "I want to show him."

"Well then, I guess you're going to have to babysit tomorrow night."

"Ok," she whispered.

The gravity of the situation began to sink in. Had she really agreed to fuck Mr. Jackson in front of her boyfriend? The thought seemed insane! But she was so aroused now that she wasn't sure if she cared! She wondered what Mr. Jackson had planned for her tomorrow night.

"But I'm forgetting something, aren't I?" said Mr. Jackson, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself behind Marie, rubbing his cock along her engorged slit, "you wanted to be fucked, didn't you?"

SMACK!

His hand cracked down across her ass, and he grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Didn't you, slut?"

"Yes", Mr. Jackson," she moaned, part of her still in denial that she was about to be taken roughly by a handsome older man, in her own bed, in her parents' home. How had the situation gotten this out of control?

Mr. Jackson slowly pushed his member into her, one millimeter at a time. Each tiny movement seemed like it would split her in two. His cock was truly enormous.

"Tell me, Marie, do you like this?"

"Yes. it's. so. fucking. big," she panted as he pushed inside her, "I need it so fucking bad."

"That's right you do, slut."

He was inside her now, and began to work his magic once again, just as he'd done in the bathroom. Fully in control of the situation, he kept her guessing at the timing and strength of each thrust. All the while he had a tight grip on her hair, massaging and slapping her ass-cheeks with his other hand.

"You fucking love it don't you slut? Tomorrow we're going to show your fucking boyfriend how much you love this big dick."

"Yes," she moaned, "I need it so bad. I want to show him!"

Marie couldn't believe she had just said something like that! But then again, Mr. Jackson had made her dirtier than she'd ever thought possible.

"God," she moaned, as Mr. Jackson increased the intensity of his fucking, "you're going to make me come. I'm going to come like a little whore all over your big fucking prick!"

"That's right whore," moaned Mr. Jackson, savoring the grip of her nineteen-year-old pussy, "come all over this fucking dick."

"OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD I'M COMING!" she moaned, fully out of control, her pussy spasming along the length of Mr. Jackson's stiff rod.

"That's right you fucking slut," said Mr. Jackson, giving her ass a sharp slap, "I knew you needed this cock."

"UGGH!"

Marie's orgasm felt like it would never end! How could she go back to Shawn after this?

Just then, there was a sound in the driveway. Her father was back.

"Looks like you got off just in time," Mr. Jackson laughed, pulling his still-stiff rod out of her, "but you're not going to sleep tonight until you make me come, slut. I'll be back soon."

"Wait," said Marie, "you can't just leave me like this!"

Still ass-up on the bed, her freshly fucked pussy and belted buttocks were on lewd display.

"What if my mom or dad comes in?" she protested.

Once again she heard the sound of ripping fabric.

She tried to roll over, but Mr. Jackson held her down effortlessly.

"I guess they'll see what a slut they raised," he chuckled, binding both legs firmly to the bedposts so that she was completely helpless.

"You sure do look pretty like that Marie. I wonder what Shawn would think?"

"Stop talking about him!"

"That's not what you said while I was fucking you," he said, wadding her panties in his hand.

"Open up, honey."

Before she knew what had happened, he had stuffed her panties in her mouth.

"That ought to keep you quiet for a while," he said, slapping her on her sore ass.

"MMM!" she protested.

She could have easily spit the panties out, but she was enjoying playing the part of Mr. Jackson's whore a little too much for that, even if the precarious situation she found herself in terrified her. What if her mother wanted to come in to say goodnight?

Mr. Jackson flipped off the switch and left. The room was dark and silent.

Marie lay there on her stomach, reliving the events of the evening, her pussy exposed to the open air.

She felt ashamed at how much the thought of showing Shawn how she needed to be fucked had turned her on. She wasn't a monster, or a sadist, was she?

But there was another, even stronger emotion, one like she had never experienced for another man. It was a pure lust that could never be satiated, and it only knew one name: Mr. Jackson.

The longer she lay on her bed, the more aroused she became. Her erect nipples ached; her clit was hopelessly out of reach.

Every now and then, the sounds of the two men laughing or cheering drifted up to her through the ventilation system. How long did a basketball game last? Marie wasn't sure. However long it was, it was too long. She was getting really wet again now, picturing the way Mr. Jackson had fucked her.

But despite herself, she couldn't help but imagine the two of them on the Jacksons' bed, him bent over her, drilling her while Shawn watched from the darkened hallway, unable to stop the older man who now owned his girlfriend's pussy.

God, why did she think like that? It was so nasty and so wrong!

Just then, she heard another car pull into the driveway. A few minutes later, there were footsteps coming up the stairs. Her heart was beating so hard she could barely hear anything else.

She recognized the footsteps as her Mom, home from working late.

Tears came to Marie's eyes. She sobbed on her panties at the thought of the humiliation that would ensue if her mother came in to find her 19-year-old daughter trussed up like a whore on the bed, her spanked ass in plain sight.

There was a faint knock at the door, followed by the gentle turn of the knob. It was all she could do not to burst out crying.

"Marie?" whispered her mother, "are you awake?"

Marie mustered everything in her power to stay silent.

Her mother stood there in the darkened doorway for a few seconds, then closed the door gently and tiptoed down the hall.

Marie's relief at not being discovered felt almost as good as an orgasm. She exhaled hard, moaning on the gag in relief, tears streaming down her face.

But the relief soon turned to rage. What kind of man would put her in a situation like this? Was this the price she had to pay for raw, unbridled passion?

The longer she lay there, the angrier she became.

She heard Mr. Jackson's car in the driveway.

What the hell! Had he just left her there, tied to the bed? She began to wriggle against her bonds, trying seriously now to escape. She knew it was a matter of time before she'd be able to free herself, but she was still furious at having been left like this.

Suddenly, her door creaked open once again.

"Did you miss me, Marie?" whispered Mr. Jackson.

"You fucking bastard," she spat, "my mom almost found me. I thought you'd left."

"I had to park my car around the block so your dad would think I was gone."

Before she could respond, his hand was over her mouth. His other hand freed her legs. She began to struggle, kicking against him.

"There's no use, slut," he whispered, "I told you I was going to come before I left, and now I'm back to claim what's mine."

He untied her hands as well, then quickly peeled her dress over her head. Before she knew it, she was in his arms, then on her back on the floor, rough carpet against her naked skin.

He pressed himself between her legs, still holding her mouth shut with one hand. His other hand reached up to free her tits from her bra. Once they sprang free, he managed to grab her wrists and hold both of them above her head with a single hand.

"Such incredible tits," he whispered, licking her erect nipples, teasing first one, then the other with his tongue.

The house around them was still. The only sound was Marie's breathing, which seemed to accelerate each time Mr. Jackson kissed her nipples.