Mother's Helping Hand Ch. 23

The usual disclaimers apply, the story contains incest, some violence, non consensual sexual behaviour and sexual scenes so if you are likely to be offended by this please don't read any further.

The characters are over 18, the persons and events described are entirely fictional. The author reserves all rights to the story and its reproduction with the exception of Literotica.

All feedback is appreciated and if you like the story, please rate it in the comments section.

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PART 1

Alison spent the night pacing and worrying. What on earth was going to happen? What should she do? Was she going to be kidnapped? Murdered? Raped? Who could she turn to? She wished Bobby was still here, so at least she could talk to him, have someone to support her and help her. Several times, she picked up her cell phone and started to dial his number. Even just to hear his voice would feel good. But then she stopped herself. What would she tell him? The voice on the phone had been clear: "Tell no one." She wondered if her house was bugged, or her phone tapped. Besides, the reason she'd gotten into this mess in the first place, was because she'd used Bobby to try to solve her own problems. She had to protect him from this. Whatever happened to her now, his future was all that mattered.

Eventually, near dawn, she managed an hour or two of fitful sleep. Awakening thinking she had just had a terrible dream, she then saw the envelope, remembered its contents, and the whole nightmare came flooding back to her. She made her way to work and attempted to focus on her job, anything to distract her from whatever awaited her later that night. But she couldn't concentrate; and eventually at lunchtime, she told her secretary she wasn't feeling well and left. She stopped off at a bar and had a double-vodka, the alcohol taking the edge of her panic, but leaving her no closer to any idea what she should...could, do.

She considered calling the police; but what would she tell them? She was being blackmailed about fucking her son? She considered leaving town and going away; but what about Bobby? If she didn't keep her appointment tonight, what would the blackmailer do to him? Every angle she came at it from, the answer was the same. She had to face this tonight, and face it alone. She drove home and found everything as she'd left it. Somehow, she was afraid of another package, or an intruder, though how anything could be worse than last night's bombshell she didn't know.

The time was just 3pm. She poured herself a glass of wine, anticipating 3 more hours of agonizing suspense. She finished the glass and resisted the urge to pour another. Whatever was to come, she needed to face it with a clear head. She headed upstairs and laid out the dress on the bed. A couple of months ago, she would never have dreamed of wearing something so slutty. She remembered how excited Bobby was when she tried it on, and wished he was here now to protect her.

She undressed and showered. Feeling the hot water running over her body soothed her; and she found herself finally sobbing, the shock of last night wearing off, and being replaced with fear and desperation. She crumpled into a ball on the floor of the shower, hugging herself as she wept, not knowing how long had passed, by the time she collected herself and turned the water off.

She walked into the bedroom and regarded herself in the mirror. Clearly, whoever was doing this expected her to look her best. She dropped her towel and looked at her body. Her breasts were big and heavy, looking huge on her slim torso. Her belly was flat and her legs shapely. She walked closer and looked at her face. Her mascara had run; and her eyes were red and puffy from the lack of sleep and crying. She set about repairing her make-up and arranging her hair, and eventually was satisfied she looked good enough. She wasn't vain; but she knew her face was pretty, even if most men never seemed to get that...high.

She checked the time: 5pm. Her heart jumped. Only an hour! She put on the dress, being shocked again at how much it displayed. She had no idea what to expect tonight, but decided to use the tape, to keep herself from displaying any more than she already was, sticking it to her nipples and the dress. She put on a pair of black high heels. She debated wearing something more sensible, in case she needed to run, but then figured what was the point? She couldn't escape a blackmailer.

She regarded herself in the mirror and scarcely recognized herself. Gone was the professional hospital manager, and, in her place, someone who looked like a high-class call-girl. She put on a long coat over the dress. The night air was cold; and it would afford her some modesty. She paced about the house, anxiously waiting, until at precisely 6pm the doorbell rang. She jumped and covered her mouth. Oh God! This is it! What should she do? She remained frozen to the spot for what seemed like an eternity, before forcing herself to walk to the door. She opened it and saw a man in uniform waiting. At first she thought he was a policeman, but then realised it was a chauffeur's uniform.

"Ms. Stevens?"

"Yes," she managed to croak.

"Follow me, please."

He turned and walked towards a black limousine, holding the door open for her. She closed her front door and walked slowly towards the black vehicle.

"Where are we going?"

"Please get in Ms. Stevens," the man replied.

She slid into the back of the limo and the door closed softly behind her. The chauffeur got in and they pulled away. The privacy screen was up, precluding any further questions, not that it seemed he would answer any. The windows were tinted. As they drove through the suburbs, it was obvious they were heading out of town. As the roads became darker, she found it harder to see where they were, and lost track of their location, not that it made much difference. Who was she going to tell?

She checked her cell phone and found they'd been driving for nearly 30 minutes. She noticed with a sense of panic that she had no signal, although who she would call at this point, she didn't know. Eventually, the car slowed and made a turn, passing some gates. She could hear a different sound from under the tires, and guessed they were driving over gravel. Eventually the car stopped in front of a huge mansion. She heard the driver get out and walk 'round to open her door. The cold of the night air startled her as she stepped out. The chauffeur held his hand out helping her from the car before gesturing that she should head up the steps to the main entrance. She did so, and was met by a man in a dark suit and tie. She didn't recognise him, and was about to ask who he was when he spoke.

"This way Ms. Stevens."

He headed off through a huge entrance hall and she followed, struggling to keep up as he strode down a corridor, eventually opening a large wooden door for her, and standing to one side.

"I'll take your coat Ms. Stevens."

She hesitated. The house was warm; but she was reluctant to remove it, knowing how much her dress exposed. Eventually she slipped it over her shoulders, blushing at her near nakedness, and feeling even more vulnerable in her revealing black dress. The man simply took her coat and folded it over his arm, showing no reaction to her exposed body. She walked into the room. It was softly lit, with a fireplace and a large bookcase. She thought she was alone until a voice startled her.

"Ms. Stevens, thank you for joining me."

She turned and saw a figure sitting in a leather armchair. Even before she'd turned 'round, she recognized the voice. William J Petty's beady little eyes twinkled, as they roamed over her body.

"I must say, you look quite exquisite."

She swallowed, trying to stay calm.

"Mr. Petty, what is it you want?"

"Ms. Stevens, it is not what I want. Rather, it is what you want, that we are here to discuss."

She looked confused.

"What I want... but the pictures..."

"Ah yes, quite a comprehensive dossier. I actually sent you a relatively small sample of what I have accumulated."

She waited for him to continue; but he simply continued to run his eyes over her body, and in particular her breasts, making no attempt to disguise his interest. She struggled to make sense of this. What did he want?

"But why did you...have us... me...followed?"

"I told you Ms. Stevens. I always take a close interest in my assets, and like to inspect them fully." He continued to gaze at her breasts as he said this.

"But what do you, what are you going to do...?"

"What would you like me to do Ms. Stevens?"

"I don't understand."

"It's a simple enough question Ms. Stevens. There are a range of options open to me. I could forward copies of the files to the trustees of the clinic, the board of governors of the University, or post them on the internet, all anonymously of course."

"No, please!"

"Ah, you see? We have already narrowed down your choices. So again, what would you like me to do?"

"Couldn't you just... erase them?"

"Mmmm, yes, I could... But why would I do that, having taken so much trouble to gather the information?"

"Please... just tell me what you want."

"Ms. Stevens, I keep telling you. This is about what you want. I am not going to ask you for anything tonight. It is for you to ask."

"I don't understand."

"You wish me to keep the pictures of yourself and Bobby from becoming public. What else?"

"Please, just leave Bobby out of this. Do what you want with me."

"Ah yes, your son!"

"Bobby... is he alright? Have you...?"

"Yes, he is quite alright. You can see for yourself."

He pushed a button on a remote; and a TV screen came on, showing a bedroom with a young man lying on it. She looked at it in bemusement for a few moments, before realizing it was Bobby in his room."

"Bobby? What have you done to him!?"

"Calm yourself Ms. Stevens. Nothing. He is quite well, as you can see. I must say, he seemed rather happier last night when you were saying good bye to him," he chuckled.

"You bastard!"

"Now Ms. Stevens," the humour left his voice. "That's hardly the way to speak to someone who holds your future in his hands."

"I'm sorry...I didn't...just please don't hurt my son."

"Very well then. So we have established you want two things: the well-being of your son, and the details of your interludes to remain private. I'm a businessman Ms. Stevens, and the essence of any good business deal is one where both parties are satisfied."

"What is it you want?"

"Ms. Stevens, it is about what you want. I have told you, I will ask for nothing. It is for you to ask."

God, this was driving her crazy! What did he want from her? To have sex with her? Right now he seemed to be enjoying just toying with her.

"What assets do you think you have that might interest me?"

He stared at her breasts as he asked the question. As if she could forget the night he groped her, his ogling left her in no doubt.

"Do you want to... do you want me to...?"

"What is it you have that might interest me?"

He was making her say it?

"My... my...body?"

"An offer should always be specific. What part of your body?" his eyes roamed over her breasts.

The bastard was going to make her say it.

"My b,b...breasts?"

"If you are making an offer you should say so. Remember, it is for you to do the asking. What about them?"

"Do you want to..." she swallowed, trying not to cry, her voice shaking. "Do you want to see my breasts?"

"I have already seen them several times in your dossier."

"Then what else do you...?"

"It is for you to offer."

"Do you want to...touch them?"

"I have already had that pleasure."

"Then what do you want?!?!" She shouted. "Just tell me you bastard, and get this over with!!"

"Ms. Stevens, this is hardly the type of behaviour conducive to a good business deal, one that will be to your advantage."

Petty's voice was quiet, but laced with menace.

"Please just tell me what you want."

"I think your behaviour deserves to be punished Ms. Stevens. It seems you rather enjoy having your breasts beaten; so I think that would be an appropriate form of punishment. What do you think?"

"You want to... beat...my breasts?"

"Ms. Stevens, it is about what you want. You must make me an offer, a very clear offer; and ask me what you wish me to do."

"Oh God... pppplease..." Alison was struggling not to cry.

"Please what, Ms. Stevens? Speak up now."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to make me a clear offer Ms. Stevens. In exchange for my continued discretion, are you offering me your breasts, and asking me to punish them?"

"Yes..." she sobbed.

"Then you must say so."

"Please take by breasts and... punish them."

"It is customary when offering goods, to display them to the prospective buyer Ms. Stevens."

"What?"

He said nothing but continued to stare at her breasts, it was clear what he wanted so she wiped away her tears and tried to control herself. She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders, having to peel the tape from her nipples in the process. The act had the unwanted consequence of causing her nipples to stiffen, adding to her humiliation. She slowly lowered the dress, resisting the urge to cover herself, and let it fall to the ground. She stood in only her panties and high heels, her hands by her sides. She looked straight ahead, as she felt Petty's eyes wandering over her heavy pear-shaped breasts and erect nipples.

"Very nice, Ms. Stevens. Quite magnificent in fact." He was being quite sincere in his praise, as he admired the full rounded globes. He had seen them several times in the photographs and videos; but they were even bigger and more beautiful in real life than he had expected. He allowed himself several moments to admire them fully, like inhaling the bouquet of a fine wine before tasting it.

She remained silent, the only noise in the room the crackling of the fireplace.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Your offer?"

The bastard was getting his rocks off on humiliating her and making her repeat herself. She clenched her fists by her side and replied in a level tone.

"Please, take my breasts and punish them."

"If you are offering them to me. I think you should give them to me, don't you think?"

She walked towards him until she stood in front of him, her breasts level with his eyes. He looked even more repulsive than she remembered, his piggy little eyes roaming over her. She waited for him to reach out and touch her; but he simply looked at her expectantly.

"Well, are you going to offer them to me?"

It was not enough that he could touch her. She had to ask him to do it. Offering her body to him like some meal in a restaurant.

"Please... punish..."

"No, offer them to me. Tell me you are offering them if you are, and what you wish me to do with them. Nothing will happen tonight that you don't wish, remember?"

"Please accept my breasts. I am offering them to you so that you can punish them."

"Very well then Ms. Stevens, if you wish."

He reached out and gently cupped her heavy breasts with his clammy hands, weighing them like two precious objects, gently bouncing them and watching them respond.

"How would you like them punished, Ms Stevens?"

"Please...hit them."

"Hit what Ms Stevens, you must be clear. Remember, nothing happens unless you wish it."

"Please, Mr. Petty, hit my breasts."

She swallowed, choking back tears of anger and humiliation.

"Very well, if you wish."

With unexpected speed, Petty drew back his hand and gave her left breast a viscous slap that sent it flying with the force of the impact. The sudden shock of the blow caused her to gasp.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"I think it is only common courtesy to thank someone when they have carried out your wishes. Don't you?"

"Thank you," She managed, clenching her jaw and staring straight ahead, trying to distance herself from the room and the humiliation.

"You are welcome. Now what would you like me to do?"

"What?"

"If you wish me to continue punishing your breasts you must ask. These are the terms we are conducting business within."

Business? This sick fuck actually considers this some sort of business deal, humiliating and abusing me?

"Please hit my breasts again," she responded, her voice terse.

This time it was a back hander that sent her right breast flying.

He waited expectantly for her.

"Thank you... Please... hit my breasts again."

SMACK! The noise seemed deafening in the quietness of the study, as her left breast felt the full force of Petty's blow.

"Thank you...please... please... hit my breasts again.

The next blow was so hard she could almost see stars. On and on it went, each blow being followed by her thanking him and asking for another. Her breasts ached and burned from the impacts; and she wondered how much longer he would continue, how much longer she could take it?

"Please... hit my breasts..." She managed.

"Very well Ms. Steven's, I will hit them once more. But I wonder if you can think of another form of punishment they deserve? Perhaps you wish to have them squeezed?"

He slapped her bruised breast with a vicious undercut that caused it to fly upwards before rebounding.

By now Alison was quietly sobbing. She let out a whimper before answering.

"Th...thank you. P..P..Please squeeze my breasts."

"You must be clear. How hard do you wish them squeezed?"

"Please ... Please...squeeze them hard."

"Very well."

Her breasts were already bruised and aching as Petty sunk his fingers into them, and began viciously squeezing and twisting them.

She whimpered and clenched her fists so hard, her nails dug into her palms.

"Is that hard enough for you?"

"Th..Th...Thank you."

"Ms. Steven's, I asked if that is hard enough for you. Speak up now."

His meaning was clear enough.

"Please squeeze them harder."

"Squeeze what?"

"Please squeeze my breasts harder," she sobbed.

"There, that wasn't so difficult was it?"

He dug his fingers into her aching boobs and twisted them like dough, cruelly mauling her breasts. Just when she thought she could bear no more, he finally released her breasts and looked up at her. She remembered the sick ritual and forced a "Thank you."

"You are welcome Ms. Stevens. Your offer has been accepted. You can rest assured that your secret will remain safe. Actually, I will sweeten the deal for you. You see, as a benefactor of your son's university, I have considerable influence. I think it's fair to say he will do very well in his studies. I have also arranged for a car to be delivered to him at the college. Bobby will think it is a present from you. So you see, a good business deal has advantages for everyone."

She struggled to take in his words through the aching pain in her breasts, but simply repeated "Thank you."

"You are welcome. You may get dressed. My driver will see you home. I shall require your attendance again in one week. That should allow sufficient time for the bruises to heal."

Again?! What would he want from her this time? She didn't allow herself to think about that. She put the dress back on tenderly and left the study. In the brighter light of the hallway, she could see the mottled red splotches covering her breasts. She simply ran back to the main hall, clutching her aching breasts, where the man in the black suit helped her into her coat and opened the door for her.

The driver was already holding the limo door open for her; and she climbed in finding an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it.

"Mr. Petty instructed me to provide it. He said the ice would help reduce the discomfort."

She poured herself a glass of the champagne, pausing briefly to wonder if it had been drugged, but then dismissing the idea. What would be the point? Petty could do whatever he wanted to her without drugging her; and he clearly enjoyed her having to participate in her own humiliation. She drained the glass and poured another, feeling the effects begin to wash over her. She regarded the ice and remembered the chauffeur's comments. Petty had said it would reduce the discomfort. In some sick way he no doubt considered it a chivalrous gesture. She grabbed a handful of ice and opened her coat, not caring if the driver could see. She rubbed the ice over her breasts, feeling the cold numbing the skin, and taking the edge of the pain. The journey home passed in a haze. She finished the rest of the champagne, and found herself growing drowsy as the car came to a halt and the driver walked 'round to open the door. She walked unsteadily up the drive and let herself in, before walking up the stairs to the bedroom. She undressed and stood in front of the mirror she had regarded herself in earlier. Her breasts were mottled with yellow and purple bruises from the abuse they had received; and her eyes looked weary and blank. She collapsed on the bed. Finally the exhaustion and alcohol overcame her, and she fell into a deep sleep.