A Bad ReactionChapter 2 free porn video

I left the bathroom and tapped lightly on Heather's door. There was no answer but I knew she was awake.

I went in and sat beside her in the dark. I waited for some sign that she was awake and ready to talk.

She didn't speak or move for a long time. But my eyes adjusted to the dark after a few minutes and I could see that her eyes were open. She was watching me, waiting for me to speak.

I realized that I didn't have a clue what to say. I struggled to think what I could possibly say to explain away what just happened, the horrible, violent act she just witnessed.

Before I found the words she quietly said, "He raped you, didn't he?"

I promised myself that I wasn't going to cry when I was with her. But as soon as the words had left her mouth I lost control. I started sobbing, almost hysterical now. She sat up and put her arms around me. We hugged and soon we were both crying. So much for calming my daughter's fears!

It was several minutes before I finally got my emotions under control and I started talking. It was a very long conversation. I told her everything. I even told her, for the first time, how I became pregnant. I made it clear that the circumstances are irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that she is the most important person in my life and I love her with all my heart.

She's a very smart girl. She understood.

I also told her what Mr. Kent said about her and that he ordered me to warn her ... prepare her. I explained why he has so much power. She understood that, too. She's much smarter than I was at her age.

We continued to talk for a long time after that. I learned that she's even more mature than I had at first thought. And I already thought that she was a remarkably mature thirteen year old girl.

I told her that I wanted desperately to protect her from this man and his friends. Unfortunately, I knew that he was right earlier. No one believed a word I said when I went to court. If I complained to someone about Mr. Kent no one would believe me now, either. I'd just piss him off and make things worse for us.

We talked about running away. But we don't have anything and we have nowhere to go. I have no savings. I used what little money I'd been able to put aside for emergencies just to keep us alive and keep a roof over our heads while I was suspended from my job pending my trial. We have no reserves to draw upon.

We've been living from paycheck to paycheck for forever. Now we're even worse off because of the six weeks I was out of work pending my trial. I've lost a lot of money. I counted myself lucky that I was able to keep up with the rent and the utilities.

Heather understood. She understood more than I had any right for her to understand. I finally tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. I quietly left her room and went out and cleaned up the kitchen. By then I had calmed down a little and I finally went to bed.

As hard as I tried, though, I couldn't stop my mind from reliving every horrible thing that was said and done to me tonight. I doubt if I got more than a couple of hours sleep between the time I finally drifted off to a restless sleep full of obscene images and the time my alarm finally went off.

In the morning I made her breakfast. I sat with her and drank coffee while she ate. We didn't talk much. We said it all last night. She finished her breakfast and just before she left for school she came over and hugged me. She tried to sound confident when she said, "Don't worry, mom. We'll figure something out. We just need to hold it together. I promise you, if you don't freak, I won't freak."

I could tell that she was trying to be brave for me and it made me want to cry again. Instead, I smiled and hugged her and told her goodbye.

After she left I took another quick shower in an attempt to wake up. I trimmed my pubic hair until it was reduced to a small patch just over my vagina to satisfy Mr. Kent. Then I dressed and went to work.

Dressing for work is never a problem. It requires no thought. My uniform for work is a white, one-piece nursing uniform. I was more than a little uncomfortable wearing it at first. I thought that it was a bit too see-through. But everyone at the home wears them and eventually I got used to the idea that my underwear showed faintly beneath the thin fabric.

I've always tried to do a good job at work. There may be a lot of things I don't like about my job and it's just a means to an end. But I have my pride ... or at least I did until my disastrous day in court and my subsequent forced submission to Mr. Kent.

But now I really went out of my way to put in every extra effort that I could. I appreciate the fact that my supervisor defended me to her supervisors and let me keep my job. I want to make sure that she never once has reason to doubt that was the right thing to do.

The atmosphere at work is a little uncomfortable now. The people under my care don't seem to know anything about what happened. But the people I work with all do. I explained what happened to the people I consider my friends. They seem to understand and sympathize. But I couldn't go around and explain to everyone. I doubt if it would help anyway. No matter what I say now, a jury of my peers found me guilty of a felony. I've been convicted of assault and battery. I'm officially a felon now.

I suppose all I can do now is continue to prove myself worthy of my supervisor's trust and ignore those of my co-workers who aren't convinced I don't belong in jail.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays a Doctor comes in to the home and sees patients. I assist him fairly often and I've gotten to know him pretty well. He's always been very nice to me. I managed to talk him into squeezing me in on Tuesday when he had some free time. After a brief examination and a few embarrassing questions he wrote me my very first prescription for birth control pills.

I stopped on the way home from work and with the last of my money I bought the pills. I hurried home as soon as I picked up my prescription. Heather gets home an hour before I do and I worry about her when she's alone in that apartment.

Unfortunately I can't afford a sitter. So she has to lock herself inside and do her homework until I get home. She would probably balk at the idea that she isn't old enough to look after herself now anyway.

As soon as I got home I changed out of my uniform and went to the kitchen to start supper.

Heather always helps me cook our evening meal unless she has an inordinate amount of homework. My mother never taught me how to cook and that was a real handicap when I finally struck out on my own. I managed to survive on sandwiches and TV dinners until I learned to cook. But I want Heather to know how to cook and we enjoy making supper together. It gives us an opportunity to talk and tell each other about anything interesting that happened that day.

The conversation this day was bizarre. Heather asked about, and I felt compelled to explain as much as I could about sex; oral sex and vaginal sex. That naturally led to a discussion about men and their sex organs and their orgasms.

It's a very uncomfortable conversation for a mother to have with her thirteen year old daughter. To add to my embarrassment, due to my own limited experience I honestly don't know much more than I learned when Mr. Kent raped me yesterday.

Before he left last night he ordered me to speak with her about what might happen. I hated having to have this conversation, especially at Heather's age. But at least on this one point I agreed with Mr. Kent. It's in my daughter's best interest that I explain as much as I can and prepare her for what I feared was to come.

I'm not that well informed, either. I can only guess at what's to come. I fear, though, that it won't be long before Heather will witness things that no thirteen year old girl should witness. She already has.

She asked more questions about her conception, too. She's a lot more world-wise than I was at her age. She recognized the signs of a girl who's been drugged and raped.

She asked me how being drugged and raped had colored my feelings about her. I was glad for that question. I wanted there to be no misunderstanding about how much I adore her. I've loved her right from the very first minute I learned I was pregnant. I'm not necessarily opposed to abortions. I think it's a personal choice, a medical decision between a woman and her doctor and it's none of the Government's or the church's business.

But I couldn't do it. I'm so glad now. There's no question in my mind that my daughter is the most amazing and loving creature on the face of the earth. She deserves a lot better than the life that I've given her, and the danger that I've put her in. But this is all just a temporary setback. I'll work through this somehow. I'll get my degree and life will be better then. I have to believe that.

I honestly didn't believe that Mr. Kent would return this evening. Not after he was so thoroughly sated last night. It turns out I have a lot to learn about his appetites. And I wasn't going to like any of it.

I heard the door rattle not long after supper and then someone knocked. My heart was in my throat as I went to answer it. I was pretty sure I knew who it was. We don't get company.

I was right. It was Mr. Kent. I unlocked the door and opened it for him. He glared at me and said, "Don't lock your door any more. Not until you give me a key."

Then he pushed his way in and went over to sit on the couch beside my daughter. He started giving her orders too. And he expected to be obeyed.

He handed her a twelve pack of beer and told her to put them in the refrigerator and bring him back one.

I was afraid that he was going to touch her, make her do something with him. He didn't, but it was almost as bad. When she returned he took the beer from her and he ordered her to sit back down on the couch beside. It was starting and I was helpless to put a stop to it.

She obeyed without question. I could see how scared she was. But she didn't say a word to him. She didn't cry. She was careful not to say or do anything that might annoy him and make our situation more difficult.

Once she was seated he ignored her. He had been watching me as he ordered her around. I think that he was waiting for me to say something, to complain, or to plead.

I only wish I'd had the courage.

As soon as Heather sat down he asked, "Did you talk to her? Did you tell her what happened to you last night? Did you tell her about the changes in your life?"

I nodded.

He turned to Heather and asked, "What did your mother tell you?"

Heather gathered her thoughts and then summed up for him the long discussion we had last night.

He asked, "What did you think about the things she told you?"

She responded, "I thought it sucked, and that you aren't a very nice person."

Mr. Kent just laughed. But then he turned to me and said, "Smart kid. Now strip, I'm horny."

I knew the answer before I asked. But I had to ask. "I don't suppose that it would do any good to ask you to let her go to her room?"

He chuckled again and said, "No. I'm not going to fuck with her. But it won't hurt her to learn a little about sex. Like I said last night, some of my friends might enjoy a cute young girl like her."

"Mr. Kent," I pleaded. "I promise I'll do anything you want me to do. But please, she's so young. Please let her go to her room. Please don't let your friends hurt her."

But I already figured out that he'd enjoy tormenting me all the more with my daughter being forced to witness my humiliation. I've no doubt that he planned this from the moment he learned of her existence. And there's no doubt in my mind that he's going to torment her in front of me for that same reason.

He responded noncommittally, "I'll take it under advisement. Now strip, cunt."

The look of pleasure on his face as he tormented me said it all. When the jury pronounced me guilty they sentenced both me and my young daughter to five years of sexual slavery. He has every intention of molesting my little girl, if not actually raping her. And there's no way of knowing what these mysterious friends of his would do to her.

I winced at the use of that awful word. As much as I hate the word cunt, it sounds so much more obscene when he uses it in front of Heather. But I saw no point in mentioning it to him. I'm reasonably certain that he knows how any decent woman feels about that word.

I pulled off my t-shirt and slid my shorts down quickly. I uncovered another plain bra and panty set. It's the only kind I own. He shook his head and said, "I don't want you wearing any of your old underwear anymore. Christ! It's like watching my mother undress. We'll get you something a little more attractive to wear later."

I nodded. There wasn't any point in arguing with him.

He added, "That means when you go to work, too."

I nodded again, thinking of those lightweight, white uniforms and wondering how much of me would show through. I was very aware of how tenuous my hold on my job is now. But it isn't just losing my job that terrifies me. If I lose my job and can't immediately replace it I'll be in violation of my parole. I can't let that happen.

I unfastened my bra and shrugged it down off my shoulders, baring my breasts to Mr. Kent once again. Even after all that happened to me last night it was nearly as hard to bare my breasts as it was when I did it for the first time last night.

Actually, because Heather is sitting beside him now and being forced to watch, it's even more difficult. No mother wants her daughter to witness her being used this way.

Since Heather began going through puberty I'd been trying to decide what and when to tell her about sex. This was not the sex education I envisioned for her.

I dropped my bra and slid my panties down. Mr. Kent waved me over and pulled me into his lap facing Heather so that she's forced to witness every inappropriate thing that he does to me.

He moved his hands over my body as if he owns it. He pushed my thighs apart and examined my newly trimmed pubic hair. He didn't say anything. I guess it met with his approval.

I saw Heather watching as his finger slowly entered me. He watched her face. He saw the turmoil there and I knew that he was getting turned on by the fact that she was forced to witness my rape.

After several long, degrading minutes, Mr. Kent removed his finger from my vagina and held it up so that we could all see the light glistening off my juices. He smiled and said to Heather, "See that? Do you know what it means when her cunt gets all wet like that? It means she likes it. It means she's gettin' hot."

He held his finger under Heather's nose and said, "Smell that. That's what a horny pussy smells like."

Heather's face twisted in disgust and she turned her head.

Mr. Kent chuckled and placed his hand on my belly. He slit it slowly upward until it cupped my breast. He squeezed hard enough to make me wince before he began teasing and playing with my nipple. Once that nipple was erect he moved to the other and got that one standing up as well.

Then he leaned down and took the nipple closest to him into his mouth. Heather watched my reaction curiously. It killed me that she was witnessing this. But it was even more humiliating because even though I hate this man with every fiber of my being, I couldn't deny that what he was doing was sending shockwaves to my clit and it was delicious.

I was unable to hide from him or from my daughter how pleasant it felt as he worked on my nipple with his lips, tongue and teeth. These were the wonderful sensations that I've denied myself for so long. As I was forced to experience those pleasurable sensations now, I found myself regretting my life of self imposed abstinence. But I couldn't enjoy them so much that I could forget that my daughter was being forced to watch as I was introduced to these wonderful feelings.

That I would have to be put through this by a man I couldn't stand was bad enough. But to have to do it with my daughter so close that my foot was touching her leg ... no mother should have to experience that.

I couldn't look Heather in the eyes as this sadist molested me in front of her. But I couldn't avoid seeing her face and being aware of how she was responding to what she was forced to witness. It was impossible not to see that although it embarrassed her, although she didn't want to watch her mother being abused like this, she was fascinated. She couldn't look away.

I felt his erection growing and moving under me. I knew that this humiliating groping wouldn't last much longer. I was right. In a very short time he pushed me out of his lap. I stood in front of him, nervously waiting for him to tell me what he wanted me to do next.

I stepped back to give him room when he stood up and undressed. He made quick work of stripping and sat back down beside my little girl.

Heather's eyes were drawn to his massive erection almost against her will. I saw the look of fear and awe on her face. She seemed unable to tear her gaze away from his exposed manhood. He saw her expression too. And I could see that it amused him. I probably had that same look on my face last night when I saw his cock for the first time.

Mr. Kent spread his legs. He didn't even have to tell me what he wanted me to do. I dropped to my knees and inched forward until I was between his knees. I leaned forward and began doing all the nasty things he made me do last night.

I stuck out my tongue and began to lick and gently suck on his large, hairy testicles. It was easier this time. I wasn't quite as scared. Well, I was just as scared. But at least this time I had some idea of what to expect, for what it was worth.

But it was harder, too. Because my daughter was sitting so close that my arm was almost touching her. She was staring at me, almost in shock as I used my tongue on this horrible man's sex organs against my will.

He demanded more of me this time. He forced more of his fat cock into my mouth, jamming the dark red tip against the back of my throat as I went down on it. He didn't seem to mind the tears running down my cheeks, or the gagging. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

He watched me closely and then he started talking to me as I sucked his cock. His strong, cruel voice was a steady drone in my ears, telling me to calm down and get over it. He sounded like an expert when he insisted that my difficulties were all in my head. I briefly wondered how many other innocent, unwilling women and girls he's forced to perform like this. It's obvious that I'm not the first woman he has trained to be a cocksucker.

He started telling me to swallow at the top of each stroke just before I started forcing my wide stretched lips back down over his cock. I tried that, obeying automatically.

His suggestion seemed to help. After a couple of attempts I stopped gagging. He watched me as I started to calm down and then, on one of my down strokes, with no warning he pulled against the back of my head and thrust his hips up.

I felt his cock slide right down into my throat! I was horrified to find myself with the entire thing in my mouth and throat and my lips stretched impossibly wide around the base of his cock!

I was too startled to panic, at first. The pain was worse than I could have imagined; worse than any pain I've experienced before. I expected to pass out and I was terribly disappointed when I didn't.

The pain quickly became a secondary problem. I was so shocked at first that I didn't even realize I couldn't breathe! Suddenly the pain didn't even matter! I was going to die if I didn't get that thing out of my throat! I struggled to pull back and get some air before I lost consciousness. He let me. But not immediately. First he held me in place and smiled down at my panicky face.

Just as I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen he relented. My vision had faded to black by the time he chuckled and let me pull back. He continued to hold me there with the top half of his cock still in my mouth and he happily exclaimed in his mocking voice, "There, cunt! I knew you could do it! That's how a cunt like you should suck a cock!"

I couldn't see because of the tears in my eyes. And for that I was grateful. I didn't want to see my daughter's face as she watched me being raped and abused like this.

I took a deep breath and at his insistence I tried to do it again. I failed. Once more I needed his hand on the back of my head, forcing his cock into my throat. For the next few strokes he used his hand to force his cock down my throat. It hurt terribly each time. But then he sat back and I surprised myself by taking it down on my own.

It was painful. It hurt like hell. But when I did it on my own it didn't seem to hurt quite as much and I was able to control my breathing. The pain began to lessen and the panic subsided when I was no longer dependent on that cruel bastard for my air supply.

As I sucked on his cock, and as I began to take his cock down my throat, not with ease, but with less trauma, my vision began clearing and I saw that Mr. Kent now had his arm around Heather's shoulders. He had pulled her closer and she was watching in disbelief as she saw me take his large cock into my throat on every stroke.

I was so humiliated that at first I didn't even notice that his hand was resting on her budding young breast, despite his assurance to me earlier that he wouldn't touch her.

I began to sense that he was nearing orgasm and before long he grabbed my head again and pulled my face down hard against his hairy belly on one of the painful down strokes. I felt his cock throbbing in my throat and I knew that he was cumming. I almost felt like I was cheating. I couldn't breathe, but at least I didn't have to taste his nasty cum.

Before he finally let me go I started getting worried. I had been holding his cock in my mouth and throat for a long time while he was in the grips of his orgasm. I was beginning to get desperate for air by the time he released my head.

The worst of it was over. I pulled back and filled my lungs, gasping for breath after breath of life giving oxygen. It was a minute or two before I was able to draw enough air into my burning lungs and begin to breathe more or less normally. I leaned back down and lapped up a few stray drops of cum from the end of his cock. At last I had done those things I was required to do to satisfy him. I sat back on my heels, panting and waiting for his next command.

He left me there between his thighs for a few minutes and I was slowly able to recuperate. I watched his hand on my daughter's young breast, just resting there, unmoving. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw his hand off of her and protect her. I wanted to drive a knife through this monster's heart, or that place where the heart would be in a normal human being.

I noticed that he was watching me, waiting to see what my reaction would be to his hand on Heather's breast. When he saw me watching he began to move the tip of a finger around her puffy nipple.

Her breasts have really begun to grow recently. They're about the size of an apple cut in half or perhaps a little larger, though it's a little hard to tell through those loose tops that she always wears. Like most girls her age she's very self-conscious about her developing breasts. It's a confusing time in a girl's life. She's proud that she's growing into a woman and she's anxious to acquire what she will already have come to understand is a very powerful addition to a girl's body ... breasts.

She's heard the remarks, mostly from boys at school. She will have talked with her friends and seen the emphasis on breasts in advertising and entertainment. She has an idea how important they are. But at the same time she's self-conscious and it often seems like every male she passes is staring at her. It can be a difficult adjustment for a girl to make.

I stared at Mr. Kent's finger as it slowly circled her nipple and I suddenly realized that I haven't been paying very close attention. I could see that she must be nearly an A cup now. She may not have totally outgrown those training bras which are the last ones that I bought for her. But she was on the cusp of moving up to a real bra.

Her eyes widened significantly as the unwanted sensations she was receiving from Mr. Kent's finger moving on her nipple began to register. I could see that she was troubled by her reaction to his touch. She knew it was totally inappropriate.

I felt terrible. I knew something of what she was going through. I felt the same confusion of emotions when he was teasing my breasts or when he was toying with my pussy.

I hate him and I hate it that he can make me feel pleasure from his touch. Yet there was no denying the pleasure of his touch on my breast. When he raped me right here on my living room floor last night I enjoyed one massive orgasm after another, despite the fact that I fought it with every fiber of my being. My mind was conflicted. But my body knows what it likes. I could see that I was going have to have another long, embarrassing talk with Heather after Mr. Kent left.

He ordered me to get his cock hard again. While I bent to the task he sent Heather to get him another beer.

When she returned with his beer he pulled her right back down beside him. Her disgust for him was obvious on her face. But she didn't resist as she was nestled back into his arm and his hand returned to rest possessively on her breast.

He smiled down at her, cupped her small breast and said, "You're coming right along for a girl your age. The guys are going to love you."

I could see that she was torn between embarrassment and pride. A lot of a girl's self esteem is invested in her breasts. She experiences a lot of conflicting emotions when her breasts begin to grow. Especially when they are at that stage when they are too small and too large at the same time, although it suddenly seemed that hers were a lot larger than the last time I noticed. I guess I was just ignoring the signs that my baby was growing up.

Mr. Kent's cock returned to full erection quickly as I worked on him with my tongue and my lips. But he was sitting, sipping his beer and watching me work and toying with my daughter. He didn't seem to be in a hurry. I took his erection into my throat again, several times. I did it just to see if I still could, because I knew I'd have to do it from now on. For the most part, though, I lightly teased his cock with my tongue while he relaxed, molested my daughter and enjoyed what I was doing.

He finally pushed me away and stood up. I didn't need to be told what was coming next. I could tell by his face. I moved back a couple of feet to the middle of the floor, just like I did when he raped me last night. I didn't look at Heather. I was too embarrassed. I could feel her watching us, though.

Just like he did last night he used his tongue on me first. And just like last night it was unquestionably, irresistibly erotic. I had several mind boggling orgasms before he moved up over me and I guided his large and undeniably satisfying cock into my more than ready pussy.

I would have much preferred that Heather not see any of this. On the other hand, if she's going to have to watch me being raped in front of her, I suppose that it's better that she see how much pleasure sex can bring. Perhaps she won't spend as much of her life denying herself that healthy pleasure as I did.

In the back of my mind, as much as I wanted to believe it wouldn't happen, something Mr. Kent has hinted strongly at was nagging at me. He as much as said that if not him, then one of his friends may soon be raping my daughter. I have to believe that it's in her best interest that I try not to let her see how traumatic it really is to have a man force himself on you.

The only other option is that I put an end to this. I spend five years in prison for a crime I didn't commit and take a chance on never seeing Heather again. How can I possibly choose between those two options?!

He fucked me just like he did last night. I was taken violently like a bitch in heat. My body and mind both remembered how wonderful it had been last night, and both were ready to experience that pleasure again. Even under these bizarre circumstances the erotic pleasure that Mr. Kent is capable of providing with that long, fat cock is undeniable. It may be that if I had not denied myself this pleasure all these years I would be better able to resist him. But I did and as embarrassing as it is to admit, I simply can't.

Mr. Kent may be a horrible Parole Officer, but he's very, very good at this. Even with my daughter watching from several feet away I couldn't control my lust when he took me, overpowered me, possessed me. But then, I didn't try as hard as I did last night.

This time, when the feelings of lust I experienced as that long, fat cock pounded into me were overwhelming and I felt the need to scream, I did. I moaned and I groaned and I rose up off of the floor to meet his violent thrusts. I screamed through orgasm after orgasm while my daughter watched. She was sitting so close that I could have almost reached out and touched her. She stared at us in awe, watching me being taken violently by a man who is twice my age and acting like a shameless slut.