Nathan Silvers

Whipped, bound mom


"That was Martin," said Dorothy Berenson, puffing the phone down. "We're going to spend the weekend with him again." She looked over at her daughter. "Well?"

"Fine," said Kathy. She swung her long legs off the chair and went out of the room.

Dorothy stared after her. Sometimes she was ready to throw the girl out of the house. Kathy had all the vices of an adolescent, and it was driving Dorothy crazy. Not only had Kathy inherited Dorothy's beauty, with her blonde hair and luscious figure, but she insisted on hanging around with boys no matter what Dorothy did or said. That was one reason Dorothy liked to go to Martin's house on the beach. At least Kathy was away from those boys.

Dorothy sighed and walked over to the window. The girl still wouldn't listen to her about men. Dorothy was lucky, or rather clever. She'd insisted on a marriage and then played her poor innocent husband for all she could get. It hadn't been as much as she would have liked, of course, but it kept her comfortable, and at least one wretched man would be paying for his seduction for a great many years yet.

By the window was a mirror and Dorothy caught a long glimpse of herself in it. She might be thirty-two, but everybody thought she was only in her early twenties. And they were right, she did look wonderful. Her tall, slim figure had tits that stood out from her body with no need of support at all. Dorothy turned to get a better look. From her tiny waist her hips swelled out and led down to a pair of legs that always drew whistles from the construction workers as she went by. Oh yes, men wanted her all right, but they weren't going to get her. Not until there was one good enough. One who could pay the price. Take them for all they were worth, that was Dorothy's motto, and it had done well for her through the years of bringing Kathy up. Men took her out, and Dorothy loved going on dates. She even let some of them back in for coffee and usually they tried to get her into bed. She'd put them right very fast. And they paid for it.

During the ride out to the beach the next day, Dorothy looked frequently at her daughter. That tight blouse and those tiny shorts were bound to inflame the lusts of most men, particularly with a figure like hers. She looked at Kathy and the young girl flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder and stared out of the window.

Dorothy got a slight shock at Martin's beach house. The place was still the same, and Martin greeted them as warmly as always. In the background Dorothy could hear the long slow murmur of the waves. She had to go and take a swim before dinner. No, everything was as always, except that there was a couple there, Josh and Zola Simpson.

Dorothy didn't like extra people. She had a cozy relationship with Martin and she didn't want anybody intruding on it. Not that Josh and Zola didn't look nice. Josh was a few years younger than Martin, probably in his mid thirties. Zola, his wife, was a soft-faced, dark haired woman with brown eyes and a wide, sensual mouth. She dressed rather unsuitably for a married woman, or so Dorothy thought. Her bikini was so skimpy it only covered her nipples and the triangle of her pussy hair. Otherwise she was as good as naked.

But they were pleasant. Dorothy went for her swim and they all had dinner. Martin was a good host and Dorothy learned a bit more about Josh and Zola. Josh was a business partner of Martin's. Dorothy didn't ask what his business was, but there was some exporting involved and Martin had brought Josh in to help with that. They chatted and, as usual, Dorothy refused coffee after dinner.

"I have trouble sleeping," she explained. She had had the trouble for years and it was getting worse, but Dorothy would never admit it. Some nights she would watch the television until dawn and then fall into a fitful slumber. "I really must be going to bed now, or I'll be a wreck in the morning."