Generations – One Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Grandmother

 

If truth be told, we never really had a chance from the moment we returned home.  It was my sixtieth birthday, and I had gone for a celebration meal with my daughter and granddaughter at a local restaurant I liked.  I do remember the food was excellent, even if my daughter Carol had tipped the waiter off it was my birthday, and I got the pudding with the sparklers and the singing…

 

It was late autumn, and we all dressed in the way we liked to dress – which for me, meant stylish but still slightly sexy.  I may be sixty, and a widower, but I still like to be attractive – so I had on a dark grey blouse and leather skirt, dark tights and knee length black leather boots and fancy black leather boots.  Carol, her daughter Susan and me all travelled back to Susan’s house in a taxi, looking forward to a quiet drink and then I would head home – but that was not what happened.

 

Everything started to go wrong when we walked into the house, and walked into the front room – well, Susan and Carol walked into the front room.  I didn’t get a chance, because I heard Carol say “what the” and then I was grabbed from behind, a gloved hand clamped over my mouth.  A voice whispered “walk” as I was dragged backwards, while I heard Susan say something, and then forced to walk up the stairs.

 

I was shaking my head, trying to get the hand away from my mouth, but the grip was far too strong, as the door to a guest bedroom was opened and I was forced inside.  The bedside lamp was on, and I could see on the floor a bag – the top open, and ropes sticking out of it.

 

“If I take my hand away, and you scream, your family gets hurt and so do you.  Understand?”

 

I nodded my head, not wanting them to be hurt, as the man said “Good – when I take my hand away, walk to the bed, sit down, and hold your hands out, palms together.”  I felt as if I didn’t have a choice, so I nodded again and felt the pressure go from my mouth.  Slowly, I walked forward and turned round, sitting on the bed as I looked at who had taken me captive.

 

He was a young man, tall, broad shouldered – but I could not see his face.  He wore a balaclava mask, so that all I could see where his eyes and lips, and dark clothing – but the rope he picked up out of the bag was white, as he walked forward, doubled it over, and then wrapped it round my wrists as I held my hands up in prayer.

 

And I was praying – praying whoever this was, whatever was going on, that none of us would end up getting hurt.  I could hear two sets of footsteps outside the door of the room, going past, but the pressure that suddenly was applied on my wrists took my attention away.  The masked man was winding the rope around and between my wrists, securing them tightly together, before he tied the ropes off out of reach of my fingers.

 

“What are you doing?  What do you want?”  The questions came out as he looked at me, but he didn’t answer, instead telling me to lie down on the bed with my hands raised.  Well, he was very determined, so I did as he asked, trying not to shake as he tied another length of rope between my wrists, and then pulled my wrists up above my head, before tying the other end of the rope to the headboard.

 

I looked up, twisting my wrists round and flexing my fingers, wondering why he was securing me to the bed.  Was it to stop me or the others stopping them robbing us?  If so, no way would any of us try to do that.  Or was it…  Was it something else…

 

I looked back down as I felt the pressure round my right ankle, and saw he was tying a length of rope around it, then pulling my ankle to the side before he secured the other end of the rope to the foot of the bed.  He repeated the process on the other side, so that my legs were spread apart, and a fear was starting to grow inside me.  My arms were secured, my legs spreads apart – what was he planning to do?

 

I could hear a muffled moan from another room, so I asked what he was going to do.  His response took me completely by surprise – he leaned over and pressed his lips on mine, kissing me!  When he moved back, I opened my mouth to protest – at which point, he pushed a red rubber ball into my mouth, and then fastened two leather straps round my head, pressing on my cheeks as he fastened some sort of hasp behind my head. 

 

The ball was wedged between my teeth, the leather biting on my skin as was the rope on my wrists – and when I tried to speak, I could only mumble meaninglessly.  I could feel the sweat on my head and body, however, especially as he looked at me, and then started to slowly, gently unfasten my blouse.  My grey-blonde hair was already pushed back, but I felt it move as I shook my head and looked at the masked man.

 

He just looked at me, and said “relax – this will be good for you” as he unfastened the last buttons, opening my blouse up and revealing my black lace bra.  I stared at him, shaking my head, realising what he was intending to do, but as I wriggled round my chest was shaking as well, and I realised he was staring at that – and then his hands were on my chest, gently and slowly massaging them as he reached down and gently kissed my throat, my neck.

 

Years ago, my husband would do a similar thing to me, but then my arms were wrapped round him.  Now my hands were held out of the way, but I could feel for the first time in many years my body beginning to respond in the way it had responded then.  My breasts were getting firmer under the pressure of his gloved hands, and I could feel from the touch of his lips the pin pricks of shock at the way he was kissing me.

 

But at my age – and he was holding me captive, I wasn’t a willing participant in all this!  As he continued the massage, however, something was stirring from deep inside me, a long forgotten warmth – and quite possibly the last thing I wanted to feel right then.

 

Right?  So why when he starts to play with my nipples am I staring at him, wondering what else he is going to do – and then when he takes a penknife and cuts away my bra straps, removes my bra, and encircles my nipples with his lips am I groaning and not screaming?

 

His tongue feels like sandpaper on my nipples, but the gentle pressure from his sealed lips is something altogether different.  And as he moves from side to side, I wriggle more slowly, wondering if he is really going to do something else…

 

When he tied my legs, the hem of my skirt was stretched and rose up, but when he reaches down and lowers the zip, I watch him pull it up to around my waist, his hand running over my hose between my legs, over my panties, over my…

 

Oh sweet lord in heaven above…

 

Now I knew I was in trouble, as I felt the dampness when he pressed down between my legs, stroking with his fingers as he continued to kiss my breasts.  My nipples were hard now because of his attention, and I found myself pushing up to meet his hand – especially when he eased my tights and panties down, and started to play with me right there…

 

It was wrong, I know it was wrong, but it was as if the animal side of my brain had taken over, as he slipped a finger into my passage – and then sucked on it, before he slowly pulled his pants down, and I knew what was coming – my eyes widening when I saw how large he was between his legs, and then my brain exploding when I felt how large he was inside me.

 

He straddled me as he went in, and – I’m afraid what happened after that is a blur of lust and screams on my part, until he finally came within me.  When he moved, I was exhausted, and yet somehow, despite everything, sated – so when he tied a rope round my waist and moved it so that I could see the long length between my spread legs, I wondered what was happening.

 

It happened quickly – the vibrator pushed into me, the crotch rope tied to keep it into place, and then the waves starting again as he searched the room, and I forgot to even think about the others…

 

 

The Daughter

 

Gran didn’t even make it into the room – when we walked in, I was grabbed and a leather gloved hand pressed over my mouth.  Mum looked at me and said “what the…” and then we heard someone walking upstairs – presumably with Gran.

 

I was terrified – and I could see Mum was as well.  I was wearing a long sleeved top with black sleeves and a coloured geometric pattern on the main top, a black skirt, black tights and knee length tan leather boots, but right then I was just wondering what was going on.  I could see a man next to Mum – dark clothing, and a mask over his face so that only his eyes and mouth were showing – and he was pointing a gun at her head, telling her not to scream or he would shoot her, then me.

 

I guessed whoever was holding me was dressed in the same way, as Mum said she wouldn’t do anything, and not to hurt her.  I just nodded as the man behind me told me to be quiet, and to put my hands behind my back.

 

Well, how was I going to argue?  I’m twenty, and no weakling, but they had at least one gun, so I did what I was told to do, feeling whoever it was grab my wrists and cross them, and then some sort of rope as it was pulled tightly round them, forcing them together as it rubbed on my wrists.  The man with Mum had put the gun down, and he had put her hands behind her back as well, as he started to tie her wrists together as well.

 

I then saw some more rope as it was passed round my body – and as my arms were forced into my side, the man with mum tied more rope round her arms, which pushed her chest out in a way not even the world’s best push=up bra could manage.  She’s twice my age, but somehow…

 

I was distracted then – the man with me was winding rope tightly round my arms, above and below my chest, stretching my top as he did so – and then he tied the bands together behind my back, and walked round as he took the rope over my shoulder.  I could see him – dressed in black, a bit fat – as he fed the rope under the band of rope under my chest and pulled it up, making it press under me as he took it back over my other shoulder, and secured it.

 

As I wriggled round, the ropes rubbed on me – and then he pushed me out of the room and told me to walk up the stairs, where Gran had been taken.  When I left the room, the other man had started to pull Mum’s top up over her head…

 

We got to the top of the stairs and I saw the guest room door was closed, and there were sounds from behind the door, but my captor pushed me forward and asked which room was mine.  I nodded to the door, and he opened it, pushing me before he closed the door behind us, and dropped a bag on the floor, ropes on the top as it opened up.

 

He looked at me, and then told me to open my mouth.  I shook my head at that – I was afraid of what he was going to do – but he just smiled, and walked behind me – before he reached round and squeezed hard on my left breast.  I opened my mouth to yelp – and felt something been pushed in instead, something the expanded rapidly, filling my mouth behind my teeth, pressing my tongue down, stopping any real sound from getting out…

 

There was then a ripping sound, and the end of a roll of silver tape was stuck to my cheek before it was wound tightly round my head, covering my lips, pressing in on my cheeks, holding my long brown hair against the back of my neck, and keeping me very, very quiet.  I was really afraid now – unable to move my arms, and unable to speak, totally at the mercy of whatever he was thinking of doing to me…

 

And what was he planning to do to me anyway?  He said nothing, but instead pushed me towards the bed, and told me to kneel down on the floor.  Well, how could I say no?  Literally, how could I say anything?

 

When I knelt down, I heard him come behind me, and then his hands on my ankles as he put them together – before the rope forced them against each other.  I felt him quickly wrap the rope around and between my legs, the leather squeaking as I mumbled something.  The sponge – I realised that was what it was now – was soaking up all the saliva in my mouth, but I could not force it out, with all the tape over my mouth…

 

I then felt his hands on my legs, and more rope rubbing on my legs as they were tied together just above my knees.  I felt his gloved hands on my legs, as I wriggled round, so that he could make sure they were really well secured, but it felt – different.  As if he was feeling my legs up at the same time…

 

If that had been all he did with his arms and hands, well…  But that was not all he did.  I felt him sit astride my legs, and then his hands as he reached round and roughly squeezed my breasts.

 

I swear, I had no idea they had firmed up while he was securing me – but I was surprised at how firm they felt when he was groping me.  And shocked at how firm they felt when he was groping me.

 

And shocked to hear myself moaning as his fingers pressed on them, working them, teasing them.  No man had ever done this to me before – but then, no man had ever tied me so I could hardly move, gagged me so I could hardly speak, and treated me like this before.

 

I knew there was nothing I could do about this, and I was determined not to give him the pleasure of thinking this was working – which lasted for about two minutes, as he pulled me back against himself and continued to grope me.   My top was stretched so tightly now over my chest, it offered no protection to his assault on me – and I was surprised at how firm my nipples felt, especially when his gloved fingers started to press on them…

 

For a moment, I thought he was going to cut away my top, and expose me, but that wasn’t what he did – he just continued to hold me against him, and massage my chest as I started to get hot and wondered why I felt so strange elsewhere – and what it was that was pressing against me on his part as he held me.  Seriously – I had no idea what it was.

 

At first.

 

I started to discover as he moved one of his hands behind me, and I felt my skirt loosen as he lowered the zip, then the feeling of it falling down my legs as it fell to the floor.  He then lowered my tights down, as I started to shake – at first, from fear, but something else was going on in me, and I had no idea what it was.

 

I really was starting to feel decidedly strange – and I had no idea what else was going on in me, as I felt him press my panties against me – and they were damp?  Why were they damp?  What was…

 

My eyes opened wide then as he pulled my panties down, and I realised what it was he was planning to do.  I shook my head and tried to scream – but he pushed my head down onto the mattress as I felt his gloved hand moving along me between my legs, and my body really started to shake as he did this.

 

Nothing…  Nothing could have prepared me for what he did next.  I heard the sound of a zip going down, and then he eased his finger into me as I knelt there, bent over the bed, played with me there, made me shake even more, made me feel as I had never felt before…

 

Then he did it.  I felt him press against me, and his cock entered me, pushed forward – and I felt the tear, felt the pain, felt the way he felt inside me – and I screamed into my gag.  Not just out of fear, out of shame, but – and this is true – because what he was doing made me feel something extraordinary as well.  He just kept pushing forward, as I felt my body instinctively grip him, felt him grow larger in there, rubbing on me in there, making me feel delirious, making me feel amazing, the fear subsumed by something more primitive…

 

Then my whole body started shaking as I was overwhelmed.  I felt something coming out of him into me, something liquid and I knew what was going on, so I closed my eyes and just…

 

I’m ashamed to say it, but I just let the pleasure and the joy fill me, to block out the truth of the situation.  When he finished, I was barely aware of him making me lie on the floor, or of the fact he tied my ankles to my chest ropes, I was so exhausted, so elated…

 

 

The Mother

 

How the hell did you think I felt?  We had come home to find masked and armed men in my house, one of them holding Susan, another taking my mother upstairs, and the third holding a gun to my head?

 

It had been a nice meal as well – all three of us dressed up to the nines, me in a sand coloured top with a grey lace collar, a brown tartan skirt, light grey tights and a pair of grey suede boots that came to below my knee.  And instead of rounding the evening off with a drink, I was been told to keep quiet or they would kill me, and then my daughter?

 

I could see the fear in Susan’s eyes a is said we would do whatever they told us to do, and I looked at the man holding her, his hand over her mouth, before I looked at the man holding a gun to my head.  Both were dressed in black, with balaclava masks, as Susan was told to put her hands behind my back.

 

My own were grabbed and forced round as well, my hands pressed together palm to palm, before I felt some rope bene pulled tightly round them.  I hoped this was a robbery – the worst that could happen was we were tied up, kept quiet, and then we could try and free each other.

 

The ropes were tight, holding my wrists firmly together as he tied it around and between my arms, so that all I could do was wriggle my fingers and watch as Susan’s wrists were tied as well.  I then watched the man with her as he wound some rope round her body, forcing her arms into her sides, and I figured that was what was going to happen to me.

 

How wrong could I be?  Instead, I felt my captor wrap more rope around my arms, at my elbows, and then force them together.  Doing that pulled my shoulders back, and made my chest stick up and out as, like my wrists, he tied the rope around and between my arms.

 

And it hurt – but I was too scared to say anything, as I watched the second man almost create a bra on Susan with the ropes.  He then pushed her towards the door – as, at the same time, the man with me reached down and pulled my top up, over my head and down to my elbows, leaving me standing in my bra.

 

It was a strapless bra, fastened at the front with a clasp, but as Susan was taken out of the room he reached round and unfastened the clasp, pulling it away so that I was standing naked from the waist up.  I felt his breath in my ear as he whispered into it, complementing on me how good I looked at my age – and then I saw the rope as it was passed above and below my chest, and then around and between them, creating a rope harness that really did force my breasts up and out.

 

Especially as the ropes were so tight, compressing on my chest as it was tied.  It hurt so much – but he just laughed when I said that, and tied another length of rope round my waist – one that had a series of knots tied in the length that he let drop in front of me.

 

I wondered what he was going to do with that – but I found out very quickly, as he unzipped and let my skirt drop to the floor, and reached between my legs, pulling the rope up between my legs as the knots were pressed firmly against my body in various – very sensitive places.

 

He pulled it up tight as well, forcing my panties and tights against those places, before I felt him tie the ends round my elbows.  So there I was, trussed upper body, and afraid to move.

 

Which, of course, is when he knelt down, put my ankles together, and tied them together with rope, and finally secured my legs together below my knees.  I had no idea what it was he wanted me to do then – although from the way he reached round after he had stood up, and played with my chest, I was getting a fairly good idea.

 

The ropes had already made my breasts bulge, but as he played with them, kneaded them, teased them they got firmer still, despite my please to him to stop.  I expected him to stuff something in my mouth then – but he didn’t almost as if he was getting turned on by my pleading.

 

And when he pressed up against my back, I could feel he was getting turned on, from the bulge that pressed against my bottom, against that rope…  I kept pleading, and then he told me he was going to shut up, and forced me to kneel on the floor.

 

As he walked in front of me, I wondered what he was going to use to gag me – and then he lowered the zip of his trousers, and his enormous, engorged cock fell out.  I knew then what he was going to use to keep me quiet, and I shook my head furiously.  Anything but that…

 

So when he picked the gun he had used earlier up, and said if it wasn’t his cock, it was the barrel, I knew I really had no choice.  I watched as he walked slowly forward, and stood in front of me, and told me to kiss his cock.  I really had no choice, I was shaking with fear, but I shuffled forward and kissed his cock – it was salty, and it seem dot be clean, despite everything.

 

I kissed it again, and at his instruction I ran my lips up and down it, looking at him as I did so – and he held it in his hand, and told me to kiss the tip.  I nodded and did so, then kissed it again – and as I did so, he reached round and pulled up the rope that was between my legs, rubbing on me.  In surprise I opened my mouth – and he moved his cock in, my lips closing over it as it filled my mouth.

 

He told me to keep going, with my mouth and tongue, and I felt I had no choice, so I started to move my head to and fro, sucking gently and using my tongue to run along the base of his member.  He seemed to like this – and in fact, he engorged some more, pressing my tongue down.  Telling me to keep going, he started to move the rope slowly up, and then letting it drop down again, as I started to use my lips and mouth to pleasure him.

 

I could hear soft moans from upstairs, but I was bene forced to do this myself, as he grew large in my mouth.  It wasn’t the first time I had given anyone a blow job – although my mother and Susan probably would not want to hear that – but it was not like this.

 

IT was like this – the pressure, the throbbing no my tongue.  But the ropes rubbing on me, the knot resting against my sex and been moved up and down against me as I continued to kiss and work him, it was making me feel giddy – and even seemed to be making it easier for me to cope with this, to work him, to deal with the fact a dirty great big throbbing cock was in my mouth, keeping me quiet, and I knew full damn well that if I did this for long enough…

 

He was growing larger in there as well, and I could hear his moans – as well as mine, as that damn rope rubbed on me, making me start to shake and quiver.  I could not deny there was a fire burning inside me now as a result – not one I wanted him to do anything about, but it was there, and the very act of him moving that rope and forcing me to suck him off seemed to be adding to those sensations.

 

I knew he would cum, it was inevitable, but somewhere deep inside I was praying that would be enough – and that if I had to do this, the timing would be right so that what he was doing to me would drive me over the edge as well, make it more acceptable…

 

And those prayers were answered, as I felt him jump just as I felt my own orgasm coming, and I sucked harder than before – the key to him cumming, the hot salty fluid hitting the back of my mouth as I kept my lips sealed round his cock, while at the same time I started to shake as an orgasm rushed over me as well.  I t was frightening, it was grotesque…

 

 

 

It was glorious…

 

I swallowed and sucked, determined not let any slip out as my body slowly came down, and then I let him go, smiling at him as he looked at me, and then pressed a length of white tape firmly over my mouth, before he made me lie on my side on the floor.

 

From his pocket, he took a small white device – and I knew what it was when he slipped it into my panties under the rope, and then pulled my ankles back, tying them to my elbows as he left me there, wondering what I had done to deserve this.

 

What we had done to deserve this…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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