Mother and Daughter Ride Again     
by wbill99_1999


Jill looked down at the red, tearstained face between her thighs. She
felt a feeling of deep satisfaction; it was good to be back in the
saddle again. She almost felt affection for her victim - after all,
when you have been tormenting someone for a long period, you do develop
a relationship, a bond as it were. There was a smell of crushed grass in
her nostrils and the sylvan glade that she had made her torture chamber
for the afternoon had an atmosphere of such tranquil calm that anyone
would struggle to feel antagonistic towards anyone. She beamed down at
her prisoner. "Well, we're getting to the final stage now. I have got
one last little thing that I want to do to you so that you will remember
me. A little going away present, as it were"

It had started with a phone call; with a voice from the past. Mousy
little Monica Gilberthorpe was a rather timid little woman but with a streak
of iron running through her. Many years before - more years than Jill
cared to remember - she had enlisted her to straighten out her
violent, abusive husband. This Jill had willingly done - she remembered
the occasion well. She had been at the peak of her powers then and the
poor fellow hadn't stood a chance. Jill had dealt to him in the privacy
of his own home, with Monica watching. She thought that she had put on
quite a show that night, running through every throw and hold that she
knew or could invent whilst Monica had sat riveted, her eyes gleaming
with excitement. She tortured him unmercifully and although she had
left no visible marks on him, she knew that he would be scarred for
ever. Now Monica had contacted her with another request - her 17 year old son.
"Like father, like son " she had told Jill, who chuckled to herself as
she thought of her daughter Rachel and her activities. Jill had learnt
that his name was Peter, and although his father had long departed, was
showing signs of inheriting all his father's worst traits. "I would
like him straightened up before it's too late"

Monica had been quite definite on her requirements and had even
suggested a venue for the meeting. It was small reserve of native bush
on the outskirts of town; very secluded, it was seldom visited, but in
the middle was a small clearing with a hut that the Conservation
Department used. Monica told her that her son used this area along with his
mates to smoke their joints and take their girlfriends; it was a simple
matter to attract him to this venue on the pretext of an assignation
with one his girlfriends. There were enough of them with grievances and
more than willing to make the phone call. The trap had been set.
Jill prepared for her assignment carefully. Standing in her bedroom,
she looked at herself critically in the mirror. She had pulled on a
plain black swimsuit, cut low at the front to emphasize her large,
voluptuous breasts and also cut to highlight her smooth, creamy,
powerful thighs. She had pulled her raven black hair into a tight bun which,
with her pale complexion, made her look severe and formidable. Hmm - not bad
for 52, she thought. She did a double bicep pose; they weren't body builder
large, but they were still impressive. To her surprise she felt quite nervous:
it had been about 5 or 6 years since she had done anything like this and a
shiver of anticipation had run through her.

Monica had asked if she could watch, out of sight of course, and Jill had
readily agreed. Rachel had also insisted on going along as well. "Riding
Shotgun" she had called it; she had been disappointed that her

mother was to be the instrument for Peter's instruction. "This should be a job
for me" she had told Jill "I'm used to working on boys of that age" Jill had
to be firm with her, but as consolation, agreed that she could come along in
case one of Peter's equally objectionable mates turned up.

Jill had a few weeks to prepare for her assignment and she used the time well.
She and Rachel had many workouts on the back lawn or indoors if the weather
was cold or wet. It was then that Jill realised how Rachel had developed; she
was deceptively strong and agile to the point of being double-jointed. Jill
had found herself pinned many times and unlike her mother, Rachel had no
qualms about ending the fight sitting on her mother's face. These occasions
left Jill flustered and confused - the smooth lycra clad crotch of her
daughter and her perfume mixed with the unmistakeable musky smell of her
arousal, caused Jill to feel randy and guilty. Rachel had no such feelings of
guilt and on at least two occasions had orgasms of quite extraordinary power.
Jill had won a few of these encounters, but in spite of ending up in a tight
schoolgirl pin, she just couldn't bring herself to make that last tiny move
onto her daughter's face. In the privacy of her bedroom afterwards she had to
resort to her vibrator to gain some relief.

The trap had worked well and the unsuspecting Peter had arrived at the
rendezvous. Jill had stepped out from behind the small hut to confront him. In
a quiet but assertive voice she told who she was, why she was there and what
she planned to do to him : as she spoke she removed her tracksuit top and
bottoms until she stood revealed in all her formidable glory. Peter looked at
her incredulously: he was, Jill had to admit, a rather gorgeous looking young
man, but the petulant set of the mouth told Jill all she wanted to know about
his character. "Piss off granny" he sneered "I don't fight old women. If
that's your granddaughter over there, then that might be ok" He nodded in the
direction of Rachel, who was lurking in the background, a faint smile on her
lips.

"Forget her. You're mine" Jill snapped. Moving forward, she backhanded a
resounding slap across his face - the loud crack resounded around the
clearing. Peter staggered back gaping disbelievingly. "You old bitch. Right
you asked for it" He rushed at her and swung a violent punch. Almost
contemptuously, Jill caught his wrist with a loud slap and held it; for a
moment they both strained against each other as Peter realized to his horror
that Jill was faster and stronger than he was. Jill changed her grip on his
arm and with almost casual grace threw him over her hip. Peter hit the grass
hard and lay still; Jill stood looking down at him "Get up" she barked. Peter
struggled to his feet and was promptly seized and his legs were swept from
under him. Again Jill stood, hands on hips, looking down at him. Like a lot of
young men, he had no idea of how to fight or more particularly, wrestle. They
could throw punches and put the boot in and act tough, but when it came to
close quarter grappling, they were hopeless. Jill reached down seized his
wrist and digging her fingers into a nerve, sprang him to his feet. Again he
was thrown, again he hit the ground hard.

The softening up process lasted for some time and when Jill finally sank to
the grass to begin his torment, there was little resistance left. Knotting her
legs around his head she clamped on a tight figure four headscissors and
leaning back on her arms she began to squeeze. Rachel wandered over and
looking down at the contorted face said "Look at Pop-eye the Sailorman. Nice
one mother"

Monica, hiding back in the shadows, was entranced; she would have loved to be
able to do that herself, but she simply didn't have the strength, agility and
co-ordination to ever be able to fight like that. Rachel, eyes glittering,
moved back into the shade of the trees. She had never seen her mother in
action like that before and couldn't believe the clinical efficiency that Jill
displayed as she worked on the young man. Jill had meanwhile captured an arm
and, locking it under an armpit, applied a painful elbow lock to go with the
headscissors. Peter bellowed and his feet beat a tattoo on the grass.

The torment continued and time seemed to stand still. At last Jill released
the holds and got to her knees. The young man lay still on the grass,
whimpering softly. She looked down at him for a moment, and then with a look
of anticipation on her face, she swung her right leg over him and mounted him.
Shuffling high on his chest, she pinned each of his arms under his shins with
exaggerated,almost elaborate care. She placed her hands on her hips, her
shoulders slumped and she gave a contented sigh. The real excitement was about
to start.

Jill looked down at her victim. "Well we've had quite a afternoon so far
haven't we Peter. I think that you have learned a lot from me already haven't
you. You see, I love sitting on men. We are going to be here for some time and
you will learn all about the true meaning of humility; when I have finished
with you I don't think that even your own mother will recognise you. Right now
I am going to torture you for a while - it's pure self indulgence on my part
and I must confess that I get my jollies this way.as well. It's a nice body
you've got there young Peter, but I'm afraid that it is going to be doing
quite a bit of threshing around in just a moment" She was rewarded by a look
of pure terror on the young man's face. Head on one side and laughing
silently, Jill raised herself on her knees and began to slide them backwards
and forwards over Peter's biceps. His yelps echoed around the clearing and his
hips jerked up in the air.

Standing with Monica in the shadows of the trees, Rachel, eyes glittering,
looked intently at the scene. She had worn her tight, black, silken shorts and
sports bra in the vain hope that Jill might have relented and passed the
assignment to her, but she had to admit that she found the whole spectacle an
erotic treat.Her mother had often expressed her appreciation at watching
Rachel in action on their back lawn and how attractive the angles were that
her body made as she practised her straddler's art on her victims. Now it was
her turn to watch her mother run through the whole gambit of torments that
could be inflicted on a helpless male. Jill had taken her time, moving with
studied slowness from one torture to the next; they all produced a
satisfactory amount of noise from victim. She had just completed a phase of
jiggling her knees up and down the side of Peter's head, causing him to shriek
as his ears were tormented. Monica too, quiet as ever, was entranced, never
taking her eyes off the scene. She had never seen anything quite like it and
the guilt feelings that she felt over the perversity of the punishment she had
arranged for her son were buried by the hope that he might just become a
changed person through it.

Monica heard Rachel catch her breath. Jill had shuffled forward and now sat on
Peter's face; the moans and little cries were now muffled under Jill's ample
derriere. In a last burst of resistance Peter tried to bring his legs up and
snare Jill from behind. Almost contemptuously she grabbed them and locked them
under her arms and leant way forward so that his feet almost touched the
ground behind his head. His muffled cries rose to a crescendo as his back and
thigh muscles were stretched. Jill looked up at them, a grim smile of
satisfaction playing around her lips; her nipples were erect and Rachel
guessed that there would be a degree of excitement somewhere else too. Jill
released his legs and sat up straight; her hips moved to and fro very slowly
and she gazed sightlessly at them, her face slack with passion. All was silent
in the clearing.

The reverie was shattered by a harsh male voice "Pete, for Christ's sake, is
that you". The interloper was a tall youth in baggy shorts and T shirt with
straggly blonde hair. "Shit man, what the fuck is she doing to you" Without
any further ado he ran across the grass to where Jill, having recovered her
poise looked up startled at him. "Bitch - get off him" he screamed.

Back in the shadows, Rachel moved smoothly forward; you're on girl, she
thought

Grinning broadly she approached the middle of the clearing "Hi - I'm Rachel"
she said

End of part one