The Present

THE PRESENT

By Ross Martin

Chapter 2: The Arrival

Old Bill who lived on a small property a mile from the nearest neighbor and five miles to the nearest town had received a phone call that morning about a package he should be expecting to arrive that day. It was Friday and he was told he could have the package all weekend. This, as always, suited him down to the ground.

Of course he could always refuse a package but he'd never done that. There was only one way he would and it had thankfully never come up. He liked packages and had handled a dozen already for the company since his retirement five years ago. It was a pleasure sometimes just to be able to keep his hand in and give some customer what they want. Once he even handled a particular package twice. Now that was really something but he didn't expect it to happen again. He didn't expect to have that package for a third time but he could always cross his fingers it might happen.

The pick-up came to a jarring Holt for its passenger in the back a few feet from his porch. It also kicked up a lot of road as id did so and he imagined he could hear coughing. He knew the men getting out probably could but they would pay no never mind to that. They moved slowly getting around the back to pull out and deliver the goods. Once there they made swift work getting it down and onto its rather shaky feet. Then they pushed and pulled it toward his stairs.

He watched fascinated as it slipped here and there and was hauled back onto its feet and made to continue. The most wonderful grunting sounds came out of it as it was shoved and pushed, especially when the stairs had to be navigated. They would be tough for anyone in high heels, even tougher with legs spread wide. Being tired from a long trip with pins and needles in the legs from lying wrong most of the time or not lying at all didn't help either. Still the deliverymen kept it moving.

He watched them from his window trying as he did so to get a good look and what he'd have for the weekend. It was big that's for sure but he couldn't get a good look at the face. The head drooped down too much. Mind you, the shock of red hair did give him pause. He wondered how far he could go with this one and who would want it delivered in such a state. He let the door bell ring three times before opening the door.

"About bloody time," said a tall bald man who was resting his arms on the package's broad shoulders.

Bill looked at what he was getting more closely. It was plump without being over the top fat. He'd have plenty to work with and he always liked that. Yes, it was definitely plump and juicy in all the right places but surely it couldn't be….not a third time! He lifted its chin and looked at what he always thought were the loveliest, deepest, big brown eyes that ever existed on a package. Even desperately blinking away sweat the way they were they retained their loveliness. Betty, despite the odds, had returned! He almost smiled but was fortunately able to check himself at the last millisecond and grimaced instead.

"What have we here?" he inquired grimly as he got behind Betty the package and gave her a hearty slap on her left rump. She gave a pained squeal but managed somehow to retain her footing. He then grabbed a handful of ass flesh and squeezed until a soft, slow moan came from her. When he stopped she snorted and stamped her foot. Doing so made her feel like an animal, like a mule at auction. She felt lousy, she felt humiliated and, strangely enough, she felt great.

"Someone mustn't like this silly cow very much," opined the older of the deliverymen.

"And she is a cow," agreed the other fellow. "Look at those udders. Moo, moo, hon'. You got a bull for her?"

"Nah," said Bill, taking her nipples in hand and making her breasts wobble. It wasn't too difficult to grab them despite still being covered by cotton. They were rock hard and like champagne corks. What's more, she couldn't help looking at him with those eyes big and wide as if pleading with him to stop. Sweat had made the cloth cling a little to her so she didn't quite wobble as much as usual but it was enough to make the deliverymen and for her face to turn beet red.

"Why not?" gasped the younger deliveryman, trying to control his mirth.

"She don't deserve it," said Bill. "Any paper work?"

He let go of her nipples after giving the breasts one more shake and grabbed for the contract and pen being offered to him by the older deliverymen. He was also handed a short list of instructions.

"She's special delivery," mused the older deliveryman. "We might have felt her up on the way here only we had orders not to. We might have given her some water before dumping her on you but we had an understanding not to do that…more's the pity…for her."

"You thirsty Betty?" asked Bill.

The big woman shook her head up and down in the affirmative though she really didn't expect any water to be forthcoming.

"It says here no limits or safety words," said Bill. "It also says you come to collect her Sunday at 4pm."

"That's right," said the older deliveryman. "Mind you I don't think you have to accept delivery if you don't want to. I think there's a clause somewhere saying you can send her right back."

This stopped Bill in his tracks. Of course he wouldn't refuse but why let Betty know straight away? Part of her being here was not to know what would happen next. Also there were her looks to consider…

Sure, Betty did have a lovely peach of a face which the ball gag in her mouth only enhanced for his pleasure. Her small but pudgy mouth had already been through a lot just getting here. She also had a cute nose. Everything else about her, however, was economy sized. Her rust-colored hair had been cut short revealing her thick, heavy ears. The freckles around her tree stump neck were hidden under a layer of dust but he knew they were there. The same with the freckles on her face, arms and chest.

She looked at Bill and her mouth, blocked as it was by the gag, quivered pathetically in his direction for an answer. You really do want this don't you bitch, he said to himself.

"I'm thinking," said Bill after a while.

There she was, Betty, with her arms spread wide in greeting and her legs spread equally wide. She was wearing a rather ugly cotton thing that hid the color and texture of her ass, arms, legs and knockers but not their general shape, never their general shape.

"Look, we're going and we'll be back Sunday," said the older of the deliverymen. "Surely you can put up with her that long."

"Fine!" grumbled Bill loudly as if he was being talked into something. "As a favor to the company I'll take her. Next time bring me someone younger, prettier and…not so fat."

At the word fat he pinched her middle with both hands drawing out her spare tire for all to see. She snorted angrily and they laughed. When he let go the flab jiggled of its own accord for a few seconds before settling down.

"Good on ya, mate," said the younger one as he got into the pick-up ready to roll.

Bill put his signature on the contact to acknowledge delivery and the older deliveryman got into the pick-up and took off with the younger one, raising a second cloud of dust.

Betty started coughing loudly, uncontrollably and so Bill took the gag out with his fingers by first unfastening the strap and then poking around the sides of her mouth. Then he slapped her hard on the back. She responded by spluttered some, got teary-eyed, sniffled, shook her arms and legs and almost fell over but somehow didn't. For a fat bitch she could hold her balance real well.

"I guess I'm stuck with you," Bill told Betty. In reality he couldn't have been happier. To him she was a prize, a package worth having, even if only for a weekend. She nodded her understanding and he shoved the ball gag back into her mouth and somehow got it further in than the older deliveryman. She winced as he did so but tried not to move.

"Good girl," he said, patting her on the rump when he was done. She nodded her understanding and he pushed and pulled her slowly into his living room and closed and locked the door behind him.

There Betty enjoyed the coolness of not being under the direct rays of the sun. It was a minor thing but not to her at that moment in time. It was something to be cherished or, at least, that was what one half of her believed. As surprised as the deliverymen were to find her home in the dull suburb where she normally lived so ordinary she had similar reactions, always, upon seeing his lounge room. The walls were lacquered wood and gave off a nice, rich masculine woodsy smell and feel. There were cushy brown chairs and a deep comfortable sofa, there were rather ordinary framed outback photos on the walls and pot plants on stands strategically placed seemingly to add a sense of serenity to the scene. The old fire place and the heavy wooden coffee table were also nice touches.

He made her stand in front of his sofa as he got a pair of scissors out of his kitchen and also his new camera. He was so glad she'd be the one he'd first try it out on though the pictures, strictly speaking, wouldn't be for him though he did sometimes keep choice copies for himself.

When he got back he took a look at her, repositioned her so he could see her face clearly, told her to look at the camera rather than down so he caught the look in her eyes and snapped away merrily. He snapped a few close-ups of her face, concentrating on where the mascara ran making her look a little like she's wearing a black mask, on her lips frothing a little around the gag and her nose powdered pleasantly with dust. He'd concentrate more on the boobs later. He'd save them for later though her nipples were standing out nicely since he'd given her breasts a shaking though they may well have been standing out in anticipation.

He put the camera on his table and approached her with the scissors. He rubbed them against her nose, dispelling some of the dust and against her puffed up cheeks, first one cheek and then the other. She didn't make a sound, she didn't even plead with her eyes. In fact, she didn't mind what he was doing at all. The metal was cool against her skin and that was lovely. What's more, she knew he was only going to cut two holes in her dress and pull out her great, lumbering boobs for an airing. This he did and she found the resulting airing quite refreshing. What's more, they were wet with sweat and she imagined they were glistening for him magnificently, daring him to do his best…or was it his worst?

"So I have you until 4pm Sunday," Bill said to her as he picked up his camera. She nodded her head and he snapped a few photos. Then he removed the gag. It took him almost as long to get it out as it did to put it in and it was a bigger struggle this time for her to keep still while he did it but keep still she did. She was glad when it came free but wondered why he had done it. She flexed her jaws and sucked in air through her mouth as well as her nose. Despite the continuing aches it was bliss.

"You have given your consent freely?" he asked then smiled politely at her. "If you haven't, I suppose I could always untie you, provide you with a new dress and get out the radio for my own amusement."

Of course! she told herself. It was the same as last time and the time before only she'd let it slip her mind. She was being given her very last chance to bail out. Part of her screamed to take it, the other part, the part she was listening to, screamed no.

"Yes," she said softly, working her stressed jaws as she did so.

Bill then did what she expected him to do. He slapped her hard in the face, jolting her, almost knocking her down. It felt awful. Her cheek radiated angrily and a tear formed at the corner of her left eye near the developing slap mark.

"Yes, what?' he demanded.

"Yes, Master," she said meekly in a soft, trembling little-girl-lost voice. Oh, how he loved that voice. Fancy returning here for a third time! he told himself in wonder. He imagined there were women who would rather divorce than let that happen. He, in fact, had little doubt of it.

She was all of thirty-eight with two kids and a husband that doesn't fit into the picture but is there anyway. There were always men who don't fit a particular profile but are there anyway. She was a teacher of some sort. Her bio, which he'd once been sent to best understand how to treat her, naturally didn't have her real name or where she came from but it did list her interests. She was a good cook and a keen gardener. As for why she allowed herself to be a package, she'd written down that she'd almost always been picked on by guys and had gotten used to it.

Using scissors and bare hands, Bill ripped the rest of her dress apart. In doing so she was pulled this way and that with the tearing fabric but still managed to somehow keep her balance. She grunted and fought hard to keep on her feet and he could admire her for that. He dumped the rags that were once a dress on the lounge and took another photo or two. Now she was naked except fort the studded dog collar he'd given her during her last visit. He'd told her at the beginning of her last visit that if she made it through without complaint he'd have something for her. She didn't seem at all disappointed when he fastened it around her neck. It didn't seem as tight a fit as last time. Maybe she'd lost a little weight. Regardless he thought it was a nice touch to her otherwise naked body. He liked nice touches. Then he spied on her great belly the smudged but still readable words: "Birthday Present." He wondered what that meant. It wasn't his birthday. Of course someone may have gotten the date wrong but he didn't reckon that was the answer.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at the writing.

"What does it say, Master?" was her reply.

"Birthday present," he said. "But what does it mean?"

"I'm not telling," she said.

Bill grabbed her by one of her thick ears and savagely twisted twice.

"Not telling," he breathed in her face, twisting a third time for emphasis.

"Ouch! Yes! Yes! Not telling…Master!" she cried.

He took her other ear and also twisted that hard three times then he stepped back and inspected her with his eyes.

"Do you think you're in any position to say you're not telling?" he asked.

Betty thought about this for a few seconds. Her arms and legs were almost numb with pain from being stretched for so long but this had been planned and she was not going to go against it now. It would be like quitting and she was no quitter. "Yes, Master," she finally said. She waited for a blow across the shops or for some more ear-twisting but nothing came. Grinning he said: "So you want me to get it out of you?"

She was silent for a moment then boldly looked into his eyes and said: "If it is your wish, Master. I have my instructions from the one who sent me. I am not to reveal the answer to you. I will attempt to keep that pledge. You may do what you will."

"How cruel of whoever sent you," Bill said. "I take it you won't give me his name?"

"No, Master," she said.

"Very well," said Bill. "We have some weekend ahead of us it would seem. But getting these things out of you will have to wait. You need cleaning up. You stink."

"Yes, Master."