Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Cyndi Gets Hers (C) 2002 B.  Devlin  

   Walter Goddard wanted Cyndi-Mae Jackson the first time he saw her in
Dixie's Diner, which was hardly surprising.  At just eighteen, she was
fresh as a daisy, her blonde-hair tied back in a pony tail, her face,
pretty as a china doll, with huge pansy-blue eyes and a soft pouty little
rosebud mouth.  All that, perched on the body of a sex goddess - long, long
slim legs, tight buns, a taut flat belly and an incredible pair of tits
that looked like they'd been added to the slim frame by a God with a taste
for porn - full, heavy, and pressing hard against the white uniform T-shirt
she wore as if the perky nipples were trying to drill an escape route
through the cotton.

    "I'm Cyndi, and I'll be your server today," she told him, "What can I
get you?"

    "Coffee, pie, and your number." It was a lame line, but it was out
before he could stop himself.   She laughed, as if she'd never heard it
before.  "You're new round here, aren't you?" she asked.   He'd nodded, and
told her that he was a lawyer, newly qualified.  He hadn't been able to
resist bragging a little, about how he'd been headhunted, the wonderful
deal Maybury and Sloane had offered him to hire him.  He'd been too intent
on the glorious boobs to see the cash-register ching in her eyes.

    She'd brought him the coffee and the pie, and told him that she didn't
have a phone, but she got off work at ten, and that he could walk her home
if he liked.

    "Home" had turned out to be a trailer park on the edge of town, and
she'd blushed prettily and explained that her daddy had run out on her
mamma when she was tiny - mamma did all she could, but this was the best
she could afford.

    Walter had been understanding and a little elated - after all, what he
wanted more than anything was to get inside this little girl's panties, and
he had the vague feeling that might be easier when she was from a
neighborhood like this than if she'd been from one of the leafy
middle-class suburbs.   He was right.  It was only a couple of days later
that he laid her on the grass in a private clearing in the woods, although
as he did, he was stunned to hear her say, "Be gentle with me, Walter, I've
never..."

    He'd held her close for a moment or two, and asked if she was sure. 
She'd nodded, blushing and whispered, "I feel so hot ...  I've never felt
like this....  I want you to be THE ONE...."

    Walter had never, either - never fucked a virgin, that is -- so it
didn't occur to him that she might be lying.  She was certainly very tight
around his cock as it eased it into her, and why should he have imagined
that might be muscle control?  To be sure, "Oh, that hurts...  gently
darling," had soon changed to "oh my, that's nice..." and the tightness had
eased within the first few thrusts, but when she arched against him and dug
her fingers into his shoulders, crying "Oh God, I never imagined it could
feel this good!  Oh, Walter!" the only thought that had run through his
mind was that he must be one hell of a lover.  He'd felt like a king when
that supposedly virgin cunt rippled along him in climax, and he'd come
harder and faster than ever before.

    A little later, when he looked down into her eyes, they seemed to be
flooded with tears, and she whispered, "I'm so glad you were my first,
baby, I was so scared it would be awful but..." a blush suffused her face,
"...  it was wonderful.  Can we do it again, please?" And her voice was so
innocent and childlike, her body so lush and beautiful that he tumbled into
love with her, right there and then, though marriage had never been on his
mind. 

   But Cyndi knew what she wanted, was a consummate actress, and her
campaign was carried out with a military precision.  That Sunday, they
fucked and fucked and fucked, until the sun went down, leaving him gasping
and addicted, but after that, she said they would have to meet at home in
the afternoon - the woods took too long to get to, and she'd be missed. 
So, he'd come to the trailer, and there, they would leave the TV playing
loudly, while she straddled him in her narrow bed, and rocked her cunt on
his cock almost imperceptibly - so that the trailer didn't move and give
them away, she said.  It was languid sex, almost tantric, and it had, she
said, to be completely silent.  He found it unbelievably erotic, and his
climaxes almost blew his head off . 

   One afternoon, barely a fortnight after that first wild afternoon's
coupling, she was rocking, and he was happily sucking on one of those
wonderful breasts, when she stopped.  He made a childish sound of protest
around the nipple, but she seemed not to hear him, as she wistfully said "I
wish we could really let go" (Rock.  Stop) "I wish we had somewhere where I
could be as fast and as noisy as I wanted" (Rock.Stop)  

   "There's always my place," he told her, lifting his hips and trying to
move against her, to get the lost friction and rhythm going again. 

   "I couldn't', she said, "if people saw me coming to your apartment,
they'd know I was fucking you.  Coming from a trailer park, they expect
that.  (Rock.Stop) They'd call me a whore, say I was just like all the
other trailer trash." He was barely listening, but he felt hot tears
falling on his chest.  "I just want us to be like other couples," she
whimpered.   

   Guilt and frustration gripped him, and he knew that to get rid of both
feelings, he'd have to make her happy again.  Once she was happy, she'd get
her mind back on the issue in hand and give his cock the release it was
crying out for. 

   "Move in." [[Do anything, but let me come, I have to come]] 

   "Mamma would never let me, not unless I was married." (Rock.Rock.Stop)
"Oh Walter, I can't go on like this.  I want you so badly, but this (rock)
is torture (rock) when I want to give you EVERYTHING, and show you how much
I love you.  (Rock.Stop)" 

   "Then marry me." [[but please, please don't stop again - I'm going to
die if you stop again before I've shot my load.]] 

   She cried "Oh WALTER!  (Rock) Darling!  (Rock) "Oh baby!  You've made me
so happy!  Yes!" (Rock, rock, rock, ROCK-ROCK-ROCK) "Yes, yes, YEEEES!"
Both silence and discretion were forgotten in her success.   

   "CHRIST!" he yelled as his orgasm wracked him, and the whole park must
have heard, but she told him it didn't matter, not now they were engaged,
and an hour later, they were telling her mamma, (a big, hard-looking woman
who he'd kept at arms length ever since by the monthly application of a
large check) how they were going to be married, as soon as possible.  He
stayed with her that night, and every night until the wedding and was
rewarded for his commitment with night after night of sexual athletics that
left him sated, exhausted and far too focused on his body to think about
what he'd done once, let alone think twice. 

   And so, three weeks later, they were married.  That was a little more
than two years ago. 

   At first, everything was great.  The sex was terrific, and if Cyndi was
a poor housekeeper, all he had to do was keep on the maid.  She couldn't
cook either, but there were plenty of stores selling ready-made food, and
restaurants by the dozen, so they didn't go hungry. 

   Yes, she opened accounts at all the best department stores, and she made
a large hole in his salary buying clothes, but he told himself that she'd
never owned pretty things and deserved them.  For the first couple of
months, he smiled indulgently while she went mad, buying, buying and buying
some more. 

   Of course, that had to stop, eventually - even a lawyer's salary isn't
limitless, after all.  The first sour note was struck when he questioned
whether she REALLY needed another pair of shoes to add to the forty in her
closet. 

   She called him mean, accused him of not loving her.  She refused sex,
wouldn't let him touch her, kiss her, even put his arms around her until he
coaxed her with promises never to deny her what she wanted. 

   Soon, he found himself working longer hours to cover her costs, and when
he got home she would pester him to take her out to show off her purchases.
Refusal would inevitably result in cessation of marital rights, acceptance
would earn him a climax, but no more - any attempt to spice up their
love-life - even a deferential request for a blow-job -- would be met with
a blank "I'm your wife, not your whore". 

   There was only one game she like to play.  Cyndi had a thing for being
tied up and "raped" She liked to be fastened, and have the clothes torn off
her - she said it made her hot to feel helpless and innocent, to be unable
to stop him doing anything to her that he wanted.  It wasn't Walter's
preferred kink, since it left her almost immobile, and the clothes he was
ruining had usually been bought for the occasion, expensively; however, it
made a change, and it meant that once in a while he could "force" her to
suck his cock.  So, every so often, they'd play games where he would tie
her, strip her, and tease her almost to orgasm with a vibrator, while she
pretended to be first reluctant, then willing, then eager, begging him in
the end to fuck her.   

   He wondered how he'd only just noticed how familiar that performance
was.  Although he wasn't happy, he hadn't ever doubted her until a new
paralegal had started work for the firm, six months after the wedding.  Joe
Evans was a local boy, fat and genial, and Walter had got along with him
immediately.  He brought him home for a beer one evening, and introduced
him to Cyndi, only to find that they knew each other.  He wasn't much
surprised at that, but he WAS surprised at Cyndi's antagonism towards Joe. 


   "I just don't like him," she said flatly, when Joe left that evening, "I
never have.  He's so fat and GROSS.  Don't bring him again Walter." 

   The following day, Walter overheard Joe say to one of the typists, "I
see Cyndi-Mae Jackson went an' caught her rich boy in the end.  You have to
give her credit, after Albert Cross an' Rick Yardley, anyone else would
have given up trying.  A pity Walter fell for it, though, he's a nice
guy."  Walter had left, silently, but that evening, over a beer, he'd
demanded an explanation from the mortified Joe.  The fat man had shrugged. 


   "Oh, Jeezus, I'm sorry Walter, I didn' mean you to hear that.  It was
just a buncha sour grapes, I guess.  I wanted to date Cyndi-Mae, way back
when, but she turned me down flat - she always had her eyes on something
better than me.  I don't blame her for being ambitious - for saving herself
for guys rich   enough to give her what she wanted - she's one sexy little
girl, and deserves what she can get."   "What do you mean, 'guys'?  Cyndi
was a virgin when we met." 

   "Oh?" the tone sounded cynical, but seeing Walter's face darken, Joe
shrugged again.  "Oh right, sure, well you'd be the one who knew.  She
dated a couple of the wealthier guys in town for a long while, an' I guess
I just kind of assumed that things went further than just datin'.  There
was some serious talk of marriage with Rick Yardley, but that don't mean a
thing, I guess." He wasn't convincing, but Walter let himself be convinced
anyway. 

   When he asked Cyndi, her lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes
and slipped down her cheeks.  "I loved Ricky," she said, plaintively, "but
a girl from a trailer park wasn't good enough for him to marry, so I left
him." Her pansy-blue eyes looked meltingly up at him.  "he wanted me, but I
wouldn't, not without a promise - I was always able to say no, till I met
you, Walter.  Nobody ever made me feel like you do.  I love you so much." 

   "I love you too," he told her.  "But I want to know more about you -
tell me about Rick and about Albert..." 

   She looked into his face, and said "I don't want to talk about them, I
want to talk about us.  You're out so much, I barely see you.  I get so
lonely here alone, Walter, and the other wives look down on me..." 

   "What do you wan't me to do, sweetheart?  I don't want you to be
unhappy." 

   "I want you to give me a baby Walter,.  I want us to start a family." 

   His heart thumped.  Nothing she said could have delighted him more, or
more surely driven any and all questions from his mind.  He'd mentioned the
idea before, but she had seemed at best, lukewarm. 

    "Really?" he asked, "you really want a baby?" 

   She nodded.   

   "Why not start trying, right now?" he said. 

   "Why not?" she blushed, and then said, almost shyly, "you won't need
your condoms tonight." 

   It was the first time that Walter had ever fucked naked, and the feeling
was beyond anything he'd imagined.  Her juices were scalding hot, her
muscles tight on him, and as he felt his cum explode unhampered from his
cock, he felt like the king of the world.  Everything seemed right again.
His beautiful wife, who he loved more than anything, wanted a family, just
the way he did.  The next day, he bought her home a diamond necklace. 

   "We're trying for a baby," he told everyone. 

   The next few months seemed like heaven to him, but six months later,
Cyndi was still not pregnant.  A test showed everything working as it
should, but her belly stayed stubbornly flat.  Every month, she seemed
inconsolable.  He tried to cheer her up with gifts, ever more extravagant,
but nothing seemed to work.  He increased the credit limit on the expense
accounts, and finally enlisted the aid of his colleagues' wives explaining
the situation, telling them that Cyndi badly needed friends right now. 
He'd have done anything to end her unhappiness.   

   He had to do some fast talking to get the women to accept the girl from
the trailer park, but he managed it, and soon Cyndi was enjoying days at
the golf-club, and lunches with the town's elite, driving around in the
little BMW he bought her.  It seemed to cheer her, so he encouraged it.   
They stopped talking about the baby so much, and began to play their
bondage games again, more and more often.  He hoped with the pressure off,
she would prove more fertile, and in the meantime they had a great
sex-life. Still she didn't get pregnant. 

   Her social life blossomed, and often she didn't get home till he was in
bed.  Then, she was tired and fell straight to sleep.  It seemed they only
made love if he begged, and only then if she was tied and teased - Walter
began to wonder cynically if the fantasy appealed to her most because that
tied up she didn't actually have to do anything more than lie with her legs
and mouth open, and let him all the work.  Because she was happy, spending
his money and her time, he bit back his complaints, but she seemed to have
forgotten about the baby altogether.    Now, it was Walter who was
desperate for a baby, to keep her at home, to cap her spending and to bring
them back together and revive their love. 

   "Should you see the doctor again?" he asked tentatively, as he undid the
scarves that bound her to the bed and cuddled up to her, on one of the rare
occasions she permitted him to fuck her. 

   "There's nothing wrong with me!" she snapped.  "If you're so concerned,
YOU see the doctor."  He would have done.  He made the appointment.  Then,
he'd opened that letter addressed to "Mrs Walter Goddard", by accident, his
eyes failing to register the "Mrs." 

   It was headed with the name of a Health Center he'd never heard of, on
the other side of town, near her old home.  It reminded her that her five
yearly check of her IUD was due. 

   Her IUD?  A mistake was his first thought, but the letter was addressed
"Dear Cyndi-Mae" He was forced to believe it.  His wife was practicing
birth control, while telling him she was trying to get pregnant.  What's
more, she'd been practicing birth control three years before they met, and
however innocent he might be, he knew that nobody implanted IUDs in
virgins. He had never felt so betrayed in his life.  Everything he'd
believed about her was a lie. 

   It only took him four hours to piece together the extent of her deceit.
He started by phoning the two men Joe had mentioned.  Albert Cross turned
out to be a Harvard boy, and the son of a banker, and her was only too
happy to tell him how he'd screwed Cyndi at her fifteenth birthday party,
and every day throughout the summer vacation, and how later she had come to
him, and told him she was pregnant, and that he must marry her.  "I
couldn't do that," he said, "my mother would have had a heart attack, but I
sold my car, and gave her five thousand to pay for the abortion.  I told my
parents I crashed it."  

   "She had an abortion?" 

   "She said so," Albert replied, "but no clinic in town has a record of
it. Frankly, I don't care, one way or another.  It was worth the cash to be
rid of her." 

   Rick Yardley, was a self-made, foul-mouthed businessman, all of forty
and it seemed, he had met Cyndi when she came with the caterers to serve
drinks at a big party he was throwing.  He'd seduced her then and there,
laying her on the top of the grand piano in the ballroom.  "She told me she
was a virgin, too, pal, and I fell for it, just like you did, right up to
the point I met Bert Cross' father at the gym.  Don't feel bad at being
suckered, she can act like a pro.  And screw like one, too." He'd had
bought an apartment, he said, five minutes from his office, and given the
sixteen-year-old a key, and a large allowance, so that he could call in for
a blow-job on his way to work and pop over at lunchtime to give his cock a
work-out, before spending the evening "Fucking like a bunny."  

   "She was the lay I ever had," he told Walter, "her cunt muscles could
have milked a dairy herd dry, and her ass was the sweetest, tightest fit,
but she wanted more than I was prepared to give - clothes, jewellery, and
even marriage - as if I'd tack my name onto a trailer-trash slut like
that." 

   A call to Joe confirmed all he'd been told, and filled in some extra
details.  Cyndi-Mae (as it seemed everyone but Walter called her) had only
two criteria for choosing where to distribute her favours - the recipient
must be rich, and single.  Everyone who lived on her side of the tracks
knew it, but she never fished in her home waters.  Besides Albert and Rick,
she'd played the ruined virgin for a number of businessmen passing through
town, and if she hadn't netted a husband out of it, before Walter got
landed, she'd reeled in a fair amount of money.  Joe had known her all his
life, and had once believed her to be "just misunderstood".  His tone was
rueful, as he added "And, of course, I got a hard-on every time I looked at
her.  Still do, to be honest." He'd proposed to her, after Albert, but she
wasted no kindness in refusing him.  "You couldn't afford me in a million
years, lardass," were her words, apparently. 

   Walter felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.  He'd been taken for a
sucker all along the line, and she'd bled him worse than either of the
others - and given him less.  Her talk of a baby had been a smokescreen
first, and a stick to beat him with later.  She must despise him,
completely, he thought, and be sure he'd never find out. 

   When she got home, he'd beat her, then fuck her, then beat her again,
till she screamed for mercy...  but no.  He found that he didn't want to
fuck her.  He didn't even want to beat her.  He never wanted to touch her
again.  All he wanted was revenge.   

   He planned carefully.  When she returned that night, he smiled, and said
he'd made his doctors appointment.  She nodded, showing no interest, until
he said, "I'm feeling really hopeful, sweetheart.  I haven't felt this good
in months.  Why don't we do something -extravagant -- tomorrow?"  

   "Extravagant?" her eyes lit. 

   "I thought that you could go out and treat yourself - buy something
really special, beautiful, but something that you only want to wear once." 


    He can see interest and excitement as she nodded, eagerly. 

   "Everything - underwear, dress, shoes, jewellery.  Something fit for a
movie star.  Because that's what I'm going to make you." 

   "You're going to make me a movie star?  I don't understand."  

   "I'm going to do some buying of my own - a video camera.  I'll book the
best room at the Plaza, and set everything up.  Then we can eat in the
restaurant, so you can show off your new outfit, and then go upstairs
and....play...  for the camera.  How does that sound?" 

    She gave a little giggle.  "Will we be making a porno, Walter?" 

   He forced a grin to his face.  "I hope so, sweetheart - if you want
to." 

   "I sounds a lovely idea - but very expensive.  You don't usually like
spending that much money." 

   "Hey, a movie needs a budget.  It'll be an experience for us to remember
forever, and we'll have the tapes to remind up." 

   She came around to kiss him, but he put up a hand, hiding his revulsion.
"Save it all for tomorrow, Cyndi.  Lets make it ...unique." 

   As she laughed delightedly, he wondered if he was that good an actor, or
if she was just blinded by the idea of spending money without restraint. 
Whichever, she obviously had no suspicions, even when he said he had to
work, and locked himself in his office for the rest of the night, sleeping
on the couch there.   

   The following morning, he made three calls. 

   The first booked a table, and the honeymoon suite at the Plaza.  He
booked the suite until Monday.  The second hired two video cameras, lights,
twenty four-hour tapes, and number of little extras.  The last was to Joe.
This one was very long, and very detailed.  Joe laughed for several minutes
after he hung up. 

   At seven, he checked that the cameras were in place - one next to the
door, and one six feet from the foot of the bed, and at eight he was
waiting, in the restaurant when Cyndi joined him. 

   She'd taken his instructions to heart, and she was breathtaking.  Every
male eye was fixed on her as she walked across the room behind the waiter.
Her blonde hair was piled on her head in an elegant roll, and diamonds
sparked at her ears and on her wrists.  She wore a sleeveless dress of
scarlet, with a high neck.  The bodice was tight, moulding like a second
skin to the firm swell of her breasts, and between them, a triangular
cut-out revealed wide expanse of golden-tanned cleavage.  From the waist,
the skirt fell in flowing, diaphanous wave to mid calf, and on her feet,
she wore red sandals whose spike heels must have been five inches high. 
Walter estimated coldly that she was probably wearing a thousand dollars in
cloth, and twice that, at least, in jewellery.  He could feel the looks of
envy directed at him as she joined him.   

   He had already ordered the food, and it arrived, with chilled champagne,
within minutes.  She gave a delighted giggle as oysters were followed with
chicken served with truffles and asparagus, and then a bowl brimming with
raspberries and strawberries, smothered in cream.  "One aphrodisiac after
another," she commented. 

   "Of course," he replied, "I wouldn't want to take chances tonight." 

   Coffee came with chocolates of course, and he drained his quickly,
letting his eagerness show.  "Shall we go?" he asked. 

   "Oh yes," she said, her voice breathy.  She was obviously riding the
high of her life, and he thought she would have run to the elevator, if
those heels had let her. 

   She gasped as he opened the door to the honeymoon suite and she saw the
lights ringing the bed, which was draped in black satin..  "My God," she
said, you've really gone to town!" 

   "I don't want to miss anything, tonight," he replied as he followed her
toward the bedroom, pushing the door to, behind him, but not closing it. 
He noticed, with satisfaction that the deep pile of the carpet deadened any
sound of footsteps - perfect.  "not a single expression, not a single
sound."  He switched on the cameras and the tape began to whirr. 

   "So, sweetheart," he asked her, turning the camera on her face, "are you
ready to make your film debut?  Are you ready to play?" 

    "So ready..." she answered.  "Oh, baby, I can hardly wait." Her lips
were parted, and desire was written all over her face. 

   "Oh Cyndi-Mae," he thought, "you have no idea what you're saying." And
he grinned at her.  Her scream when he caught her wrist was clearly fake,
but that was fine.  Just now, he wanted it to be clear this was all a game.
He pushed her toward the bed, into shot of the camera, making sure to stay
out of its line himself, apart from his hands. 

   'Who are you?  What are you doing?" she asked, just as she always did,
and he replied, just as always, as he looped a red silk scarf around her
wrists, and pulled it tight,  

   "You'll find out." 

   They had a script that went along with this game, with minor variations,
and he planned to stick with it for as long as possible.  He wanted his
revenge, when it came, to be shocking, and complete.  But there was one
difference that was essential.  For the first time ever, he blindfolded
her, tying a strip of black velvet tightly across her eyes.

   "W..  why?" she stuttered.   

    "I've got lots of surprises for you," he told her grimly, "I wouldn't
want to spoil them" he kept his voice low, so that the words could be
heard, but his accent was indistinct. 

   She giggled, then apologised, crying out enthusiastically when he pushed
her roughly, so she fell face down onto the bed.  Her struggles seemed more
exaggerated and less effective than he'd ever known them, as she played to
the camera, and soon she was tied, tightly, hand and foot to the midnight
covered bed, a study in red and gold on black.  The scarves at her wrists
were fixed to the bed-head, but the ones at her ankles were looped around
the legs of the bed, because he'd asked to have the foot removed, thus
ensuring that her legs were pulled wide open. 

   He had kept low, as he worked, ensuring that the back of his dark head
and his hands and arms were the only thing that the camera caught.

    "You bastard!" she hammed, "Let me go!"

   Walter grinned, as he saw a bulky figure walk, with exaggerated care,
through the unlocked door, to stand silently beside him, so that his back
was framed at the edge of the shot.

    The grin widened, as Joe held up a pair of scissors, and stepped
forward to cut the red dress from Cyndi's body, while she lay, oblivious
that she and Walther were not alone.  As the ruined fabric fell apart,
Walter didn't feel a pang for the wasted money, not this time.

    She screeched, in simulated terror, as Joe stood back and looked
admiringly at the underwear she'd bought, a red, strapless corset, laced up
the front from top to bottom, and with a matching g-string.  Walter almost
laughed out loud at Joe's low whistle of appreciation but he put a finger
to his lips and said,

    "Oh yes, that's lovely." He still spoke quietly, because he knew that
the register of Joe's voice was almost identical to his.  Only the
hog-calling accent identified Joe, and if he, Walter, kept his voice quiet,
nobody watching the tape would realise that there were two different
voices.

    As Joe snipped the laces freeing her gorgeous tits, Cyndi wriggled, and
they bounced impressively, the rose areola the size of a silver dollar
around the long taut nipples which pointed to the ceiling.  He marvelled at
Joe's control in remaining quiet - few men would be able to achieve it when
faced with a pair like that for the first time, especially when they were
jiggling like they had a life of their own, and the tips were sitting up
and begging to be sucked.

    Walter saw the dark stain spreading on the crotch of the g-string, and
noted, ironically, that either the unfamiliar surroundings or the idea of
the camera on her was stimulating his wife much more than normal, even as
it robbed her of her usual acting skill.  Both effects were unanticipated
bonuses - however she reacted to what was to come, the evident insincerity
of her protests now would make her look, on film, like an entirely knowing
and willing participant.

    "No," she whispered as Joe placed the scissors on the string of the
panties, in a voice that said "yes."  Two more snips and she was naked, and
there was no question about the fact that she was a natural blonde.  The
tidy strip of golden curls that framed the slick, pouty lips of her cunt
was just a shade or two darker than her tan.

    "Are you going to rape me, you animal?" she declaimed, dramatically.

    "Only if you beg me," Walter whispered with the script.

    "You revolt me!" But the dribble of juice that slipped from her pussy
and dripped onto the sheets made a liar of her.

    Joe walked out of shot, back to Walter, and for a full minute, the men
let the camera feast on the naked body, writhing against its bonds, on the
glistening, open cunt and the breasts bobbing and swaying.  Then with a
smile, Walter handed Joe a big, black plastic vibrator, and the fat man
turned it on as he walked back in front of the camera.

    "Oh God, oh no, please don't!" Cyndi was getting into her stride now,
and she sounded more realistic, but that hardly mattered - the game was
established.  She jerked as Joe touched the tip of the dildo to her labia
and the buzz made them tremble.

    She whimpered as he ran it up and down her wet slit, slowly turning it
to coat the tip with the juices that bubbled from her, then lifted it from
her lower lips to her upper ones, leaving a trail of cunt juice on her
mouth.

    Cyndi simulated horror, turning her head this way and that, as if to
get away from the buzzing at her mouth, but Walter knew that this was one
of her favourite parts, that she wouldn't be able to resist licking those
defiled lips.  He moved to the camera beside him and touched the zoom so
that the pink tongue filled the shot when it inevitably slid from her mouth
to savour her taste.

    Joe had already replaced the vibrator at Cyndi's cunt and now he was
sliding the first inch in and out of her, carefully following the
instructions that Walter had given him earlier.

    "Oh God," she moaned, "oh please God, no, stop, please, it's...."

    Joe slid the black plastic further in ...

    "It's ..."

    And further..

   "It's Gooooooood...." She gasped, just as the script demanded

   And then he slid it out again, until just the tip was inside her buzzing
insistently.  He rested it on the bed, so that it stayed there, teasing
without satisfying, and walked to kneel at her left, dropping his head to
slide his tongue over and around one perfect, rock-hard nipple.

    Walter knew he should feel jealousy, or excitement, or something,
watching another man take enjoy his wife, but all he felt was satisfaction
that she hadn't yet realised the substitution and anticipation of the
moment when she finally did.  If his plan worked, it would be exquisite.

    Joe was suckling in earnest now, tongue and teeth both working the
breast, the tips of his fingers running up and down the inside of Cyndi's
long, lean thighs, pausing, now and then to twist the buzzing column of
plastic.

    She was arching, from the bed, first lifting her back, as if to push
more of her breast into the sucking mouth, then her hips, as she clenched
the tight muscles of her cunt around the dildo.  And she was moaning and
babbling...

    "Oh please...  don't ...  so good ...  you filthy bastard...  I hate
you...  I shouldn't feel so good...  no...  I don't want to feel so good...
dirty...  I feel dirty...  but good ...  I don't want...  I want...  oh GOD
so good...  oh great God in heaven...  I feel like...  a whore...  you've
made me a whore..."

   She started to buck her hips, and impassively Walter noticed that as she
did so, she held the vibrator in a grip of steel, and he waited for the
next scene in the script to unfold.  He knew she was on the edge of climax,
and that she would stay there, for as long as the dildo buzzed not quite
far enough inside her.  The cameras whirred, fixed on her lustful
movements, as her moaning words became more frantic and needy.

    "I need to come...  oh God, this is torture ...  You asshole, if you
are going to make me your whore, at least let me come...  please, oh please
I need ...  I must...  I need...  god...  that feels so good ...  I
need...you're killing me!  Please, oh god please..."

    This might be the moment that she realised the deceit, unless Joe could
manage it right.  It was too early for full effect, but they had to take
the risk.  Walter couldn't speak the line, without moving into shot.

    Joe lifted his head from Cyndi's breast and hissed "What do you need,
whore?"

    Both men held their breath, but either he managed to sound like Walter
or she was too distracted by the fire in her body to hear anything but the
pounding of her own heart.

    "I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME!  I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME!" she screamed the
words like an insult.  Then she began to beg, just as she had for Walter
dozens of times before, never dreaming when she said, "Please, I beg you,
whoever you are, I need to be fucked, if I don't come soon, I'll die..."
she really was begging a "whoever."

    "Please, I'll do anything you ask, if you'll just fuck me, and make me
come!"

    Joe stood and moved to the end of the bed.  Deliberately he stripped
off his T-shirt, unzipped his jeans, and stood naked in all his beefy
glory.

    Robbed of sight, she heard the sound of the zipper, and gasped when he
slid the vibrator out and tossed it to thud on the floor ..."Yes, oh
please, fill me with your cock, make me come, fuck me now."  And so the
moment came, perfect.  Joe knelt on the bed, and placed his thick prick at
her opening, and while he drove it forward with all his 300lb bulk behind
it, he said clearly, all attempt at disguise gone,

   "Why Cyndi-Mae Jackson, I'd be delighted - I can't think of a single
thing I'd rather do." And he pulled the blindfold from her eyes.

    Her body was too prepared not to orgasm after hovering on the edge for
so long and she screamed in simultaneous release and betrayal as her cunt
was filled with a cock at least twice the thickness of her husband's, and
half as long again "YEEEES!  NO!  Joe?  Oh FUCK!  Oh NO!  God this can't be
happening, no...  oh god, oh dear god I'm coming, I'm coming, oh no, oh
great GOD IN HEAVEN!"

    As he fucked her, Joe talked to Cyndi, covering the sound of her
repeated whisper of "no," with a crooning monologue, punctuated by brutal
thrusts into her spasming cunt.  "Oh darlin'....  that is the warmest
welcome ...  I ever had!  Your cunt...is so hot...  so sweet...  so damn
tight...  oh darlin'...  what's that, ...  don't...  stop?  Oh sugar, ...
don't you worry yourself...  about ...  that...  I ain't ...stoppin' any
time ...  real ...  soon.  Angel, your Joe's gonna make you come...  over
...  and ...  over ...  and over...  till you think you've died and gone to
heaven."

    And he did.  For fifteen minutes, Joe fucked Cyndi, pushing her primed
and responsive body to peak after peak, while her words faded to animal
sounds - cries of protest and pleasure combined.  And Walter filmed it all.

    Walter filmed every plunge of the fat paralegal's ass as he hammered
himself deep into Cyndi, his hands squeezing and fondling the perfect
breasts.  He zoomed to the spreading puddle of her climax beneath her
buttocks, then to her face -- head was thrown back, her mouth wide, the
picture of lust, and though she was crying, the tears pouring down her
cheeks could easily have been tears of ecstasy.

    Finally, Joe couldn't hold back any more.  His flabby buttocks
clenched, and he drove forward one final time, emptying his balls into the
cunt that sheathed him with a cry of "Sheeeeeiit!  Yes!" and collapsing on
top of the sobbing Cyndi, with the line, written specially for him by
Walter, "Cindy-Mae, honey, I've been fucked by whores in every city in the
country, and not one of them gave me a ride like that one.  If I'd known
how hot a little rough treatment got you, I'd have done this when we were
just kids.  Think of all the time and fine lovin' we've wasted!"

    "You disgusting fat bastard," she spat at him, "I would never
have...you know I didn't know..."  "Baby, what I know is that I've just
made you come, screaming, at least eight or nine times, just like you
begged me to so sweetly.  I think I deserve a little affectionate thanks."
And he brought hismouth down on hers, cutting off any response she might
make.

    Then Walter turned the camera off, and said "That's a wrap, folks.  "

    Joe broke the kiss, and Cyndi, still pinned under him, turned her
tearstained face and looked at Walter.

    "Why?" she sniffled.

    He ignored her.

    "I hope she was all you expected," he said to Joe.  "I always found her
a damn good fuck myself, and both Rick Yardley and Albert Cross had nothing
praise for her skills.  Rick tells me her ass is as fine as her cunt,
though I can't say she ever let me sample that particular pleasure."

    He saw comprehension begin to dawn, and horror spread across his wife's
face.

    "Wee-eell," Joe drawled from where his head lay cushioned on Cyndi's
breasts, "I've got no complaints so far, though it's hard to judge a girls
performance on the basis of one fuck, however fine."

    Walter smiled at him, a tight hard smile.

    "True, true.  Well, she's all yours for the next couple of days.  The
room and the cameras are booked till Monday morning, so why not put her
through her paces?  Or if you get bored, invite some friends along, I'm
there's any number of men who've been itching to find out what a rich man's
whore does to make her worth her keep.  When you're done with her, you can
drop her back with her mamma, or at the station, or wherever just as long
as it's not with me.  All I want is the tapes - but I do want those."
 "You'll get them buddy." Joe hauled himself off of Cyndi's body, he stood,
and walked over to shake Walter's hand, "It's the least I could  do."

    "Walter, please..." It was a whisper, anguished, from the bed.  At
last, Walter tuned to look at his wife.

    "Now, sweetheart, you be good for Joe.  You never know, if you're
REALLY good, he might keep you."

    "No!  Don't you leave me here like this, you asshole!  I'll sue you for
every penny you've got." her voice was full of venom, now.

    "Oh I don't think you will, my love.  Not when this room is booked in
Joe's name, and I've got this video tape of you telling Joe here how much
you are looking forward to your games, before writhing and arching for him,
and screaming at him to fuck you."

    "But it was you...  all you..."

    "Not from the moment that blindfold went on, sweetheart.  I should be
hurt that you can't tell your husband's touch after two years of marriage,
but frankly, it doesn't surprise me, and I'm quite relieved.  If I'd had to
touch you, I would have vomited.  Make the best of a bad situation, Cyndi.
You've had two good years, and I'll send your stuff on, wherever you ask
for it - all the jewellery, all the clothes.  "  He smiled at her, his eyes
flinty, "It's a good rate, even for the best of whores, and I don't think
you'll ever match it again - not once this tape and the others you'll make
over the next couple of days start popping up around the place.  I'm fairly
sure that at that point your price will drop rapidly.  "

   "You wouldn't!"

   "I would, and I will.  I don't like being taken for a sucker, Cyndi."

   He turned his back on her, started the cameras, and walked away.  At the
doorway he stopped, as he heard Joe say, in a soft, soft voice,

   "Showtime, Sweet Cyndi-Mae.  Now I know your poor little cunt must be
tuckered out from that pounding I gave it, so why don't you just open that
pouty mouth wide and we'll see how your lips, tongue and throat can handle
a fat boy's cock?"

   He couldn't resist turning, to see the horror in her eyes as she fully
realised that he really was going to leave her here.  Joe was kneeling by
the bed, his cock brushing her lips, hand stroking her face.    "Please
Joe..." she begged, her voice desperate.

    "Oh darlin'," he replied, and his tone was full of amused affection,
but uncompromising, "You don't need to beg me.  You know I want it as much
as I do, so let's not waste time."

   Her body shuddered in defeat, and the last thing Walter saw before he
left was twelve inches of thick cock start to slide into the mouth Cyndi
opened to receive it.   

    He left laughing, he could hardly wait to see the tapes.  They were
going to make him a fortune.  Revenge was sweet.