Copyright © 1996
Whitewash - 1 / 3 [M/F, MM/F, F/F, Semi N/C, Lampoon]
Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer.
This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives.
You've been warned.
I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.
Author's note:
Here's my entry into Celeste's Third Annual Writing Contest. Maybe it will help ameliorate those post-holiday blues, or at least assuage your hurt feelings because you received only mundane gifts. Personally, I become rather lethargic after all the dinners and indulging in all those non-erotic forms of hedonistic pleasure. Also, my belt becomes quite constrictive.
Over the years I've become rather adept at dodging the acerbic comments my friends and family make about my post-celebratory slothfulness - so much so that further barbs are both redundant and fatuous. Some have accused me of being impervious to their prolific insults, but such is not truly the case. I blithely accept all their criticisms as nothing but egregious blathering. There is some guile in this, since I would probably become quite irascible if I accepted their apocryphal slights credulously.
Well, enough of these dilatory ramblings. Here's to the incipient festivities.
Merry Christmas (or whatever your personal holiday is) to all.
Tom Bombadil
(PS: Too bad the intro doesn't count for word use!)
This is a rather unusual sendup of the usual blackmail/forced sexual slavery type stories. The narrator, who happens to be the woman who got shafted, definitely doesn't think most of what happened to her was funny. Or nice. Or sexy. Regular readers of the n/c type will probably get a chuckle, as will those who don't usually like this type of fare. Personally, I think it's hilarious. Then again, some of my friends think my sense of humour is positively bent. They may be right with this one ...
When I started writing this, I had some specific ideas in mind, including having this as close to a Deirdre style story as I could make it. Well, after the first couple of dozen lines, all that went out the window. Jane took over the storytelling completely. I felt more like a proofreader than a writer! She has a strange way of telling us what happened.
As usual in my stories, the people are what matter. I think I'd probably like Jane and John if I met them in real life. I've never met anyone quite like Dick, though I do know a few people who are similar to him in different ways.
Here are the words (all taken from one of those SAT study lists):
acerbic 1,1 adept 1,1 ameliorate 1 apocryphal 1 assuage 1,1 blithe 1,1 constrict 1 credulous 1 dilatory 1 egregious 1 fatuous 1 guile 1 hedonism 1,1 impervious 1,1 incipient 1,1 irascible 1 lethargy 1,1 mundane 1,1 prolific 1,1 redundant 1,1 (Added by me: Bastard 20 That should help my score!)
It all started just over two years ago. John and I had been married for almost a year and had bought ourselves a tiny little house all of our own. We could afford it, barely, because I was doing good in my job, and he was getting lots of construction work. He's a carpenter's apprentice. Most people would have considered our new home too small, too old, and too run down to be worth buying, but that just meant the price was within our reach. The owner really wanted to sell for some reason, so he used his influence down at the bank to make sure we got our loan. We were in love, we were in lust, and we were in heaven.
Then things started to go wrong. Little things. Certain contracts that I thought were cinched fell through, only to be saved by my boss, the head of the sales department. That cost me prestige, and more importantly, cost me commissions. Then John got laid off for a while, and when he got back to work, he got fewer hours than before.
We dipped into what little savings we had, until they were gone. We cut back on everything. Still, we started falling behind on our mortgage payments. Not much, but enough to make the bank manager nervous, and he let us know in no uncertain terms what that meant. He was pretty irascible at the best of times, and our constant excuses didn't help his temper, or his digestion, at all.
One thing I should tell you is that I was in charge of the expense accounts in our department. Why me, and not my boss, I didn't know, but that's how it was. And that's how I got into trouble.
It started small. I padded a bit on one call. That gave us enough to make ends meet that month. I worked harder to compensate, because my guilty conscience bothered me a lot. The next month, John's hours were cut back again, so I did it again, only a bit more. Nobody seemed to notice. The third month, my husband's hours were up, but a big sale I'd been working on, one worth enough commission to cover several mortgage payments, went poof. My boss, Richard Small, again managed to save the day (and collected *MY* commission!).
I had to pad my expenses again.
Two months later, after a fair bit more manipulation, Dick (my boss likes being called Dick, for some reason) called me into his office. He had a folder on his desk, and a very serious expression on his face. He made me nervous at the best of times, with his sinister, beady little dark brown eyes, his pencil moustache, and his leering mouth, but something in the set of his shoulders told me there was big trouble.
I sat down. He looked at me.
"Jane, I've been going over the expenses for the last six months. We've been over budget regularly, and someone in accounting wanted to know why. Well, I found out. These are all yours, I assume?"
He pushed the folder over to me, open, and I looked through it. There in front of me, in black and white, were all the forms and receipts I'd doctored, along with copies of the originals. Shaking with fear, I looked at him.
"This company has a policy of 100% prosecution for theft or fraud. You've committed both. I'm afraid your career is over."
He stared at me with such a dead-pan face that *he* frightened me as much as the thought of what was going to happen. Visions of court, of jail, of losing our house, of losing my husband, and of what John would do when he found out (he has a nasty temper) ran through my head. I couldn't help myself. I broke down and started crying, right then and there. After my tears slowed down, he asked me a question.
"Why?"
The look he used, much gentler than his normal and completely guileless, seemed to almost plead for understanding. For the first time, he genuinely looked like he cared. So I told him. About our house, our mortgage, the lost commissions, John's loss of hours, the scrimping and scraping, everything. When I'd finished, he became very thoughtful for a while, then looked at me again with a strange gleam in his eye.
"You've given me a lot to think about. For some reason, I feel a little sorry for you and your husband. You don't seem like the type that would normally do something like this, but I can see how such difficult circumstances could cause you to fall prey to temptation."
He paused again, seemingly lost in thought as he stared at me. I sat there, almost in shock. My entire life was about to be blown to pieces, and that man sat there, scratching at his chin, deciding whether or not to light the fuse. Finally he spoke again, and I hung onto every word like a lifeline.
"A decision like this isn't something to rush into. I'll need some time to sort through the implications. See me again tomorrow afternoon, at four thirty, here in my office. We'll talk again."
I nodded like a crazed woman, thanked him profusely, wiped the tears from my eyes, and practically ran out of there. I went home. That night, my husband noticed the strange mood I was in and asked me what was going on. I lied and said it was just some trouble with a difficult client. No way could I tell him the truth!
I slept very little that night, and most of the next day was a blur. At four thirty precisely I was in Dick's office, sitting in a guest chair, waiting for him to say something.
He stared at me for a while, setting off my nerves again. At that point I felt like anything he asked of me was within reason. I'd thought about how important my husband was to me all night, and thought about how he'd react to the news of what I'd done. Losing him seemed a certainty if I was prosecuted, and I loved him far too much for that to happen.
Dick spoke.
"You realize, of course, that if I cover for you, my ass is on the line as well. I'll be an accomplice, and could face jail just as easily as you. Then there's the matter of making good with the company. You'll need to do something to compensate for the losses. Don't you agree?"
I nodded my head, and agreed wholeheartedly with everything he said. It wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done. The evil leer that slowly worked it's way onto his face should have warned me, should have made me run. I was too credulous to realize what was happening.
"You agree to do whatever I tell you? From this point on?"
Fear and hope fought for dominance inside. Hope won. With more than a little hesitation, I agreed.
"Good", he said. "Stand up and turn around. I want to take a really good look at you."
I did it, even though it embarrassed the hell out of me. It wasn't as though I was ashamed of my body or anything, because I wasn't. If there was one thing I knew, it was that my body was terrific. At twenty three, I had looks to spare. Long, blonde, wavy hair, green eyes, and a trim, fit, very tight body. At 5'6", my 35C-22-34 frame filled out my clothes wonderfully, and even though my figure wasn't overly padded like some others were, it looked hot and ready for action. My husband said so all the time. So did the guys down at the construction site where he worked. So had my old boyfriend. So had the many guys who'd tried to date me when I was in university.
He still made me blush, undressing me with his eyes. He got out of his chair, walked over to his door, and locked it. My eyes must have betrayed my fear.
"I don't want us to be disturbed. Now take off your dress."
It was with a look of shocked disbelief that I stared at him. He just looked at me with a deadpan expression, expecting me to obey.
"Y-you can't be serious", I asked. He was. I said no, plainly, clearly, and rather more sharply than I had intended.
He simply shrugged his shoulders and said "I guess that makes my decision quite simple. It was nice working with you."
"No! Wait, please." I couldn't believe myself! I did it! Right there in his office, I took off my dress. That left me in bra, pantyhose, panties, and heels. Dick was only the third man to ever see me undressed (as an adult). He had me stand in the middle of the office while he circled around and examined me from all sides.
"Take of the pantyhose."
It seemed silly to balk now, since I'd already gone so far. I resigned myself to the fact that he'd end up getting me naked. After that, I didn't know what to expect. The sharp knot of fear in my stomach grew worse.
Slipping out of my heels, I did what he'd asked. He finally saw my bare legs, and realized that I didn't need to wear the things. My legs are naturally long and slender, and they were still decently well tanned from weekends spent sunning out in the back yard. He whistled, and then had me put the heels back on.
"Now the bra."
With tears falling down my face, I dropped my plain white bra on top of my discarded dress. Dick now saw that I didn't need to wear one of those either. My breasts rode high and firm. Tipped with long, pink nubbins that hardened to their half-inch lengths because of the cool air, they were perfect handfuls. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Now the last of it." His voice was husky, sounding a bit gruffer than usual. The look on his face was one I didn't recognize. It was scary. I didn't waste any time dropping my panties and stepping out of them.
He stared, he leered, he licked his lips. He was disgusting. I have to admit, though, that I was a little bit turned on by the situation. There I was, stark naked in the middle of his office, being stared at, having all of my most secret places ogled by a rather obscene man. The worst part was that I knew he could see everything between my legs, since I kept my bush closely trimmed and my lips shaved for the tiny bikini I loved to wear.
Again, he circled around me, slowly taking in every curve, every slope, every bit of exposed skin. His first touch came as a shock, and I jumped a bit. It was just a light brush of his fingertips against my bottom, but it burned like he'd slapped me. Trying to compose myself, I stared straight ahead. I didn't want him to know how much that touch had affected me.
Next, his fingers traced their way over my left hip and across my stomach. Then up my side to my neck, from one side to the other, then down, and before I realized it, he had my left breast in his hand. My breathing was getting a little shallow. His was getting a little heavy. Despite myself, I looked down. His slacks looked like they were about to explode.
He caught my brief glance, and leered even more.
I felt a little queasy.
His other hand touched my shoulder, ran down my arm, across my hip, then in between my legs. I couldn't suppress the shudder that caused. He grinned some more. I supposed that he thought I was getting heated up. I was, but only in embarrassment.
"Spread your legs." I moved them apart about six inches. "More" he said. I shifted them another few inches. He kept insisting on more until my feet were spread wider than my shoulders. His fingers finally had complete and free access to my most intimate places.
He pushed one finger into me, and I stepped away from him. That had hurt! Dick simply stepped up, put one hand on my ass, and pushed one finger of his other hand inside again. I moaned with the pain. His thumb played with my clit, causing more pain. He probably thought he was getting me aroused.
"Go bend over my desk, face down."
That order caught me by surprise, though I should have seen it coming.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" A sudden feeling of dread, and of helplessness, washed over me as I realized what his intentions were.
"I'm going to fuck you, Jane."
I shook my head in denial. "No, please. Not that. I've never had anyone but my husband. I'm a faithful wife. I can't do it!" Tears ran down my cheeks. It was true. I was a virgin on our wedding night. My previous boyfriend and I had reached third base a number of times, but I had never felt comfortable enough with him to go all the way. We broke up after the one night he became insistent and I walked home.
Dick shook his head sadly, picked up the folder from his desk, and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" The desperation in my voice must have been very apparent.
"Mr. Dougherty's office. It's obvious that you didn't mean what you said earlier. Think of it. By this time tomorrow, you'll be in jail."
My heart stopped for a second, fear gripping me like an iron fist.
"Wait! Please, no. Isn't there anything else? Some other way?"
He just stared, then started to open the door.
"All right. All right! I'll let you! Just close the door."
He closed and locked it again, then just stood there, waiting. After a moment or two, I took the hint, walked over to his desk, and lay across it, staring at him over my shoulder. He was staring at my ass, and at my exposed sex. With my legs spread apart, everything was on display.
"You'll let me what?"
I couldn't believe it. The man had far more control than I'd given him credit for. "I-I'll let you d-do what you said."
"What was it that I said? Say it."
God, it was the most humiliating few minutes of my life.
"I'll let you f-f-fuck me."
He sneered again. I was starting to develop a true hatred for that expression of his.
"Not good enough anymore. Now, you have to ask me. Ask really nice." He didn't say or else. He didn't have to. The threat of him still standing by the door was good enough.
"Please, Dick. Please fuck me." There, I'd said it.
His look got even more despicable. "You can do better than that!"
The bastard was making me beg to be raped! To be unfaithful to my husband! What choice did I have?
"Please Dick! Come fuck me now! I need your cock inside my hole. I need to feel your sperm shooting into my womb! There's a fire inside me and only you can put it out! I want you, now!" Those idiot videos my husband and I watch did come in handy. At least I knew what words to use. They had their desired effect. He finally walked over towards me, and as I faced forward again, I heard his zipper open up.
It was pretty tough, hunched over his desk, just waiting for the first painful thrusts from his cock. I was dry as a bone, and knew that no matter how rough or gentle he was, my pussy was going to feel pain.
First contact was an utter shock, and I gasped and jerked when I felt it. Something warm, wet, slippery, and very much alive was moving in between my lower lips. He was licking me! Nobody, not even my husband, had ever been allowed to do that. It was disgusting! My late mother would have turned over in her grave if she'd known! Despite my horror, the sensations were incredible. He obviously had done that before, and sooner that I would have believed, I was wet and panting hard, just aching for my release. The feelings were fantastic!
That's when he stood up and rammed himself inside, pushing until we were belly to bottom and he was as deep as he could get. I think I screamed, but I'm not sure. It hurt! He sawed in and out a dozen times or so, pulling on my breasts for leverage, grunted, then shivered and gasped. I could feel him pulsing, pushing in slightly with each spurt.
Any good feelings, anything that might have been like arousal, had been destroyed by his brutal penetration. I felt used, abused, and horribly debased. What made it ten times worse was that he made me turn around and lick his cock clean. Once I'd finished, he put his member away, then he put that damned folder away.
"From now on", he said, with that leer again, "I don't want to catch you wearing pantyhose. Ever. In or out of the office. Nylons are acceptable. You will also wear only skirts or dresses. You will also go buy some sexy panties and bras. I'll be inspecting you daily. This is all part of your punishment, and I expect full cooperation from you. Do you understand?"
After what he'd already done to me, that didn't seem like much of a problem. I nodded, then said yes.
"Good. Be in my office at a quarter past eight tomorrow morning for your first inspection."
I suddenly realized that he meant immediately.
"B-but Mr. Small. Dick. I don't h-have anything like that! I ..." I was trying to make him understand that I was a good girl. Other than my bikini, everything I owned was practical, businesslike. Plain white bras, plain cotton panties. My husband had asked a few times, but I had ignored his requests to buy something sexy. Besides which, we had no money and couldn't afford any.
I guess my look of despair was enough to telegraph my meaning. He pulled out his wallet and placed a hundred dollar bill on the desk beside me. "I expect you to be properly attired tomorrow morning."
He paused on his way out the door.
"Oh yes, one more thing. I prefer red or black, and lacy. See you tomorrow." With a final chuckle and sneer, he left.
Sobbing to myself, wondering how I'd managed to get into such a predicament, I used his bathroom to clean up before getting dressed. The thought of what he'd done made me throw up, so I had to rinse out my mouth too. Luckily I had some gum in my purse to take away the horrid taste.
That night, after I got home late, after I'd hidden my purchases away, John again asked me what was wrong. If I couldn't tell him the night before, then it was absolutely impossible for me to say anything that night. I could just imagine what his reaction would have been had I told him I'd been raped - that I'd begged to be raped!
John Smith, my loving husband, has a temper. It is deep, it is long lasting, and sometimes it is vicious. He rarely lets it show, and rarely lets it get the better of him, but I have seen it in action. One time at a frat party we attended, one of the college guys cornered me in a bedroom and started trying to force himself onto me. He probably figured that either I would blithely go along because I was horny, or because I didn't want to cause a scene. I screamed. John came in, found the guy pawing my breasts, saw my ripped blouse, and went wild.
Steve, the frat, was bigger than John by a good three inches and probably forty pounds of meat. My husband is no small guy, at six two and two hundred and ten pounds of lean, hard muscle, but Steve was the university's star defensive football player. He was big. John picked him up and threw him across the room, into the other wall. Literally. The wall ended up with a big hole in it, and Steve ended up on the floor, dazed. We left.
I didn't dare tell him what Dick had done to me.
The next morning, Friday morning, Richard was waiting for me in his office. When I got there, right on time, he had me lock the door.
"Strip" was the only thing he said. His evil leer seemed rather fatuous at that point, since I already knew he was a filthy scumbag.
I took off my blazer, then my blouse, revealing my new red lacy bra. He said nothing, and his expression never changed. I slipped off my shoes. Next came the skirt, the calf-length navy wool one that shouted business and matched my navy jacket. He never even blinked when I revealed my new red lace bikini panties. I had even bought the semi-transparent kind! When I paused, he motioned for me to continue, but told me to leave on the nylons. I was wearing navy blue thigh-highs with elastic tops.
My bra was next. Then my panties. There I was again, basically naked, standing in the middle of his office. He motioned for me to walk around his desk and stand in front of him, so I did.
"When you're being inspected, like now", he said, "you are to stand with your legs spread and your hands clasped behind your back. Do it now!"
I did. His hands explored my body, from ankles to scalp. Not an inch went unviolated by his damp touch. Despite the revulsion I felt for the man, his caresses did feel good, especially when he gently ran his fingertips over my breasts and across my nipples. They, of course, were standing at attention, like little traitors to my will. At one point he was sucking on them, alternating sides, squeezing and pulling on the one that wasn't in his mouth.
Finally he was finished with that part. I was happy, in spite of being a little turned on, because I thought I would be allowed to get dressed and leave. He had other plans.
"Lie down on my desk. Right there. Pull your knees up and spread your legs. Put your feet up on the edge, just like that. Yeah. Now don't move."
That's when hhe moved in with his tong again, runnning it uppand down, insideandout and all over, over and over and overa gain, all aroun dmya clit, circling endlesslyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Circling endlessly, sending me soaring, despite the hatred I had for him and for what he was doing to me. The feelings were incredible, wonderful, fantastic! I had never felt like that before. He licked, and sucked, and tongue-fucked me until I had an absolutely incredible orgasm. My juices coated his mouth and face and dripped from his little moustache.
Only then did he totally wreck things. Just as I was coming down, when everything was super sensitive, when the glow was just perfect, he stood up and jammed his cock into me. Just pushed it in as hard as he could. The pain! All the nice feelings ran away. All the pleasure. I was lubricating freely, so the hurt went away fairly soon, but he'd already ruined everything. I think that was the moment when I knew I hated him.
He crushed his mouth onto mine, and I tasted blood from a cut lip. His hands mauled my breasts, painfully pulling and twisting on the nipples, and he just rutted into me, over and over again. I thanked God it didn't take him long to climax, because otherwise I would have had bruises.
One thing I will say is that the office jokes about "Mr. Dick Small" were all inaccurate. His cock was big enough to be in one of those porno movies my husband and I sometimes watched. I guessed at probably eight inches, and thick, according to the size estimates John gave out when we watched those shows.
After making me lick him clean again, he let me go into the washroom to clean up. I had to get dressed in front of him, though. I imagine that was one way he got his jollies. The perverted bastard.
"I'll see you bright and early Monday morning," is what he said as I left. "Make sure you're wearing a new garter belt." He'd given me another hundred dollar bill. When I asked him what that was for, he said "I like to see my sluts well dressed."
"I am not a slut!" I cried, standing there, half-dressed, in the middle of his office.
"Until this business is settled, you are whatever I want you to be, including a slut. Is that clear?"
The tone of his voice left no doubt as to what the consequences would be if I disagreed. Crying in shame, I nodded my head.
The arrogant bastard.
My husband and I made love that Saturday. We did it in the missionary position, as usual. It was nice, as usual, and he got me off, as usual, but it was nothing like the explosion I'd felt in Dick's office, with his tongue buried in my pussy.
Sunday I felt tired and worn from all the worrying, so rather than the usual, I sucked and jacked John off. As usual, I pulled off at the last minute and let him spurt all over his chest and stomach. He seemed happy, and fell asleep with a smile on his face. For some reason, though, I started to picture what his expression was like when we watched those movies, with the women doing all kinds of rude and disgusting things. He always had this intense, concentrated look on his face, like his eyes were seeing what was on the screen, but inside his brain something else was happening. He was always eager and excited afterwards, wanting just a little more than I was willing to give, but settled for our usual. I began to wonder if he was picturing me in those movies.
Monday, Dick made me give him a blow job. I was completely naked, of course, and he made me hold my hands behind my back. "Use only your mouth," he said. That was a new experience. He told me how he liked it, when to suck, how to take it in deep, how to use my tongue on his glans and the underside of his cock. Towards the end, he had his hands in my hair and was basically shoving my head onto his cock, so there wasn't much I could do except try and keep from choking and gagging. He kept pushing down farther and farther until the head was in my throat. That hurt somewhat, but not nearly as much as when he fucked me, so I endured. As if I had a choice.
He also told me to swallow all of it, saying that he'd give me a lash with his belt for every drop I missed. It tasted pretty disgusting, but I did what I'd been told. One drop ran down my chin. True to his word, he pushed me down over his desk, pulled off his belt, and whipped me. It hurt worse than when he fucked me! The cruel bastard! By the end of the day, the pain and the red mark were gone, so I realized that he hadn't hit me nearly as hard has he could have.
Tuesday he fucked me, without any preparation. Very painful. I rubbed myself in the washroom afterwards, trying to assuage the pain. It didn't work.
Wednesday, another blow job. I was getting better at not gagging, and I never missed a drop.
Thursday, a brief tongue lashing, then a fucking. It still hurt.
Friday - well, Friday I remember as a bit of heaven. He licked me. Then he licked me some more. I had an orgasm. He kept on licking until I came again. When I was still recovering, he put two fingers inside, started wiggling them around, and licked me some more. I exploded, seeing stars and comets and little dancing things for the first time in my life. He left me lying there on his desk in a puddle of my own juices, dazed, confused, and barely able to comprehend what had happened. I knew then that all the sex I'd had in my life was a shallow imitation of what was possible.
I truly hated Dick at that point. The rotten bastard.
Later in the day, he stopped in at my cubicle and placed another hundred on my desk. "Buy a sexy outfit. I want you wearing it when I see you Monday morning."
There was no way I could hide any type of new clothing from my husband, and I told Dick that. He told me not to worry, that I could keep my new things in the storage room in his office. The situation was degenerating, but he had an answer for every one of my objections. The ultimate one, of course, was that I could simply say no and take the consequences. He knew I couldn't face that. He ignored my rather acerbic looks, pretending not to see the anger and hatred I showed.
The slimy bastard.
Saturday night, John rented a couple more of those movies he likes to watch. To his surprise (and mine!) I cuddled up with him on the couch, wearing nothing but my nightgown. It was a first. His hands and fingers wandered all over my body, including my privates, all through both movies. I could tell he was getting much more worked up than usual, probably because he could touch and feel and lick and taste some of what was on the screen. His kisses were intense, and very passionate. I still didn't let his mouth go any lower than my nipples though, because that still seemed rather dirty and disgusting. Even so, I watched the TV avidly any time there was a woman with someone's head between her legs. I could finally understand the fantastically tortured expressions their faces went through. The memory of what Dick had done was still fresh and clear, and I could picture myself showing those same emotions.
Our coupling that night, though intense, was the same as usual. Despite my orgasm, I felt rather unsatisfied, restless. It wasn't the same, knowing what was possible. I hated Dick for what he'd done to me.
Monday he had me wear my new outfit. It was a cream coloured silk blouse with a rather daring neckline matched with a similarly coloured miniskirt. The lacy edges of my new black bra were visible if I turned the wrong way or bent over, and the hem of my skirt revealed stocking tops and garters if I leaned right over from the waist. Revealing, and much more daring than what I usually wore. Dick liked the new look, and gave me another hundred to buy more.
I didn't think he realized that the change was going towards John and my mortgage payments. Sometimes, back then, I didn't think he really cared. He spent more on me over those two weeks than I had spent on myself in the previous six months.
He demanded another blow job, wanting me to do it in my new outfit. I was starting to get used to the feel of his cockhead deep in my throat, with his pubic hairs tickling my lip. The taste was still pretty gross, but at least I wasn't trying to lose my breakfast when he spurted in my mouth.
Tuesday was one of the worst, and best, days of my life. It started with Dick getting another blow job. Like I said, I was getting used to them, and it wasn't so bad any more. I guess you can get used to just about anything. Afterwards, he sent me, still naked, into the bathroom to clean up, and told me not to come out until he called for me. Nervous? Me? Nah - I was scared stiff. Something different was happening. He had new plans afoot.
A short while later I heard voices in the other room. Dick was talking with someone else, another man, but I couldn't tell who it was or what they were saying. The twenty minutes or so that I waited seemed like a lifetime. That's when he called my name, and told me to come out. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I stood there, frozen with fear. There was nothing in the bathroom to cover myself with, as the towels were just those little oversized washcloth things, hardly big enough to dry your hands with.
He called again, then came to get me. I couldn't move, but I also couldn't resist when he pulled me out into the office. My fears were justified. Sitting there in his office was Tim Wakefield, the senior V.P. of our biggest, and richest, customer. Their contract was up for renewal.
"Tim, I'm sure you remember Jane, and Jane, I know you remember Tim. All you talked about for a week after meeting him was how much of a prick you thought he was. Well, now you're going to be nice to him and help me win the contract. Aren't you."
He didn't say it as a question - it was more like an order. I had no idea what he was expecting of me. My clothes, which I'd left on his desk, were gone. The other outfit was at home, in the laundry. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. My heart sank, and I started to cry. My face was burning with shame and embarrassment.
Dick led me behind his desk, then pushed me onto it, until I was laying flat out on my back. He kept pushing until my head was hanging over the far side. After pulling my legs up and apart, opening me up to both of their gazes, he reached under my knees and pulled my hands down by my sides, holding them captive. That's when he started licking me again.
First, my thighs, on the inside, where they're really sensitive. Then the crease where leg met crotch, especially the little divots on either side of my tendons. I closed my eyes to shut out the world. His lips and tongue were almost mystical. He took lots of time, showing a great deal of patience, working me out of my misery and into a state of arousal.
He brought me cclose, so close to theedge, righton the edge of cclimax it wa sso goood and power ful I just couldnthelp mysel f he held me there fforsoo long so longgggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
He held me there for so long, I was squirming and wiggling around, trying to get him to pay attention to my clit. My need was there, and all of a sudden, so was Tim. He started playing with my breasts, pulling and twisting my nipples, but softly, making me want more. Dick wouldn't let me come. Tim kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth, searching for and finding mine, and then duelling with me for ownership.
I was so hot, I didn't care at that point. But when Tim pressed his cock to my mouth, that took off quite a bit of my passion. Dick's eager lips and tongue soon had me squirming, and Mr. Wakefield managed to get his cock into my mouth. He was much smaller than my boss, what John called 'average', maybe six or so inches, so I had no problem taking him in right to the balls. The man spent no time fooling around and just started pumping hard. When his sperm erupted in my mouth, I swallowed. I was becoming quite adept at that, after my lessons from Dick. That's when my boss finally took me over the edge, sucking my clit into his mouth and running his tongue all over the tip.
Once again, stars, comets, little squiggly things, and even a red haze, occupied my vision. I heard them talking, but didn't pay any attention to what they said. A door opened and closed. Dick put a pile of clothes, my clothes, on the desk, then he left, locking the door on his way out. Eventually my daze receded. I cleaned up, got dressed, and started my own work day. John spoke with me in private later, and told me I'd done just fine. We had the contract, and I was the 'intangible benefit' that had secured it. He was proud of me. The heartless bastard! I felt like slapping him silly! Then he said something that shut my mouth up fast. He was going to split the commission with me, and estimated my share to be five thousand dollars.
Five grand. Three month's salary. Enough to catch up on our mortgage, and on all the other bills. All it had cost me was my pride and self respect. I hated that man, but I would take the money. The manipulative bastard.
Wednesday and Thursday he fucked me hard, with no preparation. It hurt, a lot, and he noticed. His expression was cruel, and scary.
"Jane, I noticed that you don't seem to be getting into the swing of things. Starting tomorrow, I want you in here fifteen minutes earlier. Lock the door, get undressed, and lie down on my desk. I want you to masturbate yourself until I get in. That should make things a lot better for me."
The asshole wanted everything from me. He had stripped away my pride, my self respect, and my honour. Now he wanted my last shreds of dignity. He seemed impervious to the black looks I gave him.
Friday morning, I did what he wanted. When he walked in, I had one hand playing with my breasts, and the other in my crotch. Two fingers were sliding in and out of my hole, and my thumb was rubbing back and forth over my clit hood. Having him walk in and stare at me took away the little bit of excitement I'd built up, so I stopped.
"Keep going. Close your eyes and imagine anything you like, but keep jerking off until you cum."
So that's what I did. I don't know where he watched from, or even if he moved around to different vantage points. It pains me to admit, even now, that fantasizing about my husband didn't help in the least. Only when I started thinking about what Dick's tongue was capable of did I start to heat up. With that memory foremost in my mind, my passion rose. And rose. And rose. Finally, I exploded again. It wasn't as good as when he did it to me, but it was still better than any other time I'd ever done myself, other than the very first time.
Once again, before I had a chance to recover, before my sensitive clit and vagina were back to normal, he jammed himself inside in one massive thrust. It hurt, and I let him know that it hurt. He smiled and kept pounding away. Regardless of how loose or wet I had become, slamming something the size of his cock inside like he did was going to hurt, and he knew it. He enjoyed my pain and humiliation. I could see it in his eyes.
Once again, he finished off quickly inside me. I did not enjoy his penetration, or quick fuck, in the least. He left me sore again.
The unmitigated bastard.
Saturday night, John rented a couple more movies. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe he noticed my fascination with a few of the scenes from the previous week, but one of the tapes was titled "Lesbian Tongue Lashers", or something equally stupid.
Nevertheless, that night, there was another first. Half way through the second movie, after watching woman after woman shriek through orally induced orgasm after orgasm, I was so hot, I dragged John down on top of me, right there on the couch! It was the first time for us anywhere other than in bed. If the women were faking it, I didn't care. My imagination filled in for any lack in their acting abilities.
The movie was hot, John was hot, and I was sizzling. Never before had I felt like I did that night. While he pumped, licked, sucked, grabbed, and squeezed, I watched the television.
There wasa group scene going on, whith for woman ina ccircle,all hooked upm outh to croth, moth tocrotch, lickignand sucking and lickinganddalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
The four women were in a circle, with each one buried deep in the crotch of the next. The closeups were vivid, showing tongues licking on and in cracks, pushing deep into holes, and licking on top of clits over and over again. The sounds they made were incredible - their moans and whimpers, and sometimes shrieks, as one or another went over the edge, almost drove me insane. Finally, the climax of the scene, and the movie, arrived, and mine and John's as well. All four women went off at the same time, writhing and groaning in their passions. They set me off too, in a shrieking, gut-wrenching orgasm. It was not quite as good as when Tim and Dick had me in Dick's office, but it was close. It was also the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had with John, and he knew it.
It was also, according to him, the hottest, wildest, most ball-draining experience he'd ever had. Later, he started grilling me about what different, why I was changing. He wasn't too insistent, so I was able to put him off, but the seed had been planted in his mind. Something that he hinted at, something that I didn't think had the slightest bit of truth to it, was the possibility that I was a closet, or repressed, lesbian - or that I might be bi-sexual. I knew that was totally off the mark because I enjoyed John's cock too much. It was the thought of those tongues working away inside my pussy that set me off, not their owners. My sleep was troubled by disturbing, unremembered dreams.
The following week was pretty uneventful, if you can call masturbating naked in front of your boss, giving him blow jobs, and getting painfully fucked by him uneventful. I guess, since he left me alone other than first thing in the morning, and made no lewd references about what was going on, I managed to shut away those events during the rest of the day and concentrate on work, burying myself in all the mundane details requiring my attention. I still find it amazing how quickly I adapted to what was a very weird situation.
Whatever other effects his manipulations had, my appetite for John had certainly gone up. He was the surprised, and delighted, target for a lot of newfound sexual energy. I guess it's true. The more you do it, the more you want it.
On Friday, two things happened. Dick gave me another couple of hundred, and told me to buy a bunch of slinky evening and sleepwear that night. He then told me I was going to spend Saturday night at his place. There was no arguing with him, no discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts. I was to be there. He gave me his address and telephone number. Since he was carrying that folder with him at the time, I didn't argue very much. I was getting in too deep to be able to say no easily. What helped ease my conscience a little was the fact that it was payday, and that huge commission check was now sitting in the bank. Nevertheless, guilt rode me hard.
John was very understanding about my need to be away for work that weekend, even though we had originally vowed that Saturday nights were to be reserved for us, and our own fun. Maybe it was because his own work hours were down again, and he knew we needed the money. I didn't think he suspected there was another man involved, but I couldn't be completely sure of that. Friday night, and then again on Saturday morning, we fucked like bunnies. He didn't understand the change, and, to tell you the truth, neither did I, but my passions, my appetite, and above all, my enjoyment, were increasing daily.
I still wouldn't let him do anything strange, and we stuck to the missionary position, but still, it was pretty wild. I even let him finger me to orgasm once, when he was flagging a little.
At five o'clock sharp I showed up at Dick's place. It was huge, way out in the suburbs, and on a lot that looked big enough for a modest airport. There was money in that house, and that property. From what little I knew about the company we worked for, he certainly hadn't paid for that place with his salary and commissions.
A very pretty older lady answered the doorbell. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Later I found out that she was in fact only a few months shy of forty. The brunette was a couple of inches shorter than me, but probably weighed a few pounds more. All of the extra weight was poured into the right places. Where I was tight and trim, she was what my husband would call voluptuous. With big breasts, round hips, full, jiggling bottom, yet still with a flat stomach and good waist, she looked magnificent. Everything was showcased in the maid's uniform she was wearing, especially her breasts and shapely legs. I knew if John saw her, he would probably be drooling. I knew his taste in women. He'd pointed out enough of them both on the streets and in the porno flicks. His favourite expression, one that definitely applied in her case, was 'built like a brick shithouse'.
Dick introduced her as Mrs. Darling. Cindy Darling. I almost choked when I heard that. How anyone could go through life with a last name like that totally baffled me, even though I knew it was a common enough surname.
I had no idea what my boss had in mind for the night, but I had expected it to be rude, crude, embarrassing, demeaning, and otherwise thoroughly hateful. He shocked me, at least with the early part of the evening.
After some pre-dinner drinks (I had ginger ale, he had scotch), Cindy called us to the table. She served us Gaspatcho soup, followed by a wonderful crab and shrimp salad. Dick said that the cook was a woman named Tanya, and that I'd meet her later. If the preliminaries were anything to go by, dinner would be spectacular. She exceeded my expectations with a duck l'orange that was simply too marvellous to be believed. The scalloped potatoes, glazed carrots, and steamed asparagus tips were all perfect. Of course, the only reason I knew what those dishes were called was because Cindy told us what she was serving as she brought it out.
A half hour after dinner (by necessity - I was stuffed) dessert was served. Baked Alaska, flambe style. If dear old perverted Mr. Small was trying to impress me, he succeeded. His house was huge, it was impressive, it was tastefully furnished, and it reeked of style and suave upper classness. I found out later that everything, from the decorating to the landscaping, was orchestrated and arranged by other people. All Dick did was get the right person to do the right job, and spend money.
Afterwards, we sat in the drawing room, making small talk, discussing little things about work and customers. Nothing important, and nothing crude. I had no idea what he was trying to do. He did manage to pump two good-sized glasses of wine into me, and since I don't normally drink much, that got me feeling pretty mellow.
We were joined by Cindy and Tanya around eight or so, after they had finished all the cleanup.
Tanya was very much different from Cindy, and actually looked a little like me, body wise. She was younger, maybe nineteen or twenty, taller, and a little thicker overall with slightly smaller breasts, but her general look was quite similar to mine. She was also quite fit and trim, with no excess fat, had long legs, and a cover girl face. Her hair was long and black, hanging down almost to her bottom, and her eyes were a matching dark, dark brown. Where my lips were bow shaped, sometimes pouting, sometimes smiling a little, hers were wide, thick, and expressive, and were at that moment trembling in between neutrality and a grimace. Because of her otherwise narrow, darkly tanned features, her mouth looked even larger and fuller.
It was after the two of them showed up that Dick showed his true colours.
"Stand up and move to the centre of the room."
With a small, nervous sigh, I did so. My arms were trembling and my knees felt weak. He had me turn around slowly, showing off the new dress I'd bought at his instruction. It was a mini, in black satin, with spaghetti straps, a low cut front, and a full, loose skirt. Standing still and straight, it barely reached to mid thigh. Every time I moved or leaned, more showed. Again, if I bent too far, the tops of my charcoal stockings, and the red garters, would show. He liked it, a lot. The cut and style of the dress precluded wearing a bra, so he had been treated to some delightful jiggling all evening.
"Cindy, if you would do the honours?"
The brunette came over to me, running her fingertips around on my stomach and ass as she circled. She traced the edge of my dress, from one shoulder, down deep into my cleavage, then up to the other shoulder. Her touch continued over the other side and down my back, down to where the zipper was located.
"Stand still, Jane."
Dick's order was hard to follow when I felt Cindy's lips on the side of my neck, and even harder when her tongue traced the outline of my ear from the top down to my earring. She unzipped the dress and let it fall to my feet. I was now half naked, topless in front of three people. Cindy had me step out of my dress, which she hung on the back of a chair. With a nod from Dick, she stepped up behind me, reached around, and started fondling my breasts. It felt good, but I was far too nervous to enjoy her ministrations. The fear of the unknown was strong, and not even having a suspicion about what would happen made that fear much more real and palpable.
It was harder to ignore her lips wandering up and down my neck and across my shoulders. I didn't want to enjoy her touches at all, because I wasn't that sort of a girl, but still, my body liked the sensations.
Next, she removed my stockings. Her hands travelled all over both legs during the procedure, stimulating me, trying to get me aroused. There was a little bit of success, but not much. I was able to ignore any real pleasure coming from her touch. She then unsnapped and removed my garter belt, and finally pulled off my panties. Her lips left a trail of kisses down both cheeks and the backs of my legs, chasing those sheer black nylon panties as they fell.
Finally she left me alone, and I opened my eyes. They had closed when Cindy first started touching me. What I saw made me gasp. Dick was sitting on the couch, and Tanya, still dressed in skirt and blouse, was sitting in his lap. Judging by the movements they were making, and by the expressions on their faces, he was buried to the hilt in her pussy.
"Kiss her," was his instructions to Cindy. I complained, stating flat out that I wasn't going to. I was now deathly afraid of what that man could do to me. His confidence, the aura of power around him, there, in his house, surrounded by his slaves (that's what I'd decided those two women were) was incredible. Ideas of flight ran through my mind, but were quickly dismissed as ridiculous.
He sighed, then spoke to me.
"Jane, let's get one thing straight, here and now. Until this business between us is settled, you are my slut, and you will do anything I tell you, regardless of how you feel personally. Is that understood?"
My vehement protests were ignored, and probably sounded a little funny to him, coming from a woman standing naked in the middle of the room, while he was busy fucking someone else. When I told him that I had limits he couldn't push me across no matter what, he smiled. It was ugly.
"Cindy, darling, would you please play the tape I gave you earlier. Jane needs some education."
The brunette lead me into another room where a big screen TV and entertainment system occupied centre stage. She popped in a tape, hit the start button, and everything came to life. It took me a few seconds to orient myself and to realize what was playing. I recognized myself. I recognized Tim Wakefield. There was no way I could tell who the third person was, even though I knew it was Dirty Dick (my new name for that bastard). He'd somehow managed to video tape the scene in his office. It was with horrified fascination that I watched myself practically swallow Tim's cock, while I was squirming and squealing with pleasure. For many minutes I stood there, staring at the screen. It was very apparent when Tim climaxed, and my throat moved with obvious swallowing motions. When my climax hit on the screen, my entire body throbbed in sympathy with the remembered ecstasy.
Cindy took my hand and guided me back into the other room. At some point during the show, she'd stripped naked without me noticing. The expression on my face told Dick everything he needed to know.
"Kiss her," he told the brunette again.
I didn't do anything to stop her. All my resistance was gone. If John saw that tape, he'd die. If he didn't, he'd kill me for sure. I was completely roped in, and my boss knew it. The sick bastard.
When the kiss came, it was tender, soft, and delicate, a light touch of lip on lip. Her breath was warm and sweet, not at all like the swine busy rutting not more that ten feet from where I stood. She was slightly shorter than me, so she stood on her toes to reach me properly, and kissed me once more. Her tongue tasted my lips, teasingly sliding in a fraction of an inch before disappearing. I made no move to help or hinder, letting her do as she would.
Again she kissed me, a little more firmly, pushing her tongue under my lips, exploring, testing the waters, as it were. While her mouth held my attention, her hands began wandering, searching out all the tender and sensitive spots that could drive me wild. She found many - her lips, her eyes, her naked breasts, sensing the involuntary little shudders, the tiny gasps, the slightest tensing of muscles, that betrayed her successes.
With a last lick at my lips, she stepped behind me, snaking her arms under mine to hold me in a light hug. Moist kisses started trailing across my shoulders and neck, then down my sides and back. With an effort, I closed my eyes to the scene Dick and Tanya were making, then tuned their noises out of my consciousness. Ignoring what Cindy was doing turned out to be far more difficult. She hadn't missed a single erotic spot on the way down from my neck to my bottom. Her hands, never idle, had kept up their slow, insidious attack, and her lips and tongue were now sensitizing broad swaths of my posterior. I was far from impervious to her attentions.
I tried to think of other things. I tried desperately to hold onto what my mother had drummed into me over and over again - that anything other than husband and wife coupling in the missionary position was dirty and horrid, evil, and a sin in God's eyes. Her teachings were crumbling before an onslaught of pure, sensual feeling. My will, my resistance, was fading. It's all right, a tiny voice in the back of my head said. You have no choice in the matter, so you might as well enjoy it. A fresh wave of guilt swept over me, temporarily drawing me back from the brink, but two hands, expertly tracing lines of fire through my groin and along my upper thighs, soon had me ready to topple into the abyss once more.
With a delicate, sensuous touch, and the patience of a saint, she teased and caressed my body. Her seduction was subtle, sweet, and almost impossible to resist. Magical fingers, palms, lips, tongue, even hair, combined to pull me into another world, one where nothing but she and I existed.
Almost imperceptively my breathing grew faster and shallower, my breasts swelled and nipples grew hard, my arms began to shake slightly, and my knees grew weak. Slowly I was giving in to her manipulations, slowly she was winning. The feeling of inevitability grew, and the near certainty of her success grew with it. My mouth dried, my tongue darted out to lick my lips, and my cleft started getting moist. My insides felt like they were melting.
Along the front of my thighs her hands moved, then outwards and upwards, over my hips and along the ridges of my pelvis. Then down, around, and back up over my bottom. Her tongue traced the outline of my bottom cheeks, then she began a nuzzling, with her cheeks against mine.
When her hands nudged my knees apart, and then drew upwards along my inner thighs to begin tracing the outlines of my sex, I was lost. I was hers to do with as she pleased. Nothing was left of my objections, of my sanity. She had won.
Cindy pulled me down to the floor, onto my back, to rest against the soft, thick carpeting. Somewhere in my mind I was glad to be lying down, since I had been in danger of collapsing. With a slight movement, and a hint of pressure on my knees, she shifted into the space between my thighs. Rather than going straight to the heart of the matter, she once again delayed, moving her attentions upwards, pausing slightly at my breasts, finally arriving at my mouth.
She kissed me, and I kissed her back. thats when it happened thats when hertongue finally reach edit's goal,when it tickled places unreachableby noormal humanb eingssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Her tongue, her incredible tongue, reached half way down my throat, into places never before explored. The sheer sensuality of what she did sent me over into a small, explosive orgasm. Her kiss, and her prehensile tongue, did it to me. The visions of what she could do when she finally reached my middle almost set me off again. I heard moaning, and slowly came to realize it was me.
I could feel her lips on mine. I could feel her breasts, nipples as hard as my own, pressing into my chest, the heat of them burning holes right through me. I could feel the moist warmth of her groin slowly grinding up and down along my hip. I could feel her stomach, fluttering and moving with each breath, pressing into mine. I could feel her heart beating, the cadence as fast and as excited as my own. But her tongue, sliding around, over, under my own, exploring my mouth, inviting my own, tasting and teasing, into her, that is what changed my world.
After an eternity of learning, of touching, of my hands exploring her body, she swung around, then pulled me on top of her. With precision and practiced skill, she'd manoeuvred me into the classic sixty-nine position, with her on the bottom. I was now nose-and-mouth to groin with her sex (my eyes were still closed). Her first teasing licks, along my innermost thighs, sent shivers through my body. Without hesitation, despite never before even touching another woman's genitals, I copied her actions. I don't remember any taste or smell from then, just touch - and her skin was soft, smooth, warm, and silky, all at once.
For an age, she explored the outer areas of my labia, and I travelled around hers. The anticipation, the expectation,the waiting, alltook their toll. Andthen - and then,her tongue, thaat tong ue,slith ereditsway ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
That tongue, her tongue, entered me, parted my lips, sought my centre, invaded my being. It discovered places, tasted things, swirled and twirled, and drove me almost insane. I tried my best to copy her, but I was only gifted with a normal human reach. Besides which, my whimpers and twitches interfered with my concentration. My vagina contracted down onto her invading muscle in waves, trying to draw it in deeper and deeper. Then she began to lick something, way up inside, and that feeling drove all thought, all other sensation, out of my mind. A high, keening noise, originating from somewhere deep inside my body, surrounded me. She continued, and my insides melted, then exploded. Waves of pure sensation overwhelmed me, tearing me from the normal world.
I think I fainted.
When consciousness returned, I was still whimpering, and her tongue was doing a slow twirl around my clit. She was letting me back into reality, but only on her terms.
I began a slow, gentle licking of her furrow, from it's start, down over her clit, and into her hole. I repeated the move, over, and over, and over again. She seemed to like it.
There was an intrusion, an anomaly, a disturbance in our self-contained little world. Something cold, wet, and slippery splashed against my anus. Her arms held my thighs tight, her knees held my head close. Something else pressed me down. A few seconds later, something huge, hot, and insistent pressed against my sphincter and started forcing its way inside. It hurt! With the pain, normal thought returned, and the sensual world Cindy had so carefully built dissolved into nothingness. I was back in mundane reality. It was then I realized that I was about to be anally raped by Dirty Dick. That name now held a double meaning in my mind. He pushed, I moaned, he pushed again, I whimpered, he pushed some more, burst inside, and I screamed with the pain. Lubricated or not, his was the first thing inside me that was larger than a thermometer. He was huge, and I was certain that he had split me open and I was bleeding to death.
With time, penetration, and the application of more lubricant, the pain diminished, but didn't go away. He thrust in and out for a while, building up both speed and depth of stroke, until he shuddered, roared, and let go, slamming into my bottom with a series of bruising jerks. Things were suddenly much looser and wetter in my rectum than they had been, so I believed that he'd finished.
When he pulled out, he tried to pull my head up by the hair. The thought of what he seemed to want sickened me, right to the lowest level of my gut. Instead of even acknowledging his attempt, I tightened my grip on Cindy's thighs, pushed deep into her cleft, and fastened my lips to her clit. Sucking and licking on that was far, far preferable to any alternative Dirty Dick (shudder) was thinking of. After a few more half-hearted tries, he gave up and left us alone for a while. The filthy bastard.
I carried on with what I was doing, ignoring the pain in my butt. Eventually, my senses of taste and smell returned. I discovered that her flavour and odour, while distinctive and sharp, were not at all unpleasant, not like I had imagined at all. I believed that, like oysters, sucking her clit was something I could learn to enjoy for its own sake, never mind the obvious effect my attentions were having on the owner. Her tongue was busy as well. Licking on parts of me that I wouldn't have touched without gloves on at that point, she managed to assuage a great deal of the pain Dirty Dick had caused.
With wiggling hips, panting breath, and insistent thrusts, she made her state of arousal known. I didn't stop until she literally squeezed me away by pulling her legs together. Her deep, irregular breathing, alternately warming and cooling my inner self, made my hips twitch in sympathy. The pain in my ass toned down any fresh arousal, however, and I soon rolled over onto my back.
My eyes focused on the scene being played out on the couch. Dick was there, now naked, leaning back with his hips shoved forward. Tanya was also naked, on all fours, giving him the blow job of a lifetime, if her energetic movements were anything to go by. I could see that she was even better looking naked than she was with clothes on. There were no tan lines to be seen, anywhere on her body. Her dark brown areolae, capped with two hard, finger tip sized nipples, were completely surrounded by darkly tanned skin. Down lower, I could see no pubic hair whatsoever, and her mound and lips looked to be just as deeply tanned as the rest.
Dirty Dick noticed that I was back with the real world. He pulled the raven-haired beauty off his member, stood, and walked over to where I was lying. Crouching down out of my sight, he grabbed twin handfuls of my hair and tilted my head back. His cock was large, hard, and in my face. I had no resistance left. All I could do was whimper in protest. When he pushed, I opened my mouth and let him in. He raped my throat. It didn't hurt nearly as much as when he raped my ass, but there would be soreness in the morning. With the different angle he was using, his glans reached deeper than it normally did, accounting for the pain.
A few dozen strokes later, his cock got bigger, harder, and longer, signaling his incipient orgasm. When it came, I choked and swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, then it was all over for him, for the evening. At least, it was between him and I. He looked carefully for any evidence of spilled or wasted semen, but found none. A rather hateful expression washed across his face. He got up, grabbed a somewhat fearful looking Tanya, and dragged her off to another part of the mansion.
A sigh brought my attention back to the other occupant of the room. Cindy stood up, stretched, wiggled her bottom, and started straightening up the room, collecting clothes as she did. I was feeling a delicious lethargy, and was content to lay on the carpet and do nothing for a while. It was thick, soft, and delightfully warm. She minced off with one batch of apparel, swinging her backside to and fro. When she returned, she set about her task again, picking up the remnants of her and my clothing. Once again she disappeared for a few minutes before returning to finish her chore.
Eventually she looked at me - or rather, at the spot my feet occupied.
"Ma ... Mr. Small has a room set aside for you, for the night ... if you wish."
Her words said one thing, but her inflection, her tone, said something else. I wasn't sure what that something was, though I had some wild suspicions.
"If I wish. But ... ?"
Her stare, directed at my toes, intensified, as did her nervousness.
"If you wish. Or, you could ... stay ... with me?"
Her voice faltered at the end, changing to a squeak. I couldn't tell if she was more afraid of me saying yes, or saying no. Her eyes flickered to mine for only the briefest instant, then returned to her inspection of the region around my toes. There was something hiding behind those tightly veiled eyes, something intense, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out what it was.
The conditioning of a lifetime surged within me, along with my mother's words and teachings, my inner voice, the comments made by other girls all through high school and college, thoughts of my wedding vows, and my commitment to John. They all joined together in a great surge, warring against the strange atmosphere in that house, the new, powerful feelings racing through my soul, and the memories of how Cindy had made wonderful love with me . The battle was brief, but intense, and there was no clear victor.
In a whispering voice, I spoke.
"I will stay with you."
Morning brought with it strange feelings, dreamlike memories, and harsh inner thoughts. The one thing missing, the one thing that I thought would be dominant over everything else, was any sense of guilt for sleeping with Cindy.
Admittedly, after going to bed, all we did was kiss, snuggle, and fall asleep in each other's arms, but that should have been enough to trigger feelings of remorse as deep and as wide as any I had ever known. Yet nothing.
Her kiss, her gentle caress, were what woke me. I brushed her cheek with the back of my finger, looked into her eyes for an instant, smiled, and kissed her forehead. She smiled back, then wiggled into a closer embrace and seemed to fall back to sleep. That left me with my own, very personal, struggle.
The brief look in her eyes that morning showed me the same intense something that had been there the previous night. I recognized it for what it was, though, because I felt the same thing deep inside myself, and it was the cause of an internal conflict the likes of which I had never known.
I loved John, my husband. I had loved him since shortly after we first met. He was my one true love - I had said so many times. I had taken vows and had committed myself to a lifetime of love with him. I knew, also, that he loved me just as deeply.
All that, and a lifetime of learning, were at war within me because, without the slightest doubt whatsoever, I knew I was in love with Cindy in the same way. It's impossible, my brain screamed. It's sick, my mother's voice cried. You're a sinner, and you'll burn in hell, my old priest's voice shouted.
"I love you," whispered Cindy, drowning out all the other voices.
"I love you too," I whispered back. Our lips met, out tears mingled, and we held each other tight against the storm of the world.
Shortly thereafter, Dirty Dick appeared, and his voice tore through all our imaginings and hopes and dreams. His iron hard, cold words spurred us back into his harsh here and now.
"You, slut, get breakfast. Now!" he growled, staring at Cindy. She got up and ran from the room, still naked.
"You, slut, don't move," he said, staring at me. I froze. He climbed onto the bed, forcing himself between my legs, and started licking. His tongue seemed hard, harsh, and impatient in comparison, yet the physical stimulation was still there. I got moist enough for him to be satisfied. The immediate, forceful penetration was still painful, and his thrusts were more so. He still damned well hurt! Thankfully, he was just as quick to finish as ever and filled me within a few minutes.
Some sort of strange thought rolled through his brain about then, and I have no idea where it came from. His question, while pertinent, seemed several weeks late.
"You are on the pill, aren't you."
I just looked at him. No, I wasn't on the pill.
"You're not on the pill?" I shook my head, no.
"You're wearing a diaphragm?" Again, I shook my head, no.
"Are you using protection of any kind? An IUD? You've had your tubes tied?" Once more, I shook my head, no.
"Jesus H. Christ, you're ripe to get knocked up!" He was almost instantly hard again, plunging deep inside and humping away like a madman. His previous spendings lubricated me enough that he no longer caused frictional pain, but his hard pounding was starting to bruise other parts of my anatomy.
His mind must have gone somewhere strange, because he climaxed again very quickly, and I felt him pulse quite a few times, as if he were sending out a great number of spurts of semen.
When he pulled out, he stared at me for a few minutes before speaking.
"I'm gonna fill you so full of spunk, you'll be having my kids for then next twenty years." His voice was low and intense, and his look was equally so. Then he turned and left. By the large amount of leakage I felt, he had been quite prolific.
I didn't bother to disabuse him of his erroneous belief. No, I wasn't on the pill, or using any kind of protection. There was no need. When I was thirteen, I had a fever. A week later, I was in the hospital. Two days later, trying to save my life, they operated. I survived, but parts of me didn't. John knew, along with only a handful of other people. It wasn't the type of thing you told to co-workers or casual acquaintances. Or people like Dirty Dick.
We ate breakfast in the dining room, all quite naked. Dick looked like he'd been licked clean, probably by Tanya. I was leaking all over the chair, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, he acted delighted at the sight of his juice seeping out of my slot. His good humour sparked some careful smiles from Both Cindy and Tanya.
After we finished, he let me clean up, and then had me model all the lingerie I'd purchased. His good mood stayed, so he was apparently satisfied with what I'd bought. We were all dressed again, sitting in the drawing room, and Dick was making small talk. Nobody else was participating but he didn't seem to care. I asked a very important question, and he looked delighted that I had asked. At least, he took great delight in answering.
"Dick, how long is this business between you and me going to last?"
The smile on his face got huge, hard, and nasty.
"Well, the way I figure it, with the right judge and prosecutor, you'd probably go to jail for five years. So, our business will be over and done with in five years."
I stared at him, unbelievingly. His hard, malevolent eyes left no doubt that he was telling me his version of the truth. When I burst into tears, he laughed, long and hard, and left the room. Cindy and Tanya both tried to comfort me, to no avail. I was inconsolable. To be tied to that monster for a half a decade? Through the best years of my life? For a few fleeting moments I considered suicide, but the look in Cindy's eyes, and the thought of what such an act would do to John, made me forget those urges.
Some time later in the afternoon I departed, and made my way home. There's no memory left in me as to what I told John, or what we said or did, or anything. All I remember is the awful, hollow feeling that had settled deep in the pit of my stomach.
The following week went pretty much the same as the previous one had, as far as I can remember, except that we went to Tim Wakefield's office for his blow job, rather than him coming to Dick's. I asked my boss about that, and he said we owed him one more, and then the slate was clean. I became ill at lunch time, the thought of doing that again having a nasty effect on my innards.
The week after that, I was 'invited' to stay overnight at Dick's for a Tuesday night. John accepted whatever lame excuse I came up with, and never mentioned anything more. He seemed, at least on the surface, to be content with the new, much more libidinous, me. I even shocked him one evening by giving him a blow job on the couch. I still didn't swallow, but the sheer novelty of the event rocked him to his core. He told me so.
On the Tuesday, I took a change of clothes with me to work, and went straight to Dick's afterwards. He drove. The change of clothes was rather redundant, since by then I had acquired a half dozen different, rather sexy outfits, all hanging in Dick's storage room. I took them for John's benefit.
Dick himself cooked dinner, since there was nobody there except the two of us, at least for the early part of the evening. He was an adequate chef. I was better, John was better, and I won't even try to compare Tanya's abilities with his. We ate, made some idiot conversation, and basically wasted time until nine. That's when his visitors arrived, and the reason for my being there became apparent.
Two men came in, both Spanish-looking, both speaking with an accent. Neither spoke to me, only about me, and looked at me like an object. I suppose that's what they took me to be. That's certainly how they treated me. Dick had me strip in front of them, as sexily as possible. They both made rude comments, both in English and in their native tongue, about what a fine body I had, what a pretty face, and what a lucky guy Dick was to own a slut like me. I smiled pretty, even though I felt like puking all over them. It was a horrible night.
First the taller, uglier one fucked me. He hurt, especially when he bit my nipples. The other one hurt too, only it was when he bruised my lips when forcing his mouth on mine. He smoked, and the taste in his mouth was horrid. Then the first one buggered me, with no lubrication, and laughed at my screams of pain. Dick stuck his cock in my mouth to shut me up, since I was annoying the other guy. When those two finished, the other guy took me in the ass, bruising me even more, and choked me to stop my screaming. For a while I was afraid for my life. While my hands were busy trying to force the second guy's fingers apart enough so I could breathe, the first guy slapped around my breasts. He told Dick that he liked the way they jiggled, and loved the way the red marks showed up so beautifully on my lightly tanned tits.
By they time they finished, I was a wreck, emotionally and physically. They'd fulfilled their hedonistic fantasies, and I'd paid the price. I crawled upstairs to the room I had shared with Cindy, had a short, hot, painful shower, then fell into a fitful slumber.
Some time early in the morning I was awakened by someone crawling into my bed. It was the second guy. He clamped a hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming, then proceeded to rape me. It hurt horribly. Then he bit my left breast, on the side, very hard. That hurt even worse, and I could tell that the bruises and marks would be visible for weeks. I cried, and the guy snickered as he walked away.
When Dick saw the teeth marks in the morning, he told me I must have done something to make the guy mad, and that it was my own fault. I'd have to live with the consequences. I cried some more, so he slapped me across the face, hard enough to leave fingerprints.
Work was difficult. Facing John that night was even more difficult. Somehow I managed to keep him from noticing the bruises.
Thursday, I was told by Dirty Dick that I'd be spending another Saturday night at his place, except that it would be from breakfast on. He had some fresh visitors to entertain.
The scum sucking bastard!
John was upset, and I didn't blame him, but I simply couldn't tell him the truth. Not if I wanted to keep him. The thought of lying to him for five years, though, almost made me break down. Almost.
Saturday morning, at seven a.m. sharp, I was at Dirty Dick's door. Cindy greeted me with a quick, furtive kiss, then escorted me to the kitchen. Breakfast was being served and I was to help with the serving. Eight men, besides Dick, were there, and they all took great delight in pinching both me and Cindy until my bottom felt black and blue. Other than that, we were ignored.
After breakfast, they all disappeared into the far reaches of the mansion. Cindy, Tanya, and I had the rest of the morning to talk.
I told both of them a little of how I'd been trapped, but not the details.
Cindy said she was a victim of blackmail. Her husband was having a very public affair with his secretary, one that only he and the woman thought was a secret. In a moment of anger and stupidity, Cindy had a brief, very intense fling with a local workman. Their tryst was at a cheap and seedy motel, and was their one and only meeting. Unfortunately, somehow Dirty Dick had managed to video tape the proceedings without her knowledge. Since at the time she had no job, no training, and an eleven year old daughter she didn't want to lose, she couldn't afford a divorce. She had also been told by Dick that she'd be tied to him for five years. She had less than two to go.
Tanya had a similar story, except that her husband was a violent, very jealous man. She was afraid that if he found out she'd cuckolded him, he would, quite literally, beat her to death. It had happened at the same motel, and Dick had the video tape. She had just over two years to go of the five Dick had claimed as his.
"What, did you get married when you were sixteen?" I meant it as a joke. She looked far too young to have been married for more than four years.
"No. I was a pregnant fifteen year old bride. My parents insisted." She had been forced into a loveless marriage, to a man that she now thought to be an asshole. She never said what happened to the baby.
What made things worse for both was the fact that Dick also had video footage of both their husbands with other women, and in Cindy's case, with someone else besides just the secretary. He laughed at their indignant words, saying that the men were free to do as they pleased, because he, Dick, had no use for them. The women, though, were useful sluts.
My hatred for that man grew deeper. He was a total bastard.
One thing they both said, one thing that gave me a sliver of hope, was that Dick did let loose his properties after the five years. Three other women had been freed after their tenure during Cindy's enslavement. The one that had tried to cause problems afterwards had ended up in jail for armed robbery, assault, and a host of other charges. According to Tanya, she had been sentenced to fifteen years in prison for crimes both Cindy and Tanya knew the woman had never committed.
That stinking bastard.
Lunch was served. All nine men were back, so the pinching resumed, only it was continued on posteriors and breasts. Dick laughed when I cried out in pain.
"Easy now. Don't damage the merchandise. We'll need it hale and hearty for later!"
Those words sent a shiver of fear through me. Whatever they had planned for later, I knew I wanted no part of it.
After lunch, they disappeared again. The two women and I talked about Dirty Dick some more. Our descriptions of him became rather acerbic, and provided some colour as they told me what they knew of his dealings.
He apparently had business ties, both legitimate and shady, throughout our town and every other community within a hundred miles. The sales job he had was just a front to justify his income and his travelling. Most of the sales he made were to associates of one kind or another, but there were enough of those to keep him at a decent six figure income. They had no idea where the rest of his money came from, but one possibility was blackmail, the same way those two had been roped in. They knew nothing else, so we started talking about other, far lighter subjects.
Dinner was subdued. Apparently there was some sort of disagreement between two factions within the group. What, I don't know, but the split was obvious, and appeared to be serious. There was no playful pinching, but when Cindy dropped a glass, one of the men gave her a very hard slap on her rear. Her scream of pain brought a smile to a few of their faces. That fear I'd had earlier came back.
After dinner, the men left to talk for a while. We cleaned up, then were ordered to join them.
When Dick started up a video, I was quite literally shocked to my toes! There were Cindy and I locked in an embrace. He'd taped that too! The utter bastard!
The men looked at the video, then looked at us, and laughed. One asked Dick if he could give them a live show, as a sort of warm up. He shrugged, and said sure. He looked at me with the hardest, grimmest expression I have ever seen. He told me that I would perform, or else.
Cindy, apparently, was quite adept at putting on shows. She stripped rather sexily for the men, and then, because I was incapable of movement, or even real thought, slowly removed my clothing as well. She lowered me down onto my back and started kissing and fondling me. There was no way I could respond to her in front of all those leering, evil faces. No way! So she tried to fake it for both of us. She climbed on top, in a sixty nine, slurped loudly at my slit, which was the only one they could see, and moaned and groaned and wiggled and bounced around like she was at the height of passion. I was frozen as stiff as a board, but I thought she managed to fool them all into thinking we were both going crazy with lust.
They watched us, they watched the video, and they had Tanya blowing each of them in turn. She did them all, one right after the other. I know I would have been physically ill after the second one.
When Cindy was finished, and the videos were finished, and Tanya was finished, one of the men, the ugliest, I think, said it was time for the real entertainment to begin. Cindy started to whimper, and that sound finally broke through the ice. She was scared. Her fear drove icicles down my spine. I started to get up, preparing to run for my life, when two of them grabbed me. Two more grabbed Cindy. They dragged us into a part of the mansion I'd never been in before, into a room that horrified me. I swear to you it was the reincarnation of Tomas de Torquemada's favourite workshop.
Cindy was strapped onto a rack, face down. I was placed in stocks and secured. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her. The screams, then the bubbling whimpers, were horrible. My turn came all too soon. They all gathered around. Each of them showed me his favourite implement, letting me get worked up for my incipient beating. They then demonstrated their toys on my body. Each of them had a turn. Then they each took another turn. I guess my screams annoyed them because one man stuffed a gag in my mouth and fastened it around my head.
They each took another swing. My back was on fire, my ass burned, and my thighs felt like they'd been flayed. Never had I felt pain like that before.
One man took another swing, a very hard one, and hit my left leg. It felt like I'd been sliced to the bone. Something trickled down past my knee. The sudden agony brought on a flood of adrenalin, constricting my throat, and causing my heart to pound madly. I found it very hard to suck in enough air through my nose alone, and was soon feeling quite lightheaded. The dizziness made me rather ill, and almost made me lose both lunch and dinner. Not wanting to drown in my own upheavings, I fought desperately to reign in my recalcitrant stomach.
Dick, to his slimy credit, tried to call a halt to the proceedings. The ugliest one told him that he should, in the interests of all, "allow Joseph to work out his deeply held frustrations on the worthless cunt. He'll be much more reasonable after watching her bleed for a while."
I whimpered, and wondered if I would survive. There were five more blows, widely spaced, all vicious, before I passed out.
When I came to, I was in a bed, and in a world of hurt. My memory was a bit clouded, but I remembered every one of those last six blows in agonizing detail. That asshole's egregious display of cruelty had left me nearly paralyzed with pain. Cindy was lying in another bed not too far away. If I hadn't been facing in that direction, I probably would never have known it was her, as lifting and turning my head seemed like an impossible task.
Tanya came in and rubbed something into Cindy's shoulders. Her whimpers told me that she was in pain too. It was the scream she let loose when the young woman tried to massage her knees that told me she'd been hurt as badly as me.
When Tanya started rubbing some sort of cream into my back, I passed out again.
Dirty Dick drove me home that afternoon. He seemed nervous.
"If your husband tries something stupid, like coming after me, he'll get himself killed. If my security people don't get him, my friends will, just for their own protection. That's assuming you're stupid enough to tell him the truth. Give him some sort of cock and bull story about being abducted off the street and raped. A tale like that will keep him happy and in the dark."
I didn't answer him. Most of my concentration went into sitting there without crying out in pain. The rest was a thousand miles away.
"I'll arrange for you to have Monday and Tuesday off, with pay. Wednesday, you'll be at work as usual." The steel came back into his voice. "Wednesday night, I have further use for you, even damaged. You will be there, or you will face worse than you have already received. Do you understand me?" When I didn't answer, he clipped me on the shoulder. That hurt beyond words. "I said, do you understand me, slut?"
"Yes, Mr. Small. I have Monday and Tuesday to recuperate. Wednesday, I go to work, and Wednesday night I'm to be at your place, or else. Also, I'm to tell my husband some sort of lie to keep him from doing something stupid, like tracing you down and killing you. I understand."
He stared hard at me, as though there was something in my voice he didn't like. My face was set in a mask of pain, I knew, because that's what I felt. Nothing else could have gotten through.
"Jane, believe me, I didn't want this to happen to you. It was not intentional. I don't damage my property like that without a good reason, and there wasn't really a good reason. Just an associate with a gripe, and a really mean streak. I hope you understand that this probably won't happen again."
Probably. No guarantees. Me, his slut, his property. He didn't like to damage it without good reason. What did he consider good reason? The pain made me ill, almost bad enough to throw up in his nice new beemer. If I had, would he have thrown it away and bought himself another one? If I died, or became useless, would he throw me away and trap himself another slut? I gave up thinking. The pain was too much.
John was, well, I don't know. Furious, but controlled. I gave him the line like Dick had suggested, but he told me not to bother lying anymore. He wanted the truth.
"Jane, I love you. Whatever is going on, whatever trouble you are in, no matter what happens, I will still love you. Please, please, if you really love me, please tell me the truth. What is really going on? What happened?"
I broke down. Everything came spilling out. From the first little fix of an expense, to the torture I'd been forced to endure. He asked me questions, then started getting more details from me about things I thought totally unimportant. Then he put some ointment on my back, telling me it would ameliorate the hurt. It did, stinging at first, then a delicious coolness spread all over. After that came some painkillers and sleeping pills, and then bed.
For the next two days, I lay in bed, slept, and had my back, bottom, and thighs anointed with various substances. The constant supply of painkillers left me rather fuzzy and lethargic. My husband never let me do a damned thing, even when I felt fit enough to at least sit unaided. Telling me not to be stupid, he said that if we were careful and didn't stretch or damage the skin any worse, I might not have scars. That was supposed to make me feel better, but I was in no mood for small palliatives. He asked me questions, many of them, about what Dick had made me do, about Cindy, about Tanya, and about how I felt all the way through. He seemed fascinated by my admissions, and by what I'd done. There was also something deep behind his eyes, something he didn't want me to see, and it scared the hell out of me. It reminded me a bit of what the ugly brute looked like when he'd told Dick to allow my whipping to continue.
John insisted that I follow through on my Wednesday trip to Dick's. I didn't want to. I wanted to leave, to run away. I wanted to sell our house, quit my job, and go hide somewhere. John wouldn't hear of it. That's when I realized that I didn't really know my husband, didn't really know the man I married.
We met when I was a junior in college. I was getting over my ex boyfriend at the time. John was a labourer - rough, good looking, dressed for hard work, but much more civil and polite than his co-workers. He noticed my looks, and invited himself to my table, and to a cup of coffee. His jokes and witty conversation made me feel much better, even though I hadn't been looking for company. He also never asked for my last name, or my phone number, or address, and never offered to walk me home. That, I really appreciated, since that made it a nice, one-time, totally random, nothing more to it, lunch.
Two weeks later I saw him in another restaurant. He was at another table, again with some of his co-workers, and saw me. He waved, so I smiled back in recognition. He never came over to my table, which is what I was half hoping for and half dreading. When he was leaving, he stopped for just a few seconds to say high, nice to see you, bye. And left.
A week later, back at the first restaurant, I saw him again. He was sitting alone, as was I. He saw me looking, waved, and I smiled back. Since he didn't move, I did. We had another wonderful lunch, and I gave him my phone number, unasked. He'd made quite an impression on me. I could tell by his conversation that, despite the fact that he worked as a carpenter's apprentice, he'd been to a university somewhere, and was smarter than most of the jerks in my classes.
So the labourer and the business major started dating. We went to a few parties, we went to some nightclubs, we went to some dances. He was protective of me, guarded me well, but didn't smother me. He also let me know, without saying anything outright, that if I wanted out, at any time, he'd just leave, and that would be that. One thing he never did do was to tell me of his past. He said his parents were dead, victims of a drunk driver, that his brother was also dead, victim of a boating accident, and that his sister had vanished one day without a trace. He had no family, and, apparently, no history in town, since all his friends were recent. He did admit to moving here rather suddenly, and to having a little more than a high school education. Other than that, and declaring that he was almost exactly two years older than me, nothing.
Two and a half years later, one year and one month after my graduation, we were married. I was a virgin bride.
Wednesday at work was worse than I'd thought possible. Dirty Dick, the Dastardly Dipstick, Demanded a Deepthroat job first thing in the morning. I had to be nude, and he ran his hands all over my very tender back, bottom, and legs. That blew my concentration, and I let a bit of his spend dribble out. He considered it three drops worth, so he gave me what he considered three very light blows with his belt. I quite literally collapsed because of the pain. He left me alone to recover, not offering to help in the least.
All through the day, I couldn't sit for more than a few minutes without having to get up and move, just to relieve the burning. Word quickly spread around the office that something was wrong, but I ignored everyone's attempts to find out what. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.
Dick drove us out to his place. He was in a gleeful, talkative mood, and seemed willing to expound upon anything I wanted. I asked him about me and the expense account.
The dirty bastard told me outright that I'd been set up, that he and John's boss were pals, and that my husband's hours had been tailored to Dick's desires. The same went with the expense account bit. I was given the responsibility because he knew I needed the money and I was susceptible. Then he'd waited to spring his trap. There had been no inquiries from the accounting office at all.
He'd lied to me. Lied! Everything he'd ever said became apocryphal. Now it was too late for any worries, according to him, because I was his, completely and totally, and there was no way he was going to let me go. At least, not until the five years were up.
Another thing he told me was that I would be his 'special intangible benefit' for securing a number of difficult contracts. He had been using Tanya, but said it would be easier for him to use me from then on, and I'd better get used to it. He said he'd even share thirty percent of his commissions with me! The unfeeling bastard!
I began to wonder if I shouldn't just dump my husband, my job, and everything else, and run away, if only to save my life and my sanity. Thoughts of losing John, and losing Cindy, almost made break down and start crying again. There was no way I could do that, I thought.
There was only one guest at Dick's place that night, but he made up for his singularity by being the biggest, ugliest, crudest looking gorilla I'd ever seen. The monster had to be seven feet tall and four hundred pounds. He looked bigger than those actors you see in professional wrestling! And ugly! Once upon a time, he might have been decent looking. A face full of scars, brands, and tattoos, had changed him into a personification of horror. Multiple layers of ripped, dirty, smelly clothing completed the picture.
We had dinner. Tanya was cooking, and I was serving. He only pinched me once, stopping after I screamed and collapsed in pain. He'd hit one of those severe spots. I managed to finish serving, after a short period of recovery.
He and Dirty Dick disappeared for a while after dinner, so Tanya and I cleaned up and talked a bit. It turned out that she'd seen the guy around a few times, and he seemed to be in a class all by himself. She said he used the women Dick offered, but never went out of his way to be cruel or vicious. I guess that pinch could have been a bit of ignorant fun. At any other time, it probably would have been nothing more than annoying and momentarily painful.
When they came back, they watched videos for a while. Dick had me suck him off, while Tanya sucked off the new guy. Cindy walked in around eight, and Dick immediately told us to put on a show for the Sasquatch.
Dick looked me in the eye and said "You'd better try and put a little more into this performance than you did the last one. That's part of the reason why you got hurt so bad. You disappointed a couple of the gentlemen that night."
Cindy hadn't been as successful as I'd thought.
She undressed, slowly and provocatively. Then she undressed me, very carefully. I heard a hiss of indrawn breath when my back was bared, and again when my skirt was removed. I wasn't wearing bra, panties, or hose because of the pain, so there wasn't much to take off. I suspected that any dilatory moves on my part would have been cause for punishment, from one or the other of them, so I let Cindy have her way with me with no complaints or interference. There was no way I was going to do, or not do, anything that would give them an excuse to further damage my body.
Cindy and I began to kiss. Or rather, she started kissing me, and when her tongue got busy, and I felt her breasts on mine, and felt her hands wandering around on my front, I tuned out our audience and I got into the kiss. I definitely liked the feel of her back, which was so soft, with all those hard little ripples underneath, and of her bottom, which was also soft and pliable, yet with a sudden and surprising core of steel at times.
We slowly collapsed to the floor, her first, with me following, to land on top of her. Our leg s scissored,m y hands foundher breast s,the kiss caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
We kissed, I held her breasts, played with her nipples, my mound rubbed against hers, and the feelings were so intense, so wonderful, that I climaxed noisily into her mouth. That tongue of hers was busy licking my tonsils at the time, so the sound was rather muted. A few seconds later she came as well, and we held each other in a close embrace, enjoying the aftermath of a quick, intense, fuck.
A moan reminded me of our audience, and I scrambled quickly to my feet.
"Excellent show, sluts. Much better than the last one." Dick's leer was one that I was learning to despise. He turned and looked at his guest. "Which one do you want, Vinnie? Or both, if you feel up to it."
Vinnie's eyes, travelling all over my body, made my skin crawl. Until then, that expression held no meaning for me. I found out what it was like. I shivered, and not because the air was cool.
"That one." Now how did I guess that he'd want the new girl? I must be psychic.
He took me up to one of the bedrooms, stripped himself, and lay on the bed.
"I'll make it easy on you, since you've been worked over a bit. You're gonna suck me off, cunt, then we're gonna fuck. Got it? If you blow me good, I'll let you ride on top. If not ..."
He grinned at me. There were a couple of teeth missing, and several of the others were blackened stumps. His breath stank, and imagining what kissing that mouth would be like almost made me puke right then and there. Besides which, his leer was almost as bad as Dick's.
There was no way I'd survive that four hundred pound monster pounding into me, so I was determined to give him the blowjob of a lifetime. Or, at least, of my lifetime, if he didn't like it. I didn't particularly like the guy, even though he hadn't really done anything to me to that point. It's just that everyone around Dick, other than us slaves, seemed to be macho, hedonistic, misogynistic, pigs.
He was a little bigger than Dick, but not much, so I had only a little bit of pain taking him down my throat. He was decidedly smaller than my husband. I sucked and slurped and licked and sucked some more, all the while playing with his balls and ass. He stank, and he tasted gross, like he hadn't washed in a month. I nearly threw up on him, but managed to suppress the urge. Somehow it didn't seem like something he'd appreciate. I did let a drop or so of his semen leak out of my mouth, but he appeared to like that touch, unlike Dick. He used a finger to wipe it up and then had me lick his finger clean.
That's when it happened. The door flew open with a bang, and standing in the opening was a man dressed all in black, wearing a full-faced black ski mask. Vinnie froze, the shout I saw him preparing dying stillborn in his throat. Looking down the bore of a sawed-off shotgun would tend to do that to even the strongest and stupidest person. I froze, totally petrified. My scream came out as nothing more that a tiny squeak of fear.
"Shows over. Mr. Small is now out of business. If you're smart, you'll leave while you can. If you're stupid, and try something, we'll bury you and him in the same grave. Capish?"
Slowly and carefully, Vinnie nodded. He stood up, got dressed, and was escorted out of the room. The man with the gun made sure to stay well out of lunging range. When Vinnie went to grab me, the man said "Leave the pussy. We'll have a use for it later."
About ten minutes later, a man came into the room (Same guy? Different guy? I couldn't tell with those black masks), followed by Cindy. She was dressed and carrying my clothes. He left us there, shaking in our shared fear. I got dressed in a hurry, just in case they changed their minds. She had no more idea of who the men were than I did. The man came back and escorted us down to the dining room.
Dick was there, tied up, swearing and cursing to himself and anyone else in listening range about how he was gonna get them, how he'd blow their fuckin' brains out, and how he'd spit on their twitching corpses. Pleasant fellow. Tanya was also there, although she wasn't saying anything, and seemed to be trying to disappear into a corner. Two of the black-clad men escorted Dirty Dick out the door. The remaining man spoke.
"You," he said, pointing at Cindy, "and you," pointing at Tanya, "get the fuck out of here. You," he said again, pointing at me, "stay put, and don't say a goddamn word."
I couldn't have spoken if I'd wanted to. I was in shock! I recognized that voice! I knew it intimately! John! My God!
Cindy and Tanya both left in a hurry, and gave me looks of true sympathy. I believed they were imagining all kinds of horrible fates for me.
"Stay here until I get back!" John turned and followed the women out the door.
It was four long, frightening hours before John returned. He was still wearing the mask, but since he'd revealed himself, I knew what to look for and could recognize the shape of him.
"Don't say a single word, woman. Not a word! Understand!?"
No, I didn't understand. I was confused as hell! I wanted to cry, to yell, to demand answers, but nothing came out. I nodded.
He walked over to one wall, examined it very carefully, then blew a hole in it with the shotgun. I screamed, almost jumping out of my skin, almost passing out with fright. There was a bit of smoke, and the sounds of something electrical dying, but little else. He blew two more holes before he seemed satisfied. Both produced the same sizzles and sparks.
"There," he said. "That takes care of the snoops, at least in this room." He took off his mask, put down the gun, and gave me a kiss. I almost fainted, again.
"I'll explain everything later. Right now, we've got a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it in. Just do as I say and don't waste time by asking questions. All right?"
I guess I was numb by then. I nodded.
He put the mask back on, grabbed the gun, and motioned for me to follow. Outside, there was a small truck that I didn't recognize. He handed me some folded down boxes, a roll of packing tape, and a small pair of scissors. He picked up some sport-type bags and some more boxes. We went back into the house. He told me to fix up the boxes, so I did.
He read some notes from a small pocketbook, then walked over to a picture on the wall. Still reading, he opened the safe behind it. Whatever was in there, he put into one of the bags.
He did the same to another safe in a bedroom. Then to another one in the drawing room. Then he opened up some sort of secret door behind a bookcase in the library (Gawd, who'd believe something that corny happened in real life!). Behind it was a fairly large room, alive with video equipment, monitors, and racks and racks of VHS tapes. Hundreds of them! He had me box up every single one and carry them into the truck. There were also four different journals, and he put those into one of his bags. The tapes that were in the machines followed.
Checking his book again, he pulled out a tape rack. Behind it was one of those huge old-time safes, the ones you see in the old westerns. It had three different dials and two handles. Even with his notes, it took John fifteen minutes and a half-dozen tries to get the thing open. And when he did, I almost fainted again. It was half full of money! Stacks and bundles of fifties! My mind conjured up totals in the millions, even though I knew that was a practical impossibility.
Well, John filled up most of his bags with money, leaving a few bundles strewn about, as though whomever had been there was in too much of a rush to bother picking up the spillings. Later, I found out that each bundle was worth five thousand dollars. He left forty thousand lying on the floor, waiting for someone to notice it. He also took the three books, the papers, the small satchel, and everything else in there. Then we left.
Like I said, that was about two years ago.
John still hasn't told me anything about his past. Occasionally I still work on him.
First, Dirty Dick. My husband says that he (John) isn't a killer or murderer, and neither were his friends, the ones I'd never seen before, and he says I probably never will again. Dick was taken to a place, and given to a group of people, who John said were happy with his talents. He said there were lots of men there - then said that in fact, despite appearances, there were only men there, and Butch and Brucie were common nicknames. They almost all liked leather and chains and whips and stuff like that. He claimed that we'd never see Dick again.
About a month or so ago, John said that Dick was finally starting to adjust to his new surroundings. He said something about tattoos and piercings, but then started getting a little too graphic and gross for me, so I stopped listening. I hope Dirty Dick absolutely hates his new life. The miserable bastard.
Next, the money. Well, we ended up with six hundred and forty thousand dollars. Cash. That's after John gave each of his friends fifty grand, and the group of men who have Dick fifty grand as well. Wow.
The books and journals. Dirty Dick was into blackmail and all kinds of other nasty stuff. We had the evidence, we had the names, we had the payment schedules - we had everything. For those that deserved it, we continued the extortion. That nets us ten grand a month, down considerably from the thirty Dick was pulling in. We're just a pair of softies.
The tapes. There were a lot of tapes. Dick had been a prolific producer of material, both for his protection and for his enrichment. Some of them, especially the ones featuring Dick and his various cohorts having their meetings, we bundled up and mailed to the FBI, anonymously, from two states over. Others, we burned. Still others we kept, and watch from time to time.
Not too long after that, there was a very public retrial. Apparently, some woman had been framed by a group of unsavory businessmen. Fancy that. I wonder where her lawyers got their new evidence from?
Work. Dick had enough blackmail material against Mr. Dougherty, the C.E.O. of the company I work for, to put him away for the next couple of centuries. I ended up with Dick's old job, a fat pay raise, and a free redecoration of my new office. John now works full time managing our, and other people's, money. He seems to like buying, selling, and investing, and he seems to be pretty good at it, too.
Tim Wakefield and the various other 'clients' of Dirty Dick. Instead of getting a blow job from me, he got fucked (figuratively speaking). I gave him a composite tape of him getting blown by Tanya and several other women I didn't recognize. I then told him our company's rates had gone up twenty percent, and that he was going to sign a five year contract. Fitting, I thought. Apparently, he's more than a little afraid of how his wife and boss would react.
He signed.
The same happened with a few others. None of them seemed to like me very much, especially after I'd told each one that two different lawyers had copies of everything, and in the event of my death, by any cause, they were to send those tapes and journals to the F.B.I. No, I wasn't popular, and yes, we do have copies of everything, one set with a lawyer in L.A. that I contacted, the other set with a lawyer in D.C that John contacted. That was John's idea. Neither one of us knows who the other's lawyer is. Then there's the two redundant sets we keep in storage. Just in case, of course.
Our house. We now live in a semi-secluded seven bedroom Tudor out in suburbia. The outdoor pool is nice. Our privacy fence, so we can skinny dip whenever we like, is nicer. We needed all seven rooms because we converted the largest of them into a theatre/orgy pit. It gets a lot of use. We also have overnight guests quite often, and they use the two spare rooms.
Maids. Both Cindy and Tanya are now, according to the outside world, live-in maids. Cindy's daughter, Penny, lives with us as well, and she thinks her mother is stark raving bonkers. But she does love living in our posh place, and she has her friends from school over frequently for pool parties. As a sixteen year old beauty, she has a lot of friends, of both sexes. Whenever we're not around, they all blithely strip and have skinny dip parties. We know, because John has our place wired almost as well as Dirty Dick's was. I told John, after seeing his reaction to the first tape, that if he ever touched Penny, I'd serve him his balls on a platter. Tanya was a tad more graphic. She said she'd cook them first, then cut them off, then ... well, you get the picture. She's even more jealous of his attentions than I am. Cindy just smiled a rather hard, nasty smile, reminiscent of Dirty Dick at his worst.
Tanya. She got a divorce, uncontested, after she showed her husband the videos of him with other women. The two gorillas we'd hired as bodyguards kept him from blowing his cool. He's now shacked up with some fifteen year old runaway in another state. We've kept tabs. Her five years is up in a couple more months, and she swears that there's no way we'll ever be rid of her. She does things with John that I'd never even imagined possible before watching the tapes from Dirty Dick's place. I couldn't even conceive of me, personally, ever attempting some of those things.
Cindy. Similar story. Steve, her ex, married the secretary. They divorced after she found him with someone else. (Love it, just love it!)
Cindy is absolutely magical. If you noticed the odd slight problem with this story, it's because she's been between my legs the whole afternoon, trying to disturb my concentration. I think she succeeded a time or two. Her fantastic tongue does things to me that nothing and nobody else in this world ever could. I'm planning on getting back at her for all her disturbances later tonight. I won't let her sleep a wink. I may not have her genetic endowment, but I can still send her into another reality.
Her five years ended two months ago. She threatened suicide if we kicked her out of the house. I think she was joking. Of course, I had no intention of ever letting the light of my life get away. John, even though we are still very much in love, understands completely. After all, he feels the same way about Tanya.
The Motel. We still collect up tapes from that place regularly. They make for great Saturday night entertainment, and you'd be amazed at the different people that show up there, for just a few hours. The only time we actually did something with one of the tapes was when we witnessed a rape. We sent the video, anonymously, to the woman, along with a note letting her know that none of the youths who had attacked her knew about the recording. She could do with it whatever she liked.
Our favourite blackmail case. Jennifer is a middle-aged mother of four, a member of the P.T.A., and she's active in her church group. The footage we have of her and that prime beef stud in the motel room fills three two-hour tapes. We watch them regularly because they are very hot. She was paying Dick two hundred a month to keep him from showing the videos to her husband. She has another four payments to go, and then we'll give her the originals.
The tapes of her are fantastic. Personally, at one point I thought her hips had been dislocated, but she didn't even slow down. John says she goes absolutely wild when she watches herself on the big screen, and becomes almost totally insatiable. I'll take his word on that. All I know is that Rick, her husband, seems to grow a half-size longer and thicker whenever we watch the tapes together. Between the two of them, they make enough noise to disturb even our neighbours. They invite themselves over at least twice a month.
John. We still love each other dearly, even though we haven't made physical love for months. A typical session for us was last Sunday morning. We woke up in our custom-made oversized bed. He kissed me, then I kissed him, and we became rather passionate. Then we became very passionate, with hands running all over each other. My first climax came while I was sucking his tongue into my mouth. I almost swallowed it whole. A short while later, we peaked at almost the same time. He moaned and groaned into my mouth, then started shuddering. I looked down towards our groins, and the sight was enough to send me over as well.
There were two naked bodies down there, heads down, bottoms up. One had her head bobbing up and down on John's member, the other had her mouth fastened to my clit. Tanya and Cindy. They are insatiable.
That's why we need the big bed. The king size we used to have just wasn't big enough for the four of us.
The baby. Yes, we're going to have a baby. We've decided that if it's a boy his name will be Peter John Smith, after my grandfather and his father. If it's a girl, we have a choice. Carla Cynthia Smith, after my grandmother and my favourite woman, or Virginia Denise Smith, after his grandmother and my mother. It's a tough decision. No, there was no miracle, medical or otherwise. Tanya's the one who's getting fatter by the day.
Well, enough of this. I've recorded all the important bits. My fingers are getting tired. And besides, Cindy's getting impatient. Her tongue is now tickling that spot she found, the one only hher tongu ecan reacch.
I llove mynew lifeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
<Fin>
Jane Smith - narrator, principal character. The prim, proper, loving wife. 23, 5'6", 35-22-34, 'C', natural blonde, green eyes, gorgeous. John Smith - Debbie's husband, the man with the mysterious past. 25, 6'2", 9 1/2" & thick, blonde, blue eyes. Tall, with lots of lean, hard muscles. Richard Small - The bastard boss, the blackmailer. 42, 5'9", 8" & not as thick, black hair, pencil moustache, evil, leering, dark brown eyes, slight paunch. Cindy (Cynthia) Darling - The victim, the mother, the one with the stupid husband, the woman that likes licking pussy. 39, 5'4", 38-25-37, 'DD', brunette, light brown eyes, great figure kept in trim by lots of exercise and sexercise, long, long legs. Penny (Penelope) Darling - Cindy's daughter. Very pretty. Honour student, cheerleader. 14, 5'5", 32-22-33, 'B', light brunette, pale brown eyes, slender. Perfect butt, long (very long) legs. Steve Darling - Cindy's stupid husband. The one having an affair with his secretary, the affair everyone knows about, the one they think is such a big secret. Tanya Tange - The other victim, the one that loves cock. Her husband is an abusive jerk with a violent temper. 19, 5'9", 35-24-36, 'B', very long black hair, very dark brown eyes, cover girl face. Tight, fit, beautiful. Sunbathes in the nude as often as she can get away with it. Cliff Tange - Tanya's husband. 25, 5'11", 235 lbs. He beats her on occasion, especially if he can smell another man on her. Likes motorcycles and young teens. Mr. Dougherty - the president and C.E.O. of the company Jane and Dick work at. Tim Wakefield - Senior V.P. of the company's biggest customer - an arrogant, chauvinistic pig of a man, demanding and demeaning at the same time.