by Dan Bruce
“Just do it. And don’t be in a rush to finish! I want more than your normal five minutes worth.”
Emily was already on the floor. She pulled off her thong and cast it aside then hitched up her skirt and pulled it over her ass which she invitingly stuck out, parting her legs, desperately waiting for her husband to fuck her. It took Les an infuriating amount of time to get an erection, but he eventually rose to the occasion. Emily gasped when he finally entered her pussy, although her relief was dampened by the niggling regret that he hadn’t acted boldly and took the opportunity to try something new by putting his cock inside her virginal asshole, or at least tease it with a finger. But she soon cast this aside as she urged him on to fuck her harder and harder, swaying her hips and bucking back at him every time he thrust into her slavering cunt.
To give him credit, Les made a fair fist of it compared to his normal pedestrian rides, but he couldn’t let himself totally go. As he pumped in and out of Emily’s ravenous pussy, he was muffling his grunts so as not to be heard by the neighbours; his upbringing in the Valleys having instilled such modesty. Emily decided she needed muffling as well and grabbed hold of Les’s hand and placed it over her mouth. Les assumed she was using it to curb her own whorish moans which he was forcing out through this better than normal performance.
But it goes without saying that wasn’t the case.
Emily was adding some reality to the fantasy which she was creating in her mind, that instead of her husband who had been cajoled into having doggy style sex in their lounge, she was being forcibly taken in some seedy location by a bigger, stronger, much better endowed man. A man who slapped her and tanned her ass as his cock ploughed into her orgasmic cunt; a man who yelled at her and called her filthy names as he took advantage of the other hole on offer and rammed his fat shaft into her virginal guts, making her howl as he growled out his climax and filled her bowels with his spunk.
Ten minutes it lasted. Twice as long as normal, so Les did well. He felt really pleased with himself at the end. But Emily was left far from satisfied and needed a shower to finish the job in her newly adopted way: bringing herself off with a finger up her ass and others frigging her pussy, recalling that dream that seemed so real when she wet the bed with her juices.
Then later that night when the lights were off Emily wet the bed again. She wet it with her tears as she fell asleep, disgusted with herself, and the crumbling of what she saw as the fabric of her life.
Chapter 4
The next elevator incident happened three days later, on a Friday – the end of the working week. It was much of the same – the man was there alone waiting for her, confidently grinning, oozing his musk like an antler bearing stag.
Now that went way beyond freakish co-incidence as far as Emily was concerned! She was mightily disturbed, wondering how he knew when she worked late, as it was hardly something publically announced with an e-mail going round to all and sundry. But he clearly knew - the man was never there on other days when Emily used the elevator with her co-workers. She wondered if there was a hidden camera monitoring the floor or some bugging device that the man used.
The man!
Strangely enough, that’s all Emily had to term him – ‘the man’. There was no official name she had to give him. A few subtle enquiries had been made as to his identity, but nothing was turned up; and Emily didn’t dare dig any deeper, for that would draw the attention of Human Resources, and the last thing she wanted was Tessa Clifford to get wind of Emily taking an interest in a male member of staff. Especially this one – the man in the elevator!
But Emily preferred to give labels to the significant others in her life – Ancient Greek deities being her theme, which she thought rather clever...
Her father was ‘Uranus’ which might not sound too cerebral – a bit crude in fact, and not something expected from a woman as refined as Emily Johnson. She had her reasons though - the old bugger was certainly an asshole in Emily’s opinion, so the title fitted well in a vulgar way. But Uranus was also a god who banished the children that did not please him; and emotional banishment was the curse that Emily’s cold and aloof father bestowed on his younger daughter. Emily liked to joke with her smarter set that this was ‘your anus’ who didn’t give a shit!
Her mother was ‘Chaos’ which was rather unkind. She was actually quite organised, not chaotic in the slightest. But she was dominated by her husband and never protected her needy daughter, so Emily bore a grudge there as well, and had no bones about the slight which was still pretty apt. In classical terms, Chaos was the nothingness from which all else sprang – nothingness was the mother in the marital sense, who did the world a favour by bearing Emily, who naturally was everything in her self-centred world.
Her elder sister received many titles, ‘nasty bitch’ and ‘evil witch’ being the main ones Emily bestowed on big sister Nicola, so ‘Hecate’ the patron of witches might have been a good choice. But Emily settled on ‘Momus’ the little known god of satire, mockery and unfair criticism. As you can probably guess – Emily and her older sister never got on very well - in fact they hated each other’s guts!
Les she referred to as ‘Hermes’ the god of travel, thievery and cunning – the god of writing as well which was nearer to the mark, but that was not the reason Emily bestowed upon Les this title. As it happens, Hermes was also the god of herds and flocks – and it was a standing joke amongst the English elite that Welshmen from the Valleys were forever shagging sheep – another joke she like to share with her bitchy smarter set.
But what of ‘the man’ who had no other name? In moments of reflection when she considered this person, and increasingly there were many, Emily found the term ‘Dark Tormentor’ cropping up, for that certainly was what he was. So ‘Eris’ might fit well – the goddess of strife and discord. Yet to the classically educated Emily Johnson, such a description was too simple. Had she not learned in Greek mythology that the world must sit in balance and all arrogance would be punished by vengeful Fate? That was the job of a particular bitch goddess, and ‘Nemesis’ was her name.
It took her a while, but Emily eventually got there - seeing this man as a living embodiment of divine retribution that was making her pay for her unquestionable arrogant sins. And that was the name that buzzed through Emily’s brain when she had stood at the elevator contemplating whether to call for it or not. But as Fate cannot be avoided, the elevator had to be summoned, and naturally the man was there.
Her Nemesis!
Despite it being spooky, it had come as no surprise to see him when the elevator door opened - Her Nemesis incarnate. Emily quickly noted his presence then got in. It had never occurred to her that perhaps she could have left the office by another means - taken the stairs, or left by the service elevator. Why should she? That would be cowardly. And perhaps this was her fate!
Whatever! Emily would not be intimidated. She was determined that she was going to show this man that he didn’t affect her – that she could rise above his confident taunts; that she was immune to his musk and alpha-male aura, and was unmoved by his hunky rugged good looks, which Emily refused to acknowledge were becoming more and more appealing. The man was an uncouth lout; how could Emily possibly be attracted to him? She would prove that the man meant nothing to her if it was the last thing she did. So she got into the elevator and pressed the ‘LOBBY’ button then stood with her back to him, her head held high.
Emily waited. She was sure of her poise. She had heard all the man’s filth, and had not reacted the previous time – what could he possibly say that would affect her today. Nothing! Of that Mrs. Johnson was certain. ‘Nemesis be damned!’ she thought. It was only a fabrication that everyone got their just deserts – a story used by teachers to frighten little schoolgirls.
Perhaps!
But again, then perhaps not, as retribution has a knack of taking you by surprise...
“So tell me, Blondie - did he make you come on Tuesday evening?” the man casually asked. “You
know the time I mean – after we last met, when you rushed home and got him to fuck you on the floor like a dog!”
Emily froze, shocked at the insight. She tried to disguise her fright and bizarre arousal, but the sharp intake of breath betrayed her.
There was a derisory sneer. “I thought as much. And he didn’t... Did he? You were kneeling on the floor thinking of me, but still you didn’t come. He must be a really lousy fuck, that husband of yours. What is it? Is his cock too small? Does he treat you like a princess when deep down you’re a dirty whore? Does he always shoot inside you instead of coming over your face? Or do you make him wear a condom just to be safe... safe....... safe...........”
Emily spun around. Her nostrils were flaring. She raised her right hand as if to strike him but instead she placed it over her ear, her left hand flying up to cover the other.
“Shut up! Shut up!!! I’ve had enough of this. I’ll...”
The man interrupted Emily with a laugh.
“I’ll...” Emily croaked.
“You’ll what?” the man mocked. “Tell on me? Go running to your boss and have me sacked? I don’t think so, Blondie. All I did was make a pass at you, and I’m sure I’m not the first bloke to have admired that lovely ass of yours – you certainly make a point of flaunting it around the office with the tight skirts you always wear... A pass, that’s all. Anything else would be my word against yours. And you still get in the elevator when you see that I’m here. I’d say that was encouragement. Wouldn’t you? So don’t you go telling tales, Blondie! Save your pretty mouth for sucking my dick.”
He smirked at Emily and stuck a finger in his mouth, pushing out his cheek in a crude simulation of fellatio. Emily blushed at the display then she looked away, infuriated that the man was right about one thing at least. There was no way she could now report this without incriminating herself.
Fuming with rage, Emily tried to pull herself together. She could hear slurping noises behind her, as the man continued to gobble on his finger. Emily refused to look round, again determined to ignore the despicable ill-mannered lout. Thankfully for Emily, the rest of the ride was otherwise uneventful, and again they parted ways in the lobby - the man laughing softly, Emily shaking violently – infuriated, yet oddly excited.
At home that night Emily sucked her husband off. This was a singular event indeed! Emily rarely gave head – even in their heyday, during the honeymoon and the few months after, Les’s cock was seldom in Emily’s mouth. Blowjobs were a treat and were always kept brief – a quick suck as some foreplay then she prised him away. Les would have liked her to do a lot more, but he never pushed, because that would be uncouth – and he’d married a princess, not a cock sucking whore. On the odd occasions when she indulged him, Emily was always in control – SHE sucked HIM – Les did NOT fuck her mouth. And NEVER EVER was he allowed to come that way. Emily would have given him his balls for breakfast if he’d tried to empty them in her mouth. She had a real aversion to spunk – at least to taking it orally; although recently she seemed insatiable about having it squirted into her pussy!
So this sudden impulse to have a gobble at his cock came as something of a surprise to hubby, Les. When Emily pulled back the covers and attacked his flaccid dick, Les asked her what was up. Emily told him that she was feeling a little naughty and that he should thank his lucky stars. Les happily accepted this and it wasn’t long before he was hard as a rock.
Emily sucked him with an enthusiasm she had never shown before. Starting with Les lying flat on the bed, she got between his legs and worked on the head, running her tongue all around the glans and even daring to prod it into his piss slit. She took all of him in, the cockhead knocking at the entrance to her throat as she sucked on the entirety of his shaft. Then she climbed off the bed and had Les sit on the edge so she could suck on his meat as she knelt before him!
Now that was more than a rarity – that had never happened. Kneeling before her husband was not something Emily had ever done. So was this a treat for Les as thanks for his devotion – for four years of married fidelity and pampering to her whims?
Hardly!
As Emily sucked her husband’s cock in this submissive position, she was thinking all the while about Her Nemesis, imagining the taste of his cock in her mouth, imagining the size and the feel of it swelling out her cheeks, and the glans invading her throat. She bobbed up and down imagining her head was stationary, held firmly by Her Nemesis’s strong manly hands while he thrust at her mouth and fucked her gullet, smashing her nose with his hairy pubis.
Oblivious to this deception, Les got happily blown and it wasn’t long before he was ready to shoot. “Emily! Emily! You have to stop! I’m going to come!” he cried in warning.
Emily carried right on, ignoring the plea and the annoyance she felt over the pathetic reaction. Les tried to push her away, but his heart wasn’t in it and Emily plunged back down, sucking his cock all the harder.
“Oh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh!” Les moaned. Then a moment later his balls erupted.
Emily pulled back so that only Les’s glans was in her mouth. She felt the first blast lash at her tongue and splash around her palate. She was revolted. Emily could never bear to have cum in her mouth. The first time she allowed it she had been physically sick – after that she vowed never again. Yet here she was accepting a portion, and a generous one at that – Les was gushing the stuff out like a manic fountain. The flavour and the texture of Les’s semen almost made her retch. Yet she held her husband’s cockhead in her mouth and took every drop that he squirted out and swallowed it down like a greedy little cum slut.
And in her mind that cum belonged to another. Nemesis wasn’t the only bitch at play that day, and arrogance wasn’t the only sin that needed avenging. Emily rewarded her husband’s love and devotion with a sickening betrayal through this very dubious treat.
Say hello to ‘Apate’ the goddess of deceit.
Over the next few weeks there were further elevator incidents. The frequency increased as Emily stayed late more often. She deluded herself and blamed Her Nemesis tormentor for this. The man was distracting Emily’s thoughts during the day, so the extra hours were needed as her efficiency was affected. Why else would she be staying late?
As always he would be there, confidently smirking, oozing his musk and some primal aura that had no business being active in the metro-sexual age. And of course he was always alone in the elevator which Emily had summoned – big and hunky, irritatingly handsome in his loutish, rugged way – he seemed to get more attractive with each passing day. And as always Emily got in and accepted his abuse, battling with the temptation to feast her eyes and look. Each tirade grew raunchier than the ones before. Emily’s ears turned red at the foulness of the man’s words, the depravity of the suggestions, and most of all, the shame that she felt for listening and saying nothing more against Her Nemesis’s taunts.
Each time Emily left the elevator, she was shaking with fury, and much to her consternation she was wet around the gusset – her pussy shockingly aroused. And each evening her fantasies were infused with a throbbing phallus – a tormenting cock filling her orifices, spraying her body with ribbons of spunk to the sounds of loutish verbal filth. She got Les to fuck her almost every night. She became insatiable – a ravenous beast that hungered for cock, but of course it wasn’t Les’s that she really yearned for.
In the shower Emily would masturbate, morning and night, dreaming of the elevator and of a mysterious changing room with a shower used by men somewhere in the basement of the office block where she worked. She dreamed that she was in that shower being fucked against the wall: taken from behind standing squashed into the tiles; then taken from the front with her legs wrapped around a waist, getting slapped and spat at, getting gloriously screwed. She would simulate the act, panting out her need, frigging her pussy and frigging her ass, playing with her clit and her little pink anus, wishing it was the man, Her Nemesis, who was mauling her and making her come so incredibly hard.
It was shameful behaviour, but unbelievably exciting – and deep in her heart Emily knew that fickle Fate was heading towards only one conclusion.
Chapter 5
About a month after the first incident, Emily worked late again. And again the dark sultry man was waiting for her in the elevator. She knew he would be there. It had become a routine – Emily would work late and the man would be in the elevator when she called it, always alone, patiently waiting. Emily would look him over, showing disdain, and hiding her attraction to the raw physicality of his rugged bearing. Then she would stand facing away, clutching her bag with both hands at the front, breathing of him deeply, her eyes closed so she could visualise better the image that had just burned her brain. On the journey down the man would verbally abuse her, outlining despicable filth. He would taunt her with suggestions that were hideously debasing, promising to subject Emily to humiliating acts – fucking her up the ass being his favourite, but far from the only one. The man pushed her and pushed her, appalling her sensitivity, yet Emily always came back – hating the man with a passion, and wanting him even more.
But on this occasion the routine was broken. The infuriatingly handsome hunk that now dominated Emily’s every thought, surprisingly remained quiet. Emily breathed him in as the elevator commenced its descent, waiting for the verbal onslaught that didn’t come. The silence was disturbing- eerie like a graveyard and just as chilling. She was tempted to turn round and face him – surrender just the once, and treat her eyes to another look at his stunning manliness. This wasn’t right - this deviance from the norm that Emily had come to hunger for. Why was he acting so strangely? The man’s silence had more torment than the foul language he used when he spoke to her.
Emily felt a sudden panic as her mind raced with possibilities. Had he got bored of the game? Had Emily won the battle of wills that had been fought over the past month? Surely he must know that deep in her core she didn’t want the victory – that there was a blossoming part of her psyche that wanted to lose and surrender completely!