On reflection, he bought Esther some earrings as well.
He showed them to his mate, Charlie, at work.
'Guilty as sin,' Charlie said cheerfully. 'Never give them presents, it's a dead give-away! Go home and give her a good hot-rodding and she'll never suspect. Though if I had a wife like yours I wouldn't be bowling my balls at anybody else's wicket anyway.'
Kevin couldn't bear to waste his hard-earned money, however, and gave the presents to Esther.
'That's so clever of you!' Esther exclaimed. 'Honey, I'll wear them to the Mansell's. How did you know I was so fed up with my old ones?'
Kevin blushed guiltily.
The Mansell's party was everything Kevin thought it would be. The house was huge, and the dinner party consisted of ten couples who baited each other in the correct pecking order throughout the meal. Esther, bless her, was wearing a bright red dress made of something stretchy which, he thought, looking around the room reflectively, would have looked tacky on any other woman present. On Esther it looked a million dollars, and everyone knew it. He was feeling very protective, very aroused, and very, very confused.
Frank Brachlyn was next to her - whether by accident or design Kevin couldn't work out - and she played him like an ace. Kevin listened unashamedly as she teased, bluffed, and conned her way through all six courses without giving her hand away, and without compromising him, either. Wow, some girl, he thought proudly.
As the evening wore on the wine made him mellow, and as Esther was otherwise engaged, he made himself very pleasant to the elderly female next to him.
'You must make up the numbers in our Ascot party,' she invited him enthusiastically, not realising that he hadn't yet quite attained the inner circle. Ascot! The firm paid for it all; the train, the champagne, the tickets. Ascot! He agreed with alacrity and buttered her up some more.
The next day his boss found out that his own boss's wife had invited Kevin to Ascot, and wondered what they saw in the creep that he had missed. Kevin shortly found himself in his boss's office.
'I've been thinking about your career,' his boss boomed with jovial condescension. 'I think it's time you took up another level of responsibility, my man. Join the team, so to speak.'
'Kevin, that's wonderful!' Esther exclaimed that evening. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 'I'm so proud of you!'
The next day when he went home he found she'd bought a bottle of wine for them to celebrate with. He'd never seen her like this. She sparkled. She took his shoes off and kissed his toes, which unexpectedly sent immediate signals to other regions. Bloody hell, he thought, looking down at her short curls. He rather liked her new haircut now he'd got used to it.
Then she smiled up at him with innocent trust before slowly and sensuously removing everything else he was wearing, and giving him the best massage he'd had in a long time. On the rug in the living room. He lay there enjoying this unexpected treat, and thanking the stars that his skin had reverted to its normal hue.
'Kevin?'
'Yes?' He was wallowing in the feel of her hands teasing his tense shoulders, and didn't look up.
'Can I ask you something?'
'What, honey?'
'Do you fancy me?'
He was shocked. He rolled over. 'Fancy you? What on earth do you mean? You're my wife.'
'I mean,' she hung her head, 'do you still want me as a woman. Not just a wife.'
He stared up at her. 'God, honey,' he said, realising it was true, 'right now I could fuck the pants off you.'
She blushed prettily.
'Oh, perhaps I shouldn't have said that,' he apologised. 'It was crude.'
'It's okay,' she soothed. 'That's what I wanted to know. I was afraid...'
He gave her a big hug. 'I love you all ways, honey. In bed you're wonderful, and out of bed you're terrific.' He saw a look of miserable indecision forming. 'Come on, out with it honey. If there's something bothering you, tell me. After all this time we have no secrets, have we?'
'Well,' she went on, 'I do have this fantasy... You're not going to hate me, are you?'
'Of course not. What fantasy?'
'Sort of... oh,' she flushed to the roots of her hair. 'I have this fantasy that a man comes in during the day, and rapes me.'
'Hurts you?'
'Not hurt, rape, you idiot,' she said, somewhat more sharply than she intended.
'But that's the same thing, isn't it?' He was confused.
'Of course it isn't. Fantasy rape is about being desirable, attractive, wanted so badly that a man can't help himself; when some attractive hulk comes in and seduces you with serious intent. You're forced, but inside it's Okay. because the person who's doing it is sympathetic and wants you because you're wonderful, not because you're female and available. That's what makes it different from real rape.'
'What are you saying, honey?'
She hung her head even more, and whispered. 'I'd like you to make my fantasy come true.'
'What?' he gasped. 'You want me to rape you?'
'Yes, well, play-act it. You know.'
He really was taken aback. 'Damn it, it's a bit... I don't know whether...'
'Oh, it doesn't matter. Forget I ever said anything.'
'No, honey.' He raised himself on one elbow and fished harder for understanding. 'You mean, you want me to come in here pretending to be someone else and - and force myself on you?'
Esther nodded. 'Yes,' she said meekly, 'that's about it.'
'Why?' he asked, somewhat indignantly. 'Isn't it good enough straight?'
'Yes, but...'
He was hurt and confused. 'But, what?'
'Oh, I don't know.'
Then her hands were on him, and he couldn't think of anything else but the need to make love to this strange wife of his.
The next day at work he asked Charlie, 'Does your wife ever have fantasies?'
Charlie laughed. 'All the bloody time, mate!'
'I mean, sexual fantasies.'
'What other kind is there?'
'And that's all right with you?'
'Tell you what. If you're bothered, tell me what the fantasy is,' he winked, 'and I'll go see to it for you. Then you can do my missus some time.'
Kevin nearly hit him - then he began to think. Perhaps it wasn't so wrong for her to have fantasies; he sure as hell did - and then some. He just hadn't expected it, that was all.
But what should he do? Should he just go in and pounce one day, her knowing it was him? Would she pretend she didn't know, or should he wear a hood? How in heaven's name did you play a game like that?
Yet, despite his uncertainty, the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. Creeping into the house, tying her up, maybe. Should he do that? Yeah, probably. However, the thought of her knowing it was him spoiled it. He just couldn't bear the thought of it all going wrong, and for her to reject him because the fantasy had not been the experience she anticipated.
His brow furrowed in thought.
Perhaps it would be better if it wasn't quite what she expected. Not hurt her, exactly, but put her off from thinking things like that again before the silly girl ended up getting hurt for real.
He began to think of some of the things the dominatrix had done to him. He wondered about gags; she'd probably scream otherwise. He wondered about restraints; were they necessary? He'd had all sorts of leather gismos used on him - not counting the whip. But then, she was a woman; he was, perforce, stronger. A woman would have to think about how to quickly restrain a man to make him less of a threat. To a man, a woman was not a threat, really. He could overpower her without tying her down at all.
Recalling the delicious sense of vulnerability he'd felt at the mysterious woman's hands, however, he decided restraints were an important part of the whole thing - definitely necessary. Almost subconsciously he began to plan, and as he planned he got more interested in the idea. Just thinking about it turned him on something rotten.
'If you really were going to do a fantasy thing o
n your wife, what would you do?' he eventually asked Charlie.
His mate grinned. 'Who said anything about "if"? The unexpected always works best, I've discovered. Lull them into complacency, let them stew, let them get over the idea, then pounce - you know!'
Kevin blushed, suddenly feeling inadequate. 'No, I really don't know. I'm not very good at this kind of thing - at least, I don't think I am,' he added doubtfully.
'Well, that's a bloody first,' Charlie said cheerfully. 'Never thought I'd hear Kev the stud say he wasn't good at something.' Charlie was immediately more helpful. 'Now what she'd be thinking is milkman, postman, or some passing stranger to just come in and do her in her own home, see?'
'Really?' Kevin said doubtfully.
'Well, you have to be more clever than that. Home is too easy, too safe. You have to get her somewhere else. That would be the real thrill.'
'Do I?' Kevin wasn't convinced. 'Like where?'
Charlie shrugged. 'Use your imagination. In a wood. In a hotel. To work, it has to be unexpected. She's probably thought of more in-house scenarios than you could in a year: the dustman and the window-cleaner variety, but I bet her horizons haven't broadened past those boundaries yet.'
Kevin was taken aback by Charlie's confident assessing of his wife's fantasising. And he was a bit taken-aback that Charlie was treating it all as though it was so normal. Was it so normal? Was he just being naïve?
'But what if I do it so well that she screams, not realising it's me?' he said eventually.
Charlie chuckled. 'Then you'll probably have the police hauling your arse into a station before your feet touch.
'You have to plan it right. You have to get in there, grab her, and get her immobilised. Then she isn't sure, see? She has to wonder whether it really is you or not for it to work right. But that's what it's all about. That's part of the fun. She wants to be overpowered.'
Kevin was reluctant to do it, he realised. Not because he was afraid to play games - secretly he rather like the idea - but because he was afraid of losing her. What if he really scared her? What if she said stuff about fantasies but couldn't hack it real time? He might disgust her so much he'd lose her. But then, he thought, if she wasn't scared, where was the thrill? And it was her who had asked, so surely she'd thought about the consequences? His mind was working overtime on the project, and the more he thought, the more he realised he couldn't simply let it drop. It was becoming a driving need in him; the thought of giving his own wife a surprise party was eating at him like a canker, taking precedence over any thoughts of any of the bimbos he had vaguely been thinking of seducing.
Esther very reluctantly decided her ploy of open invitation hadn't worked. Kevin was, if anything, more complacent than usual. It had been almost a week now, and he'd not made any moves whatsoever, not even the usual bonk in the dark. He was even suspiciously ebullient, and it occurred to her that perhaps he had a mistress somewhere - not just his usual casual bonk, but a mistress. Her eyes narrowed at the thought. It was clearly time to give him another thrashing - to get him back in the way of things.
All he could talk about was his business successes. His sudden rise within the hierarchy at the bank, the newly-opened horizons, business lunches, cosy evening get-togethers, nights at the opera, all expenses paid. Except that they weren't cosy, not to Esther. They were hard work all the way; chatting up wrinkled men who just wanted to get their hands in her knickers, sucking up to their equally wrinkled and painted wives.
And now another dinner loomed.
'Better buy a new dress, honey,' Kevin said unexpectedly. 'But be careful parking - there's been a spate of car thefts recently. You know, I'd be much happier if you parked in the multi-storey on the edge of town. Better get there early, too, if you don't want any hassle. You'll be able to do your shopping and get out before the lunch hour rush.'
'Oh, stop fussing,' she told him, pecking his cheek. But the seeds of doubt had been sown. There had been thefts from the town centre car-park, he was right. And it was annoying if you couldn't park easily, so she took his advice and got there nice and early, cruising upward until she found a nice wide place to park in. She was happy about getting out, but lack of practice driving made her a bit scared of damaging someone else's car when squeezing into the narrow spaces allocated in car parks.
Smiling happily, she went shopping. She settled on a long dress, very severe at the front, but with a low back and a slit up one side almost to her panties. That should cause a stir. She was still happy about her choice when she got back to her car to find it almost hemmed in by a largish van. She frowned, not sure she would even be able to open the driver's door of her car to slide in.
She pressed the remote to unlock her car, only realising she was not alone when a figure appeared from behind the van and grabbed her. She caught a brief glimpse of a boiler-suited figure wearing a woollen hood, then her arms were trapped to her sides and a hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her feeble attempts to scream for help.
He was very efficient. With no fuss at all he hauled her into the back of the van and pulled the door closed. Suddenly she was on her back, staring up at her faceless captor as he knelt astride her, knees on her arms. She gasped and tried to scream again, but something cold and wet was thrust into her mouth, which was then sealed in with a strip of plaster or sticky tape, she couldn't see which.
This was real and she was so afraid she almost wet herself. She whimpered with fear and struggled, realising for the first time ever just how inadequate she was in the muscle department.
'Quiet!' Her captor hissed violently. 'I won't hurt you if you do as you're told. Now, shut up!'
She whimpered again and tried to control her fear. This couldn't be happening. Not in a public car park! What did he want with her? She had no money, it couldn't be that...
Her captor shuffled down slightly and roughly tugged the hem of her T-shirt from her trousers. Oh, no, now she realised. He rucked her T-shirt up over her bra and she heard him gasp at the first sight of her white flesh. Then he lifted one knee slightly and released an arm. She immediately tried to hit him, and scrabbled at the tape on her mouth, but he merely held her wrist, reached underneath and undid her bra clip. Her furious struggles just made it all the easier for him to then slip her arm from her garments. He then stretched her arm out to the side and buckled something securely around her wrist. The clothes were then pulled up over her head, her left arm released long enough for her to be stripped to the waist, and then that arm, too, was pinioned to the other side of the van.
Her breath now was coming in ragged whimpers.
'Don't panic,' her captor was whispering. 'I'm not going to hurt you. Listen! I have no intention of hurting you. Just relax, accept it, and you'll end up totally unharmed. We're just going to have a bit of fun, that's all.'
An inexplicable urge to laugh rose in her throat. Only last week she'd begged Kevin to let her live out a fantasy, and here it was happening. Only it wasn't Kevin, it was some stranger and it wasn't a fantasy. There was nothing she could do with her arms spread invitingly, and her firm breasts rising towards this monster as she breathed deeply to quell her panic. Her hands clutched helplessly at thin air out of harm's way, and she made begging noises in her throat.
A finger brushed across her breasts and down to her navel. She shuddered involuntarily. 'Not yet, little lady,' he whispered, guessing she was begging to be released. 'We're going to spend some time getting acquainted, having a good time, then I'll let you go. You'll like this, believe me, and no one but you will be any the wiser afterwards. Now let's see what else you have to offer me, eh?'
She glared at him furiously, now believing that he wasn't going to strangle her or cut her into ribbons, and her noises turned to those of helpless anger. To her horror he slipped down the zip of her jeans, flipped open the button, and pulled them down a few inches. She heard him gasp again and realised he was already rampant with desire.
'My, you're a little beauty,' he wheezed. 'We're g
oing to enjoy this, oh yes!'
She heard people outside the van and began to wriggle violently and whimper into the gag. Her captor suddenly burst into life, reached over to the cab and turned on the radio, drowning any other noises which might have attracted attention.
With her legs momentarily freed she lifted a knee with all her force and tried to catch him in the groin, but he anticipated the move and avoided the catastrophe.
'You little vixen,' he admonished. 'Trying to sabotage my tool-kit before I get to show you the plumbing?'
She growled with frustration.
'Tell you what,' he went on, 'we need to find some more secluded surroundings. Let's go for a little ride.' While he spoke he ignored her pleas and stretched her ankles towards the back corners of the van and tied them there.
Esther wriggled, testing the straps, only to find that they were firm. She began to feel a faint moistening between her legs at the exposed position, even though she still had her jeans on.
Her captor slid a hand down her flattened tummy, tucked his fingers beneath the zip of her jeans, and pressed a finger against the moist crevice discovered there. 'Goodness,' he said, clearly amused. 'I do believe you're enjoying this. Let's give you something to think about while we're driving, shall we?'
She didn't like the sound of that, and shook her head violently, but he took no notice. She squealed with horror as he pulled her jeans down over her buttocks, which was as far as they would go with her legs stretched wide, and that gave her a small moment of satisfaction. But her complacency died instantly as he picked up a large spanner and showed it to her. 'Told you I was good with the plumbing,' he said, and inserted it in an upright position between her legs. The taut jeans held it firmly in place. She gasped at the sudden shock of cold metal against her sensitive skin, but no amount of wriggling would displace it.
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