by Ray Gordon
I daren't ring Carole and suggest we go out for a drink. I couldn't face her questions, bring myself to talk about Den. I'd spend the evening watching television, I decided - the doors locked, the curtains drawn, I'd sip wine and relax. I'd also begin a diary, record my thoughts and feelings, events and experiences - keeping it well hidden from Mat, of course! No, perhaps I wouldn't keep a record of my adultery.
Wandering into the garden, I became less worried about Den as I sat on the soft grass, the green blades tickling my alert, red sex lips. I'd enjoy the summer, sunbathe in my bikini, not become a prisoner in my own home. But instinctively, I knew that he was there as I looked up at his house out of the corner of my eye. He was there, at an upstairs window, lurking, gazing at me. Initially, panic gripped me and I turned on my heels to run into the house and lock the door. But then, strangely, I didn't mind him watching me.
I knew that he wouldn't show the photographs to Mat - ruin any chance of fingering and licking me. He wouldn't be fool enough to destroy his hold over me. His hold over me? Suddenly, it dawned on me that it was me who had the hold over him. It was my body he wanted. Insanely, I decided to tease him, to allow my blouse to fall open, to expose my nipples. Was arousal the whiplash?
Perhaps I was subconsciously getting my own back for what he'd done. I'd have nothing to gain by flaunting my breasts, but the thought of arousing him and then slipping into the house before he could get at me delighted me. Reclining on the grass, stretching my limbs out languorously, I had an even more wicked idea.
Allowing my legs to part, displaying my well-juiced vaginal crack, I watched him through my eyelashes. My stomach somersaulting, I parted my thighs further, exposing my naked femininity in all its glory. The game was more than dangerous now, it was lethal! But I couldn't help myself as I brought my knees up, allowing them to fall apart and show off my beautiful cunt. Cunt, vulva, vagina, pussy, love slit...
In my confusion, I tried to understand why displaying my vaginal crack to my blackmailer sent a thrill through me. Deliberately driving him on like that, dangling a platinum carrot before him, was perilous. But the sense of power was exhilarating! I'd turned the situation round. For the time being, at least, I was in control. Displaying my beguiling feminine wares, I was the omnipotent.
As he disappeared from view, I leaped to my feet and dashed into the house, locking the door behind me. He'd taken the bait and would come running, threatening me with his precious magazines and tape. In the safety of the kitchen I stood motionless, breathing deeply as I waited for a knock on the back door or the phone to ring.
I waited for what seemed like hours. Nothing happened. Where was he? What was he doing? I wished I'd not teased him like that - I couldn't afford to play spurious games. He was bound to realize that I'd exposed my sexual epicentre deliberately, and take it as a come-on. I'd been a complete fool!
An ominous looking package was lying on the front doormat as I ventured through the hallway. It was addressed to Mat, and I immediately sensed trouble. Ripping the brown paper, I was horrified to discover one of my lacy red suspender belts - stained and freshly wet with sperm. I didn't allow myself to imagine how Mat would have reacted had he opened the dirty packet. There'd have been no positive proof that the garment was mine but, with his suspicious mind, he'd have put two and two together and come up with me.
I froze as the doorbell rang. After a minute, a loud knock sounded on the back door. It was Den, trying to get at me, my body. The adulterous act I'd committed in his house, my blatant exhibitionism in the garden... I'd teased him, played with him, roused the monster in him. And now it was after me!
Chapter Three
I spent the rest of the day hiding in the lounge with the curtains drawn, not even daring to venture into the kitchen to prepare a meal. Den had been out there waiting, lurking in the dark like a monster, and it was only when I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and locked the door that I felt a little safer.
Sleep had cruelly evaded me during the night. I had heard movements downstairs, but had been too afraid to investigate. Was the house creaking as the rafters cooled from the heat of the day? Or was it Den? Was he in the house, looking for me, hunting for my naked body? Finally putting it down to my imagination, I somehow managed to get to sleep. But I dreamed terrible dreams.
Through the velvety curtains of my dreams, I saw myself standing naked before Den in the lounge, my hands tethered behind my back. My feet wide apart, my secret valley gaping, he was thrusting something in and out of my vagina. It was long, huge, and it stretched my pussy lips wide apart, to the hilt. As he violated my vaginal sheath, penises drifted around me, moving close to my face, threatening to enter my mouth. Suddenly, the purple phalluses exploded in orgasm, showering me with sperm, splattering my cheeks, my mouth, until I was drowning in a sea of sex.
I woke with a start to a new morning, wondering what the day would bring. Mat would be home that evening, but the thought worried me. If Den dropped another package through the letterbox and Mat happened to open it... I'd played with fire, and was sure to be burned.
I shouldn't have gone to Den's house, let alone allowed him to finger and lick me to orgasm. I shouldn't have allowed him to suck my nipples, lick my sex valley, and I shouldn't have played dangerous games in the garden. Mistakes had been made, inevitably to be followed by dire consequences.
Making coffee, I pondered on the recent events. It had been like a game to me, teasing Den, giving him the come-on and then hiding in the house. Masturbating as I'd pictured him watching me had been exciting, enhancing the heavenly sensations. But now the game had turned sinister.
I still had a chance to turn the clock back though, I decided. No matter what I'd done, there was no proof... No proof? Den's bloody tape recording was all the proof he needed! Once Mat heard my so-called confession, all hell would be let loose!
Sitting at the kitchen table sipping my coffee and munching toast, I became aware of my clitoris calling for attention - swelling and throbbing within my sex valley. My vaginal juices wetting my panties, something within me had definitely been roused. But what? Was I a latent nymphomaniac? Masturbating with the banana and then savouring the hot fruit had stimulated me no end. But was I really a nymphomaniac?
As the front doorbell rang, I froze. It could have been the postman or the milkman, but I knew instinctively that it was Den. "Jane!" he called through the letterbox. "Jane, I know you're in there!" My hands trembling, spilling coffee as I deposited my cup on the table, I didn't know what to do. "Jane!" he persisted, his deep voice menacing. "I've put something through the letterbox. Take a look at it!"
Tentatively walking through the hall, I picked up a photograph from the doormat. Stretched out on the grass with my skirt up over my stomach, my open pussy blatantly displayed, the picture was clear evidence of my obscene exhibitionism. I felt sick as Den coolly informed me that there were several copies. My heart thumping against my chest, I didn't know what to say as he insisted that I let him in.
"Come on, Jane!" he wheedled as I gazed glassy eyed at the photograph. "Either you let me in, or Mat gets a copy of the picture!"
"All right, all right!" I finally conceded, reluctantly opening the door.
"That's more like it," he grinned, stepping into the hall, his dark eyes locked to mine. "So, what do you think of the picture?"
"I think it's me relaxing quite innocently in the garden."
"What, with your cunt deliberately on show?"
"I forgot to put my panties on. All this proves is that you're a pervert."
"It proves that you were showing me your cunt, Jane. When Mat sees..."
"When Mat sees it, he'll probably punch you in the face."
"I think not," he smirked, sauntering through the hall to the lounge. Meekly following him, I wondered at his next move. "How many women sunbathe like that?"
"Me, for starters."
"How many women have posed for men's mags, left their panties, their suspender belts and dressing gown
in their neighbours' houses?"
"I..."
"There's one other thing, Jane." He chuckled evilly as he stared at me. "I have the most wonderful photograph of you standing naked in my lounge with my fingers up your tight cunt."
"You can't have!" I returned.
"Can't I?"
"There was no camera!"
"Oh, yes there was. A hidden camera, operated by..."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care whether you believe me or not, the fact is that I have several shots of you with my fingers up your wet cunt."
Shaking uncontrollably, I leaned on the back of the armchair to steady myself as I felt my legs crumple. Den was capable of any treachery, I knew - I had no reason to disbelieve that he'd taken photographs of me. Nausea embraced me and my head spun as I imagined Mat discovering my wanton adultery. Mistakes are inevitably followed by dire consequences, I reflected as Den stood grinning triumphantly at me. Who was sending me the notes?
"OK, take your panties off," he instructed me as he removed his leather belt. Obediently, I slipped my hands up my skirt and pulled my panties down, trying to conceal the stained crotch as I kicked my shoes off. "Now lift your skirt right up and bend over the back of the armchair," he ordered me as I stepped out of my panties.
"Den," I began, realizing that he was going to do far more than lick and finger me.
"Do it, Jane! From now on, I am the master, and you the slave - remember that!"
The master and the slave? He was right! I was nothing more than a slave to him, an object to be used, belittled, humiliated... I gazed in horror at the leather belt, knowing full well what he intended to do with it. "Do it, Jane!" he repeated angrily. "I will not tolerate disobedience!"
Raising my skirt, I leaned over the back of the armchair, exposing my naked buttocks, my vaginal lips swelling between my thighs. Moving behind me, cracking the belt like a whip, he chuckled as I pressed my face into the cushion and whimpered incoherent words of fear. Stroking my tensed buttocks, running his fingers up and down my bottom crease, his chuckle became a wicked laugh.
"Have you ever been thrashed?" he leered menacingly.
"No, I haven't," I whispered, trembling at the thought. I didn't have to do this, I didn't have to endure a thrashing, but... You might enjoy it.
"You have a nice bum."
"Den... Den, please..." I stammered.
The leather belt cracking loudly across my taut buttocks, my rounded melons, my body jolted violently. As I tried to stand upright, the belt struck me again, the stinging pain permeating my bottom as I collapsed over the back of the chair. My mind racked with guilt and humiliation, I imagined Mat walking into the room, the horror on his face as he confronted the debased spectacle. How ever had I got myself into this situation? I wondered dazedly as the belt seared my bottom again. My buttocks burning as the thrashing continued, I cried out, begging for mercy. But my pleas were met only with wicked laughter.
"Please!" I sobbed, my buttocks on fire as the belt lashed me again and again. "Den, please!"
"This is what you get for being naughty!" he cried in his devilry, bringing the belt down with a deafening crack.
There was no point in pleading with the monster. All I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and endure the pain, which became more bearable as the demented leather numbed my stinging buttocks. I found myself counting the lashes... thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... On and on the gruelling thrashing continued until the pain melted into a deep burning heat.
My vaginal juice seeping between my swollen sex lips, trickling down my inner thighs, I imagined the view my abuser had of my most intimate place. Even Mat had never seen me in such a degrading position. Our lovemaking had never involved crudity such as this. Would Mat like to thrash me?
Imagining Mat alighting on my bottom weals as Den finally halted the thrashing, I was sure that my marriage was doomed. There'd be no way I could explain the tape and photographs, let alone the blatant evidence of a recent buttock thrashing.
"Kneel before your master, bitch!" Den ordered me cruelly, grabbing my arm and yanking me up from the chair like a rag doll.
"No, Den!" I protested, eyeing his solid penis jettisoning from his jeans.
"Worship my cock, or you'll have another thrashing! Kneel before me, your master, and kiss my cock!"
"Den..."
"Jane, think about Mat, what he'd say if... I'm not playing games! Beg to suck my cock and drink my spunk."
"No!"
"Beg, or I'll thrash you again."
"Please... please let me suck your cock and drink your spunk," I recited demurely.
Kneeling before him, I gazed at his solid penis through the curtain of matted blonde hair cascading over my flushed face. I focused on his purple glans, his sperm slit, as he pulled his foreskin back. Kiss him? Or endure another thrashing? Whether or not I kissed him, I guessed I'd be in line for another beating. There again, if I masturbated him, quenched his thirst for orgasm, he'd probably leave. I was naive beyond belief!
My lips pursed, I leaned forward and kissed his silky knob. Gasping, he pressed his glans to my mouth, obviously craving far more than a kiss. I pulled back. I couldn't bring myself to take another man into my mouth, no matter what the consequences! Looking up, my tearful eyes caught his, glinting dangerously as he raised the belt above his head. I knew I had no option.
Opening my mouth, I took his glans inside and sucked. A thousand thoughts cascaded through my mind. Where was Mat? What was he doing? What on earth was I doing? First my mouth, and then my... As Den clutched my head, driving his marauding knob to the back of my throat, his thick black pubic thatch tickling my face, I knew he was about to come.
"Christ, that's good!" he gasped, withdrawing his cock and driving into me again, using my mouth as he would my vagina, crudely fucking me there. My buttocks burning, my mind brimming with remorse, I had no choice other than to allow him to use me to satisfy his base desires. "Coming!" he finally cried, thrusting his bulbous knob to my tonsils.
His salty sperm jetting, bathing my tongue, filling my cheeks as he mouth-fucked me, I swallowed hard. Now I was a fully-fledged adulteress, a tart, a wanton whore... But I'd had a choice, hadn't I? I hadn't had to commit the act. The inner whisper consoled me. You had no choice.
As Den's penis twitched, his treacherous sperm baptizing my throat, I again thought of Mat. My innocent husband was working hard for our future while I was on my knees before another man, destroying that work. My neighbour fucking my mouth, spunking down my throat... There was no future now.
"God, I needed that!" Den breathed, slipping his wet penis out of my jismed mouth. "Lick me clean, whore! Lick the spunk from my cock!" Meekly, I did as he asked. I'd committed the profane act - there seemed little point in protesting now.
As I lapped up the spilled sperm from his veined shaft, from his glistening purple knob, he let out little gasps of pleasure. I felt his come running down my chin and recalled sucking Mat to orgasm. I was the best, an expert, he'd praised me as I'd swallowed his love fruit. I was good, expertly licking and sucking my husband to ecstasy but now... Never again could I suck Mat's penis. Never.
But, in my confusion, I told myself that a penis was a penis. There was no love, no warmth, only the indifferent coupling - flesh to flesh. What did it matter whether I'd sucked another man to orgasm or not? A cock was a cock, after all. It had been only a physical act, nothing more.
"You're bloody good," Den grinned as he looked down at me. "You give a good blow job." The crude term battered my mind, hurting me. As he tugged his jeans down, I wondered what he'd demand of me next, what crude act he'd instruct his slave to commit. His heavy balls jiggling into view, his cock stiffening again, I again tried to convince myself that this was purely a physical act involving no feeling or emotion.
"Suck me off again," he murmured, pulling his foreskin back. I took him into my mouth, his knob swelling, his shaft becoming solid as I sucked. Rolling my tongue over his silky g
lans, my lips stretched tautly around his broad shaft, I closed my eyes. My cunt would be next, I knew, as I imagined him driving into me, my body jolting as he fucked me.
Was being fucked by another man simply a physical coupling? I tormented myself. Flesh to flesh - ashes to ashes. How would I feel after I'd been fucked? How would I feel when Den had gone, knowing that I'd sucked his knob and swallowed his sperm? How did I feel, being used for crude sex? At that time I didn't know how I felt. Had I emotions, they were alien to me.
"Lick my knob," he breathed, pulling back until my wet lips enveloped his ballooning glans. "Go on, lick it." The taste of sperm lingering in my mouth, I snaked my tongue round his purple globe, wondering whether he'd ever be satisfied. "Play with my balls," he instructed me. Obediently, I cupped his balls in the palm of my hand, gently squeezing them as I moved my head back and forth, repeatedly taking his phallus deep into my mouth.
He took longer to come this time, giving me longer to think about the lewd act I was performing. His balls in one hand, his solid shaft in the other, his swollen knob gliding over my wet tongue, I sensed my clitoris swell and pulsate. My cunt squeezed, quivered, wetting. Even though this was only a physical coupling, my arousal instinctively rose. It wasn't that I was deriving pleasure from sucking my neighbour's cock, I told myself. Just a natural response to the crude act.
Did I want to come? I wondered as the mouth fucking continued. Did I want Den to lick and finger me to orgasm? My cunt juicing, contracting, my erect nipples caressing my silk blouse, I became horrifically aware of my soaring arousal. Was it the latent nymphomaniac in me, stirring, waking? I didn't know. I'd thought I would have been numb, an emotional wasteland. But the treacherous union was stimulating me incredibly.
As Den groaned in his pleasure, I became acutely aware of a desperate longing for his sperm. The prohibited act, the danger, the notion of master and slave, excited me, sent a thrill running through my quivering pelvis. Again, I imagined his cock driving deep into my hot vagina, fucking me, spunking inside me - cervix spunking. It didn't seem to matter what I did now, I couldn't have fallen any further into the murky pool of wanton adultery. I'd traversed all boundaries, crossed the divide. I might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.