Erotic
2003-09-03

We bonded pretty quickly, each of us taking pride in his work and realizing we could both learn from each other. Of course he wanted to know if I'd had sex with any of my models. I explained that as much as I'd like to, it couldn't happen. They are paid models. They undress, I tie them up, keeping contact to a minimum. If the shoot involves an actor, it's usually a boyfriend or other, pre-approved by the model. I shoot a few rolls, we shake hands, I pay the agreed rate, and they go. They all come with an escort, which is understandable, and if I ever tried anything inappropriate, I would be quickly labeled a creep, and word travels fast in the modeling community. But that didn't mean I wasn't tempted. My own fantasies involved screwing women who couldn't refuse, and I always thought it must be the universal male fantasy. "Seeing a beautiful young model tied up with her legs spread requires all the self control in the world not to jump her bones right then and there. " I commented. One Saturday afternoon, by happenstance, we bumped into each other at our local photo supply shop, where I was just browsing as I often did. His wife Denise was with him. He introduced us, and when I said "Pleased to meet you" It was more than a perfunctory response. She was pretty good looking, and I don't mean for her age.

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   She wasn't what I'd call young, but she didn't look like she'd been married for 17 years either. Her brown eyes lit up as her glossy red lips parted to show her pearly whites, and her reddish blond hair fell down to between her shoulders. She seemed only a little shorter than me, maybe 5'9", but that was because of the strappy high heeled sandals she wore, revealing carefully painted toenails. In modeling circles she would be labeled "Full Figured", but she still had the proportions to turn heads, old and young. Easily a D-cup, and with a hip to waist ratio that deserved all the notice it got. This couldn't be the nun Greg had described. We shook hands and she gripped mine firmly, a true business handshake. But I still noticed how soft and well manicured her hands were, her fingernails a shade of red earth. I offered to buy us all lunch, but they politely declined, as they had already eaten and had errands to run. During the next week Greg gave me a call to discuss an interesting new product he had just read about, and our conversation turned to our chance meeting that past weekend. "Greg, I hope you don't mind me saying so but your wife is smokin'! Is that the conservative middle-American girl you talk about?" An uncomfortable pause in the conversation ensued. And then he started: "You know," I was relieved as I heard the proud smile in his voice: "I thought you took a little bit of a liking to her!""Damn, was I that obvious? Sorry, I didn't mean to drool. " I said, smiling as well. "That's O. K.

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  , I don't think she noticed, she was too concerned about our next stop. Yeah, she's all business," he continued, "sometimes even in bed. Don't get me wrong, Denise is a great lay, as long as you like it missionary style. She's just so reluctant to try new things, it's frustrating. We got into a huge argument the other day, just because I insisted I wanted some head. I was so pissed by the time she agreed I wasn't in the mood anymore. ""Bummer," I said, not knowing how to reply. "As you can imagine, it's hard to even discuss my fantasies with her, let alone get her to participate. I checked out your site, and I really like your work. It's gotta be a real gas getting to tie those girls up in such vulnerable positions. Where do you get your racks and bars and such?" He continued to unload and to pick my brains in a like manner for another half hour. It was pretty obvious he was planning Friday of the following week, Greg gave me a call. It was around 9:30pm and I was idly channel surfing. He invited me over to his place to shoot the shit, have a drink and talk shop. I said what the hell.

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   Of course, the chance to see Denise was also a motivating factor. The directions he gave me led to a rural area, about twenty minutes south of town. There were hardly any street lamps along the way, and even fewer porchlights. The smells of farm animals were noticeable, but far from overwhelming, and the air was fresh. When I rang the doorbell, I heard a male voice from inside: "Come on in, it's open!" As I entered, Greg was at the kitchen counter, pouring a couple of drinks. He greeted me, walking over and handing me a glass: "Glad you made it!" Grinning ear to ear. "My pleasure. " I replied, sampling Jack's finest. "This is a neat place you got here! Quiet, not too far from town,. . . I can't remember the last time I heard so many crickets!""Thanks. " he replied. "It's nice to come home and not have to deal with nosy, noisy neighbors. ""Yeah, I can appreciate that.

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   How's Denise, is she around?" "Yeah, she's hanging around here somewhere. Hey, I've been dying to show you something!""Outstanding!" I replied. "What is it?""Come on downstairs, I'll show you. "As we went down the rickety flight of stairs to his basement, I heard what sounded suspiciously like muffled cries for help. I was right. As he switched on the light, I couldn't believe what I saw. Denise was standing on the balls of her feet, naked as the day she was born. Her wrists were bound together, arms stretched high, like she was trying to change a light bulb without using a footstool. A length of rope went from her bound wrists, up through a pulley (suspended from a rafter directly above her), back down behind her back and between her buttocks, then forward under her crotch and ended with several tight loops knotted around her slender waist. The line holding the pulley itself ran up through an eye loop in the rafter then laterally back down to a cleat mounted on the wall to her right. The pulley's height was set, such that she was forced to stand on tippy toes, or the rope under her crotch would tighten, digging mercilessly into her already irritated and swollen vulva. Ditto, if she tried to pull her arms down or even let them relax. An interesting variation on the ancient wooden horse torture. Designed to induce fatigue, then punishing it severely. "I tried to get her to play some new games and she turned me down as always, calling me a sick pervert.

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  " he explained calmly. "So I chloroformed her. " Denise was gagged, and blindfolded. Duct tape made sure she couldn't see under or over her blindfold, and some black wires ran from her ears (covered by the blindfold) down into the phone jack of a stereo receiver on the bench behind her. Greg continued: "She can't see or hear us, the stereo is playing loud static into earbud headphones, so she doesn't even know we're here. " "Shit!" I exclaimed. "You chloroformed her? Are you nuts? I can't be a part of this, man, this is seriously illegal! I gotta go. " I was floored. But I was also highly turned on. I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from her and turned towards the staircase. Greg grabbed me by the arm: "Hold on, didn't you hear me? She doesn't even know you're here!" he prodded. "Relax, enjoy the view!"And what a view it was. As she struggled her pendulous breasts seemed to be waving at me. Her reddish brown nipples stuck out about half an inch, and that sight alone was captivating. I wasn't sure if I should simply turn and bolt out of there, or just pull my hardening dick out.

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   "How long has she been like this?" I asked. "Oh, not long, maybe a half an hour. Look, she's already breaking a sweat!" he observed lightheartedly. "Hey, you wanna feel her up? Go ahead! Don't be shy!" he smiled. Now I was really torn. Fuck! I looked at her upstretched arms, the straining leg muscles and the vulnerable flesh in between, mentally weighing the pleasure I would get from them against the risk of jail time. This was a battle that could not be won by pure intellect. I stepped towards her, already wondering what case my lawyer would have. I stood before her and ran my fingers past her nipples. She immediately jumped back, or tried to, and started screaming into her ball gag. "She thinks it's me. " he said. "Go ahead, do anything you like! I know this is what you've wanted to do with your models, I figured we both deserve a little fun. Don't be self conscious, just pretend I'm not here!"Like a kid in a toy store who's just been given carte blanche, I grabbed her left breast roughly with one hand, pinching her, enjoying the heft of it and the softness of her skin. I wrapped my other arm around her back, and started sucking on the other tit like a deprived calf.

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   By the sound of it she didn't like the rough treatment one bit, but the guarantee of impunity was intoxicating. My dick was trying to rip it's way out of my pants, but I still wasn't sure I could go that far, with her husband standing right behind me. When I turned around, he had his own prick in his hand, obviously enjoying the event as much as I was. Then it occurred to me: he obviously had her under control, so why exactly was I here? "Don't you see?" he answered,"You get a bondage fantasy, I get my long time wish of seeing another man take her, and ultimately, I get control. Control over her, control over my sex life!""How do you figure?" I asked. "As soon as you untie her, she's going for a rape kit, then to a divorce lawyer! We'll both be in such deep shit Johnny Cochran couldn't save our ass!""Aaahh, but Mr. Cochran didn't have this!" he said, handing me a pro digital SLR camera. "Miss Prim and Proper over here is involved in the community, often doing volunteer work for the church. She is extremely image conscious, and would absolutely shrivel and die if pictures of her ended up in the local paper or on the internet. You see any tan lines on her? She won't even wear a bikini, fer Christ's sake! She will do anything to maintain her squeaky clean image around here, and a messy divorce or an accusation of rape would set the local rumor mill abuzz. Any suspicion of licentious behavior, let alone pictures floating around on the web, and those hypocrites at the church would drop her like a hot, demon-possessed potato. "By this time her screams, even muted by the gag, were alarmingly loud and frequent. She was shifting her weight repeatedly from one foot to the other, and her calves were visibly vibrating. Her hands were now twisted claws, and sweat was pouring from her brow, despite the chill in the basement. "Don't you think she's had enough?" I queried, anxious.

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   "Yeah," he replied lazily, "it's time we had a talk anyway. Do me a favor and don't say a word for the next couple minutes. " He walked to the stereo and lowered the volume so she could hear him speak. The cries lowered to a whimper, and her head jerked left, then right, searching blindly for her captor. "Hi, honey. " he said in an overly gentle tone, as if talking to a young child: "We're gonna have a little chat. I'm gonna lower the rope now so you can give me your full attention. O. K. ?" She nodded enthusiastically. He loosened the line on the cleat and lowered the pulley, about 5 inches. Just enough so she could put her feet flat on the ground. As soon as she felt the slack, she let herself down on her heels and let her arms fall, which was a mistake, as the crotch rope again tightened suddenly. The sharp pain caused her to scream for one long breath, that slowly degraded into a body shaking, sobbing cry of pain and confusion. Greg watched this for a few moments, apparently unmoved.

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   Then he began, in a decidedly more caustic tone: "I said I would lower the rope, I never said I would release you, dumb bitch. Now listen. We're going to have a little fun, and learn a few new things. I've decided to make you my slut, my personal whore, very own jezebel. You think that sounds outrageous, don't you? Why would I use such horrible language with you? Why would I hurt you, and treat you like a possession? Because you're my wife. And marriage is little more than a legal, binding exclusivity contract. In business, exclusivity implies that there will be a sufficient flow of goods and services between the concerned entities to warrant the continuation of said agreement. Otherwise, inequities arise that are detrimental to the relationship, possibly engendering deep resentment. ""And That's where I am, right now. " he continued. "Deep resentment. We got married, and now neither one of us can screw anybody else. We're stuck with each other, so I have to get all of my sexual gratification from you! Is the picture getting any clearer?" his tone getting louder, "Do you see where I'm going with this? If you're the only woman I can fuck, you're going to be every woman I ever wanted to fuck, and in every way!! Got that?!?! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!"She nodded her head, still crying out loud. "I really hope you're getting this, I really do. But I bet I know what you're thinking.

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   I'm pretty sure you're already planning your escape.

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Maybe thinking of calling the cops as soon as my back is turned. Well guess what? I've got a friend of mine here who will remain un-named, and un-seen. Take a picture for the nice lady, won't you?" He asked, looking at me. I powered up the camera and raised it to my eye. The audible shutter release tone stopped Denise's sobbing as if she had been slapped. "Yes, Dear, I brought a friend, and he's going to help me train you. Don't bother guessing who it is, you've never met him. I wouldn't be so foolish as to bring someone you know, would I?" He looked at me and winked, smiling. "Among other things, he'll be documenting our little escapade. What's that, you say? As soon as I untie you, you're gonna scream for help, get us both locked up and divorce me so fast my head will spin!" he said in his best 'black girl' impression, waving his hands and snapping his fingers three times in a big "Z" pattern. I stifled a laugh. "Well, think about it some more. " he advised sarcastically. "It will be your word against mine.

 

   You'll say I raped and abused you, I'll say we've been doing this consensually for years, and you just want to divorce me out of greed, now that the business is finally taking off! Either way, it will be a long and protracted controversy, during which it will be my delight to drag you and your family through the mud. How much respect do you think you'll get from the church when pictures of you whoring yourself out are 'leaked' onto the web? How long will your family be viewed as a 'Pillar Of The Community', when the newspapers get wind of a certain 20 year old medical record involving you, your father and an unborn fetus?" Her strained, low sobbing had resumed, probably less from the fear than from the cramps in her arms. "Now if you hadn't noticed, I've piled some mulch around the basement windows, for added soundproofing. And you know how far we are from the road, and from our neighbors. So screaming will only serve to annoy me. Do you want to annoy me, Dear?" She shook her head rapidly. He proceeded to remove her ball gag, and a quivering torrent of desperate pleas began: "Honey please lower my arms it hurts so bad I can't take it anymore I promise I won't scream or try to escape please I'll do whatever you say just let me lower them my arms ache so bad they're cramping and my thing is burning I can't feel my fingers why are you hurting me like thi. . . ""SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Greg screamed. Startled, she yelped and winced, her lips trembling. Box cutter already in hand, he cut the crotch rope midway between her ass and her wrists. Once again, sensing the slack, she lowered her arms, slowly this time, guarding against the slightest tug on her nether region. Certain she was now free, she lowered herself onto her side, laying in a fetal position on the cold concrete floor and began to weep Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just I love you so much and you've been shutting me out, I don't know what to do. " Greg cooed in her ear, having lowered himself to "cuddle" with her on the floor.

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   "I'm going to do something wonderful for you that will make you feel so good you'll forget why you were crying. "At that he carried her to a large padded platform that might have started life as a 4'x8' sheet of plywood, but which now had various rope cleats and tie down points around it's perimeter as well as two vertical posts about a foot tall, one on each of the board's long sides. He laid her down on her back and untied her wrists, briefly allowing her to massage them to restore circulation and feeling, but admonishing her not to remove her blindfold. After removing the loops around her waist, he re-attached her wrists to cleats above and to either side of her head, this time using cuffs that weren't as harsh, and he placed similar straps around her thighs, just above the knees, attaching them to the tips of the two vertical posts, spreading them open. Denise shivered briefly. Realizing early on that she would again be rendered helpless in a new, vulnerable position, and that some lustful stranger was now freely ogling her most intimate areas, she thought better of resisting. Her husband had become unpredictable, and she couldn't bear any more torture at his hands, for only now was the burning pain in her secret place subsiding to a dull throb. Without warning, a soft warm hand gently cupped her exposed mound, and the contrast with the cool air combined with the unexpectedness sent a light tingle through her entire being. Slowly it began lightly massaging her, stroking rhythmically in an elliptical pattern. She swallowed, suddenly unsure of who it was that was touching her. Was the monster her husband had become still capable of such a soft, seemingly loving caress? He hadn't touched her like that in ages, and back then, she was uncomfortable with it. But now, she couldn't shy away. She knew she wasn't supposed to like it, she tried to put it out of her mind, concentrate on something else. But the persistent caresses were invading her consciousness, slowly overpowering all her senses. Soon her breathing had matched the rhythm of her user's hand.

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   She tried to think of it that way, that she was a mere plaything for him, but that didn't last as she was flooded now with feelings of weakness, lust, and love, all at once, indistinguishable from one another. Her mind raced, as did her pulse. This must be what they all talked about. Such a singular intense ecstasy. This was the forbidden fruit that drove man from Eden, and into countless wars. In some distant corner of her mind she seemed to recognize a chirping, clicking sound, but that was unimportant now. She was basking in the light and warmth of her husbands love. She moaned, now uncertain why she was resisting. She was peripherally aware that her hips were now rising to meet her love's caress, and nothing else, it seemed, could make her whole. Now she felt flush, a fine sheen cooled her brow and her head turned side to side as she gasped for air. Her body was in control now, her consciousness a mere passenger on this unfamiliar trail. She called out, wanting the end yet wishing it would never come. The first wave of orgasm, unlike anything she had ever experienced, took her so profoundly by surprise she paused: Everything paused. Her breathing stopped momentarily, each muscle in her abdomen contracting almost painfully. Her hands gripped the edges of the platform and her arms tensed, her legs forcefully extended forming a perfect "V".

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   Starburst patterns formed under her eyelids and all thoughts of any coherency left her mind, overridden by animal instinct and sensations of vertigo. From her next shallow breaths were born guttural noises of pleasure the likes of which she had never uttered. For a small eternity, multiple waves rocked her body with otherworldly currents that extended to each extremity, and permeated each and every cell. And then there was My. God. " Greg mouthed almost silently, looking down at Denise's limp body. "She actually fainted! I thought that only happened in people's fantasies!" Then he looked up with a grin that managed at once to be silly and triumphant: "I think she really came for the first time! Her first bloody orgasm! Tell me you got pictures! Tell me you got fucking pictures!!""Better!" I replied, with a grin of my own: "I got the last minute or so in full motion digital video!" Greg could only answer with the most contagious giggle I have ever heard from an adult male. "Mmmm. . . . . . . .

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  . . . Honey?. . . . Where are you?" Denise moaned, awaking as from a dream. "I'm right here, Princess!" He replied with genuine affection in his voice. Apparently relaxed, she took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "That felt soooo good, that was wonderful. " she said, smiling. "Is that what all our arguments were about? Is that how it makes you feel? I never understood why you insisted so much. ""Yes, my love, it's wonderful, isn't it? It was always good, but it will be so much better from now on. ""Oh, baby, untie me so I can put my arms around you.

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   I don't ever want us to argue again. I'll be your devoted carnal slave. I'll do anything you ask of me if you always make me feel like this. ""Honey, you're gonna make me so happy. But your task tonight isn't finished. I'm going to ask you to do some things that you might not want to, but keep in mind how pleased it will make me. O. K. Honey? Can you do that?""Anything you say, baby, anything,. . . But please don't hurt me anymore. The pain was so awful, I couldn't take that again, please and I'll do it all. . .

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  ""Shhhhhh. . . . " He cut her off with a finger on her lips. "I'm going to un-tie you. Once again you must not remove your blindfold. Understood?" She nodded. Within a few minutes she was on all fours, bent over a horizontal pole supported by the two verticals where her knees were attached before. Her Ankles were firmly tied apart, on the edges of the platform and her knees again spread, ensuring her full and complete exposure. Her lips glistened, their moisture and warmth beckoning. Her back arched downward, enhancing their appeal as her mound jutted obscenely rearward, calling all hands. Her wrists were bound together once again, and tied to the front edge of the platform, with just enough slack that she could rest her weight on her elbows. Denise wondered what was to come. Once again, helpless to resist, literally anyone could touch her in any way, and she could not deny them.

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   It wasn't her decision anymore, and it excited her. Freed from the worries of propriety, she anticipated her husbands touch, wanting him to fill her, and the desire was overwhelming. Also, she could not forget the silent stranger in the room. The thought that he was watching her, leering at her backside, perhaps wanting to fondle her breasts as they hung now downwards towards her elbows, somehow didn't shame her the way it might have before. Indeed she enjoyed this image of "forbidden fruit" that she had of herself. She was Greg's. He was her protector, and he wouldn't let anyone else have their way with her. Now she felt a pair of hands moving languorously up the back of her legs, over her hips and up her back. She breathed a sigh of deep yearning as the hands roamed her entire body. That tingling sensation was back, longer and more pronounced, as the hands glided over every square inch of her. Cupping her breasts, they slowly pulled and teased her nipples, eliciting a deep moan that itself spoke volumes. By now she could feel him behind her, his manhood at the ready, pressing against her mound. She pressed back, arching her back more, trying to capture it inside her, and she begged: "Oh baby, what are you waiting for? I need to feel you inside me, please fill me now with your love!"Her back remained tense as she felt a soft slick bulb tease her, rubbing up and down her slit, spreading her lips to milk them of their moisture, and then a sudden but welcomed push into her that seemed to stop time itself. She reveled in the sensation of having her flesh stretched around his girth, which seemed even wider than usual, and of the delicious friction that came of his continuing penetration, deeper and deeper. So deep in fact, she knew something was different.

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   This was not the same man who had taken her all the years before, no, she knew that man and how he felt inside her.

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This was wrong! This was that stranger! "Oh my God, No! Wait! Please get off of me! You're not my husband! Greg! Baby Where are you? Please, Sir, please don't do this. . . " She said, now struggling, begging me to stop, moving around as much as her ropes let her, contracting tightly as she tried to push me out, jerking to and fro, unwittingly bringing me quickly quite close to the edge. . . And then her husband spoke up. "Shhhh, honey here I am. " Taking up a position on his knees, sitting on his heels with his crotch just under her head. She had calmed down now that he took her head in his hands and kissed her face lightly, lovingly. "This is what I told you had to do for me, even though you might not like it. But it's O. K. , don't fight it, I want you to enjoy it.

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   I can only be happy if you enjoy it. You want to make me happy, don't you?" She nodded. "Good, then relax, let it happen, and go where your body takes you. "I had come back down from the brink enough that if I took it slowly I could last a few minutes. I hoped. This was a phenomenal piece of ass. Maybe it was the ropes, the struggling, or the searing heat clamped around my cock, but I was in heaven. I pumped slowly, trying to savor the moment, resisting the temptation to plow into her like a jack hammer. I watched as Denise's head began to bob up and down, and a delighted expression appeared on Greg's face. "MMmmmm, Baby, yeah, that so good. . . . I've waited so long to feel your tongue and lips around me!" Greg murmured softly. "You're at last giving me true happiness.

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  "I heard Denise moan as Greg started rubbing her tits rather briskly. She was now pushing back again, taking me all the way in, squeezing as I pulled away only to me take me back in with a slapping sound. This was too much and I couldn't hold back anymore. Grabbing her hips like my life depended on it I pummeled her brutally, releasing any semblance of civility, but careful not to make a sound, lest she recognize my voice. I felt her tight cunt somehow tighten even more and a stifled moan now accompanied her accelerated bobbing motions. Apparently the vibrations in her throat were having an effect on Greg as his expression had changed to one of deep concentration. His hips pumped up and down into her face, while his hands were entwined in her hair. As I blew my load, her gripping pussy milking the cum from my engorged member while Greg grunted like the yeti, I thought this must be the only simultaneous triple orgasm I'd ever be a part of. Realizing my part in this fantasy was over, I got up and dressed. I took the memory from the camera and signaled to Greg as I left. On the drive back I reflected on the significance of the event I had witnessed, pondering the little data pack. The abuse from her father those years ago had really screwed her up sexually, making her non-orgasmic, forcing these drastic measures from her spouse. But did it work? Would she now become his dream slut as he hoped? had gone by and Greg and I spoke on and off, careful to avoid the subject of Denise's "awakening" when she was within earshot, indeed even when she was in the same building. Apparently she had become quite the sex kitten, and Greg jokingly wondered if he hadn't created a monster. He wished he had done it years ago, when he was young enough to keep up with her, so voracious was her appetite.

 

  This time, Denise answered the phone. Greg was preparing to travel for a three-day shoot and I wanted to know if he needed a battery pack he'd lent me. I heard the sound of a hand over the receiver and then her response: "No, he says he's got enough rechargeables for the job. I'd just give him the phone, but he's trying to pack for this trip. The plane leaves at noon and he's running around like a chicken with it's head cut off!" I stifled a laugh: "All right, just tell him I'll catch him in a few days, and I hope his trip goes well. " Later that afternoon as Denise made herself a snack, she thought about the phone conversation she'd had earlier. Something about it kept coming back to mind. The particular way Greg's friend had stifled his laughter. It was the sound of someone exhaling through his nose then stopping it suddenly. Like the stereotypical pot head struggling to hold his lungs full of smoke. She was sure she had heard it before. She went to Greg's office and looked through his rolodex. She remembered him mentioning his friend's site, and finding a business card with a dot com and a password written in Greg's scribble, she sat down at the computer. Denise's eyes widened as she realized what kind of site she was in, and picked a gallery at random. This series started with an attractive young brunette apparently coming home from her waitress job, by the uniform she had on.

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   Standing by her bed, she removed her pink outfit and bra revealing large but perky breasts, and slid out of her white stockings and garter, leaving nothing on but a white thong. This model was gorgeous, with the requisite flat tummy, long athletic legs and heart shaped ass. She put on a black, very sheer chemise that only enhanced her (still very visible) figure, and laid down with a magazine. Soon she began to stroke herself through her panties while looking at the pictures, and then reached over and pulled three pairs of handcuffs and an impressively large dildo from the drawer of her nightstand. In the following images the brunette cuffs her ankles spread eagle to the foot of the bead, and cuffs one hand at the center of the headboard just above her head. She's careful to leave the keys just within reach on the nightstand next to her. Now with her free hand she pulls her panties to one side and begins to stroke and finger herself, the wetness soon evident in the close-ups of her pussy. Sucking on the dildo and then rubbing the head on her pink opening, the expression on her face and the tilt of her hips tell us she's in ecstasy, perhaps near orgasm. By this time, Denise's hand had already found her own pink wetness, as she drifted effortlessly into the fantasy. The next image was from the outside of the brunette's bedroom window. It's dark out, and a man is peering through the blinds, with a cell phone held to his ear. He hangs up then runs to the rear of the house. An arm extends through a broken window pane, reaching for a doorknob. Reacting to the sound of breaking glass, the panic stricken heroine reaches for the keys and drops them mere inches from her grasp. She tries to retrieve them with the dildo, but by now, the prowler is in her bedroom, and she's mortified.

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   Now on autopilot, Denise's fingers had sped up their circular massage considerably. The prowler pulls out a wicked looking knife and holds it to our heroine's throat, evidently ordering her not to scream and coercing her further cooperation. He then slices off her lingerie and panties, and mashes her breasts and pulls cruelly on her nipples. The pain and fear are now evident in her expression, enhanced by close-ups of the knife near each nipple and one of the blade pressing lightly into the flesh next to her clitoris. With the both of them now naked, the prowler straddles her chest. Her expression is of fear and utter disgust as he makes her lick his balls. A few shots of her licking up and down his shaft are soon followed by him filling her mouth forcefully with his manhood. The image of a huge cock in this pretty girls mouth, with a hand pulling her long hair and a knife at her temple, and her big brown eyes staring up at her assailant, the situation of utter guiltless submission, was having it's effect on Denise, bringing her back to the memory of that most powerful experience. Now the intruder takes the keys, and releasing her ankles, cuffs her free wrist next to the other, at the center of the headboard. He turns her over, ass end up, and shoves the dildo into her anus, taking care to turn her face up so he can see her wincing in pain. Kneeling behind her, he grabs her heavy breasts like handles and plunges his oversized member into her cunt, and from the close ups, seems to be stretching her beyond her limits. With both him and the dildo inside her, her expression now appears to show the same ecstatic bliss she was experiencing at her own hands, before the break-in. In the next frame, the prowler returns the brunette to her original position, on her back with both legs and one arm bound, and forces her to masturbate him with her free hand, so that he comes all over her face and into her open mouth. Now we see four more men that look like they might have spent time in prison. They walk into the room, each uglier, hairier and brawnier than the other.

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   The prowler leaves, smiling as he trades the handcuff keys for a roll of green bills. The last sinister image was of the four thugs standing, two on either side of the bed. The naked brunette, bound, spread and helpless, looks up at them with trepidation. . . This was all Denise needed to bring her over the edge. She leaned back in the office chair, moaning and pumping her hips as her hands continued to rub her swollen learned to enjoy pleasuring herself, but it was no substitute for the real thing. She decided she was going to get what she needed. After a quick shower, she carefully made herself up and threw on a clingy little black dress Greg had bought for her. It plunged moderately in front but had a deep V in back with only the fine shoulder straps that crossed between her shoulder blades to hold it up. Neglecting to bother with panties or stockings, she found her tallest pair of black heels, and headed towards the garage, stopping momentarily to pick up something in the laundry closet. As she arrived at her destination, she double-checked the address and the map she downloaded from the internet. This was the place, she thought to herself. I was speechless when I opened the door. Denise was a splendid vision, from her red lips down to her bare shoulders, the dewy night air making her nipples poke through the thin material of the dress that hugged her like it loved her, and all the way down her shapely legs to her tall black stilettos.

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  "Huh?" I stammered. "Oh, yes, of course! Please, do come in! I'm sorry, how impolite!" I held the door open, regaining my composure. "I didn't mean to stare, you sort of caught me off guard. " "That's quite all right," She replied demurely, with a half smile that said she wasn't entirely displeased. "Did you stop by to pick up that battery pack? You're probably on your way out to some special occasion. " I said, secretly hoping she needed a date. "Well, yes," she replied, "but I have a little time before I need to be there. I thought maybe you wouldn't mind a social visit?""By all means, please have a seat! May I offer you a drink? Perhaps a glass of Chianti?" I headed into the kitchen, not sure what to make of this visit. She was dressed to kill, in my living room, and all I could think of were those pink lips milking my johnson. Even now, it started to swell, and I adjusted myself, hoping to conceal it. As I reached for the wine glasses, I took a few deep breaths, reminding myself to keep cool. She didn't know it was me, she couldn't. As I rummaged in a drawer for the corkscrew I heard her voice from behind me:"You know, you really needn't bother. " I turned around and my jaw dropped. Denise stood before me, wearing only her high heels.

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   She was a vision of voluptuous beauty, with her large breasts and feminine hips punctuated by her hourglass waist, with legs that tapered perfectly down to her fine ankles and pretty feet. She raised her arms towards me, holding them wrists joined and facing up, with a length of clothesline draped across them. "Please make me feel like you did the other night. I can't stop thinking about it. ""It'll be our little secret. " She said. .