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
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
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