2 comments/ 25570 views/ 3 favorites A Very Delicious Surprise By: Brutalhawk I- Paying the bill It is Saturday evening. I'm just relaxing with a book as a hard and insistent ringing of the doorbell tears through the silence, snapping me out of my stillness. I look at my watch, then at the clock on the wall. Nine thirty. Who could that be? When I open the door I am surprised to see a pretty woman, with thick dark and wavy curls that frame an enchanting and earnest face. She looks like in her early twenties and is very beautiful. Wearing a long coat she eyes me without saying a thing. Just stands there. It takes a moment before I realize I know her from somewhere. Then it dawns upon me: she is that gorgeous girl who was sitting next to that big guy in his large luxurious car, the huge and shiny two-seating American convertible that last week had pulled into my repair shop. With its roof down it was a bragging display of excessive wealth, its exorbitant interior full of shiny metal, leather, plush and even fur. The guy looked as if he owned me, my shop, the world. Stone rich, big blinking rings on his manicured fingers and dressed expensively, he was white haired and his tanned face showed he'd been catching too much sun. Without even getting out, he called me from behind the wheel. If maybe I could have a look at the motor. Seemed it made some funny noises. He spoke to me loud and in a disturbingly jovial manner, as if I were a close friend owing him one. It was a bit irritating. I'd never seen him before. But a rich customer is always welcome in my small garage, whatever his behavior. And that dashing girl sitting next to him, taking off her sunglasses to reveal large sparkling eyes, smiled happily at me. She was a sight to behold. They both stayed in their seats while I found and fixed a broken part, and soon they drove off, throwing me a small gold-rimmed business card with a post box address. Good enough for me. I mailed my bill the next day, having overpriced the repair considerably. These people can pay whatever I want. And now that girl suddenly stands at my doorway. Although a bit paler in her face than last week, she still looks gorgeous. Better actually than last week, as I can now admire the full outlines of her shape. "You're the girl from that super car, aren't you?" She nods. "I've come to... eh... pay you, sir," The seriousness of her stare beautifies the light in her eyes. But she seems nervous and her face wears a somewhat forced smile, "My husband has sent me." I glance behind her onto the street. No car in sight. "What do you mean, haven't you received my bill? Bank account is on it. You don't have to come to pay me personally." "I know, sir," she says, "We got the bill, but my husband sent me anyway. Maybe I should come in?" "Of course." I step aside. One doesn't keep a woman like that on the wrong side of one's door. She enters my apartment. Her hips move like waves rippling through a quiet lake. I have to catch my breath when I take her coat, its collar adorned with a little strip of dark fur. Standing there before me in my living quarters, looking up at me with those big eyes, she is even more spectacular than when sitting with that guy in his expensive car. She's much smaller than I remember, a lot shorter than I am, but she's got contours to bite into. Sexuality radiates from her. My heart skips a beat. I show her into my living room, and soon we sit opposite each other, holding cups of tea. "So you've come to pay me?" She tries to smile again, but the corners of her mouth remain tense. "Well... yes sir." "You pay his bills?" "No sir, I don't... I mean..." She takes a sip of tea, and hesitates. "Excuse me, sir, but I've never before done this eh... kind of errand..., sir." Her words come hesitatingly and have a ring of embarrassment. "So?" I put my teacup on the table, looking at her expectantly. But instead of clarifying herself she just lowers her head in some kind of confusion, like not knowing what to say, and remains silent. I watch her breasts. They slightly heave and descend with her breathing. There is silence in the room. Until I finally break it. "Well then," I say, smiling at her, "do you bring money?" She does not answer and for quite some time we both remain silent. Finally she lifts her pretty head again and looks up at me as if wanting to tell me something. But still she remains silent. I wonder what's worrying her. Her eyes now clearly betray discomfort. I raise a brow, a question on my face. Sensing my need for an answer she finally says in a small voice: "It's not... I mean..., I have no money with me." And again there is that nervous look and the forced smile. "I don't understand. Why did you come here then? You said you came to pay, didn't you?" "Well, yes sir. But it's my husband sir, he... he has sent me to you." I am puzzled. "Is he not satisfied with the repair?" "No, no, that's OK sir," she says quickly, almost urgently. But then she falls silent once more, and watches the teacup in front of her with those large beautiful eyes. "You're talking in riddles, dear." Again no response. But after a while, looking down at the floor, she begins to speak. Softly and barely audibly. "Sir, he wants..." She hesitates, searches for the right words. "I... I mean... my husband... I mean I'm..." Faltering she stops speaking and, as if bracing herself for bravery, takes a deep breath. And then, suddenly, she bursts out crying, putting her face in her hands. Alarmed at this turn of events, my first impulse is to go up to her and put an arm around her shoulder. But I restrain myself. She's such a sexy girl that maybe that kind of behavior would be misinterpreted and make her feel even more embarrassed. So I wait until she recaptures some calm, wipes the wetness from her eyes and forces another apologetic smile. Carefully I ask: "Did I say something to hurt you?" I realize I'm afraid to speak too loud. She shakes her head, and seems to regain some control over herself. "No sir, its not that, sir, I'm sorry." She swallows. "I'm really sorry sir..." "So, what's the matter? I just don't understand. Have you lost the money or something?" "No sir," she says again, "that's not it." She swallows again several times. Then, quite unexpectedly, a dam seems to burst and she suddenly blurts it all out: "I'm here, sir, because he wants... he wants me to serve you." The words both startle and confuse me. "What? What did you say?" But she remains silent, her eyes downcast. "I'm not sure I understand," I finally say, "What do you mean?" Still keeping her gaze on her feet she softly speaks, almost in a whisper: "That's what my husband told me to say to you, sir." She is quiet for a moment. Then, barely audibly, she says: "I'm here as payment sir, you may want to use me." "What?! " Suddenly I stand at a precipitous abyss. A tense silence envelops the room. Neither of us says a thing for a long time. Finally she raises her gaze and, staring at me with a wetness glistening in her eye, tries to force another apologetic smile. Then, very slowly a deep blush colors her face. "You're blushing," I say, not knowing what else to say. "Yes sir, I know," she whispers, lowering her head now in obvious distress and humiliation. That subdued gesture tips me over the line, and in a flash I realize the full extent of her mission. Straight away my imagination runs amok. "You mean… you're to eh… I mean… if I want to…?" I gasp. There is no need to be more clear and mention my bed. She nods silently. A great surge of adrenaline injects into my veins. This is crazy! Absolutely crazy! I look at her inquisitively. This can't be serious! But it seems clear to her that her message has been received. A tear gently drops down her face as she whispers: "Yes sir… you may do with me whatever you wish, sir." The words take a long time to register. *** II - Clarifications "What's your name?" "Anna, sir." She keeps addressing me dutifully with that "sir". There is something very erotic in her use of that word, a suggestion of humility and obedience. "Tell me Anna, does your husband always pays his dues this way?" Her mouth moves almost imperceptibly. "No sir." Again she seems to look for words but, unable to find them, she remains silent. "He sent you here telling you to... eh... to offer yourself as... as payment...?" Silently se nods. I'm quiet for a moment. "And you let him?" Another nod, barely noticeable. "Forgive me Anna," I say, blood pounding in my temples, "this is rather unusual." To calm down I take a slow sip of tea, then look again at her breasts. Is this a dream? He sends his wife to me to be used as a prostitute, just for a car repair? It can't be true! I take a deep breath. Is this a trap? For want of other things to say, I ask again: "You don't object?" She raises her head and looks up at me now. There is real despondency in her eyes. "I'm not consulted, sir," she says. I am taken aback. "But..." She interrupts me: "That's how he is, sir. Likes to... I mean… kinky things, sir...." Once again she falls silent and we remain quiet for a long time. The old clock on my wall chimes ten times. I feel definitely sexually aroused, but at the same time I'm very uneasy. "Kinky eh," I finally say, as if to confirm that I understand. She looks at me, but gives no answer. "You and your husband...," I ask putting care in my voice, "are you... I mean... is this a game between the two of you, or what?" She hesitates. "No sir," she says, "It's not really a game, sir. It's just him, sir. He likes to eh… force me.. to do things with me," and softly she ads: "It's not easy sir, but I've no choice, I'm his wife." I'm not amazed. If I were married to this sexy morsel, I'd also like to do all kinds of things with her. "Has he ever asked you this sort of thing before?" She shakes her head. "No sir, never." Both of us remain quiet. In the end I put to her the only question that remains to be asked, although it might seem impertinent: "Do you love him, Anna?" She remains silent for a long time, as if making up her mind, but finally she gives a tiny affirmative nod. "Yes sir, I do," she says downcasting her eyes and blushing fiercely, "and very much. That's why I married him." *** III - First cash "Well then... why don't you come over to me here Anna, and sit next to me," I say, suddenly feeling reckless, and with a pounding heart I tap the couch besides me with the flat of my hand. To my great delight she obeys, and soon we sit close enough for me to breath in her appetizing scent. But she remains motionless. She's obviously forcing herself. Her eyes remain lowered, her hands on her knees. Waiting. I smile. "You know, Anna," I say slowly, "I feel kind of kinky myself. I might take you up on your words, I mean your husband's. What do you think?" "You may do as you wish, sir," she whispers. So, reassuring myself with some effort, I take the initiative and gently place a hand on her knee. She freezes. "Feeling uneasy?" I ask. It sounds concerned but it isn't really. Lust rises up in my body." Softly she answers: "Yes sir." I smile. "Show me your leg." I want it to be a command, and although it comes out rather kind, it works. Curling her fingers Anna begins to slowly crumple the hem of her dress up until it bares some of the soft flesh above her knee. "Higher!" She does. "Further!" She moves the material up more, stopping when a small rim of her white slip shows. "Hmmm...," I say, "That looks quite tasty. I'd like to see more of you. Go stand before me." My voice now sounds a little hoarse and inside my jeans my manhood stirs. Slowly Anna gets up from her chair, takes a few steps and faces me, downcasting her eyes. "Undress!" I am surprised by the resoluteness with which I speak the word. "Show me your husband's money." Slowly Anna obeys and begins to strip. First she steps out of her shoes and stands barefooted. Her ten little toes are lovely, the nails polished carefully in a bright tint of red. Then, slightly trembling, she unbuttons her dark blue blouse. It opens and falls off her shoulders, revealing a splendid rib case with two beautiful breasts that are held in the white lace cups of her bra. She looks up at me questionly. "Go on." She hesitates, but then she bows down a little and her hands move elegantly to her left flank. With delicate fingers she slowly unzips her skirt at the waist. It drops to her feet, revealing incredibly luscious well-formed hips and thighs that meet together beautifully at the white triangle of her slip. I notice that the lower tip of the material shows dampness. It makes my heart beat louder. Her belly is a priceless piece of art. It's pink soft flesh curves out lightly, a cute buttonhole at its top, and then slopes downhill to disappear from sight where her love mound hides behind the white slip. Trembling she lets her arms hang along her sides, keeping her head lowered, and again she blushes deeply. "You're quite wet, are you?" I ask, referring with my eyes to the dampness between her legs. She remains silent with downcast eyes, red faced, and obviously very embarrassed. "Look at me." Obediently she lifts her gaze to me. Her large eyes are beautiful, but her facial expression has become one of anxious expectation. Her lower lip flutters adorably and the color on her face deepens even further. She's become incredibly desirable. "Continue, but keep looking at me!" While keeping her eyes fixed to mine, she arches her well-formed arms behind her back to unclip her bra and then reveals her breasts. They are breathtaking. Like white fresh apples on a young fruit tree. The nipples are surprisingly big, their thick pink flesh protruding out of large aureoles. They seem to invite being sucked and chewed. I can hardly restrain myself. And then, while again I lock my eyes to hers, I tell her to lower her slip. She wavers and now the color drains from her face. But she slowly bends her head and upper body, reaching for the upper rim of her slip. What an obedient sexy kitten she is! "Keep looking at me!" Quickly her head raises again, her hair undulating on her shoulders. And thus obediently looking straight into my eyes again, she awkwardly begins to peel the flimsy white material down her so deliciously curved hips. It crumples between her legs, then falls down over her feet. With sexual greed rising, I stare in fascination at an exquisite and completely hairless love mound. Sloping inward it ends in a thin dark gash, her entrance, her way in. And like a young girl's little cleft it is modestly closed by two small but promiscuous lips. She has the most perfect rounded body I have ever seen. I am thrilled. When I look at her face there is fierce embarrassment and a new twinkling tear on her pale cheek. I just love the sight. This display of reluctant submission arouses me enormously. "Turn around, I want to see all of that juicy body of yours." The blush returning to her face, she obediently turns, showing me her body's backside. For minutes I watch her standing like that. Her back is supple and slender. And she has a small, almost boy-like behind with two little deliciously round cheeks. She would make a great dancer. That's when I notice the faint slightly darkened lines. *** IV - Flaring desires They cover the smooth skin of her back, running from her fragile neck to the roundness of those lovely buttocks. Although hard to discern, they are telling remains of what must have been a vicious whipping of that tender body. I look for more evidence. And I find it. The skin around her wrists and ankles is slightly reddened. Ominous signs of the frequent use of rope or maybe handcuffs. I'm fascinated. "Turn around again little girl, and look at me!" She obeys and moves to meet my eyes again. Her blushed face now bears a blank expression. "You're quite a little masochist, are you?" I say, and I smile. In a wordless response her cheeks turn crimson. "Down!" I command, "On all fours!". She is quick to obey. I watch her like that for a long time. Her breasts hang like small ripe pears from her body. "You're a real smutty slut," I say and push her hanging breasts with the tip of my shoe. They are quite soft and I make them swing. She does not reply, just remains on all fours before me. "Want to be fucked?" No answer. "Answer me!" Just four little soft words: "If you wish, sir." "I asked if you want to be fucked! Give me a proper answer!" "Nnn... no sir," she stammers. There is a tremor in her voice now. She's on the verge of crying. "I… I don't sir.... but if you..." It's all she manages to say as fresh tears appear. "So you don't, eh?" A slight shake of her head. "Say it, girl! Say you don't want to be fucked!" "I don't want it, sir... to be fucked, sir." "Louder!" "I DON'T WANT TO BE FUCKED, SIR!," she screams, half crying now. "Good!", I say, "But I am going to fuck you! So what do you say to that, little girl?" No reply. "I asked you something! What do you say?" Her voice is reduced to a hoarse whisper, "I'm just payment, sir. You can do with me whatever you wish, sir." "Whatever, eh?" "Yes sir." "Come over to me then, and sit here like a nice little doggy. Apparently somewhat relieved she crawls toward me and sits before me on her knees, looking at me with that beautiful face close to my lap. She trembles. Lovely. "Listen, Anna, I'm going to fuck you. And you can't help it. You're such a sexy piece. I'm going to tremendously enjoy that body of yours." "Yes sir." "You're so... what can I say..., that obedience of yours, it really makes me feel sadistic." "Yes sir... as you wish, sir." "Well then, that's good," I say, and gently I caress her cheek, "Let's see if I can make that pretty face of you cry." And with the flat of my hand I slap her hard. She jumps as if stung by a wasp. Her head jerks back making her hair flow wild as she shrinks away from me. But I grip her by a thick lock of hair, and pull her back towards me. "That was nice," I say with abroad smile, not letting go of her hair. "It's lovely to see you in pain, let's have more of it! Put your hands behind your back!" She does, and while I firmly hold her head, I hit that beautiful face again, this time with much more strength. Tears spring to her eyes like fountains. I hit her again... and again! Harder and harder. It's a sight to behold. Her eyes are wide with fear now and she begins to cry in a high squeaky voice, wet tears flowing in all directions. And I just continue slapping her. Can't get enough of it. It fires up my sexual appetite to unknown heights, and I'm rock hard in my pants. When I've finally had enough and let go of her, she falls down sobbing below my feet. "Get up!" I command and to my surprise she obeys immediately. There are big smears of mascara around her eyes. With a nod of my head I indicate the direction of the bathroom. "Get your cunt over there! I want your body soaped and fresh like a baby before I fuck it." *** V - The shower Like an anxious child she stands in helpless nakedness between the white tiles of my big open shower, a gleaming water pipe behind her, her face a grimace of fear, one arm half covering her breasts, the other down, its hand shielding the little hill of her intimacy. I leave her standing like that and begin to undress myself in front of her, enjoying the alarm with which she watches my stoutly risen manhood. When I step in aside her, she instinctively moves towards a corner of the booth. I smile and take her head into my hands, forcing her towards me. For a brief moment I drink in the fright in her eyes for being beaten again. But I don't. Instead I put my mouth hard over hers, pressing her face and then all of her full soft body forcefully against me. But she doesn't open her mouth for me. So I bite her lips. It's an unbelievable delicacy. And the flesh of her body, so warm and vibrant, is incredibly sensual. Pushing her arms away my hands probe her breasts. She begins to tremble violently. My fingers descend to knead her belly, and suddenly I grip her sex. She gives an acute high-pitched whimper and sags through her knees. But I hold her up with one arm and smile. She's definitely wet between her legs. "You little masochistic whore," I mumble in her ear. Her eyes in horrid shame, she tries to push me away with both hands. "I'm not a whore, sir," she breaths. Finally she shows some spirit. "What are you then," I laugh, but I let go of her. She staggers back to the tiles, her hands in a reflex recovering herself where I touched her so offensively, and fear flickering in her eyes like a frightened animal. "I'm a married woman, sir," she says softly in a choking voice. A Very Delicious Surprise "I see," I say with feigned empathy, enjoying the sorry state she's in, and then I turn the tap. Suddenly we are both immersed in warm water. A fresh whimper escapes her. I take the showerhead off its hook, and direct the streaming water straight at her breasts, which she again has covered with a folded arm. "Show them to me!" Slowly she obeys and lowers her arm, but the expression of anxiety remains on her face. "Soap them!" I hand her my shower gel, turning the showerhead away. Hesitantly she takes the soap, brings her other hand up too, and begins to slowly rub her young breasts, her gaze still fixed on mine for fear I might do something unexpected. Soon both breasts are covered with thick soapy foam. "That's enough," I say, as her large nipples, now grown firm and stiff, poke through the bubbling froth. I redirect the shower at her breasts and wash away the soap. She closes her eyes and holds her breath. "Now that lovely cunt of yours," I command, and I hand her the soap again. "And do it thoroughly, especially inside. I don't want to fuck that little slit between your legs with the remains of your husband's cum still inside." She blushes crimson again and bends over while, like a frightened child, keeping her eyes on me. Slowly she lathers that sweet bald mound of hers with both hands. "I said inside too. Put your fingers in and clean yourself!" It's a great sight. The moment she pushes her soaping fingers inside the vestige of her shame, her mouth opens but she remains silent and fresh tears roll down her face. When I have enjoyed enough of this degradation I order her to put her hands behind her back. "And spread your legs!" She does. "Wider!" I splash her abdomen with much water, holding the showerhead close to her crotch. She gives a shrill cry as I push a thumb and finger in. A really lovely cunt. Her flesh is as warm as the water and closes promisingly tight around my probing fingers. "When did your husband fuck you the last time?" I ask, retracting my fingers. She begins to cry loud now, with big sobs, shaking her head, and stammers she doesn't know. "You don't know?" Between her sobs she manages to bring out a few words. "No sir... some… some time ago, sir." Now I push the showerhead straight into the softness of her sex, injecting her with sprouts of spurting water. For a moment she staggers, then drops down to the floor, water showering again all over her small body, her eyes in horrid fear, my standing member like a drawn sword close to her frightened face. "Get on all fours!" She crawls up and moves her supple body onto hands and knees on the slippery basin of the shower. I get behind her and push those little round cheeks apart. A tiny pink anus ring shows. I rudely insert a finger and rotate it inside. She cries out: "Aaaucch!" "Keep still girl, I want you clean," I say, pulling out my finger, "Go soap your self inside there." Still softly crying she obeys, using one hand to soap her behind and, even without me having to tell her specifically, inserting a foamy finger to clean herself inside. After showing me that finger as evidence she's free from impurities, her hand returns to move up and down, soaping the smooth crease between her buttocks. Her sobs gradually diminish and she begins to breath faster. "Get up girl, now clean me." With some effort she rises as I put the showerhead back on its hook in the wall. While the water keeps streaming down our bodies, she takes my soap again and starts rubbing my chest, then my back, in large circles, moving her hands deliciously around my body. After a while, she asks permission to clean me "between your legs, sir." Softly and gently her delicate fingers begin to knead and soap my balls, massaging them respectfully. She really is a highly skilled expert, a top graduate from Sex University. Her face looks up at me and she even produces a thin uncertain smile. My breath quickens faster and faster, as my mind seems to cave in on itself. Soon I feel her other hand glide soapy over my buttocks. Then it moves in between them. I gasp as a finger touches my anus, enters me. I close my eyes in ecstasy as the finger moves deep inside me, and a moan of pleasure escapes from my throat. I have to steady myself by grabbing handfuls of her hair. Then, teasingly slow, she pulls her finger out again. I want to scream that I want it back in. But with my mind in dizzy heaven, I can't find the words fast enough. And before I know, her hand has rounded my body and closes firmly around my shaft. Slowly, she slides it up and down. I am aflame in burning lust. "Stop it!" I yell. She startles terrified and immediately stops touching me, fright returning to her eyes. "Step out you little whore, I'll rub you dry." *** V - Finale She lies next to me in bed, rigidly and on her back. Motionless. "What's the matter? Never been fucked before?" "No sir... "What? Never been fucked?!" "Only by my husband, sir." "Never had any other man inside you?" She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "No sir, he never wanted that." She's getting close to crying again. "And you? Have you wanted it?" "No sir, certainly not, I'm not dirty like that." I smile and slowly caress a breast, its large nipple hardening again below my touch. "So you are a virgin of sorts, are you?" "Sir..." she says, looking into my eyes pleadingly, "please be kind, sir, it's really my first time..." Suddenly and unexpectedly she presses her face against my chest, tears flowing freely. She cries in long wails, her whole body shaking. Still gently stroking her breasts I pull her closer, softly petting her teary face, consolingly. Thus we remain until she's calms herself a little. I'm hugely aroused. "You're a great girl, Anna," I say, taking her chin in my hand and rolling her head back, so I can watch her close up. Slowly I lower my face, and drinking in her scent I push my mouth on hers like I did in the shower, but again she keeps her yaws tightly closed. "Open your mouth!" She does. I watch a row of small white teeth and the yummy wet alcove they enclose. Then I push my mouth upon hers again, plunging my tongue deep inside. Coughing, half choking, she protests and tries to shake her head free. But it only makes me wilder. Sucking in her tongue I bite into it. A stifled cry emerges from her and she tries to fight me off with her hands, pulling my hair. But I wallow in the pleasure her agony. When I finally let her chin out of my grip, she cries and rolls her head back and forth on my pillow. Her eyes are pressed shut and there is a touch of red in the spittle at the corner of her mouth. After a while she does seem to calm down a little, but the intermittent shiverings of her body, like the eruptions of small earthquakes, make my sexual energies surge high. I take my mouth to a breast and bite into the delicious nipple. She gives off a hard scream and mows her arms wildly, tearing not only at my hair but also at my chest and shoulders. With glee I inspect the teeth marks left in the delicate skin around her aureole. Then I begin to feast on the other breast. She's fighting me wildly now, kicking with her legs, screaming in pain and beating me with fists. Finally I let go and she falls back into the pillows. It takes a long time before her screaming peters out to a blubbering sobbing. "That hurts badly, doesn't it?" I ask, knowing the answer. She doesn't answer. Her eyes are still tightly closed and her face is still wet with tears. But gradually, very slowly, she seems to calm a little. Well, did I hurt you?" I ask again. She faintly nods, and opening her eyes to look at me, says softly: "Very much, sir, it was terrible." I look at her as she lies so adorably besides me. "Want me to use some rope so you can't use your hands to beat me off?" She doesn't answer. Just heaves her bitten breasts in a last suppressed sob. I'm not sure she understood me. "Answer me, you little masochistic whore!" She opens her eyes wide. And for the first time she looks at me with the eyes of a submissive lover. I smile. "Well?" Again she takes her time before answering, still slowly regaining her calm, and she watches me long and intensely. At last she nods, barely perceivably but affirmatively, silently moving her head for just a tiny millimeter. I get out of bed and leave the room to find what I need. When I get back she still lies there with her eyes wide open and breathing regularly. What a precious gem she is! I climb back on to the bed. "Put your arms over your head." She does, and I seat myself upon her upper body, pressing her breasts lustfully between my thighs. "Give me your hand!" I take the arm she submissively holds up to me, and I tie her wrist to the overhead corner post of the bed. She closes her eyes and with a hesitant movement offers me her other arm, which I also tie at the wrist. To the other corner post. A moan flows from her mouth. She's in heat. When, upon my command, she opens her eyes again, I show her the black leather belt, taken from my pants on the floor of the bathroom. "See this?" "Yes sir," she says hoarsely, and under my thighs I feel her breathing accelerate. The blush on her face has become fierce. I scramble up from my knees and stand astride over her, sinking my feet in the mattress. Her beautiful restrained body lies helpless between my legs, below the menace of my fierce manhood. Looking up at me, waiting like that, she is the most breathtaking flower I've ever seen. She screams even before my belt lashes through the air and bites into her breasts. She jerks on her bound wrists and in a reflex brings up her knees, hitting me from behind, almost knocking me over. I hit her breasts again and watch with fascination as she writhes in pain, screaming and gulping for air, twisting her lustful body deliciously. Two dark weals quickly surface on the delicate skin of those young quavering breasts. My next lash hits her belly and greedily I drink in her fresh screams, her violent attempts to tear her wrists loose, the vicious air trampling of her legs, and the rolling of her supple torso from one side to the other. Thus I continue whipping the delectable body of the girl below me, enjoying her anguish and desperation, as she screams her lungs out, trashing her thighs around in raging hysteria, unable to evade the horrific ordeal of red pain. And when, with a ferocious swipe, I smash my belt right into the exquisite flesh of her love pit, she violently throws her loins high and, in a huge spastic folding reflex, clutches the barbarous leather between her thighs, producing such a fierce shrieking that I fear she'll lose her mind. Delirious now with excitement, I pull the whip from between her legs, drop it and let myself fall upon her jerking body, forcing my loins between those fleshy thighs that trample savagely to keep me out. But I pry them open, and while she twists deliciously below me, I enter her forcefully, pushing myself right into that narrow intimate furrow between her legs, like a power drill sinking in soft wood. She gasps and produces a long drawn out wail, heaving her legs around me, trashing wildly with her hips. Impaled and helpless to do anything but wriggle divinely below my sweaty body, her extended arms imprisoned, I fuck her like an raging bull, kneading her breasts and kissing and mouthing her teary face like my life depends on it. Gradually the chaotic sounds that leave her mouth reduce to a throaty moaning. Then, quite suddenly, she begins to return my savagery by kissing me feverishly. That breaks the last straw of my self-control, and with a massive thrust into her body I empty my balls deep inside her, sprouting like a mountain river. She gives a huge cry and explodes into orgasmic spasms so tight and so prolonged, that it wrings out every last drop of my precious seed in final convulsive spurts from my manly spear. For minutes I lie on top of Anna, my face on hers. Exhausted and immensely satisfied our mutual panting gradually changes to a more regular breathing pattern and slowly peace descends on our bed. Anna starts to kiss me again, long and avidly, all over my face, stopping only when I finally pull out of her, and roll myself off her body. After I release her wrists, she uses her freed arms to embrace me and once more kisses me intensely. Then she curls up like a baby and, moving her ravished body smugly into the safehold of my arms, falls asleep almost right away. *** VI The promise I'm showering when she enters the bathroom, still looking groggy from sleep. I smile. "Can I come in with you, sir?" she asks timidly, watching the water splash down my body. I look at the signs of yesterday's wrecking of her naked body. The marks of my teeth and the welts left by my belt still stand out on her delicate skin. Remains of dried seed cover her still swollen vulva and even shimmer in thin flakes on the flesh of her inner thighs. I filled her up quite well. For a moment I consider her question. "No, I'd rather keep you soiled like this," I decide. "When you get back home, your husband should clearly see the bill has been paid. She blushes adorably. "And," I add, "don't wear a slip, I want you to keep yourself vulnerable. And besides, it would wipe the evidence from between your legs." "Yes sir," she says softly, and lowers her gaze. But all through breakfast she carries a sweet smile on her pretty face. When she leaves, I lift her dress to see if she's indeed not wearing her slip. She isn't. And blushes. I tell her to kiss me good-bye. "As you wish sir," she whispers once again. Then she looks deep into my eyes and offers herself high on her toes to be wrapped in my arms. I do, and press her fine body against me. Instantly she closes her arms around me, and a great surge of happiness rises in my chest as we find ourselves in a fierce and long embrace, kissing each other passionately, as only parting lovers do. Just before she shuts my front door behind her, she turns to face me. "Hope to see you again sir," she says, "I'll ask my husband to bring in the car again." And with a charming smile she ads: "For regular service, sir."