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Mr. Norton From Next Door

By: Quin



He was fifty-odd and just a little overweight, around five-nine, and beginning to go bald. Though he was a pleasant man he always came across as a serious sort, smiling but never laughing; a friendly man, always ready to help out. I was not tall, five feet four aged twenty-five, but with generous well shaped breasts, though not massive and my shapely legs and hips made men admire and look twice.

It felt funny, in a weird sort of way to notice that the safe Mr Norton was ogling me. That day, I was leaning against the kitchen worktop on the phone to my friend while the man was bent down under the sink tightening a loose joint. I first noticed his crafty looks trying to see that little bit further up my skirt as he shifted around. Never would I have associated Mr Norton with anything remotely connected to sex, which was why it all seemed strange. (I never would have imagined that he ever thought of me in a sexual way.)

Was he getting hard -- did he fantasise what it would be like to fuck me? I wasn't even sure just how much he could see. Up to that point I had been having a joke with my friend about what opportunities I would have to misbehave the following week given that my husband was going away and hadn't meant it to sound as though we really did intend to go off the rails; Mr Norton clearly wouldn't have known that.

I felt devilish and wicked, moving my hips and turning my body to the side I teased the man keeping just far enough away to prevent him from seeing all the way up to my crotch.

"Yeah!" I told my friend knowing the man was listening, "I was ready for some excitement; we will go out and make the most of my freedom."

Norton caught my eye and the look on his face sent a shiver through me. Suddenly there was a sexual charge in the air; to him, in his mind I was making serious plans, sexual plans, letting him hear every word while I stood over him, happily allowing him to ogle and lust over me, see up my skirt, (well, most of the way!). I looked down at the man while he gazed up at me, our eyes fixed on each other.

"I have a man here now," I told my friend (who was already aware that it was only old Mr Norton who was there with me) lowering the tone and volume of my voice, "But he won't say anything -- he won't tell on me." I covered the receiver so Brenda's raucous laughter couldn't be heard.

Wickedly I dared to take a small step nearer to the man, not being too obvious I let a foot slide making my thighs spread wider as I leaned sideways on to the counter. It felt terrific and exciting, such bad behaviour -- now I knew he really would be able to see the gusset of my panties. In my head I couldn't decide whether I should eventually confess to him that I was only joking and teasing him about going out on the town or whether to test his loyalty, say nothing but tell my husband all about it and see if he got a call from our neighbour.

Brenda had to go, so we rung off. Norton's eyes were fixed on my crotch and he wasn't bashful about letting me see his lewd stares. I was quite astounded as I expected him to have shyly looked away embarrassed but I felt a strange compulsion to remain where I was, to let him carry on looking. The atmosphere was a little tense now I was off the phone, it was very silent.

"You're a very pretty and sexy looking young woman; it shouldn't be difficult for you," he suddenly said.

How weird it was talking to this, to me, elderly neighbour while almost standing over him, legs spread unladylike.

"What shouldn't?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Finding some fun," he said calmly without any trace of light heartedness or humour, "When your husband goes away."

I was stunned by his comment. He kept letting his eyes go from meeting mine to blatantly staring at my crotch; somehow that increased my feelings of nervous excitement.

"Do you not disapprove?" I asked shocked at my audacity to pursue this conversation while I continued to let him enjoy the view of my panties.

He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his wrench, "If you were my wife you would have to pay a price," he said curiously.

I gave a laugh, "What the hell does that mean?" My mind was already conjuring up several possibilities -- most of them very intriguing. "You mean you would allow her to have her fun -- but she would have to submit to some sort of forfeit?"

Norton slowly began to rise from his kneeling position fixing his eyes on me making my tummy turn over. He stood close, intimidating, almost menacing -- but oddly arousing.

His voice was low in volume, his words measured and slowly spoken, which added to the tension, "You are one of those women who needs something different from time to time. Not one who wants to disrupt her life totally, but has needs, craves certain pleasures, ones that don't come from regular married life."

I grinned but felt uncomfortable, "You're talking nonsense Mr Norton" I laughed. "So if your wife was such a person you would accept she needs to satisfy those urges -- but you would make her pay; how would you do that Mr Norton? Are you speaking from experience?" 

The idea that the Norton's had lived such an unconventional life was more than interesting but seemed unlikely.

He was standing so close that a whiff of body odour reached my nostrils, the smell of sweat from a workman. His eyes seemed to burrow into my mind and the nervousness took away my breath making me pant, my chest visibly rising and falling, appearing to me, when I became aware of it, to be sexual and potentially arousing for both he and me!

He took time to think before answering, "I won't discuss my wife or marriage, we are talking about you -- everyone is different. Some may find enjoyment in an act while another might regard it as punishment -- some may enjoy the punishment."

Mr Norton was surely a very spooky man.

"What if I told you that I have been teasing you -- winding you up?" I decided to come clean though I suspected that this would not be enough as this conversation had already changed our relationship and the way I thought of him.

"Then I too, apart from your husband should have the right to make you pay a price -- but I don't fully believe you. I know you are a woman who would delight in taking advantage of your husband's absence if temptation came your way." 

Norton let his voice slow down and his eyes narrowed, a sinister just discernable grin appeared on his face as he added, "If you have been trying to ridicule me then you should submit to me dishing out an appropriate form of punishment."

I shivered and felt a tremble in my tummy -- but was it a feeling of excitement and arousal rather than fright or terror?

"You wouldn't have known if I hadn't have told you -- do I get let off -- credit for honesty? And I would only have to pay a price for being unfaithful if my husband caught me Mr Norton."

I did feel silly, finding myself encouraging this game, this mental jousting, knowing that I probably now sounded quite as bizarre as the old man. Nevertheless I carried on winding him up, provoking him.

He studied me, and not normally expected from Mr Norton he let his stare linger on my tits making me feel on edge.

"Is it usually the victim that gets to personally punish the perpetrator?"

I laughed, "Now you're stretching a point -- would you think you have the right to punish me if you found out I had been with another man? You're just the neighbour from next door -- I'd expect you to keep your nose out of it!"

He smiled as he bent to pick up a strip of leather that he used to hold his battered toolbox together.

"Well, I'll make do with chastising you for trying to ridicule me."

As I began to turn away harbouring the excitedly wicked intention of faking a need to bend forward to open a cupboard, and flash a little bit of my white knickers for him I unwisely went a step further. Not prepared to let him even begin to deliver some sort of sanctimonious moral lecture I did bend over and push out my bottom giggling as I did so.

"So you think I ought to let you spank my little bum do you?"

I felt the strap make contact with my backside, striking across both cheeks with a crack. It didn't really hurt but immediately I was stopped in my tracks, astounded and shocked. Never would I have believed that my neighbour, strange as he was sometimes, would have the audacity or nerve, to do something so outlandish, so forbidden!

I didn't know what the hell to say or do and cried out when he delivered another blow, this time making me tense up tightening my bottom cheeks. Now it really did sting.

"Mr Norton!" I gasped. He answered with another lash, this time coming up vertically to catch me between the legs. "Oh, my goodness!" I cried.

Now I was facing away from him, scared and too humiliated to turn around already feeling the stinging pain turn into a burning throb. I was for a time paralysed with awe fright and shock.

"You really should not be doing that Mr Norton!" I scolded, with more than a little nervousness in my tone.

"Well, you really shouldn't have displayed your panties to me while I was knelt down." The leather slapped against my upper thighs, just hard enough to make me wince and jerk my arse forward.

"Should you not?"

"No!" I answered meekly wondering why I was so easily admitting to my brazenly sexual antics -- but it was fact -- I should not have done it! "Were you trying to arouse me -- make me lust over you?" he asked flicking his wrist to make the strap slap against my thighs. 

I was almost dancing as the stinging sensation caused my bum and legs to wobble as I tried to absorb the burning slaps.

"No, not really -- well, not lust, just surprise you, turn you on, make you hot under the collar. I didn't mean any harm!" 

I winced as he brought the lash down with more force across my arse.

"You wanted to arouse me -- sexually?" he demanded.

"Well, yes! Please stop now!"

The leather made contact again, between my legs, not once, or twice, but continually in short snaps -- hitting the most sensitive of places.

"Mr Norton, please, this is silly!"

Another lash came up between my legs in line with my pussy slit.

"Now show me your panties -- now - do it! Dare you do it now -- and pay the price?"

I was astonished but couldn't think straight due to the constant whips, that varied in time making me falsely anticipate when the next one would strike which, to add to my humiliation, reduced me to wriggling my arse as I stiffened, attempting to absorb the blows. When the whack did come my arse muscles tensed then relaxed, before tightening again as I expected another stinging lash, but when it didn't come the feeling was weirdly electrifying.

I heard the menacingly demanding whisper of the old man's voice.

"Show me -- bend forward!"

Why would I obey the pervert? Why would I want to indulge him in his oddball kinks? Did he expect me to beg him to leave me alone? Did he want to see me cry? What if I showed him that I was stronger -- called his bluff -- he would be the one to back down?

I tried it; I stayed exactly where I was, supporting myself with my arms on the work counter and bent just far enough forward to give him a little show.

I heard the snap of the leather thong between my legs before I felt the burning sharp pain. It was not enough to make me scream but enough to make me yelp and tighten my buttocks. As they relaxed involuntarily I received a further physical and mind-blowing shock as Mr Norton's big hand spanked my arse hard.

"This is the price you pay -- but like I say, some people find much pleasure from the punishment itself."

As I tried to protest my voice faltered every time the hand whacked my arse cheeks. The leather strap was now alternating with the smacks but had changed from stinging blows to sharp little well aimed flicks hitting my swollen pubes. As my arse went forward under the mercy of Mr Norton's big hands spanking my cheeks my hips wriggled at the feel of leather against my pussy. Now, if the man decided to increase the intensity and speed of slap and lash he could make me simulate the action of a woman who was exciting herself on a rampant cock. Sometimes he did just that making me thrust back and forth, then he would make me slow down, to perform what must have appeared from behind to be a very wanton and sexy wriggle of my backside. 

Mr Norton's hand firmly pulled my skirt over my hips and I imagined the sight he would be able to see, my white panties pulled tightly across my arse -- and maybe, to my utter horror, he would see between my legs the bulging vulva and wet patch created by that constant tormenting but strangely tantalising leather strap agitating my cunt. I didn't object when Mr Norton left his hand on my throbbing hot bottom, but still flicked the strap under my legs.

Though the old man continued to smack my bottom with his bare hand the blows came unpredictably and varied in ferocity. The 'intervals' when his hand would slowly rub my arse or squeeze a buttock forced me to concentrate on the teasing of the leather strap as it flicked over my vaginal slit and because it inflicted a brief but intense pain when it made contact with the tenderness of my inner thigh I widened my stance; much to the man's delight I think.

Now those intervals between slaps began to have an unexpected and astounding affect. Occasionally I would tense my arse muscles then relax them moving my hips and torso in such a way that the action, together with the mental anguish of not knowing when he would strike made me feel amazingly sexually aroused. He had seemed to fold the strap to make it firm whereby he was able to leave it in place against the line of my slit and when he started to draw it to and fro I moaned finding myself quite easily tempted to 'work' my groin on it like I was pleasuring myself.

The big hand slid round my waist to massage my lower belly and as I relaxed and bathed in the sheer sexual joy I felt the strap suddenly removed and shockingly I let out a disapproving complaining groan. A sharp whip across the arse cheeks was my punishment for complaining making me scream -- then the leather returned to it's place between my legs to continue to excite my cunt. Mr Norton was making me hungry for more, forcing me to enthusiastically enjoy the strap while I could, before it was removed again. And it was, for longer and longer periods the delicious sensation of the leather thong that tantalised my clitoris disappeared from between my legs to chastise my backside, sending a hot searing pain through my body. I cried and moaned and begged glad that the thin cotton of my panties provided at least some sort of barrier, some protection from the strap. I hoped, in a saner moment that no welts or angry stripes would be visible before the next time my husband saw me naked.

To my shame I have to confess that in those periods when the strap returned to my pussy I would bawdily and lewdly rotate and thrust my hips against the strap panting and moaning in a most disgusting way making the most of it's presence.

I eventually fooled Mr Norton! I was eager, desperate, like a drug addict craving her next fix. I wanted to savour the very maximum of sexual pleasure -- an orgasm. I waited, sobbing, while the strap returned to excite my cunt then closed my thighs and trapped it hard bending my knees to increase contact with my wet pussy then I fucked it fast and hard -- I fucked the leather strap. Mr Norton must have conceded defeat for he allowed it to happen and held it in place for me, even sliding it back and forth slowly but never trying to extract it though I had it clamped so tightly I slid back and forth with it. My banshee-like moaning that accompanied my very powerful orgasm let the man know the extent of sexual joy he had delivered up for me there in my kitchen on that otherwise quiet afternoon.

There was no uncomfortable aftermath or deep recriminations caused by pangs of guilt or troubled conscience.

"There, I've proved my point, several of them in fact," said a smug Mr Norton; "You can easily be tempted to enjoy illicit sex when husband is out of the way. And also my point that some enjoy the punishment and pain as much as they do the pleasure!"

I remained silent as he gathered his tools and left without uttering another word

I stayed there in a mental fog, in a trancelike state, but as rational thought returned I wondered; would I be brazen enough to continue to allow my neighbour to visit -- especially next week when my husband would be away? I felt astonished at the way I had allowed the incident to turn into something so intensely sexual and to reach to such an amazing finale. As my neighbour considered it inevitable that I would use my husband's absence as an excuse to pick up another man for some fun (because I was that sort of woman) then should I test the theory -- and explore the opportunities? The next thoughts were to wonder just exactly what I would be capable of?

I could then tell Mr Norton that either he was wrong -- or confess to him details of my wicked misdeeds and tell him that he was right. Though inevitably, there would be a price to pay!

Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 02



Brian my husband had just got off the phone. I felt apprehensive, for the understandable reason that the person he had been talking to was Mr Norton. My husband was due to set off on Sunday morning, off on his trip and had been making arrangements.

"Why did you call Mr Norton? I asked him meekly.

"Oh, well, to thank him for fixing the kitchen sink for one thing," he answered.

"And the other reason?"

"I've asked him to keep an eye on you and the house. If you need anything sorting out while I'm gone just give him a shout," Brian said.

What a statement I thought! Should I feel the need of a spanking perhaps; or if I craved a little chastisement mixed with sexual stimulation – then I should call Norton? Funny how the pictures that kept creeping back into the forefront of my mind were of how another person might have viewed the scene; how my bottom was presented to Norton, of exactly what detail was visible, my movements and gyrations – and most of all, the red lines and glowing cheeks undulating as my arse wriggled and wobbled. It seemed strange to me that another person's perspective, and not my own, could arouse me in such a powerful way. Surely enough my own eyes had only been able to stare at the kitchen counter 

So just what was it that aroused me, and brought me to orgasm? Was it the submissiveness, the offering up of my arse to this weird neighbour, being scared but excited, not knowing just how hard and violent the lashes would come, falling across my backside? The sensation of stinging pain that turned into a hot throbbing glow definitely produced inside me a sensuous pleasure, depraved and kinky though it was. 

Had I found it arousing to be displaying my panties, showing how the tight skimpy material creased and gathered before almost disappearing in my anal crack then eaten totally by my damp swollen pubes? I needed to concentrate on my husband's words now because my mind was wandering, thinking about the 'What if?' - I was feeling wet and sexy. What if, another man had been there, watching? Just toying with the thought, the very idea was thrilling and exciting!

"I don't need keeping an eye on!" I snapped, "You've no right to do that – have someone spy on me."

"Hey, cool down! It's mainly for my peace of mind. If I wanted to spy on you there would be point asking old Norton would there?"

I looked at my husband, sensing more than a little sarcasm but scared of what the old man might have said.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, if you're going to misbehave it will be when you're out with Brenda! Norton's not likely to see that is he? I saw her yesterday and she told me that you'd both arranged a night out - or two – while I'm away. It's me who ought to be angry; you kept it from me."

"No! She's being presumptuous, I never actually agreed to go out!"

"It's fine," said Brian, staring me in the eye, "You are no different than other wives."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's what wives do isn't – and also we husbands!"

Brian knew how to wind me up.

"Look, I'm not going to get manic if you chat to some guys in a bar, or even have the odd dance. Hell, you must know that sometimes I'm in female company on the courses and conferences I have to attend. You know we have disco's and free bars so we can bond and socialise."

"You dance and flirt and...fuck! What else do you do?" I was livid now.

"No, I don't do that bit - fuck!" Brian smirked. "Don't try to tell me that you and Brenda don't eye up other men and enjoy male company."

"Yes, I admire other guys occasionally. But I don't bloody well normally go out! How can I flirt?"

Brian often came out with really stupid gags. "For all I know you might flirt with old Norton!" he laughed.

My husband looked calmly at me and spoke slowly, "Listen, all I'm saying is that I expect you to know where to draw the line if you find yourself in a certain situation. I know! Okay, there may be a lot of joking and talking, and a bit of smooching, dancing close, and a friendly peck of a kiss. It's all harmless stuff – but if you go out and find yourself doing the same – know where to draw the line. A friendly goodnight kiss is the limit."

He had shocked me with this eye-opening brutally honest divulgence.

"I think I will go out with Brenda!" I screamed mentally.

Tired from all the hard study? Fatigued after returning home from yet another conference? Right! What's good for the gander will be fine for me when I get goosed!

Sunday morning was a mess. Brian overslept and went off bad tempered. It wasn't due to any bad feeling between us mind; on the contrary, we had been awake late into the night, sex was passionate and we went at it like two rampant dogs. Maybe our thoughts were somewhere quite different. Or perhaps we both experienced a certain feeling of release and freedom, feelings that excited us, anticipating and wondering what delights and interesting encounters might be in store for us; free for us to enjoy, within certain limitations!

In the cold light of the morning though an annoying hassle ruled our mood. I opened the door, half asleep and caring not one jot as to who should be knocking at such an early hour.

"I wanted to catch Brian before he left – but I noticed his car's gone."

Well figured out Sherlock Holmes! I thought, scratching my unkempt hair. Briefly a thought fluttered through my foggy head, asking why, being in my nightclothes, I had stood to one side holding open the door like it was an invitation for him to come on in. Suddenly I was conscious that he was running his eyes up and down my legs, pausing when he reached my groin. I was glad that I had put my little knickers back on under the too-big tee shirt that passed as nightwear, and was just able to hide a few inches of upper thigh.

Normally I would never dream of answering the door in such a state of undress but after what transpired the other day – did it matter? Old Norton would never see me misbehave - so my husband said! Now he was trying to see if his eyes were able to penetrate the thin cotton that hid my wobbling tits, my nipples teasingly formed little bumps, pressing against the cloth advertising that underneath was nakedness. Did I care? Was I secretly thrilled to notice the effect it was having on him, how he was beginning to show signs of arousal?

Norton bored me with detailed explanations of why he wanted to speak to Brian. Not even half listening I walked over to the kettle then rudely turning my back to the old man waited for the water to boil. I plunged a spoon into the coffee jar and deposited it into a beaker trying to decide if I was the one displaying bad manners or was it Norton who ought not have lingered at this early hour knowing I wasn't yet dressed or even fully awake. In any case, hadn't I already told him he was too late to speak to my husband? So why was he impolitely hanging about? Well, considering the obvious reason (which, finally, I was honest enough to admit was nothing to do with bad manners) began to cause feelings of devilish recklessness, and a desire to torment the man.

"Would you like a coffee?" I asked, without turning around or even waiting until he had finished a sentence.

I didn't wait for an answer. He took sugar; I knew that. I would have to stretch my arm high to open the cupboard to get another beaker. What would he be able to see now as my tee shirt rode up? Of course he liked it white so he may have liked to watch as I stretched inside the fridge. Clumsily I accidentally pushed the small tea towel off the counter and had to bend to pick it up. What would he see now?

I more or less, to all accounts and purposes acted as though he wasn't really there, not facing him, not acknowledging anything he said. He grew silent, save for the sound of him sipping from the beaker. I bent and stretched and reached as I would when alone. I wondered how thin my shirt was, if it would become transparent if I stood against the light; I decided to wash the pile of crockery dumped after my husband's hurried breakfast and last nights supper so stood beside the sink bathing in the warmness and bright sunshine that poured through the window. Mr Norton drew in a deep breath.

"Are you looking forward to the week ahead?" he asked after a long silence.

"In what way do you mean?" I queried, feeling little butterflies in my tummy now because I knew this signalled the start of what the man hoped would be an opportunity to indulge his fetish.

I saved him having to explain. "Brian knows now that I intend to go out with Brenda. He even expects and, more importantly, accepts, that I may find myself in the company of, and drinking, with other men! Now what do you think of that Mr Norton?"

Norton didn't mince his words. "I think you will enjoy the satisfaction of feeling you have his blessing and permission to flirt. A freedom that will leave you easily tempted to go a step further, several steps in fact. I would be willing to bet that just surmising what things you might get up to, the ways you might like to misbehave, already excite you sexually."

"Mr Norton, you mind works in a very weird and kinky way – you are quite a perverted man – disturbed even!"

He actually laughed, nay, guffawed, briefly but loudly. "I'm old too. Though you still enjoy teasing and displaying your body for my titillation. You should ask yourself," he added slowly and with a mock menace usually only heard in the dialogue of cheap scary old b-movies, "Why, here in your kitchen, with your husband having only just left, you feel the inclination, the desire, to arouse the cock of this old man you consider to be depraved and perverted?"

He waited for an answer but none came.

"Just you and I here with no one to bother us, we are in your home, we have the privacy to do whatever we like. Will you bring a man here this week? Let one escort you home, invite him in for coffee – then take him to your bed to fuck? He will leave in the darkness of the early morning and no one will ever know he was here.

Will you bring different men, would you like to try out more than one man, experience how different men feel and compare their techniques?"

I answered, saying I didn't know, I wasn't sure. He came up close behind me, not touching me, but my soap-covered hands began to shake in the water. My heart thumped when I felt just the slightest pressure of fingers describe circles my bottom cheeks before suddenly, though very gently, touch under my armpits then trace a line down each side of my body over my hips, stopping on my upper thighs.

"Please will you pass me the towel?" I asked meekly.

I felt a hand leave my leg then the towel appeared from my left side. I took it from him and began to dry my trembling hands.

"Will your wife not wonder where you are?" I said not quite avoiding the nervous stutter.

"No." The hands caressed my flanks, up and down from thigh to chest. "Have you wondered about two men, pictured two men, together, with you at the same time, four hands, two cocks?"

Questions and answers – just questions and answers.

"Yes." Why lie – he would only know, confuse me and catch me out. "Will she not come looking for you – your wife?"

"No. Do you hope to do more than flirt, to kiss, do you hope that this week you will get the chance to fuck – feel another cock?"

"Yes. I want to move away from the window."

"And if the chance came your way to have more than one man? Would you be tempted, let it happen?"

"Very much so!" I breathed. "Look! Look at the amount of stuff my husband has left in the laundry basket."

I moved away from Mr Norton and began to sort out the washing, checking the articles before I pitched them into the washing machine. The third article was a pair of denims – and I had to remove the leather belt first. Mr Norton watched as I dropped the jeans but carefully folded the belt in half. I ran the palm of my hand along the length then looked across at him.

"Are you sure your wife won't be missing you – won't come looking for you?"

He shook his head without changing the blank expression on his face. I walked toward the back door but as I passed the table I placed the leather belt down – close to Mr Norton. Turning the key in the lock to make sure no one could walk in I avoided facing my neighbour and stepped back to face the wall. Standing with feet apart, shoulder width and a good four feet from the counter edge I felt the shake in my hands spread throughout my body. I began to bite my nails.

"I'm scared of what I might do this week," I began, "I know how easily I will give in to temptation, let a man have his way with me. I want it to happen! I want to have sex with a different man – different men. I have strange feelings inside. The pictures that come into my head of what I imagine could happen are filthy and perverted. I don't know where they come from!"

I heard the sound of leather being dragged across wood. It told me that Norton had picked up the belt. There were slapping sounds, leather against flesh like he was bringing it down across his palm, warming up his arm, loosening up his muscles.

It was time for me to bend forward, to grip the kitchen counter, brace myself, and wait for the first of many stinging blows of the belt across my tender buttocks. How very perverted it seemed that I felt reassurance from knowing that Brian would not be here to spot the telltale marks and stripes of my whipping! Maybe that's why with every delicious slap I cried out as my body jerked forward from the searing pain yet my tearstained face carried a smile like I knew that the burning agony would convert to a warm sensuous pleasure all the more sooner.

It was an easy task that morning, easier than the previous time, for Mr Norton to slide his hand up and inside my clothes. He was giving his whipping arm a rest and as was his style he stood beside me side on, to deliver gentle smacks, across my thighs and up against my pubes. Today he concentrated more on stimulating my nipples too then alternated between tweaking them then slipping down my belly to delve inside my panties and seek out my clitoris with his expert fingers. Pleasure and pain rolled into one – how delightful it was what that sudden sharp smack came reigning down making my cunt jerk against the busy fingers of the man's hand.

I was ecstatic and cried and sobbed with joy when I felt the stiff hotness of Mr Norton's old cock press against my arse cheeks.

"Oh, please, put it inside me!" I demanded, hissing like a mad woman.

Mr Norton's reply was short and concise, "No" he answered.

I sobbed, I yelled, and I begged. That earned me a good thrashing, but knowing that the stiff cock was but a few millimetres away from plunging into my hole was exasperating and cruel. How degrading to have to express my gratitude when he offered the hard leather against my wet cunt asking if he should leave it in place as a substitute for a dick.

"You will have to go out and find your own willing dicks!" he said. "You will be all the more eager and hungry for cock!"

Once again I fucked a leather belt and a delightful orgasm erupted when I began to imagine that the belt and the fingers of the hand were two different dicks. And what an added pleasure when my arse was soaked with a thick liquid that I realised could only possibly be Mr Norton's sticky jism!  I later thought how much more nice it would have been if we had finished with him showing me his weapon and allowed me to clean it with my tongue.

Norton quietly disappeared through the back door leaving me mentally confused and flustered. I kept busy cleaning the house then needing to get out went off for a walk in the park. Now I have been known to turn a few heads but today I wasn't dressed particularly eye-catching so I couldn't understand why there seemed to be lots of men taking notice of me. Did I have a sign on my head that said 'husband away'? Eventually it dawned on me that it was not the men ogling and staring at me, it was I who was ogling them! I was attracting attention by giving lingering looks at any man who passed, subconsciously imagining what having sex with them would be like.

For a while I sat on a bench (which had I wanted to avoid attention would have proved a bad idea.) Several men ogled me from a distance, sitting on seats opposite, some clearly hoping I would perhaps flash some thigh or maybe several had a fantasy and thought I may smile and invite them over to join me. It was late Sunday afternoon now and the weekend strollers were all but gone. There was no harm in a little teasing as there were still enough people passing by to make me feel safe. Crossing and uncrossing my legs, letting my skirt ride up excited quite a few of the men who sat in that little square area where several paths converged. Even a woman caught my eye nodding with a smile letting her gaze dart to my lower half as though signalling that she knew what I was up to and I had her approval.

It was obvious to me now just how easy it was to attract a man; the right clothes and the inviting smile. There was I wondering if I would get 'opportunities' when all I had to do was go out! Though attracting the right calibre of man was another matter. I would however be seeking sex, not looking to start a relationship!

The most adventurous man in the park was called George. He came and sat next to me. Definitely he would be a contender and I happily chatted away to him considering the possibilities of having sex in the shrubbery, or be really filthy and accompany him past the flowerbeds to stand up against the wall in the men's urinals lift my skirt drop my pants and have a knee-trembling fuck! Maybe we would get caught – then the men who discovered us would insist on having a turn with me.

In the end I succumbed to going off with him to a small café where we drank tea and flirted. I think he enjoyed my blatantly obvious willingness to expose as much upper thigh as I could decently bare in a public place. We sat in a corner outside, with most of the other customers facing toward the street; I made it clear I was doing it for him. When it was time to go the disappointment on his face made me feel sorry for him. I could have taken him home but I wasn't that brave – yet.

By the time I arrived home my body was screaming out demanding some sort of sexual enjoyment. I wished I had arranged for George to come round later, when the neighbours closed their curtains and the light faded. I would have welcomed another visit from old Mr Norton. When Brenda rang and suggested we try out a bar she knew I was more than agreeable. Hardly able to eat I made a small meal just to keep the hunger pangs at bay; then selected items of appropriate clothing.

At eight thirty a taxi pulled up; Brenda was already in it waving like an excited teenager. Feeling just a little self-conscious and worrying if my skirt was a little too short or tight, or if the neckline of my clinging top was a bit too low I hobbled over the cobbled driveway in my high heels carefully of where I tread. A shadow across my path made me look up, to see the smirking face of Norton.

"So you're off for a night out then?"

"Nothing exciting, just a couple of drinks," I answered.

"Sorry, I'm not being nosey – I hope you have a good time."

Suddenly Norton looked the old man he was, the helpful neighbour who came in to do odd jobs. Why I had allowed this man to manipulate me and get right inside my head. There he was, stood before me armed with the knowledge that I harboured secret desires and had developed a craving to have sex with other men. It was hard to believe that I had bent over for this man, while he strapped my arse and spanked me. I had let him spill his sperm over me and like the filthiest of sluts I had fucked his fingers and come to orgasm on the very belt that tanned my backside. I had even begged for this old man to fuck me, asked for his cock to be put inside me. The joke was that he had refused – and I had felt insulted and aggrieved.




Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 02



"You look very...fetching," he said.

Brenda was showing her impatience so I hurried off.



Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 03



We had been in the night club a while before I noticed that Brenda had gone missing. I had been quite happy enjoying a dance or two and chatting away to two younger men, who bought me drinks and who shocked me a little by the way they behaved, not rowdily but presuming it okay to run their hands over my body and sneak the odd grope or kiss. I told myself that now I was of a different generation and in a place such as this it was nowadays deemed normal behaviour. 

There had been more of us in the group but Brenda and some of the others had wandered off. The guy touching my arse as I spoke to his mate brought pictures of Norton to the forefront of my mind, arousing me, thinking that the old man might just be waiting for me to arrive home. I had to move and collect my thoughts so excused myself and went off in search of my friend.

Winding my way through the crowd and into a quite area I came across couples, touching, sliding hands under each others clothing, as they kissed and petted. I felt turned on by what I saw but at the same time disappointed as though I was missing out, getting old. Maybe I should have stayed with those two guys. Reaching a narrow corridor I noticed a door leading to the outside and decided to look thinking that even if Brenda wasn't there I would be at least able to catch a breath of fresh air.

A couple rushed back in from outside looking very bedraggled, yet wickedly contented. Several people stood just outside the doorway dragging on cigarettes. With drink in hand I stepped away from them not wanting to breathe in the second hand smoke. Another couple stood by an archway leading into a small courtyard; I stood at a discrete distance away from their writhing bodies, and then noticed that the girl's hand was thrust inside the pants of her beau! Feeling self-conscious and not wanting to be accused of spying on them I walked through the archway and heard from the corner a familiar tone.

I didn't believe what was before my eyes until Brenda's face became clearly visible in the half-light. Well, I knew she could be wild and outrageous; and I believed her when she said she could guarantee a good time if I went out with her for a drink – but this was something else! Legs akimbo, her arse perched on a low decorative wall, she was hanging on to the man standing in front of her who was thrusting his groin into her like there was no tomorrow – Brenda was being well fucked in a dark corner of the club's yard.

I could only stare, frozen to the spot; to witness someone you know having sex was a weird and unusual experience. The look on her face told me that the filthy dirty pleasure she was obviously enjoying from this illicit sex, was clearly something she had known before. I stood quietly, rooted to the spot, compelled to watch, noticing how the man's backside banged to and fro, his pelvis working hard trying to incite an orgasm from my friend and a release of his sperm.

For a second I failed to react when an arm slipped around my waist; my mind told me it was the two guys who had come out to find me. With my eyes still glued on my fornicating friend I didn't flinch when once again a hand began to feel my bum over my skirt while the hand belonging to the arm around my waist crept up to cup my breast. I felt comfortable enough (and aroused enough) to allow my head to fall to the side to accept the kiss I was being coaxed into having by the tongue tickling under my earlobe. 

My right hand held my drink and being careful not to drop the glass or spill it's contents I concentrated on that task rather than on the man who wanted my lips. I was very compliant closing my eyes so as to give my imagination a little leeway thinking of what Brenda was doing and how glad I felt about being there to enjoy the spectacle. It seemed okay, no need to fuss, when the hand on my bum went under my skirt to rub the inside of my thigh and fingers pressed against my lacy knickers.

This was what I had fantasised about for a long time - the feel of another man, allowing different hands to touch and explore those private places, (I felt a delightful and exciting sense of adventurous immorality reminding myself that the wandering hands belonged to not one but two men!)

It all felt very nice though something in the back of my mind was niggling me. By the time I had opened my eyes, the hand of the man who was kissing me had already progressed from squeezing my breast to deftly popping open the two buttons of my top. There were only three but I had dared leave one undone to show off a generous amount of cleavage. At the very same time his fingers slipped inside my bra and touched my bare nipple it registered that these men were complete strangers and not the two young guys I had left in the club!

The man whose lips covered mine was quickly aware of my shock and broke off from the kiss – but his fingers remained inside my bra, playing with my very erect nipples. He watched me, staring, smiling, while I just gazed back with open mouth feeling like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights.

The man whispered in my ear, "Did you think it was someone else?"

I automatically answered in the affirmative adding nothing, doing nothing, just the one word spoken softly, "Yes!"

"We'd better move back a bit before whoever you thought it was comes along!" he grinned as the other man behind gently pulled me into the shadows of the yard.

Stunned and bewildered I let the glass be taken from me and watched as it was placed on the low wall. Now I was guided into an even darker area to stand against the building, a man either side of me.

"We could see you getting very turned on - watching the couple over there having sex," said the smiling guy.

I was quite unable to reply but looking across the yard I could see that Brenda and her beau were still going at it like hammer and tongue; and tongue was the thing I felt next as one man lowered his head and pulling my top down as far as it could go tried to suck my nipple through my bra.

"Sexy isn't it – watching people fuck!" It was more a statement than a question.

I made some sort of noise but kept my eyes glued on Brenda, astounded, and again shocked into silence when I felt fingers pull away the gusset of my panties which then gently parted my pubes exploring inside my pussy and sought out my special spot.

The little kisses came fast and frequent, from either side as each man enjoyed my body. My top was hauled up to release my tits letting the cool night air waft over me. Mouths went from nipples back up to my neck until one man broke the sequence and planted his lips over mine. Maybe he wanted to make sure I didn't scream out when my hand was guided to my side and my fingers were made to wrap around a very hard hot shaft!

The full realisation of what I was doing was making itself felt. This was dirty and I was acting like a slut, stood in a corner of the yard of a seedy club, tits exposed and with two men mauling me and not least, I was happily masturbating one of them. I was now extremely awestruck, every nerve tingling, conscious of every movement, of every touch and sensation. In a moment of sanity I drew away my face alarmed that someone might be watching, then I laughed inwardly wondering why I was bothering when Brenda was right there across the yard being fucked out of her mind. 

Suddenly a man appeared, staring, but rather than feel scared or shamed I actually felt my sexual arousal increase enjoying for real the fantasy old Norton's treatment had created of being with more than one man. I smiled wickedly and lewdly while audible signs of my depraved joy and excitement could be easily heard as I watched the guy undo his pants and begin to masturbate while he watched, his other hand holding a glass of beer from which he calmly sipped; I was the live show, the live porn queen.

It was difficult to remember the sequence of events from that point. One memory sees me stood there against the wall hands out to the side each gripping a cock while I watched the man in front enjoying the sight of my bared tits and the sight of fingers inside my pussy. I was stood with legs spread wide, my skirt hitched up to my waist, hips forward. 

My imagination, when considering possible situations and expectations of committing adultery and indulging in sluttish behaviour was, at the very worst being groped in the back seat of a car or inviting another man in for coffee then succumbing to a breathless short-lived shag on the couch or maybe a gentle but illicit 'lovemaking' session in the bedroom. Instead I had surrendered my body to strangers, to men whose names I did not even know. Though lost in that wicked lust I was very aware and conscious of what I was doing when I felt the sensation of another man's penis penetrate my pussy. 

Constantly I repeated to myself the same astounding statement, shouting it out in my head, "I am being fucked!" Somehow, though the size and movement of the cock inside appeared to change there always seemed to be one available for each hand. My face covered with wet lips and tongues penetrating my mouth prevented me from knowing whom they belonged to or how many they numbered. Panties were long gone allowing my naked flesh to be examined thoroughly. As yet another hand caressed my arse cheeks I heard a comment that gave away a secret.

"Look what she's into! See the marks?" 

Fingers traced over the tracks of my whippings and spankings, the red welts I knew were visible. I opened my eyes when the men drew away to view the telltale evidence and looked into the eyes of these much younger men, boys much the junior to this slut housewife who had offered herself up for a gangbang, lads who had probably never imagined respectable married women actually indulged in such habits – not in real life. But then, until a few days ago – neither had I!

I was very self-conscious now and felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed, a sight to be stared at and ogled at in a vulgar way. The eyes and gaping jaws of the remaining boys unsettled me as we stared at each other though I cannot account as to why I let the last man finish what he was doing and shoot his jism on my belly. They were soon gone and I looked across the yard for Brenda; she was no longer there.

"Come on, we promised to take you home," said a voice.

A hand wrapped around my upper arm and I looked up to see that the people who were taking responsibility for me were two older men, men my age in fact. Bundled into the ladies room they suggested I clean up while they waited. It was a while before rationality returned and I got my head back. Maybe, I thought, they would have tired of waiting by now and would be gone. Discretely I could walk out of the club and hail a cab, never again having to face any male I had encountered this night; having had their fill, they too would be long gone.

The plan worked fine until I reached the foyer when the men appeared either side of me. I was taken aback when I heard them refer to me by name, telling me Brenda had asked a favour – look after Daisy. The thought that these men had probably watched all that had gone on was mortifying and extremely embarrassing. I went along with their 'guidance' when any sensible woman would have dismissed them or at least queried their validity. Every time I did glance at them I felt very aware of how they would see me, of what I was – a well-fucked unfaithful slut housewife! Then they must also know of my secret; had they seen my bare arse, the red swollen belt marks on my bum cheeks? Did Brenda know - had she seen them; would she assume it was the work of my husband, our kinky fetish? What did these men think? Who were these men anyway?

They knew where I lived; it was they who gave the driver directions. I didn't speak, and neither did they other than utter what was necessary. Squeezed between them in the back seat I found it impossible to avoid letting our thighs touch and wasn't able to find the elbowroom to grip hold of the hem of my skirt to maintain modesty. The driver had a good view as he turned around at almost every junction and traffic light, having a need to ask an inordinately long list of questions. Perhaps I should have spoken up when the two men alighted from the cab and began to escort me to the door.

There was a light on at old Norton's house. I feared that he would hear the engine of the cab and look out of his window to see me.

"I don't want anyone seeing you!" I nervously told them, speaking very quietly.

"That's understandable!" said one, and then to my horror the cab revved up and pulled away.

The man noted the expression on my face. "It's okay," he smiled, "I have paid him!"

"That's not what I meant!" I spluttered. I tried to bluff, "Look, my husband will wake up and set the dog on you!"

The men smiled like one does when they tolerate tiresome fibbing children.

"We are friends of Brenda," I was reminded. "Your husband is away – and you don't have a dog!"

There was a movement behind the frosted glass of Norton's side door. I felt a need for self-preservation; I certainly didn't want Norton to gloat and gain a hold over me, possibly using the knowledge to blackmail me. Sure I had given in to the old man and allowed him to witness and arouse a darker and previously unknown side of my personality – and let him help and show me how best to enjoy it! But it was between we two only and I retained the option of denial if he should decide to expose my misbehaviour. There was no third party to confirm his story and anyway, would my husband believe this strange doddering old man who did the odd jobs? The young guys at the club probably picked up sluts every weekend – to them I would just another loose woman. They may even have already pushed me to the back of their minds, history.

The other man spoke.

"We promised Brenda that we would see you safely inside the house." He pointed toward the light from next door, "Will you feel better if we ask your neighbours to pop across, it looks like they are still up?"

"No!" I cried making more noise than ever.

"We understand," said the tallest man, "I expect you might be scared. Maybe if he tells your husband you'll get a beating; we've seen the marks on your bottom. Is it your husband who beats you?"

"No!" I grunted, gritting my teeth at their insinuations. Right away I decided it would have been better if I had left them with that impression.

They looked at me calmly but in a penetrating way.

"You do it for pleasure then, a game?"

I had already said 'No' it was not wife beating, how could I answer without admitting the truth? I didn't have time to reply because Norton's silhouette behind his door told me he was about to take it off the latch. My lack of response to the question would be taken as a yes - I like to be whipped. It was certainly then a very bad mistake for me to utter the next words.

"Come on in quickly, but you can't stay long!"

Inside I figured out what I should have said, and tried to repair the damage.

"Look, I only invited you in because the guy next door was about to come out and I don't want to give him an excuse to cause trouble. I just wanted to get you out of sight, okay? Brenda has never mentioned you to me but thanks for seeing me home and I have to say that what you saw tonight was way out of character for me. I think someone must have spiked my drink. I'm a respectable housewife."

"But the marks on your arse tell a different story! No one spiked your drinks then bent you over to deliver those whacks did they? You would have hardly been comfortable coming out clubbing tonight – let alone allowing your knickers to come off – while some young guys fucked you!"

The tall one stepped forward and held my wrists, making my arms go behind my back. I felt my heart thump and my body begin to shake.

"Please!" I begged, "Don't do that, let me go!"

The guy stood in front of me, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He pressed my folded wrists against my backside pushing my groin into his. This was not going to end here; there would be no cosy chat over a coffee. The smaller one plunged an arm between the two of us and grabbed hold of a breast.

"Your panties never reappeared Daisy. If we find them we'll be sure to send them on – to your husband. Perhaps with a letter explaining how the mishap came about."

Oh stupid me! There I was worrying about Mr Norton, and how clever I was being. The young guys at the club were sorted out and I thought I had every base covered. How had I been so idiotic not to realise the men who brought me home would present a threat. They had watched me being fucked, seen the marks the leather belt had left. Why put me in this position if they were friends of the outrageous Brenda?

"You bastards! Do you blackmail my friend too? Do you hold her to ransom?"

The man laughed quietly then surprisingly he let me loose. "How about pouring us a drink?"

Thoughts were rushing through my head and I was already resigned to the fact that I would have to give them what they wanted. I tried to remain calm and opened the drinks cabinet telling them with a very shaky voice what was on offer. One sat while the other remained standing. I too remained on my feet occasionally pacing the room slowly, trying to control my nerves. They attempted casual conversation, all the time their eyes glued on me watching every move I made.

"What do I call you?" I asked trying to give the appearance that if I could consider such triviality and friendly informality then I must be calm and in full control.

"You don't need to know that," smirked the small one. "Just call us Bill and Ben – he's Bill," he joked, pointing to the tall seated one.

This strained patter carried on for a long fifteen minutes. I drained my glass and went to the cabinet for a refill. First I felt a tickle on the back of my thigh then a draught as my skirt was pushed slowly up over my bare arse. I was in reach of the small man, Ben, who now sat on the arm of a chair while he stroked my backside.

"You won't tell us who made those marks – tell us what they were made with."

Again I felt mortified and a sense of outrageous humiliation filled me at being made to openly explain and describe how those welts came to be there. I had to offer an answer.

"A leather belt," I answered, in a shameful tone. I was very, very conscious of the nakedness of my posterior as the hand travelled over from cheek to cheek.

"And you admit it wasn't inflicted, shall we say, by an angry man; rather a man who experiences a form of pleasure in chastising ladies bottoms?" 

He had almost a whimsical mocking lilt to his voice. I nodded confirming his supposition.

"This man wasn't your husband?"

"My God!" I cried out, "No it wasn't – but you know that! I have never been involved with anything like that before. It was a one time only thing. I can't explain why I let it happen."

"Or why it should excite you in such a perverse way?"

"It 'did' - past tense," I admitted, "I told you it was a one off and I have no wish for it to happen again."

"But you found that pain turned to pleasure?"

I stood firm, eyes fixed on the glass in front of me facing toward the piece of furniture. I was fighting to control my voice, suppressing the tears welling up in my eyes and subduing the sobs erupting from my jittery stomach. The hand caressing my bottom drifted into the crease right at the very top of my thigh and tickled area between my pubes and anus before fingers drew a line along my entire arse crack. Every few trips the fingers would feel over the red, slightly raised lines.

"You experienced pleasure?" The man repeated his question. "You found that pain turned to pleasure – sexual pleasure; you became aroused?"

"Yes! But not when he spanked me too hard!"

The fingers explored the dark crevices, pushing a little deeper, discovering, there a moistness of the skin. A rough thumb pushed hard against my anal hole made me howl softly, forcing me forward slightly, but the relaxation that followed allowed better access to my orifice.




Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 03



"So – we should be careful – and not get carried away - not spank you too hard?"

The words stunned and shocked me. I had been wrong to think that humiliating me would be satisfaction enough for them. Okay, I expected that they would press me into shagging or maybe bring them off with my mouth. I had not foreseen this! Now I sobbed loudly and freely. Having already lost my knickers I was ready and primed.

A cord was tied around my left wrist and pulled away from the cabinet I was turned to face the men. Then the arm was stretched out toward the door where it was secured to the handle. Quarter turned again I was amazed to see that Bill had brought from the kitchen laundry basket a pair of pantyhose which was used to fasten my right hand to the spindles of a heavy antique chair. With arms pulled out from my side at an angle of sixty degrees I was tethered lengthways across the room giving the men ample space to do whatever they liked from both front and rear. I could not hide my shame and unlike my sessions with Norton I was not able to avoid face-to-face contact.

I shook and shivered when the button holding up my skirt was undone; now I would be naked from the waist down. Obeying the instruction I stepped out of the garment when it fell to the floor. Hands came from behind and fingers gently played with my nipples through my top. It ceased without warning and a stinging slap landed across by buttocks making me scream with surprise. Bill appeared at my front wearing his nasty grin to reach out and tickle my pussy lips. His finger found my clit – and he knew from my face he had touched a delicate area.

It was soft and gentle but then every few seconds the hand at my rear delivered three, four, sometimes as many as five slaps to my arse cheeks causing me to thrust forward taking the fingers inside my cunt. Then the slaps would stop and it was gentle again, tickling my clitoris. In a quieter moment Bill stopped playing with my cunt to tug up my top and unfasten my bra letting my tits swing free.

He kissed and sucked my nipples, kneading my breasts and rubbing my clit. Behind, Ben rested from spanking me and toyed with my anus; it was all gentle and soft.

"Shall we give you a taste of the leather Daisy?" whispered Bill between licking the tears from my face and plunging his tongue into my mouth.

My response was to sob loudly. That turned into a scream when my arse burned and smarted as a strap came whistling through the air. Bill kept giving me little kisses playing with my pussy as the strap came down across my arse, stinging, burning.

"Please, not so hard!" I begged.

They eased – sometimes. They came regularly – then as I counted the seconds and braced myself for the next it never came – until I relaxed when it would take me by surprise. Bill stepped back and out of sight leaving Ben to aggravate me by continually flicking the belt between my thighs hitting the very tender skin, forcing me to wriggle my bottom around. Every now and again the leather would whip across my burning throbbing buttocks before returning to my thighs, making me dance.

Bill was there again when I opened my tearstained eyes. The thin cord he held flicked across my nipples then on its return journey snapped up smartly against my pubes, opening up my cunt. Now I was really dancing.

"Please – no more on my bottom – it's sore!" I pleaded.

That made it sound like it was fine to carry on teasing my cunt and breasts! That's exactly the view they adopted, but it was pointless to expect them to cease altogether. Give them what they want!

Ben stood a few feet away from my left side, watching his friend snap the cord across my nipples; he began to strip off. Quite oblivious to where my eyes were drifting I was unaware that I was staring at the thick stiff pole that bounced up and down from between the white shirttails of the semi naked man. Teasingly the cord flicked over my nipples for one last time before it made contact with my swollen pubes.

"Open your legs!" Bill commanded.

I stood wide and winced as the cord this time hit the soft flesh of my inner cunt lips. It didn't hurt! It felt like, more of a tickle, a tease, stimulating! It did make me wriggle, rotate my hips, like I needed to ease an itch, touch it. Hands tied, I had to rely on the cord hoping it would satisfy the sensation, the feeling one gets when a tiny spider crawls over ones arm. Tickle, itch, tease, call it what you will – this sensation excited every nerve – it penetrated that little envelope of skin protecting my little button, my clitoris.

"Do you like that?" asked Bill. Ben told him that I did, of course I did. He slowly masturbated, watching.

"Please – it's...tormenting!" I admitted.

The flicks became gentler, softer – but that increased the agony, the urge to want to rub the area being aggravated! The opposite was what was needed – the opposite of soft. Hard rubbing calms an itch; tickles make it worse. My hips needed to wriggle all the more. The flicks had become less frequent but that was a bad thing because now there was nothing, no temporary respite as the cord slapped against my tender flesh, letting the hotness of the sting overcome the itchy tickle.

"Please!" I pleaded again, "It's unbearable!"

"What will ease it – tell me what to do?" said my tormenter.

He flicked the cord again, just a little more sharply.

"Again!" I cried, "More, harder!"

Nothing happened. I thrust my groin forward.

"More, again!"

A flick - a delay then another flick caught my in just the right spot.

"Yes – harder, faster!" I begged. My body was arched forward; my tethered arms were at full stretch as I pushed my open cunt toward the men.

The cord came whipping down on my tender parts rapidly and smartly, stinging turned to hotness, which turned into a strong and compelling craving to experience some sort of complete satisfaction.

My hips wriggled and writhed as I begged for more, grinning manically thanking them for easing my torment.

"Do you want it filling?" Bill shouted.

"Yeah!" I hissed, staring wide-eyed at Ben's hard dick.

Ben obliged, standing between my legs weapon in hand, positioning the head against my red, wet and invitingly open pussy. 

"Put it in – fuck me!" I yelled.

He did, and I thanked him, many times, begging for more, hoping Bill would follow him.

It did not happen like that. Each sensation in turn had gained prominence, numbing the others, leaving my lower body burning, craving, and needing contact of some sort. Every nerve ending was frayed and delicate though in spite of that, pain and pleasure had blended together creating a sexual feeling so strong it felt as though my appetite was beyond quenching. It was due to that state of mind that when I felt Bill work grease smeared fingers into my anus that instead of fear I felt curiosity wondering how might such a dirty act increase the intensity of the depraved pleasure.

I didn't panic even when the fingers were replaced by his stiffness and he began to push his cock inside my bum gaining a fraction of an inch each time I thrust back and forth enjoying Ben's marvellous and satisfying thick penis. One final push of Bill's cock made me scream out then, in a moment of sanity realise I was being doubly penetrated, hands tied, stood and spread-eagled – cock up each hole.

I moaned and cried out ecstatically when a few minutes later I felt hot sperm shoot up inside my arse and my obvious joy caused Ben to loose control too making him fill my hungry cunt. I had experienced two orgasms by then – so all was equal and fair.

A moment or two was spent resting and winding down, the time occupied by the men kissing and biting my nipples and generally touching up my body. I remained almost semi comatose, hardly opening my eyes.

"We'll set you free when we are ready to go," Bill said.

They were gone from the room, presumably to clean up, leaving me to gradually come back down to earth, drawing deep breaths as my brain took in the astonishing chain of events. Suddenly it struck me – the men had been gone too long.

"Hello!" I shouted, "Is there anyone there? Where are you?"

No answer was forthcoming and with alarm and panic setting in I began to struggle, looking for ways to free myself from the restraints. A shadow fell across the floor making me lift my head, convinced it must be the men Bill and Ben.

"Your friends left the door ajar, luckily I was keeping an eye on things."

Mr Norton from next door stood upright in the centre of the room, not smiling, but neither did he seem concerned or surprised. I felt foolish at first then a growing annoyance that the man was not stepping forward to help me. I noticed the movement through the gap in the kitchen door as I opened my mouth to protest; the realisation that someone else was there silenced me. The sound of a female clearing her throat caused me to cry out.

"Brenda, is that you?"

The female stepped into the room. No, it was not Brenda but a woman I only ever seen from a distance, sometimes exchanging a nod or a friendly wave. She looked much younger close up – much younger than the man she stood next to though both wore old fashioned dowdy dressing gowns.

"Have you met my wife?" Norton asked. "I don't think you've been introduced properly."

Mrs Norton did not speak; on her face she wore a faint smile as she ran her eyes over the scene noting my predicament. Mrs Norton's fingers were undoing the knot of the sash that held her dressing gown in place.



Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 04



Norton's wife had attractive but hard features although they were of the sort many men find sexually arousing. She didn't speak at first but stared at me with a smirk that said 'I'm going to dominate you'. Well there was nothing I could do to prevent that! Stood, stained and almost naked, my wrists shackled, arms outstretched I was helpless. For a split second I toyed with the idea of screaming out -- maybe the neighbours would hear me. Sure they would -- they were standing in the room!

So what was there left for me to do other than watch the actions of Mrs Norton as she undid her dressing gown, waiting with glee, knowing for certain that when I saw what she wore underneath I would scream and shriek, and beg that they desist from whatever dirty deeds they had in mind. 

The garment worn about her chest (if it deserved such a description), was more of a leather support sling than bra, holding up her quite amazing paps, the nipples erect and prominent; scaffolding for her breasts. Around her midriff was a contraption I had once seen before -- well, in a photograph anyway. I remembered the very day.

"You ought to get one of those!" my husband had said.

The harness was designed so it could take a variety of dildo's, big rubber cocks; swap them around, as was your want.

Brian had left me shocked when he leaned over to whisper to me. "Then you will be able to fuck me instead of me fucking you!"

I was so astounded that I couldn't wait to tell my friend Brenda, knowing that we both would have a good giggle and maybe even collapse in fits of bawdy laughter; though she left me even more gobsmacked!

"He's right, you should get one. Some of those dildo's are double ended you know." Brenda face was deadly serious. She ended the sentence speaking slowly emphasising her words to make sure I really heard. "You could use it on me too -- we could fuck each other."

The images stayed with me for a long time - not unpleasant memories though.

Now here was the wife of my neighbour, casting off her dressing gown -- did she intend fucking me? Who else was there? She was already walking toward me wearing that silly smirk, pointing her nipples at me. I laughed cynically to hide my fear. Mrs N grabbed the hair at the back of my head and scowled, before forcing my face forward so my lips touched hers. She was kissing me now; her hand was feeling between my legs, a finger examined my wet cunt. I could feel her tits rub against mine.

Mrs N is able to go from dominant to submissive at the flick of switch. I know that because she has dropped to her knees and is doing something very dirty -- she is licking up the mixture of juices that seep out of my well-fucked pussy. Her husband likes to see this -- now I have the chance to get a good look at his big penis as he stands watching, wanking. I wonder if Mrs N likes to do this or is she forced to act like this, suffer at his hands - suffer the whip?

My goodness, I can't help but move my hips, wriggle my groin. My word -- she's good! How does that tongue manage to get there?

"You have had an interesting evening," observes Norton dryly.

I feel brave and confident. "And it seems it's far from over!" I say spreading my thighs to allow better entry of Mrs Norton's expert tongue.

"You are a very dirty and depraved woman, not at all the respectable housewife you make out to be."

I wasn't really in the mood to listen to the old man's verbal shit.

"That's why you like me you dirty old twisted pervert!" I said harshly, "That's how you like me!"

For my show of disrespect I received several stinging lashes across my arse cheeks; delivered via a tawse the old man had secreted beneath his gown. True, I had also let rip another cynical cackle of a laugh when the man cast off his gown completely and paced toward me with his dick bobbing up and down -- how comical he looked!

If I had ever wondered just what those stale man- juices tasted like then my curiosity was about to be satisfied. Mrs N had stood up and ignoring how I sobbed over my sore stinging arse forced me again to kiss her lips, passing some of the jism she had sucked up from her mouth to mine.

"Suck my nipples!" she then ordered.

I obeyed -- and she played with mine.

What, meanwhile, was that silly little old man doing for goodness sake -- I could hear him pacing around?

Finally becoming bored (though she appreciated the trouble I took to do the job properly, biting and alternately licking and sucking) Mrs Norton stepped away. Now I could see what was going to come next as the old man handed over a large rubber curved sex toy to his wife. With all the time in the world (well I still wasn't going anywhere) she eased one end of the penis fashioned implement inside her cunt and adopted a dominant stance in front of me wearing that evil grin. Mrs N had come out of her submissive 'lick that dirty cunt' mode.

"I'm going to fuck you!" she said.

I was not going to break down and remained passive as she positioned her body entering me, thrusting her groin forward and cruelly squeezed and raking my nipples as she looked in the eye. Old Norton was not amused by my inactivity and encouraged my hips to move by swinging the three-pronged tawse sharply and regularly across my backside. I cried out and begged for him to show mercy -- which pleased, and excited, his good wife. 

The latex penis that invaded my body amply filled my sex hole. Though the lash intermittently snapped across the tender burning skin of my buttocks I maintained a defiant stare that looked deep into Mrs Norton's very soul. I felt the softness of the woman's breasts press against my own, stimulating my nipples. Each time she thrust forward I detected the faint trace of a satisfied smile. Our eyes were locked together but without strain, our mouths were moving sensuously between expressing our delight at the experience of delectable sexual joy and a tongue wiping desire for our lips to make contact. It was an understatement to say that we were both turned on, both amazingly aroused.

Mr Norton, for reasons known only to he, suddenly decided his wife's backside too needed to be chastised and, whilst wanking his cock with one hand alternated the direction of the short whip, east to west, first striking my arse then the well-rounded bottom of his good lady. Our tongues met, drawing together our salivating mouths to join together in the most sexually exhilarating of kisses. Whilst both Mrs Norton and I seemed to be reduced to groaning banshees, enjoying in equal amount the pleasure and the pain, the woman nevertheless gained a measure of extra ecstatic bliss from cruelly squeezing and pinching my tender nipples, causing me to suddenly arch my back, and thereby thrust forward against the rubber dick. That was a motion that in turn increased my own depraved pleasure as it excited my clitoris even more.

When I was suddenly released from my restraints I felt too weak to worry about what might come next and disappointed that the latex cock was no longer filling my hole I sighed before the couple supported my body as I sank to my knees by the couch. Mrs N quickly sat back in the soft upholstery spreading her legs wide, lifting her feet and forcing my face into her wide-open red juicy cunt, commanding me to lick and suck. A sharp command and a slap made me higher my backside shifting to a kneeling position, expecting the feel of the whip.

One, two, three, the whacks came hard across my smarting arse making my butt contract and tighten then relax again but when I counted four it was not the stinging lash that made me recoil but the sensation of penis unexpectedly penetrating anus. True, I was still lubricated from the last invasion though that didn't prevent me from yelling out loud -- only for my outburst to be smothered by the woman who pressed my face hard against her quim.

It came as a shock for me -- Mr Norton from next door was finally fucking me -- I had wondered how that might feel -- but I had never expected it to be up my arse with his wife present holding me firmly in place, my face pressed against her cunt, enjoying the experience as much as he!

Two minutes later the woman dribbled into my mouth as her husband filled my back passage with his sperm; and two minutes after that, they were gone, leaving me sprawled out on the floor. I had, throughout that evening of terrible sexual assault and cruel torture experienced several unbelievably ecstatic orgasms.

The following morning, worn out and mentally paralysed I spent an hour huddled over hot cups of coffee constantly attempting to banish the many images that flashed through my mind's eye. It was gone eleven before I was able to lift the phone and speak to Brenda, but what could I tell her? Certainly I didn't want to mention how I let two strange men actually come into my house or relate what liberties they managed to perform on me. Neither did I want to confess that I had given my arsehole up to the strange old man from next door -- the one we often ridiculed and pitied for his oddness. How would it sound if I said, "Old Norton whipped and fucked me last night"? "Oh and also his wife came round and we both enjoyed a shag with a double ended dildo -- and he whipped her too!"

Well, I phoned Brenda though it wasn't long before I broke down and blubbered and blabbed.

"What the f...." Brenda was never one for showing sympathy, "Look -- I know you saw me in the club yard -- and I certainly saw you. It happened, you have enjoyed a fuck with another man -- or should I say men -- you wanted to be adventurous, and you have been; you'll just have to learn to live with it. You're a dirty sex mad little bitch girl -- just like me!"

Her humour didn't ease me. "Now you look," I snapped, "It's more than that! I know you have your secrets and I don't question you about your habits. Listen to what I have to say and don't criticise or press for more detail -- I don't do that to you. Something else has happened -- I have let something else happen and it's very difficult for me to admit what has taken place. I allowed myself to be put in a position whereby I was forced to submit to spanking and, even worse, a thrashing."

"What sort of thrashing?" Brenda yelled down the phone, her voice expressed the level of amazement she was feeling.

"Not rape!" I shouted, before she called the police, " Not overly violent, if you know what I mean." I paused, reluctant to explain or admit my feeble efforts to try and prevent what had been done with me. 

"It was more of, let's say, a sex thing, you know? I let someone whip me and tether me while we had sex." Brenda was now confused and bemused, "And the problem is...?"

"I let things go too far. It was more than playful.... so the evidence is there, across my arse, in stripes and welts. How the fuck does a wife hide that from her husband?"

"So they won't be gone before he comes home?" Brenda said, reiterating the obvious. "You must have had quite an amazing experience."

I felt like she was mocking me.

Brenda cleared her throat, "Surely it will be simple enough to avoid letting him see you undressed for a few days; they will have faded by the time he comes home. I have to say though, it sounds like, well - if Brian wasn't due home on Saturday then you wouldn't be upset."

"Of course I fucking wouldn't!" I screamed.

"Not sure whether you're seeing my point girl!" Brenda said, "I mean, it seems like you have no regrets about actually doing it -- it's just a problem having your husband return because you can't hide the evidence. I'd venture to say that if Brian were away for a month, then you would, well, indulge in and enjoy the experience again!"

"Don't be silly," I retorted.

"Okay, have it your way. Good thing that old guy next door doesn't know -- then you would have a problem!"

I didn't answer -- I went quiet -- and that was a mistake. A long moment passed.

"Oh my God!" Brenda cackled, "He knows doesn't he -- old Norton knows? How?"

Again, but this time through a feeling of self-loathing and sheer terror, I was rendered dumb. Brenda too remained quiet for a few seconds.

"Shit! It was him wasn't it; you let him do it?"

"No, you're being stupid -- I'm going to hang up the phone!"

I did slam down the phone but on reflection realised I might need Brenda and was only digging a deeper hole to bury myself in. When I phoned back, Brenda was slow to pick up.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Was it Norton -- did you bend over for him?"

Goodness I was mortified, having to admit to my actions, or rather, to some of them.

"Yes. It happened when he came round one day to do a job, one thing led to another, it all got out of hand."

There didn't seem to be a response from my friend.

"Brenda -- are you still there?"

"Did he fuck you too?" she cooed? "I know that you enjoyed it -- no, shit, let's talk in plain English -- it must have made you feel aroused! Did you let him pull down your panties?"

"Brenda!" I shouted, astonished by her attitude.

"I'm feeling aroused now!" she said, "Picturing that old man, spanking you! Did he force you to bend over; or did you quietly submit to him? My hand is inside my panties!"

"Brenda!" My voice had lost its ability to shout and now sounded hushed and subdued. I heard the familiar barely audible moans of a woman in the throes of stimulating her clitoris.

"Tell me!" Brenda sighed in a very sultry tone, "Tell me about it -- what happened, how did it happen, every detail!"

This was doing something to me now, turning me on. Maybe if I gave away just a few secrets.

"He told me I was bad -- for teasing him -- letting him look up my skirt. He came up from behind and made me bend forward, then began to spank my bottom."

Brenda moaned, "There is more though isn't there? It sounds deliciously depraved having that old man spank you, submitting to him. Just picturing it happening is making me feel incredibly turned on!"

I decided I would tell about the first time, parts of it anyway; maybe change a few minor details.

"Yes, Brenda, it felt exciting and scary too. He used his hand at first, then he lifted my skirt and kept letting his fingers stroke and touch between my thighs, along my bum crack too!"

Unable any longer to resist the temptation my own hand went down between my legs and I began to play with my clit. I'm not sure which was more stimulating, recalling the events for Brenda or listening to her moans, knowing what she was doing!

"What do mean he used his hands 'at first'?" she demanded to know.

I whispered down the phone, "He took off his belt -- and started to whip me!"

I heard Brenda cry out, calling for her God, then heard the rattle of the chair as she made it rock; her hand must have been very busy, going at it like a piston!

"Brenda!" I called out softly, in a way that conveyed that I too was masturbating. "He thrashed my arse -- yes it hurt at first, stung and burned -- then he eased off, pulled down my panties -- gave my bottom a rest and instead flicked the belt up between my legs, against my pussy lips. Brenda, I couldn't help but wriggle and writhe!"

"Did he get his cock out?"

"Yes, but he didn't put it in me; I admit he rubbed it over my skin. He fingered my cunt though! Brenda, he made me 'cum'!"

"Would you let him do it again?"

"Yeah!"

"I wish I had been there; to make you suck my tits while I watched him whip your arse!" I was about to orgasm, picturing Mrs Norton, and what we did together!

"Yeah Brenda -- I would have done that for you."

Brenda was erupting and very vocal.

"Would you have forced me to lick your pussy Brenda? Picture yourself, legs wide open, watching Norton, with his cock hanging out, whipping my arse, you holding my head between your thighs, feeling my tongue inside your cunt!"

The face of the figure conjured up by my mental imagery changed constantly from Mrs Norton to Brenda.

"Is his cock very big?" my friend asked frantically.

"Yes Brenda!"

"Would that turn you on, having me there with you both, watching, forcing you to lick my cunt?"

"Oh yes Brenda!"

"Will you ask him? Let me come round and join in?"

That proposal shattered the fantasy! What the hell was she hoping for? That I just pop round to the neighbours house and say, "Hey, do you mind if...?"

"Brenda, that's a step too far!" I reasoned.

"But you liked it -- you would like it if he spanked and thrashed your arse again. If he had chosen to you would have let him fuck you!"

"You're being unreasonable Brenda, we were fantasising." 

"Did you lie when you said you would like to have your head between my legs, lick my pussy?"

Oh my goodness, what had I got myself into?

"Brenda, I don't know -- you're confusing me! Maybe I would. Talking like this has turned me on too!"

The receiver, at her end, was heard to click then the line went dead. Brenda had hung up on me.

I hadn't expected a visit from Norton and his wife. An hour after speaking to Brenda the back door opened slowly and the couple asked if they could come in. Shamefaced and more than a bit embarrassed I beckoned the pair to sit at the kitchen table and offered coffee. My mind was by then reasonably rational though the telephone conversation had aroused me so much (mainly by having me wonder how it would feel to be with Brenda!) I had almost pushed the fear of my secret being discovered by Brian to the back of my mind. Remarkably I found myself wishing he were away for another week; not so my welts could heal and die down but to give me time to enjoy the experience one more time.

Mrs N looked at me in a certain way, a way she ought not to. I decided it would be best if I spoke plainly.

"You have given me a big problem. We must not do that again. How the hell do I explain the marks on my body to my husband?"

Mr Norton smirked and left his wife to respond. "Maybe, on reflection we should have been a little gentle. I'm glad that you can talk about it though - no need to ask if you enjoyed it. Bet you would like more if it wasn't for Brian!"

"That's not the point!" I snapped.

It felt really bizarre to be sat discussing, relatively calmly that amazing sexual episode. Mrs Norton must have seen something in my eyes; she felt confident enough to get up and moving behind me she gently massaged my shoulders. I was stunned by this sudden change of behaviour, more so when I saw old Norton, who had sat away from the table with thighs sprawled begin to grow a 'tent' in the front of his pants.

"You must feel really confused," said the woman as she kneaded my shoulders, "I think you're worrying far too much!"

She bent her head; first I felt her breath on my neck, then her cheek against mine. I shivered, then tingled inside, conscious that in spite of an urge to protest I felt excitement and a thrill.

"I can't let Brian find out!" I snivelled, turning my head slightly toward Norton's wife.

Almost before I finished the sentence her mouth covered mine, kissing me, thrusting her tongue between my lips; an easy task, as I didn't resist. As a hand dropped from my shoulder to cup a breast Mrs N licked along the width of my cheek and nibbled my ear before tickling that sensitive spot an inch below, on my neck. I sighed then moaned, saying she should not do this while at the same time watching fascinated as Norton pulled out his stiff member to masturbate as he in turn watched we two women.

With an amazing show of strength Mrs N managed to pivot both the chair and I around thirty degrees to face her husband. Kissing and licking while she worked, I felt her fiddle with the buttons of my top then our lips became glued together, tongues exchanged when she bared my tits and handled them for her husband's delight. It seemed she hoped that I would thrill in a similar way, by watching her husband slowly wank his dick as she broke away from kissing to hold my face forward with her free hand, still licking and nibbling my neck and earlobe. 




Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 04



The woman was not wrong, as I felt overcome with an incredible sexual kick by watching this strange man contort his face, and make his enormous penis swell and throb. His good lady wife was not done yet as I was well aware when her hand left my breast and she knelt lower, almost squatting to hitch up the hem of my skirt tantalisingly slow. Pressing against my inner thighs she forced me to spread my legs then quite unexpectedly she delved inside my panties, pulling the gusset to one side exhibiting my open vagina for her husband to admire.

Mrs Norton was very good, nay, an expert, at masturbating other women, knowing just how and where to touch -- apply just the right amount of pressure. She knew when to slow down, when to speed up. How I begged for her to finish me off; after almost half an hour of being held on the brink of orgasm I was delirious. Norton, given his age did amazingly well, maintaining his erection, enjoying the scene, he too knowing when to go fast or slow; I begged for his cock -- begged for his wife to complete her task -- surely her hand, her wrist, would be tired?

It was so selfish of the woman! She, in spite of tormenting and stimulating me, and turning me into a delirious wreck, decided to satisfy herself first. Suddenly standing fully upright she swung a leg over my chair straddling me and lifted up her dress. She wore no underwear and facing me was the neatly trimmed hair of her quim. I made to gasp, opening my mouth almost by reflex when a hand slipped down her belly to separate her cunt lips, flaunting her red wet juicy sex. Her other hand meantime grabbed the back of my head forcing me to kiss her cunt. Mrs N began to fuck my face, wriggled her groin and thrust her pelvis forward. The old man, my odd job man from next door, had finally tired of his wanking and was now fingering my pussy while, it seemed he simultaneously licked and kissed his wife's brown hole.

We all three groaned and moaned, lost in the pleasure experienced by indulging in our depraved and disgusting game until an almighty cry rent the air as the good wife reached climax -- for a shocking second or two loosing control of her bladder. All was not over yet for when she relaxed, giving me time to catch my breath she raked her fingertips over my tits and when my sensitive nipples sent spasms rushing through my body I erupted, closing my legs trapping Norton's hand over my clit.

I was still pulsating and in ecstasy when I finally released the man's hand giving him chance to stand and take his revenge by plunging his cock deep into my moaning mouth and proceed to use my facial orifice as a cunt, fucking me until his jism spilled into me and down my throat. Mrs Norton helped ease me up from the chair and held me close, our tits pressing together, giving me time to recover. We kissed and deep inside I knew I wanted more of this. I had also decided that this would remain private and on no account would I let Brenda in on this; I would not allow her for fear she would dominate and take over. This was to be my secret world -- although I had also decided that if Brenda remained willing, about we two...well...playing, then I would really like to give it a try.

"Thanks for the coffee; come round tonight about eight for drinks," were the last words I heard as old Mr Norton from next door and his good lady wife left the house as though nothing unusual had happened.

After taking a shower I busied myself doing mundane tasks whilst trying to understand all that had gone on and attempted to reconcile my behaviour and the weeks adventures with my otherwise normal everyday simple life. I had no qualms about visiting the Norton's, in spite of knowing full well what would transpire -- as long as they understood that the whip or similar implements that left a lasting mark were precluded from any sex acts. I had thoroughly examined my behind and felt happy now that there was a good chance that the angry welts would almost have disappeared by the time Brian returned home.

The thing that really bugged me though was Brenda. She had become so aroused on the phone expressing a previously unmentioned desire to be spanked -- strangely aroused by the old man. Yet the two men who brought me home were friends of hers who clearly were of the same persuasion -- all her crowd were sexually extrovert -- why hadn't she indulged herself with them, with her usual tendency to boast then surely she would have delighted in telling me? Surely she would have experimented by now? More importantly, why had she not questioned me further about what happened with the guys? After all, the men said it was she who requested them to look after me and see me home; neither had she shown the expected interest about my outrageous 'gang bang' in the club yard.

It would wait for now; I would question her tomorrow. Meanwhile my pussy had begun to tingle with anticipation of tonight's quiet drink across at my neighbour's house.



Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 05



How very weird it felt to be walking up to the Norton's front door, erotically excited over the anticipated and inevitable sexual encounter but at the same time apprehensive over the unfamiliar surroundings; being on foreign ground. Hell, I was only going next door!

Mrs Norton greeted me in the hallway; I had learnt her name now - Moira. What a suitable name (old fashioned even) for a normal middle-aged suburban housewife; except this lady wasn't normal. Normal housewives of her age don't answer the door to neighbours with their nipples erect and showing under loose chiffon shirts, their breasts held aloft by a black rubber peephole brassiere. The equally sheer floral skirt was inappropriate given that it betrayed the fact that underneath she wore traditional stockings and suspenders, which in turn were attached to a tightly laced up black corset.

I was late arriving due to answering an unexpected phone call from my husband who was still away on his trip.

"Of course I am behaving myself," I told him, "Are you?"

The phone rang again almost immediately and it was Brenda to whom I told a lie and said I was having an early night and wouldn't be joining her to go out for a drink.

I walked into Moira's living room noticing her husband wasn't present but quickly realised he must be down in the basement as noise filtered up through the floor. I was trembling a little as Moira openly admired my very short skirt and tits that sported a cleavage easily comparable to hers. Given that I knew how the evening might progress I wore no underwear.

"Whatever happens tonight," I told Moira, "I must not be left with any tell-tale marks. I want you to promise!"

The woman smiled, "Don't worry," she reassured me in a soft velvety voice.

I let her see that I too was openly ogling and admiring her, already feeling aroused knowing we were both lusting after each other.

"When you're ready we'll go downstairs -- the party has already begun," she said.

"Party?" I knew nothing of a party but felt a surge of excitement run through me knowing that I was about to step down into a dark cellar, not knowing just what depraved ideas and intentions this couple had in mind.

"Remember," I said, "No lasting marks!"

How deliciously decadent it felt being aware that I was essentially giving permission, fully willing in fact, that this couple could tie me, shackle me, spank me, paddle me, while they sexually assaulted me both front back and in mouth! An admission on my part that I would enjoy and receive sexual pleasure from almost any act performed or made to perform.

I carefully balanced my cocktail as I descended the wooden steps ahead of Mrs N. The diffused light was too dim making it a little precarious. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I scanned the room looking for old Norton, noticing how tastefully it was decorated and not the damp cold cellar I had expected. A nice light fitting hung from the wall but also some other curious fittings too. A large contraption, two in fact, sat in the corner and between us a selection of benches and chairs. How out of place seemed the double bed. The lights slowly increased in brightness as though some person had stood ready by the dimmer switch. I almost expected people to jump out and shout "Surprise!" like at an unexpected birthday bash.

Yes, I was surprised all right! The voice that spoke first belonged to the man who had first invaded my back passage the other night -- the man who had 'tanned' my arse and fucked me. Confused, my head turned to see his pal, already stripped naked below the waist, his cock at attention.

"You knew each other -- all the time you have been fooling me!" I hissed but the next voice, a female voice - prevented me from waiting for a reaction.

As one of the contraptions slid along a rail fastened to the ceiling, operated electronically by an equally undressed and cock-ready Norton I spied no other than my friend Brenda. On her knees, lash in one hand, she had paused from sucking the penis of a young man who was tethered to a large cross, an X-shaped wooden device designed so a person of whatever size could be manacled and strapped to the thing by a series of adjustable straps. It seemed that the DIY talents of old Mr Norton from next door extended to more than just fixing cupboards and the plumbing.

The young man gazed at me through watery eyes then squirmed as Brenda, sucking hard on his dick moved far enough away to give her arm space to lash his testicles and erect dick. I gazed back at the boy with astonished amazement, guilty and shamed now that I was there to witness the torture and assault; for the young man gazing back at me wasn't just any young man, he was known to me. Naked and manacled to the cross, having his cock alternately whipped then sucked, was Simon. Simon was the young nephew of my friend Brenda! Brenda was sucking, licking, then lashing, the penis of the son of her sister. I had to repeat this fact mentally many times, in many different ways, before my brain accepted and registered the enormity of the depravity. In front of others Brenda was whipping, and sucking the cock of her young nephew!

The others were undressed, dicks hard -- had they been fucking Brenda, allowing the boy to watch how his aunt enjoys cock?

The boy grimaced as I looked into his eyes. The lash had cracked across his erection. Lowering my gaze I observed the red bulbous knob-end almost glowing, a swollen beacon on the end of a thick long pole. In spite of my shock I found it impossible to avoid staring, thrilled at the sight of Simon's magnificent penis, almost too big, out of proportion to his slim boyish body, his blonde Adonis innocent looks. Dirty thoughts and memories came flooding back. I remembered the many times I had secretly lusted after this boy, using his image as a fantasy to aid masturbation. I recalled the times when I had been careless with my state of dress hoping for him to notice me in a sexual, not motherly way. Oh those days when I saw a large bulge form in his tight jeans, the outline of his young cock. Simon was twenty-five now, a man, but still a boy in terms of his behaviour (and to me!)

Here he was, naked in front of me. How jealous I felt that all this time, maybe for years, Brenda had been secretly able to sexually enjoy her sister's son. As the whip cracked across his cock the boy winced and yelped. One of the men had gone to his rear and was doing something to his arse. It was an un-natural sight for the boy to be able to maintain such a powerful erection through such pain. Simon, I realised with amazement, was not being tortured against his will, but was experiencing sexual pleasure at the hands of his tormentors. Simon was perversely receiving sexual gratification from his aunt's use of the whip -- and mouth!

Norton pressed a button on his control box and lowered the cross.

"Are you ready to expose the real you?" he said as he passed me to approach the boy.

I stood open mouthed with my eyeballs popping as I watched the elderly man begin to rub his own dick against the boys while the man behind showed me that he liked male arseholes just as much as he liked my female one. The design of the cross left the lower back exposed leaving the boy quite incapable of avoiding the anal invasion. Brenda sidled up to me though I continued to watch the proceedings going on over her shoulder as she spoke. We had an awkward conversation.

"Didn't expect to see me here!" she declared.

"You betrayed me," I retorted, "You conspired with the Norton's and set me up with these guys!"

I threw a glance to one side as I mentioned the name Norton to see Moira had not been idle. Her eyes had been on me all the time, revelling in seeing my bewilderment and shock noting my reaction, though hardly content just to stand there she had made the other guy sit on the bench while she straddled his lap impaling her body on his dick, fucking as she watched.

You lied to me too, "Brenda said defending her actions. "It didn't take much for you to drop the naïve housewife act did it?"

I slapped her across the face -- she slapped me back. I reached out to grab her unfastened top -- she reached out with both hands to hold my head steady and tight and in the struggle, as she pulled my face forward I missed my grip and made contact with her bouncing breasts. Brenda was planting a kiss on my lips -- my hands tended to want to stay holding her tits, feeling the hardness of her nipples. She broke away for a second to whisper a comment in my ear.

"Violence doesn't become you -- you much prefer to be the submissive one! Kiss me again!"

The orgy went on around us as our mutual fantasy began to reach fruition -- Brenda and I, touching each other, pleasuring each other sexually. We caressed each other's breasts, both not quite believing we had crossed the line, discovering a new honesty. I saw Norton and the arse-fucker leave the boy to go over to Moira and while the guy made her lick his dick Norton decided his wife needed chastising and taking up the whip he brought it smartly across her buttocks though the pain it caused only bounced her body more firmly against her lover's cock. I could now see the young man clearly again and saw his dick still stood proud. Now we were ignored I asked Brenda a burning question.

"How long have you been having sex with your nephew?"

She smirked. "Quite a while -- he likes his aunty to be very naughty with him. He likes it when I let him watch while I fuck. Do you want him?"

I panted for breathe; Brenda knew what I felt inside -- she slipped a hand up my skirt making my heart pound, excited that after all these years of normal womanly friendship I was about to allow her to play with my clit.

"Do you want him?" she repeated. "Is seeing him like that turning you on?"

"Yeah!" I said, thrusting my groin forward to fuck her hand as I watched Simon over her shoulder. 

"Naughty! We'll have to give you a good spanking first! Would you like that too?"

"Yeah!" I sighed.

With misgivings I allowed Brenda, assisted and directed by Norton, to secure my body over one of the contraptions. Bent forward and knelt over a 'wooden hump' my hands were shackled to two protruding arms, leaving my tits dangling while my backside was forced high in the air, making very conscious, and more than a tad embarrassed, that my anal hole, stretched and open was exposed and available. The first round of slaps stung but warmed the skin of my arse cheeks. They were all behind me except for the boy who from his elevated position stared at me through tear-stained eyes; I felt compelled to return his fixed stare. Wriggling slightly after each spank, a movement restricted due to having my ankles manacled, brought on a feeling of arousal. They seemed to be taking turns as I detected a difference of intensity and even style then suddenly there was a lull; tongue replaced spanking hand, licking the length of my arse crack, pausing at my brown wrinkled hole then it left me, the hands once again spanking me hard. Several times, randomly, tongue took the place of slapping hands.

As I wriggled and moaned, experiencing the contrasting sensations of pain and pleasure I licked my lips as I gazed up at the boy Simon wondering if he was aware that his aunt had promised his cock to me. My arse was now beginning to burn as the ferocity of the slaps increased as a tormenting hand that had slipped under my belly stimulated my cunt, expertly tickling my clitoris. A few minutes later I was begging and pleading!

The spanking of my outstretched arse had been arousing whilst my submissive and humiliating posture had fuelled and stimulated my newly discovered fetish. Fingers had prodded my holes and teased sensitive parts. That changed abruptly when the cracking sound of leather coming down on skin filled the air followed by an excruciating scream - a scream that came from my own throat. Whip had replaced spanking hands.

Fighting to get the words out wasn't easy. I had hardly begun the sentence when pain and a searing flesh burning lash stopped my breath.

"Please stop, you promised not to -- not to be so rough -- leave marks -- please stop!"

Time and again I tried to shout out, crying the words, only to be silenced by the unforgiving thong of leather. How weird it was to notice that the cock of boy Simon grew again from it's half-hearted erection, he having seemed to become almost bored. How he enjoyed my pain and anguish when I thought for a split second that the tormentors had heeded my pleas but was surprised by a having a vengeful dick rammed into my back passage. No let up with the whip though as it was snapped and flicked across my open cunt from the lower front.

I would be, might be, granted mercy if I deeply swallowed and satisfied the penis offered to my lips -- the aged cock of old Norton. Anally, penis replaced penis it seemed, until I realised there were not that many men in the room and instead it was the two women who eagerly used double-ended dildos, satisfying themselves too, filling up their own holes. Was it fair that when the whip was used on their backsides as they fucked me that it came down so much more gently?

At one point Brenda came to my front and decided to replace some of my bodily fluid by forcing me to open my mouth while she emptied her bladder. Norton by now was watching and already his dick was rising, ready for round two.

"Undo her!" commanded Norton, and immediately the men unfastened my shackles letting me stand.

I sobbed loudly pleading with them, thanking them for freeing me and bringing an end to my torment -- but it was all a trick, all in vain. Norton had picked up his little control box and along the rail that ran across the ceiling came travelling toward me a replica of the cross that held the boy. Pushed against the wooden torture machine I felt my wrists manacled and my feet were made to stand on the little platform, supporting my weight, kept in place by strong steel rings locked around my lower calf. With thighs spread wide I imagined the abuse my vagina would be expected to suffer from these cruel perverted people.

Snap went the whip over my raw inner pussy lips as I was hoisted in the air and the cross was turned to face the identical one that held the boy. The young nephew of Brenda looked into the sobbing eyes of this older woman who he had known as motherly and matron like. Norton complained that we were too far apart and pressed his little button making the electric motor of my cross close the gap. Mrs Norton tested and measured by flicking the whip alternately from cunt to cock making both the boy and I flinch and cry out. We looked at each other, the boy and I. Unable to hide evidence of depraved sexual pleasure we felt from seeing each other squirm and wriggle as the smaller leather multi- strapped implement whipped across our private parts like a miniature cat-o'-nine-tails. 

The woman occasionally stopped to rest her arm, using the time to play with her nipples or suck briefly on the boy's throbbing erection; sometimes she kissed and licked my sore pussy. Then it would start again, first a smart flick across the boy's belly, then one against mine. A well-aimed snap hitting along the length of Simon's magnificent penis was followed by an upward flick between my legs. Pleasure and pain seemed to grow into one as we watched the red lines form on each other's tender bodies.

Norton pressed his button and the motors brought us even closer together. From the double bed where the others had been drinking and enjoying the spectacle as they indulged in mutual masturbation Brenda rose and approached, brandishing of all things - a feather! As Moira rested Brenda teased the tip of her young nephew's cock, pulling back the foreskin to gain access to the tender underside of the shaft. How the boy squirmed and wriggled, tormented, like one is when unable to scratch an itch. How I enjoyed watching his predicament! Then roles were reversed -- but not before his itching and tickle were eased (if that is the word) by the harsh contrast of stinging leather smacking against his dick and balls.

Now it my turn as the feather brushed ever so slightly against the inside of my vagina. Showing less control than the boy I let my hips rapidly rotate and jump back and forth. Brenda moved back to the boy -- then again to me. The boy was losing his power to resist and like me was now gyrating his torso like a madman. Norton pressed his button again -- and we were inches from each other -- cock not far from cunt!

The eyes of the boy looked deep into mine and in the midst of our torment we seemed to both sob and smirk not knowing now what was pain and what was pleasurable relief as lash and feather played over our bodies. What we did both know -- though words were never spoken -- was that cock wanted cunt and cunt wanted cock.

Norton pressed his button again.

Lash came across flesh alternating between woman and boy, making bodies thrust forward -- almost touching. Were we both hoping the gap would narrow even more allowing us to join up? Yes -- we were!

I would be the first to beg. The lash had become severe whilst the feather had been made redundant. Norton, who had inched us on even closer so now, when our bodies recoiled and thrust forward under the force of the whip the boy's purple head touched my open slit.

"Closer!" I cried, as the whip alternated from my backside on the left to the boy's on the right, "Bring us closer!"

The boy cried out against a particularly harsh blow making his cock almost enter me. He was still very hard, erect; I reasoned through my ordeal that the fact must mean he wanted me as much as I wanted him! 

Both of us now sobbed loudly forcing our hips as far forward as out pelvises and spines would allow.

Norton, very cruelly, moved us together just another inch, enough to maintain a touch but not enough for cock to enter vagina, not enough to allow us the joy of fucking!

The boy bent his head, straining his neck, straining at the shackles that held his wrists, trying in desperation to reach my breasts, to suck at my tits. Unsuccessful, he threw his head back in angry disappointment causing his midriff to push his cock just that bit more against my burning twat. I yelled and begged, "Let me fuck him -- you promised! Closer!"

Suddenly I heard the whirring sound of the electric motor -- we were going to be joined together -- Norton was coming good! We went the wrong way, wide apart, and then we cried the boy and I, as the gap between us grew.

"Keep still!" Norton commanded.

There was activity as the men moved to release the shackles that held our feet -- but not our wrists. Confused I looked around through my tears. Then the motor started up.

Again the boy and I looked into each other's eyes as the wooden crosses came together. We were desperate, rampant; our eyes darting down constantly watching our throbbing sex organs close in. We grinned and grimaced, impatient to fornicate. The audience laughed and moaned, as our bodies met and, now with legs free I gripped the shackles holding my wrists and lifted up my body wrapping my legs around the boy's torso making his cock penetrate deep inside me.

Norton was adept at manipulating the contraptions and adjusted the height, first lower then higher, building up the intensity of the pleasure as we two bucked and grinded our bodies against each other. Just a little way apart and the boy could suck and bite my tits -- then near when Norton made the machine bounce driving the penis that impaled me deep into me. Higher still and the boy kissed my cunt while I almost suffocated him as I fucked his young face. The reverse allowed me to taste his dick and lick his balls, even delve into his anus with my tongue.

The best was when the boy's sore but rampant cock was inside my tender pussy, straps leathering our arses, making us scream and recoil jerking our bodies tight together.




Mr. Norton From Next Door Ch. 05



And while the others lay on the bed watching and mutually masturbating each other Mrs Norton filmed the proceedings!

I suddenly became aware, though only vaguely, of movement going on around us. Suddenly our writhing bodies came apart as the whirring of the electric motor controlling the crosses was heard; we were about to be released! Like mad people we grinned at each other excited, knowing that we would be able to embrace and enjoy our fucking without the torment imposed on us by the restraints that prevented full contact. Space was made on the bed and we were almost thrown onto the mattress.

As I took the upper position with the boy's penis buried deep inside my cunt I grabbed a handful of his wavy locks and pulled his face against my breasts forcing him to suck hard on a nipple. I fucked the boy for all I was worth; but once again felt the leather strap across my buttocks.

My husband had arrived home in the early hours on the Saturday and had been careful not to disturb me. I slept late managing to keep any tell tale signs of my strange adventures out of sight. After a leisurely meal listening to Brian's account of how he had spent his week I dressed telling him I needed to go the shops, though it was more a case of wanting quiet time to gather my thoughts.

Composed calm and confident I returned home letting myself in through the front door; the noise of the TV reached my ears, there was something familiar about the sound. Stepping into the living room I saw my husband sat in an armchair watching the screen. On his knee was a woman, Brenda, my friend. They both looked up and smiled at me. On the floor in front of the couple was Brenda's skirt. Brian's right hand rested on her naked upper thigh, two fingers inside the leg of her dainty pink panties playing with her pussy slit.

Without fear or shame, they invited me to go and join them -- and watch the film of an older woman ravaging a boy while she was being whipped -- I was the star. Shocked and overwhelmed I dashed into the kitchen, tears pouring from my eyes. The man stood against the work counter was Mr Norton from next door.

"Do you remember our conversation before your husband went away -- and the consequences -- it was in this very room? You have needs, desires, but there is always a price to pay. You chose to enjoy the cocks of other men -- but then so did your friend Brenda -- your husband's willing penis being a regular favourite.

Brenda learnt long ago that there is a price to pay -- as did Mrs Norton."

My hands were being drawn behind my back and tied together as he spoke. I felt the waistband of my skirt become loose and it fell to the floor leaving me stood in pantyhose and knickers from waist down. Norton forced a thumb through the gusset ripping the nylon from front to back.

"Let's join the others and see the rest of the film -- I think they've enjoyed it so much they want to see it again. Sounds like they're watching your dirty little gang bang at the club. Did you know it was being filmed? Of course not!

Let's go into the living room and I'll 'encourage' you to give Brian a commentary as he watches, telling him how much you have enjoyed yourself while he's been away."