1 comments/ 41010 views/ 0 favorites Hell Hath No Fury By: Lord DragonsWing She attacked me like a Valkrye in blood heat. Her dark eyes sparkling from the ectasy of my pain. She stood there, sweat dripping off her erect nipples. Her smile of self-satisfaction mocking my howls of pain. I hung against the wall. The shackles holding my slim body from collapsing. Tears were gone. The pain had emptied them days ago. Welts covered welts from days past. The blood rushing to their surfaces. Yet I lived. And looking down on me smiling, was the woman who had caused my endless nightmare. Wiping the sweat from her forehead with a delicate gloved hand, she reached down and stroked my thighs with the handle of her whip. Flinching at her touch, I waited for the next round of torture. Bending down, she raises my chin so I look into her dark eyes. Her red lips smile at me. Not seductively, not leering. But a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "So, Senor. You winch at my touch now, Yes?" Looking into those eyes, so deep with their pain, I refuse to speak. My chin plunges into my chest as she drops it from her grip. Suddenly, the lash of her whip smacks across my back. New pain mixes with the old. Blood mixes with the sweat. I howl at the lashing. My lungs suck in the dank, humid air. My body limp in the shackles, hangs there. My consciousness on the edge of darkness. My bloodshot eyes stare at the concrete floor. Counting the drops of sweat dripping from my face, I focus on how I got here. Drug deal gone bad. There is no other explanation. But how the fuck was I to know the guy I was doing business with was working through the dictator of this piss ant country. Alll I had to do was accept the price offered. Even if it meant my profit was a few hundred grand less. At least I wouldn't of been in this god forsaken place having the shit beat out of me by some bitch with a fetish. Hearing her heels march across the floor, I ready my mind for the next lashing. Stopping in front of me, she jerks my head up by my hair. Staring at her thong covered crotch, the beads of sweat glistening on her tanned thighs, I gasp pain. "You are my first American to have Senor. I must admit, you are quite a challenge." Releasing my hair, she strolls over to wooden chair sitting in front of me. Licking my dry, chapped lips I attempt to speak. "Wha...What are your plans for me?" The warm air burns my parched throat as I lift my head to stare at her. "Why to kill you of course. Do you think you can name the price of your shipment to my husband and just walk away when he doesn't agree?" "Your husband?" Sitting on the chair, her legs crossed, she raises her head from studying the whip. "Yes, my husband. The Emperor. Do you think you can, how do you Americans say it? Play hardball? With him?" Reality strikes me harder than the lashes of her whip. Realizing my sudden understanding, she grins at me. "Oh, you did not know I was the wife of the Emperor? What did you think? That I was one of his demon mistresses?" Looking at me and laughing, her white teeth flash in the brightly lit room. "My husband has mistresses yes. As I have lovers. But when he wants a job done quietly, I am the one who does it. You see Mr. Taylor. We rule with an iron fist. Most of the world knows that. But they need our oil. So, they turn the other cheek as you say." Rising from her chair, she lets the length of the whip drag behind her. Her long legs, wrapped in thigh high leather boots move with the grace of a tiger ready for it's next meal. "You see, Mr. Taylor. My husband and I are partners. We have no love for each other. Just for the power of ruling this country. At a young age in the University, we realized how we could run this country and what we had to do. Together we're the perfect couple to the peasants who support us. The world sees us as tolerable. But they won't disturb us as long as we pump them their oil." Standing over me, looking down into my sweat drenched face, she continues to smile. "Of course, you know our other resource Mr. Taylor. Cocaine. And that belongs exclusively to my husband and I in this country. Anyone who smuggles drugs to your country pays my husband and I. If they don't, well we exterminate them for the American press to show how we're fighting your drug wars." Leaning down, her face fills my vision. Her black hair flowing over her shoulders as a scent of jasmine mixes with her sweat. "But you Mr. Taylor, present another problem. You know our situation and you tried to take advantage. For that, you are mine to do with as I please until I kill you. You danced with the Devil and now you must pay the price." Looking into those dark eyes I could see the hell that lay before me. Torture and endless pain with no escape. Time without end until I left this life. A life I created. A life that she was going to end. My chin drops to my chest. All hope erased with her final words. I'm paying the price. Lifting my chin with the handle of her whip, the Empress slaps me across the face. Blood, my blood, smears her black gloves. "You do not lower your head to me Mr. Taylor. Do you understand? I am going to kill you eventually. But you may live for a few more days if you do as I say and please me. And it maybe less painful." Staring blankly at her face, all hopes of life gone, I pray for days with less pain. Ripping off her black thong, the Empress smiles down at me. "Do you get my meaning Mr. Taylor?" Lowering my eyes to her shaved pussy, I lick my dry lips. "Ye..Yes." Grabbing a handfull of my scalp, the Empress shoves my face into her pussy. The smell of her juices surround my nostrils. My chapped lips, dry from lack of water, absorb the Empress's moisture. My tongue begins to lap at the wetness. Drinking in her juices, the air no longer burns my throat. Throwing back her head, the Empress moans. "Yesssss, Mr. Taylor. That is what I mean." Dropping her whip, the Empress reaches down and spreads her labia with her gloved hand. My wrist struggle against the shackles to get closer to the moisture. My tongue flicks in and out of her shaved pussy, drinking every drop of moisture. Watching her clit swell, the sweet dew clinging, I move my tongue to her swollen clitoris. Moaning from pleasure, the Empress grinds her hips into my face, rubbing her juices into my dried skin. Deeper my tongue probes, not wanting to miss a drop of the nectar. Releasing her swollen labia, the Empress grabs the back of my head and forces my tongue deeper inside her. My tongue moves furiously, fresh juices, new energy. I lick faster and harder. Drinking her water, moving her to fill my mouth with her sweet moisture. Bucking and moaning against my face, I feel her muscles tighten around my tongue. Forcing my tongue between the tight muscles of her pussy, I search out the water inside her. Suddenly, without warning, she explodes in my mouth. Filling my throat with the warm life giving wetness. My mouth opens to accept her liquids. Swallowing, my tongue moves faster in and out of her pussy. Lapping her juices into my mouth, I drink deeply of her cum. Feeling her body shudder under my tongue, the Empress backs away. My tongue still searching the air for her wet pussy as she stands there, purring in satisfaction. "Yessss, Mr. Taylor. You are going to do fine. I have not had an orgasm like that in along time. I'm glad you like the way I taste. Tomorrow I'll let you eat my pussy again. Then, you may be allowed to fuck me. I want to feel how an American cock cums inside me." Moving over to the wall, the Empress grabs a ladle of water. Holding my head up I smile at her. My mouth already damp from her liquids. I drink from the ladle, gulping the clean water down. Staring at her dripping pussy, I imagine all the water she has waiting for me to drink. Throwing back her head and laughing, the Empress smiles at my stare. "Don't you worry my little pet. You may taste me tomorrow." I watch the Empress turn and head for the door. Her heels clicking across the floor. Licking my lips, I watch her cum running down her thighs. Yes, tomorrow. I will drink again. And you will cum again. And you will let me live another day. And another. Days add up to weeks, weeks to months. And I shall drink each day from her fountain. Then I will live. Hell Hath No Fury Unfaithful. The ugly word sounded foreign and strange when I said it out loud. Like it had been the name of a dish or a shampoo. I wrote it down on a piece of paper. Unfaithful. Meandering, curving lines in blue against white, making a pretty picture of symmetry and grace, but without any meaning. "It didn't mean anything. SHE means nothing to me. It was just sex!" Moron. As if that would make me feel better? That he threw away the beautiful thing we had together just because he felt an itch? Actually, it WOULD have been better if he had fallen in love with that woman. You can't help falling in love. If he had left me to be with his heart's desire, it wouldn't be so tacky. "It didn't mean anything." Fool. Of course it meant something. All actions, big or small, have consequences. He cheated on me. He had solemnly promised not to have sex with any other woman but me, and now he had broken that promise. He had taken my trust and wiped his ass with it like it was toilet paper. As a result, I could never trust him again. Hell, I could never trust ANY man again! 3½ years of waiting patiently, of staying true to my man - why had I bothered? Yes, I was bitter. And I felt pretty damned righteous about it, too! The man I loved had put horns on my head! Well, my sweetheart, I'd use those horns and turn myself into a she-devil. No more Mrs Nice Gal! From now on, I'd be a Bitch. A She-Devil. I'd not let my emotions control my life anymore. I'd be cold and cool and analyze the situation just like I did with the numbers and figures at work. Jean-Paul had cheated on me. He was a stupid, unworthy chicken - but I still wanted him. Apart from everything else, he was strong, handsome, witty, and nice to curl up next to for comfort. Oh - and he had a HUGE dick. The good qualities compensated for the bad ones. As long as I didn't fool myself into thinking that I could trust him not to cheat on me again, or think that life would ever be as pink and sweet and sugary as in the movies; I could make this work. With a few alternations to our previous arrangement, that is... *************************** Since Jean-Paul's work required lots of travels and overweight stays at hotels in other cities - which, apparently, was where he hooked up with that woman - I was left alone every now and then. And if HE couldn't stay faithful, then why the hell should I? I drove him to the airport and kissed him off. I didn't stop to watch the plane take off, but instead went back to my car and drove down an old, familiar street. There were lights on in Diego's window. Good, it meant he was still up. I pressed my finger on the button next to his name. A few seconds later, his light, melodious voice came through the little metal box. "Dígame." "It's me." "Linda?" "Can I come up?" "Of course!" The buzzing sound from the gate told me that Diego had unlocked it. I took the elevator up. Diego lived on the 7th floor, and I didn't want to arrive sweaty and out of breath - plenty of time for that later. He was standing in the doorway when I stepped out into the hall. "Hi, Linda!" he said. "Hola," I said. His apartment smelled of spices, and the stereo in the living room played a cheerful salsa. It was as if nothing had changed, as if time had stood still for 4 years. "Can I get you something?" said Diego. "Not yet," I said and turned around. I put my hands around Diego's neck and kissed him. He let out a surprised grunt, but kissed me back with the passion of someone who hasn't had a date in months. His hands slid around my waist, and then he lifted me up and carried me into his bedroom. His bed was messy, but he knew I didn't mind. He tossed me down and crawled down beside me. I reached for him. "Linda?" he said. "What about Jean-Paul?" Honest and fair, even though he risked me changing my mind about fucking him. You had to love the guy. "Don't worry," I said. "He doesn't exist tonight. Just fuck me, Diego." He still seemed to hesitate, so I kissed him hard and opened his shirt. He didn't protest when I straddled him and moved my tongue down his neck and along his collarbone. I nibbled the skin of his neck, and with a groan, he put his arms around me and caressed my butt. I continued my nibbling down his hairy torso, pulled my fingers through the thick carpet of soft hair on his chest, and flicked the tip of my tongue over his left nipple. Another groan, and he squirmed under my tongue. Diego had the world's most sensitive nipples. I teased him until he grabbed me and spun us around so that he got on top. Now it was my turn to be stripped and stimulated. Diego's expert tongue hadn't forgotten where I most liked to be tickled, and soon he had me grabbing on to the pillow for support, as the magic he performed on my breasts made me both laugh and cry. I felt triumphant, getting this turned on by the touch of a hot young man instead of my husband. Revenge was indeed sweet. Sweet as chocolate, sweet as wild berries, sweet as Diego's mouth moving over my body. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed his hard-on against me. He was naked in no time. I helped him remove my last few items of clothing. I kept the shoes on. I knew Diego liked women with high heels. He didn't waste any more time but drove his hard tool into my wetness. It felt wonderful. Sure, he wasn't as well-equipped as Jean-Paul, but he was Forbidden Fruit, and that turned me on. I moved my hips to meet his thrusts. I loved the feeling of him scraping against my clit on the way in and over my G-spot once inside. I moaned his name when I had my first orgasm. Diego kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyes and my nose. He grabbed my right leg and pushed it up so he got a different angle for penetration. It wasn't very comfortable, but the effect it had was worth it. "Yes, just like that!" I cried. "Yes, Diego, yessss..!" "It feels so good, querida!" he panted next to my ear. "I've missed you so much!" I shouted out loud when I came again, and Diego chuckled and placed his hand over my mouth. "Not so loud," he asked me. "The neighbors will think I'm murdering you!" "I will murder YOU if you stop doing this!" I spit out. "Come on! Faster! Harder! Be rough with me!" Diego grabbed my arms and pinned them down, pressed me to the mattress, while he pounded me hard and rhythmically. I groaned and whined when I came a third time. This proved too much for him, and he bit my shoulder to stay quiet as a few mighty thrusts sent all his fluids inside me. Very reluctantly, we lied down next to each other, panting. Diego wrapped his arms around me and I curled up next to him, playing with the hair on his chest. I pressed my legs together to keep his cum inside. If there really was a God, and if She was on my side, Diego would make me pregnant tonight, and THAT would be my revenge on Jean-Paul. What? You didn't think I was just after the sex, did you? Hell Hath No Fury Author's note: I must confess up front that I did not come up with the idea for this story. I read one with a similar theme several years ago, but I cannot remember on what site, or by what author. Even though I can't remember most of the details of that story, I do remember the ending. I've always thought it was one of the better stories I've read. So, having confessed to that, I will write my version of it. ~~~~~~ Gail never felt guilty about her affair with Carl, even though he and his wife were close friends. She really liked Carl's wife, Linda. Carl and Jack, Gail's husband, were good friends too, bowling and fishing buddies. It was a beneficial arrangement for everyone, even though Jack and Linda knew nothing of the affair and thus had no idea of the benefits they were unknowingly reaping from it. The discrete lovers each had needs that their respective spouses could simply never understand and would never provide. Gail loved Jack very much; just as she had from the first minute she'd met him eleven years earlier. He was a wonderful man, a good provider, and they shared the desire to remain childless. They enjoyed many of the same activities and enjoyed each other's company. Gail though, had once dated a boy in college who possessed a very large penis. It was long and thick and had sent her into pure ecstasy hundreds of times during the few months of their relationship. Jack's penis wasn't small by normal standards, but it was tiny when compared to that possessed by her college boyfriend. She managed to put it out of her mind for years and was genuinely happy and content with Jack's lovemaking. While attending the bachelorette party for one of her friends though, and upon seeing the massive cock possessed by one of the male dancers hired to entertain them, the memories of her college lover came flooding back. It was all she could do to keep her hands and mouth off of it. For the next year, Gail could think of little else. She tried to erase it from her memory but she could not. She even bought a large dildo and used it on herself when Jack was out of town, but it was not a satisfying substitute for what she really needed. Gail would never have gone looking for a man with the type of equipment she needed, longed for, ached to experience again. No, she would not do that—could not even entertain the idea. But she didn't have to go looking. She knew where one was. Such a cock was between the legs of their neighbor, Carl. She'd seen him dozens of times in swimming trunks at both their houses. And she'd seen the bulge it made down his leg during the dirty jokes and stories he and Jack would swap on occasion. Gail's obsession grew until she finally made up her mind to have it. It wouldn't be difficult. She'd seen Carl staring at her in "that" way many times. Gail was sure that tempting Carl into making the first move would be easy . . . and it was. But Carl was also very blunt about why he would consider a rendezvous. "I have never cheated on Linda, and there is only one thing that would make me even consider it." He too had a hidden obsession, and it was one not shared easily. She was shocked at what she heard when finally the alcohol level in his blood loosened him enough to finally say it out loud. "Linda gives me everything I want . . . except one thing. I know her well enough to know what her reaction would be, so I can't force myself to ask her." It took a little more prodding from Gail even then, but he had finally just blurted it out "very rough sex". Gail managed to recover from the shock enough to ask him to be more specific, and boy, had he ever been specific. He liked to actually drag his lover around by her hair, spank her harshly, bite her nipples, sting her entire body with a riding crop, and even force himself into her ass and throat. "No mercy given", he'd said while looking Linda straight in the eyes. Linda's reaction had been simply, "Wow! I'm going to have to give that some thought." After several days of contemplating just what price she was willing to pay to have what she needed, Gail finally agreed to his terms. And for the next fourteen months, they gave each other what they could not get at home. They would meet once a week. There was no love between them. They each loved their spouses. Their relationship was merely a business arrangement, quid pro quo, tit for tat, this for that. One week, Carl's massive cock would be hers to do with as she pleased. The next week, Gail's body would belong to him. It worked out well for both of them, and their spouses were never the wiser. And then one day the unthinkable happened. Carl ended their relationship abruptly and without explanation. He said simply "It's over between us and that is that." Gail couldn't believe it. He had not shown any signs that his brutal obsession had dwindled. She knew he'd miss it and come crawling back to her, begging for forgiveness, but he did not. After three weeks, Gail parked her car down the street from Carl's office and then followed him. He drove to a different hotel than where she'd always met him, but there was no doubt in Gail's mind why he was there. Her suspicions were confirmed when Carl was joined by a young blond woman—young and sexy . . . much younger and sexier than Gail. ~~~~~~ Six months later, Gail began planning for a party to be held at their home. Six couples were invited, and all six accepted. It would be a marvelous party. Gail even hired a band to play out at the pool. To help with the preparations, Gail solicited the help of one of the other wives. Her name was Roberta, or Berta as she preferred to be called. Berta was famous for throwing wonderful parties. She was a great cook and had a knack for making every party special. Of course, Berta had no idea that she was going to be Gail's coconspirator in extracting her revenge from Carl. She didn't need to know. When Berta heard Gail's idea for a special game they might play to make the party more memorable, Berta eagerly agreed "Oh yes, that could be fun, and I'm sure everyone will remember our party for the rest of their lives." Gail would print up the rules and present them to the other guests prior to the party breaking up. Berta's role would be to simply support her in gaining everyone's agreement to play. Gail had also solicited the cooperation of Jack and Linda, but without giving them every detail of the game. She told them only enough to get them to agree to help her encourage the other party guests to go along with it. Jack thought it was a great idea and agreed eagerly. Linda, being more reserved finally agreed but only after a fair amount of coaxing. ~~~~~~ The party was a huge success. The food was marvelous. The band was great, and everyone seemed to relax and enjoy the mild summer evening by the pool. Gail had done an excellent job of not making direct eye contact with Carl. When she did accidentally look his way and found that he was paying her new bikini no attention at all, her stomach began to churn. It took a concentrated effort not to giggle when she thought of how she was going to make him pay for jilting her. Gail was both nervous and giddy inside as she announced that it was getting late and that they should all move into the living room for a game before parting "Just a little icing on the cake that has been a truly wonderful evening for Jack and me." When everyone was seated, Gail handed out the printed rules. As she was doing so, Berta stood and said "Ladies, here's your big chance . . . oh and I'm sure you men will enjoy it too." The guests were evenly split in their reactions, but with some coaxing from those who loved it, the others fell into place. All six couples agreed to play. Of course, no one would ever know if they actually did. The printed rules had a brief introduction: "If one were to crawl into the brain of their spouse with a broom and flashlight, sweep away the cobwebs and shine the light into the dark corners, they would probably find some interesting little hidden fantasy that has been locked away there and has never seen the light of day. Our marriages have all lasted longer than seven years, and one for over fifteen years. Unfortunately, even long term married couples sometimes have trouble sharing those most personal, most secretive, most guarded, and perhaps most embarrassing little fantasies with our spouses. This game is intended to provide each of us with a means to let our fantasy be known to our spouse in the least embarrassing way possible. If we are to enjoy the rest of our lives together, we should know and trust each other well enough to share it. So if you all agree, here are the rules:" 1.Each spouse must agree to participate in the fulfillment of their partner's fantasy without question, without issuing judgment, and without complaint. 2.No fantasy is too wild, too weird, too kinky, or too strange. Spouses should feel free to describe their fantasy completely, in exacting detail, without reservation or fear of scorn. 3.To make describing it easier, the fantasy will be typed and mailed to the spouse. 4.No words will ever be spoken about your spouse's fantasy, before fulfilling it, or afterward . . . especially afterward. 5.No spouse may inquire about the details or ask for clarification. They must trust that their spouse was as specific or as vague as they wished to be, even if that means filling in between the lines yourself. 6.The husbands will go first, mailing their wives their typed instructions within one week of tonight. 7.The wives must fulfill their husband's fantasy within two weeks of receiving it. 8.The wives will then type up and mail their fantasy to their husbands within one week of having fulfilled their husband's fantasy. 9.Again, the husbands must fulfill their wife's fantasy within two weeks of receiving it. 10.No one may share their spouse's fantasy with another living person . . . ever. 11.Your decision to participate is to be made here, tonight, before you leave the party. There can be no discussion or private negotiation about it after leaving here. "Have fun, and enjoy knowing that you are free to describe your fantasy to your spouse completely, in great detail, and without fear of rejection or ridicule." Gail could feel Carl's stare burning into her. She ignored it and asked each person in turn for their commitment to play the game and their agreement to the rules and conditions. After only modest hesitation, all agreed. There were hugs and kisses at the door, and more than one comment about the game and what a wonderful idea it was. ~~~~~~ Linda worked outside the home. Gail did not. Their mailboxes were right next to each other at the curb, so for Gail, checking Linda's mailbox everyday was easy. On the forth day, she found a letter addressed to Linda from Carl. The steam worked its magic and Gail was soon reading Carl's fantasy. She chuckled while reading it. It didn't surprise her that Carl had not chosen to reveal his hidden obsession to his wife. He was a coward. But knowing Linda as Gail did, she knew Carl was right about how Linda would surely react if he did. Carl and Linda had planned to go to the Caribbean in a few days. Carl's typed fantasy was simple. Linda was to go topless on the beach and in the beachside bars at every opportunity. Gail knew that Linda would shit when she read it . . . but of course, Linda would never read it. Gail stuffed the envelope with the replacement letter that she had prepared weeks earlier. Then she resealed it and returned it to her neighbor's mailbox. ~~~~~~ Linda's jaw dropped before she finished reading the first paragraph of her husband's letter. She couldn't believe he had such a thing in his head, such a perverse, twisted, disgusting desire. By the time she finished reading it, she was in tears and shaking all over. Even though she'd never been much of a drinker, she headed straight to the wet bar and poured herself a healthy shot of Scotch. She drank it quickly, shuttered, and then poured another one equal in volume to the first. "Holy Shit!" she finally gasped out loud as the alcohol finally made its way into her bloodstream and began tingling her nerves. Then in a more reverent, solemn tone, she said "Hoooolllllyyyyy Shiiiiiiiit!" ~~~~~~ It had taken every bit of restraint Linda could muster to resist telling Carl what she thought of his perverted fantasy and that she was going to refuse to do it. Finally though, she came to the realization that the . . . the fantasy was part of him. He wanted it, regardless of how disgusting the mere idea of it was to her. That . . . thing . . . was a part of her husband, part of the man she married, the man she loved far beyond her ability to describe it. She worshiped him. She always had. She had married him for better and for worse. For nine years, it had been easy. She had received only the better. How could she balk now that she was being presented with the worst? Linda resigned herself to fulfilling her husband's fantasy. She had made all of the preparations, just as he had described them in his letter. He had made it easier for her by telling her in his letter where to find what she needed. She couldn't believe he actually knew where she should go for those things, but he had obviously thought it through and had done his homework. That, as much as anything else, is what had finally convinced her to do it. If he wanted it that badly—enough to actually investigate where to go to get those things, then he must truly want it. She kept telling herself over and over "Just do it and get it over with and then it will be done and we can get past it and hopefully . . . forget it." ~~~~~~ Carl Ferguson arrived home at exactly five-twenty, just like he did every weekday. But Linda was usually there to greet him with a bright, cheery smile and a warm hug. Where was she? "Linda?" He called out. "I'm up here" she called back to him "in the bedroom. Come on up. I have something I want to show you." Ah, he thought, perhaps a new outfit for their upcoming trip, or maybe she'd even gone to the tanning salon to insure that she didn't have tan lines when she had to finally go topless on the beach for him. He chuckled at the thought of it. He knew she'd be embarrassed, but she really did need to open up more and stop being so sexually inhibited. Perhaps this little fantasy game of Gail's was going to be the first step in that direction. The instant he stepped into the bedroom, he was grabbed from behind. Strong hands were on him, at least four of them. His arms were pinned behind his back roughly. Before he could protest, a rag was stuffed into his mouth, almost taking several teeth with it. He was forced toward the bed like a rag doll. Whoever they were, they were strong and he had no chance of freeing himself. He finally managed to turn enough to see one of them. He was a big body-builder type with large muscles rippling beneath his t-shirt. The two of them worked in tandem. His hands were tied to the brass headboard. He felt his pants being removed and then his boxers. He caught a brief glimpse of Linda standing in the bathroom door. She appeared to be crying, but she wasn't making a move to help him. Why wasn't she calling the police? Why wasn't she running away? Why was she just standing there watching as these two brutes bound him? He felt something like leather straps being tied around his thighs. He struggled to free himself, but it was useless. Finally, he was hoisted up onto his knees and the straps stretched tightly toward the head of the bed and tied there. To prevent him from rolling over, straps were also stretched from his thighs out to the sides. He could feel the tug in each direction. His ankles were drawn in the opposite direction, toward the foot of the bed. He was totally helpless, his face in a pillow and his ass sticking high into the air. He couldn't get free. And then there was almost total silence. The only thing he could hear was his wife sobbing. ~~~~~~ "How could he possibly want this?" Linda thought to herself for the thousandth time as she struggled to regain her composure. The two men were gone—the ones Carl had instructed her to call and to whom she had given the five hundred dollars for helping her prepare her husband to receive his horrid fantasy. Still not sure that she could go through with it, she hesitated and then showed him the cat-o-nine tails in her trembling hand. His eyes widened when he saw it and they were pleading with her to stop. His head was shaking violently and he was emitting muffled pleadings through the gag in his mouth, just as he had described in his letter. Linda steeled herself. So far everything had happened just as he'd described it to her. She hadn't even had to tell those two men what to do. They had already received their instructions from him. It was just so . . . surreal. Finally, she proceeded. One sharp sting of the whip across his buttocks, then one across the back of his thighs, then three more across his buttocks. Each time the whip met his flesh, his muffled screams intensified, and each time, the strands of the whip left their signature on him. Okay, she whispered to herself, finally able to take a deep breath. That was five hard lashes with the whip. Thank god that part is over. She took several more deep breaths and then reached under the bed for the huge strap-on dildo. It was a horrible looking thing. It had bumps and ridges over most of its surface. It was huge, at least twelve inches long and as big around as . . . as his own thick massive penis. She had no idea how it would fit inside him, but she had purchased the precise brand and model he had specified. She removed her clothes and immediately began strapping it around her. As per his instructions, she did this while standing to one side of the bed so that he could watch her prepare herself. Just as with the whip, his eyes looked first horrified and then pleading, and his shaking head and muffled begging became even more disturbing. Still, she was determined. She moved behind him. God, if he hadn't been so specific about her not lubing more than just the tip of the gigantic thing—just enough to get it started inside him, it would surely be easier on him. But it had long since become obvious to her that he didn't want it to be easy. For some weird, perverted, disgusting reason, he wanted it to be as painful as possible. She positioned the tip against its target, took a deep breath, and thrust her hips forward with all of her might. The End Sir_Erotica Hell Hath No Fury... Synopsis: Ms. Claus has had enough of Santa's philandering. It's payback time. January 5th, 2006 The long black hair hung along the collar accusingly like a lump of jet black coal against a background of brilliant white fur. Ms. Claus snorted, "Probably Mexican coal at that..." She tossed Santa's coat into the laundry with a glower. The soiled garment reeked of tobacco and alcohol which, combined with the dark hair, fleshed out the mental image of what Santa had been doing over the past week and a half. Deep down the woman knew this had been going on...for centuries, if not longer. But something snapped on that cold day on the North Pole. Ms. Katerina Claus had finally gone over the edge. She knew what she needed to do and her blue eyes glimmered with a steely resolve. In the bedroom, Jolly Saint Nick snored away a hangover, blissfully unaware of the repercussions of his latest holiday adventure. _________________________________ December 24th, 2006 Katerina clutched a warm cocoa to her breast as she waved to the departing sleigh with a smile. Turning away from the dark night, blowing snow and whistling wind, she retreated into the house to her bedroom. Swapping the traditional cocoa for some wine, the woman slipped off her red flannel robe, and took out a slender vibe. She was going to enjoy this to the hilt. There were a lot of things that normal people didn't know about life on the North Pole. The folklore and branding image folks left out a lot of details about how things really were; after all, they were writing for five-year olds as their primary audience. And little kids certainly didn't need to know that Ms. Claus was a statuesque blonde bombshell who preferred lesbian porn and bondage to baking sugar cookies. Sure, Katerina Claus was a young bisexual tart. But Santa Claus liked her like this, and you wouldn't believe some of the things that elf magic can do to keep a girl young. Look at it this way, how else, besides magic, could that fat old man get it up anyway? Katerina was many things, but one of the things that she wasn't was unfaithful. The last time she got a sniff of pussy was back in her home village in Germania when she first met Nicholas. She, Nick, and a luscious raven-haired girl named Renate had a lovely threesome on St. Stephen's Day. Looking back on things, that liaison was perhaps a bad omen for the marriage, but the fact remained that Katerina had gone well over a millennium without a good woman to lay. One of the other things that people never heard about was Santa's week off. There was one stint during the year when Santa wasn't watching to see who was naughty and nice. Santa's sleigh flew out of the North Pole on Christmas Eve, but wouldn't be back until after Twelfth Night. Katerina didn't begrudge the old man his time away from the office. After all, the rest of the year was spent with endless board meetings at all the major toy companies, overseeing the outsourced manufacturing operations in China, and dealing with the licensing elves. What got Katerina's lace panties in a twist was the way in which Jolly Saint Nick spent his holidays. Boozing. Cock-fighting. Whoring. More often than not, the old elf spent the twelve days of Christmas in a tequila induced haze, banging the best prostitutes that Tijuana had to offer. Thailand was another favorite as well, but Mexico was old reliable. Hell, the year before last the reindeer had to bust Santa out of a Mexican prison after he busted a pool cue over the head of a biker in a massive bar brawl. Rudolf really was the most wonderful reindeer of all after that night. He was still missed. "I saw Momma kissing Santa Claus" indeed... The lecherous old man was not only a mean drunk, he was rough in the sack as well. Dozens of lifetimes of being the moral arbiter for children the world over gave him some control issues. Lately, he's taken it upon himself to treat naughty girls like shit. Things had to change. Being faithful was one thing, but Katerina had reached her limit. Tonight would be the start of a new world. It took eleven months to execute, but the plan was easy for Katerina really. All she needed to do was co-opt the elves. And considering the fact that Santa neglected to bring any lady elves with the fellas when he opened up the first shop, it was pretty easy for Ms. Claus to seduce the staff. She didn't even need to fuck the little guys, they settled for handjobs. Errr...well finger jobs at any rate. Katerina started in R&D, and finger-fucked her way onto Distribution and Logistics. Things had changed quite a bit at the North Pole since the dawn of the electronic age. Ever since Hermey went off the deep end and became a dentist in 1983 after trying to build an Atari 800, manufacturing had been quietly outsourced to Asia. It was an easy business decision, woodworking tools didn't go well with circuit boards. So handcrafted dollies were out and the gang focused on learning new skills to avoid being downsized. Mastering the art of chip design was one of the talents of Santa's reorganized onsite workforce. Once Ms. Claus had R&D wrapped around her fingers (or vice versa as the case may be), she pitched them the idea for two chips to be added to every toy that little boys and girls would be getting. Little girls would be getting the 'quim-chim-er-ree' model which would slowly introduce them to the wonders of feminine love as the years and exposure built up. Little boys would be getting the 'himbo-pa-looza' which should make them nice and docile for the next generation of women. With some time and effort, Ms. Claus was even able to get the data analysis department to abolish the naughty and nice categories. Girls would now be classed into either Dominant or Submissive and given the appropriate chip. The girls also got a second pass to make them Lesbian or Bi. Unfortunately, all the bisexual girls were also coded as dominant, but they got the benefit of being able to choose whether to top a submissive woman or man as their whims dictated. 'The world must be peopled', as the Bard once wrote. As for the boys...well as the himbo chip might indicate, they just got dumped into the submissive bucket. Boys were sweet little dears when they're young, but Katerina really couldn't abide them turning into beasts like Santa on a tequila bender. The chips were built into every toy designed by Santa Labs. Every dolly, action figure, teddy bear, death ray laser rifle, tea set, and video game was outfitted with the extra part. The beauty of the whole operation was that Santa was so focused on management and distribution, that he wouldn't notice the design tweaks. Electronics were a little over his head, so he focused on getting Santa-designed product into every toy store and house around the world. His own midnight ride was mostly symbolic - parents did a lot of the heavy-lifting in getting toys under the trees in the twenty-first century. After a year of work, the bottom line was Santa had no idea what he was delivering to the boys and girls of the world that night. He also had no idea that he'd be delivering these chips every year from now on. Patrimony was on the way out, and as these kids grew up, Santa wouldn't be able to find a whore willing to touch him. Unless of course, the jolly elf had Katerina's permission to take it from his local strap-on-wearing Dominatrix. Katerina would be working on that too just to make sure that Nicholas acted like a good boy all year long. The idea of jolly old sub-nicholas had its appeal as long as he was easily controlled. Sure the whole process would take a generation or two to play out, but what's twenty or fifty years in the face of elf magic? In time, she'd even start to work with the branding folks to put Santa Claus out to pasture. Mistress Claus had a much better ring to it. The old man was going to be an anachronism in the sexually-charged matriarchy that Katerina was creating. Besides, she was much cuter that Santa anyway. She'd be resplendent in her red velvet corset and fur trimmed garters. Mistress Claus laughed at the vision of that going onto Christmas cards. Experimentally, she tried a sexy ho-ho-ho to see if she could make her breasts jiggle like a bowl full of jelly. She could. Yep, she thought, every was coming up roses. Katerina smiled and pinched a full nipple as she sipped her merlot. Soon enough, she sank her toy into her dewy blonde folds and got down to the business of bringing herself some Christmas joy. As she began to moan and writhe, she whispered under her breath, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night." Hell Hath No Fury... I can hear someone sobbing "Take it out! Please take it out!" Over and over. I realize that even though those words are being spoken on the video tape that is being played on the TV in the cheap motel room I'm in, they are also coming from my lips as well. I feel an incredible burning in my ass as I struggle to free myself from my bonds and relieve myself of my agony. From the phone receiver near my head I become aware of a voice telling me to remain calm, help is on the way. As I pass in and out of consciousness I hear sirens growing louder. My struggle increases. I must not let them find me this way! Perhaps I better start at the beginning. I'm 48, own my own consulting firm, and married over twenty years to one of the most stunning women I know. Oh yea, when I say one I have to add that she has a twin sister that looks almost identical. Separately they are beautiful, when together they are every mans fantasy. I doubt that I am any woman's fantasy, bald and at least 30 pounds overweight. As much as my wife and sister work-out I watch football and guzzle beer. Hey I already have a wife why bother working out and eating healthy? Sex? Hell yea! I love it. As a matter of fact my wife loves it too. Any time and almost any way. We have done just about everything you can think of; roll-playing, light bondage, public (out of town vacation), even a threesome with her sister once when we were a lot younger. My sister hates me now, she doesn't like the way I treat her sister and she calls me "That fat slob". I just leer at her and remember her on her knees with my cock in her mouth! There is one thing that has always been off-limits. Anal sex. And if you saw my wife you would know what a shame that is. Her and her sister have with out doubt the most fuck-able asses in the world. I'd like to say that those asses fueled my obsession but to be honest I was an ass man long before I met them. There is nothing like being balls deep in a tight little asshole, willing or not. So there I am, a stunning beauty of a wife that will do anything except the one thing that drives my obsession. I learned early, at collage, where I met her, that even discussing it was a deal breaker. No anal, never. That was true twenty some years ago and its true now. That's where my staff comes in. If my wife, the local bank branch manager, or her equally fuck-able head of nurses at the local hospital, sister won't accommodate me I'll find someone who will. That someone one is my assistant Candice or Candie as I call her. I don't know what I would do without Candie. I admit that she does most of the work and if she had finished her degree I might even be working for her. But more important to me is her other duties. Namely finding office help to satisfy my cravings. You see Candie doesn't really like anal sex either. I still take her ass from time to time though. I like to think it makes her work harder finding suitable replacements for all the file clerks and receptionists I go though. I still don't know how she convinces them that its part of their duties. Most leave after the first week and even the ones that like it, and there are a surprising number, are sent packing when I get tired of them. Variety is the spice of life, right? Anyway it had been a productive year. We had assets totaling over 4 million dollars and I was running Candie ragged finding new asses for me to bugger. I must have pushed her too hard and turning down her raise must have pissed her off. I should have seen it coming but I didn't, even after she threatened to walk out. Success had made me arrogant. I was having a nice afternoon session with my latest receptionist, a pretty redhead not more than 19, who had pleaded with me that there had to be some other way to keep her job. She even offered to blow me. Anything but "that". I of course didn't need a blow job. Hell I was married to the best cocksucker in town! I almost came just listening to her sob, over and over, for me to "take it out". Just as I was about to cum Candie buzzed my intercom and said my wife had called and would be there in ten minutes. I considered finishing then decided not to risk it. Damn it. Why hadn't Candie just told her I was out of the office? I barely had time to collect myself and send the trollop back to her desk when my wife walked in. I promised myself it would be Candie bent over my desk before the day was over! "Hi Honey" she smiled at me. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" She must have noticed I was a little flushed. "No baby. You know I'm always happy to see you" I said. "What brings you down?" "Well this, if you're not too busy" and opened her coat. I gave a low whistle of appreciation. All she had on under her coat was a black bra holding up her perfect breasts and the sheerest of black panties over a black lace garter belt and black stockings. She smiled sexily and tossed her long blond hair. I came around the desk and grabbed for her, intending to lay her across my desk where my receptionist had been only moments ago, but she laughed and danced away from my grasp. "So eager!" she laughed. "I want you. Now!" I said, making another grab for her. She avoided me and giggled, "Not here. What if one of your staff caught us?" "What would they think of their boss?" I laughed at the irony. If she only knew! "Where then, or are you just running around town teasing hard working executives?" "Well, we could go down to that dirty bookstore." "You remember the time we took turns sucking dicks at the glory hole?" she cooed as I turned beet red. She always brought that up when she wanted to embarrass me. "I was drunk!" I defended myself. "Besides its barely three o'clock. I don't think a bank manager wants to be seen going in there in broad daylight." "You're right. How about that sleazy motel across the tracks?" "I'll get my coat" I said. "Hurry. I'll ride with you. I'm so fucking horny, I took a taxi and was flashing the driver all the way over here!" Twenty minutes later I was unlocking the door to the room. I wanted to take her right there on the floor. She had flashed half the people we had passed on the way over, that is when she didn't have my cock jammed down her throat. She had other ideas. "Strip!" I was a bit taken aback by her command. then she smiled. "Oh, you want to be in charge huh?" "Well baby that's OK with me" I started to strip. She tossed her coat on the chair and started rummaging about in her purse. She pulled out some cloth straps with buckles, a silk scarf and a video tape. "You came prepared" I said and tried to see the title of the porn flick. "This ought to be fun. Do I get to tie you up?" "No, just relax and let me be in control." "Now bend over the foot of the bed." "If you're nice I might consider giving you the one thing you've always wanted." I must have looked like a little boy as I hurried over to the bed. She giggled as she strapped my ankles to the legs of the bed. I really had to stretch my legs to make it. Then she bunched all the pillows under my stomach and tied my hands to the headboard. It felt awkward and uncomfortable with my ass sticking up. then she tied the silk scarf around my eyes blocking my view. Suddenly she forced a ball gag between my teeth. I started to sweat. I feel her getting up on the bed and sliding her body over mine. "What is your greatest fantasy?" she purred in my ear and lightly nipped the lobe. "What have you wanted for over twenty years that you couldn't have?" Running her hand under my torso she tweaks my nipple. "Is it my ass?" Then she pinched my nipple with her long nails. Real pain shot through me but my cock was rock hard. "Is that your ultimate fantasy?" I nod my head up and down vigorously and feel the pain of her nails again. "Really?" she coos. "Nothing could top that?" I shake my head no. Now I feel her hand groping my cock. "Not even having both my ass and my sisters at the same time?" she whispers. She can feel my cock lurch. "Do you want me to call her, Sweetie?" I can't nod my head fast enough. "OK then, I will!" After giving my cock a tug I hear her dialing her cell phone. "Hi, its me." "Yea, he's a little tied up" she giggles, "Come on over, we'll be ready." "How about some porn while we wait lover?" She said. "I picked this out just for you." I heard her put the tape in. Then I heard a voice whimpering and sobbing, "Please pull it out! I'll do anything! Please its too big!" A chill ran down my spine and I really started to sweat. I struggled to free myself but it was hopeless. "Whats the matter sweetie? Don't you like it? I picked it out just for you." Now there is ice in her voice. "The picture quality is pretty good. Too bad you can't see. It's amazing what they can do with micro cameras these days!" I heard a knock on the door, she opened it and I heard not only her sister but Candie too! "Did you bring the stuff?" "I've got it right here" "Can you hear me you fat slob?" her sister asks. I'm going to remove your blindfold, would you like that?" I nod my head. Maybe I can plead with my eyes. She takes away the blindfold and I can see a small convex mirror positioned in front of me. In it I can see almost the whole room. I can see the video playing on the TV. Now its a different girl crying as she is being buggered by a man that is clearly me. As she sobs I grunt and fill her ass with my spunk, you can see by my face. I'm a happy man. My attention is drawn to my sister. She's filling a syringe with some kind of drug. She comes to the side of the bed and shows it to me. As I struggle to break free she says "I could tell you the correct name for this but mostly it's known as the "date rape drug", you will know everything that's happening but you wont be able to stop it." Then with a laugh she added, "And, oh yea, it won't keep you from feeling the pain either!" I watched in the mirror as she stabbed my ass with the needle. I've never seen her look happier. Within moments I could feel the effects. Reality seemed a dream. I heard a laugh and looked around. Candie, my wife and my sister were all dressed in bras, panties and stockings and now they were all sporting a huge strap-on. I was in terror as they started to lube up from a big pump bottle of lotion. I looked on in horror as I saw my wife step up behind me. I felt her fingers enter me as she lubed and stretched my ass hole. Candie leaned down and removed my gag. I started to gurgle trying to plead with her. "Candie please" I slurred. I was crying. "It's Candice!" she said and slapped me across the face. "God! I hated that name!" "You fat pig!" "All those times you touched me! Made me do disgusting things, took credit for my work!" "Fucked me in the ass!" "God I hated you!" "Well I've got you now!" "I showed your wife what you've been doing and now you're going to pay!" "You are lucky to get the lube, I wanted to fuck you dry!" She put the gag back in my mouth and nodded. In one brutal shove my sweet wife of over twenty years shoved twelve inches of black latex up my screaming ass hole! Agony can't describe it. I passed out from the pain but it didn't save me. I came to with my sister splashing cold water over me. I heard my wife ask "How do you like anal sex now sweetie? Is it all you hoped for? You cheating bastard!" "I spent the best years of my life doing almost anything you wanted and now I find out you have been cheating on me the whole time! Well you're going to pay, you fat pig! You're going to pay with your ass!" The whole time she was ramming her huge cock in and out of my tortured ass hole. In the back ground I could hear Candie and Sis egging her on. My agony continued for hours. Each taking turns brutalizing my ass. The three people in the world who hated me the most had me completely at their mercy and they had none. Each time I passed out I was revived. On and on it went. Once I was awakened by a warm stream of urine in my face. My sister again. I was spit on, slapped in the face with rubber cocks, my ass whipped raw with a belt. Any degrading thing they could think of. In the end I don't think they thought it was enough. I must have been out for some time. When I came to my ass was on fire both inside and out and the gag had been removed. The video tape had been started over and, just before she left, my wife dialed 911 and placed the receiver near my head. I could hear the operator asking about my emergency. Finally the manager let the cops in the door. Guns drawn, the one male and one female officer quickly evaluated the threat and called the rescue squad. Before long there was a whole crowd of people milling about. At least half of them were female. I could hear the woman cop telling the rescue squad about the tape they had found. I was pleading for them to remove whatever it was that was shoved up my ass or at least untie me but other than smirks from the men and chuckles from the women, all they did was ask questions. I wasn't about to tell them anything. I heard one of the rescue squad whistle and say that it looked like a bottle was stuck up my ass with just the pump sticking out and that they would have to leave it in until they got me to the hospital. After an agonizing ambulance ride a doctor removed the bottle and found the "damnedest thing", a pair of gold wedding bands shoved up my ass ahead of the bottle. Oh yea, the assisting nurse? My sister! Hell Hath No Fury Chapter 1 When I was growing up I liked to write stories. My favorites were the dirty ones. I could act out sexual fantasies on paper that I was prohibited to by my religion. God didn't approved of this behavior, I knew, and I was certain my parents would have been shocked and disappointed if they had caught me. But biology trumped my good intentions. As I had no friends interested in being with me sexually, I had to find other outlets for my feelings. When I began puberty we had no internet, I had no friends whose parents left porn lying around, and my artistic skills, as adequate as they were, were pretty useless without models. I had sex the first time when I was sixteen. I met a girl in high school named Raquel who had some previous experience. And despite what my parents hoped for from girls educated in a religious institution, Raquel was more than willing to take part in my sex education. My parents had bought me a car. Dad wanted me to get used to working. If I was going to have to have a car, I was going to help pay its expenses. I barely made enough money at my job to afford gas, but I didn't care about the pay. I just wanted to be with Raquel. I'm not going to describe in detail the things we did as the law won't permit me to in a story like this. I can say that we dated until we were nineteen, and as young adults we did everything a couple could do in a car, at least within the bounds of our limited imaginations. When I started college Raquel and I broke up. We'd had a rough relationship. We argued a lot. Premarital sex was a temptation in my religion. And as much as I liked it, I wanted to be good, I wanted to be good like my father was good. I wanted to obey the scriptures. When the end came I wanted to enter heaven. But more often than not my desire for Raquel overrode my desire for eternal life. Of course this was during our sexual encounters. After sex, even before my orgasm was finished, the severity of what I'd done would set in. I was trading a few seconds of ecstasy for an eternity of damnation. I was angry with myself, and that anger spilled out onto Raquel. We were both fighting this urge to have sex, and I blamed her for giving in just as much as I blamed myself. When I left her I wanted to believe that she was just a bitch and that I just couldn't stand her anymore, but that wasn't the case. The truth was my sexuality wasn't as simple as I wanted to believe it was. The stories I had written were a testament to my issues. A part of me wanted to be a regular guy. I wanted to be like my father who I imagined kept himself in the missionary position when I heard him ramming my mother upstairs in their bed at night. But I couldn't keep my imagination in line with the morals my parents tried to impose on me. It was after years of sexual exploration that I realized I didn't hate Raquel. I was jealous of her. I was jealous of her because I wanted to be like her. It wasn't that I hated my penis. I didn't despise my manliness. As I got older I got more creative in my fantasy world. I wanted it all. I wanted to feel what sex was like as a woman. I wondered what it would be like to have breasts, to have them fondled, to feel oral sex, and to perform it myself. When I discovered internet porn during college my fantasy playground exploded into a vast universe of possibilities. I began shaving off my body hair like the actors in the porn movies. When my sexual feelings were strong I would wear lingerie under my clothes, wear it when I pleasured myself in my dorm room. I would stay on campus over the weekends when the college emptied out so I could play dress up for days at a time without having to worry about interruptions. I felt guilty. I wanted to please my parents. I guess it's just a biological side effect some of us inherit from childhood. I was so hung up on making them proud. It's why I went to such great lengths to keep this part of my life hidden. I was afraid they would think I was gay, and the God in our church hated gays. There were times I felt so much self-loathing that I would throw away all of my sexual paraphernalia and commit myself back to God. I would attend church, read religious literature daily, and beg God on my knees to help me change. But eventually a lingerie catalogue would arrive in my mailbox, or I would get an email from a sex toy distributor. Sometimes all it took was a nice set of boobs walking by me on the way to class. I would drive to a big box store and load up on panties and dresses, wear out a pack of disposable razors shaving off all of my body hair, and call my parents with some excuse why I had to stay on campus that weekend. I didn't think I was gay. I didn't want to be gay with all of my heart. Of course what I wanted to be defied reason. What I wished the world was like was an impossible fantasy. For me sexuality wasn't as simple as being born LGBT. For me it was a spiritual torture caused by how I learned about sexuality. Mine was a product of guilt, of right and wrong, good and bad, a labelling of certain sexual behaviors as sinful that created a person like me. It created a boy who wanted to have a woman's experience in bed yet wanting to avoid the intimacy with a man that this experience would require. I don't think I can exaggerate just how odd this made me feel. I couldn't imagine kissing a man. I couldn't imagine him hugging me, groping me, penetrating me. I couldn't imagine dating a boy. Even with her anatomy, I didn't have the vocabulary of a girl. If I had spontaneously changed sexes, even if I did so today, I believe I would be a lesbian at best and a slightly odd one. I doubt I could even stomach the idea of sex with a butch female. Denying even the slightest possibility that I was gay left me alone in a fantasy world where all women were stereotypical, model beauties. All people were perfectly sculpted women in these scenarios, the only difference among us being that some women had penises. And of course every one of them wanted to put theirs in me. My self-loathing continued to grow. I was naive. I couldn't bring myself to date other women. What girl wants a boy who fantasizes about being a girl during sex? What female wants to have sex with a boy who dresses himself in lingerie because he likes the way the fabric feels on his freshly shaven skin? No young woman in the church would tolerate that. Still, I couldn't stop playing out these fantasies in my head and acting them out alone in my dorm room on the weekends. The result was an overwhelming guilt. My fantasy world became a place of masochistic sex with penis wielding women. It was a place where I was a bad girl who needed to be punished. I found a new kind of enjoyment in all of this. I imagine it's just as difficult to explain the allure of masochism as it is to explain sexual preference. The best way I know to explain it is that the more I thought of myself in these punishment scenarios the more I wanted it. I got to enjoy the pleasures of sex while suffering the punishment for my behavior at the same time. Chapter 2 I didn't start dating again until after I graduated college. In a fit of spiritual revival I decided to attend a religious school and train to work in the ministry. My desire to make myself as sexually vanilla as my father was so strong at this point in my life that I hadn't masturbated for over six months. I believed that my constant church attendance had given me this newfound self-control. It filled me with such self confidence that I wanted to be at church all of the time. I believed this closeness to God was what had cured me. It had made me worthy of dating, worthy of marriage to a woman. And as a result of my salvation in church, no one would ever have to know about the fantasy world I had lived in before. Sex would be strictly natural in my future. I would be a man, a manly man. I would wait until marriage and use sex to make my wife happy, to give her children that we would raise in accordance to the American dream as God intended. Then my father and mother divorced. A twenty five year marriage was over. Two months later my father was remarried, and I had a stepmother and a stepsister. I was crushed. Divorce was against our belief system. It was the first time that I saw my parents as hypocrites. They had spent years pounding me over the head with scripture, and now they were both sleeping with other people. My faith in God faltered. Again I attribute some of my feelings to that biological connection between children and their parents that some of us inherit from childhood. If mommy and daddy could break the rules then I could too. And I did. Needless to say my religious studies suffered. I even changed my major to a secular one. Granted I still played the church game. School required it. I even performed the school's worship services twice a week. I didn't abandoned my faith right away. No, I was torn, conflicted, confused for years. I tried to reconcile my parent's choices with our faith, but I was on a slippery slope now and no amount of explanation from anyone could save me. When I was in my dorm room in the evenings I would tell my neighbors I was going to bed early. None of them knew that I was still awake, shaving, dressing in women's clothes, surfing internet porn. I returned to my old fantasy world to escape the confusion. After the divorce, ideas that had been too taboo to consider before became fair play. The women in my fantasies began bringing me men, and what had been gross before now became a part of my punishment. With a twisted kind of logic that only a masochist could understand, I had been very naughty and needed to suffer the unthinkable to make amends to God. As I sank deeper into taboo, I found myself falling in love with my stepsister. She was a few years younger than me. She was smart, sexy, and she thought I was funny. I began to believe that we could be together some day. My parents had committed the sin of divorce after all. They had gone even further and remarried new partners. Not only had they divorced, now they were committing adultery too. So what if I wanted to be with my stepsister. It wasn't incest, not real incest. I integrated her into my fantasy world. We became lovers, and I served her willingly doing whatever she asked of me. It made me happy. I loved her. Then I made the mistake of letting her know how I felt about her. At least it felt like a mistake at first. I approached her as purely as I could, simply declaring my love for her. When she rejected me I was so embarrassed, and so was she. She never spoke to me again. I don't suppose I blame her, looking back. I think my fantasy world got the best of me. Something like love between stepsiblings is considered taboo by society after all, even by most atheists. How could I expect her to return that kind of love? How could I expect her to remain my friend after revealing something as strange as that? But it was not all a loss for the masochist in me. My stepsister's role in my fantasy world changed. She became obsessed with punishing me. I became her bitch, and she was as brutal and as cruel in my dreams as she wanted to be. I loved it. Chapter 3 My sexual practices began to broaden. I explored the darker realms. My lingerie went from pieces decorated in flowers and teddy bears to vinyl skirts and fishnets. I bought sex toys that mixed pain with pleasure. My willingness to violate myself overrode my desire to make God happy to the point that I was willing to put myself through the pain of autofellatio. I wanted to let religious life go. I thought I could just move on and accept myself the way I was. But I found quitting self-righteousness just as difficult as stopping my dirty daydreams. I would pleasure myself in the darkest ways I could imagine at night, and the next day lead my peers in worship of a God I no longer understood. Part of me wanted to be punished while the other wanted me to be righteous. Neither wanted to give up. I couldn't just throw God away, I couldn't just throw away the propaganda fed to me by my parents. I couldn't throw that away any more than I could throw away my sexual desires. My religion was too ingrained. My sexuality was a part of who I was. I was being torn in half by my desires. Then I met Dana, the woman who would one day become my wife. Her beauty wasn't in keeping with my ideals. My stepsister was far prettier in comparison. Dana was overweight. Her hair was way too long, like a flower girl from the sixties. She had large breasts, but I could tell they were the kind that sagged even before I saw them outside her bra. Still, I loved her, and she did many things that made me feel that way. She laughed at my jokes. She was willing to help me with whatever project I was doing at school. She listened to me and tried things I suggested. Eventually, she seemed to worship me. She left her boyfriend back home and gave herself to me. We consummated our love many times during our first summer break together. Somehow I managed to ignore my idealistic views of female anatomy. My first girlfriend from high school, Raquel, had a nearly perfect body. Everything about her made it impossible for me to refuse her desires. How I managed to get off with a girl fifty pounds overweight, a girl who had stretch marks on her body from rapid weight gain before ever bearing a child, was my ability to hide inside my fantasy world during sex. What I really wanted was an underwear model, but my imagination made it possible to settle. I thought I was using her back then. I probably was. We started out as friends. I knew she wanted more than that, but my ego told me she was a step down for me. Then I got to know her. When one of my friends told me he was going to ask her out I panicked and declared my love for her. I thought I was being cruel. I thought I was playing with her emotions, but really this was all a denial of the truth. My wish before I ever met Dana, when I was dressing myself in lingerie as an undergrad, was to find what I called an alternative girl. I dreamed of finding a woman who wouldn't flinch when she heard about my sexual fantasies. She was a girl willing to have sex before marriage. She was willing to do everything Raquel and I had done in my car back in high school. She went to church but wasn't married to religion. She just wanted to have me, please me. Dana had all of these things. And the more acceptance she showed me, the more I fell in love with her. I thought I had finally found a woman who would accept me no matter how strange my sexual behaviors were. Dana seemed interested in this at first, but as time passed she began to reveal who she really was. Chapter 4 After dating for years, Dana and I finally married. After college we moved to Virginia. Our wedding was very unconventional. It was an eclectic combination of marriage traditions from all over the world. It symbolized our desire to have a union unbound by the expectations of our former religion. Not that we were out to break the law. We both appreciated society's ideas of common decency, those based on scientific understanding. We just refused to dedicate ourselves to any particular religious voodoo. Before we married I thought it was best to have full disclosure with my fiancé, and I told Dana everything I could about my sexual past. I didn't want her finding out something after we were married that would make her regret her decision. But the idea of saying these things to her face was just too difficult, so I wrote it all down in letters and gave them to her. I worried the truth would repulse her. I didn't want her to feel pressured to accept my history. A part of me even wanted her to leave. I couldn't believe that a woman would stay with a man after reading what I wrote. But she did. I didn't verbalize it at the time, but I was submitting to her. I was giving her written record of my secret fantasies since childhood. I told her of my desires for my stepsister. I told her about my collection of sex toys. I wrote about my obsession with autofellatio and even demonstrated it for her. I was giving her ammunition. I was giving her a written account of my darkest secrets, things I never wanted anyone else to know. I believed I was offering intimacy through full disclosure. I was letting her know that I loved her and would never leave her. Dana didn't appear phased by any of the things I wrote. In fact, she strapped on a few of my sex toys and used them on me to show it didn't bother her. To me this felt like acceptance. She was willing to take part in my fantasies. What I didn't realize at the time was that she was collecting. She saw my intellect, my desire to work, my employer's satisfaction with my skills, and the likelihood of a decent inheritance from my rich father. She saw the money I would make if I applied myself, and she wanted that money for herself. My wife was a gold digger. I wanted to help her. I wanted her to blossom just as much as I wanted to blossom. My belief was that paying into our relationship would bring us both into successful careers, careers where we both contribute. We both had degrees. We both went to work for the same employer. We both started at the same level. But it was our willingness to contribute time and energy to our financial wellbeing where the truth about our relationship started to reveal itself. I didn't realize I was being fooled. I thought I had found a woman who loved me because of, if not in spite of, my sexual interests. Yes, I realized I was damaged. My anger towards religion would burst out from time to time. But I don't believe a man's anger issues about being lied to his entire childhood by his own parents is license for a woman to steal from him. I think she smelled my guilt from the start. She wasn't stupid. She saw my talent when she met me, and this is why she set her sights on my future. I was an investment to her. Eventually I would make something of myself. The higher my income went, the more excuses she found to avoid work. It went from a relationship of cooperation to one where she fed on my labors. She saw my tendency to submit, and it made her salivate. Once she had me in her grasp she would own everything I had, and I would be her workhorse. When she became pregnant with our child she quit her job. Before we married she worked hard on her figure and dropped down to a normal, healthy weight. But when she became pregnant she gained not only her baby weight but another fifty pounds. She was just over five feet tall and weighed over two hundred pounds. I went to all of her to OB/GYN appointments during the pregnancy. Her doctor plead with her to consider what she was doing to her body. I tried to encourage her to watch her eating habits. But she didn't care. Life was about consuming for her. She wanted to stuff herself even though it covered her body in more unsightly stretch marks. Life for Dana was about taking everything that came into contact with her. And she didn't care about the consequences, because I was the one who would pay her consequences for her. We bought a house. It was an old house, a hundred years old. I spent months of my own labor improving it. I even went to work for my father, working outside in construction year around, trying to make our lives better. I would work sixty hours a week and then come home and work on our foundations in the cellar till dark. I would come out covered in sweat and dust and cobwebs, and Dana would be on the couch still in her pajamas from that morning on her phone chatting with her friends. I would restrain myself from saying anything cruel, but it got harder as time went on. When our son was born I took off work to care for him the first two months of his life. I still worked. When he wasn't in my arms I was on my computer practicing my writing. I wanted to be a professional writer. My job in construction took me out of town for months at a time, and I wanted a job where I could be home with my son every day. If I wasn't writing I was holding him as we slept. Hell Hath No Fury Dana spent these first months of our son's life recovering from a planned C-section. Our boy was going to be a big one, and her doctor thought it was best. She recovered from this surgery without incident. However, the consequences of her lifestyle during the pregnancy started showing up. One day when she got up from the couch to get another bowl of popcorn she injured her knee. When she went to her doctor for treatment he told her she was out of shape. She had spent so much time lying around on the couch that her muscles had atrophied. The treatment he recommended was exercise. But this was too much for her. Instead she spent our money, the money I was earning working outside exposed to the elements, to have a chiropractor adjust her once a week. I argued with her. I wanted her to take care of herself. But in the end I always submitted. I had to. I remembered the letters I gave her before we married, the letters describing my sexual secrets. She had photographs of me in lingerie. I had to submit to her, and she knew it. The final blow came when my father sold his company. I lost my job, a good paying one. My income went from nearly a hundred thousand dollars a year to four hundred dollars a week on unemployment. Dana became angry. Her sugar daddy was drying up. I wanted to provide for her and my son, I looked for other jobs in construction, but it was after the war and times had become difficult for everyone. I had seen the end coming many months ahead of time. When I saw that the economy wasn't creating jobs in my field I began to write more than ever. I knew it was long shot, but I doubled my efforts anyway. This was my dream. I had always wanted to be some kind of an artist. I wanted to make superhero comics as a kid. Later that turned into a desire to make fine art. But these dreams are rarely realized by those who dream them. I knew that. I was diving into oblivion, hoping for salvation. Chapter 5 I failed as a writer at first. My first story sucked, I admit it. I had no real experience. I had all of the stories I had written growing up, but most of those were too taboo for most publications. I wanted to be a science fiction writer. I wanted a good reputation for the sake of my family. But there was too much ground to cover for me to make a living at it from the start. It would take time, more time than I had on unemployment. But Dana wasn't patient enough. She wanted insurance for her chiropractic visits and her trips to the message therapist. She liked to eat out regularly. She liked to drive all over the place visiting her friends and acquaintances. She wanted to buy this or that thing for the house, prettying it up to impress her friends. But when she had to go out and get a job to maintain her insurance, to help compensate for her spending, she became angry with me. My unemployment check was more than what she made in her new job. And I wasn't being lazy. I was working around the clock trying to start a writing career. But because I wasn't out there sacrificing my life in the heat and cold to provide her with the cushy lifestyle she expected, I was the dirt bag. We had substantial savings set aside. All I asked was that she be accountable with her spending. But looking at our bank statements is appeared that all she cared about was fast food, messages, and gas money. Then she began to push me away. She began eating large amounts of garlic before bed at night. I understand garlic is good. I love it too. But it seemed she was eating it by the case, because her breath became like death at night. The smell would jolt me awake. It seemed to me that the garlic she ate during the day had fermented in her stomach to the point that at night her breath smelled like a rotting landfill. I complained to her, but she didn't change. I asked her to consider a different diet, but she insisted that garlic and other strong spices were not a part of her problem. She insisted the problem was me. Somehow my senses were distorted. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I was writing all day. I was taking care of our son while she worked. I was cleaning the house, doing the chores. I eventually started a part time job that wasn't in my field of expertise, working third shift for a package company. The pay wasn't great, but it did offer some benefits. It was hard work, and I needed to sleep at night. Woken night after night by the stench of garlic, I became angry with her. I accused her of trying to sabotage me. She accused me of the same. So to keep the peace I decided to sleep in a different room. I promised to visit her in the mornings. I invited her to sleep with me at night whenever she wanted. But she behaved like my move to another room of the house was some kind of abandonment. I loved her deeply. I didn't want to move. I just knew that not getting any sleep at night was bad for my attitude, especially considering the loss of my job. But Dana was offended. Now she was traveling out of state to visit friends. She was performing improvements on our house that we didn't need. She was eating out regularly. It seemed to me she was intentionally spending up our savings to spur me forward, like a farmer whipping an ox tied to the plow. I threatened to leave her if she didn't stop, so she divorced me. When we got our divorce, I warned her it could become ugly, and it did. I tried to give her the house. The interest payment on it was only two hundred dollars per month. I would take the lesser assets from our marriage in exchange. But she wanted me to sell our house. She wanted to tear our dreams to pieces. I asked her to consider our son. I asked her to think of his future, but she wanted to hurt me more than she loved him. She wanted to burn me. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, the saying goes. That's what it felt like in her wake. It felt like I was caught in her tantrum. I wanted my son to be safe, to be happy, to be loved. But I think all she wanted was for me to suffer, to die. I believe she dreamed of my suicide. If I died the half million dollar life insurance policy we took out on me years before would be hers. Then she could pay a man to rub on her every day for the rest of her life. But upon our divorce I immediately canceled the life insurance policy and took out a new one with my bank. I moved in with my brother and began to write. I had my son every other weekend. It was hell for me seeing him so briefly. I had gotten used to seeing him every day when he was four years old. I fed him, bathed him, changed his diapers since he was born. I loved him more than anything, more than I loved life itself. In the end I loved him more than I loved Dana. After the divorce I only saw him every other weekend despite his protests. I loved him more than anything, and she knew it. She hated me because I wouldn't sacrifice myself for her pleasure. She hated me so much for my failings that she chose to torture me by torturing our son. She didn't love me. It seemed to me she never loved me. She only saw me as an opportunity. I was a big fish and she was a leech. She saw me as a slave. She believed that because she knew the details of my sexual past that she owned me. She assumed that with time I would go back to working in the field of construction where I had made so much money. That's all that was important to Dana now. She assumed that my income would return to what it was before and then she could sue me for child support. Once my money was flowing into her accounts she could return to the life of leisure she had enjoyed before. But I had other ideas. There was something inside me that refused to be drawn into this life of subservience. There was someone telling me to kick off Dana's manipulations. Maybe it was God, the real God that rules this universe, and maybe it wasn't. Maybe this someone was a secret part of me. If I'm a pervert, I can accept it. I'm sorry if you think I'm sick. I imagine some people who read this will imagine me burning in hell forever. But I was more than happy to do what did. I would gladly burn in hell to get my son back. Of course, I couldn't kill Dana. That would make me a murderer. Most likely it would put me in an institution if not on death row. Besides, if I took her life, the life of my son's mother, I believe it would have changed something inside me irreparably. I feared it might take away my ability to love. Besides, she was his mother, and I wouldn't want him living his life knowing that his father killed her. I wanted him to know her. I wanted him to grow up and see her for what she was. I didn't want her to be a mystery to him. I would rather he learn to hate her than never know her. I would never impose the sexual confusion I've experience in my life on anyone else. It's hurt me so much. I've lost so much. I would never impose this on my son. I would never let him know where I've been in my life if I could. I would want to save him from this. But this type of blackmail Dana was using to control me was too difficult to escape legally. If you want to judge me, I don't care. I loved him so much. And that someone inside me loved him too, and they were furious. This person showed me the way. Chapter 6 I begged Dana to forgive me. I promised her I would be good. I begged her to overlook the angry things I said. I offered her everything I owned. I had nothing else. But she didn't answer. She didn't speak to me anymore. Her response came in the form of a call to my lawyer. She was taking away my visitation rights. I submitted to this, though my lawyer insisted that I fight her. But he didn't know about the blackmail. He didn't know about the letters and photographs that she would use to embarrass me if I didn't submit. It took me some time to understand what was happening. It was months later, and many nasty one-way emails, before I realized this was a game of control. This wasn't about communication anymore. This was nuclear war. Dana wanted to destroy me in our son's eyes. Not being allowed to be with him, he would see me as weak, as a failure. Her parents had divorced when she was a child, and she wanted to throw me into the same bonfire her mother threw her father. Dana wanted me labeled the same as her mother labeled him: the asshole. If she couldn't get a life insurance payment out of my suicide, she would whip me into working a more lucrative job. If I wanted to spend time with my son, perhaps I could, but only if I performed for her. What these bitches didn't understand was that I was not the typical man. There was someone living inside of me, a woman, I came to understand. This woman loved me, and wanted what was best for me and my child. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. This cunt, Dana, felt she could rest easy in her manipulation of me. She knew all I wanted was to hold my son again. I just wanted to love him. I just wanted him to know I loved him. Fuck her. Fuck her to hell, was my conclusion, and fuck anyone who supported her. Fuck my mother and my father and my sisters who thought Dana was a good mother. I would destroy her self-righteousness. All Dana wanted was money and control. And if I didn't give it to her she would fill my son's head with her lies. Well, fuck her and her lies, even if it meant fucking me. Chapter 7 The Plan Science fiction writing wasn't panning out for me. After five months I wasn't even covering my costs. My savings were running out. I was going broke. My credit card debt was mounting. I felt powerless. My son was drifting further and further away from me. I needed to make a living to be with him. I asked my family for help, but they told me I should get a real job. I could have gone back to loading boxes in delivery trucks, but I was willing to aim much higher than that. I was willing to get down on my knees and do whatever it took. Fortunately, getting on my knees wasn't necessary. Reviewing my dismal book sales one day that familiar advice writers receive came to me. Write what you know. I'd heard it many times while working on my writing. Now it occurred to me that maybe all of these perverse fantasies I'd imagined over the years was "what I knew." I knew a bit about science, but I knew a lot about sexual fantasies, mine at least. I'd had a lot of practice creating these stories in my head. Mine seemed a little more unique than what you typically find on porn sites. They were dark. They were taboo. The idea of publishing them had occurred to me before, but the risk of my family seeing them, finding out about my dirty daydreams, was too great a risk. But I didn't care anymore. What if they were valuable? What if there were others out there less creative than me, but in my same shoes, who would enjoy reading these things I invented? But then my idea went further than just making money for child support. I missed my son, and I wanted to be with him. I missed my son more than I missed my self-respect, and I found myself willing to give up all of my pride and risk everything to make it happen. Simply revealing my sexuality to my friends and family wouldn't be enough. In fact, most of them would probably side with Dana if I told them the truth. No, I had to combat the blackmail. I had to let the whole world see all of the details of Dana's control over me. At least I had to threaten her with it. My plan started with writing erotica short stories. I took a pen name to protect my identity, but I used different names for the characters. But I based my short stories on my life with her, stories with plots that detailed our sexual encounters, how she used my feelings of uniqueness to control and manipulate me. Erotica is a lot more popular than reviews and ratings on Amazon.com will lead you to believe. Most people who buy it don't leave reviews for their friends, family and coworkers to find. The darker themes, the taboo, are even less represented in the area of reader feedback. This type of erotica, the type I wrote, is the type people explore only in secrecy. Not that it made me rich at first. My sales weren't spectacular for the first few months. But the more I wrote, the more exposed I became as a writer, the more books I sold. These sales were laying the groundwork for the final step. The last story in the series, this story, was the final step in my plan. It wouldn't be in the erotica section of the bookstore. It would be in a more socially acceptable place where people wouldn't be afraid to give ratings and write reviews. It would detail the truth, expose the blackmail, and be popular enough create the sales I needed to bring me and my son back together. Chapter 8 I met Dana in the park where we used to meet to exchange our son on the weekends. I chose the location because I knew she would feel safe there. We would be surrounded by parents and their playing children. "So you were able to cash the check my lawyer sent you?" I asked. "Yes. I take it you got a better job," she replied. "My lawyer wants to sit down and discuss changes in your child support payments." "I'm sure she does," I said. "And I would like to discuss a change in our custody situation." "I'm afraid that option isn't on the table," she replied. "Are we done here?" She got up to leave, but stopped when I laid a book on the table. "Have you read this?" I asked. Dana read erotic fiction from time to time. "I've heard about it," she said. "It's sold really well. She's a lucky lady." "Did you know that you know her?" I asked. "And yes, it has sold really well." "No, I don't know her." "It's a pen name," I said. "I've read it a number of times too. I've read all of her work. They're all pretty much your basic smut. But there's something I think you'll find familiar if you read them." "I don't have time to read them right now." "Well, you don't have to put yourself through that, right now. Let me just give you the highlights." "I really don't have time for this," she said and got up to leave. "The main character in every one of her stories is named Dana. And her love life reads an awful lot like yours. So many familiar details. And the stories make her out to be a pretty cruel individual. I think if you reviewed them you would agree." "Well, if this person does know me, and I find out who they are, I will make sure to sue them." "Oh I wouldn't expect anything less from you. But if you did sue her, wouldn't that incriminate you? I mean, as long as she hasn't used your last name, as long as she's using a pseudonym, no one will know. But if the truth did come out, your good name would be smeared everywhere. The news would get to your son someday. This is the age of the internet after all, and with eBooks porn like hers is pirated all over the world. Trust me, I've looked. You wouldn't want your mother reading these things." I could see it in her eyes. She was drifting away in her imagination, realizing what I'd done. "I'm calling my lawyer." "I wouldn't do that until you hear everything I have to say. You won't have this opportunity again." "Are you blackmailing me?" she asked. "I've been doing a lot of soul searching ever since you did this to me, and I've figured out that there's more than one personality living inside my body. I'm a boy obviously, and the boy inside of me wants to be a man. He wants to be like his father. He wants to make his mother proud. But then there's this woman too, and she's feminine. She wants things that women want." "I have all of this on record," she said. "You told me all of this years ago in your letters, the ones I guess you wish you had never written now." She didn't go any further than that. This blackmail, her type of blackmail, depended on denying its presence. I smiled. "You can't come right out and say it, can you? If you admitted what you were doing the game would be over." "You can't come out and say it either," she replied. "I guess that's what you're doing here, right?" "Oh, I'll come right out and say it. In fact I already have." I pointed to the book on the table. "It says it all pretty clearly right there. This one isn't smut like the others she wrote. It's biographical except that it's sold as fiction. But it pretty much outlines exactly how I'm going to get out from under you and get my son back. It spells out every detail of how you've been blackmailing me. Some of the details are missing. I had to simplify things for the sake of brevity. And it might make me out to be a better person than I really am. But Dana is the main character of interest in it for you. And a discerning reader, if they knew I was the author, could easily verify that the information inside refers to me and you." "So that's it? You're going down, and you're going to take me with you? What about our son." It was typical of Dana to redirect our conversations away from issues of her responsibility. "I have a better idea," I said. "It's in the book actually. I imagined our conversation would go this way. What I suggest in the book is that you could quit your job. You don't need to discuss this conversation with your lawyer or with anyone for that matter. The fewer who know, the less likely it is to slip out. I suggest that you take these checks I'm sending you every month and consider it child support. Your income will be more than what I made working for my father. I created an offshore fund in our son's name that will pay out to you every month until he turns eighteen. At which point he will gradually get paid more over the years and you less until you each receive half. You will continue receiving these payments for the rest of your life. "You will give me back custody of our son. You can remain primary custodian, and he can still live with you if you both want. You can put him in whatever school you wish, give him whatever care you think is best. You can have him on the holidays, take him to Disney World, take him to visit your family and friends. But if you fuck with the custody of my son once, try keeping him away from me once, my lawyer will take my real name public. The offshore fund will stop making payments, these child support payments that are much larger than what the law would require of me. You might have to go out and get a job. But everyone will know it's you in my books. Your reputation will be destroyed (and so will mine.) And you may sue me for every penny I have, if the law can get to the hidden accounts I've used overseas. And I may spend the rest of my life in jail as a result, but so will you. Your life will become a living hell. Your reputation will proceed you. You won't be able to hide. No one will trust you, not even your son." Hell Hath No Fury "You would do this to your child?" she asked. I pointed to my pen name on the book. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," I said. "What would you do in her shoes? Would you behave any differently? Or we could go at it another way. We could become a happily divorced couple. We could tell our son we love each other, and that we both love him. I'll say good things about you, compliment you when you're not around, and you'll do the same for me. We can tell him that we tried to work things out, but we just had issues. We'll hug, we'll even kiss when we exchange him. We'll sit together at his school plays. We'll exchange cards at Christmas. I'll congratulate you when you introduce your new lovers to me." "And what if somebody finds out? What if the truth gets out some other way?" "As long as you follow the rules I'll tell them that the idea for the book came from you. Which in a way is true, isn't it? You were just trying to help me make it as a writer. I was going through a nervous breakdown. I exaggerated the details of our life to sell a story. I write fiction. And if you and I corroborate on our story no one will know for certain. We'll laugh about it if our friends and family find out. It might still hurt a little, but if I recall, you like seeing me in pain." THE END Hell Hath No Fury Ted Franklin was a guy who had it all. In high school he was popular with the girls. He was taller than anyone else in his class. He had a dark complexion and raven colored hair. His eyes were as dark as coal. He had a perfect smile with dazzling white teeth. His hair had just enough curl in it so that could be worn in a casual, tossed look. He looked just as good after an hour in the wind as he did when he showed up for school. Throughout high school he had dated Becky Thatcher. Becky could have easily been a spoiled brat. He father had inherited a small tool and die business and had built it into the largest manufacturing company in Watahoochee County. Becky was cute even before she was beautiful. She was tall, slender, and blonde, and she had developed through the years into a beautiful teenager when she caught Ted's eye. They started dating in the ninth grade. Ted seemed to have it all. In addition to his natural looks, he also had tremendous athletic ability. In spite of his tall frame, he was quick on his feet, fast, and smart. He also had one of the best throwing arms the coach had ever seen. By his sophomore year, he had played starting quarterback. At the end of Ted's junior year, all of Watahoochee County was talking state championship the next year. Then tragedy struck. Ted's mother died during the summer. Ted's father owned a small farm and struggled each year just to have enough crop and livestock to pay all the annual debts and get the farm a little closer to being paid off. Without his wife to help, it looked like Ted would have to work on the farm instead of playing football. Becky's father, Nat Thatcher, rode out to see Ted's father. The next day Ted went to work at the factory, just summer work, a few hours after practice, no work on game days, and half a day on Saturday. The pay was worked out so that Ted's father was able to give Ted some spending money and to hire a worker full time. Football is almost a legend in the South, and no one questioned or even mentioned the unlikely relationship. The team did indeed win the state championship, and Ted got a full scholarship to the state university. He was to have had the starting position on the university team in his junior year, but a freak knee accident during spring practice ended Ted's career. He came home to find Becky still waiting for him and to find that local pride and Mr. Thatcher's good favor secured him a good paying job. Ted became the sales representative for Watacoochee Tool and Die, which was now called Thatcher Manufacturing. With Mr. Thatcher's ability to run his company, and with Ted's ability to charm and to sell, the business continued to grow. Somehow, Ted had gotten in with a government bid coordinator, and Thatcher Manufacturing seemed always to have two or three government projects under way, all of which payed extremely well. He and Becky were married within the year. Becky knew that Ted, while at the university, had enjoyed flings with several girls on campus, and even some of the local girls at the state capital where the university was located. She had waited for Ted, seeing him on every trip home, but during that time he had treated her almost as a pit stop in his busy life. She was sure that things would be different now that they had married. During the first year, Becky and Ted spent a lot of time together and went on trips together. Becky was the happiest she had ever been. By the end of the first year, however, things began to change. Ted mad more and more trips out of town, saying that he needed to do more selling. Although Becky had gnawing doubts about his truthfulness, she had no proof that he was lying, and the sales continued to soar. Still her frustration grew month by month. Then Becky's father died, and Becky was devastated. Ted took over the Thatcher business and ran it well, but his time at home was less and less. Becky began to hear rumors about Ted and his out of town trips. Then she began to hear things about him and workers at the company. She noticed that some of her female friends either very obviously changed the topic or else became strangely silent when she came into the room. Although Becky loved Ted, he always assured her that people spread rumors because of jealousy. And it was true, the company continued to grow, and Ted had decided that Thatcher Manufacturing was no longer prestigious enough and, as CEO, had changed the name to Trident Industries Southeast. It was an easy change. Although the company had gone public, Mr. Thatcher had reserved 60% of the stock so as to maintain both control and the 60% quorum necessary under the company's charter. After one of Ted's frequent trips, Becky was removing the soiled laundry from Ted's suitcase and found a bra too small to have been hers. She remained silent. Over the next year, she found other incriminating signs of Ted's infidelity. They ranged from lipstick on his shirt and shorts to an occasional bra or panties mixed in with Ted's laundry. Becky challenged Ted on the various items, but he always presented some excuse that would not have sounded plausible to most women, but Becky wasn't most women. In spite of Ted's philandering, she still loved him and thought that he would eventually be the husband he had promised to be. Marriage was not what Becky had imagined. They had moved into her father's huge home with all its grandeur and elaborate furnishings. They were members of the country club. Once a year, they went on a fabulous vacation to some exotic location, but except for that one annual vacation, Becky's life had become a nightmare. On a typical night, Ted would come home, and the maid would serve dinner. Although the dining table would seat twelve, she and Ted sat alone. Ted had not yet decided he wanted children, and Becky was wondering if he ever would. Becky beside him at a table for twelve, Ted would consume his food, talking only when a question was asked. Then he would go watch television while Becky got ready for bed. It didn't matter what Becky wore to try to make herself more appealing, the bedroom routine was the same. Ted always came upstairs whenever he was ready. He showered and came to bed nude. Sometimes he would just go to sleep. When he didn't, he would reach over and kiss Becky lightly, usually only once. His breath smelled of scotch, and Becky endured the smell. Then with no further foreplay or tenderness, he would rise up and pull Becky's panties down and raise her legs. If she was not adequately lubricated, he would frequently mutter "You're not getting old and menopausal on me, are you?" Those words hurt Becky deeply. She was only 28, but Ted's tenderness had faded years ago, and when he did speak, it seemed that he only did so to control. Ted would make a quick and painful insertion, and with the influence of alcohol, took a long time to finish. Becky would close her eyes, forgetting the inflammation that intercourse with Ted often caused her, and she would remember those early years when he was passionate. She would picture Ted as the young man just returned from the university who told her constantly that he loved her. Then Ted would grunt and roll off of her, going to sleep immediately. Becky had learned long ago not to try to touch him or talk to him afterward. If she did, he would become angry and would go to another bedroom to sleep. She lay in the darkness, feeling the burning of he vagina where Ted had been so rough. Softly, she would exit the bed and go to the bathroom where often she would cry for hours before returning to bed. Yet, through all this, Becky never stopped loving Ted or believing that he would come around some day. The only sign she ever showed was when she talked to her friend Yvonne. Yvonne was a mirror opposite of Becky. She was shorter and had straight dark hair. Although Becky sported a very attractive figure, Yvonne had undergone surgery for breast enhancement and always showed a lot of cleavage. Her husband, Frank, was an accountant who had eventually opened his own firm. She had been Becky's best friend since high school. Whenever Becky reached a breaking point, she would call Yvonne, and the two would get together. She would pour out her heart to Yvonne, and Yvonne would console her and assure her that Ted was just going through a phase. On Ted's 30th birthday, Becky decided to surprise him by dropping by the company office and taking him to lunch. They had a big birthday bash planned at the country club, but Becky wanted some intimate and personal time with the man that she loved. The office always seemed strange to Becky. Her father had placed his desk where he could look out over the plant and see everything that was going on. Ted had remodeled, and his office was insulated behind two outer offices. Becky walked through the two outer offices to find Ted's secretary away from her desk. Becky had heard rumors about Ted and the secretary, but Ted always managed to convince her that the rumors were unfounded. Since there was no secretary, Becky decided to announce herself. As Becky entered the office, Ted was seated on the side of his desk. The secretary, Ann, was kneeling on the floor in front of Ted. She was nude from the waist up and had Ted's penis in her mouth. Ted's climax was just starting, and in spite of the interruption, his first spurt went into Ann's mouth. Ann pulled back in shock with her mouth open. Had it not been so hurtful, it would have been comical. Ann's eyes and mouth both opened wide in surprise. As her mouth opened, Ted's second spurt went right into her eye while the first spurt ran out of her mouth and onto her chin. As she bent down to grab her blouse and bra, Ted shot a third spurt into her hair. Crying and saying softly, "Oh, God, Oh, God," Ann staggered to her feet and ran with her clothes in one hand and her other attempting to cover her breast as they bounced with her quick paces. Ted casually picked up his pants that were beside him on the desk and retrieved a handkerchief. He casually wiped his penis of any remaining cum, refolded the handkerchief, and put it back into his pocket. Only then did he get off the desk, step into his shorts, and pull his pants up. His first words to Becky were, "Now, you're not going to get upset over Ann wanting to give me a little birthday present, are you?" Becky stormed out, more shocked than hurt...at least until the shock wore off. It as weeks before she was able to be around Ted without having to deal with the trauma the scene with Ann had caused. Ted assured Becky that he knew it was inappropriate and that he was letting Ann go. Becky and Yvonne had numerous crying "girl talks" over that episode, and Yvonne kept assuring Becky that Ted was just doing what any man would do. She told Becky that everyone knew that Ann was just a slut and that she meant nothing to Ted. It was roughly a year after the incident with Ann that Becky decided to fly to Oklahoma to attend a cousin's graduation. It was near the end of May. Becky booked her flight and loaded up her suitcases. She was going to drive to the state capital, about an hour away, and fly to Oklahoma City. She was leaving on Tuesday and was returning on Thursday. Halfway to the airport, the radio station broke for news and reported a system of tornados in Oklahoma. Becky picked up her cell phone and called the airline. The flight out of the capital was okay, but Oklahoma City had closed its airport due to the weather. Becky knew that she would be spending the night at the airport, so she turned around and drove back. An hour after she left, Becky turned into her driveway. She pressed the remote and opened the garage door. She was surprised to see Yvonne's car parked in her space. Becky shut off the motor and walked through the garage into the house. The lights were on in the living room, but no one was there. The kitchen was the same. Suddenly, a deep suspicion flavored with fear swept over Becky. She quietly climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. The hall lights were dark, but the bedroom door was ajar, and there was light. Quietly, Becky approached to doorway. Had she been able to breathe, she would have gasped loudly enough to have been noticed, but her breath froze within her. There was Ted, lying naked and on his back. Yvonne was straddling him with her pussy atop his penis. Something in Becky clicked, and instead of rushing in, she grabbed her phone and activated the video. Yvonne slowly raised herself into the air and maneuvered Ted's erect penis into her vagina. Slowly, Yvonne worked up and down, lubricating Ted as she went up and down, going deeper each time until Ted was fully inserted. She reached out her hands toward Ted, and their palms met; then their fingers enfolded. She worked back and forth, not only stimulating Ted but also giving herself a good G-spot massage in the process. Ted broke the hand clasping to rub Yvonne's breasts. Becky was thinking, "That bastard! He never does anything with me but the missionary position!" The Ted called out, "Come on! You're killing me. Fuck my brains out like you did last time." Yvonne laughed and raised herself up until Ted's penis was almost out. Then she thrust back down forcefully. She repeated that action several times. Then she began shouting, "Oh," repeatedly and more forcefully. As she did, the up and down movement stopped, and she began thrusting her hips forward and back in a frenzied move toward orgasm. Finally, Ted gave out a shout and grabbed Yvonne's hips, pulling her pussy around his penis and making the greatest penetration possible as he came. Becky watched as Yvonne collapsed on the bed she and Ted shared. Ted then rose up and put his mouth on Yvonne's pussy and began to lick her. "The bastard," Becky thought. "He hasn't gone down on me since the honeymoon." Becky turned away from the door and slipped out of the house as quietly as she had entered. She got into her car and closed the garage door and drove back to the capital. When she got there, she called Ted and said, "Hi honey. My flight's been cancelled, so I'm just going to stay here tonight at the Mariott. I'll do some shopping tomorrow and will be home tomorrow night. Are you okay?" Ted said, "Yeah, I got a burger downtown, came straight home, and fell asleep in the recliner. I just came upstairs and am going to bed now." Through the phone, Becky heard a commode flush in the background but said nothing. The next day, Becky bought some items that she wouldn't have been able to find in Watacoochee County. She also had her cell phone video transferred to a jump drive. Then she drove back home. When Ted got home, she told him that she was sick so that he wouldn't come upstairs reeking of scotch and start pulling her panties off. They weren't coming off again, at least not for him. During the day Friday, Becky made some other preparations, and then welcomed Ted home. They had dinner as usual. Then Becky asked Ted if he ever watched any porn. He lied and said no. She knew it was a lie because she had seen receipts from stores where he had bought DVD's. Becky said, "Well, I've got one you're going to love. This is going to be a night to remember." Ted could not imagine what was about to happen. Becky had dressed in sexy outfits before, but she had never done anything kinky or even what could be called risqué. She had just been a loving wife who wanted to please her husband. Ted settled down in front of the TV while Becky switched the electronics to make the TV serve as a monitor. Suddenly, the picture of Yvonne riding Ted's dick flashed on the screen, and the action began. Ted was speechless momentarily. When he began to try to talk his way out of the evidence, the new Becky lowered the Boom. "Teddy, boy," she began. She had never called him Teddy, much less Teddy boy. The shock of her words were more chilling that the video which was still playing with the sound muted. "I've put up with your philandering for years. I've seen you getting a blowjob. But to bring some slut of a bitch into our bed, and that it was my best friend! I don't know how long you two have been screwing behind my back, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that things have changed. Not that they are going to change. They have already changed." "The 60% stockholders vote that you've had through all these years was only a proxy authority. Daddy left me that 60% of the company, and he left me this house. I've taken all the money out of our checking accounts and savings accounts. I've also cancelled all the credit cards that have both names on them." "I went today and revoked the proxy authority you've been using all these years with the company. As of now, you have nothing but your job. And if you want to keep that, you will do what I tell you to do. I've planned a dinner party tomorrow night, and you will be here or be fired." With those words, Becky pulled the copy of the video from the jump drive and handed it to Ted. "Here, enjoy yourself with this. I've got the original and several other copies, so you can have this one. I'm going to bed, and you are welcome to sleep in one of the other guest rooms, on the couch, or at a motel with another of your slut whores." Ted had never heard Becky use words like that. She had always conducted herself as if she was attending a church social at the First Baptist Church. Becky went upstairs and for the first time since she married, locked the door. The next night was Saturday. Everyone invited was told to come for dinner but also to bring a swimsuit for a pool party afterward. Becky invited Frank, Yvonne's husband and three men from the company who strongly suspected that Ted had been involved with their wives. She also invited the one person from her high school days who was a serious challenge to Ted's interest in Becky. Ted was unusually quiet during the dinner. When the dinner was finished, the maid cleared the table and was told to go home and not come in until Monday. Then everyone was asked to go change into their swimsuits but to return to the dining room. They all complied, but Becky came in wearing a silky black gown, diamond earrings, and towering fuck me heels. Everyone stared. Ted was startled. Becky asked the men to help her move the huge dining table to one side and to put all the chairs along one wall. As they moved the table, Becky went to the folding doors behind where the table would be and opened the folding doors that hid a large screen TV. She then had them push the table completely against the wall and to put the chairs so that they could see the TV clearly. Ted, however, was seated off to the side and sat at the end of the relocated dining table. Becky began, "I'm going to show you something very private and very personal. You will know the two people in it, and the woman's husband is here tonight, but I had him come early. He knows what you're about to see, and he's okay with it." "For God's sake, Becky," Ted blurted out. "Shut up, Ted," Becky replied, standing up to Ted for the first time in her life. "Shut up if you want a job Monday. If you had been concerned about God, you would have kept your zipper closed and your dick out of whores!" She could not believe the surge of power she felt. It was intoxicating. With that, Becky pressed the remote, and the TV began to play the sex scene with Ted and Yvonne. The men all looked with shock and amazement, first at the screen, then at Frank, whose wife they all knew, then at Ted. Of course, they couldn't avoid looking back at Yvonne's bouncing breasts and firm ass. They were amazed at her prowess, and Becky could see bulges beginning to show in their pants. That was exactly what she wanted. When the video stopped, Becky announced, "Tonight, I'm going to get my revenge on Ted. But it's not just for what you just saw: my husband and my best friend screwing each other's brains out in my bed. It's for all the times Ted has cheated on me and gotten away with it because I was too timid and too much in love to confront him." Hell Hath No Fury "And be assured, those of you who work for the company, whatever happens tonight will not affect your job status. Ted does not control the company, I do. And anything Ted does to you, I will undo or Ted will be fired. Ted has to watch my revenge and yours, and he is powerless to retaliate if he wants to keep his job." With that, Becky flipped a switch on the remote, and the song, "Let Me Entertain You" began to play. Becky began to strut in front of the men with the most seductive dance Ted had ever seen. She swayed, she thrust her hips, she did bumps and grinds, and every man in the room, except Ted began to get more aroused. Then the song changed to the stripper theme from the movie Gypsy. As it played, Becky turned her back to the men and reached around behind her dress. As her hips swayed, she slowly tortured the men by slowly unzipping her dress until the zipper came halfway down her buttocks. She then turned and strutted up and down in front of the gawking men before returning to her center point. She then slipped the dress off her right shoulder as she looked over the same shoulder and smiled. Then she did the same with the left shoulder. Then Becky let the dress fall to her hips, and with one quick move, she pushed it to the floor. She stepped out of the dress and kicked it away. Then she turned toward the men. She put her hands over her head and put palm to palm. She swayed her hips and her hand in sync, giving the men ample time to enjoy the show. She was wearing the tiniest black bra, very stylish, and with portions of it being of a sheer black fabric. Only the nipples were completely hidden. The music changed, and Becky turned around with her back to the men again. As her hips swayed, she reached back and unhooked the tiny bra. She turned around with the bra held up by her right hand. At this point, all of the men except Ted were worried that Becky was teasing, and they would not get to see her breasts. Ted, as one might expect, was hoping they wouldn't. Becky was enjoying herself. She toyed with the men, lowering one side of her bra just to the areola and then pulling it back up. Then she would do the same with the other side. Her sense of power built with each moment. Suddenly, Becky dropped the bra to the floor and raised her hands over her head, palms down and fingers pointing outward. There was an audible sound as every man inhaled simultaneously. Becky had selected her attire well. In addition to the black bra, she had bought matching thigh-top hose and panties. The hose had a top that was black with tiny gray hearts and tiny gray ribbons. They were tiny French cut, little more than a g-string. There was a tiny triangle that barely covered her clit and vagina. Between the waist band and the triangle, the fabric was sheer, showing a very close cut strip of hair that was waxed to remove all but the tiny strip generally called a landing strip. The landing strip showing through was another turn on for the men. They were hard, they were staring, and their breathing had become deep and hard. The music then played another old song, "Another One Bites the Dust." With the quicker pace, Becky did some quicker steps, stopping and doing "dirty girl" thrusts inches from the faces of the men. Right down the line, she gave a front row view of her body and made pelvic thrusts in the face of every man. Then the music changed, and Becky again returned to a point that was centered in front of the men. Frank occupied the center chair. To the far right was the man who had repeatedly tried to date Becky in high school. The men who believed Ted had seduced their wives filled the other chairs. Becky then turned her back to the men. She pulled the right side of the panty down to the middle of her buttock, held it there for a moment, and then she pulled it back up. As she did so, she pulled the left side down to the same level. As she kept repeating this tease, she kept looking over her shoulders at the men, smiling and winking. Then she pulled the panties down to the bottom of her butt cheeks. She raised her hands over her head, and pulled her left foot across the front of her other food and crossed her legs. Then she lowered her hands to the floor. The effect of her amazingly firm ass stuck in the air and her crossed legs gave the perfect image of a heart. Becky then uncrossed her legs, steadied herself on the black fuck me heels, and put her thumbs inside her panties on each side. She bent down and slowly pushed the panties to her heels. Becky turned around, and as the music stopped, she kicked the panties away, raised her hands over her head, and spread her feet about a foot apart. She stood there in majestic triumph. The eyes of the men roamed up and down her body. The bulges in their pants grew. Becky turned toward Ted whose fists were clinched and whose face was drawn up tight. She smiled at him and turned back to the admiring men before her. Never before had any man seen her naked, but tonight she had all the power. Not only was she punishing Ted and getting revenge, but she was discovering a part of herself—and a power—that she never knew existed. Then, with no music playing, Becky said, "I want to remind you that nothing that happens her tonight will affect your job, but it may give you a chance to get revenge on Ted, if you're willing to play along," She walked to the center chair and put her left leg between Frank's legs. She raised her right leg and placed her foot on Frank's chair. Her pussy was right in front of his face. She leaned down and unbuckled her right shoe with her breasts rubbing into Frank's face. Frank did not pull back but glanced briefly at Ted whose face was now red. Becky put her foot down long enough to step out of it and then did the same with the left shoe. Then she put her right leg up on Frank's chair again and began to roll down the right thigh-top hose. Slowly and seductively, she removed it, moving her firm breasts into Frank's face again. When she got down to the foot, she asked Frank to remove the hose. He did and handed it to her. She draped it over Frank's left shoulder. Then she removed the left hose, repeating her actions. While Frank got the benefit of helping her strip off the last remaining fabric Becky wore, the other men got a fantastic view of Becky's breasts hanging down like ripe clusters of grapes, just waiting to be picked. Her waist was still slender, and her shapely butt had just enough curve in it to make every man want to squeeze it. Totally naked, Becky took Frank's hands and told him to stand up. When he did, Becky reminded everyone that Ted had used Frank's wife, and that Frank had every right to do whatever he wanted to do to Ted's wife. "In fact, let me show all of you what I caught Ted doing one time in his office." Frank stiffened his body when Becky pinched each side of his swimsuit and pulled it down, letting it drop onto his ankles. She knelt down and took Frank into her mouth. She cupped Franks balls into her hands and rubbed them gently as she finally succeeded in getting all of Franks throbbing manhood into her mouth. She turned to look at Ted whose face was now the face of utter defeat. He had tears in his eyes but sat obediently, as Becky had instructed him. He knew that if he left, he would be jobless Monday morning. Becky then pushed Frank gently back into his seat and removed his swimsuit from his ankles, tossing it into the corner. Then she moved to her left and said, "Bill, you've been sure for a long time that Ted screwed your wife. Would you like to get revenge?" "Damn right," Bill replied. "Then strip," Becky ordered. Bill stood up and dropped his swimsuit. His erect penis stood out. Becky took it in her hand and stroked it a few times. Then she knelt down and took Bill's penis into her mouth, deep throating it as she had with Frank. Becky and Ted had employed oral sex only a couple of times shortly after they were married, and then Ted moved into his have a few drinks, come to bed, kiss once, and then fuck mode. Becky had not really enjoyed giving head with Ted, but tonight she took delight in both serving and performing. The next two workers received the same treatment. Then Becky moved to John, the only man in the room she had not taken into her mouth. "Johnny, you always wanted to date me, but I was stupid enough to hold onto Ted. Would you like a sample of what you missed? Without a word, John stood and removed his swimsuit. Becky kissed his nipples and continued the kisses down his chest and stomach until she came to his penis. She held it gingerly and kissed it a dozen times or more before she put it into her mouth. John let a long sigh mingled with the word, "Oh." It was more like the sound of a passing breeze than an actual word. "Careful," Becky said as she withdrew his eager penis from her mouth. "It's not time for you to come yet." Then she took John and Frank by the hand. She turned to the other men and said, "Come on, guys." The other three got up and followed. Becky led them to the table, and had Frank to lie down on the table with his head toward Ted who was still seated at the end of the table. She then had the other men to get on the table, two on each side of Frank. Becky then sat on the table and turned her legs toward Frank. She spread her legs. She hoped that her vagina was open for the men to see inside her. She had put a dildo inside her that morning and had worn it all day, wanting to loosen the muscles so that she would be open when the men saw her. She had removed the dildo when she changed into her stripping clothes after dinner. She didn't know whether she was open down there or not, but every eye in the room was focused on her womanhood. It had been years since she had been looked at that way. Becky then rose to her knees. She could not believe how comfortable she was with her nudity and her sexuality. She had absolute power over five men and had Ted by the balls. She pushed Frank's legs apart and began to lick his balls before she put her mouth over his aching penis. Then she pulled Frank's legs together and straddled him. "Now let me know, Frank, if I do anything wrong. I want to do everything to you that my best friend Yvonne did to Ted." With those words, Becky straddled Frank and slipped his penis into her wet pussy. She began to mimic the actions Yvonne had done, but she looked at the four naked men beside her. "Come on, guys. Everybody's invited to this party." She reached out, and while she fucked Frank, she took John's penis into her hand and opened her mouth toward Mike's erect penis. Mike immediately slipped his dick between her lips. Her other hand reached out to the nearest penis on the other side, and she began to switch her oral services from one side to another. At every opportunity, Becky looked at Ted. At one point she was tempted to say, "How does it feel, Ted," but she chose to leave Ted out of the orgy she had created. She continued until Frank grunted and thrust his hips upward toward her hungry pussy. She felt his juices hitting forcefully inside her. She rose up and walked to the left of Frank, lying down on the table closer to Ted. As she walked, she could feel Frank's juices starting to run down her leg. Ted looked at his wife and saw another man's cum on her leg. Becky then said, "Okay, does anybody else want to get even? Want a little bit of this? You won't get this chance again. Without a word, Andy got between Becky's legs and thrust his penis into her. Becky lay there with her legs wrapped around Andy's hips, knowing that the position she had take gave Ted a perfect view of his wife's pussy being drilled by another man. Andy continued until he muttered, "Damn!" and shot his hit semen inside Becky's willing body. "Nobody else?" Becky asked. Immediately, her third man of the night came forward. She said, "Okay, come her lover boy," and rose up, repositioning herself so that she was on her hands and knees facing Ted. This time, her breasts rocked with every thrust. She kept looking at Ted as she uttered, "Come on. Give it to me. Ram it deep. Fuck my pussy. Stick it in hard. Oh yeah, I like it deep." The whole time, she was smiling at Ted. Her boobs continued to sway until she was pushed down by a powerful thrust. She lay a foot closer to Ted, her butt being pressed down with every remaining thrust until she was again filled with the passion of another man's cum. The last man to take her was John. For John, she sat on the side of the table and raised her legs into a Y. John made his insertion into the woman he had wanted in high school. Years of buried passion rose inside him, and he rammed her so hard that she knew she would be sore the next day, but she didn't care. Her breasts rocked, her mouth opened slightly, she smiled and looked for the first time at the man who was inside her. She had feelings for John years ago, but she had remained loyal to Ted. Now she was beyond revenge. Now she was responding to a man who had loved her. She wrapped her legs around him. She stopped performing for Ted. She was totally engaged in what was truly love making. She wrapped her legs around John's hips and pushed her pussy forward with each thrust. While her emotions to this point had been revenge and sexual liberation, she now felt passion. When John climaxed inside her, she also climaxed, and in doing so, allowed vocal expression to pass through her lips. When John had drained the juices of his passion, he looked at her face and saw the lips that had engulfed four other men that night. Under any other circumstance, he would have revolted at kissing the lips that had taken other men as she had done that night, but his love for Becky was such that he looked into her eyes and kissed her lips with the most passion she had ever felt in a kiss. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and looked at John. "Becky, the reason I never married was that I could never find someone I loved as much as I loved you." She saw his eyes beginning to mist over. She went down on him where he stood, and in a few minutes, she had him erect again. This time she mounted him, but she didn't look toward Ted. She looked only at the man who had truly loved her through all of the years. The other men who had just fucked her were only a faint memory, although they were watching the union of the two lovers as Becky worked her hips feverishly, bringing John to a second climax. For the first time in her life, Becky screamed as she experienced her own orgasm. Becky's pussy was full of cum from five men, but she could only feel the warmth of John's two ejaculations. She lay down on top of him while his penis began to shrink to its normal size. Then, with John's penis still inside her, she said to Ted, "By the way, Ted, when you go to work on Monday, you won't be president and CEO anymore. You'll have the same salary, but your new title will be sales director. You will be on the road most of the time and can screw any slut you want to. Frank will be taking over as president, and I suppose he will be pretty demanding of you. Oh, and since the house is in my name, you'll need to find somewhere else to live starting tonight. I'm sure one of your whores will accommodate you until you can get a place of your own." "These other men here are men you've humiliated through the years. Tonight, they've got their revenge by screwing your wife right before your eyes, and you didn't have the balls to stop it. So they've had their revenge. It was my pleasure to be their whore tonight, but after tonight, I think I'll be no one's whore but John's." With that she kissed John on the lips with passion. Then, with cum glistening on both of her thighs, she got off the table and walked, still naked and unashamed, to each man, kissing each one on the cheek and saying, "Thanks for being a good sport. This was a one-time thing, but thank you for giving me the night of my life." Then as they went to dress, Becky went to clean herself and to get ready for bed with John. Hell Hath No Fury, But... Hell Hath No Fury, But Heaven Might Dear Gary, I hope you enjoyed the other night even half as much as I did, though I seriously doubt you did. You wouldn't believe this, but when I came over to see you I had all sorts of plans and contingencies to trap you so I could extract my full revenge on you. Oh by the way, you should know I'm now fully avenged and you needn't worry about me ever turning up on your doorstep again, well probably not. Anyway, as I was saying, when I came round to see you I'd brought knock out pills, a bondage movie, some handcuffs and even a knife to threaten you with if all else failed. It was odd you never once asked what I'd brought the shopping bag for or what was in it, I suppose you thought I was going to cook for you or something equally suited to a mere female. If I'd known you'd be so easy to trap, I could have saved myself a lot of time and trouble, though I must say, appealing to your machismo was a master stroke if I do say so myself. When I showed you those velcro cuffs and told you my girlfriend was hoping to use them on her boyfriend, but she didn't know if they'd hold him, the last thing I expected was that you'd laugh and hold out your hands. You really didn't think they'd work did you? If you hadn't been so arrogant you just might have noticed the fact that I was having trouble breathing and my hands were shaking as I secured your hands behind your back. And the look on your face when I took out the scissors and cut your shirt off was priceless. What exactly did you think I intended to do with the scissors anyway? I have to admit that undressing you was one of the most exciting things I've ever done with a man. You can't imagine the feeling of power it gave me, though come to think of it maybe you can, after all I didn't exactly surrender myself to you that night after the party. And how anyone can think that no is another version of yes is beyond me. Anyway where was I? Oh yes, I meant to ask you, perhaps if we ever meet again you can tell me, when I put that bag over your head to blindfold you, did it make you more co-operative or would you have gone along with me anyway. It's just that it all seemed so easy from then on and it might be worth knowing in case I ever have the need (or desire) to do to someone else what I did to you. Of course, it meant sacrificing the pleasure of seeing your face as my plans fell into place, but if it was the reason for your co-operation then it was probably worth the loss. What did you think I was doing when you felt me smoothing the depilatory cream over your body? Obviously you didn't know what it was, but you just stood there in silence while I used it. Okay, I know you had the ball gag in your mouth (that was well worth the money) but you didn't even grunt, don't tell me you were actually enjoying yourself? And the way you just stood there while the cream did it's job. Did you know I was sitting on the toilet seat watching you or had you simply resigned yourself to your fate? I'd be surprised if it was the latter, after all, you had no idea what was in store for you and I doubt you'd have been so docile if you had. Don't you think it was thoughtful of me to use the moisturiser after I washed the cream off? Believe me it would have really been sore if I hadn't. I still laugh when I think about the way I led you into the bedroom. That cock of yours had grown so big and there seemed a certain irony in leading you by it into the bedroom. I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but I doubt painting your toenails and fingernails would have come high on your list. Funny though, I expected you to resist when I stuck those false nails on your hands (by the way it's best if you let them grow out rather than trying to pull them off) but you actually spread your fingers while I worked on them, why? And don't, whatever you do, throw that corset out. Not only did it look great it cost a fortune. I had planned to buy one at a second hand store, but they had nothing worthy of the occasion so I splashed out on that one. It's amazing how much I was able to pull you in, it's hard to believe fabric as delicate as satin and lace can be so strong. I was just a little worried you might not be able to breathe properly by the time I'd finished lacing you into it. In retrospect I'm not entirely convinced that I should have used all black. Possibly a red corset would have contrasted better with the black lace panties, though the black stockings did look great, (you have quite nicely shaped legs you know) particularly with the seams up the back, they somehow made you look sluttier. I suppose you're wondering how I managed to find a pair of stiletto heeled shoes, especially a pair as high as they were, with that chain attached. As a matter of fact I'm proud to say, I attached it myself. The reason I pulled them so tight before I padlocked them onto your ankles was to make it just a little more difficult to take off. And I thought using the hardened steel was a nice touch, it must have taken ages to cut through. Speaking of cutting through things, did you manage to get the ring off your cock and balls, I'll bet cutting that gave you a few nervous minutes, but I must say, it kept you very hard and you do have an impressive cock when it's angry. Tying your feet to the corners of the bed was easy, you didn't seem to mind at all. And didn't it occur to you that stuffing the pillow under your backside was intended to allow easier access to you arse hole, quite frankly I was amazed when you raised yourself up to help me. And I honestly thought you'd put up more of a fight when I released your hands to tie them to the bedposts. Okay so the rope around your neck was tight, and I thought it had been a great idea to tie it above your head, particularly since you couldn't know where it was tied, or did you? But I really thought that was going to be the trickiest part of the whole plan, and it turned out to be the easiest. You know it's the strangest thing but, when I took the hood of and removed the gag, I knew you wouldn't make a sound. You just looked at me, and I must say, you made quite an erotic sight, I really had no intention of doing what I did, but I was feeling so horny and so incredibly powerful I just couldn't help myself. I thought about jumping onto your big cock, but it somehow seemed more forceful to sit on your face without any preamble. Did you know that was what I was going to do when I pulled my knickers off? I have to give you credit though, you certainly know how to eat pussy, it must have taken me all of 10 seconds to orgasm that first time. And you may find this hard to believe, but I've never had 4 orgasms in a row before. In case you were wondering, the reason I was able to do your make up so quickly was because I'd planned exactly what I was going to use for days before. I started with the foundation cream and blusher because I knew how pale your complexion is; you really should get out in the sun more. I have to admit I felt a certain satisfaction as I watched you flinch each time I plucked your eyebrows into shape. Though to give you your due, you still remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. I wasn't sure about the blue eye shadow, but once I'd applied it I could see it was the perfect choice, particularly after I added the eyeliner and thickened your lashes with the mascara, though you already have very thick lashes. I hope you liked the bright red lipstick I chose, I though it looked suitably cheap once I'd added the lip-gloss, in fact once I'd teased and back combed that thick blonde hair of yours, you looked exactly like I'd expect a high class hooker to look. Though obviously she wouldn't have an erection, or be tied to a bed for that matter, unless of course she was well paid. You know, I'd done such a good job on your face it was almost a pity to replace the ball gag, but of course, I couldn't risk you making a noise when the guests arrived, now could I? And judging from the look of horror in your eyes when the doorbell rang, I'm fairly sure you would have made a noise. Since you weren't formally introduced I can tell you now; Marie was your first visitor. I used to work with her at the library and she's the archetypal librarian, you know virgin spinster and all that goes with the territory. Believe it or not, she's actually only about 50 but she looks decidedly older I admit. And yes, she always smells of mothballs. Anyway, I don't know what she did to you for half an hour, (I didn't turn the video camera on for her) but she certainly seemed happy when she left. I'm just pleased to know something good could come out of this unfortunate affair. Anyway, as you saw I set the camera up for the others so I know exactly what happened, I'll show you the video sometime if you ask nicely. Though I doubt you'll want to relive some of that nights action. Mrs. Fairchild came next, as I recall. She used to be my landlady. Don't you think she's disgusting, I mean, she always smells of cheap perfume and cigarettes and I've seen first time transvestites do a better job of their make up. I'm surprised you could keep a straight face as you watched helplessly, while she unlaced that ridiculous girdle she was wearing. And for one awful minute I thought she was going to leave that cigarette in her mouth when she finally started to climb on top of you. I almost felt sorry for you when I watched the video of her, grunting and slavering all over you as she jerked her way to her version of heaven. The best part was when she picked up her smoke straight after the sex, and it was still alight. As you probably worked out for yourself, Ronnie, the one who followed Mrs. Fairchild, is a dyke. She hates men so I was fascinated to see what she had planned for you. You'll be pleased to know I made her promise not to do any permanent damage to you before I let her in, and to her credit she kept her word, though the way she was ramming that dildo into your arse, I thought she might rupture something. Still she seemed to enjoy it even if you didn't. The good news is, the money she paid, together with the money Mrs. Fairchild gave me, more than covered the cost of the corset and Sam's fee. Of course, you didn't know did you? I had to pay Sam to come over, but he was well worth the money. My God I almost died when I saw the size of that cock, it's true what they say about black men after all. At least it was definitely true about Sam, that thing must have been at least 10 inches I can't imagine what it must have felt like to be fucked up the arse with it. I have to tell you though, I didn't know he was going to take your gag off, and I admit to feeling a little sorry for you when he forced you to eat him after where he'd just pulled his cock from. Even though I knew you'd come out of it unscathed, I still got a little nervous as I watched the video in case you tried to bite him. I think you made a wise decision doing as he told you. A man that size could do some serious damage particularly when you're tied to a bed and can't defend yourself. Anyway, I'll close this letter now, I just wanted you to know that I no longer bear any ill feeling toward you, and I intend to spend many happy hours watching you get what you deserved. As I said earlier, you're welcome to come and see the video yourself sometime, though I warn you, I may decided I need a little more vengeance if you do. Yours sincerely, Mary Donovan. * * * * * Dear Mary, I have to admit that you fooled me completely. When you tied my hands I thought you were simply planning some kinky sex and I've always wondered what that would be like. Little did I know just how kinky you intended, or for that matter why? I swear, I didn't realise you meant no that first night, I would never have continued if Id known. And I suppose what you did to me, while painful and humiliating is far better than being arrested for rape. So I'm very grateful to you for that at least. As far as eating pussy is concerned, it's something I never really enjoyed before, but being unable to resist seemed to make it all right and I have to admit, you did taste great. As for my visitors, well like you I felt sorry for Marie. She was very gentle and polite, apologising frequently as she fucked me. But she did seem to enjoy it and I'm glad I could be of service to her. You were right about Mrs. Fairchild, she was disgusting, and dreadful though it was I'd rather have had Sam all night than have to put up with half an hour with that awful stinking woman. And yes, it was fairly obvious Ronnie was a dyke and yes I was filled with trepidation to put it mildly. She's a real man hater isn't she? Sad really, she'd be much better off just getting on with her own life. And finally there was Sam. Well you saw the video, not only did he get my cherry, but also his was the first, and I sincerely hope last, cock I've sucked. Throughout the whole experience I tried to remember what it had been like eating you, believe me it helped a great deal. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but when you came in and released one of my wrists I was actually a little disappointed. You say I was silent throughout the ordeal, but I don't remember you saying more that 2 words all night either. And I'm certain I saw a glint of compassion in your eyes as you freed me wrist. It took me ages to untie my bonds, the other wrist was fairly easy, but I had a great deal of trouble bending in the corset so it was very hard to reach my ankles. Once I was free I hobbled over to the mirror to see exactly what you'd done to me. The strange thing was, as I looked at myself I was soon rock hard again, you were quite right, there was something erotic about the way you'd made me look. Okay, I know I'd make a ridiculous looking woman, but I still felt very sexy. I even tried playing with myself, but unfortunately the ring soon put a stop to any aspirations I may have had in the ejaculation area. You'll probably think this is ludicrous but I stayed dressed exactly as you'd left me for the whole weekend just on the off chance you might decide to pay me another visit. You were right about the steel chain on the shoes being hard to cut; luckily I had some hacksaw blades and was able, after a lot of effort, to cut though the padlocks. I did the same with the cock ring. And I certainly wouldn't think of throwing any of the clothes away, particularly the corset. I've tried wearing it a few times since that night but sadly I can't pull it in tightly enough. Which brings me to the reason for my reply, I've fantasised every night about what happened to me on the night you decided to avenge yourself. And in answer to your question, though I don't really think you meant it, I'd love to see the video. You can bring it round anytime you like I don't go out much these days. Just one small condition, would you please bring your little bag of tricks as well? Yours forever Gary Wilding. P.S. Don't forget the small padlocks for the shoes, I tried buying some but it's not the same when you know you can take them off whenever you wish.