I am a bitch. A 19 year old, cruel, sick, twisted, sadistic bitch.
And my mission in life? To humiliate women much older than me. To set them straight.
To watch them crumble and fall at my feet, then serve me however I please.
Married women are the easiest to tame, when I threaten to seduce their meal-ticket husbands. I’d say I’ll suck his cock and then open my legs and trick him into making me pregnant. I’d say I could wreck their marriage and take over their home and consign them out onto the street.
I’d watch them squirm as I poured on the torment and break them one step at a time.
And once they’re entangled in my cruel sticky web, I subject them to whatever mood takes me.
How am I able to do this?
Sometimes …. because they believe my ominous threats, and then they simply just let me.
Sometimes …. because of my formidable stature, they daren’t even try to stop me.
Sometimes …. because they are so weak and spineless, they think it’s what they deserve.
Sometimes, oh yes, sometimes …. when they realise they have no choice but to serve the depraved demands of a cruel and dominant lesbian bitch, then I’m their wildest dark fancy come true.
But why do I do this?
There’s a question I’ve often pondered myself. Am I an aberration of nature? An evil, perverted psychopath? Or maybe an obsessive schizophrenic sexual deviant?
But really there’s only one answer that fits …..
I do it …. because I can.
………
So, let me tell you how it all started.
……..
I am quite tall for my age, you see. Not fat, but big boned. My mother was 6 foot 2, and my father even taller, and their genes were passed on to me.
It used to fascinate me watching Mom in converse with other women. She seemed to tower over them, and if she leaned in, or moved a bit closer, the other would in reflex step back. They looked intimidated, as they seemed to cower and shrink, overwhelmed by her very presence.It was physical hierarchy in action, and I found it exciting, exhilarating…. So as I became older, I wanted some of that power for myself. I could use it in all sorts of ways.
It was around the time of my mid-teens when I started testing my capabilities. I started being a bully.
And it worked….. for quite a while. Borrowing money never to be repaid. Having my books carried around. Getting special orders of cake and chocolate. Delegating my homework.
But I had a harsh and sudden a wake-up call when I was 15. A group of three older lads waylaid me and dragged me behind some bushes as I walked home from school. They pinned me down, and with venom in their eyes, and veins bulging in their foreheads, informed me that if I ever tried to extort lunch money from their sister again, they would beat me to a black and blue bloody pulp. With that, they give me a few slaps, and I agreed to never go near her again. But I also learned something else that day. Although I didn’t like the male of the species, and had no intention of losing my virginity, this “incident” left me seriously aroused. I realised that being on the receiving end of a bout of totally paralyzing and overwhelming domination could be extremely “invigorating”. It was one for the little black book.
………………………………..
Despite this unnerving skirmish, their sister was just one of my many “benefactors”. Being a bully was a deep addiction, and I wasn’t deterred by a one-time shot across the bows. The incident passed, but I was here to stay. I simply had to be more discriminating. And I was. I harassed and harried only when I was sure of my mark. The passing months turned into a couple of years, and I arrived at the end of my time at school without further counter-attacks.
I was then 17, and ecstatic to be leaving the education system behind. I didn’t need college and all that nonsense. I was self-learning how to use a different kind of knowledge and power. But as I moved into the adult world, the big time, I knew I had to refine and hone my skills. I needed to watch a master practitioner in action.
That’s when I struck lucky. I secured employment at a travel agency, all be it on the bottom rung. I was the office lackey, making coffee, opening the mail, emptying bins… you know the sort of thing. Anyways, what counted was…. I was working along-side charismatic, persuasive sales-women… Five of them…. And I keenly watched them in action.
Angie was the pushy one. The type who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. She was my heroine. Clients would come in and sit opposite, and Angie would work her magic. Some couples were sharp. They’d done their homework, knew exactly what they wanted, and just needed a professional like Angie to tie it all together. But other couples were the opposite. They had plenty to spend but were completely clueless as to what they really wanted. I marvelled as I watched Angie change into a dictatorial empress. Within minutes she had them wrapped around her little finger. I recon if she told them to go out back and change into their swimwear, then return to the public shopfront and parade around for us to judge if it was suitable, they would have done it. I wanted to be like Angie.
I wanted suckers to willingly come to me, so I could “enlighten” them.
And when they fell into line….. Oh boy, did I have plans.
………………………
Weeks went by, and more and more I was allowed to sit in on “interviews”. Eventually I was encouraged to interject with pertinent questions. My eighteenth birthday was only 2 months away, and the boss, Silvie, a stern woman in her 50s, told me she was pleased with my progress. She said I had all the suitable attributes and wanted me to have a desk of my own as soon as I turned 18.
It was the longest 2 months of my life.
………………………
At 10.30 on the first Monday morning of sitting behind my newly appointed desk, the little bells on the shop door tinkled, and in walked a couple who I guessed were in their mid 40s. They voluntarily came over, having noted all the other girls were busy. After they were seated and we’d performed all the formal introductions, we commenced with the business at hand. I don’t know if it was luck or fate, but they hadn’t had a holiday for a couple of years and were seeking suggestions for a month-long vacation. I steered them through various options, and they were so naive and docile they showed interest in virtually everything. I convinced them to seriously consider a cruise, and that I’d like to loan them an informational video. I explained it was reserved for the next couple of days, but I could personally drop it around to their home as soon as it came back. That’s how I verified when they both came and went, and when she’d be home on her own.
All the time they were there, I never stood up. I’d leave that as an unnerving surprise.
……………………..
It was mid-morning. I wasn’t wearing my office uniform as I walked up to her porch, video in hand, and my big bag of goodies slung over my shoulder. I’d chosen a light, short summer dress and my highest of heels. With my hair bunched and pinned high up on my head, I stood over seven feet tall.
Silvie wasn’t happy about me ringing in sick, but she’d bought my story about “women’s issues”.
Mrs. Marrelli answered my knocking.
“Hi, I’ve got the video with me”, I breezed in a bright, cheery tone. I wanted her off guard and at ease. I inwardly smirked as I gazed down at her small frame, with her eyes aligned with my breasts. When her head tilted backwards and she awkwardly looked up, it was accompanied by a distinctly audible gasp. She didn’t realise what she’d just given away. She was bewildered, alarmed and astounded.
“Oh, thank you”, she said as she reached out her hand, expecting me to pass her the flat plastic box.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Marrelli, but what I have here is hot property. I was right to say you are considering a great option, because everyone wants to get on board, if you’ll excuse the pun. Although it is very informative, the video only runs for twenty minutes. I should come in and wait while you see what’s on offer, so I can take it away again straight after. But if you decide you like it, then I’ll certainly come back again so Mr. Marrelli can see the show, if you think it’s something he’d enjoy watching”.
Oh, I do love my loaded phrases.
“Well, erm, I wasn’t…… well, yes, I suppose. You’d better come in. I don’t want you to have wasted your journey”, she said, with her head still tilted back at an odd angle. She stepped aside and as I walked in through the doorway I made a big show of having to duck low, to highlight our different dimensions. I brazenly flaunted my sizeable advantage, to ensure she knew where she stood. I wanted to show her that when her time came, it would be futile to put up a struggle.
But first, to establish my authority.
“A coffee would be nice before we start, Mrs Marrelli, don’t you think? White with two sugars.”
“Oh, erm, yes of course.” I could hear the hesitation, feel the tension. I had her on the back foot. When she walked across to her kitchen, I purposely followed. I’d charmed my way in, but now was the time for some pressure.
“Nice home you have here, Mrs. Marrelli. But I feel so formal using your surname. What does your husband call you?”
“My name is Nichole.”
“No, that wasn’t my question. What does your husband call you?”
She looked at me in confused irritation, and I could see her debate what to say.
“Well?” I urged, as she tried playing for time by fussing with the coffee cups. I took two short steps closer and she knew she must answer. She turned and blurted out “Niki”.
“Ni-ki” I echoed, laboured and slow, in a provoking two syllable click. ”That sounds much nicer. I had a friend at school called Nichole, but her nickname was “Mine”… You know .. nick-coal-mine. I used to call her “Mine” all the time. My nickname at school was Misterina, but you can call me Miss.”
“Oh, I thought it was..”
“Miss”, I interrupted sharply. “It’s what all my friends call me. I insist that you call me Miss”.
After a slight hesitation and with a scrunch furrowed brow, she put one foot on my slippery slope.
“Oh, OK.”
Another pause followed, as I saw her cogs turning, at the implications of calling me “Miss.” Composure returned, but there’s no doubt she’d been thrown. She’d totally forgotten the thread.
“You’ll have to forgive me but remind me how you like your coffee.”
“How do you like your coffee, Mmm….?” I echoed, with my eyebrows raised and an up-flick of both hands, pressing her to round out her question. Come on, Niki. put both feet on my slippery slope.
“How do you like your coffee… Miss?” she hesitatingly but irrevocably bought into to my prompt. I inwardly sighed with relief.
“Hot, white and sweet, and served up with a dutiful smile.”
“Oh, yes, of course”, she said softly, and when I re-flicked the fingers on my up-turned flat hands, she quietly added… “Miss”.
“I’ll set up the video now, while you bring in the coffee and cookies,” I said in an assertive, stern tone, intentionally adding more burden to her duties.
“Oh, I’ll, erm, yes, OK.”
I thrust my head forwards with, “I didn’t hear you,” as I again up-wiggled my fingers, obliging her to offer correction. Then with much more conviction in a definite dutiful tone she uttered those symbolic words, “Yes Miss.”
She’d put both her feet on my slippery slope, and I grinned as she started to slide.
….. ……
I left her in the kitchen to prepare the coffee, while I made preparations of my own. I set up my camera, a spy-master special, pointing straight at the front of the lounge. Then I loaded the cruise promo-video into the player, knowing it was not what it seemed.
…. …….
“Niki,” I grimaced after a small sip from my cup, “this coffee is absolutely awful. What would your husband do if you served up such rubbish? Put you over his knee, I should think,” as I studied for her reflex reaction.
“I’m sorry. It must be the milk or something,” she apologised like a well-trained gracious hostess.
“Never mind. The video is ready. I won’t risk another coffee otherwise I may end up putting you over my knee myself. Sit down and I’ll start the presentation. Is that what you want?” I said as one long sentence without taking a pause, knowing exactly what I was doing.
Nichole sat down on the lounge opposite the TV and looked at me as she nodded her head yes, then her eyes focused back onto the blank screen. I could see she was too rattled to speak, having been confused by my provocative wording, but I wanted to push for more subservience.
“Was that nod a yes, Ni-Ki?” I asked with authority.
“Yes,” she almost inaudibly croaked.
“Yes .. mmm?” I hummed as a question.
She flashed the briefest of glances up at me, then again quietly croaked, “Yes Miss.”
“That’s better. “Miss” all the time from now on, yes?” I said, as I brought my palms together with a loud clap to give weight to my request, but I didn’t wait or push for an answer.
I pressed the ‘start’ button, and leaving the remote by the tv, stepped over to sit next to Niki. I set our legs to be almost touching as I nonchalantly leaned back into the lounge. The top of her head was as low as my shoulders, and she looked so small and weak at my side. I could see my boldness had made her perturbed, as she took refuge in the flickering screen.
The first images were different angles of a grand ocean liner gliding through a calm silver sea. Then it started showing some of the passengers walking around on the ship’s deck. It showed a line-up of several sun-lounges, all adorned with bikini-clad babes. One of them started to rub oily lotion onto one of the others, a slim, petite blonde. All the other chicks then started on her too. This petite hot babe was being totally surrounded, and a forest of hands made her glisten with a slick, shiny lube. Then there was a close-up of fingers pulling at the strings on the sides of her skimpy bikini, and the knots falling undone. When the cut-away returned as an open angle shot, it revealed her shaved and oiled body had been rendered totally naked. Niki turned to look up at me in preparation to speak, but I cut her off before any words came out.
“It looks as if someone has played a trick on us, Niki. It seems as if we are about to witness the calculated ravishment of this hapless hot babe, and it’s starting to make me aroused.”
Niki was now fidgeting around in a state of embarrassed confusion and when she placed her hands on the lounge and braced her arms to take her weight, it was obvious she was going to try get away. I settled one hand firmly on her shoulder, and when I said “Shh! Don’t go”, she slumped straight back down without saying a word. She then turned her head to one side as if to avoid the continuing scenes, but at my assertive order… “Let’s keep watching,” her eyes looked up at me with the briefest of glances, then her attention returned to the disturbing events being played out on the screen.
The hot chick in the movie, now naked and oiled, had hands roaming all over her body. She bucked and she writhed as if it wasn’t what she wanted, but her moans were unmistakably carnal. As Niki was staring with stunned disbelief, I slowly eased up onto my feet and discretely positioned myself behind her while she remained mesmerized in her seat. The next scene was where the oiled babe was pulled up onto her feet, and the arms of several other babes lifted her high in the air. The scene showed a large wedge wooden block, which, affixed on top and in the middle, was a large, imposing, erect dildo. The oiled-up babe, now squirming in fear, was inexorably manoeuvred into place. With hands holding her legs spread wide open, she was lowered down onto the grotesque looking dildo. Then there was a shot of hands pressing down on her shoulders, and their weight meant she couldn’t balance on tip-toe and was forced to stand flat on her feet. The camera did a close-up to show the dildo was now unmistakably half the way in. There was a bar at arms-length in front of her chest which she’d grabbed to maintain her balance, but which was useless to try relieve any downward pressure. Then two women, one at each side, took hold of her ankles, and in unison, yanked her legs backwards. The babe in the movie gave a blood-curdling scream as her full weigh slapped down onto the apex of the wedge, and the full length of huge dildo disappeared out of sight. At this barbaric impalement, Niki let out a loud gasp, and because I had positioned myself behind her, I simultaneously slapped my hands down hard on her shoulders to keep her in place.
“They’ve got her now, Niki. No escape. And it gets worse. You’d better keep watching.”
Niki started squirming as I held my hands firmly on her shoulders, but her eyes stayed fixed on the screen. The action continued as ropes were then weaved, securing the babe in this horrendous forced situ. When she’d been ensnared in a tangled tight web, it showed a lone hand flick a white switch. There commenced a buzzing which came from the block, and the babe started showing signs of discomfort. The next scene highlighted a black-lined canvas bag, which was then slipped down over her head. The buzzing increased to bee’s wing crescendo, and the babe’s oiled-up body, still wriggling and writhing, started to flush an orgasmic bright red. The other women started pushing and steering the large wooden wedge block which was obviously rolling on wheels. Pushing and heaving, the film showed the block’s wheels turning, while the hooded babe kept bucking and moaning. The block kept on moving with its wild frantic cargo to the edge of the ocean-liners high deck. The camera panned out to give a scene from above, showing a heart-stopping long drop to the sea. The block was pushed further until the front wheels were teetering on the edge of this terrifying long drop to the churning and seething water far below. The babes frantic writhing had become fully carnal, with the buzzing dildo obviously doing its job. The babe was now bucking hard in the confines of her tied web, like she was trying to ride a bronco, and clearly crazed by orgasmic vexation. Just at that moment a hand whisked off her hood. When the babe saw where she was, her eyes flew open like saucers, but the block and its hapless cargo was given one final firm push. With another blood-curdling scream, the babe, who was clinging tightly to the support bar, and still glowing bright red and convulsing, and still in the throes of a powerful orgasm, appeared to disappear straight over the edge. Niki let out a shriek and started shaking like she was having a seizure, and it took all my strength to keep her in place. The next scene panned slowly around another vacant wood block, highlighting it also was fitted with an erect and overtly large dildo. Then the scene showed a middle-aged couple on lounges, holding hands sweetly as they lay side by side in their swimwear. The group of babes in their scanty bikinis approached them and engaged them in friendly conversation. The man is reassured by two babes to remain where he is, as the others coerce the woman away. She’s then persuaded to lay down on a lounge just around the corner from this other wooden wedge block and its dildo, and the babes start to apply shiny lube oil. The woman seems happy to go with the flow as she gets pampered with soft soothing hands. She seems really relaxed as the hands keep on working, getting bolder and ever more brazen. The woman, now clearly affected by her seductive massage, starts to wriggle in sensual indulgence. The camera shows a close-up of hands on the waist-band of her bikini, which slowly gets eased down her thighs. At this point the camera gives a screen shot of the wooden wedge block and it’s large, erect dildo, then back to the woman now oiled up and naked. The woman complies and gives a soft purring moan as the babes pull her up and onto her feet. You can hear the girls laughing and jeering in the background as a hood is waved in front her face. The woman holds her head up and steady with her eyes firmly closed, a clear sign of unspoken approval. When secured into darkness, the babes then guide her around the corner, to the wooden block and its menacing vertical appendage. It shows several hands start to lift her up high, and then her dangling feet, hapless and circling, seeking traction in the void of mid-air. As the scene fades to darkness, you can hear desperate screams, and then the screen then goes eerily blank.
“Wow,” I said, as a breathy exclamation, “that has made me so hot.”
Despite seeing the clip several times before, the vision a woman being torn apart by the plight of being haplessly in the throes of orgasm, yet suddenly realising she is about to be subjected to some kind of grotesque and barbaric horror, always makes me hot. It’s a scenario I strive for when entertaining my “friends.”
Niki turned around to me with a wide-eyed stare and a mouth flopping like a fish out of water, but no sounds came out from her lips. Her head traced my movement as I ran around from the back of the lounge, to where I grasped both her hands, and pulled her resolutely onto her feet. With my hands behind her shoulders, I pulled her head to my chest, like a mother comforting a bewildered sick child.
“Oh baby of mine,” I breathed slow, soft and tender, “it’s made you upset. Don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.” I held her close for quite a long moment, then as we broke, she tipped her head obliquely backwards. Our gazes locked on, like flaming red lasers, and we connected, straight eye to eye. I sank to my knees so our heads were aligned, and like insidious poison, I ever so slowly leaned in. She too edged forwards, passive and calm, just like a moth to a flame. I placed my hands on the back of her head, and inexorably, I reeled her right in. When our lips finally met, she gave a soft, passive moan, and her hands came around the back of my shoulders. I knew that for her, our spontaneous embrace was a need for calming reassurance. For me, it was the spring of a well thought out trap, and a simple cruel case of “I have now got you.” And just like my “friend” Nichole from high school who was under my spell, I was about to ensure that every part of her was going to be mine. Oh yes, my poor Niki, I sure judged you well when I thought you’d be easy. By the end of today, you’ll have sealed your own fate. Henceforth, you are going to be “Mine.”
……………………………..
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nichole gushed when she regained her senses. “I didn’t mean to….” She tailed off.
“I knew exactly what you needed when you instinctively started calling me ‘Miss’. That’s the sort of person you are. You let others take charge, so you don’t have to make any decisions.”
“No, it’s, I never…. I..” she started to gibber, and now I had to show her who’s boss.
“What is your husband going to say when I tell him you tried to seduce me?” I sneered, keeping her on a short rein.
“No, I didn’t, I mean I wasn’t….” as she started to babble again.
“You know that horrible cup of coffee you brought in earlier, and how you’ve now tried to seduce me. Well, I’m going to punish you for it. And you are going to let me, aren’t you, so I won’t be of a mind to tell your husband how badly you’ve behaved?”
“No, that was a mistake. I didn’t….”
“Well, to make sure there won’t be any more mistakes, you’re going to go over my knee.” And with that, I plonked myself down on the lounge and tapped the top of my thighs with my palm. She looked at me as if she hoped I wasn’t serious, but I prompted her with my sternest of tones.
“Come on, you know it’s going to happen… Let’s get this over with, I haven’t got all day.”
But what she didn’t know was I had no intention of leaving for hours. Not until just before her husband was due to come home. Just enough time for her to compose herself after the nightmare she was about to endure. The nightmare I was going to record on video. A journal of exploits, showing my pathetic new slave commit a whole range of disgusting acts upon herself.
Oh, yes! My big bag of goodies and my twisted, sick mind were aching to get down and get nasty.
But first… It was time to enter uncharted waters. It was time to tame my first middle-aged bitch.
……..
“Knee”, I commanded in my sternest of tones, whilst pointing at the top of my thigh.
“No, I…. “ she stammered, lacking vigour and courage, as she looked away and down at the floor.
“Fucking knee …. now,” I barked, as I palm-slapped my thigh, the loud crack making her visibly jump.
“No, please, I …” again she flustered, but remained like a statue in place.
“Don’t make me come and get you,” I threatened, “or it’ll be worse for you.”
Her feet started edging, like she was sliding on skis, one tiny glide at a time.
“That’s it. Let yourself go. You know it’s for your own good,” I coaxed in a sugar-coat tone, mocking her trembling angst.
“No, please, I’ve never….” she started as a last ditch bid when her slink reached the side of my legs.
“Too late for that, Now get down on your knees and lay yourself over,” I directed with firm resolution, as I patted the tops of my thighs.
I couldn’t help but grin when her knees touched the floor. Oh, Niki, you really are so easy….
As her body was bending over, I said, “This is going to hurt me more that it does you,” causing her to throw a final pleading glance at my eyes. Perhaps it was the word “hurt,” but she was already balanced way too far over, and when my hand grasped hard on the nape of her neck, she ceased to have any choice. Pinned down and arched over the top of my thighs, she was now fully at my disposal.
“Are you going to count, or shall I?”, I breathed with an air of triumph, having got her just where I wanted. With my left hand now clamped on the back of her neck, and my right palm pressing down on the small of her back, she dangled like hapless rag doll.
“I don’t want…. “ she started weakly, but I wasn’t of a mind to hear it.
“Fifty it is then,” I firmly decreed, causing her to gasp and to wriggle.
“No, please, I don’t….”
…… thwack …… I unleashed my first sting on her dress covered ass. I wanted her to stop talking.
…… thwack …… again, which echoed the room, and she arched to try raise her head.
“No, please stop….”
…… thwack …… yet again, so hard it hurt my palm, and it certainly got her attention.
“Ow,” she cried, “No, please, please …” It was now a quavering sob.
……. thwack …… was my instant reply. “If you stop talking, I’ll reduce your sentence, unless you want the whole fifty and more.”
When I felt her give a slight nod of her head, but no words came out, I soothingly said,
“OK, I’ll stop at forty.”
A couple of thwacks later, I paused in my onslaught, which also caused her to stop wriggling.
“Do you want me to reduce it to thirty?” I asked with feigned concern, fully knowing she couldn’t see my cruel smirk. She nodded her head yes which suited me fine, because it was to be a two-sided deal.
“Sentence reduced to thirty it is then, but on your bare ass, and providing you remove your own panties.”
“But I didn’t think…..” she started her protest, but that was part of my plan.
“We agreed on forty, but since you’ve been good, I’ll reduce it to thirty, but rewards have to pay a small price. In this case, it’s you standing up, removing your panties, then back over my knee to offer your bare ass to my hand. And you are going to do it, yes?”
There was a long moment of complete stillness. I knew this was a defining moment as I sat motionless and holding my breath. Except for Niki’s involuntary shaking, neither of us spoke or moved for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only 20 seconds.
But then, she sealed her own fate.
This Italian floozy, this faint-heart from Fiat-land, fell into her own ‘fait-accompli’.
“Ok”, she breathed in the faintest of whispers, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. There’s always a deep sense of satisfaction at the first complete capitulation of one of my victims when they agree to accept my decree.
“Did I just hear you say ‘yes miss’?” I asked, wanting her to use those specific words to make it easier to edit my video later. “Well?” I pressed.
“Yes Miss,” she breathed in quiet resignation.
“Stand up and strip, then.” I barked. “Do it now.”
Niki slowly unfurled herself from my knee and stood upright. I couldn’t help but smile as her hands hitched up the sides of her skirt and she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties. I sat quietly and patient as they dropped to her ankles, and her feet lifted one at a time.
“Dress too,” I ordered, as I wafted my hand at her stance.
“But I didn’t think….” she again started.
“You don’t have to think,” I snapped in. “Just do as you’re told. That piece of rag you call a fucking dress. Take it off …… now.”
Despite the feigned aggression in my emphatic demand, still she was slow to react. But after several tense seconds her hands reached down to the hem of her dress and arced it up over her head.
“That’s it,” I urged, “It’s for your own good. You know it’s what you deserve.”
With her now standing in only her bra, I snapped my fingers with a resounding click as I again pointed at the top of my thigh. With no further instruction, she dropped down to her knees and again she slowly bent over.
“That’s a good girl,” I cooed. “We’ve almost done. Just a few more light smacks to go.”
Once she was down with her neck in my grasp, I let rip on her protruding bare ass.
Thwack … thwack … thwack… thwack … thwack …. thwack… in quick succession as hard as I could, the sting now bright red and angry. I’d laid into her so hard and so fast she’d no time to rebel, but now was the time for a pause.
“How do you like that, you lazy weak bitch?” I barked, again with pointed and feigned aggression.
“Noooo,” she wailed, in a pathetic long sob, as I gently rubbed her bare ass to calm her.
“No more just yet,” I soothed. My palm gently rubbed her redness, and with each slow, lazy circle, my middle finger encroached further and further down her ass-crack. After about 10 slides around, my finger was dipping so low it was finding the soft folds of her sex. Then with one final dip, my middle finger entered full trespass into her sloppy and inflamed arousal. “You like this, don’t you babe?” I purred, rubbing salt in her wound, knowing she would attempt to deny the plain truth.
“Nooo,” she quavered in the faintest of whispers, her wetness telling a whole different story. I kept my finger exactly where it was as I gave it a few subtle wriggles.
“Oh, but you do, babe,” I disputed, mocking her dilemma by gently see-sawing my finger in her wetness. “Come on, open those legs for my you dirty slut whore. You know you can’t stop yourself.”
And sure enough, her toes did a little fandango to shuffle her legs wider, gifting me far better access. As I deepened my finger and work ever more firmly, she shuffled her legs even wider.
As my right hand worked its magic, my left hand found the clasp of her bra. With a deft little fiddle, the elastic flicked away, and the straps hung loose on her shoulders. When the time comes for her to stand upright, which I would make her do when my fingers have fully opened her wet sex, I was going to pull the bra away to render her fully naked. That’s exactly how I wanted her when I grabbed her by the hair and dragged my sobbing new slave into the bedroom. I was going to use my stature and considerable physical advantage to simply drag her there, knowing the trauma of such sudden and unexpected rough handling would suffocate of any kind of protest. Then Mrs Marelli was going to discover the horrors which were contained in my shoulder bag. With my sadistic agenda and barbaric devices, we were in for a fun afternoon.
She was my first married conquest, and I was going to ensure it would be indelibly memorable for both of us. I was going to make her violate, debase and degrade herself right there in front of me and my high definition recorder. I’d then have all the material I need to drag this meek and innocent housewife to the deepest depths of my cruel and barbaric sex hell. Oh, yes… this poor bitch was going to use my sick and fiendish toys to inflict so many grotesque orgasms on herself, she’ll wish she had never been born.
I could hardly wait….