History: This story was originally posted on rppstories.com, which was subsequently absorbed into sensualpain.com; but sensualpain has no mechanism for updating stories or posting new ones, so I'm re-editing it and posting it here in 8 parts.


A young married schoolteacher is blackmailed by one of her teenage students and forced into unwanted sex and punishment. Things escalate as the story proceeds in subsequent parts, including humiliation and rapes by others.

{ASS} Object of Affection 1 {Belany} (blackmail humil n/c mF spank oral)


OBJECT OF AFFECTION part 1 of 8

by Belany

CHAPTER 1

She heard the footsteps coming into the classroom and looked up. She sighed. It was him again.

"Yes, Albie?" she said, a little irritably.

The tall gawky teenager stood in front of her, squirming a little. "Uh, Mrs Jones, I..." He swallowed. "I just wanted..."

She laid her pen down resignedly. It was bad enough having to stay back late marking term papers, without an infatuated fourteen-year-old hanging around to complicate things. "Albie," she said gently, "I'm busy."

He flushed. "I'm sorry, Mrs Jones." Then he started fumbling hurriedly in his bag. "I... I just wanted to show you something." He flattened the colored sheets down in front of her on the desk.

For a moment she didn't register. They looked like colored photocopies, blurry and of poor quality, of some naked pinup girl. She felt the outrage growing in her and was just opening her mouth to protest. And then suddenly it hit her.

"Albie," she said weakly, "where in God's name did you find these?"

He was looking steadily at her, his body unnaturally tense. Then he relaxed, and let out a long, slow, ragged breath. "So," he whispered, "it *is* you."

Immediately she realized her mistake. "I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "How dare you come in here and show me these disgusting..."

His expression was triumphant. "Hot damn!" he said exultantly. "I knew it was you. It says 'Amanda' under the pictures and I just knew it was you!" He reached down to take back the sheets and she quickly jerked them out of his reach.

"I... I think the best thing to do with these is to burn them," she said, jumping up and crumpling them hurriedly in her hands. "There are matches in the storage cupboard..."

"Mrs Jones." His voice came from behind her, cutting through her haste. "I've still got the originals."

She stopped, trembling, and felt helpless tears beginning to sting her eyes. Then she took a deep breath and turned around slowly to face him. He was sitting on the corner of her desk, toying idly with her pen, not looking at her. Suddenly he seemed bigger, more self-assured - and much older than fourteen.

"Albie..." Her mouth worked, trying to force the words out. "Albie, for God's sake, it was ten years ago. I needed money to go to college, I..."

"Mr Jones know about these?"

She stared at him wordlessly. She could feel her tears building.

"How about the school Principal?"

The tears were running down her cheeks now. "Albie, please, for God's sake..."

He looked up at her at last. "My name's Albert," he said. "I don't like it when people call me Albie."

She stood looking at him, still trembling. "What do you want?" Her hands were squeezing the wadded paper so hard that her fingers ached. "Damn it, what do you WANT?"

He just sat there, staring steadily at her. Finally he spoke. "I want you to be nice to me. That's all." His mouth twisted. "I just want one person who'll do that."

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, trying to control her trembling. "Albie..." He frowned and she corrected herself hurriedly. "I mean, Albert. I... I don't dislike you, Albert. And I don't think I've ever been mean to you, have I?" He didn't reply, and she pressed her advantage. "Have I, Albert?"

"I guess not," he said reluctantly. He looked back down at the desk.

She tried to keep her voice steady. "And you must have a family who cares about you. I've seen the expensive clothes and things that you've been given. Your mother and father..."

"I haven't seen my mother in two years. And my Dad hardly ever comes home, for God's sake, so he won't have to put up with me. He says... he says it's a serviced apartment anyway, and the maid's there to clean up my mess." He looked at her. "There's no one who gives a damn about me - not even you."

She felt her sense of desperation growing. "That's not true, Albert. I've always treated you fairly. I've always tried to encourage you to do good work." She hesitated. "I've... I've always liked you." Even to her own ears it rang hollow.

"Oh yeah?" His lip curled. "Then how come you treat me like the local nerd every time I come anywhere near you?"

"Alb-Albert, it's not that. It's just that I've got so much to do and you're always..."

"Always underfoot," he said bitterly. "I know. Like some stupid little kid brother." He stood up. "Well, now the stupid little kid brother's gonna call the tune for a change. Unless you want lots of people to see those pictures."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She felt utterly cold inside. "All right," she whispered. "What do you want?" She could feel her tears starting again.

"I want you to come home with me to my apartment." He pulled a sour face. "To my very own fancy serviced apartment. And when we get there I want you to be nice to me. Real nice."

Oh God, she thought desperately, I don't believe this. He's a fourteen-year-old kid, for God's sake. "Albert, I... I can't do that. My husband - he's expecting me home."

"He's away," he said brutally. "On a business trip. I found that out."

Yes, she though bitterly, he is away. He's never around when I need him. And now here I am, stuck with this vindictive little teenage nerd, who wants to blackmail me into doing God knows what...

His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Pack up your things. We're going in your car. To my apartment."

She made one last desperate effort to regain control. "Albert, I... I won't do it. I won't do it, I tell you." Her trembling was getting worse. "I'm going straight to the Principal to report you for attempted blackmail. And then I'm going to the police."

He just stood there looking at her. "The Principal's gone home, Mrs Jones. You'll have to wait till the morning." Then he started to smile. "But you can still go to the cops. The photos should be all over the papers by tomorrow. Then you won't have to worry about telling the Principal. Or your husband."

"Oh God!" The words were torn out of her. She groped blindly for her chair. "Oh God." Then she was weeping again, the tears pouring down her cheeks and falling onto the front of her blouse. "Oh God!"

Finally her sobbing slowed and stopped. He was still standing in front of her. And then she realized he was holding out a tissue, offering it to her. She took it without thinking and pressed it to her face.

"You don't have to cry, Mrs Jones." His voice was low, almost tender. "All I want is for you to be nice to me."

* * * * *

The drive was like a nightmare. All she could remember afterwards was that he was sitting beside her and that it was late enough for the streetlights to be on. And after she switched off the engine in the basement carpark she realized she had no memory whatever of how she had driven there.

She closed her eyes as they traveled up in the elevator. This isn't happening, she kept telling herself. This isn't happening. But the shudder as the elevator came to a halt was all too real, and the soft swish of the doors opening was like the loudest sound she had ever heard. Then she jumped as she felt his hand close around her upper arm, and she followed him dumbly out into the hallway.

He unlocked the door of the apartment and then stood back, holding the door open for her. She noticed, almost with surprise, that he was trembling. "Please come in, Mrs Jones," he said thickly. "Please come in to my apartment."

He locked the deadlock behind them and then sagged suddenly against the door. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "It's actually happened." He turned around and looked at her. "I've done it. You're actually here - in this apartment. And you're locked in!" He moved towards her and she shrank back.

"Please, Albert," she begged, holding up her hands to ward him off, "don't come any closer. Please." She took several deep shaky breaths. "Why... why don't we stop this right now, before it goes any further? Just unlock the door and I'll leave, and I promise I'll never say anything to anybody about all this. Please."

"Oh God," he whispered. He was trembling even more. "I'm gonna see you naked. I'm gonna be able to touch you - to touch your... Not just pictures any more. Oh God!" He reached out and, after a moment's hesitation, darted his hand to her blouse, right on top of her left breast. Then he grabbed at her through the clothing.

"Albert!" She snatched at his wrist with both hands, trying frantically to fend him off. "For God's sake stop it! You're just a kid and this is against the law and..."

He stopped, staring almost stupidly into her face. Then he blinked. "No," he breathed. He pulled his hand slowly out of her desperate grasp and brushed the hair back from his forehead. "No," he repeated, louder this time. "Gotta... gotta do this right." He stepped back and sank down into a chair, still trembling. His next words took her completely by surprise. "You want a drink?"

"What...?" She stared down at him uncomprehending, her body pressed back hard against the locked door.

"A drink," he repeated. "A coke. Or a beer. My Dad keeps all that kind of stuff in the spare refrigerator. Which do you want?"

"Albert," she said desperately, "why don't you forget the drink and just unlock this door? I told you, I'll never say a word..."

Then he was on his feet again, gripping her so hard that it bruised her. "You don't understand. We gotta do it exactly right. Here - I'll show you." He dragged her towards another door. "That's my computer," he said.

She just gaped at him. He wants to show me his computer, she thought stupidly. At a time like this?

A look of impatience crossed his face. "My computer," he repeated. "That's where the scanned images are. And I've made them all into email attachments - JPEG files - ready to send out. Don't you understand?"

Computers! Even in the midst of her distress she could feel the old feelings returning, the helpless sense of not understanding, the unpleasant all-too-familiar tightening around her head, like a steel band. Her husband's voice, straining to be patient with her in front of their computer at home: It's simple, sweetheart. You just click on here, and when the little window opens... She gripped the edge of the doorframe and tried to stay upright. And what the hell's a jaypeg anyway, she thought desperately. All she could see on the computer screen was flying toasters.

He was still talking to her - meaningless words and phrases about address books and queued messages and firewalls and hacking. He grabbed the mouse and the toasters disappeared. "Look," he said triumphantly, clicking on the screen, "here's the attachment for the first message." And suddenly there was an image of her face, an image from ten years before, looking at her from the screen. She stared, hypnotized.

"And the next message," he went on, clicking again. And this time it was the same picture but with the frame wider, showing her bare shoulders and her hands hugging them. She kept staring helplessly at the screen.

Now there was another image - the same picture again but showing right down to below her waist. Her arms were crossed coyly in front of her breasts, but it was very obvious that she was naked. "And you know what the text says?" he asked. "It says: Do you know this woman?"

I remember that picture, she thought despairingly. It's the most recognizable of them all. Anyone who sees it will know it's me.

"So you see," he said smugly, "you gotta do exactly what I say. OK?" He twisted around in the chair and stared at her. "So take your clothes off. I wanna see you naked."

It felt unreal, like a horrible dream. There was a pulse pounding in her temple. "Albert..." she began faintly.

"Take them off," he repeated. "Now."

She pressed her forehead against the wall. "Oh God," she whispered. Her fingers gripped the doorframe so hard that they hurt.

"Don't you believe me?" His voice rose, harsh and angry. "I'll show you! I'll send the first one right now." He turned back to the computer and clicked viciously with the mouse. "There - it's gone!" He looked at her over his shoulder. "It'll be in your husband's mailbox in a few seconds. And in the Principal's. I c.c.'d it to him as well."

"What?" she screamed, incredulous. "You did what? You sent one of those pictures to my husband? And to the Principal? Which one did you send?" She took a half step towards him and he shrank back against the desk.

"I... I told you I was gonna do it," he said hastily. "I told you I was gonna do it if you didn't take your clothes off. And you didn't take your clothes off and I did it."

"But you... you didn't give me time!" she shrieked. "I didn't understand what you were going to do. I... I haven't the faintest idea about computers and all that stuff you were talking about. I didn't understand! Oh God - what did you do?"

"But I told you," he repeated. He stared at her, uncomprehending. "I told you I had the messages all queued up and..." He paused. "You mean you really didn't understand?"

"No!" she wailed despairingly. "And I still don't understand. What did you DO?"

"Gee, Mrs Jones, you really are dumb. About computers and stuff." He shook his head in resignation. "So lemme tell it to you slow, all over again. And this time you better listen real good. Otherwise your husband'll end up with a whole photo album of those pictures."

She found herself being drawn unwillingly forward, closer to the hateful screen, as he explained again. She felt sick inside, but she forced herself to pay attention. "This was the first message," he said. "And it says, 'Do you know this woman?' And I sent it to your husband and the Principal. And when they click on the attachment they'll see this picture." And the picture of her face was back on the screen.

She felt herself go limp with relief. "You mean that's all you sent?" she whispered. "Just that picture of my face?"

"Yeah, but they'll wonder, won't they? Where it came from, and why it's a picture of you. And when they get the next one..." He clicked again, and there was the next picture, the one of her head and shoulders. "And the one after that..." Her arms were crossed in front of her bare breasts. "And after that..." Now it was one of the more explicit pictures, with her full-frontal naked, posing suggestively on a bed.

The initial relief was replaced by dread. "OK, OK," she said desperately. "Please... please don't send any more, Albert." She could feel the tears starting again. "I'll do what you want."

"That's more like it," he breathed. He blinked up at her. "So take your clothes off. Like I said, I wanna see you naked."

"Oh God!" She turned away from him and began slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers were shaking so much she could hardly undo the buttons. Then she tensed as his voice came again from behind her.

"Nah," he said. "Turn around and face me. I wanna see it all."

With a low groan of despair she turned around, slowly, ever so slowly, and went on undressing in front of him, forcing her fingers to do what had to be done. He watched her without comment as she let each item of clothing fall unheeded to the floor. At last she stood nude in front of him. She was trembling so violently she could hardly stand up.

He ran his eyes all over her naked body and licked his lips. "Hot... damn..." he said slowly. "You're just as sexy as you were ten years ago. Maybe even better."

The situation overwhelmed her at last. Her legs gave way and she sank to her knees on the floor, clutching one arm across her bare breasts and covering her exposed pubes with her other hand. "I'm married," she sobbed. "Only my husband should see me like this. Why are you doing this to me?"

"How many guys saw you like this ten years ago? A million, maybe? Two million?" His voice was pitiless. She bowed her head and wept.

There was a long silence, broken only by her soft sobbing. Then at last he spoke. "Get up, Mrs Jones," he said. "Get up and come over here. I wanna touch you."

Her crying intensified. "Oh God, Albert, please..."

"I'm gonna count to three," he said. "And if you're not standing in front of me when I'm finished I'm gonna send the second message. And then the third one." He paused. "One...... two......"

"Nooooo!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet as fast as she could. She ran across to him, panting and trembling. "Please, Albert..."

He looked up at her from his chair. "Take your arms away from your tits," he said. "And step closer."

She gave a low moan of despair and obeyed him, standing with her arms by her sides. Her trembling had increased. He reached up slowly and grasped her left breast. She flinched, but didn't pull away.

"It's soft," he said wonderingly, as his fingers sank into her flesh. His other hand moved up to her right breast. "Real soft. I never thought tits'd be as soft as that." He began to play thoughtfully with her nipples, pulling and tugging at them. "And these things are supposed to stick out when you get... you know, horny." He tugged a little harder. "Aren't they?"

She winced under his tugging fingers. "Yes," she whispered wretchedly. "Oh God."

"But they're not sticking out now." He fondled her some more. "Aren't you horny yet?"

What the hell do you expect, she wanted to scream. You expect me to become aroused from standing here like this and being mauled by a perverted little monster like you? "No, Albert," she muttered brokenly. "I'm not horny."

He slid his hands slowly down her body until he was gripping the swell of her hips. He pulled her towards him and she stepped unwillingly closer. He peered almost reverently at her crotch. "My first close up view of pussy," he said wonderingly. "Real pussy." He brushed the backs of his fingers across her pubic bush. "It sure is hairy. More than in your pinups." He looked up at her face. "How come?"

She felt her face burning. "They... they trimmed it," she mumbled. "Before they took the photos." She closed her eyes in humiliation. Then she felt one of his fingers sliding up inside her and she opened her eyes again with a sudden gasp. "Albert - please!"

"Where is it?" he asked. "Your clit." He delved deeper. "Is this it?"

She shuddered, holding herself still by a huge effort of will. I will not break, she thought hopelessly. I will not... "Owwww!" she yelped suddenly, her hands flying to grab at his wrist. "Albert - you're hurting me!"

"Well, show me where it is," he said roughly, jabbing into her and making her cry out once more. "Stick your finger in here and show me. I wanna rub it and make you horny."

She tightened her grip on his wrist. The tears were pouring down her cheeks now - tears of humiliation and helplessness. And she was trembling so much she could hardly stay standing. "All right, Albert," she whispered. "I'll show you. Please stop hurting me and I'll show you."

He pulled his finger almost out of her and then stopped. "OK," he said impatiently. "Put your finger in here beside mine and show me."

Oh God, she thought despairingly, can I sink any lower than this? As she slowly spread her trembling knees apart she thought she was going to fall over, and without thinking she grabbed at his shoulder to steady herself. She tried to insert one finger in beside his but there wasn't room. So she just took hold of his hand and began pushing it slowly back in. "Th...there," she said dully. "Just there. Don't... don't do it too hard. You'll hurt me."

"That's it?" he asked in surprise. "This teeny thing? And I rub it like this?"

His touch was the most inexpert she had ever felt. She closed her eyes again, gripping his shoulder like a drowning person and trying to stay on her feet. "Yes, Albert," she whispered hopelessly. "Just like that."

"And your... your hole must be back here somewhere..." His hand moved in further, pushing her labia apart. "Oh yeah," he sighed as his finger slid up inside her, "there it is." His voice rose. "I don't believe it - I've got my finger right up inside a real pussy!" His finger moved roughly in and out of her again. "And that's where my dick's gonna go. Oh God!"

"Please, Albert," she protested shakily. "That hurts. Please stop it. Please."

His finger moved back to her clitoris and started clumsily rubbing it again. "How long have I gotta do it? Are you starting to get horny yet?"

Suddenly she lost it. "No, I am not getting horny!" she almost shrieked, trembling with helpless rage. "This is the most dreadful awful thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life and I am NOT GETTING HORNY!"

He pulled his finger abruptly out of her. "Well, get on the bed anyway," he said callously. "I wanna have my first fuck."

The dread flooded back, overwhelming her anger. She sank to her knees again, her hands clasped instinctively in front of her in a pathetic caricature of prayer. "Albert, I beg you. This is illegal. You're under eighteen. If anyone ever finds out that I've... that I've had sex with you, I'll go to jail. Please don't make me do this. Please!"

He looked down at her, his youthful face hard. "I'm not gonna tell the cops. Are you?" Then he stood up and began to take off his T-shirt. "I can always send more messages instead," he added, as his face disappeared inside the shirt.

She stayed on her knees in front of him, staring almost sightlessly at the bulge of his erection inside his jeans. Oh God, she thought despairingly, what am I going to do? Then she became aware that he was speaking again. "Count of three," he said. "One...... two......"

"Ohhhhhh!" It was a cry of pain, dragged out of her very depths. She floundered up onto the bed, her eyes blinded with tears, and lay there huddled in the fetal position. "Oh God!"

She heard the sound of clothing moving against skin, and then he was climbing onto the bed with her. She felt his naked body pressing against hers, felt the hardness of his erection digging into her bare buttock. "Roll over onto your back, Mrs Jones," he hissed into her ear. "And spread your legs."

She obeyed him. She felt completely numb. She kept her eyes jammed shut as he clambered on top of her, groping clumsily at her crotch. "Now, where's that hole?" he muttered. "Ahhhh - there it is!" She felt the head of his penis pressing at the mouth of her vagina and then heard him sigh as he slowly pushed himself into her. "Oh God," he gasped. "What a feeling. Oh God!"

Then without warning he started pumping at full speed, his erection pistoning violently in and out of her unready vagina, driving her limp body down against the mattress again and again. "First fuck..." he panted wildly. "Oh yeah... yeah... yeah... Oh God... Feels so good... Oh yeah... Oh yeah... Oh yeaaaaaahhh... aaahhh!... aaahhh!... aaahhh!... aaaahhh fuuuckkkk!" And then she felt all his teenage semen starting to flood out inside her.

She was weeping again as he lay trembling on top of her, his hoarse panting slowing subsiding. "Oh God..." he gasped at last, "that was fucking fantastic..." He grabbed one of her breasts with a trembling hand and squeezed it. "Fucking fantastic," he repeated wearily. "And I can... I can do it again as much as I want. 'Cause you... you gotta do everything I tell you." He let out a long, contented sigh and tightened his grip on her breast, snuggling himself down into her nakedness. "Oh God... I'll never waste time... jerking off again... Ohhhhhh fuck...!"

His dead weight kept her pressed down against the bed. She could feel his invading organ slowly softening inside her, feel his warm semen trickling slowly out of her bruised vagina. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. How did I get into this, she thought in helpless agony. I've just let a fourteen-year-old kid have sex with me. I've just broken the law. Why in God's name did I ever pose for those damned pictures? And why did he have to find them? Him of all people. Oh God!



CHAPTER 2

After what seemed an eternity he rolled off her and lay beside her on the bed. He propped himself up somewhat shakily on one elbow. "You're a great fuck, Mrs Jones." He smiled thinly. "The best I've ever had, seeing it was my first."

She blinked at him through her tears. "Can I... can I go now?" she begged. "You... you've got what you wanted, haven't you?"

"Nah," he said, reaching out and absentmindedly fondling one of her breasts, "you can't go yet. I wanna do it at least six more times before morning."

"Albert," she said desperately, "I can't stay here all night! What if my husband phones our home phone and I'm not there? What's he going to think?"

He grasped her nipple and pulled her breast up into a long cone, then released it and watched it flop back against her chest. "What's he gonna think if he gets more of those pictures, Mrs Jones?"

"Albert - please!" she begged. "I can't stay - I just can't!"

"Well..." he said slowly. He was pulling up her other breast now, stretching it higher and higher. "Maybe I could let you go home by midnight, if you do everything I want." He pulled harder at her nipple, making her wince. "Maybe..."

"A...Albert," she gasped, longing to grab at his tugging fingers but not daring to upset him. "Albert, I... owwww!... I'll do anything! But please say I can leave by ten. Please, Albert. Owwwwww!"

"Anything?" he said thoughtfully. He sat up on the bed and grabbed her other nipple, then began slowly pulling them both up as hard as he could. "Anything?"

"Ohhhhhh!" she gasped, her mouth gaping open and her eyes bulging as she fought to endure the pain. She gripped the sheets and arched her body high up on the bed, trying vainly to follow the relentless tugging at her breasts. "Oh God - yessssss!"

He released her abruptly, and she fell back down onto the bed with a sobbing groan of relief. "OK," he said shortly. "For now it's ten p.m. But each time you say no it'll be another hour before you can go home. Understand?"

"Y...yes, Albert," she gasped, rubbing at her bruised nipples, trying to ease the pain. "I'll do what you want. I won't say no."

"You better not. 'Cause if it's a bad enough no I'll just start sending messages. Got it?"

"Yes, Albert!" Her voice rose. "I've got it. I won't say no, OK?"

"Alllll right..." he said slowly. "Then here we go." He lay back down beside her and looked at her, propped up on his elbow again. His hand went once more to her breast. "Tell me about fucking. How many guys did you let fuck you before you met your husband?" His fingers massaged her soft flesh.

She felt her face starting to burn. "I..." She fell silent for a moment, but began again when he started to frown. "Two," she said hastily. "I slept with two guys before I met Rob."

His hand began sliding slowly down her naked body. "How old were you when the first guy fucked you?"

The tears were coming back - she could feel them stinging her eyes. "Seventeen," she whispered.

"Hah!" he grunted. "So you broke the law. How 'bout that, Mrs Only-My-Husband Jones?" His hand had reached her crotch by now. "How was it, the first time?"

It was hell, she thought savagely. He was drunk and it hurt and he tore my dress and I got his mess all over my clothes... "It wasn't much fun," she said dully.

His finger slid inside her wet vagina. "How about the second guy? Was he more fun?"

Eddie! In spite of his intruding finger she closed her eyes, remembering. Oh, the things he showed me... He was wonderful! For a moment the memories crowded out her present humiliation. "Oh yes - much better," she whispered.

His finger was moving in and out of her now. "Tell me about the best time you had with him. And make it real hot and sexy. I want it to get me hard again for my second fuck."

No, she screamed to herself, longing to jam her legs together but not daring. I can't make what happened between Eddie and me into a cheap porno story for a little pervert like you. It was too special, it...

"Eleven p.m.," he said suddenly.

Her eyes flew open. "What...?"

"Eleven p.m.," he repeated. "You took too long to get started, so now you gotta stay till eleven. And if you take any longer it'll be midnight."

"Oh God, Albert - please..."

His finger was making sloppy sucking sounds as it moved in and out of her semen-soaked vagina. "You want it to be midnight? Or one a.m.?"

"OK - OK," she said desperately. "He... we..." She stopped, and sucked in a deep shuddering breath. "It was after the college prom. I'd... I'd just turned eighteen. We drove out to a grassy spot beside the lake. It was warm, and when he started undressing me on the blanket I didn't feel cold at all. And we were both a little bit drunk."

"Keep talking." His finger was still moving.

"He... he started kissing my breasts. He... licked my nipples. And sucked them."

"You mean like this?" He leaned over to her and put his mouth on one of her breasts.

No, it wasn't like that at all, she thought despairingly. He was so wonderful and gentle and skillful, and I felt feelings like I'd never felt in my life before. All I feel now is turned off. And trapped. And horrible! "Yes, Albert," she whispered. "It was just like that."

He lifted his mouth from her breast. "Then what?"

"He... he slipped his hand down between my legs." She was trembling with shame and humiliation now, her voice so low that he could hardly hear her. "And then he started stroking my... around near my... my..." She stopped, unable to continue.

"Around near your pussy. Is that what you mean? Around near your cunt." His fingers entwined themselves in her pubic hair and began to tug gently. When she stayed silent he tugged again. "You want midnight? Or just some more messages to your husband?"

"All right!" she burst out. "Near my... my pussy! Satisfied now?"

"Nope," he said, tugging a little harder. "You sound too damn high and mighty for someone who's gotta do anything I tell them. Say 'cunt'. Finish the rest of the story and say 'cunt' all the way through."

She gave a small choking sob. "Albert, please..."

"This is your last warning, Mrs Jones. I'm getting kinda teed off with all these noes."

"Oh God." She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him, her shame total and complete. "I... he... He stroked me near my... my cunt. And then he slipped one finger up inside my cunt and... and played with my clitoris and..."

He interrupted her. "Did that make you horny?"

Oh God, she thought, it set my whole body on fire! It was like divine electricity. I've never felt anything like it before or since. "Yes, I got excited," she whispered. Just uttering the words seemed somehow to devalue the whole experience. She squeezed her eyes tighter and groaned softly.

"What did you do?" he insisted. "What kind of things did you do when you started getting horny?" His emphasis on the last word made it clear that he wanted her to say it. Then his finger found her clitoris and started clumsily stroking it.

"I... I guess I started moaning and... and writhing around on the blanket when I started getting... getting horny. I... I remember my hips started bouncing up and down..." God, this is so humiliating!

"Show me," he commanded. "Do it like you did it then." He kept slowly rubbing her clitoris.

Can this possibly get any worse, she thought desperately. Slowly and unwillingly she began lifting her hips up and down on the bed. "Ohhhh," she said mechanically. "Ahhhh... Ohhhh..."

"Faster," he said, rubbing her more urgently. "Do it faster. And louder."

"Mmmmfff!" she moaned, biting her lip and wincing at the painful clumsiness of his fingers. She began moving her hips up and down faster and faster, pounding her bare buttocks against the mattress. "Ahhh!" she said loudly. "Ahhh! Ohhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh!" Oh God, she thought despairingly, how long do I have to keep up this obscene charade? "Oooooo! Ahhh! Ohhhhhh!"

"Yes!" he shouted suddenly. "I'm hard again! And I've got you horny too - I can tell!" He scrambled urgently on top of her, fumbling with his penis at the mouth of her vagina. "Wrap your legs around me," he panted. "And your arms. Claw my back - like in those cable movies! Oh God - do it!"

She moved under him like an automaton, following his instructions as best she could, digging her heels into his buttocks and her fingernails into his back. "Oh yes!" he shouted, humping wildly up and down on top of her. "I love it! Oh God! And this time... I won't shoot my load... right away... Maybe last... five minutes!... Oh God, squeeze me tighter! Claw me some more! Oh yes... Oh yes... Oh yes!"

His groin was slapping violently against hers now, his penis pounding her tender vagina again and again, his whole body immersed in the sex act. He panted and moaned and writhed and howled on top of her, and she lay under him with her body jerking at every thrust and her arms and legs mechanically doing what he wanted. She was just starting to believe that it was going to go on forever when he suddenly let out a scream. "Yeeeeeess!" he yelled. "I'm comiiiinnnnngggg! Oh yeeeeessssss!"

Dear God, she thought despairingly, feeling even more warm teenage semen flooding into her abused vagina, how long is this going to last? How long have I got to be a sex toy for this little monster? She tightened her arms mechanically around his trembling body and tried not to sob out loud. What in heaven's name am I going to do?

As his gasping and panting began to slow she sneaked a quick glance at her watch. Oh God, she thought, appalled - it's only just after seven. I've got another four hours of this! And I think my vagina's red raw already! She cast around frantically for something to distract him. "Albert," she whispered hesitantly, forcing the words out, trying to sound as if being raped by a fourteen-year-old was the most natural thing in the world, "it's... it's getting late. Aren't you hungry?"

"What...?" he gasped wearily. "What'd you say?"

"It's after seven. Don't you... don't you want something to eat?"

He squirmed slowly and languidly on top of her. "Nah," he sighed. "It's too much fun being right here." His hand closed around one of her breasts and began to squeeze. Then his hips began moving lazily up and down against her wet groin.

He can't be, she thought incredulously. He can't possibly be ready to do it again! Oh God!

"Oh shit," he moaned tiredly, "I'm all fucked out. It'll be at least an hour before I can get it up again." His hand tightened on her breast. "You sure know how to fuck, Mrs Jones. How many times a night do you do it when you... when your husband's home?"

No, her mind screamed. I can't talk about... about me and Rob. Not to HIM! A small involuntary sob escaped her. "Oh God," she whispered.

"Did you just say no, Mrs Jones?" His tone was less sleepy now.

"Albert, please - I..."

He rolled off her abruptly and stood up beside the bed. His young face was suddenly dark with anger. "You don't believe me, do you?" he almost shouted. "You think I'm just some stupid little kid who won't do what he says he's gonna do. Well, I'll show you!" And he moved unsteadily but rapidly towards the computer.

"Noooooooo!" she screamed, scrambling off the bed and launching herself frantically at him. "Oh God, Albert, please," she gabbled, "please, please, please don't send those messages!" She grabbed at his bare legs before he could swing them under the desk, then started urgently kissing his chest, his stomach, his thighs. "Please, Albert, I'll do anything. Anything!" Her trembling fingers quickly found his flaccid penis and cradled it, and she sank her face into his crotch. "Please, Albert," she gasped, closing her mouth desperately around the sticky wet tip of his organ. "I'll..." [lick, lick, suck, suck] "...I'll do anything, Albert..." [suck, lick, lick, suck] "...Please, Albert - oh God, please..." [suck, slurp, lick, lick, slurp, slurp, suck...]

She felt his fingers tightening in her hair. Maybe he hasn't sent them yet, she thought wildly. Maybe I wasn't too late. She redoubled her efforts and heard him groan: "Oh shit... that's too much! Oh fuck!"

But his organ was still slack between her fingers. She began frantically rubbing up and down the limp shaft, urgently fondling his testicles, sucking and licking and kissing the head of his penis. If I can just get him hard again, she thought desperately, just make him come again - then maybe he won't send them. Oh God!

Then his fingers were tugging at her hair, pulling her head up out of his lap, tipping her face back to look at him. He looked down at her for a long moment and then gave a tired smile. "Nice try, Mrs Jones," he said, "but you've fucked me dry. It's not gonna get up for a while yet."

"You didn't send them, did you?" she gasped desperately. "I'll do anything if you don't send them."

"Nah, I didn't send them," he said slowly. "I got kinda distracted." Then as she sagged with relief he went on: "But you didn't do what I said, Mrs Jones. You didn't tell me about you and your husband fucking. So there's gotta be some payback."

She stared up at him. "What... what do you mean?" she asked weakly.

He was fondling her breasts again. "You're a teacher," he said softly. "You oughta know. What do you do to students who don't do what they're told?"

Her head spun. What did he want? "You mean... demerits? Time out...?" She stopped, baffled.

"Nah," he said scornfully. "I don't mean all that bleeding-heart goody-goody shit you guys throw at us these days. I mean like they used to do, in the old days. You know." He began gently flicking one of her nipples with his fingernail.

She felt herself starting to go cold all over. Suddenly she did know. "Albert," she stammered, "you don't mean... corporal punishment?"

"Yeah - that's right, Mrs Jones. That's what I mean. Pull their pants down and cane them type of stuff. Yeah." His smile was harder now.

She kept staring up at him. "Oh God," she whispered, appalled.

"Of course if you'd rather I just sent the messages..." He began to reach for the mouse.

"No!" She clawed at his wrist. She was crying now. "Please, Albert. I'll... I'll let you do what you want. Please don't send the messages. Please!"

He stopped, his hand still on the mouse, looking at her. "You've been telling me you'll do anything. Haven't you?"

She nodded through her tears. "Yes," she whispered brokenly.

"So prove it." He pointed to the desk. "Pick up that big plastic ruler."

She struggled up onto her knees, the desk blurring in front of her through her tears. She followed the direction of his pointing finger and groped almost blindly for the heavy ruler. Then she stayed on her knees on the floor in front of him, holding the ruler out towards him like a naked supplicant before a deity. The tears kept pouring down her cheeks.

He looked at her without expression. "Say: 'I didn't do what I was told. I've been bad. Please beat my naughty ass.' "

Her lower lip trembled. "I... I didn't do what I was told," she said, weeping. "I've been bad. Please beat my n...naughty ass. Oh God!"

"Louder," he commanded. "I can't hear you."

"P...please beat my naughty ass!"

"Louder!"

"PLEASE B...BEAT MY NAUGHTY ASS!"

He smiled wolfishly and took the ruler out of her trembling hands. "I'd love to, Mrs Jones." He stood up. "C'mon. The sofa's the best place." Then he paused in the doorway, looking back at her. "Why don't you crawl all the way out here, to show me that you're real, real sorry for being so bad."

She stared at his retreating nakedness through her tears. Why, she thought despairingly. Why did all this have to happen to me? For God's sake, why? All I did was pose for a few lousy pictures...

His voice came from the open doorway. "I'm waiting, Mrs Jones."

With a stifled sob she got down on all fours and began crawling slowly towards him. The carpet felt rough on her knees and palms, and she could feel her bare breasts dangling and swaying under her as she moved. He moved ahead of her and sat down on the sofa. "Faster," he commanded.

She obeyed, feeling her pelvis starting to move rapidly from side to side and her breasts sway and wobble even more obscenely as she speeded up. She stopped at his feet, panting with exertion, and found herself staring at his groin. His penis lay slack and unresponsive between his thighs, still wet and glistening. If only I could get him hard again, she thought desperately. If I could just make him come once more he'd be so wiped out that he mightn't...

He interrupted her thoughts. "Get up here on the sofa. Put your arms on this end..." He pointed the ruler at one of the armrests. "...and lay over the top of me with your ass sticking up. And if you say no just once more tonight..."

The threat was enough. Before she knew what she was doing she was scrambling up on top of him, quickly stretching her naked body out along the sofa, hastily resting her folded arms on one end. She lay facing away from him, trembling and gripping the armrest, tensing for the first blow. Then she jumped as he started to fondle her cringing buttocks.

"Nice," he said. "Soft. Soft and smooth and white. What's hubby gonna say when you come home with them all red and stripy?"

She let out a strangled sob.

"What was that?" he said sharply. "Was that a no?"

"It wasn't a no," she said desperately. "Oh God, I didn't say no. Please, I didn't say no!"

"Then what did you say?" His fingers were digging deep into her buttocks now, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. Then his hand made its way down between her thighs, groping for her vagina. "What did you say, Mrs Jones?"

"I... I said yes. Please, Albert, I said yes. I said please beat me. Oh God."

His fingers probed deeper, making her shudder on top of him. "Please beat my naughty ass?"

"Yes, yes! Please beat my naughty ass. I... I want you to beat my naughty ass."

Suddenly his hand was gone. And then, almost before she could register, the first blow fell, hard and stinging across her right buttock. "Owwwwwww!" she screamed, bucking and jerking on his lap. "Oh God! Albert, please, that... that HURT!"

"You expected love taps?" He hit her even harder with the ruler on her left buttock and she shrieked again. Then he started flailing at her in earnest, on her bottom, her hips, her upper thighs. "You thought -" [whack! whack!] "- it wouldn't hurt? -" [whack! whack! whack!] "- You thought -" [whack! whack! whack! whack!] "- it'd be some kinda picnic? -" [whack! whack! whack! whack! whack!] "You thought..."

She was screaming herself hoarse by now, eyes bulging and mouth gaping open, writhing and jerking and thrashing around on top of him, with only the clamp of his left arm around her waist preventing her from throwing herself to the floor. "You thought!..." he shouted, hitting and hitting and hitting her. "You thought - you thought - you thought!..."

At last he stopped, panting and exhausted. Her jerking and screaming continued for some moments until she finally registered that the punishment had ended. "Ohhhhh!" she sobbed brokenly, her buttocks a mass of throbbing pain. "Oh God! Ohhhhhhhh!"

"You... you still think it... it ain't gonna hurt?" he panted, still trembling under her. "You still think that, Mrs Jones?"

"Ohhhh... oh God," she wept. "W...why did you hurt me so much, Albert?" Why did I let him, she thought unbelievingly, through the haze of pain. I'm almost as physically strong as he is. Why didn't I just say enough and get off him? But even as she asked herself the question she knew the answer. He was holding all the cards.

His fingers touched her burning buttocks again and she screamed and jerked on top of him. "Oh God, Albert, no more - please! I couldn't endure any more. Please!"

"You saying no again?" he asked incredulously.

"I..." Her heart sank with despair. If she said no he'd send his horrible messages; if she didn't say no he'd go on hurting her. She sought desperately to find some other way to distract him, to please him. She took a deep breath and slowly started moving her hips on top of his lap, thrusting her pubes down against his crotch, forcing her abused body to respond. "Albert," she gasped, as she squirmed slowly on top of him, "aren't you getting... getting hard now? Don't you... don't you want me again?" You horrible little monster, she thought exhaustedly. Is this how you get it up again? Oh God.

He didn't respond. She frantically redoubled her efforts, rubbing herself urgently against his thighs, thrusting her crotch down against his, again and again. Please God, she prayed, please let him get it up. Please let him get hard. Anything but more beating! And then suddenly, with a dreadful awful clarity, she became fully aware of her situation. Here she was, a respectable twenty-eight-year-old married woman, wriggling around naked on a fourteen-year-old's lap, begging him to have sex with her. How could she possibly have fallen so far, in just a few hours? She gripped the armrest of the sofa with both hands and wept.

Then she felt his hand rest lightly on her sore buttocks and she gasped from the pain. "Sure looks good, Mrs Jones," he said slowly. "That stripy red ass of yours sure looks good bouncing up and down on top of me." Then he gave an exhausted sigh. "But I'm not anything like hard again yet. As soon as I get my breath back we'll give you a few more lickings."

Oh God - no, she thought desperately. There has to be some way to stop him - there must be! Her mind raced frantically, grasping wildly at possibilities, discarding them. "A...Albert," she gasped desperately. "The... the noise. All this noise. Me screaming and everything. You... you wouldn't want someone calling the police. D...don't you think we should stop?"

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully, pinching her still-burning flesh and making her cry out again. "Who do you think's gonna get into the most trouble if the cops come? Here's you, willingly in my apartment, bare ass naked, letting a fourteen-year-old kid fuck you twice - they call that statutory rape or something, don't they? - and along with that, there are those pinup pics to show what a slut you are..."

"But you've beaten me," she interrupted desperately. "They'll be able to see that! They'll know..."

"So you're a pain slut. Your husband's away all the time and you're horny. You convince one of your stupid little fourteen-year-old students to fuck you and fuck you, and when he can't get it up any more you tell him to paddle your ass to make himself hard again. I mean, it's not like you're tied up or anything - you could climb off me any time you like." He pinched her once more and she yelped from the pain. "I dunno who'd win in court, Mrs Jones, but it sure wouldn't look too good for you."

"But if you keep beating me," she wailed in despair, "then I'll keep screaming - I can't help it. And then the police WILL come - I know they will! Please, Albert."

"Hah!" he grunted. "Then if you don't want the cops to come you better learn how to stop screaming. Let's practice." And before she could react he gave her a quick vicious cut across her left buttock.

"Arrrrrrrgh!" she screamed, convulsing on top of him. "Al...Albert, please," she blubbered. "I c...c...can't keep quiet, I just can't! Oh please stop it - before someone calls the police. Please!"

"Oh hell," he said impatiently. "Then bite down on this." She felt something soft being shoved against her face and realized it was a sofa cushion. "You ready for the next one?" he asked warningly.

She frantically stuffed one edge of the cushion into her mouth and bit down hard on it. He was hitting her again almost before she had done it. "Mmmmffff!" she screamed into the cushion, bucking and jerking on top of him. "Ummmmmm! Aaaaummmfff! Mummmmmffff!!" Then before she knew it she was tumbling onto the floor at his feet, the cushion still hooked between her teeth.

She lay there for some moments, exhausted and sobbing uncontrollably. Finally she lifted her tear-soaked face up out of the cushion and looked up at him. "A...A...Albert," she gasped brokenly, "I... I just can't take any more. Oh God, I just can't take it! P...please, for pity's sake, please don't hit me any more. Please!"

He kept looking down at her impassively. How can a fourteen-year-old have such a cruel face, she thought hopelessly. Is this really the same shy gawky kid who's been following me around at school? Oh God! She sucked in a shuddering breath and tried again. "Albert, she gasped, "even with the cushion I... I'm still making such a lot of noise, aren't I? You... you don't really want the police to come, do you?"

His face split open in a slow smile. "Mrs Jones," he said softly, "for a smart schoolteacher you sure are dumb." He waved one arm around the apartment. "Listen up," he said.

She stared up at him, not understanding. "W...what you mean?" she faltered at last. "What...?"

"Hear anything?" he asked, still smiling. "Can you hear the traffic? The elevators? Any damn thing at all?"

She just kept staring at him, her brain frozen. All she could think about was the incredible burning pain in her buttocks. What did he...?

"This whole apartment's soundproofed, Mrs Jones." His smile was almost pitying at her lack of understanding. "When we moved in here, my dad said there was no way he was gonna have the neighbors complaining about my heavy metal. So he paid to have the whole place done. Didn't you notice how thick the front door is? And the sealing all around it?"

Understanding slowly penetrated her pain. Her first reaction was one of relief. The police won't come after all. Thank God! But then her mind kept slowly working and she looked up at him with dawning horror. "B...but that means..."

"Yeah." The smile showed all of his teeth. "It means I can paddle the crap out of you, and even if you scream your lungs out no one outside is gonna hear a damned thing. Isn't that neat?"

Utter despair flooded her. The pain was going to go on. On and on and on. If she said no he was going to send the pictures to her husband and her boss. If she didn't say no he was going to keep beating her and beating her until she screamed herself hoarse. Before she knew what she was doing she was clutching frenziedly at his ankles, kissing and kissing his toes and his feet. "Albert, I... I beg you - I implore you! If you've... if you've got any scrap of human pity in you, then please, please, please don't hurt me any more. I...I'll die, I know I will. I'll just die!" Her face sagged down against his feet and she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. "Pleeeease, Albert. PLEEEEEEASE! For God's sake..."

"Mrs Jones..." His voice sounded almost gentle. "Why don't you use your brain for a change?" He paused. "How come I started doing this in the first place?"

How come? Her exhausted mind struggled to grasp his question. Because you're a cruel perverted little monster who's getting his kicks out of seeing how much he can hurt me. Because you want to have more sex with me, but you can't get your damned whanger stiff again without doing all this. Because... And then at last she remembered. It seemed an eternity ago, but she remembered. "Because I wouldn't tell you about... about having sex with my husband," she whispered.

"Right. So waddaya think you gotta do to make it stop?"

"Oh God." She longed for the courage, the physical strength, to refuse. But there was nothing left. She was utterly empty and drained and defeated. Oh Rob, forgive me, her mind cried out in agony. "OK, Albert," she said wearily, "I'll tell you. I tell you what you want."

"About you and your husband fucking?"

Oh Rob, my darling - I'm so sorry! "Yes, Albert, I'll tell you about... about me and my husband fucking." Her voice was almost inaudible against his feet.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Well maybe you will and maybe you won't. You sure have got a habit of saying no." He moved his feet under her face, pushing her away from him. "Get back up here, so I can kinda encourage you if you forget what you promised."

She looked up at him again, fear and faint hope warring with each other inside her. "You... you won't hurt me any more if I tell you?"

"You gonna tell me everything?"

"Yes, Albert."

"You gonna make it all hot and sexy? You gonna use all the right words, like fuck and dick and cunt and clit and tits and ass and squirting cum?"

Oh God. "Yes, Albert."

"Then I'll leave that red ass of yours alone. But you gotta say it all laying on top of me. Get up here."

She got up slowly and painfully off the floor and, still looking at him fearfully, climbed back across his lap. Her aching buttocks felt incredibly vulnerable. She could feel them trembling.

"Just a minute," he muttered. He shifted under her, along the sofa. "That's better," he said with satisfaction. "Now I can reach your tits AND your ass." He reached under her with his left hand, groping for her dangling breasts, then rested his other hand on her buttocks. "Now get started."

She gasped from the touch of his fingers against her sore flesh. "Albert, you promised!"

"Just making sure you do it like you said." He slowly stroked her trembling buttocks, making her gasp again. "Do you like it when your husband fucks you?"

Oh Rob! "Yes, I like it when he... when he fucks me."

"I can't hear you. Turn your face around this way. And keep your eyes open."

She obeyed him, cradling her cheek on her folded arms. She took a deep breath and said it again, louder this time. "Yes, I like it when he fucks me."

"Does he fuck as good as that second guy you told me about, that you said was so great?"

Oh God, she thought. You little deviant - do I have to bare my whole soul? "N...no," she admitted reluctantly, "he doesn't... fuck as well as Eddie did."

His fingers tightened on her buttocks. "Keep your eyes open, I said. Then why didn't you marry Eddie instead?"

"Albert - please!" she gasped, wriggling to evade him. "B...because I found out that Eddie was... was fucking almost every other girl in the college."

"So your husband's only a second rate fuck?"

Oh Rob, Rob, Rob! How can I be doing this to you? To us! "He... he's a good husband," she burst out defensively. "He's gentle and loving and generous. And I love him very much." And she suddenly burst into tears. "Oh God, Albert, why are you making me do this? Why?"

"Because you promised. And like I thought, you're already saying no again." He twisted under her. "Where's that damned ruler?"

"No!" she screamed. "I'll tell you - I'll tell you everything, I swear it!"

"Well, I've got the ruler now. Just in case you forget again." He ran it across her buttocks and she cried out. "Tell me about when he gets back from a business trip. Tell me everything from when he gets in the door to when you finish fucking for the night. And if it isn't the hottest sexiest story I've ever heard..."

"OK, OK," she said frantically. "I'll tell you - I promise." She took a deep breath and then started talking quickly, desperate to keep the hateful ruler from moving against her burning buttocks. "He... he... When he comes to the door I run to him and hug him and give him a big long kiss..."

He interrupted her. "Does he grab you around the ass when he hugs you? Can you feel his hard dick pressing up against your cunt through his pants?" His left hand started fondling her dangling breasts.

"Sometimes," she admitted reluctantly. She could feel her face beginning to burn. She longed to close her eyes, but she forced herself to keep them open. "If he's been away on a long trip I can sometimes feel his... his hard dick when I press up against him."

"With your cunt."

Her face burned hotter. "Yes - with my... my cunt." Oh God.

"Go on. Does he start playing with your tits while he's kissing you?"

"No, not then. He... he usually doesn't start playing with them - with my... my tits - until later. Until after supper."

"Well cut all the crap about welcome home darling and how was the trip and having supper and stuff like that. Just tell me about the action."

Doesn't anything else matter to you, she thought despairingly. She could feel the tears starting again. She blinked rapidly, not allowing her eyes to stay shut long enough to anger him. "He... he usually sits on the sofa, to unwind and watch some TV. I... I bring him an after supper drink and sit down beside him, and then he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. And he usually says, 'You're so nice to come home to, sweetheart.' "

"I told you - cut the crap," he said warningly.

Oh God. "He... he starts kissing me," she said quickly. "He... puts his tongue inside my mouth and we french kiss for a while, and then he starts cupping one of my breasts..."

His hand tightened on her dangling breast. "Yeah," he breathed. "This is more like it. Keep going."

She was speaking faster now, spurred on by his approval, desperate to keep his mind off the hated ruler. "He slips one hand up under my... my blouse. And then he slides his fingers under the bottom edge of my bra and slowly pushes it up over my... my breasts. I mean, my tits. Oh God, I'm sorry, Albert, I meant to say tits. And while he's doing that he rubs his elbow down between my legs..."

"On your cunt."

"O...on my cunt. And he keeps deep kissing me while he slides my blouse up until both of my... my tits are uncovered, and then he moves his face down and starts kissing and sucking my nipples..."

He started pulling at her nipples. "Does that make them stick out?" He pulled harder.

"Owwww!" she wailed. "Yes, yes," she gasped desperately, "it makes my nipples stick out. They... they stick right out when he kisses them and sucks them. Please, Albert! Owwwww!"

He finally released her. "Then what?"

"Then I usually start undoing his tie and... and unbuttoning his shirt. And I usually say, 'Darling, let's go to bed.' Then we... we..." She stopped, choking back a sob. "Then we... Then we... Ohhhhhh GOD!" And she dissolved into tears.

"You stopped!" he shouted. "I knew you would. I damn well knew it!" The ruler slashed down across her buttocks and she let out a sharp shriek of pain. "You won't do any damn thing I tell you! Just when the story's starting to get hot and I'm starting to get hard you fucking stop!" He began hitting her repeatedly, as hard as he could. "Fucking bitch!" he yelled. "Fucking bitch! Fucking BITCH!"

"Aaaaaaaahhhh!" she howled. "Albert, no! I'll... owwwwww! ...I'll tell you, Albert, I swear I will, I... Aiiieeeeeeeee! Owwwwww! AAAAGGGGHHHHH!"

Finally he stopped, breathing heavily. "You lying bitch," he panted. "I'm gonna go send all those messages right now." He started to get up off the sofa, pushing her off him.

"NOOOOOO!" she screamed, still sobbing. She clung to the armrest, forcing her body back down against the sofa, struggling to prevent him getting up. "Albert - pleeeeease! Oh God - PLEEEEEEASE!"

There was a short silence, broken only by her desolate sobbing and his heavy breathing. Then he spoke. "Last chance," he said. He sounded tired and almost disgusted. "If you blow it again, Mrs Jones..."

"Oh God, I'll tell you, Albert - I'll tell you," she gabbled. "We... we go to the bedroom. See, I'm telling you, Albert. Please, please, I'm telling you, I really am. We... we both get undressed and we lie down on the bed, and he takes me in his arms and he presses his naked body up against mine. And I feel his... his hard dick pressing up against me." She paused, slowly starting to calm down again, still gulping back her sobs. "And then he kisses my breasts again - I mean, my tits. And my nipples are really erect by now - s...sticking out. And then he starts kissing my tummy and he runs his hand down between my legs and slides his fingers up inside my... my cunt, and..."

"Do you play with his dick?" he interrupted.

"No... no, I don't. See, I'm telling you everything, Albert, I really am, I..."

"Why not?"

"B...because he... he might..." She closed her eyes again, trying not to sob. "...because he might have a premature - I mean, he might start squirting his... his cum before he gets inside my... my cunt. Oh God."

"Before he shoves his dick inside your cunt, you mean."

"Yes," she whispered miserably. Oh Rob, she thought, how can I ever face you again? "Before he shoves his dick inside my cunt."

"Tell me again," he insisted. "Say the whole thing. Tell me why you don't play with his dick."

Oh God. "I... I don't play with his dick," she faltered, "because if I do he might... he might start squirting his cum before he... before he shoves his dick inside my cunt..." She squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to block out the wrenching sense of shame. She wanted more than anything else in the world to stop talking, to stop saying all the filthy words, but the pain and the fear drove her on.

"Go on. And keep your eyes open - I told you that already."

"Then he starts rubbing my... my clit, and sliding his fingers right up inside my... my cunt. And I start getting... getting horny and moaning and squirming around on the bed..." Oh God - don't make me show you, she thought desperately. Not like you did before - please!

"Does your cunt start getting wet when you get horny?"

"Yes," she whispered. "It - my cunt - starts getting all warm and wet, when he... when he plays with my clit."

"Does the wet stuff start running out of it?"

"I don't know," she said wretchedly. Her misery was total. "I... I've never looked."

His sudden sharp bark of laughter startled her. "Hell - that's good," he said. "You don't look at your own cunt when your husband's playing with your clit. That's so good, Mrs Jones - I love it!"

She felt her face burning with humiliation. "We do it with the lights out," she whispered.

"Do it? What's that mean?" His amusement was replaced by an equally sudden annoyance.

"We... we fuck with the lights out," she said hastily, desperate to placate him. "Oh God."

"Yeah, well you haven't got that far yet. Tell me the rest of it. And don't forget - real hot and sexy."

Somehow she held her eyes open, fighting against the overwhelming urge to jam them shut. The tears were pouring down her face. I can't do this any more, she thought hopelessly. I can't keep saying all these filthy things - I just can't! Then she felt the ruler lift up off her buttocks. "No!" she screamed. "I'm telling you, Albert. I'm telling you, I'm telling you, I'm TELLING you!" She took a desperate breath. Where had she got to? "We... he... he keeps playing with my clit and sliding his fingers in and out of my... my cunt. And I get... get hornier and hornier, until sometimes I'm bouncing around so much that he can hardly keep his fingers inside me - inside my cunt. And then when I can't stand it any longer I grab his shoulders and drag him on top of me and..."

His breathing was coming faster now. She could feel him stirring underneath her, lifting his hips up and down on the sofa. "Yeah... yeah... yeah..." he panted, his fingers closing hard on her dangling breasts. The other hand dug deep into her aching buttocks, making her cry out. "Keep talking," he gasped. "Keep telling me. Don't stop now!" The hand tightened on her squirming buttocks.

"Owwwww!" she wailed, trying vainly to wriggle out from under the bruising fingers. "He... he puts the head of his... dick against the mouth of my cunt and he pushes it right in. Then he falls down on top of me and grabs one of my... my tits and then he starts pumping his dick in and out of my cunt!" Her voice rose as his fingers tightened even more on her smarting buttocks. "Then he... he pumps faster and faster and he grabs me under the... under my ass and pushes his... his dick right up inside my cunt as far as he can and he yells 'I love you,' over and over again. And then he groans and I feel his... his cum start squirting out inside my cunt! Oh God, Albert, you're HURTING meeeeeee!"

"Oh fuck!" He was almost shouting, heaving his hips wildly up and down under her, digging his fingers heedlessly again and again into her pain-filled buttocks. "And I've got the same sexy bitch that he has! And I've fucked the same hole that he did! And I can do it and do it as much as I waaaaaant! Oh God!"

Then with shocking abruptness he stopped moving. "It's still not hard enough," he said disgustedly. "I still can't get off. Shit!"

"Oh God," she sobbed. "You hurt me! You said you wouldn't hurt me if I told you everything, and I told you everything and you still hurt me."

"I couldn't help it," he said defensively. "You made me so damned hot and horny." He paused, and then went on. "So - do you come when he fucks you like that?"

"What...?" she asked dazedly, still crying.

He repeated his question. She felt the shame start flooding back, even as the pain in her buttocks began to lessen. "I..."

"Mrs Jones," he said warningly, "don't make me ask you again."

She felt the flush coursing through her face, felt it flooding down to her neck and chest. "No," she whispered miserably. "He does it too quickly. I mean, he f...fucks me too quickly." Oh Rob, she thought in agony, is there anything left to betray?

"So waddaya do then? Go away and jerk yourself off in the bathroom?"

"We spoon," she muttered miserably.

"What?" he asked, baffled. "What the hell's that?"

"I... I lie down on my side. And then he snuggles in against my back." She looked up at him anxiously. "You know - like two spoons in a drawer." She hesitated, still flushed with shame. "And then he... he reaches around me and grabs one of my tits. And then I start wriggling my... my ass against his dick, trying to make him hard again. And if he's not too tired, sometimes he does get hard again, and then we f...fuck again and he does it more slowly, and then sometimes I come."

"So," he said slowly, "most of the time you don't come. He comes but you don't."

She muttered something he couldn't hear. "What was that?" he demanded.

"I said," she repeated wearily, "that's the way of the world. Men mostly do and women mostly don't. And that's just the way it is."

"But you still love the guy?" His tone was unbelieving. "He fucks you and hardly ever gets you off, but you still love him? How come?"

Just for a moment her anger flared, overcoming her fear and hopelessness and pain. "There's more to life than just orgasms!" she burst out heatedly. "It feels good when he loves me, even when I don't... I don't..." Suddenly she didn't care about what he might to do to her. "And I told you - he's a good man! He's good and gentle and generous and kind..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, sounding bored. "You said all that shit before." He stood up abruptly, pitching her without warning onto the floor. "All I know is, my dick rules my life. If I can't jerk off to it..." He stopped, then looked down at her and leered. "...or fuck it, then it doesn't count." Then he stepped over her, his semi-flaccid penis dangling loosely in front of him. "I'm gonna go to the john. When I come back you can fix me that supper you talked about. Maybe I can get hard again after that."

She lay sprawled on the floor, her sudden anger gone. What have I done, she thought dazedly. Oh Rob, what have I done: to you - to me - to our relationship? She rested her cheek against the roughness of the carpet and closed her eyes and began to cry again, quietly and hopelessly. And I didn't even get the little bastard hard!



CHAPTER 3

She slowly became aware that someone was prodding one of her buttocks. That's strange, she thought groggily - why does it hurt? Rob, don't be so rough - that's hurting me... Then her eyes flew open and she gave a small scream as she saw the naked teenager bending over her.

"Hey," he said brutally, "who told you to go to sleep? It's time to fix that supper you were talking about. I'm hungry."

Her mind whirled - assimilating... adjusting... remembering... She blinked up at him, and then felt the fear and hopelessness slowly starting to return. "W...what...?" she mumbled stupidly.

"The supper," he repeated impatiently. "After I fucked you the second time you said you were gonna make me some supper. So go make it. Don't keep me waiting, Mrs Jones."

Oh God. The fear was back now, in full force. The messages, she thought. If I don't do what he says he'll send the messages! She scrambled hastily to her feet, ignoring the dull pain in her buttocks in her urgency to appease him, and started almost running back towards his bedroom.

"Hey," he called to her retreating back, "why're you going in there? The kitchen's that way."

She stopped, confused. "My clothes..." she began.

He smiled at her. "You don't need clothes to make supper. You're bare ass naked for the rest of the night, Mrs Jones."

She felt her face growing hot. Without thinking, her hands moved to cover her crotch and breasts. "Stop that!" he said sharply. "You got anything I haven't seen already?"

Her shoulders sagged. "No," she whispered, letting her hands fall limply by her sides. "Oh God." She started to move, slowly and listlessly, towards the door he had indicated.

"Just a second." His voice stopped her again. "Maybe there is something you could wear."

It was just a small flicker of hope, some little delivery from her present humiliation. She was just opening her mouth to thank him when he went on: "Go get your shoes - those black high heels you came in. You'll look good in those."

She stumbled blindly back into the bedroom, face burning, trembling with humiliation. You little bastard, she raged to herself. Bastard, bastard, bastard! She found the shoes under her scattered clothing, pulled them on with shaking fingers, stumbled back out the door to face him. Bastard!

He was sitting in an armchair. His smile widened as she came out of the door. "Neat," he said. "Turn around and let me see that red ass."

She stood with her back to him, trembling, with the humiliation and fear and hopelessness churning around inside her. She blinked rapidly to try to hold back the tears. "Looks good," he said from behind her. "All red and stripy. Still hurting?"

"Yes," she muttered. You little bastard, she thought. Oh God!

"What was that?" he demanded. "I didn't hear you. Turn around and say it again."

She turned. She could see his penis starting to swell at last, starting to lift up between his thighs. Yes, she thought bitterly, that's how you get off, all right. By hurting and humiliating me! "Yes, Albert," she said, "it's still hurting."

"So you won't say no any more, will you?"

"No, Albert," she said wearily. "I won't say no any more."

"OK, Mrs Jones - go to the kitchen. And hurry it up."

"Albert..." She hesitated, not wanting to anger him again. "Albert, I need to..." She gestured towards her crotch and flushed deeply. "...I need to go to the bathroom and... and clean up. Before I start touching food."

His eyes focused on her groin. "Yeah?" he said eagerly. "Lemme see. Come over here and lemme see."

She closed her eyes. Oh God, she thought wearily, aren't you going to leave me anything - any privacy, any dignity? Do you have to have it all?

"Mrs Jones - I'm waiting."

With a small sob she lurched forward, stumbling towards him. "Closer," he demanded. As she obeyed him, standing trembling in front of him, he reached out and lightly brushed her pubic hair. "That's my cum," he said wonderingly. He looked up at her. "That's my cum running out of your cunt. And down your legs. I did that! Neato!" He sat back in the chair. "Leave it like that," he said. "I like it. It looks good on you." He smiled as his penis hardened further. "I'd sure like to add another load right now, Mrs Jones, but I'm getting real hungry. Go make the supper quick so I can fuck you again real soon." As she moved away he called after her: "And don't get any of my cum on the pizza!" Then he laughed.

She was crying again by the time she reached the kitchen. "Bastard!" she whispered under her breath. "You filthy disgusting little bastard - I hope you rot in hell forever!" She looked around the unfamiliar room, blinking through her tears, and found the refrigerator. "...Rot in hell," she repeated as she pulled open the door of the freezer compartment and peered in, looking for the pizza. The cold air fell down over her bare breasts and onto her feet, and she shivered. "...Rot in hell... Rot in hell," she whispered viciously. She was chanting it like a mantra now under her breath as she struggled to pull out the flat cardboard package, trying to glean some tiny crumb of comfort from her secret rebellion. "...Rot in hell... Rot in hell... Rot in hell..."

"What're you mumbling about, Mrs Jones?" His voice came unexpectedly from behind her, making her jump. She whirled around to find him standing in the doorway and she gave a sudden gasp, almost dropping the pizza.

"A...Albert!" She swallowed nervously, her rebellion ended almost as soon as it began. "I... I... I don't know where anything is," she stammered. "Where... where's the microwave?"

He sat down at the kitchen table. "Over there," he said, pointing impatiently. "On the bench. Where the fuck else would it be?"

She was very aware of his eyes on her naked body as she opened the package and put the pizza in the microwave. "You look great, Mrs Jones," he said suddenly. "All kitchen maids oughta be dressed like that. Earrings - wristwatch - high heels - nice red ass. And lots of fresh cum running out of their cunts."

Her face burned again. She clenched her fists, keeping her back to him, trembling with the effort of staying silent. Then she reached up and viciously punched the buttons on the microwave. She took several deep breaths and turned around slowly to face him. "Supper will be ready in five minutes, Albert." She was amazed at how steady her voice was.

He kept looking at her. "There's something missing," he said at last. He got up abruptly and walked out of the room. "Don't go away."

Go away, she thought hopelessly. Where would I go? Back to the bedroom so you can rape me again? Back to the sofa so you can beat me again? Oh God! She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the bench behind her with both hands.

He was back so soon that the pizza still wasn't ready. "Here," he said, holding up a piece of paper. It was crudely cut into some design which she didn't recognize. "It's a maid's cap." His smile was mocking. "For my kitchen maid. Bend down so I can stick it in your hair."

She leaned forward wordlessly. She kept staring at his bare feet on the kitchen floor as he fumbled in her hair, trying to clip the paper in place with a few paper clips. She winced as he pulled roughly at her hair. "Stay there, damn you," he muttered.

At last he was satisfied. He sat back down at the table. "Stand up straight," he commanded. "Maids stand at attention while they're waiting for their next order."

The microwave beeped as she straightened up. OK, you little bastard, she thought grimly, I'll follow your orders literally. I'll just stand here and let your pizza get cold until you think to tell me what to do...

He raised one eyebrow. "So?" he said. "Why are you just standing there, dummy? Go get my fucking supper."

She was trembling as she turned towards the microwave. Bastard, she thought again. She could feel the crude paper cap rustle in her hair. She clattered the hot pizza out onto the bench and began running the cutter back and forth across it, still shaking with anger and humiliation. Then she heard him humming softly under his breath behind her. It took her a moment or two to recognize the tune. It was 'Everybody Ought to Have a Maid.'

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, she thought bitterly. Oh God - how funny can you get?

He was singing the words now, slightly off key. "...Sleeping out, sleeping in..." Then she felt a sudden sharp pain across one throbbing buttock and she yelped and jerked upright, almost throwing the pizza onto the floor. "Albert!" she protested desperately, twisting around to face him, "I nearly dropped..."

He was leaning forward, grinning, his hand still held up from slapping her. "Gotta keep time with the music," he said. "Hold still." He slapped down hard again on her tender buttocks, making her cry out once more. "...All around the house..." he sang. [slap!] "...the house..." [slap!] "...the house..." [slap!] "...the houuuuuuse!" [slap! slap! slap!]

"Owwwwwww!" she wailed, arching her body vainly against the bench. "A...Albert - please! I'll... I'll end up dropping your supper on the floor...!"

"Hey," he said, suddenly sobering, "that's serious. Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good pizza. Bring it here. Maybe we'll have some more singing later."

Her hands were trembling as she laid the plate down in front of him and it rattled briefly against the shiny surface. As she withdrew she caught a glimpse of his erection under the table. It was swollen and huge, much harder than she had seen it so far. He's going to treat me like this forever, she thought in despair. It's what turns him on. The little bastard! She brought herself obediently back to attention and stood by the table, breathing heavily.

"Mmmm," he said appreciatively, taking a big bite and pulling the cheese away in long strings from his mouth. "Not bad. Not bad at all." Then he stopped, his mouth still partly full, and stared up at her. "You haven't had any supper either, Mrs Jones. You want some?"

His offer was so unexpected that she thought she must have misheard him. "W...what?" she stammered.

"Some supper," he repeated. "Aren't you hungry? Don't you want some?"

"Why yes, I... Oh thank you, Albert." She took a hesitant step forward. "I... I never thought you'd..."

"Hey," he said grandly, "what are friends for?" He gestured towards the floor. "Get down on your knees."

Submission again, she thought emptily. Just do it. She sank to her knees and waited obediently beside the table. Her buttocks still burned like fire.

He took another mouthful. "OK," he went on, "crawl under the table and get started."

She stared at him blankly. "W...what?"

He leered at her. "Your supper," he said. "It's under the table - between my legs. While I finish this pizza I wanna have my first blow job." He waved his hand impatiently. "C'mon - hurry it up. I'm down to the last few slices already."

Disappointment and hopelessness crashed down on her again. Why are you surprised, she asked herself wearily. Didn't you already know he was a bastard? "Hurry it up," he said again, his mouth full.

With a defeated sigh she crawled under the table and started to move up between his legs. After all, she thought tiredly, I probably gave him the idea anyway. When I tried to suck him off in front of his computer. She reached up one trembling hand and grasped his erect organ and heard him groan. Then she pushed her face right into his groin and took the tip in her mouth.

"Ohhhhhh!" he moaned. "That feels fucking fantastic. Oh God. Ohhhhhh!" His hands came down under the table and tightened in her hair. "Oh shit! Where's that mouth been all my life? Oh fuck! Ohhhhhh!"

She could taste both his spent cum and her own unwilling secretions on his swollen penis. He moaned again and his hips suddenly thrust up under her face, driving the back of her head painfully against the underside of the table. She grunted in pain but kept sucking. Just get it over and done with, she thought desperately - the sooner he comes the better.

"Oh God!" he gasped. "That fucking tongue! Where did you learn to... learn to... ohhhhhh! ...learn to... do that!... Not from your... husband... I'll bet! Ohhhhhh! Oh fuck! Ohhhhhh!"

No, she thought bitterly, as her mouth kept working obediently around his throbbing shaft - it was from Eddie. He might have been a two-timing sonofabitch, but he taught me so many... And then Albie's hips suddenly convulsed again, slamming her head back up against the table, and she let out another cry of pain. She quickly lowered her head, pulling his penis down with her, and started sucking and licking for all she was worth. For God's sake, come, she thought desperately. Before you bust my skull open!

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" he screamed, frenziedly tightening his grip in her hair, grinding her face again and again into his groin. "Oh God! I'm... I'm... I'm coming! Ohhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhhh! Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!"

She felt the thick salty semen begin pulsing out into her mouth. Oh God, she thought, shuddering with disgust, please don't let him tell me to swallow it - please! She opened her lips slightly, spitting and spluttering it out around his throbbing penis, shaking with revulsion.

"Ohhhhhh!" he moaned dreamily. "So that's a blow job. Oh fuck! Ohhhhhh...!" His fingers slowly loosened their grip in her hair, and he fell back in the chair, panting and spent. "Oh God," he gasped. "Come on... come on out, Mrs Jones. Lemme... lemme see what you look like with... with a mouthful of my cum. Oh God."

She started guiltily under the table, one hand already at her chin to wipe the sticky mess away. All right, she thought with one last shiver of disgust - let the little monster see all the gory details. Then you can go wash it off afterwards. She backed out slowly from under the table, and the makeshift maid's cap scraped against the table edge and finally fell off onto the floor. As she dragged herself shakily to her feet she felt his semen begin to trickle off her chin and drip down onto her bare breasts.

"Heyyyyy," he said wearily, "that looks great. All my cum - running down your chin and all over your tits." He giggled tiredly. "Now you got it at both ends." Then his eyes slowly drooped shut and his chin sagged down onto his chest. "Both ends..." he murmured again, and his head sagged even lower.

She stood waiting for several minutes, still trembling, watching his breathing settle into a slow, even rhythm. Then she turned and began to head towards the bathroom. His semen was trickling down over her stomach now.

"Where you going?" His sleepy voice pulled her up in the doorway.

She stopped, then turned to look at him. "To... to the bathroom," she said indistinctly, trying not to move her cum-coated lips any more than she had to. "Got to clean up..."

"Listen, Mrs Jones..." He was sounding more wide awake now. "Let's run it by you again. Who's the boss round here?"

She dropped her eyes. "You are, Albert."

"So did I say you could clean up?"

"No, Albert." She was trembling again. "You... you were asleep. I thought..."

He sat up in the chair. "You want me to paddle you ass again?"

"No! Please, Albert - I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He kept on talking, as if she hadn't even spoken. "I like you like that. I like seeing my cum running out of your cunt, and I like seeing my cum running out of your mouth. It looks good." He stopped and scowled at her. "And you'll leave it there till I tell you different. Got it?"

Her lip trembled. She could feel the semen slowly congealing on her chin. "Yes, Albert," she whispered. The tears were starting to sting her eyes again.

He heaved himself unsteadily up out of the chair. "I'm fucked. I'm gonna go lay down." He looked at her. "And you're gonna lay down with me. We're gonna do that spooning stuff you were telling me about. I want you to lay up against me and wiggle that red ass of yours against my dick until I get hard again." He leered at her. "Just like you do with hubby."

Oh Rob, she thought despairingly - I've let him steal them. I've let this little monster steal our most precious private secrets. And dirty them! Oh my darling, I'm so sorry! "Albert," she faltered aloud, "I... I don't think I can. My bottom - I mean, my ass - my... my ass is so sore from all the beatings. I don't think I can bear to..."

He just stood looking at her. "So you don't want to wiggle your ass against my dick?"

"It... it's just that I'm so sore," she said hastily. "If I wasn't so sore I'd love to wiggle my..."

"How about wiggling it against the ruler? Back on the sofa."

"NO! Albert, please - for God's sake..."

"Well, you're gonna do one or the other, Mrs Jones. Which one do you think's gonna hurt less?"

"Oh God!" Her shoulders sagged. "All right. I... I'll do what you want, Albert. I'll spoon." She turned away and began moving off dispiritedly towards his room.

He pushed past and flopped down heavily on the bed in front of her. "God," he said wearily, "you sure know how to fuck a guy to death. It's gonna take a lot of that ass wiggling to get me up again, that's for sure. C'mon - lay up against me and get started."

Whose fault is it if you're all sexed out, she thought bitterly. None of this was my idea! She climbed onto the bed in front of him and slid slowly back against his body, wincing as her sore buttocks came in contact with his groin. Then, slowly and unwillingly, she began moving herself against him, grunting softly from the pain.

His hands came around her body, grabbing at both of her breasts. "Yeahhhh!" he sighed, pulling her tightly against him. "That feels good. Oh yeah!... Mmmm... Mmmmm... Mmmmmm!"

Ohhhh - it HURTS, she thought despairingly, still pushing herself doggedly back against him. "Uhhhhhh!" she moaned, as he suddenly thrust his limp penis hard up against her burning posterior. "Owwwwch!"

He pulled her in even tighter. "Sounds like you're... enjoying this, Mrs Jones," he panted. "Why don't you... do it a little bit faster?"

Bastard! She gritted her teeth, trying to will away the pain. Twist and thrust. "Owwww..." Twist and thrust. "Uhhhhh..." Twist and thrust. "Ahhhhh..." Twist and thrust. "Owwwch!..."

"Keep doing it..." He was sounding sleepy now. "...doing it... Feels good... Mmmmm..."

"Uhhhh!" she grunted, perspiration breaking out all over her as she kept pushing back against the continuing pain. "Ohhhh!... Ohhhh!... Uhhhh!..." Then, suddenly and mercifully, she became aware that he had actually fallen asleep, with his arms still clasped loosely around her body. She gave a few more slow thrusts and then stopped, trembling against him. Thank God, she thought gratefully. Thank God!

He slept on. She eventually moved her left arm, slowly and hesitantly, fearful of waking him, until she could see her watch. Nine fifteen. Oh God, she thought hopelessly - still almost two hours of this hell left to go! Let's just hope he stays asleep.

She moved her other arm. He still didn't stir. Then slowly, with infinite patience, a fraction of an inch at a time, she lifted his limp hands off her breasts and gradually eased her body away from his. When he murmured in his sleep she froze, still half pressed against him, and waited until his breathing settled back into the same slow, even rhythm as before.

By the time she had extricated herself and stood up quietly beside the bed she was trembling all over. She looked fearfully down at him but he was still asleep, head thrown back and mouth gaping open. His young throat looked very open and vulnerable. A sudden wild thought seized her. I could kill you, you little monster! I could get a knife from the kitchen and kill you right now. I'd be doing the world a favor. But even as her mind formed the thought she knew she couldn't bring herself to do it.

With one last cautious look down at him she tiptoed quietly away from the bed. Her clothes were still lying where she had dropped them, in an untidy heap on the floor. She longed to put them back on, to cover her shameful nakedness, but she knew he would punish her if he woke up and found her dressed without permission. She sighed and went off to find the bathroom.

The sight that greeted her in the mirror left her aghast. Her hair was in disarray, her makeup smeared, and his dried semen was very visible all around her mouth. She looked down at her crotch to find her pubic hair matted with his ejaculate and she shuddered. The shower alcove beckoned to her, tantalizing her with the overwhelming urge to feel clean again, but she didn't dare. She finally settled for cleaning her lips with a wet tissue, being careful not to disturb the encrustation on her chin any more than she could help. Then she bent down and drank long and thirstily from the basin faucet.

She took a deep breath and set out for a cautious tour of the apartment. There was a second, larger bedroom with a king sized double bed. His father's room, she decided. It looked particularly unlived in, with no personal effects on the dresser and no pictures on the walls. He obviously doesn't spend much time here, she thought. No wonder the kid's such a little monster.

As she walked quietly back through the living room she saw the big ruler still lying on the sofa and she shivered. The dull pain in her buttocks seemed to flare up again just from the sight of it. If I have to go through anything like that again, she thought despairingly, then I'll die - I know I will.

The doorway of his bedroom gaped at her. Suddenly it seemed like the gateway to hell. But I have to go back in, she thought, trembling. If he wakes up and I'm not there...

She started tiptoeing slowly and unwillingly back towards his bed, intending to lie back down beside him as quietly as she could. Then she caught sight of the computer screen, still displaying its endless flying toasters. And before she knew what she was doing she was slowly easing her aching buttocks down onto the chair and reaching timidly for the mouse. She took one fearful glance over her shoulder as her hand closed on it, but he was still sleeping soundly. If I can only find out where he keeps those damn pictures, she thought. Maybe I can erase them or something.

The toasters disappeared. She peered anxiously at the screen, scanning the bewildering array of icons and labels. EMAIL said one of them. With one last nervous glance over her shoulder at the sleeping figure on the bed, she moved the cursor clumsily on top of the label and clicked. The icon changed color but nothing else happened. She clicked again. Still nothing. Then she remembered. You have to click twice, sweetheart, said her husband's voice in her mind.

The steel band was tightening around her head again, the feeling of helpless ignorance welling up inside her once more. Desperately she pressed down twice on the mouse button and then sighed with relief when a window suddenly opened up on the screen. ENTER PASSWORD it said. Her heart sank again. What the hell was the little bastard's password likely to be?

She hunted hesitantly around the keyboard, picking out the letters A-L-B-E-R-T as gently and quietly as she could, watching the row of asterisks slowly lengthen on the screen. Then she stopped and waited. Nothing. Is there something else I have to press? she wondered. Oh yes - the ENTER key.

INVALID PASSWORD the screen said. She looked fearfully over her shoulder. What was his surname again? Martin. That's it - Martin. She slowly typed it in and pressed ENTER.

INVALID PASSWORD. The message mocked her once more. Then she had a sudden inspiration. A-L-B-I-E, she typed, then entered it.

The noise filled the room with shocking suddenness. [Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!] ATTEMPTED BREAK IN HAS BEEN LOGGED flashed the screen in huge red letters. [Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!] [Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!]...

"Oh God!" she screamed, scrabbling frantically for a switch, a volume control, a plug - anything to stop the noise. Then a hand came over her shoulder and pressed a few quick keys on the keyboard. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

She sat frozen, twisted half around in the chair, staring at his naked abdomen, not daring to lift her eyes. There was a deathly silence. Then at last he spoke. "You... stupid... bitch..." he said slowly.

She didn't move. She didn't breathe. Then his hand gripped her hair and tipped her face slowly back to look up into his. "What the fuck am I gonna do with you?" he asked flatly.

She felt the tears starting, felt them running out of her sightless open eyes, felt them running down her face, felt them dripping down onto her bare breasts and thighs. She just kept staring blindly up at him, crying. Crying in absolute hopeless silence. Crying and crying and crying.

He finally released her and sat down heavily on the bed. "Shit," he said disgustedly. "How fucking stupid can you get?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Even if you got in, even if you fucking knew one end of a computer from another - did you think I wouldn't have it all BACKED UP?"

"You're... you're going to punish me again, a...aren't you?" she sobbed wretchedly. "Oh God. I'll die - I'll just die."

"You bet I'm gonna punish you," he said grimly. "Only this time I'm not gonna kid around with a ruler." He reached forward and clamped one hand painfully hard on her bare thigh. "I'm gonna tie you over the back of an armchair. I'm gonna spread your legs wide apart and tie your ankles. Then..." He got up swiftly and went over to a cupboard. "...I'm gonna paddle you with THIS." He held up a large ping pong bat, its surface covered with hard nobbled rubber.

She just looked at him. "Oh God," she whispered. She began to tremble uncontrollably. "Oh God."

"I'm gonna paddle you," he went on, "so fucking hard that you won't be able to sit down for a month. And when I'm tired of paddling you I'm gonna stick this..." He reversed the paddle and thrust the wooden handle upwards. "...up your cunt and ream you open, ready for when I'm hard enough to fuck you again from behind. And then I'm gonna..."

"Oh GOD!" she screamed. "NOOOOOO!" She threw herself out of the chair onto the floor, clawing desperately at his ankles. "I'll do ANYTHING! Oh God, Albert - ANYTHING! Please, Albert, for God's sake please, it'll kill me I know it will and I'll do anything you say I'll never never never say no again and I'll stay here all night if that's what you want and I'll be so good to you and give you as much sex as you want and I'll..."

He stood in silence looking down at her as she babbled frantically on and on, as she clung to his ankles and kissed his feet and wept and cried and kissed his feet again. Again and again and again. Finally he moved his feet impatiently, trying to kick himself free. "Shut up!" he said suddenly.

"...And I'll hug you and kiss you and suck your dick as much as you want and swallow all your cum and..."

"SHUT UP!" he roared. Then he wrenched his feet free of the frenzied grasp around his ankles and crouched down beside her on the floor. She was still sobbing as his hand closed on her hair, jerking her face up off the carpet. He bent down until his face was just inches away from her own. "You," he said, slowly and deliberately, "are never gonna fuck with my stuff again. Never... ever... ever!"

"No, Albert," she sobbed.

He shook her by the hair. "You," he continued, "are never gonna say no to me again. Never... ever... EVER!"

"No, Albert!" she wailed.

"If I say jump you're gonna jump." He shook her again. "If I say fuck you're gonna fuck." He bent her head back and shouted right into her face: "If I say do anything at all, you're gonna FUCKING DO IT!"

"Yes, Albert!" she bawled, and then burst out in a fresh flood of desperate weeping.

With an exclamation of disgust he released her hair, letting her face fall back down onto the floor. Then he sat down in the computer chair and waited.

Finally her crying subsided. She stayed sprawled at his feet, her body still shuddering with isolated broken sobs. "Get up," he said abruptly.

Slowly and painfully, she lifted her puffy tear-streaked face up off the floor and tried to focus on him. "What?..." she mumbled dully.

"I said: get up. What's the matter - don't you understand plain English?"

She stumbled hastily to her feet, terrified of angering him again, and stood trembling in front of him. He got up and came over to her, then reached out one hand and grabbed her left nipple. He started twisting.

"You gonna touch my stuff again?"

"Ohhhhhh!" she gasped, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "No, Albert - I promise!"

He twisted harder. "You gonna say no again?"

"Aaaahhhh!" she wailed. "No! I'll never... Owwwwww! Aaaaggghhhh!"

He gave one final vicious twist and released her. Then he grabbed her hair in both hands and pulled her face back against his own. "Get your makeup," he hissed, "or whatever other female type shit you're carrying with you, and go clean yourself up. And I want you back here in THREE MINUTES!"

She staggered backwards with a sob as he released her, then immediately crouched down and began scrabbling frantically for her handbag under her discarded clothes. Then she burst out of his room and hurtled across the living room, feeling her naked breasts bouncing wildly up and down as she ran. The handbag flew out of her hands as she reached the bathroom and she grabbed desperately for it again, sobbing in her haste. Then she was frantically splashing, soaping, washing, rinsing, combing and redoing her makeup. "Oh God!" she screamed in frustration as her shaking fingers smeared her lipstick awry. She swabbed desperately at it with a tissue and then turned and rushed back to him, panting and trembling.

He was sitting looking at his watch as she came running in. "That was four minutes," he said, without raising his head. "I said three." He looked up at her and hefted the ping pong bat in his right hand. "Looks like I'm gonna have to paddle you anyway."

She stared at him for a moment, breasts still heaving with her panting, then closed her eyes and sank slowly and despairingly to her knees. "Ohhhhhh God," she moaned hopelessly. "Ohhhhhh God..."

"Stop that fucking crying," he snapped. "You're gonna get your makeup all messed up again. Get up off the floor and lie down on the bed."

Gulping back her sobs, she clambered onto the bed and lay down on her stomach, face averted from him. Each hand found a handful of sheet and tightened. Then she waited, shivering with despair, for the first blow to fall. Her abused buttocks felt incredibly cold and vulnerable.

"What the hell are you doing?" he burst out angrily. "Roll over onto your back!"

My back, she thought wildly. How are you going to paddle me... paddle my... - if I'm lying on my back? She rolled quickly over onto her back, grunting in distress as her sore buttocks hit the sheets. Maybe he's going to paddle my... my breasts instead! Oh God - please no! She lay tremblingly still, her eyes fixed fearfully on his face, not daring to breathe.

"Gotta get set up first," he muttered. Her eyes followed him apprehensively as he went over to the cupboard and began to fumble inside it. "Here they are," he said triumphantly, holding up several large sheets of folded paper. She tipped her face back, still watching him fearfully, as he taped them to the wall above the head of the bed. Even looking at them upside down she recognized them - they were colored blowups of her pictures. Why's he doing that, she thought, trembling. Does he need them for inspiration or something while he beats me?

He went around the room, switching on some small floodlights mounted up near the ceiling. Then he was back at the cupboard, pulling out some equipment which she didn't recognize and carrying it to the side of the bed. As the various parts and fittings slid out and clicked into place her awareness slowly grew. A tripod... He attached some equipment to the top of it and stepped back. "Digital camera," he said with satisfaction. "Megapixel - the latest model." His voice was muffled as he fumbled behind his computer with a cable in his hands. "My Dad'll buy me anything as long as it keeps me out of his hair. Good old Dad..."

She felt the horror rising inside her. God, she thought, shaking with both disgust and fear - it's not enough to just beat me, is it? You've got to get photos of me screaming as well! Oh my God...

"Now," he said, stepping behind the camera and brushing the hair back out of his eyes, "I want you lying kinda half on your side, with..." He narrowed his eyes and squinted at the wall behind her. "...with your right knee up and your head propped up on one arm. And your other hand lying along your hip."

She blinked at him, stunned. She was still trembling. What the hell does the weird little bastard want now, she thought.

"Mrs Jones..." His voice was thick with exasperation and anger. "...do you like having your ass paddled or something? 'Cause it's sure as hell gonna get paddled again if you don't get into that pose and hold it - right now!"

Realization dawned. He wanted to photograph her. He wasn't going to beat her just yet, he was just going to photograph her - in the same poses as her pinups! She almost wept with relief and then, seeing his rising impatience, started struggling to adopt the pose he had ordered.

"That's it." He was looking through the viewfinder now. "Knee up a little bit higher... Yeah - just like that. And for God's sake smile. You look like you're about to start blubbering again."

He took the first few photographs, muttering about the light levels and adjusting the small floods to shine on her more directly. And then suddenly she was back in the studio of ten years before, naked in front of strangers, nervous and trembling under the heat of the big arc lights. Oh God, she thought despairingly, if only I'd known - I was selling my soul to this little monster, for the sake of a few thousand lousy dollars!

"I told you to smile!" His tone was angry again. "If you're gonna lie there looking like your mother just died, I'll give you something to really cry about!"

"I'm sorry, Albert!" she said frantically. "I'm smiling now. Please - I'm smiling, Albert. Look!" And she stretched her mouth in a trembling travesty of a smile, struggling desperately against the urge to break down and start sobbing again.

He took her through each of the poses in turn, peering repeatedly up at the wall and then back into the viewfinder, sometimes darting forward to move an arm or a leg until he was satisfied. She lost count of how may times photographs he took. After a while it all just melted into a meaningless blur, with his voice directing her as she moved mechanically from one pose to another. When he finally stopped it took her some time to realize it was over at last.

Then he was speaking again. "I... I used to dream..." he began. She noticed with a sudden shock that his voice was unsteady. And just for a moment it seemed as if the hardness in his young face had melted away, that the same shy gawky youth she knew from school was back in front of her again. "When... when I first found your pictures in that magazine, I used to dream that some day maybe..." His tone hardened. "...that some day maybe you'd be lying like this in front of me, and I'd be able to take any kind of photo I wanted. Any kind at all." He paused, staring at down her, then he reached down towards his groin and started slowly kneading his still-flaccid penis. "Lay flat on your back, Mrs Jones. Spread your legs real wide, and then reach down and pull your cunt wide open. It's time for some REAL photos - like the ones I can download from the Web."

She had thought she was beyond shame. But now she felt the heat in her face again, felt it flooding down over the rest of her body as she lay in front of him. She closed her eyes in humiliation and pain, then reached down slowly and obediently between her legs. Is that what you want, you twisted little bastard, she thought dully, spreading her labia as wide as she could. Just like that, you little pervert? Oh God.

"Great, Mrs Jones." His voice came from behind the camera. "But stop gritting your teeth like that and give me a big sexy smile." His left hand was still at his groin, slowly grinding his still-limp organ in against his body. "Yeah - that's it..." he breathed.

Then he made her purse her lips to look as if she was blowing kisses. And then she had to slide her fingers inside herself and masturbate for the camera. "Yeah," he panted, still kneading his slack penis. "Shut your eyes, throw your head back and open your mouth - just like you were coming. Yeah - great!"

Then he had her get up on her knees, face down on the bed, with her reddened bottom towards the camera, fingers spreading her labia wide again. And then there were more poses, and more and more and more, each one seemingly more obscene that the ones which preceded them. And throughout the whole horrible nightmare she tried to smile. Because he told her to.

"OK," he said finally, "that'll do. I must have at least a hundred megs of pics by now." He looked down at her and his lips stretched in a smile. "It sure is gonna be a lot of fun sorting through them." His left hand was still at his groin.

She collapsed back on the bed. Thank God that's over, she thought dully. I guess it was better than being beaten. And she shivered.

He was still talking. "All that sexy posing made me real hot, Mrs Jones. Now I wanna fuck you again."

Her eyes went to his groin. "But you're... you're still not hard," she protested. "How can you...?"

He grunted. "I've been working too damned hard at all this fucking so far. Now it's your turn. You're gonna do all the work to get me hard, and then you're gonna sit on top of me and bounce up and down till I come." He moved towards the bed. "Come on - move over."

She looked desperately at her watch. "Albert, it's... it's already ten fifty five. You said I could go at eleven. I... I can't stay any later than that - I just can't! Please, Albert."

"Shit," he said disgustedly. "I can't believe you're still saying no, Mrs Jones." He moved quickly around to the far side of the bed. "Where's that fucking paddle?"

"No!" she shrieked. "Oh my God, Albert - NO!" She threw herself down on her knees in front of him, grabbing frantically for his limp organ, shoving the head desperately into her mouth. "Nubububububububub," she gurgled desperately around the shaft of his penis. "Plub...ease, Ab...b...bert... Ub... glub... blub... glub..." She began frantically masturbating him and sucking him at the same time. "Plub...ease - plub...ease!"

His hands grabbed for her hair. "Ohhhhhh!" he moaned. "That's more fucking like it! Ohhhhhh!" He pushed feebly at her head with both hands. "Get me... get me down on the fucking bed - before I... before I fall over! Ohhhhhh!"

He held tightly to her head, keeping her mouth locked on his penis as he staggered towards the bed. He fell onto his back, leaving her on her knees beside the bed with her face still pressed hard into his groin. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" he gasped, his hands grinding her head down into his crotch. "I'm getting it up - I'm getting it uuuuuupppppp!"

She felt his organ slowly starting to swell inside her mouth as she kept desperately sucking and licking at it, her fingers running frantically up and down his stiffening shaft. Just get him off, her mind kept shouting. Just get him off and get out of here!

Suddenly he started clawing urgently at her arms and shoulders. "Get up on top of me!" he panted. "Get your cunt down over my dick and start bouncing up and down. Do it, you fucking bitch - oh God, do it!"

She tore her mouth away from his nearly-erect penis and scrambled on top of him, guiding the head of his organ into the mouth of her vagina with her hands. "Uhhhhh!" she grunted as his shaft slid up into her still-raw passage. "Oooooh!" She gritted her teeth and began to bob slowly up and down on top of him, holding his penis with one hand to stop it slipping out of her again.

"Oh yeah!" he gasped. "Just like that! Oh God! Don't stop - just... don't... fucking... stop!" He opened his eyes and looked up at her, then reached up two trembling hands and clamped them on her breasts as she kept moving on top of him. "Just keep doing that," he panted, squeezing her bobbing breasts. "Just keep doing that all fucking NIGHT..."

Her sore buttocks were pounding against his thighs now, and the pain combined with the rawness of her vagina made her cry out with every stroke. Oh God, she gasped under her breath, feeling the sweat breaking out all over her heaving body, aren't you... ever... going to... come? She gritted her teeth even harder and stared at the wall, trying frantically to maintain the speed of her movements. Come on, damn you - just COME!

"Oh God," he moaned, still lying almost inert underneath her, "that feels so... fucking... good! I... I don't... ever... want to... come - I just want it... to go on... and on... and fucking on!... Ohhhhhh!"

Oh God, she thought despairingly, struggling to keep going as her pain and fatigue grew. How long does he think I can... keep doing THIS?... Oh God.

Then his hips began slowly bucking up and down under her. "Oh yeah..." he gasped. "Oh yeah... Oh yeah... Oh yeaaaahhh!" She clenched her fists and made one last desperate effort, thudding her aching buttocks frantically up and down on top of him, gasping and panting and trembling with exhaustion. "Oh yeaaaaaahhhhhh!!" he screamed. "Coming... coming!... commmmmmiiiiiinnnnnngggggg!"

With a sobbing groan of relief she collapsed down onto him, completely and utterly exhausted and drained. As she lay shuddering on top of him, her breath coming in great sobbing gasps, she could feel his latest flood of semen starting to ooze slowly out of her burning vagina. Where the hell does he get it all, she thought in exhausted amazement. And how long can I keep doing this before he completely destroys my sex organs? Oh God!

His hoarse panting began to slow, and his hands started pawing tiredly at her trembling body. "God, Mrs Jones," he said wearily, "you sure know how to fuck. Every time your husband's away I'm gonna... I'm gonna fuck you and fuck you and fuck you till I can't stand up. Ohhhhhh fuck...!"

The hopelessness and fear assaulted her afresh, even as her exhaustion and pain slowly started to fade. Oh God, she thought despairingly, it's going to go on forever. It's never going to stop! She tried to blink back the hopeless tears. "Please, Albert," she whispered, "can I go now? It's well after eleven, and you... you promised. Please!"

He slowly fondled one of her sore buttocks, making her wince. "Might as well," he said tiredly. "I haven't got another fuck left in me this side of morning. Pick up your stuff and get your red ass out of here."

She felt her face starting to burn once more. That's right, she thought bitterly - treat me like the local whore. Just kick me out the door now that you've got what you wanted! She could feel herself trembling as she clambered off him and bent down shakily to pick up her discarded clothes.

He lay on the bed watching her sorting through her crumpled things. "Gimme those," he said suddenly, holding out his hand as she picked up her panties. "I want you to go home without them."

She just looked at him, bent over her clothing with the panties clutched in her hand. "What...?"

"I want you to go home without them," he repeated. "I want you driving home with your cunt open under your skirt, and all my fresh cum still running out of it." He leered at her. "Just a little something to remind you of our first night together."

She stared at him, her lower lip trembling. Then suddenly she let out a sob, thrust the panties into his outstretched hand and then grabbed wildly at her remaining clothes and rushed blindly out of the room. "Remember," he called after her - "don't you go cleaning up that cummy cunt. I might check it before you go."

She slammed the bathroom door behind her and stood trembling, with her back against the door and the tears still pouring down her face. Damn him, she raged to herself. Damn the little bastard to hell! Isn't it enough for him to rape me without him having to humiliate the hell out of me all the time? Oh God!

By the time she had put on her remaining clothes she had started to calm down a little. She couldn't bring herself to pull her pantyhose on over her messy crotch, so she just crumpled them up and thrust them savagely into her handbag. As she washed her face and redid her makeup with trembling hands she tried to regain some degree of control. Don't rebel, she kept telling her reflection in the mirror - don't rebel. Just swallow your pride and get the hell out of here. She took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, moving awkwardly as she tried to keep her skirt from adhering to her semen-soaked groin.

He was standing by the front door, bare chested, wearing only a pair of jeans. He smiled crookedly as he watched her awkward approach. "Good night, Mrs Jones," he said ironically, as he started turning the key in the lock. "Thanks for a wonderful evening."

She stood silent and trembling as he finished unlocking the door, turning the key several times to retract the deadlock. Then she realized he was looking at her again. "Heyyyy," he said softly, "you're looking real sexy all of a sudden. With your hair and makeup done all nice and your clothes back on, you're looking real, real sexy." He pocketed the key and started moving towards her.

"No!" she screamed, shrinking back fearfully as he reached out towards the front of her blouse. "Oh God - you said I could go. You PROMISED!"

He stopped, hand outstretched, the smile still on his face. "Thought you might like to know, Mrs Jones," he said. "Your blouse is buttoned up crooked."

With a choking sob she pushed past him, wrenched the door open and ran wildly out of the apartment.


To be continued in Part 2...
    

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