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Introduction:

Rachel discovers a key to my past and tries to use it to end our arrangement; however, she doesn't understand quite what she has and it costs her.
Saturday came and I still hadn’t heard from Rachel. I also wasn’t yet ready to call her for our next tryst. I certainly wanted to. In the time before Rachel, since I had last been with a woman, it had seemed that my sex drive had gone cold. Being with Rachel had reignited it, driven it from nearly dormant to a towering inferno. To bide my time, I watched the videos of our previous encounters. She really was magnificent. She could have been a lousy fuck and it still wouldn’t have mattered, her youthful body and lascivious mind more than made up for it. She wasn’t bad in bed, though, at least in the (so-far) limited experiences I’d had with her. The girl performed like she had spent a lifetime working in porn, learning the industry-exaggerated ways in which women were supposed to act in order to please their man. It occurred to me that she most certainly hadn’t been working in porn for all her life and that she must have a fairly active sex life, even for a teenager. A pang of jealousy knotted my stomach. I realized I was envious of a high school boy, Rachel’s teen boyfriend Ryan, a man I had never even met. Envious. And angry. Angry because I knew that, as an inexperienced high school boy, there was no way he could truly appreciate the sexual ideal that was his girlfriend.

Re-watching her as she brought herself to a thunderous orgasm that had left my bed soaked was enough to keep my lust from boiling over. Barely. It remained simmering at a high level, no matter how many times I brought myself off watching her gorgeous pink lips wrapped around my cock, her hair pooling on my thighs as she bobbed her head up and down vigorously in my lap. Of course, my near-perpetual state of arousal made it hard to keep my fingers from dialing her number, but I was currently enslaved by feelings that were, incredibly, even stronger than my lust. Namely, fear, guilt, embarrassment, and what I knew was nothing more than a simple crush, but, having been alone so long, felt like so much more.

Realistically, what I had done was easily explainable. Maybe she had already forgotten all about it. Riding the tail end of two powerful orgasms, we had collapsed on the bed into a comfortable pile of naked flesh. Perhaps, had I not inadvertently draped my arm around her shoulder, the moment would’ve remained completely unremarkable. Still, while I knew I could easily explain away a temporary lapse in judgment to Rachel, I would have a much tougher time convincing myself. In the quiet moments at night, I wasn’t dreaming about fucking the minxy teenager; I was reminiscing about the smell of her perfume and the soft, silky feel of her hair against my chest. After dozing off, she would continue to visit me, while a miserable woman watched us through tear-stained hazel eyes. Sometimes I saw her, staring at me in obvious pain; other times I only heard her quiet sobs.

Fortunately, I was saved from reliving the brunette’s obvious pain by the beeping of my phone. I had a message from Rachel. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t decided what to do about her, what to say to her.

-Drove by ur house, saw u got ur truck back

-I did.

-And? What’s my total?

-$1250. If you want to be technical $1262.38, but I think we can round it down.

-Will u be home today at noon? I have something for u

-Come over whenever you’re ready.

She didn’t respond, leaving me instead to wonder over exactly what she was bringing me. A restraining order, or even an arrest warrant (and accompanying police officer), seemed most likely. What was even more frightening, even more than the idea of being arrested for rape, was the idea that she might show up with a check for the full amount, concluding their deal in a less consequential, but equally final, manner.

*****

Rachel’s truck pulled into my driveway at 10 to noon. As eager as I was to see her, her early arrival held an air of foreboding. Seeing her exiting her truck, I opened the front door, waiting for her. She brushed past me, kissing my cheek as she passed, a huge smile on her face. She sat down on my couch, a manila folder clutched in her lap. She seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation, but I was focused on that folder. Rachel watched me closely, waving the folder in front of her. Had I been able to draw my eyes away from it, I might’ve noticed how broad her smile had grown, how it seemed almost…evil.

She clutched the folder to her chest, lowering it enough that her ample cleavage hung tantalizingly above it. Clad in a perilously low-cut blouse, I still couldn’t draw my eyes away from the dangerous folder in her lap. Noticing that she controlled my attention without even using her perfectly-formed breasts, she purred, “You probably want what’s in this folder, don’t you?”

Biting on the edge of it, her eyes locked on mine, she continued, “More than you want what’s in here?” She drew her other hand across her crotch, rubbing her pussy through her jeans. I lowered my head, closing my eyes and breathing deeply through my nose, trying to control the mix of emotions rattling through my brain. Placing the folder in her lap, she pulled down on the front of her blouse, exposing the top of her lacy bra. She finally managed to pull my eyes from whatever document she had resting in her lap, but she couldn’t completely draw my attention. “Maybe we should just wait on that, what do you think?”

“No. What is it?”

“You sure? You want what’s in here?” she asked, picking up the folder and waving it in front of her face. “More than what’s in here?” Unbuttoning her jeans, she stuck her hand down inside her panties.

I sighed. If it was my arrest warrant, it was probably best I don’t compound it with whatever else she was offering first. “What is it?”

She grinned at me, holding the folder over. Looking into her eyes, I saw for the first time the malevolence in her face. She stared intently into my eyes as she handed the folder over. It felt heavy in my hands, like whatever was in it had been engraved in lead. I opened the folder up, feeling like it was pulsing in my hands, as though it had its own heartbeat. I couldn’t break my gaze away from her piercing blue eyes, though. She looked as excited to have me see it as I had been to have her in my house, and whatever could make her feel like that scared me. Finally, when it felt like my gaze was being perpetually sucked into the black hole held in my own two hands, when it seemed like Rachel’s smile was in danger of splitting her face in two if it grew any wider, I looked down at what I held.

The folder contained a single piece of 8.5” by 11” glossy photo paper. Printed on that sheet was the face of a beautiful brunette, her hazel eyes shining magnificently underneath the veil of her wedding dress. “Amber. Leigh. Holcum.” She paused between each word, letting them hang in the air between us. I could feel Rachel’s gaze boring into me from the couch, just as my wife’s did from the photo in my hands. “Oh,” she asked, mock-innocently. “Do you know her?”

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes, finally breaking my eyes away from Amber’s bright, shining hazel eyes to Rachel’s calculating blue ones. “I wonder what she would think,” Rachel began,” if she knew what her husband was up to. Do you think she’d approve of you forcing some teen girl to be your personal sex slave? Or maybe she does know, is that it?”

“No.”

“Maybe she’s just as fucked up as you are.”

“Watch it.”

“Does she help you? Find vulnerable girls for you that you can exploit?”

“Don’t talk about her. She’s a good person,” I snapped.

Sensing she had gotten to me, Rachel pressed her attack. “Oh…so that’s why she left, then? Found out what you really are?”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. “Couldn’t take the shame of anyone finding out what type of man she’d married, huh?” Another deep breath. My hands were shaking, the folder fluttering wildly in front of me as I struggled to calm myself. “Can’t say I blame- “

“Rachel,” I managed with a preternatural sense of calm. That was enough to shut her up. My voice remained even, belying my palpable rage. One look at her face was enough to know that she had noticed it, too. She glanced fearfully between me and the front door, her brash, arrogant smile gone now. “Tell me, Rachel. How did you think this was going to go? You’d come in here, throw a picture of my wife at me, and…what? Guilt me? Play to my emotions? Convince me I had to do a better job to be the man she agreed to marry, is that it?”

Her fear solidified into rage and tears began streaming down her face, surprising me. “I said I’d do what I have to do to pay for your truck, but I never…” she choked up, a sob wracking her body. “I never agreed to bring Ryan into it. You made me…made me talk about him…made me compare you two while you…forced yourself on me. But you’ve got people of your own that you care about, too. Don’t think I won’t find them.”

Our eyes met, my rage-filled eyes meeting her tear-stained, hurtful ones. I looked her up and down. How had I thought she was attractive? This wasn’t the same tank-top/short-shorts wearing cheerleader that had distracted me so just over a week ago. It seemed like only days ago, and several years ago at the same time, that I had watched in amazement (and a small amount of pride in her) as her throat bulged around my cock. I had an urge to do it again, but not for sexual pleasure. I wanted to watch her choke. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand around her slender neck, holding my cock as far down her throat as it would go. I wanted to slap her across the face as I watched the life drain from her eyes.

She had an amazing body, but it had become something offensive to me. I wanted to grip and hurt her breasts, spank her firm ass until it glowed red and she was unable to sit down. The only pleasure I could imagine deriving from her now was that in causing her pain, breaking her down into a mess of tears and bruises. I wanted to hear her cry and plead for a mercy I knew I would be unable to grant her right now.

“The difference, Rachel, is that you DON’T HAVE ANY POWER HERE.” I had lost my cool, collected (if only just) manner and was now screaming at her as she cowered further against the couch. She made to run for the door, but I caught her by the arm, throwing her back down. Her back hit the side of the sofa and she landed painfully on the ground, scurrying away from me. “HOW DARE YOU BRING MY WIFE INTO THIS?”

Crab-walking away from me, she hit the wall and curled into the fetal position. I gripped her upper arms, pulling her to her feet in front of me. She kept her head down, unable to meet my eyes. I shook her, her body whipping about like a ragdoll in my hands. She still wouldn’t meet my gaze, so I slammed her back against the wall, then a second and third time. Furious that she wouldn’t look at me, I grabbed her throat, forcing her back against the wall, her eyes finally on mine. “Please,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just want this to end.”

“Continue.”

Confusion spread across her face, momentarily stopping her tears. “Continue what?” She was a mess. Her face was puffy from crying, her hair wild, her clothes disheveled.

“Finish the story.”

“Wha-what story? I don’t- “

“Tell me what else you learned.” Silence. “TELL ME.”

“No-nothing. I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

“Fine then. Since you didn’t finish your homework, I’ll talk. You want to know why my wife left me? Do you?”

She shook her head wildly, tears pouring forth as she heard the anger bubbling over in my voice. “No, I just want to go home. I want this to end.”

“This will end once I’m satisfied your debt is paid. Not before.” She sobbed again, dropping her head back down as she pulled weakly at the hand around her neck. “But first, how about a little story time.” I pulled on a length of her blonde hair, yanking her away from the wall and grabbing at the nape of her neck. Using my vice-like grip to guide her, I led her to the stairs to my basement.

Seeing the steps threw her into a full-blown panic. She tried to brace herself against the stairwell, crying and screaming incoherently. “PLEASE! NO, DON’T, I’M SORRY! PLEASE, I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, JUST DON’T KILL ME.”

“Kill you?” As angry as I was, I had never considered it. Hadn’t even crossed my mind that it would be a worry of hers. “I’m not going to kill you.”

She didn’t seem comforted. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re going on a little tour,” I told her, forcing her down the first step. “I thought you’d want to see it. It was my wife’s favorite room in the house.” At the mention of my wife, her panic rose again. She managed to break from my grip but, turning to run back up the steps, she met the solid wall of my chest. I grabbed her roughly, shaking her until she looked at me. “You can either walk down those stairs,” I stepped towards her, forcing her to back up, the heel of her left foot hanging over the top step. “Or I can throw you down them.”

“Oh my god,” she sobbed. I thought she would struggle more, but, with a tearful glance at my stony face, she trudged slowly down the stairs.

“You brought up Amber. Let’s go meet her.” The stairs ended in a large, finished basement. A bar stood in one corner, a poker table set up near it. On the far wall was a large-screen TV with several couches sat facing it. A foosball table sat collecting dust near the staircase. Past the bar and the TV, a hallway led to the downstairs bathroom and a door that I hadn’t opened for the past year and a half. With one hand firmly against the small of her back, I led her towards that door. In other circumstances, it would have seemed a lover’s caress, except that I was furious, and she was trembling in fear. “You want to know what my wife would’ve thought about our little arrangement?” Holding her elbow tightly to keep her from bolting back up the stairs, I stepped around her and opened the door.

She stepped into the brightly lit room, her hands covering her mouth as she surveyed its contents. Much of it would be unfamiliar to her, at least in name, but she would be able to guess the intentions behind most of it. Pointing to a wooden stand in the corner, “That is a pillory.” I ran my hand over the polished wood before moving on. “This, as I’m sure you could have guessed, is simply called a horse. Seems innocuous enough. It’s not.”

Rachel was no longer watching me show off my collection of bondage furniture. Her eyes were locked on what looked like a section of black chain-link fence adorning the wall. From this fence hung several nefarious-looking implements: nipple clamps, paddles, canes, floggers, cuffs, whips, a selection of dildos in various sizes. I crossed over to where they hung, taking in her wide, panic-filled eyes. Selecting a leather flogger, I swung it casually by my side, waiting for her to notice me. Her eyes swept over mine quickly, dropping instead to the device held in my hand. “Oh no. Oh god no. Please.”

“Take off your clothes, Rachel.”

“I’m really sorry.” She was crying now. “Please, not this.”

“Take off your clothes, Rachel.” Her head flicked towards the door, although a quick calculation told her she wouldn’t make it there before I was on her. I swung the flogger at her, striking her on the hip, the tails wrapping around her to lash against her ass. She yelped, rubbing the sting from her hip with one hand. I swung at her other hip. She tried to counter by dodging, the leather tips slapping against her stomach instead. She lifted her shirt, not undressing, simply surveying the damage done to her tender flesh. I brought it down hard against the tops of her breasts, driving her to the floor.

Finally, from her knees, she stared up at me and slowly removed her shirt. Standing up on wobbly legs, she slid her shorts down her legs, letting them pool at her ankles. She stood before me trembling, trying vainly to cover herself with her arms. She didn’t move, other than to turn and follow me with her eyes as I closed the door. It was installed with a deadbolt, and I inserted a key that, despite not having been in this room in quite some time, always stayed on my person. Having denied her any illusions of escape, I directed her attention towards a device on the far side from the door. “That, Rachel, is a St. Andrew’s Cross. One of my wife’s favorites. Used to spend hours in here.”

She collapsed on the floor, sobbing, still clad in her bra and panties. Clearly terrified, she nevertheless offered no resistance as I lifted one arm, fastening a leather cuff around her wrist. Similarly, she allowed me to place one on the other wrist. As I grabbed one ankle, pulling it away from the tight little ball she had tried to twist herself into, she yelped, trying to scoot away from me. I held her leg tightly, and she soon stopped. I tried lifting her to her feet, but she was wholly unable to stand, so I instead dragged her by one leg towards the base of the wooden cross. She began fighting as soon as I had the first ankle cuff secured to it, struggling to keep her other leg free, but she was no match for me. I now had her legs secured to the cross, so that, if I could get her back on her feet, she would be pressed face-first towards the wooden boards.

I tried pulling her to her feet, but, for a girl of no more than 105 pounds, she did a remarkable job of turning that all into dead weight, resisting any of my attempts to find a better grip and haul her up. Finally, I dropped her, letting her body thud against the hard floor. From a large metal cabinet next to my impact toys, I retrieved another device. Rachel had just enough time to identify it and begin screaming before I pressed the taser to her hip, activating it. I enjoyed watching her spasm, her breasts bouncing in her flimsy bra, her face contorted, before releasing the trigger. Now compliant, Rachel was much easier to lift, and I was able to easily secure both arms to the top of the St. Andrew’s Cross. Reaching down, I was able to readjust her ankle cuffs so that she was now leaning against the cross, her weight supported from her wrists, her feet inches off the ground. I plucked a blindfold from a shelf and, satisfied that it was in place, pulled a seat into the middle of the room to watch. “No need to act for the cameras today, Rachel. I want you to scream, cry, beg, whatever you think will get you out of here faster.”

It didn’t take long for Rachel to start panicking again. She tried kicking out with her feet but managed to only stub her toes against the wood. She tested her upper body next, finding her arms similarly bound. The pain in her shoulders quickly ended those struggles. That’s when the screaming began. For the most part, it was unintelligible, save for a litany of “Help” and “Please.” I let this die out before I got up from my chair, taking care to scrape the legs against the floor, reminding her that I was still here. I slowly perused my wall of toys, picking up a leather belt, swinging it through the air, and then replacing it. I considered a solid oak paddle, hefting it carefully before smacking it firmly against my open palm. It stung, and the skin reddened immediately, but the sound had its desired impact: Rachel stopped. Stopped everything. She stopped crying, stopped struggling, she was even holding her breath to try and capture any minute sound I made.

I replaced the paddle, instead selecting a thin rattan cane. I tested its flexion between my hands, producing a whistling sound as I swung it through the air several times. Rachel screamed as I poked her with the cane, digging its point into her ass cheek, still covered in a neon pink pair of panties. I drew the cane across her lower back, watching her shiver as it traced its way across her. I lightly tapped it against the clasp of her bra before sliding the tip of the cane in between the garment and her body, running it under the fabric against the side of her chest.

“You need to listen better, Rachel.”

“I did, I did everything you asked. What do you want from me?”

“If you had listened, would you still be wearing these?” I gave her a quick slap with the cane against her ass.

“Please, just untie me and I’ll take them off, I swear.”

“Oh, no need. I’ll do it myself.” Gripping her panties with both hands, I tore them violently from her body. She jumped as the fabric wedged between her sensitive lips, digging into the skin. After pulling them from her body, I was pleasantly surprised to find a small damp spot in the middle of them. “Does this turn you on, Rachel? I think it does.” Her bra clasp was on her back, directly in front of me, but rather than simply undoing it, I pulled a knife from my pocket, slicing through the straps across her shoulders. Reaching around her, I viciously mauled one breast while sliding the knife between the two cups, the flat of the blade against her bare skin making her shiver. “Be very careful,” I warned her, pulling the blade away from her, her bra coming with it. “You wouldn’t want me to…” The knife slid through the material and it fluttered to the ground, “slip.”

“Now,” another slap across her ass, this one far more vicious. She jerked against her bonds, screaming. Once she had calmed down, I continued. “Since you seem to have me all figured out, tell me why my wife isn’t here.”

“Oh please, I don’t know, just don’t hit me again.”

“No idea? Very well then.” The next blow landed across her upper thighs, drawing a deep red welt across the smooth flesh. “What about now?” Nothing but hysterical cries and sobs, so I struck her again, right across the ass. “ANSWER THE QUESTION, RACHEL.”

“IDONTKNOWIDONTKNOWIDONTKNOW.”

“Guess.”

“Uhhhh.” She was stalling for time, so I gave her another lash across her shoulders. “SHE WANTED KIDS.”

“What was that?”

“She wanted kids and you didn’t. That’s why she left-why she isn’t here.”

I sat down audibly in the chair behind her. “That’s a really good answer, Rachel. Why do you say that?”

“It-it was just a guess.” I admired my handiwork as her crying subsided. She had two bright red welts crossing her ass cheeks, another across her thighs, and one, not nearly as bright or as swollen, across her upper back. “Does this mean you’ll let me go?”

“I’ll release you from there.” I stood from my chair and, drawing my arm back, brought the cane down as hard as I could against her ass. She screamed, jerking against her restraints. Her shoulders would be getting very sore by now, especially with the way she was struggling, but the cane was the immediate threat and she was doing everything she could to avoid it. “But only once you give me the correct answer.” Rachel was still crying heavily, but once her screaming stopped, I continued. “I’ll give you one lash for every wrong answer. Two any time I think you’re stalling. Better start thinking, Rachel. Why’d she leave?”

“Your work schedules weren’t compatible?” SLAP. “Money problems?” SLAP. A pause. SLAP. SLAP. “She cheated on you?” SLAP. “OH MY GOD, PLEASE STOP!” SLAP. SLAP. “BECAUSE YOU’RE AN ABUSIVE SON OF A BITCH AND SHE COULDN’T TAKE ANY MORE!” Another pause, this time on my end.

“I – SLAP – WAS – SLAP – A – SLAP – GOOD – SLAP – HUSBAND.” I continued striking her with the cane, across her back, her ass, her thighs, I was swinging almost blindly. A small voice in the back of my head said that I shouldn’t be doing this while I was angry, but that voice was overwhelmed by the shrieks of rage sounding through the rest of my brain.

“MERCY. PLEASE HAVE MERCY. MERCCCCCCYYYYYYY.”

That was finally enough to stop my furious thrashing. Rachel was bawling now, but what surprised me were the tears I felt welling in my own eyes. I dropped the cane against the ground. “You want mercy?” I stroked the welts across her ass, grabbed a cheek and shook it, eliciting more pained cries from her. “You come into my house, shove a picture of my late wife in my face, and then ask for mercy.” The anger was bubbling back up and I raked my fingernails down her back, scraping over several swollen lines and developing bruises.

“PLEASE. I DIDN’T KNOW. I DIDN’T. I WOULDN’T HAVE DONE IT IF I HAD, YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME.”

With my fingers, I traced several of the welts on her firm, round ass. She winced but made no move to get away from my trailing fingers. I let them slide between the cleft of her ass cheeks, feeling her clench as they brushed against her puckered opening. Slowly, I stroked her thigh up and down before reaching between her legs. Rachel shook as if she had been shocked and I sat down bodily in my chair, quite sure of what I had felt. Rachel was wet, dripping down her leg.

“I want you to tell me something Rachel.”

“What? Just tell me what it is you want to hear, I’ll say it.”

“That’s not how it works. I want you to be honest. Does this turn you on? Did you enjoy today, even a little?”

“YOU SICK FUCK, no, I didn’t enjoy this. You think I’d like being tied up and raped and beaten by some creepy guy as old as my dad?”

I remained seated. I brought my hand to my face, breathing in her scent from my fingers. No, I wasn’t wrong. Rachel’s mind may not have enjoyed today’s session so far, but some part of her body had. Not as strong as a response as Amber when she had been in Rachel’s position; she had literally gushed as I plied her body with pain. Standing, I began releasing the bindings from her ankles, leaving the cuffs in place but unhooking them from the cross. I whispered in her ear as I reached to unfasten her wrists, “I’m going to release you, but I don’t believe you. You still have one more task before we’re through today.”

Pulling her down from the cross, I gave her no time to shake the discomfort from her shoulders as I quickly cuffed her arms behind her back. I slid a leather harness over her legs and tightened it around her waist and thigs before shoving her to her knees and linking the two ankle cuffs together. Rachel tested out her new mobility, such as it was, by trying to awkwardly waddle away from me on her knees. Her frantic struggle to get away from me ended abruptly as she noticed me standing in front of my wall of toys. I could tell, even without looking, that I had her full attention as I passed my hand over the various tools of torture hanging from my wall. I rested my hand over some of them, letting her watch and worry, but I had already decided on our next game. I selected only three objects: a pair of alligator clips, a rather bulbous vibrator, and its accompanying remote.

Placing the clips and the remote in my pocket, I tried to secure the vibrator against her clit using the thigh harness. Not surprisingly, she struggled against that, trying to shuffle away from me while keeping her legs closed tight. A vicious slap to the side of her face brought her resistance to a halt as she spread her legs and allowed me to adjust the straps around her waist and thighs, ensuring the vibrator remained in place. My hands were slick from her juices by the time I had finished, and I shoved two fingers in her mouth to let her taste herself on me. She bit down on them. Hard enough to hurt, but not enough to break the skin. “Still haven’t learned, have you, Rachel?”

Pulling the alligator clips from my pocket, I also turned a dial on the remote, activating her vibrator at a low setting. I knelt to suck one of her nipples into my mouth, rolling the other into a hard, little bud. Without warning, I placed the alligator clip firmly against one nipple and, after one last flick of my tongue, clipped her other nipple as well. She cried out as the sharp metal teeth bit into her sensitive flesh. Retrieving a small, gnarled stem, I stood a few feet in front of her, her eyes locked on mine. “Do you like ginger, Rachel?” She merely glared at me as I whittled down the root on one end to a roughly one-inch diameter plug. She tried to turn on her knees as I walked behind her, but she wasn’t fast enough. I shoved her to the floor and, without her hands to break her fall, she landed painfully directly on her breasts and face. I thumbed a button on the remote, delivering a small but powerful shock to her most sensitive area and, while she was focused on the pain emanating from her pussy, I inserted the ginger root into her puckered rosebud. I pulled her to back to her knees before sitting down in the chair in front of her, cranking up the intensity of the vibration.

“I would’ve liked to have done this without the ginger, Rachel.” At this point, she would be slightly uncomfortable with the intrusion into what I was sure was her virgin asshole, but the burning would be mild enough she might not have taken notice yet. “Instead, we have to do this the hard way.” Over time, the pain in her nipples, the burning in her ass, and the ministration from the vibrator ought to be enough to overwhelm her, for now, the look on her face was clear which sensation was most dominant in her mind.

Her eyes began rolling back and her body flushed with sweat. “D-do w-w-what? Ohhhhhh.” She moaned, long and loud, and I increased the vibration yet again.

“You know, it’s been a real long time since I’ve had a sexy teenager swallow my cum.” I waited, seeing if she’d take the bait, make a crack about my age. She didn’t. She was barely paying attention, her focus instead on her impending orgasm. “Once you do that, you go home. Can you do that, Rachel?” She tried to respond, couldn’t find words, and nodded instead. I watched as her body began trembling and, just before her orgasm crashed over her, turned the vibration down to its lowest setting while delivering a powerful shock to her. She cried. Whether from frustration or pain, I couldn’t tell. “But, let’s make things interesting. For every minute that it takes, we’re going to add some weight to those clamps attached to those lovely tits of yours.”

Rachel was shuffling towards me when she first noticed the burning sensation in her ass. By this time, it ought to be quite strong, and her facial expression ensured to me that it was having the desired effect. She rubbed the skin off her knees trying to close the distance between us and dove against my still-clothed groin. She wasn’t wasting time, grasping for the button on my jeans with her mouth, unhooking it on her third try. Coerced or not, it was a powerful feeling to watch this sexy young woman eagerly trying to undress me with her mouth, tugging at my zipper. Once she had my pants loosened enough, I stood up, removing them along with my boxers. “Unfortunately, Rachel, that took you a minute.” I pulled a container of weighted balls and attached one to either nipple clamp.

Afterwards, she buried my cock deep in her mouth in one try. It may have been intentional, or, without her hands to control her depth, it might’ve been gravity as she pitched forward to take me in. Either way, I enjoyed the feel of her warm tongue against my shaft, her throat squeezing around the head of my cock. Using the remote, I changed the settings to ramp up the vibration in waves while delivering electric shocks at random intervals. By this point she was struggling to breathe and was attempting to rock her mouth backwards off my engorged member. She couldn’t find the leverage, instead effectively face-fucking herself as she slid back down my cock after every attempt. It was enough to almost have me shooting my load down her throat but remembering her attempt at using my wife against me, I was able to will my orgasm back down. I pulled her back enough for her to take a single gasp for air before gripping her head and thrusting myself back in her mouth. Rachel looked at me in surprise, clearly not expecting such a violent assault. Then her eyes crossed as another electric current ripped through her pussy, setting her nerves on fire.

I continued pistoning in and out of her mouth, her mouth making delightful squelching sounds against me. I paused, ostensibly to let her breathe, before adding another weighted ball to each nipple. “Two minutes, Rachel.” Once again, I thrust myself deep in her mouth, only this time she met my thrust with one of her own, shoving her face forward to take all of me in, working her tongue feverishly against me. Gripping her hair, I began face-fucking her in earnest, her breasts swinging wildly with the extra weight on them. Now, either desperate to cum or to make the pain stop, she let me have my way with her. I could feel her relax her jaw in what must’ve been a rather difficult task with the sensory onslaught she was already facing. I stopped thrusting, still half buried in her mouth, but she kept slamming her face down into my pelvis, deepthroating me with ease.

She cried when I withdrew from her mouth again. I did, as well, just preventing my orgasm. “Please, come fuck my face. I’ll swallow it all, PLEASE.”

“Rules are rules, Rachel.” I placed another pair of weights on her and she was back on me as soon as I had stood back up. I couldn’t remember ever having a woman suck me like this, and it was a mere thirty seconds before she brought me to orgasm. I pulled out of her mouth, shooting my cum on the floor in a thick, milky-white puddle.

“NOOOOO, THAT’S NOT FAIR.” She looked at me, pleading for release. I looked from her to where the remnants of my orgasm sat pooling on the floor. She grimaced, her face contorting with rage and hatred as she caught my meaning. “No. Absolutely not. No. THAT’S DISGUSTING.”

“Have it your way.” I flicked another button on the remote, killing the vibration and instead delivering powerful shocks to her in one second intervals. By the third, she had rolled over onto her side, trying to get at my cum without landing directly on her now incredibly sore nipples. By the fifth, she was lapping at the floor like a dog, oblivious to the pain in from her breasts and ass, scraping her tongue across the floor to suck up every drop. Satisfied, I turned off the vibrator. “Very good, slut. Now, which would you like removed first: the ginger or the clamps.

“THE GINGER. PLEASE, IT BURNS.” I pulled the root roughly from her ass, and she turned to me, presenting her swollen, purple nipples. I removed these as well, enjoying the look of relief on her face, knowing what was to come. Certainly enough, within seconds her engorged nipples filled with blood and her nerve endings felt like they were on fire. Rachel screamed, rolling on the ground in agony.

A plan began forming in my mind, whispering ethereally through my brain, just grazing the reach of conscious awareness before flitting off again. I tried to chase the line of thought but ended up merely watching the struggling teen on my basement floor. Watching, and reminiscing.

*****

Sometime later, having left Rachel alone to dress herself and leave, I stood watching her taillights as they turned out of my driveway, following them until they disappeared down the road. Then I got in my truck, heading in the opposite direction once I reached the road. Relaxing as I traveled the familiar country roads, I thought about the next steps. I still wasn’t entirely sure where those steps were headed, but they seemed right and I was trusting my instincts on this one.

I would need a few things first. It was about an hour before closing time when I pulled into the parking lot. The electronics shop seemed pretty dead right now if the lot held any indication. Strolling through the store, I grabbed a cheap flash drive before finding an employee to help me with my next purchase.

Her nametag indicated I was talking to Rebecca. She had a pixie-ish face, framed by bright auburn hair, that I couldn’t decide if I found attractive or not, but her body didn’t need any pondering. The little bit of extra weight she held on her seemed well distributed between her chest and hips, exaggerated to the point of appearing almost caricaturist. “How can I help you today?” She beamed at me and, upon smiling, I decided that yes, I did find her attractive.

“I’m looking for a new phone. Really, just an upgrade over my current model. I reckon it’s time. This one’s slowing down, and I could probably use the extra storage space,” I told her, waving my current cell phone in front of her.

“Okay, if you’ll follow me.” As she led, I watched her ass sway in front of me, careful this time to return my eyes to a level gaze when she reached the sales counter. “Alright, so this model here has more storage, as well as a faster processing speed. Really, you only need that if you’re playing a lot of games or using a lot of memory-intensive apps on your phone.” She glanced at me; I shook my head. Giggling softly, she continued, “That’s what I figured. I would probably recommend this one.” She handed me a small pamphlet containing the phone’s specifications, explaining the various new features as I read. “Slower processing speed than the higher-end model, but should be sufficient for most day-to-day use. The camera’s improved, you now get much better pictures with it, brighter colors, more clarity. If you look here-“

“I’ll take it.” Seeing the look of bemused surprise on her face, I explained, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off. I’ve done a little research before coming in, and for all I actually use my phone for, this one will more than suffice.”

“Well, okay then. Follow me and we can get this set up for you.”

“You know, if you wanted to practice your sales pitch, I’ll let you finish. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

She laughed, a full-throated chuckle. “If you don’t need it, I don’t really feel like going through it, if that’s alright. It gets a bit monotonous when you have to do it several times a day.” Nodding agreeably, I laughed with her. She took a seat, offering one on the other side of the counter to me. “Activation usually only takes a couple minutes, and then we’ll have you out of here.” Rebecca typed things into the computer in front of her, occasionally digging through the phone’s included paperwork for a serial number or registration code. I studied her while she worked. She had a woman’s body, but she was clearly still a teen. I suspected that, rough as high school could be, she had suffered some abuse over her extra weight. Similarly, I suspected that any man that got past second base with her found her body quite delightful.

“If you’d like, I can copy all your data from your old phone to your new. It doesn’t take long.” I declined her offer, even as a shiver of excitement ran through me at the thought of the sexy young saleswoman accidentally coming across some of the pictures on my phone. I wondered if Rebecca would recognize the young woman in those pictures. After all, they looked like they would be about the same age.

“I’m sorry to distract you, you can keep working. I was just wondering if you know my niece, Rachel Peck? Sorry, you just look familiar is all, thought I might’ve seen you hanging around her once.”

Her eyes lit up as she broke into a wide smile. “Know her? She’s been my best friend for like forever.” Her smile faltered, “I’m sorry, though, I don’t remember seeing you around. I’m terrible with faces.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, I maybe haven’t been the best uncle always. Just tell her I said ‘hi’ next time you see her.”

Rebecca glanced around the store conspiratorially. “I’m not really supposed to do this, but for Rachel’s family, I think I could probably give you my employee discount.”

“Are you sure? That’s really sweet of you.”

“Of course. You just have to promise to make sure you go visit her soon. I know how important her family is to her.”

“Before the week is through, Rebecca.” She smiled, rang up my purchase, and I left the store about 15 minutes before closing time. A quick stop at home, and then I thought I would go and see RJ, now that he’s finally back home.
1 comments

Dudley DowrongReport

2019-04-21 12:32:54
Voted today! Ur intrigue & mystery of"What on earth is he planning now?" Of course the age & name "Becky" jolted his memory hoping she might be the "other end off the cell connection" the night of the collision. Now he knows.(Best Friend) This is the sort of technique that engages the reader as a participant in the story rather than just an observer or spectator watching the "game play out"!!
Great use of that primes. We still don't know why Amber left.. Hopefully we will figure that out before the conclusion...YOU have great potential Continue to enlarge Ur works. I can see U as a film writer. Do whatever it takes to find Ur place.!!

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