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DEER02 camera and took several shots



This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you
are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or
unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this
type of material is illegal where you are, don't read
any further.

This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench
on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in
which physical acts and human responses are not limited
to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and
responses in this story may be physically impossible
and/or physiologically improbable.

Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this
newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful -
gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused breasts to
droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces. The
men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.
They can get it up and keep it up often and at will.
In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs,
morals, or unwanted pregnancies. Guilt is a four-
letter word. Most important of all, neither strength
of character, courage of convictions, nor moral belief
stand a chance against any erotic stimulus. This can
be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle
or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals.

For those of you who didn't understand the preceding
statements, GO AWAY!

This story is intended for the salacious entertainment
of consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the
things described in this story. You could injure
yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her

If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.

If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited
where you are, GO AWAY!

By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility
for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure
that results from reading this story. If you don't, GO

You have been warned!

If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on
a <free> site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for

So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy
the story!....:)


A Deer in the Headlights

Chapter 2

By Nightshade

It was not lost on me that on that particular day my
car had gotten royally fucked by the little minx and
all I had gotten was a peck on the cheek and set of
seriously aching blue balls. I had learned to shrug
off most of life's little injustices, but somehow this
one really galled me. Yeah, it had been by my own
choice, I know. But still, it rankled.

I spent most the rest of that day and far into the
night burning the whole series of jpegs onto a writable
CD-ROM. I had taken a lot of pictures of her
performance, but even then it took longer than it
should have as I had to keep cleaning off the keyboard
and the monitor screen. Yeah, I jerked off, but, well,
you would have, too. She was one fine looking lady.

Needless to say, the photos were sensational. Even as
biased as I was, having taken them, I could tell these
were golden, hot. The whole story was there, from the
first ass-giggling movements when she started by
bending over the hood and ending with her gut-wrenching
orgasm on the hood ornament. I was blurry-eyed when
the last photo was cropped and enhanced, but the
slideshow I produced was first class. It was hot
enough to melt the computer chips that would run it.

Damned if janet didn't ring that fucking doorbell at
7:30 sharp. I staggered to the door, forgetting to put
on my robe. Her grin nearly blinded me when she saw me
in my shorts, my tired and sore pecker sticking out at
half-mast with a morning woody.

"Grab a shower and come on over, sir. I've just put
the coffee on. I, uh, saw your lights on late and
figured you wouldn't be ready quite this early." With
that she turned and bounced back over to her own house.

I showered, shaved, and dressed - complete with my
Dockers and sandals, this time. I also grabbed a small
bag I had prepared the night before - just in case.

Her back door was open and there were more aromas than
coffee spilling out into the dew-laden morning air. I
identified bacon immediately, that being one of the
many forbidden foods at my house. I also recognized
the smell of fresh baked croissants. I'm afraid I
stood in the door and just salivated for a minute or
two. If the way to a man's heart was through his
stomach, janet had prepared for open-heart surgery.

As I stood there, the investigator in me automatically
cataloged the details of her home, or what I could see
of it. It struck me that the room reflected her
personality perfectly. Feminine, but with the wit and
humor of a strong intelligence. The colors were
blended perfectly, giving an impression of warmth, but
having an undercurrent of strong sensuality. And she
could cook, too!

Janet had to take me by the hand and pull me over to
one of the places she had set at the table. A sudden
attack of shyness overcame me as I stood there. I
suddenly wondered what the Hell I was doing there, and
if it had all been a glorious dream yesterday. I knew
that if I followed through today with what I had
planned last night in the heat of those pictures, it
could be a huge mistake. But the food smelled so good.
Maybe just a few bites, then I would leave. I let her
force me to the table. Yup, she did it. It was all
her fault. Hey, if Adam can blame the woman, so can I.

The croissants melted in my mouth, and there were more
of them than I could eat. She must have baked 3 or 4
dozen of them. She watched me eat each bite with an
innocent joy, seemingly fascinated by my huge appetite.
Piping hot eggs, creamy grits, crispy bacon and chicory
coffee. I half expected to see biscuits and gravy
appear on my plate next, but apparently she wanted to
eat light that morning.

Sated and stuffed, I sat back, thoughtfully caressing
the thick mug of hot coffee between my two hands. I
looked up to see janet watching me.

"Outstanding, Janet. Simply the best breakfast I have
ever had. Honest."

She blushed at the praise. "Thank you." She hesitated
a moment. "And thank you for yesterday, too."

Oh, Damn! There it was, lying right there on the table
among the detritus of an excellent breakfast. Damn!
Damn! Damn! The topic I was dreading and hoping for
all at the same time. Ball's in your court, mister.

"Yes. Well, uh, you know." I tapered off. A great
start, no?

She sensed my embarrassment. Hell, a dead man could
have sensed my embarrassment.

"I never did anything like that before." We both spoke
at the same time and stopped at the same place. And
burst out laughing at the same time.

The ice broken, we began to talk, openly and honestly.
She told me of her short, loveless marriage to my
neighbor. It was, in some ways, worse than my own.
The guy was a mortician and thought it was an exciting
job. He came home smelling like death and was then
even more lifeless in bed than his clients. She was
not a virgin any longer, having waited for marriage,
but she might as well have been for all the fucking she
didn't get.

When she told me she was as celibate as I was, I looked
at her in disbelief. She must have seen the look on my
face as she asked me if I thought she should have gone
out and picked up something from a bar or a street
corner. I stammered that it was hard to believe
someone as beautiful as she was would be forced into
abstinence. She shot back that she couldn't understand
how someone as handsome as I was should be in the exact
same situation, and I had a job where I could get out
of the house and therefore had more opportunities than
she did, locked in her suburban prison.

Touch‚. Point to the lady.

Despite the compliment she paid me, I had never
considered myself handsome. Rugged, maybe, but not
gigolo handsome. I kept myself in shape, and for my
age, my doctor said I was doing fine. I still wish he
hadn't used that fucking qualifier, though. I was well
aware of the effects of my age. Remember the glasses?

I asked her straight out how she had ended up with my
neighbor. I had never even known he had gotten
married, and we had lived next to each other for close
to fifteen years. She said she had developed an
unfounded deep-seated fear of dominant men growing up,
probably helped along by too much `women's' propaganda
and all the white-male bashing, testosterone hating
feminists in the public school systems. She had fallen
for her husband because of his passiveness, which she
has misinterpreted as gentleness. She had had no idea
how lonely you could get living with someone else.

I asked where he went every weekend.

"Oh, he goes to Momma's."

A sudden surge of panic flashed through me when I heard
that name and I bolted upright, suddenly alert for
danger. I damn near tipped over the chair. I
envisioned that this whole thing had all been an
elaborate setup, just to get my wife her excuse for a
divorce. The panic began to well up within my throat,
spoiling the excellent breakfast. Then sanity kicked
back in and I took a deep breath. Janet's eyes were
huge as she watched this silent drama play out on my
face. I smiled sheepishly.

"Let me guess," I ventured weakly, after I could
finally talk again. "`Momma' is a short, beady-eyed,
sharp-nosed woman with a voice like fingernails on a
blackboard and a face that makes her voice sound
soothing. Her kids hate her, but dote on her every
whim. She makes frequent demands on their time, which
they can only fulfill by giving up all their time with
their own spouses. She has money, which she never
spends, and she holds the possibility of that
inheritance over their heads, clubbing them with her
`Will' at every opportunity. You and I both know all
the money will go to the fucking cats, but her stupid
kids, blinded by greed, haven't figured that out yet.
Besides, she will probably outlive them all, anyway.

"Only one opinion counts, and that's hers. If your
opinion turns out to be right, it was hers all along
and you stole it from her. She picked you out for her
son, but you have never been good enough. She berates
you in front of him at Christmas for your shortcomings,
and berates him all the rest of the year for his. She
has never contributed anything to society, but acts as
if the rest of the world should be thankful she is
alive. Oh yeah, she has six trophy heads mounted on
the study wall. That about right?"

She had been laughing so hard she had to hold her sides
as I described `Momma' to her. She queried me about
the trophy heads.

"Ex-husbands," I explained.

This brought such a violent fit of laughter, I thought
she would choke on her tongue. Getting back a bit of
control she simply held up four fingers. I took that
to indicate that her husband's Momma had been a
slacker, and said as much.

She looked around with a horrified look on her face to
see if anyone had heard my derogatory comments, but
then remembered it was just the two of us. Still, the
sudden spontaneous flash of fear in her eyes at that
moment touched a kindred feeling in my own soul. We
were perhaps more alike than we had realized.

It was after noon before we knew it. By then, we had
gone over both my situation and hers in agonizing
detail. I found I liked her, and that she felt the
same way about me, in spite of our ages. I was old enough to be her father, as she was barely into her

The silences lingered as we listened to the big
grandfather clock strike the hour. It continued to
linger until it became obvious and awkward between us.

"About yesterday." What the fuck. Might as well just
jump in, right?

"Yes?" She was suddenly serious and alert. Intense.
Her willingness and readiness to talk about it cared
the shit out of me.

I looked her right in the eyes. "Did you, uh, enjoy
what happened?"

She blushed. "You couldn't tell?"

It was my turn to blush. My hand still smelled of her
juices, as I had held it outside the shower door when I
washed up that morning. "Well, I thought you did, but
I just wanted to make sure."

"Yes, I did." She said it simply, as if she too had
wrestled with the question all night, as well. She
probably had, but didn't show it. Ah, the resiliency
of youth.

Now the killer question. "Would you like to do more?"

"Yes," no hesitation, no doubts, "I want to do it all."
Damn! She had thought about this.

"Now?" My voice was quivering, in both hope and fear.

"Yes." Her voice was a bare whisper. I looked up from
my intense study of the tabletop and saw her eyes were
closed. Tears were leaking from them but, as she was
smiling, I didn't think she was sad.

"Just one thing."

I jerked back to attention as she continued.

"Yes. What?"

"You have to wear just your boxers, like you did
yesterday." She was grinning so impishly, I half
expected to see half-eaten feathers, paws and whiskers.

I thought about that, then grinned. "I can live with
that. Any other restrictions?"

"No, sir.. but it would be nice to know your name."

I nearly crawled under the table from shame. I hadn't
even noticed. Shit, damn, hell and fuck, what a dunce!
According to one of the manuals I had downloaded from
the `Net last night, "Domination for Dummies" I think,
or "SDBM for Dyslexics" maybe, it had said to never
allow the submissive get the upper hand. I was
supposed to turn any smart-ass banter to my advantage.

Of course, as I had browsed through the manual, I
realized I had pretty much broken every rule in it
already, and I had only been a Dom for less than 24
hours at that point. So I figured I'd wing it. It had
seemed to work for me so far. I mentally crawled out
from under the table. I thought back to the emotions I
was feeling yesterday. The anger, the heat, the
passion. I tapped into the memories.

I scowled at her, eyes blazing, "`Sir' will do nicely,
but if you do need to address me in public, you may
call me `John'." I pitched my voice just short of a

The effect was amazing. She paled and seemed to shrink
in front of my face. I could see her lip trembling.
She really thought she had screwed up. She looked like
she was going to cry. I guess I'm just a big softie,
and I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stand to see
her afraid. I wanted - and she wanted - domination,
not terror. I winked at her.

She blinked as she suddenly realized I was just acting.
As she began to relax, I stood suddenly, this time
sending my chair crashing to the floor behind me. I
moved to stand behind her chair. I towered over her.
She was forced to tip her head all the way back to keep
me in view. I fixed her gaze with my own, continuing
to glare at her angrily. Her bottom lip trembled so
daintily, I almost melted into the chair with her. But
not yet.

"Stand up!" I snapped the command, leaving no room for
questions. There were none.

"Are you wearing panties?"

She nodded. I simply held out my hand and waited. The
silky undergarments soon rustled to the floor and then
settled into my palm. They were damp. I stifled a
grin as I felt the dampness cool on my skin. I raised
them to my nose and inhaled in an overly obvious
manner. This caused her to blush a deeper red, as it
was obvious even without holding them to my nose that
she was secreting her juices. When I stuffed them into
the pocket of my shorts it looked like she was about to
protest. They were a delicate and expensive pair. She
had been hoping I might see them, I think, just not in
this manner. Tough shit.

I took stock of what she was wearing. It would not
suit what I intended to do for the rest of the day.
They were too nice. I needed something I could rip up
or cut off if I needed to.

"Bring me the clothes you were wearing yesterday."

She didn't move immediately, so I leaned forward and
swatted her ass sharply.


She squealed in mock fear as she scampered out of the
kitchen. I heard her thumping footsteps on the floor
directly above, which told me where the master bedroom
was. Soon she was standing in front of me, panting
from the exertion of running up and down stairs. She
held the soiled T-shirt and shorts in her hands.

"Where are the panties?"

Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. A second
swat caught her behind as she rushed back up to get the
dirty undergarment. She seemed to enjoy the swats so
much, I almost wondered if she had forgotten the
panties intentionally. I wouldn't have put it past
her. She was sharp and good at getting what she
wanted. Well, today I intended for her to get all she
wanted and more.

Flushed and with a fine sheen of perspiration touching
her forehead, she handed the missing panties to me. I
sniffed this pair as well, and stuck them in my pocket
with the others. This pair was mine. Plain cotton,
dime a dozen, but God, what a fragrance!

She had lost her shoes in her hurry. They were high-
heeled sandals, totally inappropriate for around the
house. So was her tight black leather mini-skirt and
peach-colored silk blouse. She definitely knew how to
dress to bring out her colors. She looked as if she
could have stepped straight out of a fashion photo-

I stared at her bare feet until she realized what I
wanted. I got to spank her a third time as she bolted
to the bottom of the stairs, where she had kicked them
off. I held out my hand out for them as well. She
placed them in my hand.

I folded the shirt neatly, then the shorts, then placed
the high heels on top of the neat stack of dirty
clothes. I handed the neat stack to her and pointed to
a small room off the kitchen I had already determined
was the pantry.

"Go put these on. Just those, nothing else.

She nodded silently.

"Bring me the clothes you are wearing."

Two minutes later she was again standing before me,
dressed as she had been the day before, with the
addition of the shoes. They were a nice addition.

I took her expensive silk blouse and retrieved a hanger
from the hall closet. I hung it neatly on the hanger
and hung the short skirt below it. Her eyes widened as
she saw the care I took with her expensive clothing. I
think if she had had any doubts about what we were
about to do, the care I took not to ruin the things she
cared about eased them completely. The dainty bra I
placed over the hanger then took the matching pair of
panties from my pocket and placed them with the bra.

Next, I dropped my shorts, having only my boxers on
underneath. She couldn't keep the grin off her face as
she saw the head of my prick peeking out at her. She
licked her lips as she looked at it and I nearly raped
her then and there. But I had a plan. Stick to the
plan, damnit! I whipped off my shirt and sandals with
a flourish, and stood posing in front of her in just my
boxers. God, I loved to hear her laughter. It was
like water to a man in the desert.

When I finished posing for her - or ex-posing, more
correctly, I turned to glare at her again.

"Is there a computer in the house?" I knew there was.
I had seen the boxes they came in being tossed in the

She nodded, taken a little aback by this question.
Good. At least I could surprise her.

"Well? Take me to it!" I got to spank her perky
little ass again. I was beginning to like this dom

She led me to a locked door on the first floor of the
house and then hesitated again. It was obviously her
husband's office. This time I didn't push her. She
was afraid of something, and I didn't want to make her
do anything that might get her into real trouble with
him. Sure, as if what I had planned was any less
despicable than breaking into a locked office.

Taking a deep breath, she seemed to come to a
resolution of the conflict in her mind. She reached
down and lifted a loosened edge of the carpet. hidden under the loose flap was the key to the door. She
unlocked the door and eased it open. She replaced the
key and the carpet carefully, and then stepped inside
the darkened room. She stepped so lightly I thought
the room was wired with an alarm, so I waited outside
the door for her to disarm it.

She turned and looked at me.

"Is it safe?" I asked.


"You were being so careful. I thought maybe there was
an alarm or something."

"Oh, no! It's just, well, Darrin doesn't like me in
here even when he's here. He'd shit if he knew I knew
where he hid the key."

"Oh. We don't have to - ." I was stopped by a
derisive snort. Very ladylike, that.

"Fuck him," she interrupted me. She pointed. "There's
the computer."

I was still outside the room and as I looked in, I
noticed something odd. The monitor's screen was not
visible from either the door where I was standing or
from the window. Not that that was odd in itself, it's
just that it would have been a whole lot better use of
the available space if he had arranged the furniture
differently. The investigator in me was piqued and I
filed that question away to be researched later. Right
now I had a hot willing woman to defile, and I was
looking forward to it.

I walked over to the desk and looked at his office
chair. It was perfect for what I had in mind. I
motioned her over to sit in the chair. I studied the
PC briefly, then turned it on. As it was booting, I
walked around the room, opening the curtains wide and
adjusting the lamps in the room to cast their light on
the quiet figure in the desk chair. When I was done,
the light was adequate for my needs.

The PC beeped at me, asking for a password. Figures
the old fart would try to keep everyone out. That just
raised my curiosity another notch. What was this guy
trying to hide? A double set of books, perhaps? Nah,
not from a mortuary. Maybe he had a double life?
Maybe he was a hit man for the Mob! Wouldn't that just
be a fine twist?

I took a special disk out of my small bag and re-booted
the machine using the floppy drive. Poof! The
password was no longer needed! The computer guys in my
home office would deny providing us with that disk, but
most times folks didn't realize how incriminating a
home computer could be in a fraud investigation. They
would leave all kinds of stupid incriminating shit on

I slipped in the CD I had made the night before into
the D:> drive and started the program I had put on it.
Suddenly, janet saw herself in brilliant color on the
21" screen. I watched her eyes widen as she realized
who and what she was watching. She glanced up briefly
at me, blushed a delightful pink, smiled and then glued
her gaze on the screen. The slide show started at the
beginning with her bent over the hood of the car. I
had set the timer for about 5 seconds between shifts,
with some shots getting a longer duration.

She gasped as the pictures progressed. She literally
oozed sex on the screen, and I was glad to see it was
affecting her. I moved to stand behind her chair, then
got down on my knees so that our heads were at the same
level. Her eyes were riveted to the screen, as her
suggestive poses became more and more erotic. I saw
her moisten her lips and her breathing became

I leaned forward and began to whisper suggestive, dirty
ideas into her ear. "Look at that slut. Look how hot
she is. See how she teases the men. She deserves to
be spanked for acting like that. She deserves to be
punished. Spanked hard." Things like that. On and
on, whatever came to mind.

As I whispered these things and others to her, she
tipped her head back against the headrest, her cheek
next to mine, moving her ear closer to my mouth. She
kept her eyes on the screen. When she began to squirm,
I felt she was ready.

I reached forward with one hand and slid it under her
knee. Gently I urged her to lift her leg up over the
arm of the chair. I whispered to her to do her other
leg the same way and she did, as if in a dream.

"Touch yourself, Janet." It was my first direct
command to her to do something like that, and I
wondered if she would surrender something as intimate
as that for me. I waited, holding my breath.

Groaning from deep within herself, she moved her hands
downward towards her splayed crotch. Her hands moved
so slowly, it seemed as if she were fighting an inner
conflict. But first one hand, then the other slipped
under the band of her tight shorts. I could see by the
movement of the cloth over her cunt that both hands
were active. I let her get going good, then dropped
the bomb.

"Don't cum, Janet, until I tell you to. If you do,
I'll have to punish you."

As I spoke to her I reached around the chair and gently
fondled her unfettered breasts through the T-shirt. It
was my first grope of them, and they were everything
they promised to be. Firm and spongy, they molded
readily to my hands as she moved her chest to force
them harder into my palms. She was already worked up
from the picture show, so I focused on her rock-hard
nipples. As I tweaked them, I admonished her to keep
her fingers busy but not to cum. I used the word
`punish' a lot as I continued to whisper to her. It
seemed to incite her lust. I could sense her orgasm
building in her, and I pinched her twin peaks
particularly hard, rolling them as I did so.

"AAAaaahhhhh sshshhshshit. You bastard!" she hissed as
she came on her fingers. She wasn't mad at me, I don't
think, just sorry it had happened so fast. But she
wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"Keep those fingers working, Janet. That's just the
first one."

"Oh God, you're a tyrant. Oh, don't stop what you're
doing." I had moved my hand down over hers and was
pressing them down into her cunt. I smiled.

"You know I'm going to have to punish you now."

She nodded, meekly. But I noticed a tremor pass
through her as she sat there.

I removed my hands from her crotch, and then stood
after telling her to keep watching the show and to keep
her hands busy. I also nuzzled her hair before I stood
up. She smelled so good. She noticed me smelling her
hair and I saw her grin in happiness. She was a
picture of contrasts, the wanton waif, the innocent
slut. A Beauty.

The first thing I did was to shift the desk chair out a
bit from the desk and position it at an angle. She
could still see the slideshow of her lewd car wash, but
I could also see her clearly as she sat legs akimbo in
the chair. She didn't even notice when I pulled out
the small camera and took several shots of her
masturbating. When I began to give her directions, she
looked up, grinned and went back to her own pleasure,
following my obscene directions but ignoring the
camera. It looked like an innocent girl caught
unawares in a very private moment.

She licked her fingers clean of her own juices at my
suggestion, held a bared tit up towards her mouth and
touched the tip of her tongue to her nipple. That shot
was a particularly hot one. Don't know why, really. I
guess guys are just jealous that girls have tits and
tongues that can touch. Whatever. I got hot just
thinking about that shot. But others were just as
good. Like the ones where she pressed her fingertip
against her ass-hole from the outside of her shorts.
The look of bewilderment at the pleasurable sensations
she gave herself when she touched herself back there
made me swear to myself to introduce her to anal sex at
the first opportunity.

After a while I put the camera down. She had
`disobeyed' me several times by now, and I felt it was
time to let her know a little of her punishment. Her
sandals were dangling from her toes, sexily swaying
with her spasms. I lifted each slightly, keeping them
on her feet. I hooked the long heels onto the edge of
the seat. This tipped her foot and forced her toes to
point straight down and widened her knees as wide as
possible. It made her lift her ass off the chair
slightly, too. I slid her ass to the edge of the seat,
making her slouch in the chair even more. Not
uncomfortable, but not a natural position either.

She whimpered just a little when I pulled the soft
thick cords from my small bag. Her fingers were a blur
inside her shorts as I looped the rope around first one
ankle, then the other. It was as if we were in a race,
as her finger actions became almost frantic. Just
those two ties were enough to bring her to four major
climaxes and she was chasing the fifth hard as I looped
a third rope around her chest. This rope passed under
her breasts and arms, leaving her arms free. I tied
this one off tightly to the back of the chair. She was
now pretty well locked into the position I wanted her
to be in. As she tried to move and realized her
helplessness, her hands moved even faster. Her eyes
never left the 21" screen. The slide show was having
more of an effect on her than I had even hoped. She
was really turned on.

I moved back and took more photos. Since she couldn't
move much and was preoccupied anyway, I moved around
and shot her from every angle I could think of. The
one I liked best was from down low in front of her,
looking up between her thighs. I had her look down and
give me a `sexy' look. The look she gave me nearly
sent me diving for her pussy in a fit of lust. Then
the camera started beeping, and whirring. For a
moment, I thought it was having an orgasm of its own,
but it was merely a low battery notice. I plugged in
the adapter and continued taking pictures.

The next tie went around her tits. First, pulled her
shirt back down over those lovely mounds. It was hard
to do, but I didn't want them marred in any way. I fit
a sturdy rubber band around the base of each pliant
orb. I pushed the tough elastic bands as close to her
chest wall as I could before releasing them. The
elastic compressed the firm flesh, eventually making it
bulge out away from her chest like it was being
squeezed off. But it wasn't that tight. Each band had
a small metal ring attached to it that I positioned in
the lower medial quadrant of each breast.

Then I used a thin cord and made several loops around
each bulging tit. The loops started at the nipples and
spiraled inward towards her chest. I pulled the cords
taut, but not too tight. The cloth of her thin T-shirt
protected the soft skin from the digging twine, and it
also allowed the twine to slide without making a
friction burn on the skin. I ran the long ends through
the metal rings and left the ends of the thin cords
hanging down her stomach. I committed that tie to
digital memory as well, zooming in on the visible
nipples pressing hard against the thin fabric. The
site of her deformed tied tits was disturbingly
mesmerizing, and even though the tie didn't cause her
much pain, their misshapen forms sent a sinister quiver
pulsing through my iron hard cock.

Her eyes were blurred pools of lust as I eased her
hands out of her shorts. Her protests were half-
hearted as she stared at the screen. The rear fenders
were making acquaintance with her cunt lips, and her
arousal on screen seemed enough to drive her toward
another climax, even without the fingers. The heavy
stainless steel handcuffs clicked in the silence as the
ratchets tightened on her slender wrists. It wasn't
until she tried to slyly slip her hands back down to
her twat that the pain from her tits knifed through the
haze of lust and cleared her eyes.

The surprise, the wonder, the sudden flash of fury as
she realized that I was preventing her from finishing
herself off this last time. Then, as she looked at the
final tie, the realization sank in that I was not
stopping her at all, just making the price of her
ultimate pleasure higher, so to speak. The long
strands from the cords that spiraled around her swollen
tits had been tied to the center links of the
handcuffs, then pulled taut and tied off. Because the
cords ran through the metal rings, if she pulled her
hands towards her cunt, the cords would tighten on her
breasts. Tit for twat, if you don't mind a bad pun.

The slideshow was building to a climax as she
masturbated her way down the hood of my car. We both
knew the grand finale was next, with her fucking
herself with the hood ornament. The breath hissed out
of her as she forced her hands a fraction lower. My
camera never stopped clicking as she squeezed and
tortured those soft globes so that they bulged out
between the cutting strands of twine. She screamed
when the tip of one fingernail grazed her clit. I
thought she would tip the chair over backwards with the
shaking and shuddering she was doing.

"God damn you, sir. This is torture. Oh, God, I'm
cummmmmmmmmming.. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Oh,

My, my. Such naughty words! I remembered the idea of
stuffing that pretty little mouth with something to
keep it quiet. I reached into my little bag once more.
Her eyes widened as she saw my makeshift ball-gag. I
had threaded a thick rope through a tennis ball. It
was a bit large going in, but as the ball was
punctured, it collapsed easily. Of course, it wanted
to expand back to its original size once it was behind
her teeth, but that's what the rope was for. To keep
the expansion of the ball pressing down on her tongue.

God, she looked beautiful. Now all she had to
communicate with were her eyes. Those big brown puppy-
dog eyes.

After commemorating this new addition to her bondage
with another couple dozen pictures, I moved to the
front of her and got down on my knees. Fortunately
Darrin, her husband, kept his chair seat low to the
ground, because I didn't have to spin her down. She
was at just the right height. I walked on my knees
until my aching balls rested against her ass cheeks.
Then I rested my forearms on the arms of the chair and
leaned forward into her. She finally realized what I
was doing when her fingertips grazed the tip of my
throbbing cock. I thought she would tear off her tits as she lunged to grab on to me. She didn't seem to
mind the pain at all.

When she had lunged, I had shifted back just slightly
so that she couldn't get a good grip. She could only
use her fingertips. As she got the idea, she resigned
herself to only having that much contact with my cock,
even though she craved more. She kept trying to stuff
it into her cunt right through her shorts. Ouch!

The glaring look in her eyes told me I just might have
pushed her too far with this bit of teasing. But I
didn't give in to her. I did let her stroke me until I
coated her chin, tits and chest with a deluge of my
thick cream. Still throbbing, I just had to get some
shots of her mussed up like that.

As that last effort by her had really strained the
limits on the amount of torture her tits could bear, I
quickly loosened her from the bonds. She remained
seated until all the ropes were off and put away. I
looked up at her as I knelt to zip up my bag.

"Well, are you just going to sit there smelling like a
whore? Or would you like to go get cleaned up, and
dressed up again like you were this morning?" I
grinned as she squealed happily and ran up the stairs
to the shower. I gave serious thought to joining her,
but I had something to do first.

Darrin had a few too many secrets that didn't set
right. I know, we all have our little private stashes
that we really don't want anybody else to know about,
but to my profession sense, this felt like it was
something different. I sat at his desk and browsed the
computer for a while. I didn't notice anything
peculiar until I searched his desk. Neatly, of course!
Lock picking was a skill that they taught at the
insurance investigator's training course, although you
won't find it in the syllabus. It was just another one
of those handy little things. And desk locks. Ha!
Might as well leave a florescent note on whatever it is
you're hiding behind it saying, `Look at me! I'm in

Inside a locked drawer, neatly filed away, Darrin had a
whole collection of photos of guys having sex with dead
people and dead animals. Necrophilia. Fuck! As if he
didn't get enough of that at work. Suddenly, it struck
me. I looked back up at the family picture of a man and an old woman on his desk - obviously he and Momma.
I recognized with a start that he was in some of the
pictures. A lot of them. Having sex in coffins.

Knowing what to look for now, I found a whole trail of
photos and letters in a log file for a chat room. As
the water shut off in the shower upstairs, a germ of an
idea was planted in the back of my fertile brain.

Janet interrupted my growing germs by walking back into
the den. She had retrieved her clothes and two stemmed
glasses and a bottle of champagne, apparently to seduce
me with. Her tits bounced nicely behind the silk
blouse. I made a bet that the panties were still on
the hanger with her bra. I won.

She came up to me and held up her lips for a kiss. I
knew I could have had her then and there. She knew it,
too. But something told me to wait. Call it caution,
call it chicken shit, but I had heard that tiny voice
too many times to ignore it. I kissed her lips gently,
not allowing her to pull me into a passionate kiss.

"Go get my belt, Janet."

Her look was priceless. Here she was, ready, willing
and available, and I wanted my belt.


It was amazing how beautifully she responded to firm
commands. The belt was in my hands within minutes and
I had the added benefit of seeing her tits bouncing
crazily as she scurried back into the den with it. She
blushed as she noticed me watching her tits.

"Thank you. Now turn around."

She did so and I bound her hands behind her as I had
the day before. It was more symbolic than secure.
Taking her by her shoulders I turned her around to face
me, then gradually increased the downward pressure.
Her eyes widened as she realized what I was doing. I
sensed a momentary panic.

"Please, Sir. I've never."

My finger on her lips silenced her. I lowered myself
down with her so that we were both on our knees, facing
one another.

"Janet? I thought you wanted to do it all? You WILL
do this. I'll go slow and explain everything. But I
want no more protests. Is that clear?"

She nodded slightly, a tear sliding down her cheek. I
kissed the tear away and kissed her lips. Then I stood

My engorged manhood presented itself to her lips. It
stuck through the slit of my boxers and bounced a
little, in time with my racing pulse. I let her stare
at it for a while.

"Stick out your tongue..That's right..Now, just touch
it to the tip, right there where the hole is..Oh,
that's good!" She had made contact with it and had not
died or vomited. For the next twenty minutes I walked
her through the basics of cock-sucking. She actually
swallowed it all when I came in her mouth. I was proud
of her and told her so.

"It, it tasted, well, funny, Sir. I thought it would
taste bad. I.," she blushed "I liked it."

Not being ready to leave her yet, I lifted her up and
set her ass on the edge of the desk. Immediately she
spread her legs and lifted her heels up on the desk,
spreading herself wide open. I surprised her again
when, instead of burying my cock in her juicy cunt, I
fell to my knees and instead buried my tongue in it.

Later she admitted that had been the first time she had
ever been eaten out. She had never even imagined it
before. I gathered as much from her reaction, which
just about gave me whiplash as she bucked up and down
on the desk. I wanted her to remember this as a
pleasant experience and did the best I could to bring
her off as many times as possible.

After 30 minutes or so my knees were getting tired but
she wasn't, so I pulled her off the desk and lay down
on the floor on my back. I had her straddle my head
with her knees so that she was facing my feet. She
thought I was brilliant for knowing about the '69'
position and she caught on real quick that this could
be a mutually beneficial experience. The rest of
evening was spent in an oral Olympics.

Janet responded to every touch, every probe like it was
the first time she had ever been touched down there.
It most likely was. Her enthusiasm for cock-sucking
kept me hard most of the evening, but it didn't seem to
matter to her if I was hard, soft or in between. She
loved to suck on it.

Not that I minded sucking on her sweet little cunt,
either. It had been a long, long time since I had had
that particular pleasure. I intended to sample this
twat again.

I finally brought her to a last screaming climax, using
tongue and fingers in both bottom holes at around 9:00
that night. She came for what must have been three or
four minutes, thrashing and spasming on top of me.
When she finally lay still, I discovered she had fallen
into a deep sleep.

With great difficulty, I lifted her off me and carried
her upstairs. I untied her arms, stripped her of her
clothes, retied her arms loosely behind her back and
tucked her into the master bed. I hung her clothes up
on a hanger and left her house.

I slept soundly that night, better than I had in years.
It was only as I was drifting off that I realized I
hadn't fucked her. Oh, well.


End of Chapter

I hope you enjoyed it. :)

I hope you enjoyed it.... :)

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