The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The morning is such a rush. Never enough time, everything squeezed into a precise routine, a well-rehearsed schedule through which we rush with no time wasted in thought. Sara and Tom’s routine was completely disrupted one morning when Sara pulled open the draw containing her underwear and with that prickly feeling of fear crawling across her skin she stared down at a foreign set of black latex that was definitely not hers. Pinned to the panties was a simple note—no frills, just a few brief line of words scrawled across a scrap of paper, as if to remind her to buy some groceries on the way home. It simply said: “Wear these today. Ricky.”

Sara recoiled from the draw as she pushed it firmly shut pressing her hand flat against the front of the drawer as if it might otherwise open by itself. She was staring at her hands, white with the force she exerted to hold the drawer closed. She turned to Tom, still lying in bed right next to her and tried to compose herself. Normally Tom would lie there and watch her getting dressed before going to have his shower, but this morning was not normal. Perhaps no future morning will ever be again.

“You’d better get ready Tom. Go have your shower.”

Tom looked up at his wife and smiled with a slightly quizzical look on his face before he heaved himself out of bed. Tom too felt the strange unfamiliarity enveloping them from the break in their routine. It had an unsettling effect upon him. He could not put his finger on it, but he felt slightly apprehensive as he turned the taps on.

Once Tom was outside the room Sara again stared at the drawer before slowly pulling it back open. She looked at the dark shiny foreign material lying amongst her underwear. She felt a pang of anxiety at the realisation that someone else, no not someone, but someone who knew her; not just someone who knew her, but Ricky, had been looking through her underwear drawer. He had stood where she now stood and had examined everything that she wore so intimately and so privately. He had held them in his fingers, felt the material that pressed up against her body, felt the passion for her that had brought him all the way into her home to deliver his gift. What had he thought of them? Were they repulsive to him, surely they would be… Sara felt embarrassed. Perhaps he disapproved and that was why he had brought these new panties for her to wear. She picked them up and felt the glossy smoothness slippery in her hand. She became aware that her hand was damp and as she looked closer she saw the familiar oily gel that Ricky had used on her the other day. She started to shake as she remembered the effect it had had on her, how excited she had become, and how driven to distraction she was by her desire to be fucked by Ricky. Fucked, the word fuck echoed around in her mind, she toyed with it examining her reaction to this vulgar word that so aptly described her feelings that night. Yes if she wore these today then those unresolved feelings of desire would plague her throughout the day. She already felt excited at the mental picture she had concocted of herself sitting at her desk at work, legs splayed under it, dreaming of being spread across that desk top Ricky pumping in and out of her, her sloppy wetness in reaction to his onslaught, the fear and thrill of someone coming in at that precise moment and her true self being revealed, finally forced out into the open: her desire to be a fuck toy to this man. To give herself as the object of his desire, to deny him nothing, to be wanton for him and feel the grip of his passion freeze her. To openly and with complete disregard to whoever would see her, abandon herself and display herself being ripped open by him, to let all see how she too could not shake herself free from her desire, and to be so thoroughly fucked. Her need drove her: her need for her debasement, her animalistic need that was overriding all her normal behaviour, flouting all that was expected of her.

Sara gasped as these phantasms overtook her, drowning her in their reverie. She was still shaking, feeling appalled with herself. Some corner of her mind screaming for her to stop, she lifted her nightclothes and slipped her panties off. The latex with the gel oozing out the sides of the crotch, lay in her open palm. She marvelled for a brief moment at the jet black material contrasting against the whiteness of her skin, in her mind she watched herself standing before the mirror—the black V of the material rising up over her abdomen, forcing her long white slender legs apart, tapering down as an inverted V mirroring the rising dark material. The whiteness of her skin contrasting with the black smooth V forcibly pressing between her legs, holding her in, holding her open. Sara pulled her nightie off and slipped the panties on. She pulled them up as high and as tight against her crotch as she could, making sure there was no fold in the material. It had to be smooth to match the picture in her mind; the cool slickness of the gel pressing into her, a familiar and welcome tormentor.

As the sounds of Tom’s shower dribbled into the room she looked back at the drawer. She stood before it, her legs spread, the sensations of the sticky gel coating her once more already disturbing her train of thought. She found there a black latex bra to match. She lifted it out. It seemed very small, the material very thin. She pulled it round her and found it was too small. She could not quite get the clasp to catch. She took it off and examined it to see if she could let it out more. Then as she slipped the thin insubstantial straps over her shoulders she felt the loose latex cups brush and tickle her nipples. Once again she tried to draw the strap around behind her. The thin material pulled tight across the mounds of her breasts was stretched and seemed too feeble to take the strain. The dark blackness dissolving with the stretch of the material, the tension it was placed under fitting round her breasts pulled it tight and thin. She could see her breasts and her nipples clearly in an inky black tone, the roundness of her breasts accentuated by the tightness of the material. She almost had the clasp done as she felt the cool material into which her nipples were pulled, excite them and extend them. She felt them harden as the clasp caught and locked into place. She felt the tightness around her chest as she stood before the mirror. Her breasts seemed so much bigger encased in the material that strained so hard to encompass them. The latex now so thin she could see every detail of her breasts, and her nipples that pressed into the latex making dark points surmounted upon well-rounded creamy black domes.

Quickly now she got ready to hide these pleasures under her work clothes and rush off to work. Yet so excited was she that she couldn’t resist picking up some more revealing items from her wardrobe than she would normally wear to work. The neckline a little lower, the skirt just above the knee, flaring slightly. She put her makeup on and once again made herself slightly more provocative than usual: the eyeliner a little darker, her lashes a trifle longer, her lips a more pomegranate shade of red and her foundation a paler tan. Her hair was loose as she pulled it out and let it fall. She would normally tie it back, but she liked the feel of the feminine flow of the strands brushing against her cheeks. As she stared back at herself in the mirror she saw an altogether more feminine woman looking back at her, she had an insecure allure and a hint of her secret peeking through her expression. She presented an image of a more docile person, her mind elsewhere more aware of her shapeliness and how others perceived her.

At that moment Tom came into the room and wrapped his arms around her. Somehow he needed the feel of reassurance, to feel her solid form, that she was not some ethereal mirage.

“You look gorgeous. Anything special happening today?”

She caressed his hands and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Her head bent under his chin as she said: “Just hoped you’d like it.” She turned her head and kissed him. Tom smiled back and they broke their embrace and continued with their separate days.

By the time Sara was walking across the car park to her office she was annoyed with herself. Back in the reassuring surroundings of her work she felt she had been acting stupidly to allow such fantastical notions to pervade her. She would go straight up to the bathroom and clean herself off and remove that stupid underwear. She had felt the restriction around her chest and although it did not actually inhibit her breathing, she still found herself breathing more deeply, her chest heaving in sighs and with long indrawn breaths. Her breasts each time rose up and pushed themselves forward, her mounds pressed still tighter against the fabric of the bra. She felt her flesh stick and fuse into the material. The sensations brought her mind constantly back to her erect nipples, the soft roundness of her flesh, the forward display of her bosom and how much more conscious she was of men looking at it.

As she sat in the toilet she had pulled her skirt up slightly and saw the sleek black material poke out from underneath of the cotton fabric. She saw the long stretch between her thighs and the glint of reflected light from the sweeping curve of the material hugging her so closely. She stared at it for a moment and felt the rise of excitement burn her neck. That stupid gel had already got to work and she was feeling the now familiar itch in her groin as blood engorged her clitoris. She should pull them off and wipe herself clean, she should stop this behaviour; she had to get a grip on her life. How could she have let herself drift into these abusive situations? Yet as she looked down at her latex encased crotch she felt a thrill, something quite extraordinary outside of everyday experience. Life suddenly seemed so dull, just plodding along, getting by. If she took them off then today would become just another ordinary day and in years would be lost in the babble of background noise that was her life. Yet if she kept them on, if she experienced that unrelenting need, that overpowering desire, that inability to draw her mind away from her sex and Ricky, then today would indeed stand out and its memory remain with her forever. She would always remember the coiled tautness that pulled imaginary strings in her body making her tense, making her more alive and her body more sensitive. She thought about Ricky and felt a surge of dampness as she pictured him stealing into their apartment. The risk he had taken—of being seen, being found by Tom or Marie, or by the neighbour; and how would he have explained the inexplicable? He could not. He had taken risks for her in order to share with her these feelings of excitement. She imagined him sitting at his desk all day today thinking of her, wondering how incapable she too would be to drag her thoughts away from him, to lay herself open before him. He had shown her that he wanted her and the desire she instilled in him was driving him to crazy acts that surely no sane person would contemplate. She thought of him looking through catalogues or wandering around stores trying to decide what underwear to buy her. She pictured him surrounded by lingerie weighing up in his mind, which would suit her frame, which would arouse him more once he saw her dressed in it. She smiled at the thought of his taking so much trouble over her. Surely she should wear them for him. That was not too much to ask after all that trouble, was it? She was gripped by the thoughts of complicity.

All this while her hand roamed across her mound, stroking it, inflaming it further. She remembered Ricky’s firm grip between her legs, pressing into her, as Tom had prepared dinner. He had pushed the gel deeper into her skin, coating her more and more liberally. She found her hand reciprocating, spreading the inflaming juices around to ensure no part of her could escape the pleasure that was now rippling up her spine and embracing her.

NO, she must stop this. She had to grasp her own identity and take hold of her destiny once more. She had to pull them off and clean herself up before it was too late. She must take these panties off; she would wander around without panties today… NO, she couldn’t go about without panties! What was she thinking of? Yet the thought of her nakedness so close to her colleagues, barely hidden under the thin slip of her skirt, so available as she talked with her innocent male colleagues captivated her. She was lost once more absorbed into the images that conjured up as some magic trick in her mind. Her hand slipped under her blouse and caressed her latex coated breast. The smooth material and the heat flowing through it, the small nubbin for her nipple which she rolled between her fingers, so prominent. No she would ride out this storm today and succumb to her fate realising that she doomed herself at the end of the day to quivering disloyal pleasure. She flushed the toilet and left for her office, her over-excited clitoris pressed firmly against the tight fabric that brushed back and forth against it as she strode down the corridor.

All through the day she had tried in a vain desperate attempt to focus upon her work. Every time she talked with her colleagues she wondered what they would think of her if only they knew. Her excitement had risen throughout the day and by the afternoon she could not draw her eyes away from the crotches of her male co-workers. Her mind dallying on their cocks wrapped neatly up, tucked away but ready to spring forth, to grow and expand like some giant reaching out toward her. She imagined herself impaled upon their cocks, riding them thinking dimly that this was wrong, but being so overwhelmed by satisfying her need, her body could not respond. She had to shake her head to dispel these images and once or twice caught a quizzical look on their faces. Had they noticed her eyes being drawn to their crotches? Her face went red at the thought and her cunt clenched in response to the humiliation of the thought. Other times she would look at their hands. Look at their fingers – some long and thin, others quite dumpy. She imagined them running along the length of the slit and imagining how it might feel. So used was she to Tom’s fingers that she started to feel curious about the different sensations. She wondered whether she would be able to tell if she was blindfolded and all she could feel was the touch of a man playing with her. Could she know whether it was Tom, could she guess who among these men she fantasized over was pleasuring her? But she would never dare to let them know what thoughts were running through her mind. She had kept herself in check, but she had found her hands drawn more frequently under her skirt and rubbing themselves, pressing hard against her clitoris, making herself moan with pleasure that radiated from her hot crotch. She felt it was not enough, she needed to feel something bury itself inside her, but she kept herself going through the day with the thought of saving herself for Ricky.

By the time she had got home she was exhausted but in great need. She was home early, anticipating that Ricky would come over before Tom got back. She planned what they would do, where they would fuck and there would be no chat, no pleasantries. They would be together for too short a time, they needed to spend all of it in desperate passion. She would keep her clothing on, for certainly Ricky would want to see her wearing it, but had taken off her clothes and wrapped herself in her dressing gown. It would provide quick and easy access to her.

Sara heard the key turn in the lock. She rushed out into the hall.

“Hi honey. How was the day?”

She stopped in her tracks as she saw that it was Tom. She felt her heart lurch. This was not what she had expected and a sudden coldness swept over her as reality finally penetrated her thoughts. Of course it wasn’t Ricky, this was the time Tom usually got back from work. Why had she been surprised? As she kissed him on the cheek she felt her disappointment and a black depression suddenly swamped her. Tom was smiling at her but she pulled away.

“I’ve had a lousy day. Not too good at all. In fact I think I’ll take an early night.”

Tom looked concerned for his wife. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Sara just shook her head as she turned away. What could she say to him? How could she explain to her husband that she felt bitter disappointment that it was him and not another man who had come in through the door? She knew that it was not his fault. She knew that actually she should be much more compassionate with him, but she just could not manage that on top of the feelings that had so dominated her during the day and the build up of expectation that had accompanied it.

“No I’ll just have a lie down. I have such an aching head.” Sara went and collapsed on the bed. She felt like crying, she was so frustrated. She could not bring herself to talk or read or think of anything else. How could Ricky have just left her like this? Surely he had wanted to come and fuck her? She felt betrayed as she sank into sleep – at least she could escape her feelings for the night.

Into her dreams she felt the warm breath against her cheek, the closeness of a masculine body, one that she could not make out but whose presence dominated her. She felt her head move towards his hidden face and her lips parted as he kissed her. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth and she became instantly more passionate. Suddenly she felt the touch of real flesh against her lips and the contradiction startled her awake. She found the room dark, but leaning over her was the frame of a man’s head. She was about to shriek when his hand slipped over her mouth and she felt rather than heard his whisper:

“It’s me, Ricky.”

Her eyes strained to focus, and dimly she could make out that it was indeed Ricky. She turned to her side and found Tom fast asleep next to her. The room was dark. He must have had his dinner and crept into bed without disturbing her. She wondered what time it was, but then she felt her heart start to quicken as her fogged mind started to appreciate that Ricky had crept into her bedroom as she slept next to her husband. What danger he was in should Tom hear anything and rouse. Her eyes acknowledged Ricky and he withdrew his hand. She slipped out of bed still wearing her dressing gown and padded silently out of the room behind him.

Downstairs she stood before him as he pulled open her gown. He had lit the fire and he surveyed her in her underwear in the flickering light of the flames. They were silent as they watched each other. Her eyes followed his, nervous and attentive, seeking some acknowledgement that he was satisfied with how she looked. She knew he must be comparing the sight of her with an image that must have played across his mind all day. She too realised that he must have felt equally frustrated at not being able to get access to her until now in the dead of night, and that this shared frustration bonded them still more together. He was smiling and Sara felt relief relax her tense muscles. He slipped his hand around her waist and stared down at her tits. She felt the warmth of the fire caress them through the thin fabric and Ricky bent down and took one of her nipples between his teeth, through the material. He bit slightly and she felt the pain, then as his head moved away she looked down and saw the material torn around her nipple that stood bright red in the glow of the fire.

Ricky pulled her towards him and kissed her violently, she lay in his grasp as a rag doll and received him. She felt tender all over her body and every sinew seemed alive. She took his hand and placed it on her latex crotch. He rubbed her with the heal of his palm and she arched her back revealing her long neck, her eyes closed, her hair draped down her back. It felt so much more complete when it was Ricky’s hand she felt through the sodden material than her own feeble attempt. Her hands hung limply by her side as his fingers pushed at the material and tried to force their way inside her. But the material would not give and he pulled the panties down her leg. She was hot, she was wet, she was ready for him and Ricky took her. No foreplay, no words, just brute lust as he drove himself into her lying there on the floor in front of the fire. The orange glow and half hidden forms just added to the supernatural nature of the experience. Sara’s heart pounded in her head as she was buffeted by orgasms pent up throughout the day. At last she felt whole, she felt stretched, she felt his hot desire radiating its passion inside of her.

On and on they fucked with an energy that could not be abated. He took her in so many ways and she encouraged him, held him, pulled his cock deep into her cunt. She was more than an acquiescent partner, she wanted him to fill her, to feel his seed slide down her leg, seep out of her cunt. She wanted it to last, not a wild snatched moment in a cupboard. She lay on the floor holding Ricky’s head as he slept. She thought of these two men in her life, both sleeping one in the room above the other, and her need for both of them, their intertwined and yet clandestine relationships.

Silently she slipped under the covers of the bed as Tom twisted around in a stupor. “You feeling OK?” he mumbled. She felt his concern, even though he was far too sleepy to express it properly.

“Yes, go to sleep.” She kissed him gently and affectionately.

As they got ready the next morning Tom was looking at Sara. He had an expression of concern on his face. Sara pretended not to notice in order not to encourage any questions.

“Is everything OK?” he eventually asked.

“Yes sure. Must get ready as Marie is coming in today and I need to think about what needs doing.”

That seemed to keep him quiet for a moment or two before he spoke again.

“It’s just that you don’t seem to be yourself these days. I was just wondering whether there was something on your mind.”

She turned and smiled at him. She had to find some way to deflect him.

“No everything is fine, darling.”

Tom contemplated her before adding, “You are doing a lot more around the house these days too. Its great to see you take such pride in the place, but don’t you think Marie should do that? After all that’s what we pay her for.”

Sara turned towards her husband. She felt this conversation was leading into dangerous waters.

“I just like doing some of the things around the house. Don’t worry, I just couldn’t possibly manage without Marie. There is plenty for her to do as well. Besides she is such a good friend of mine, we get along so well.”

“Well if you’re sure. But you never used to take such an interest in the house. You were always focused on the office.”

“Its just that there is a lot of pressure at work at the moment, and I just feel the need to get away and do some mindless work to get it out of my system. You shouldn’t read so much into things.” She admonished before adding, “How are things going at work with the changes Ricky wants to bring in?”

This started Tom talking animatedly about his work and Sara felt relief. Tom was very much wrapped up in his work and getting on. She loved him very much and she knew that whatever else all this meant, she didn’t feel any less for Tom. Somehow she just needed that feeling of being wanted. She thought back to last night and making love in front of the fire. It had been so wonderfully erotic and unlike the other times Ricky wasn’t just grabbing for himself, but was taking trouble over her. She knew that this would help Tom and while she felt uneasy about what she was doing, she felt that this was at least some compensation for him. After all, as Carol had said, if he didn’t know anything then he wouldn’t get hurt. She would end it with Ricky when she felt ready, but not right now. Somehow she needed him.

As Tom was on his way out the door Marie turned up.

“Good morning, sir.” He smiled and greeted Marie. As he walked out she turned and watched him leave before turning to Sara. “Can you get back early today? I need to go into town.” She smiled at Sara and waited her response. When Sara hesitated wondering how she could possibly get back early that day, she added,

“You know my brother Juan was asking after you. He wants to come round and see you. I told him that we were just fine and that he should stay away. Us girls can manage, can’t we?” she was still smiling as if the hidden threat in her words had passed over her head unnoticed. They were not unnoticed by Sara however. She felt her throat dry as she nodded and said,

“I’ll be back about an hour earlier today, OK?”

Marie smiled and gave her a hug.

“I knew we could manage things between us.” She gave Sara a kiss on the cheek and hugged her. “We are so lucky to have each other, eh?”

Sara looked at the clock. She knew she had to get back home. She had got through her work in double quick time today. It may not have been up to her usual standard, but it would do. She had to get back home and not disappoint Marie. She thought about Juan and his threat to punish her. She remembered him calling her a whore, and the word rang in her head. She had often reflected upon that incident when she went out onto the streets. She had hated the thought and recoiled from the memory, but at the same time she knew that however much she wished not to admit it, she had been excited by the adventure. There was something utterly degrading about what she had done, somehow it was somebody else and not her, it could not be the same person. She imagined her colleagues coming in and out of the office during the day, wondering how each would react if they knew her secret. She had to make sure that Marie would keep her secret, she could not imagine how she could cope if they found out. Yet there was something strangely compulsive and disturbing about the implications of acting the whore.

Sara had to get going. She started to pack up. Always there was some last thing she needed to do; one last file to be put away, one last little reminder to jot down for the morning. She started to leave but came running back. She remembered a quick letter she needed to put together, she had promised her boss. She felt the anxiety of the conflicting demands upon her. She must get going yet she had promised to do this letter today. She felt the anxiety settle in her groin and she could not sit still. She must go, she must stay and finish this. It would only take a moment. Yet she had to run to the bathroom before she could do either. She sat in the cubicle and felt the heat rise from her pussy, all the time feeling the agony of the passing of the minutes. Somehow she felt herself trapped there, the inevitable tardiness feeding the impatience of Marie, driving her inexorably to the conclusion that she would call Juan to come and discipline her. The thought reverberated through dark corridors in her mind as her fingers strayed over her clitoris and opening her pussy lips wide to some unseen eyes of a voyeur she now imagined was standing at the open door to her cubicle. Suddenly she shuddered through an orgasm, her pussy becoming damp and her legs twitching wanting to run, wanting to hide, wanting the inevitable.

As she drove back to the house she felt afraid. She was shaking, she knew she was late and could feel Marie’s anger at her even from a few blocks away. Yet there was something inexorable about the wilful way she had delayed herself. One part of her had been telling her to get on with that letter earlier. Yet another part had deliberately put it to one side to do later. This simple act of negligence was the doom that wrested control of the situation from her. She did not have to actively participate in her destruction; she could just allow it to happen by passively standing by.

Marie was indeed furious at her when she got home. She threw the uniform at her and told her to get on with the work. She flounced out of the house saying Sara would regret disappointing her after all she had done to help her. This was no way to treat their friendship.

It only took a few days. Sara was sitting quietly reading her book when Marie and her friends burst into the room. The quiet of the afternoon evaporated under the exuberance of these guests that seemed to fill the room with their presence. Tom entered the room behind them as Marie was announcing:

“It is my birthday today and we came to celebrate with you.”

Sara looked from Marie to her brother Juan and the other men who stood in their sitting room. They all seemed to pay special attention to her, looking down at where she was curled up on the sofa. She felt a shiver run down her back and averted her eyes turning to look at Tom. There were six men there with Juan and Marie, all smiling and laughing together and talking in Spanish. She turned back to Marie.

“Hey I didn’t know.” She got up and went over and hugged Marie. Marie held her tight and pulled her in towards her. She felt Marie’s breasts dig into hers and the tight grip of her fingers as she held her waist tight. Sara’s nostrils filled with the scent Marie was wearing and it strangely excited her, or was it the strength with which she was being held? Marie pulled back and was babbling she was so excited. She held on to Sara’s hand as she was explaining to everyone about how they had been celebrating. She wanted Sara to come with her shopping to buy some party clothes. They would go out tonight and have fun. Tom came over and kissed Marie.

“That is a truly wonderful idea. We would love to come and I know how you and Sara get on so well together. How kind of you to think of us on your birthday.”

Juan put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“You have been very good to my sister and we think of both of you as part of our family. Let the girls go and shop and we can stay and have some beers, watch the game. We brought some beer along with us, what you say Tom?” Juan stood next to Tom, a hand on his shoulder, looking like his younger brother. All the men started to talk about the match and Tom was soon engrossed. Marie slipped her arm through Sara’s. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Tom waved to Sara as she was being ushered out of the door. “Have a good time.” He shouted before being drawn back into conversation. The sound of the beers being popped echoed into the hall behind Sara.

Once they were out of the room Marie pushed Sara suddenly against the wall. Sara was winded, looking up with surprise and fear at Marie leaning into her.

“I told you not to be late. Now you must learn a lesson.” She stuffed a cloth into Sara’s mouth before she could react. As her hands flew up to her face to pull the material out Marie gripped both her wrists. Her fingers bit into them and with surprising strength she pulled Sara’s hands down and together. Sara was staring into Marie’s face, panting out her sudden fear at the change in her attitude. Yet the sounds she produced were muffled by the material locked between her jaws. She felt the cold touch of steel at her wrists, as it gripped and pressed into her skin, locking tightly around her. She heard the clink of steel sliding over bearings. Each minute click adding further to the pressure she felt at her wrists, sealing her, locking her in, immobilising her ability to resist. Marie took out a length of rope and tied it round Sara’s face over the cloth gagging her mouth. As Marie pulled on the rope at the back of Sara’s head she felt the cloth being pressed more firmly into her mouth, her tongue forced down, her jaws pushed wider. Sara’s eyes were filling with tears as she stared into Marie’s neck, the cloying sweetness of her scent still arousing the girl as she stood motionless, unable to flee or fight, her hands locked tight together in front of her. In her mind the thought of struggle, of fighting back, was grappling to get her attention as her senses were being overwhelmed by the disbelief she experienced at what Marie was doing. Yet somehow before even trying to struggle she had already defeated herself. As her acceptance of her impending punishment sank in to her consciousness she felt a reassuring warmth spread from her groin. She feared what was about to happen; yet somehow she had wanted to be forced to accept it. She recoiled from these thoughts and the thrill she felt at not knowing how she would be punished, being at the mercy of these people who would humiliate her and pleasure her; fearing more that Tom would emerge from the sitting room rather than Juan or the other men.

The door to the sitting room indeed started to open and Sara’s eyes opened wide in their fear. She started to become animated as she heard the door quietly close upon the noise of conversation bursting from the sitting room. She had heard Tom’s voice talking excitedly with the other men as Juan wandered down the hall towards them. Sara was shivering in front of his gaze. She felt naked and vulnerable as she stood with her hands so visibly held tight together by the handcuffs and her mouth completely gagged unable to call out for help. She just stared at him, shaking and crying as he approached. He held his sister’s arm and kissed her on the cheek.

“You’d better get going, leave her with me.”

Marie laughed and slipped her finger around Sara’s gag as she said, “Enjoy yourself!” Marie made sure to close the front door loudly calling out as she went, “I want to show you this new shop in the mall. I know you’ll find something to wear there. Bye all!”

As the door slammed shut, Sara felt a wave of despair sweep across her, as if a prison door had closed heavily against her. She was now left in the charge of Juan and although Tom was so close by, he had just called out to her to enjoy herself and not hurry back. Juan stared at his victim.

“Your husband is in the other room, but he believes you have gone out and won’t be back until Marie returns. That may be some time. Poor Tom, so much that he doesn’t know about his pretty wife, no? Should we tell him, should we take from him the bandages you have wrapped over his eyes? Why should you treat him like this? And when my sister agrees to help you, because she likes you, because you were good to her, how do you repay her? All you had to do was get back home and help her when she asked. Yet even that was too much for you. Now you must learn why you must be more help to my sister and listen to what she says.”

With that he grabbed her arms. Sara tried to scream but the gag drowned it out. Juan pushed her along the hall, opened a cupboard door and pushed her inside. She fell heavily to the floor as Juan leant in over her. He grabbed her locked wrists and pulled them above her head. Sara was in a daze and whimpering in her gag as she felt a chain dangle over her imprisoned arms. She heard the click of a padlock sealing her wrists high above her head. She could not come to terms with how easily he Juan had walked into her house and lured her into his mercy. She had been snatched right from under her husband’s nose. She was shocked how easy and quick it had all been. She sat on the floor in the gloom, the shadow of Juan towering over her. He reached out and she first felt the pull then heard the tear of material as he pulled at her blouse. Her breasts sprang free and immediately she felt the chill of the cold air inside the dark cupboard. “Now bitch, I will leave you here for a while and go and talk with your husband. You can contemplate your position – a nothing locked away in a cupboard until we decide you can come out. You can think about why you are here and how much you owe to my sister. Just to help you understand your position, let me leave you with something else to think about.”

With that Sara heard a swish through the air cutting it like a knife. She felt pain rip through her exposed breasts and she squealed into the cloth. She heard the swish again and before she could steal herself the pain wracked her once again. He repeated a few more blows and then dropped a riding crop on the floor in front of her. Sara looked at it with fear, and then looked at her thighs that had not escaped his onslaught. She saw thin red lines swell across them. Juan knelt down next to her. He brushed her hair back from her cheek.

“Pain, is wonderful for concentrating the mind of a whore I always find. Just think about what you have received and when I return you will tell me that you will not disobey my sister again.”

Sara was shaking, her head turned away from her tormentor, her mind still reeling from her attempt to come to terms with the pain and humiliation she felt. The door closed and she was drowned by the darkness. She heard his footsteps heading back into the sitting room. She imagined herself standing in the hall looking down at herself bound and beaten in the closet. She thought about her husband talking and drinking with her tormentors just yards away. How could he let them do this to her? Why couldn’t he have taken more care of her! She sobbed into her gag and as the acuteness of the pain from her welts receded into a dull throb, she started to feel the ache in her arms suspended above her. She had to make some noise, she had to alert Tom so that he could rescue her. Yet she was afraid of Juan hearing the noise and instead of rescue he would come and beat her some more. She shivered at this thought. She felt useless, degraded and debased. Not human any more, just some object to be stored away in a cupboard until useful.

Time seemed to drag and Sara sat in the dark shivering and as her eyes became accustomed to the light she found herself staring at the riding crop. She contemplated how it was used to train animals. Was she some kind of animal that needed to be trained? Was she responding to its urgent demand? Is that why she would cede to Juan’s demands when he returned? For she knew as soon as he gave her the chance she would apologise and ingratiate herself to him. She also knew she would look forward to it, that somehow it would excite her and inflame her passion which she had felt mounting within her. The loss of control, being locked away in her own cupboard, not knowing when she would be let out, what she would have to agree to in order to regain her temporary freedom all aggravated an itch she felt in her groin. It was the growing urgency of this itch that eventually drowned out the dull pain, and the feeling of her pain dissolving into need made her wish her hands were free to bury themselves between her legs. Yet the feeling of inaccessibility to her own slit made her feel still more open and vulnerable. She had been denied access to her most intimate parts. She thought of her legs parted on the floor and started to imagine a spider crawling out of a dark hole and wandering across the floor towards her. She pictured its long legs feeling their way in the darkness, her slit pressed up against the floor in front of it, with its musky smell drawing the spider towards her, attracted by the honey sweet smell of the juices that she felt collecting about her opening. She tried to draw her legs up, to lift herself off the floor, away from danger, but there was not enough space. She could not stand or even raise herself a little. She would be completely at its mercy, unable to defend herself. She pictured it drawing closer, its front legs feeling around ahead of its body, and as it closed in its sense of direction improved by the cloying scent. She felt the lips of her pussy contract and try to squeeze shut, yet she imagined the soft damp fabric of her panties spread wide before the creature. In her mind it approached closer and started to disappear under her skirt. She started to wriggle, to try to discourage it by threatening it with the movement of her large body, yet instead of running away it ran towards her opening, as if rushing to enter her before being squashed in the earthquake it must have felt erupting around it. Sara felt her heart lurch at the prospect; she felt the cold sweat of fear. She imagined it climbing over her crotch, the gentle tap of its legs pressing at her opening, finding the way in.

Suddenly the door opened and light washed away Sara’s nightmare vision. Her eyes looked up instinctively but screwed themselves almost tight shut to protect her from the invading energy. She could just make out the looming form of a man when she heard Juan say,

“Your husband is enjoying himself in the other room. He drinks plenty of beer but he does not worry about his little wife. He thinks she is very faithful to him. He trusts her. But we know, don’t we, how little trust he should place in her. What have you been thinking all this time in the dark? Are you ready to accept your place now?”

Sara started to focus, but still had difficulty seeing his form clearly through her tear stained eyes. She just nodded mutely at him, feeling all resistance totally quashed. He leaned forward.

“That’s a good girl. He kissed her face and stroked her with some kindness. Now I will take you out and we can go upstairs.” He reached above her head and she felt the chain slacken and her hands dropped into her lap. They were still bound together by the handcuffs that even in the poor light stealing in over Juan’s shoulder, glinted menacingly at her. Juan helped her up and out of the cupboard. He collected the crop and then they walked slowly, Sara stumbling with the cramp she felt in her legs. They made their way along the hall and up the stairs. Juan got her to the bedroom and made her sit down. He massaged her arms and legs to improve her circulation while he talked to her. She did not need to respond, she just needed to listen to his instruction. She felt the blood flow once again through her limbs as he lay her gently on the bed. He had not removed her gag but wrapped a rope over the handcuffs and pulled them above her head to fasten them to the bed. He had said this would not be painful as the bed would support the weight of her arms. But she could not reappear downstairs until Marie got back. He then removed her skirt and panties and smiled at her as he bent low studying the dampness seeping out of her and the aroma of her arousal.

“You are such a little slut, Sara. You like this treatment don’t you? I know, I understand. You hate it, and you hate yourself for liking it, but your body reacts to what goes on in your mind. This is a part of you Sara. You may wish you were a simple middle class career woman, but somewhere deep inside you there lies a slut longing to be forced out into the open. Being locked up, being beaten, turns you on. Don’t worry about this. You will come to accept it, because you are just accepting a part of yourself that you have been denying for too long.”

As he spoke he started to remove his jeans. He knelt between her naked legs, leaning forward he started to kiss her. Sara struggled and moaned again. She didn’t want this, yet part of her wished he would be less gentle and just drive himself into her. She imagined that spider again, softly inflaming her whilst leaving her unfulfilled. She needed him to force his entry deep inside her. She needed raw sex right now, to shut out the space to think, but Juan knew what he was about.

Juan raised himself and placed his penis at her entrance. He enticed her with its velvet touch, encouraging her to beg him to enter her. She didn’t want to comply, she wanted to be taken, but he insisted and her need drove her to raise her hips to offer him swift entrance; she had complied, she had participated. This was not rape, and she was ashamed that she had invited him to drive himself down and into her. His shaft slid in and out of her, pushing her body up against the headboard and back down along the bed once again. She was squeezing him in rhythm as he pumped into her, trying to pull his seed out of his balls and up into her cunt. Her groans fell into the same rhythm as his as she was panting into her gag. His hands landed upon her breasts as he towered over her. She stared up at him with a look of lust, her body responding to him as he played it. She felt his tension build and felt Juan’s load shoot into her deep recesses. He thrust violently with each spasm erupting into her warm soft womb, and her eyes watered as his cock tried to drive its way still deeper into her belly. Then he fell on top of her and she felt the tension snap inside her and she started to climb down from her own orgasm. She thought briefly and distractedly of the spider again and this time it had a huge phallus which had just raped her. She felt satisfied.

Juan raised himself slowly. He seemed drained of energy and fought to get himself dressed fighting his tiredness. He smiled down at Sara still tied to the bed.

“You are fucking good. You even get off fucking some stranger on your own marriage bed. Wait till I tell the others. Your husband will be too drunk to notice them slipping one by one out the room, acquainting themselves with his wife in his own bed.”

Sara lay defeated staring up at Juan the now familiar mix of excitement and humiliation sweeping through her. She felt too tired to even try and resist. He continued to smile at her, leaned over and kissed her forehead and then left. Sara lay there on the bed, she felt Juan’s seed ooze out of her, but was unable to do anything to stop its sticky progress across the bedcovers. As she lay there she found herself lost once again in an ocean of time to think, and she felt unnerved by this space. Waiting, just waiting, sooner or later the others would be upstairs following the smell of honey that she could do nothing to stop.

She did not know what would happen next. As she lay on the bed she wondered where these cravings of humiliation came from. She realised that she needed to feel she had responded to the men who abused her. She needed to be a good lay, yet she did not understand why she felt this way. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls landing heavily on the stairs. Someone was coming up to see her. As the sound of the footsteps approached she felt a sudden fear that it would be Tom. That he would see her tied to the bed, firmly gagged, Juan’s cream filling her slit and waiting for anyone to enter. She was sweating from the exertions of fucking Juan, but she now felt the cold chill of exposure run through her. She turned her head towards the door in fear. She struggled against her bonds in a vain attempt to escape, her heart pounded and she felt the blood beat through her ears. She was unable to move, unable to stop what was about to happen. She just lay there available. She could not put out a hand even to pretend some modesty before Tom as she lay falling out of her torn blouse, her skirt and panties somewhere abandoned on the floor. She could not even use her mouth to try and explain, to say something that would make her seem less willing. She was a slower that just waited for a bee to come and bury itself deep within her, unable to move yet drawing the bee towards her.

As the door opened, one of Juan’s friends entered. His eyes opened wide at the sight of her and he walked slowly around her. Her eyes followed him, patiently waiting, knowing there was nothing to say, nothing for her to do. She was just his fuck toy. He studied the damp patch that had grown between her open legs and dipping his fingers into it, he brought them up to her face. He held his fingers for her to smell her own arousal and said something to her in Spanish. She did not know what it meant, and she found herself incongruously trying to remember the Spanish word for whore. She wanted to be able to tell if that was what she was being called. He smeared the juices over her breasts and kneaded them, then licked his tongue over her face. She pulled her head back as far as she could, but was unable to escape him. He knelt across her chest and unzipped his pants. His thick cock leaped out already erect and looking huge before her eyes. He started to jack off in front of her, pointing his cock at her face. She could not look away, mesmerised by his thick cock. She felt sick at the thought he was about to shoot his load over her face and she was unable to move away. She felt her throat constrict and a feeling of sick revulsion, but he was working his cock faster and faster by now. He rocked his hips back and forward as if he were thrusting into her face. She saw the little slit of its opening draw closer to her eyes and then withdraw. She was powerless, only able to wait for what was to come, and after what seemed like an age he finally spurt a long silky spurt of creamy fluid that hit her cheek just above her lip. She felt the strand dangle down and come to rest on her chin as wave upon wave of spurts landed over her face. She could taste the saltiness of it as it oozed down behind her gag and into her mouth. She could not close her mouth, she could not protect herself in any way, she was just a receptacle for these men. She felt a strange calm wash over her with this thought, as if it was alright because she could do nothing. She was not responsible.

One by one she heard the men approach up the stairs. Each time it seemed a long and interminable wait, the sounds of their approach getting slowly louder, making her agonise over the anticipation. She was fucked over and again, abused in a language she could not understand, her body inspected, so thoroughly fingered, so completely inflamed. She felt hot from all her exertions. One of the men had turned her round and sank into her from behind. Sara had become more involved as time went on. No longer the innocent victim, but the enticing whore. She had responded as best she could, pushed back at them as they thrust into her, screamed into her gag with each mounting orgasm. When one of the men forced himself into her anus, the pain and humiliation were mingled with her most exquisite orgasm. She was out of control. She longed to have her hands back, to stroke those cocks, to pull them into her, to jerk them off and run her fingers smearing their cum over her body. Her mind was given over to sex and craving. She had forgotten her husband Tom downstairs, or where she was. She was being played by these men like some musical instrument, and the reward took her breath away.