Naked Lies (7 page)

Making coffee,
I pondered on the recent events. It had been like a game to me,
teasing Den, giving him the come-on and then hiding in the house.
Masturbating as I'd pictured him watching me had been exciting,
enhancing the heavenly sensations. But now the game had turned
sinister.

I still had a
chance to turn the clock back though, I decided. No matter what I'd
done, there was no proof... No proof? Den's bloody tape recording
was all the proof he needed! Once Mat heard my so-called
confession, all hell would be let loose!

Sitting at the
kitchen table sipping my coffee and munching toast, I became aware
of my clitoris calling for attention - swelling and throbbing
within my sex valley. My vaginal juices wetting my panties,
something within me had definitely been roused. But what? Was I a
latent nymphomaniac? Masturbating with the banana and then
savouring the hot fruit had stimulated me no end. But was I really
a nymphomaniac?

As the front
doorbell rang, I froze. It could have been the postman or the
milkman, but I knew instinctively that it was Den. "Jane!" he
called through the letterbox. "Jane, I know you're in there!" My
hands trembling, spilling coffee as I deposited my cup on the
table, I didn't know what to do. "Jane!" he persisted, his deep
voice menacing. "I've put something through the letterbox. Take a
look at it!"

Tentatively
walking through the hall, I picked up a photograph from the
doormat. Stretched out on the grass with my skirt up over my
stomach, my open pussy blatantly displayed, the picture was clear
evidence of my obscene exhibitionism. I felt sick as Den coolly
informed me that there were several copies. My heart thumping
against my chest, I didn't know what to say as he insisted that I
let him in.

"Come on,
Jane!" he wheedled as I gazed glassy eyed at the photograph.
"Either you let me in, or Mat gets a copy of the picture!"

"All right,
all right!" I finally conceded, reluctantly opening the door.

"That's more
like it," he grinned, stepping into the hall, his dark eyes locked
to mine. "So, what do you think of the picture?"

"I think it's
me relaxing quite innocently in the garden."

"What, with
your cunt deliberately on show?"

"I forgot to
put my panties on. All this proves is that you're a pervert."

"It proves
that you were showing me your cunt, Jane. When Mat sees..."

"When Mat sees
it, he'll probably punch you in the face."

"I think not,"
he smirked, sauntering through the hall to the lounge. Meekly
following him, I wondered at his next move. "How many women
sunbathe like that?"

"Me, for
starters."

"How many
women have posed for men's mags, left their panties, their
suspender belts and dressing gown in their neighbours' houses?"

"I..."

"There's one
other thing, Jane." He chuckled evilly as he stared at me. "I have
the most wonderful photograph of you standing naked in my lounge
with my fingers up your tight cunt."

"You can't
have!" I returned.

"Can't I?"

"There was no
camera!"

"Oh, yes there
was. A hidden camera, operated by..."

"I don't
believe you."

"I don't care
whether you believe me or not, the fact is that I have several
shots of you with my fingers up your wet cunt."

Shaking
uncontrollably, I leaned on the back of the armchair to steady
myself as I felt my legs crumple. Den was capable of any treachery,
I knew - I had no reason to disbelieve that he'd taken photographs
of me. Nausea embraced me and my head spun as I imagined Mat
discovering my wanton adultery. Mistakes are inevitably followed by
dire consequences, I reflected as Den stood grinning triumphantly
at me. Who was sending me the notes?

"OK, take your
panties off," he instructed me as he removed his leather belt.
Obediently, I slipped my hands up my skirt and pulled my panties
down, trying to conceal the stained crotch as I kicked my shoes
off. "Now lift your skirt right up and bend over the back of the
armchair," he ordered me as I stepped out of my panties.

"Den," I
began, realizing that he was going to do far more than lick and
finger me.

"Do it, Jane!
From now on, I am the master, and you the slave - remember
that!"

The master and
the slave? He was right! I was nothing more than a slave to him, an
object to be used, belittled, humiliated... I gazed in horror at
the leather belt, knowing full well what he intended to do with it.
"Do it, Jane!" he repeated angrily. "I will not tolerate
disobedience!"

Raising my
skirt, I leaned over the back of the armchair, exposing my naked
buttocks, my vaginal lips swelling between my thighs. Moving behind
me, cracking the belt like a whip, he chuckled as I pressed my face
into the cushion and whimpered incoherent words of fear. Stroking
my tensed buttocks, running his fingers up and down my bottom
crease, his chuckle became a wicked laugh.

"Have you ever
been thrashed?" he leered menacingly.

"No, I haven't," I whispered, trembling at the thought. I
didn't have to do this, I didn't have to endure a thrashing,
but...
You might enjoy
it
.

"You have a
nice bum."

"Den... Den,
please..." I stammered.

The leather
belt cracking loudly across my taut buttocks, my rounded melons, my
body jolted violently. As I tried to stand upright, the belt struck
me again, the stinging pain permeating my bottom as I collapsed
over the back of the chair. My mind racked with guilt and
humiliation, I imagined Mat walking into the room, the horror on
his face as he confronted the debased spectacle. How ever had I got
myself into this situation? I wondered dazedly as the belt seared
my bottom again. My buttocks burning as the thrashing continued, I
cried out, begging for mercy. But my pleas were met only with
wicked laughter.

"Please!" I
sobbed, my buttocks on fire as the belt lashed me again and again.
"Den, please!"

"This is what
you get for being naughty!" he cried in his devilry, bringing the
belt down with a deafening crack.

There was no
point in pleading with the monster. All I could do was squeeze my
eyes shut and endure the pain, which became more bearable as the
demented leather numbed my stinging buttocks. I found myself
counting the lashes... thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... On
and on the gruelling thrashing continued until the pain melted into
a deep burning heat.

My vaginal
juice seeping between my swollen sex lips, trickling down my inner
thighs, I imagined the view my abuser had of my most intimate
place. Even Mat had never seen me in such a degrading position. Our
lovemaking had never involved crudity such as this. Would Mat like
to thrash me?

Imagining Mat
alighting on my bottom weals as Den finally halted the thrashing, I
was sure that my marriage was doomed. There'd be no way I could
explain the tape and photographs, let alone the blatant evidence of
a recent buttock thrashing.

"Kneel before
your master, bitch!" Den ordered me cruelly, grabbing my arm and
yanking me up from the chair like a rag doll.

"No, Den!" I
protested, eyeing his solid penis jettisoning from his jeans.

"Worship my
cock, or you'll have another thrashing! Kneel before me, your
master, and kiss my cock!"

"Den..."

"Jane, think
about Mat, what he'd say if... I'm not playing games! Beg to suck
my cock and drink my spunk."

"No!"

"Beg, or I'll
thrash you again."

"Please...
please let me suck your cock and drink your spunk," I recited
demurely.

Kneeling
before him, I gazed at his solid penis through the curtain of
matted blonde hair cascading over my flushed face. I focused on his
purple glans, his sperm slit, as he pulled his foreskin back. Kiss
him? Or endure another thrashing? Whether or not I kissed him, I
guessed I'd be in line for another beating. There again, if I
masturbated him, quenched his thirst for orgasm, he'd probably
leave. I was naive beyond belief!

My lips
pursed, I leaned forward and kissed his silky knob. Gasping, he
pressed his glans to my mouth, obviously craving far more than a
kiss. I pulled back. I couldn't bring myself to take another man
into my mouth, no matter what the consequences! Looking up, my
tearful eyes caught his, glinting dangerously as he raised the belt
above his head. I knew I had no option.

Opening my
mouth, I took his glans inside and sucked. A thousand thoughts
cascaded through my mind. Where was Mat? What was he doing? What on
earth was I doing? First my mouth, and then my... As Den clutched
my head, driving his marauding knob to the back of my throat, his
thick black pubic thatch tickling my face, I knew he was about to
come.

"Christ,
that's good!" he gasped, withdrawing his cock and driving into me
again, using my mouth as he would my vagina, crudely fucking me
there. My buttocks burning, my mind brimming with remorse, I had no
choice other than to allow him to use me to satisfy his base
desires. "Coming!" he finally cried, thrusting his bulbous knob to
my tonsils.

His salty sperm jetting, bathing my tongue, filling my cheeks
as he mouth-fucked me, I swallowed hard. Now I was a fully-fledged
adulteress, a tart, a wanton whore... But I'd had a choice, hadn't
I? I hadn't had to commit the act. The inner whisper consoled
me.
You had no choice
.

As Den's penis
twitched, his treacherous sperm baptizing my throat, I again
thought of Mat. My innocent husband was working hard for our future
while I was on my knees before another man, destroying that work.
My neighbour fucking my mouth, spunking down my throat... There was
no future now.

"God, I needed
that!" Den breathed, slipping his wet penis out of my jismed mouth.
"Lick me clean, whore! Lick the spunk from my cock!" Meekly, I did
as he asked. I'd committed the profane act - there seemed little
point in protesting now.

As I lapped up
the spilled sperm from his veined shaft, from his glistening purple
knob, he let out little gasps of pleasure. I felt his come running
down my chin and recalled sucking Mat to orgasm. I was the best, an
expert, he'd praised me as I'd swallowed his love fruit. I was
good, expertly licking and sucking my husband to ecstasy but now...
Never again could I suck Mat's penis. Never.

But, in my
confusion, I told myself that a penis was a penis. There was no
love, no warmth, only the indifferent coupling - flesh to flesh.
What did it matter whether I'd sucked another man to orgasm or not?
A cock was a cock, after all. It had been only a physical act,
nothing more.

"You're bloody
good," Den grinned as he looked down at me. "You give a good blow
job." The crude term battered my mind, hurting me. As he tugged his
jeans down, I wondered what he'd demand of me next, what crude act
he'd instruct his slave to commit. His heavy balls jiggling into
view, his cock stiffening again, I again tried to convince myself
that this was purely a physical act involving no feeling or
emotion.

"Suck me off
again," he murmured, pulling his foreskin back. I took him into my
mouth, his knob swelling, his shaft becoming solid as I sucked.
Rolling my tongue over his silky glans, my lips stretched tautly
around his broad shaft, I closed my eyes. My cunt would be next, I
knew, as I imagined him driving into me, my body jolting as he
fucked me.

Was being
fucked by another man simply a physical coupling? I tormented
myself. Flesh to flesh - ashes to ashes. How would I feel after I'd
been fucked? How would I feel when Den had gone, knowing that I'd
sucked his knob and swallowed his sperm? How did I feel, being used
for crude sex? At that time I didn't know how I felt. Had I
emotions, they were alien to me.

"Lick my
knob," he breathed, pulling back until my wet lips enveloped his
ballooning glans. "Go on, lick it." The taste of sperm lingering in
my mouth, I snaked my tongue round his purple globe, wondering
whether he'd ever be satisfied. "Play with my balls," he instructed
me. Obediently, I cupped his balls in the palm of my hand, gently
squeezing them as I moved my head back and forth, repeatedly taking
his phallus deep into my mouth.

He took longer
to come this time, giving me longer to think about the lewd act I
was performing. His balls in one hand, his solid shaft in the
other, his swollen knob gliding over my wet tongue, I sensed my
clitoris swell and pulsate. My cunt squeezed, quivered, wetting.
Even though this was only a physical coupling, my arousal
instinctively rose. It wasn't that I was deriving pleasure from
sucking my neighbour's cock, I told myself. Just a natural response
to the crude act.

Did I want to
come? I wondered as the mouth fucking continued. Did I want Den to
lick and finger me to orgasm? My cunt juicing, contracting, my
erect nipples caressing my silk blouse, I became horrifically aware
of my soaring arousal. Was it the latent nymphomaniac in me,
stirring, waking? I didn't know. I'd thought I would have been
numb, an emotional wasteland. But the treacherous union was
stimulating me incredibly.

As Den groaned
in his pleasure, I became acutely aware of a desperate longing for
his sperm. The prohibited act, the danger, the notion of master and
slave, excited me, sent a thrill running through my quivering
pelvis. Again, I imagined his cock driving deep into my hot vagina,
fucking me, spunking inside me - cervix spunking. It didn't seem to
matter what I did now, I couldn't have fallen any further into the
murky pool of wanton adultery. I'd traversed all boundaries,
crossed the divide. I might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a
lamb.

"Coming!" Den
cried for the second time, his sperm jetting from his orgasming
knob, bathing my snaking tongue. I didn't swallow this time. In a
dream-like state, I savoured his salty offering as my mouth filled
and overflowed. On and on his sperm pumped from his throbbing knob,
oozing between my wet lips and his solid shaft to run down my
chin.