Identity

It was just luck that let me find the handbag. You can determine what sort of luck it was. I was rifling through my purse while strolling through the park, hoping to find an extra couple of dollars in there, even though I knew there weren't any. Then a gust of wind blew my last solitary note out of my purse and into the bushes.

I had no choice. It was all I had. I scrambled into the bushes after it, cursing the spiky things as I pushed the branches away. I'd just snagged my errant note when I noticed the handbag. What would you expect me to do? I snagged that as well.

I naturally assumed that it would be empty. A bag like that, thrown into the bushes? Some purse-snatcher getting rid of the evidence was my assumption, but it was a nice bag anyway.

There was a pleasant surprise when I opened the bag. It contained purse, phone and an iPod plus all the standard things in a ladies handbag. And the purse contained nearly five hundred dollars and a couple of credit cards and a driver's license.

I looked at that license and it seemed to me that the picture could easily be a bad shot of me. On the spot I decided that I was Marie Henderson for the immediate future.

I had a ball for the next few days. The credit cards were those new ones that you just wave over the EFTPOS machines and they accept it, as long as you don't go too high. On the second day I had another stroke of luck.

I was snooping through the phone, looking at the various contacts to see if we had any mutual acquaintances and I came across an entry Carol Card and instead of a phone number it had two four digit numbers. The real Marie couldn't be that stupid, I thought, but I tried them out at an ATM and in turned out she could.

Over the next few days I managed to extract a nice little sum, wandering around the town and taking money and goods from here and there. I kept expecting the cards to be cancelled, but it didn't happen.

I didn't want to push my luck so I decided that I'd better dump the cards and things and go back to being me. But. And it was a big but. I saw this dress, and I really wanted it and the cards still seemed to be good, so I went into the shop and bought it in what was going to be my last purchase.

For some reason the stupid salesgirl was taking ages to process things and I was starting to get suspicious and wondering if I should take a hike. Before I could a hand closed over my arm.

"Marie Henderson, I believe?" said this voice.

It was quite a voice, too. If rocks could talk they'd sound like this character, And I don't mean little rocks. I mean great big slabs of granite, which is something else this man resembled. I decided to bluff it out.

"Yes," I said. "Can I help you?"

"Didn't think you'd make it this easy for us to find you," he rumbled. "You'd better come along quietly. A lot easier for everyone."

"I don't know what you mean," I protested. "I don't know who you think I am, but I think you've made a mistake."

The great ape took this photo out of his pocket and looked at it and looked at me.

"Looks like you," he said.

Then the arrogant sod snatched my purse and fished out the driver's license. He looked at the license, compared it to the card, looked at me and smirked.

"Yep!" he snapped. "Marie Henderson in the flesh. And quite lovely flesh it is, too. Come along, now, and quietly."

Next thing I knew I was being hauled out of the shop. I was too worried to protest too much, but I was quite vocal about it all. The man monster just dragged me over to this car and pushed me into the back seat and got in next to me.

"OK. It's her. Let's go," he told the driver and the car took off.

"I assume that I'm under arrest?" I said in a very small voice. As you can imagine I really wasn't very happy. I was about to become even unhappier.

My friendly thug just laughed.

"Don't you wish the cops had found you first," he said. "The boss wants a few words with you."

Boss? What boss?

"Um. I think you might have made a mistake," I told him. "I'm not really Marie. I just found her purse and have been using her stuff. I know I shouldn't have and I will pay it all back. Honest."

More laughter. Even the driver was laughing at that one.

Why is it that when you want a cop there's never one around. The driver was speeding all the way to where we were going and I know he went through a red light. And does he get pulled over? Pardon me while I laugh.

Eventually we finished up at this factory on the outskirts of town and the car pulled into a garage there. Thug One, as distinct from the driver, who I'll call Thug Two, hauled me out of the car and the car took off again.

"He's gone for the boss," Thug One said. "You might as well make yourself comfortable."

He dragged me into the factory and over to a room to one side. (Figuratively, he dragged me, not literally. I actually walked. Reluctantly, but I walked.)

Once in the room he pushed me down onto this couch and produced some handcuffs and fastened me to the couch. Then he turned on the TV and sat back to watch a football game. I asked if we could watch something decent and he pointed out the game was on. What more could I want?

About half an hour later I heard the car arrive and Thug One turned off the TV.

"Company," he said, and went to get them.

He came back with Thug Two and a dapper little man who I assumed was the Boss. He took one look at me and scowled.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I'm not Marie Henderson," I said quickly.

"I can see that," he snarled. "What were you doing with her things?"

I was quite red-faced now, having to own up to my misdeeds.

"I found her bag in the park last week," I said, "with all her stuff in it. She looked a lot like me so I thought I'd pretend for a while. I sort of used her credit cards a little. I kept expecting them to be cancelled, but it didn't seem to happen and I just kept on using them."

There was silence from the men as they all just looked at me.

"I'm frightfully sorry," I said nervously. "I still have most of the money I withdrew, and I will pay for the other stuff I bought."

The Boss looked at Thug One.

"Smart little thing, Marie, and it worked out better than she could have hoped for. She knew we'd trace the cards and so she dumped them. This idiot finding them and using them was sheer gold for her. We've wasted a week here when we should have been looking elsewhere.

Let's go," he added to Thug Two and turned and walked out the door.

"Wait," I called. "What about me?"

"Yes, Boss," rumbled Thug One. "What do I do about her?"

"Oh, fuck her," yelled the Boss. "Slap her on the bottom and send her on her way. She's not going to complain to the cops about us. She'd get done for fraud if she did. And take those damn credit cards off her. I hope Marie chokes when she finds what the idiot had spent."

With that the Boss stormed off with Thug Two close behind and a few moments later I saw them driving away.

Thug One turned to me and he had this big smile on his face. I couldn't see what he was so happy about. I found out soon enough.

"OK, honey," he said, a big cheesy smirk on his face. "You heard the Boss. Which do you want first?"

"What?" I said, having no idea what he was talking about. All the Boss had said was to let me go.

"You heard the Boss," Thug One explained, patiently. "He said, fuck you and slap your bottom and send you on your way. So do you want to start with the fucking or the slapping on your bottom?"

"Are you insane?" I shrieked. "He didn't mean it literally. He was just swearing at me and telling you to throw me out."

"Sorry," rumbled Thug One. "He said it and I always do what he wants. Safer that way. I'll apologise if I'm wrong. I reckon we should start with slapping your bottom. I figure being spanked after being fucked tends to ruin the moment."

With that the big oaf started to get undressed. I mean, he just stood there in front of me and stripped. I know I said he resembled a slab of granite, but that was before I saw him naked. Naked he resembled a furry slab of granite. And it was blatantly obvious that he was taking the Boss's offhand 'fuck her' comment very seriously. He certainly had the equipment with which to do it.

Now that he was naked, Thug One picked up his trousers and fished out the key to the cuffs and let me loose. Then he very kindly gave me a choice.

"Do you want to take off your clothes or would you refer me to strip you?" he asked me. "I don't mind either way, although it's always fun to undress a woman, especially if she's wriggling and squealing."

"I'd rather you just let me walk out of here," I told him. "It's what your Boss meant. Why don't you ring him and ask him?"

I got a look that implied I was insane. Ring the Boss just to ask if it was OK for him to fuck her? She had to be crazy.

"Look, if the Boss tells me to fuck you and I do, he has no problems. If he doesn't care and I fuck you, he had no problems. It's only when I don't do as I'm told does he have problems. Safer all round if I just fuck you. I said I'd apologise if I got it wrong. Now are you stripping or not?"

I was stripping. No way I wanted that grinning gorilla taking my clothes off. That doesn't mean I was stripping quickly. I took my own sweet time, hoping for a chance to run.

And I got one. I was down to a nervous pair of panties when my friendly thug turned aside for a moment. I bolted past him towards the door before I even stopped to think. I managed a good two steps before that maniac reached out an arm and just scooped me up.

"Naughty, naughty," he said. "That earns you an extra spank."

He turned and walked over to the couch, me tucked under his arm, my face about six inches from where his erection was sticking out. Not a pretty sight, when I knew what he was going to do with the stupid thing.

He sat down comfortably on the couch, draping me across his knee. I was feeling relieved that at least I still had my panties on, but that was more a wish than an actuality.

I will admit he was innovative in the way he took them off. His hand slid under my panties, fingers spread to cover my whole bottom, and then he just moved his hand down around the curve of my bottom. He finished up covering my mound and squeezed it. Surprisingly gently, for such a big man. Then he pushed his hand down along my legs, stroking my inner thighs, and my panties just went along for the ride.

Then he gave my panties a flick and I was completely naked, lying across the hairy thighs of a naked stranger, his cock pressing against my side. I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that his cock wasn't as hairy as the rest of him. It was not, I assure you, turning out to be the best day of my life.

The next thing I know, a great big hand has glommed onto my breasts and was rubbing back and forth across them, paying special attention to my nipples, rubbing them in little circles, apparently on the assumption that this would titillate me. And it did, damn it. I could feel my nipples hardening while he was doing it. I've always loved having my breasts touched.

At the same time his other hand had returned to cupping my pussy. He started squeezing it softly, his hand rubbing along it, his fingers teasing my lips apart but not trying to push between them.

I promptly started squealing and wriggling and protesting generally. For my pains I got a slap on the bottom and told not to be in such a hurry. In a hurry? Was he kidding?

So all I could do was lie there while his paws made free of my body. Trying to take consolation where I could find it I did note that at least he'd forgotten about spanking me. And if he managed to get me sufficiently worked up, maybe being fucked by him wouldn't be too bad. (I've heard some men give their cocks pet names. This oaf probably calls his King Kong. I was not looking forward to meeting it with thoughts of rapture in my head.)

I could feel warmth starting to burn within, and I knew I was getting wet. I was wondering how long a gorilla takes for foreplay when he suddenly took his hands off me.

"This is fun," he said, "but it's not getting the job done."

I was bracing myself, ready to be picked up and plonked onto his cock or something, when one of his hand pressed against the small of my back and the other came down so hard on my bottom I thought he was going to break it.

I screamed. It hurt. It really hurt.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed at him.

"Smacking your bottom," he said, sounding puzzled. "Surely you remember I was going to do that before I fucked you?"

"Then what was with all the groping," I protested.

"A bit of harmless fun before we started business," the brute said smugly, and then his hand descended on my bottom again and I screamed again.

It was a partnership. He spanked and I screamed. When he spanked harder, I screamed louder. At times I think he was trying to see if he could get me to squeal a tune, the way he kept varying the way he spanked.

He spanked me hard and fast and he spanked me hard and slow. Every so often he would stop and give my bottom a little massage, soothing it a little. By an odd chance, these little massages always seemed to flow over onto my pussy. Just often enough to keep the fires burning, and I'm damn sure he knew it.

For a while I thought my bottom would fall off, he was spanking it so hard, then I was wishing it would fall off, it was smarting so much. By the time he decided to call it a day my bottom was just a mass of burning pain. It was probably bright red and there was no way I was going to sit on it for at least a month.

When Thug One finally desisted and stood me on my feet I didn't even think of running. All I wanted to do was rub my poor bottom, and at the same time there was no way I was going to touch it. I just stood there looking up at the brute who'd been manhandling me, a tear in my eye.

He just smirked at me.

"I was going to ask if you've got a favourite position to be fucked," he said, "but I've decided I don't really care. By the way, if you want to squeal and wriggle and struggle while I stick it to you, feel free. It makes it interesting."

I promptly decided I would be totally silent and wouldn't move a muscle. Damned if I was going to make it interesting for him.

He turned me to face the couch and forced me to bend over it. OK. Maybe he didn't actually force me to bend over, but he indicated that I should, so I did. A tap on my ankles and I hastily moved my legs further apart.

Then I waited for the torment to begin.

Would you believe the swine just started gently stroking my pussy again? Instead of sticking it to me he just gently rubbed me and caressed me, slowly stoking the fires that he'd set alight earlier. I wanted to wriggle and squeal, believe me, but I just stood there, suffering, breathing hard.

I didn't wriggle when he eased my lips apart and slipped his finger inside me. I might have jumped a bit, but it wasn't a wriggle. And I may have squeaked a little but that was all. You can't really blame me. He had enormous hands. Boys have flashed cocks at me that were smaller than his blasted finger, and this was just the beginning.

He took his time exploring inside me, and his other hand was reaching around me playing with my breasts again. He was slowly but surely getting me all worked up again and there was nothing I could do about it.

Picking his moment, he stretched my lips apart, and I turned my head to try and watch as he pressed his cock against my opening. With that first pressure I decided I didn't want to watch after all and I looked elsewhere, but my eyes were wide open. Almost popping out of my head as I felt that thing entering me.

I promptly threw my resolutions out the window and I squealed and wriggled with the best of them as he slowly pushed into me. He didn't seem to care, just holding my breasts in his great paws while he just continued to push while I wriggled like a butterfly on a pin.

Thinking about it, I have to admit he wasn't hurting me. It was just the shock of having something that size stuck in me when I didn't want it. I don't care if my pussy was pushing back against him just as hard as he was pushing against it. Intellectually, I didn't want it.

As you can guess, my entire attention was being rapidly focused onto my pussy and his cock. Everything else was becoming incidental to the fact that I was female with a pussy and he was male with a cock. And then he gave one last push and I was riding him.

I suppose I should say that he was riding me as I was bending over and he was covering me like a blanket, and starting to pound into me. Have you ever seen the finish of a horse race with the horse going flat out and the tiny jockey up on top of it bouncing up and down for dear life, urging his horse on?

That was what it was like, but I was the tiny horse and he was a giant jockey and that was a hell of a spur he was sticking me with. He was slamming into me and I was pushing up to meet him, scared of what might happen if I lost the rhythm. I was vaguely conscious of him mauling my breasts as he rode, and I later found bruises like fingerprints on them.

But like I said, things like hands mauling my breasts were incidental to the main event, which was his cock thundering back and forth, wreaking havoc on my delicate nerves. He didn't seem to slow down or speed up at any stage. He apparently had one speed when it came to the gentle art of lovemaking and that was full steam ahead.

Not that I was complaining. Well, I was, but only verbally. My whole body was bouncing under the power of his thrusts and absolutely revelling in it. I'd never been fucked like that before. It occurred to me that I'd been missing out and that I'd really have to speak to my boyfriend about his style. (That thought came after the event. I wasn't thinking anything coherent while that cock was in me, blasting away.)

Thug One kept pounding into me, driving me rapidly towards a climax. I could feel it coming and I welcomed it, because that would be the end of it and I could go home.

I'm rather naïve at times. I just screamed and let my climax wash through me, loving the feel of it and the relief it brought with it. But did I have time to relax and savour the glory of it?

Thug one didn't even fucking slow down. He just kept powering along, my climax totally irrelevant to what he was doing. Apparently when he fucks someone, they really get fucked. He continued pounding my pussy, his cock sliding in and out with these great long strokes, pulling almost all the way out and then charging back home, his testicles slapping hard against my pussy with each thrust.

I've heard that if you hit a man in the testicles, he crumbles. The way Thug One's testicles were slapping against me I'd say it wouldn't happen to him. They were tough enough to be used as a punching bag. And big enough, from what I felt slapping against me.

On the few occasions (very few) I've had a second climax the second one has always come very quickly after the first. Today was no exception. I could feel it gathering force while Thug One went his happy way.

This time when my climax hit I clamped down so hard on the oaf's cock that he had no choice but to come. I held it locked in my passage while he erupted and flooded me.

Afterwards he just turned to me and told me to get dressed and he'd take me back to town. Or to where he picked me up, anyway.

So I finished up the day my old self again. I don't know who Marie Henderson is, but I wish her luck and hope she never finds me. I just about maxed out her credit cards.