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Clad only in white silk panties, My Ling slowly walked the length of the table, closely examining her prey. She pushed and prodded his torso with her foot, getting the feel of the man meat she was about to torture.
With the sole of her tiny foot she felt along his rib cage and up his side to his armpit, sensing Harry's fear from the slick coating of sweat and the involuntary twitches that jerked Harry's legs. Her glistening red toenails ran little circles around Harry's left nipple as she watched it harden and become erect under her ministrations.
"I've waited a long time for this Harry. For years I've thought about what I would do to you when I had you in this position, and now I have you, I have you, and you are going to pay in pain and blood for everything you've done. Yes Harry, this is going to give me great pleasure - in fact we are all going to have a good time watching you suffer."
Planned this for years?! Who the hell are you, I don't even know you. Why would you be planning to hurt me?! What did I ever do to you? Oh God, leave me alone, please leave me alone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die! Harry thought, believing she might be his executioner.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on her face; tried to figure out just who she was. My Ling stared back at Harry's face and gave him a brief, ironic smile, almost a smirk.
"Don't know who I am, do you Harry? Hahh, that's pretty funny. You have eyes but you do not see. You've seen me before, many times. I've been in your house just about every day for the last two years. How about it Harry, enough clues. Have you figured it out yet.?"
Harry's eyes narrowed again as he searched his memory. He looked at her face and long, thin graceful neck. He took in her pert little breasts, tiny waist, slightly flared hips and thin, muscular legs. He stared at her panties and especially at the dark crotch which showed the outlines of her engorged labia. A small wet spot grew from between the two labia bulges. She was obviously turned on by both the situation and Harry's look of confusion.
Saw her many times . . . . in my house every day? Who the hell is she? Harry wondered.
Harry searched his memory. Something was familiar. Something about the way she moved, her slow graceful movements, reminded him of someone he'd seen. He just couldn't place it.
I've seen that movement before, but where? In my house, of course. Something else - those hands, those tiny hands with the glistening red nail polish - I've seen those also. They were moving in slow circles, pushing and kneading white flesh, the image formed in Harry's mind. Betty, Betty, she's somehow associated with my wife, Betty. It's her white flesh being kneaded, he remembered.
A picture flashed in Harry's mind, an image of his wife lying face down on a table and a small person dressed in a white uniform bent over her, kneading the white flesh of her exposed buttocks. In his mind's eye picture, he sees the hands, the red nails, her hands; he sees the image, recalling as he walked into their bedroom and seeing the white uniformed masseuse working on Betty and hearing the soft groans of pleasure those hands work worked her butt, sliding down the crack and back up again. The masseuse looks up as Harry walks in. It's her! My Ling! It's her! It's her! Harry saw the image of her face in his recollection.
Harry's eyes suddenly widen in surprise and recognition. My Ling smiles back in return and takes a few more circular swipes with her toes over Harry's erect nipple.
"Well, it took you long enough. Guess you don't pay much attention to the hired help, even the masseuse who has been in your home and massaging your wife every day."
My Ling stepped over Harry's upper chest, straddled him and slowly dropped to her knees, pressing all of her tiny frame's eighty-five pounds on him. Bracing herself with her arms on the edge of the table, she leaned forward until her face was directly over his and lowered it until it was just a few inches over him. She looked directly into his eyes, smiled and spoke in a quiet, menacing voice.
"I'm more than just your wife's masseuse, you stupid fool. After years of clumsy, incompetent, brutal lovemaking by you, your wife turned to a woman to pleasure and satisfy her. She turned to me. I'm your wife's lover, and have been for the last two years. And Harry, she has told me everything, the beatings, the rapes, and lately your predilection for ass fucking. I've also seen the bruises and tears to her beautiful skin myself. Always, the thought uppermost in my mind was revenge, revenge for what you did to my beautiful Betty. I've dreamed of this moment and planned exactly what I'm going to do to you. It's payback time Harry," she said in the same, cold, even tone.
Slowly she raised herself back to a kneeling position on Harry's chest. While still staring directly into Harry's eyes, she reached down with both hands and took his erect nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and squeezed them slowly, increasing the pressure with each grimace from Harry.
She pulled and twisted on his nipples for maximum effect, smiling in response to each facial grimace. She licked her lips with the tip of her pink tongue as Harry groaned in pain. His nipples reddened as she pinched them off at the base of the erectile tissue. She ran her thumbs over the nipple tips and smiled again.