All character's are over 18
I had swung my racquet with all my might at the little black ball, I had it, I fucking had it that time!
But I didn't, in pursuit of a challenge in a sport I didn't have more than high school experience in, I had sweated my way around the court to my detriment. The patch of floor I had counted on to be my firm and steadfast friend repelled my body's liquids, my foot pressed firmly above and I slipped, the little black ball sailing over my now prone body.
I didn't even poke a face at the laughs and cat calls coming from behind the squash court glass, I was tired, I was gooey and I was down my yearly bonus to the grinning face that appeared above me. The 'polite hand of help' descended and I took it in one of my own to regain my feet.
Mike had pursed his lips and shook his head, 'Sasha If it had just been darts and snooker you would be spending my bonus right now. Good thing we drew my sport out the hat last. Now I get to take my wife on a trip to the Bahamas.'
I wanted to make some sort of jovial 'next time Mike, next time.' but I was gassed and so I just leant over and puffed for a bit before straightening my forty five year old frame and staggering out into the corridor so the next two idiots could battle it out.
The pool soothed the ego and the sauna after soothed the muscles. It was quiet when it got late and I was left alone to my thoughts, 'Two more years at the company and I will take my daughter Katey away to Europe for some life experience, see a bit of the world.' Bout time anyway, such a book worm, she was almost old enough to drink, in some countries well past allowed. Did she use her privilege's? No! I think the most wild thing I ever saw her do was skinny dip in the back yard when she thought no one was home.
My musings were broken into by the attendant coming by to check the sauna was empty, they turfed me out with their fingers held up in the 'five minutes' count which I took to mean, five minutes to get dressed or get shut in.
I preferred it when there was no one in the changing room to ogle me, I know I am not supposed to care about other women but they are not covered in scars and tattoos of a nature I would rather keep to myself. In sharing that fact you might as well know I got them from a very long mistake, I wish I hated it entirely but I didn't and so I have hesitated to go get therapy about it.
Instead I guiltily masterbate every week when the pressures of the office get too much.
The long mistake in question was going away on my eighteenth birthday with a rich forty year old man to be his sex slave. It was willing, mostly, the mostly part was when it was good, him, myself, a few others my own age. The other bit was when we stopped at a port where he quickly found deviants who liked to do things to me that were well past my limits. He would almost always stop it before it marked me up permanently but he wasn't a good judge of character and so he didn't stop a few to my detriment.
When I finally got home in my early twenties having been around the world on a boat several times, I had some scars, mostly emotional but a few physical. The tattoos came next, to hide or work alongside the marks.
By my late twenties I had decided to regain my life, went to University to study Accounting and graduated to work in the industry. From there it got normal, dalliances, followed by marriage to a John, followed by a house, followed by having my child Katey.
I was bored, the husband while loyal and adoring, he was boring. When you have been fucked senseless to over twenty orgasms while suspended in rope between two masts on a boat, a few strawberries and cream picnics are not going to make the grade after a while. I didn't need it all the time, just every now and again? Please? Wreck me? Gag me with your cock till I black out? But even raising the subject of binding my wrists made him look green at the gills.
So, when the man of yesteryear showed up with his boat of deviants still rocking the high seas and called my cell phone, it didn't take me more than ten minutes to make up my mind. I tried to tell myself it took longer to convince me but I was packing my overnight bag before I had even told John I was going out to a friend to give them comfort in their distress.
I was so excited that I forgot to tell one of my friends to cover for me if John rang, but he wouldn't ring, would he? But you know he did.
I think it was when the skinny pimply nineteen year old teenager with the unreasonably long thin cock had just gotten me off with a large vibrator shoved in my arse and in my cunt. He was feeding his cock down my throat and put the headset to my ear. I mean it was sweet of him to try and be helpful but it was really hard to try and keep my voice straight when riding the biggest long overdue cum on the edge. Which I fell off.
'Oh god! Honey! F...F...fu,u,uh, uck!' I drooled and exclaimed into the mouthpiece and he knew. I had only cum like that with him once before, when John had whisked me away from a bad party like some savior angel, it had gotten me hot and bothered and I had forced the car into a park and fucked him on a bus stop bench, right there on the side of the road, traffic whizzing past in the night, while it poured with rain. John hadn't cum, he didn't cum for a few weeks afterwards, he seemed almost shell shocked at what had happened.
All the usual noises 'What if people had seen?' I told him they probably did and then went home and fucked their spouses stupid.
'What if we got arrested? Public indecency?' and I shrugged, 'Not really a career killer for me.'
You are probably wondering why this sexually charged human at least back then ever decided to marry such a stick in the mud and it really comes down to money.
Money of the kind he made bought a whole lot of comfort, and if you think that money can't buy happiness then you a: have not heard of puppies and b: it buys one hellavah class of misery.
So John heard the noises coming out of my mouth that he knew he was never going to hear again and he got mad, for what I assumed was the first time and the last time in my company.
Eventually I returned home, I have to confess I stayed on that boat a long time, fucked a lot of cock and licked a lot of pussy, got annally worn out and was leaking copious amounts of fluid from my arse, pussy and hair. I knew I was going home to a divorce so, why not?
John was waiting for me in the garage and as I parked up and killed the engine he didn't move while the garage door descended. Then like a snake he struck.
Lunged at my driver side door, popped it, produced a knife and cut my seat belt. I actually thought he was going to kill me and so I went to push him away as hard as I could but he grabbed my hair, pulled my head out of the car and slapped me. Then as I was watching the dancing lights, grabbed the front of my dress and dragged me out onto the garage floor.
'You want to be treated like a whore?' Well then, I shall use you like a whore and piss on you like a whore and pay you out like a whore.'
Every time I went to stand he pushed me back down or knocked the legs out from under me, the world now had a garage ceiling for a sky and my back only knew cold concrete for terra firma.
Electrical tape was wrapped around my head, it pulled at my hair and bits of it tickled at the sides of my mouth where he had forced it open to pass the tape between my teeth.
Where he learned to bind ankles and wrists so fast I might never get the chance to ask about, but he was quick, the clarity of sight had not yet come back and so I was effectively immobilized on my own garage floor.
I started to sort of shriek and cry at the same time, he didn't like that too much, his angry face appeared beside mine, 'You want something to cry about? I will give you something to cry about!'
Men are strong, even the ones that are average in size, my husband god bless em' came from the school of 'do you even lift bro?!' and for all his lack of fun was cut. Which just goes to show that we ladies like the looks but it sure isn't everything that gets us going.
John used that strength to flip me onto my front like I was a cat, a very wriggly cat.
But to stop the wriggling he just stood on my neck, it was hard, I heard C1 and C2 finally pop into place after failed expensive chiropractors had given it a good go. If it wasn't for the fact my cheek was getting ground into a mix of concrete and the light haze of motor oil I might have said thanks.
Who am I kidding? Right at that moment I was scared, very very scared. There were no safe words, no fake heightened emotions, his anger was real and I had no idea where it was going to stop.
I felt the cold back of a knife go up my dress, cutting it away raggedly with its partially serrated edge. It cut, caught and tore its way up and then out of the corner of my eye I saw him take a yellow extension cord from the garage bottom shelf. For a moment my mind went to the darkest place possible and assumed he was going to hang me.
I would have wrenched myself at great risk to my neck from under his heel in terror except that the direction I would have gone was the direction of a loop of doubled over yellow extension cord coming down on my arse.
It was hard, I screamed and gurgled through the tape over my mouth. John's voice was cold and angry. 'What?! What was that? A comment on my efficacy or a complaint?'
I managed to whimper 'My neck, I c, ca, can't breathe'.
He took his foot off my neck, 'I can't have you dying, I mean the paperwork is just awful.'
He used his foot to flip me over on to my back, the cool of the floor on the welt on my arse was a surprising relief for all of a few seconds.
I thought my pleading, leaking red rimmed eyes might have an effect on the ice around this man's demeanor but it did not, he smirked, a tilt of the lip that didn't reach his eyes.
'I won't kill you, but I am going to make it perfectly clear why I did not engage with your desires all these years. My own are much, much, darker.'
