The Descent

With Monday morning came a sobering realization. He had betrayed his marriage vows. He had done so, gleefully, at the first real hint of temptation that he had ever encountered. He had leapt at the opportunity -- worse still, he was actively plotting how to continue that betrayal. He had deceived his wife, he had not confessed, he had no intention of confessing. Or of stopping.

And it was not just physical. "Love you," his wife had said, kissing him as she left the car, and he had responded to her, kissing her back, reaffirming his love. His love. How many times had they repeated those words, until they had become routine, perhaps meaningless. Kak loobloo ya vac. How much I love you. He had fallen in love with Karina. It had happened out on the deck, before he had seen her murals, before he had tasted her desire, and possibly her shit. All that had happened later on had just cemented that emotion. Well, wasn't that how he and his wife had started -- that mixer where they had staggered back to his room, more than a little drunk? Wasn't their whole life together the reverberation of that first passionate encounter? His head buried in her groin, his cock plunged into her mouth, dress pulled up, pants pulled down, they had still been wearing their shoes when they woke up the next morning, they had still been facing opposite directions in his little bed. God! He had never had a moment like that -- until Friday night.

Remorse was replaced with something else, and he felt himself stiffening. Not good. The day was surprisingly warm, and he was running in summer mode -- just shoes, sock, and jogging shorts, light nylon ones, so sheer that they were no more than a mild sunscreen. They gave him an all around tan, no tan line to speak of, just like a porn star. His wife teased him about it, about his big brown cock, but he could tell she liked it. Of course, back in the woods, he took off the shorts altogether sometimes. Today, he decided, was going to be one of those days. He would go for a very long run. He would get very tired. He would not, would not, run in the neighbourhood where he might encounter Karina. And he most definitely was not going onto her street. Not for a long time. He must have been out of his mind to even consider her suggestion.

But, when he came back to the entrance to his development, there she was, jogging up the road from the other direction. She was also attired in summer mode -- sports bra and hip huggers. No matter what she had said about not being in shape, she looked amazing -- her belly was a grid of muscle, her limbs smooth and strong. She ran with an effortless grace. She stopped as she came up to him, still breathing a bit heavily, her breasts bobbing up and down. He could not take his eyes off of them.

"Good morning," he ventured.

She glanced at her watch. "It is, perhaps, good afternoon."

"How are you?"

"I am very well. And you?"

"Restless." He blurted it out.

"Ah," she smiled, "it is unfortunate for you that your son interrupted. Well, perhaps, some other time."

"Perhaps." He could not conceal his disappointment. God, he was making a fool of himself!

"You are, perhaps, impatient?" He blushed. "I will make you, how would you say it, a proposal?"

"A proposition," he suggested.

"Perhaps that is the word. What is the distinction?"

"A proposal is more honourable. You propose marriage. You proposition a roll in the hay."

"A roll in the hay? Oh, a fuck?" He nodded, flushing. "Well, perhaps, then, this is more of a proposition. We will race to the top of the hill. Not the very top," she hastened to add. That was more than a thousand feet up. "Just up to the intersection for my street."

"And?"

"If you can defeat me, I will be at your disposal."

"My disposal?"

"Yes. You may do anything you wish."

"Sexual?" He had to ask.

"Of course, sexual. What do you think we are talking about?"

"And if I do not defeat you?"

"Our fortunes will be reversed. It is it a bargain?"

"A deal."

"A deal, then. Do you agree?"

"Of course."

"Good." And she went dashing up the entrance road. For a while he thought that he was going to catch her. He actually got to the point where, leaping, he might have been able to catch an ankle, make the touchdown saving tackle. But she escaped him. In the end, she was at the intersection for at least twenty seconds before he pulled up beside her, exhausted and defeated.

"You have lost," she pointed out.

"Yes."

"You are my slave for the remainder of the day."

"I have to be home by three. When Billy gets off the bus."

"I will keep that in mind. Until then, you must honour our agreement."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Karina."

She slapped him, not on the cheeks, but on the groin. The flimsy nylon offered no protection from the sting of her palm. "Yes, mistress," she growled.

"Yes, mistress," he echoed.

"That is better. Now, come, we have much to do." She ran down the street, rapidly, and he trailed after her. She sprinted down her driveway, even less cautiously that Billy had, and he picked his way down through the leaves and acorns.

"Doesn't anyone ever sweep this?" he grumbled.

"Ah, what a good idea. If we have time, that will be one of your duties."

"You want me to do housework?" That provoked another slap.

"You will do exactly what I tell you. Without question. That is your forfeit. Believe me," she added, "sweeping leaves is nothing compared to what will be required of you."

They entered the house. "Cleanse yourself," she said. "Use that bathroom." She gestured to the one off of the kitchen. "Purge yourself, also."

"Purge myself?"

"Your bladder. Your bowels. Here." She handed him a tube. "Wash with this."

He looked at it. Depilatory cream. "Here," she said, "turn around." She was rubbing it over his back. "You will use it on the rest of your body. Make sure you clean up the shower."

"How am I going to explain this to my wife?" He blurted it out.

"Remember what I said about the yacht? You will have to deal with that when the time comes. Perhaps she will prefer you without hair. Rub it on before you begin to purge yourself," she added. "That will give it sufficient time to take effect."

"Enema?"

"What?"

He had read about enemas when he had been doing his research. "Do I need to use an enema?"

"You must learn how to prepare yourself," she said. "It is part of your training."

"Training?"

She frowned. For the second time, she appeared agitated. "You must be ready to please my husband, when he returns. If you give him pleasure, he will reward me for my actions."

"And if I do not."

"I will be punished." The fear in her eyes was real.

"Karina, what is your husband like? Does he abuse you?"

She paused. "He disciplines me."

"Do you love him?"

"I serve him."

"By betraying him?" He could not help it. His own betrayal was weighing on him too heavily.

He was sure that she was going to slap him, maybe even kick him, but she only took a deep breath, and sighed. "Do you read the Bible?"

"The Bible?" He was startled. "Not much. But I listen to it, in church. I have had it read to me, many times."

"The parable of the talents? The good and faithful servant? My husband does not expect me to waste my talents. He expects me to employ them to serve his pleasure."

"And your own?"

"Of course my own. My God, that is the game we play, he and I. I may please myself. I must please him."

"And if you fail?"

"He will find another. There are many pretty girls in Moldavia."

"And what will happen to you?" She did not answer. "My God, Karina, what will happen to you?" She turned her face away, and he grabbed in, turned her chin. "What will happen?"

"Whatever," she said at last, "happened to the ones who came before me."

"My God!" He sat down, sweaty as he was, on one of the white leather couches. "Karina, you don't have to do this. You can go to the police."

"The police," she snorted. "They will deport me."

"In your own country?"

"Obviously," she said, "you know nothing about my country. My husband is very powerful there."

"How long can this go on?"

"Long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

"Tom," she was pleading now, "if you do not do as I say, if you do not follow my instructions precisely, it will not go on longer than a month. Do you understand? You will be punished, also, if you fail to please him."

"I don't want any part of this." He got up, started towards the door.

"Tom, it is too late. You made your decision Friday night. There is no escaping now." The only way out is through the chimney. He repeated that, aloud, and she just nodded. "Do not be so dejected." She smiled. "I will train you. You will please him. Everything will be okay. I would not have chosen you, if I did not think it would be so."

"Okay." He was beginning to calm down.

"Go. Prepare yourself as I have instructed. Then we will begin."

"Lunch?"

"It will be better to have an empty stomach. You will see."

Everywhere. She had told him to use the depilatory cream everywhere, but he was assuming that did not include the hair on this head. What there was of it. It was starting thin a bit, more than a bit, on its own. Hair descent. That's what his wife had teased him about when he had started to shave less often. The hair migrating from the top of his head down to his chin. All of him had been getting more hairy, little by little, over the years. Cream on his chest, underarms, arms, wrists, ankles, calves, thighs, his butt, his balls, his stomach, his groin. It tingled, no, more than tingled, it burned, and he wondered if he was allergic, if he was going to swell up into one massive pustule. The thought, literally, scared the shit out of him. So much for purging. But then he thought of what might happen to him next, and he strained to empty himself even more. Into the shower, at last, and the hair washed off of him in great gobs. He was scooping it out of the drain for five minutes.

The door opened. "Are you in difficulty?" It was Karina. She had, it appeared, showered. Her hair was still wet. She was naked, except that her groin was covered with a strapon. She was sporting a huge purple penis. Well, big enough. Bigger, he thought ruefully, than he was, by at least half an inch. Thicker, too. The head flared out in an exaggerated circumcision effect, then the shaft narrowed sharply for a while, before it became very wide.

"It is designed," she said, "not to fall out accidentally. Come, let us begin."

If there had ever been any doubt what was about to happen to him, it was gone now. It was obvious that huge purple thing was headed up his butt. And soon.

"You are trembling."

"I'm okay. Just a bit chilly."

"Do you require more opportunity to purge?"

I'm going to puke ,he thought. I'm going to lose my breakfast because I am so terrified. "I'll be okay."

"Yes." She kissed him, soothed him. "You will be okay. You will even enjoy it. Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

She became very serious. "You must trust me now. If your body resists, it will be very painful."

"The inner sphincter ..."

"Yes. You have been doing reading?" He nodded. "You must train yourself to accept this pleasure. We are starting out with something very small."

"That?" He stared at the huge purple dildo. "That is small?"

"Ah, my friend, you will see. Come." She led him down the hall, past the living room, past the bathroom with the amazing murals. The next room should have been a bedroom, but it was not. Instead it looked like a cross between a doctor's examination room and a gymnasium.

"What is this?" He was trying to make sense of the furniture, or equipment, or whatever it was, crowded into the room.

"Ah, my friend, this is our recreation room. You will see. Now, I will give you a choice, to begin. Do you prefer to see me?"

"How could I not prefer to see you?"

"Ah, you are very gallant. Very well then. We will begin over here." She pointed to what looked like an examination table. "Lie down upon it, on your back. No, further forward, so that your hips are just at the edge. Draw your legs back on either side." He was having trouble staying on the table in that position. He was in danger of sliding off onto the floor, right onto his unprotected butt and balls. She was giggling at his incompetence.

"Come," she said, walking behind him, "give me your hands." She didn't give him much choice. She grabbed his wrists from behind him, pulled them back roughly. They were jammed against something hard and cold, and he heard two clicks.

"What the fuck?" Too late, he thought to struggle, to protest. But his hands were locked behind him.

"You will train in bondage. It is likely that my husband will require this of you, at times, and you must be ready for it." She saw him squirming to escape. "You will injure yourself doing that. Here." She took some gauze pads out of a drawer and stuffed them into the space between his wrists and the restraints. "That should prevent you from harming yourself with your foolishness."

"At times?" He was mulling over what she had said. "Your husband may require bondage, at times?"

"Yes, at times he prefers it."

"At times. Other times, no?"

"Other times, possibly, not. It will depend how well you please him."

"Karina, how long will this go on?"

"Until he tires of you. Or me. Or both," she sighed.

"What happens then?"

"Better not to worry. Come, let us begin."

"Karina." He was filled with panic. "Karina, I can't do this!"

"You no longer have a choice. I have no choice but to train you. You have no other choice but to be trained." He did not protest as she slid a soft smooth belt around his left foot, sliding it up behind his knee. The same on the right. It was only as those belts tightened behind him that he complained, and by then it was much too late. They had forced his knees up to his shoulders, spread apart so the he was completely exposed.

"Are you quite comfortable?" she asked.

"Not at all."

"Good. Keep in mind, that you are helpless to protect yourself. You are," she smiled, "at my mercy." She went over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, back behind his head again.

"What are you doing?"

"My husband will want to monitor your progress in training."

"You are recording this?"

"Of course. Do you want to see?" There was a small LCD monitor in front of him, up above his head, like the ones in the dentist's office. It flickered on, and he saw himself. She fiddled with the remote, and the picture zoomed in on his balls and asshole. Interesting. He had never seen his body from that perspective. Something dark flashed across the screen. He heard a sharp slapping sound. He jerked, then he felt his groin exploding in pain. He had been so intent on the image on the monitor that he had never noticed the whisk as it descended.

"What the fuck?" His protest was cut off by another slap against his balls.

"It is to prepare you." The whisk caressed him this time, then slapped again. It was not as painful now. He liked that sharp little bite, and smack as it pressed into him, the afterglow at the base of his balls. He was waiting for the next slap, almost anticipating it. Another time, and he was sporting an erection. Another time, below his balls this time, right on his asshole, and he was beginning to dribble.

"Enough," she said. She didn't have to ask him if he had enjoyed it. She picked up a tube from the table, squeezed it onto a finger, and ran that finger around the swollen ring of flesh behind his balls. Whatever it was seemed cold and sticky. "Lubricant," she told him. "You will hope that my husband will be so kind." She smeared some over the dildo. She leaned forward and began to press it into him.

"Aren't you supposed to use a finger first?" That was what he had read on the internet. He had even tried that himself, working his finger in gingerly, feeling how the muscular tube grabbed at it.

That provoked a laugh. "My friend, do you think that anyone is going to take the time to prepare you gently? Be grateful that I am so gentle this first time." She pressed hard, and he gave a little yelp. She stood up.

"Tom, my friend. You must be brave. Believe me, this will not harm you."

"Hurt me?"

"There may be some pain. My friend, we are runners, you and I. We know that pain can lead to pleasure, can it not? And this little pain, this brief discomfort, can lead to very considerable pleasure. Have you not investigated that it is so?" He nodded. "Then trust me. It will hurt less, or not at all, if you can ease your mind. Can you do that for me, my friend?"

"I think so."

"Good. Close your eyes. It may be easier if you just feel what is about to happen."

He closed his eyes, almost -- he peeked, and saw her moving in position again, carefully aiming the dildo with one hand. He could feel the cold blunt tip of it, just pressing lightly against the outer ring of his anus. It was a pleasant feeling, and it got better as he opened to her a little more. Because he was peeking, he was not completely surprised when her other hand slapped hard against his balls -- stinging, then crushing, knocking the breath out of him. In the midst of that shock, he felt the dildo plunging through the inner sphincter, feeling like it was tearing it apart. Then the thick head was through, it was sliding up his bowels, and he had contracted around the slimmer shaft, trapping it.

"Oh my!" The monitor confirmed that half of the dildo had vanished within him. She moved it in and out a little -- out to the point where the thick head jammed against his inner ring, in to the point where the base widened so much that it was stretching him once more. Between those points there was no pain -- just -- what? He liked it when his wife grabbed him behind the balls. This was like that, only better. She began to move more forcefully.

"Oh my God. I'm getting fucked." It was such a stupid thing to say. He had often wondered what it felt like, on the other side. He had wondered what his wife was feeling as he pressed into her as deep and hard as he could, as he tried to split her apart. Often, she just lay there with her eyes closed -- was it possible she wasn't feeling anything? Now he knew what it was like to have a penis -- albeit an artificial one -- sliding within him. It was -- nice. It was getting nicer all the time. There was a place inside him, back behind his balls, that was beginning to glow with pleasure.

"You like?" she asked. She started to push in a little harder. He could feel that broad tip pressing against a second point of resistance. She must have sensed it also -- she stopped pressing, and slapped his balls again, not so hard this time. He gasped. The glow inside him was starting to tingle. "Again?"

"Please."

She slapped again, harder this time. "Too hard?"

It had hurt him, but now everything was on fire. She was starting to push a little harder again. The tip was starting to worm its way into the resistance, and the broader base was stretching him. But it was okay. It was more than okay.

Another slap. This one caught one of his testicles head on, and he yelped with pain.

"Sorry," she said. She leaned over onto the table, pressing her glorious bare breasts into him, still fucking him. How strange that was, to feel her body lying on his, to feel her flesh, or an extension of it, moving inside of him. She reached up as far as she could, not quite as far as his mouth, and kissed him. "Are you ready?"

For what? "Yes," he said, not daring to ask.

She stood back up, and pressed harder. Something within him parted, and he felt that blunt tip forcing its way up into a narrow channel. The plush fabric of the strapon was brushing him. The dildo had vanished completely within his bowels. She stopped moving.