She loved the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Indeed, she even called it (but only in a whisper to herself), "my lover." With good reason, for she always dressed and undressed in front of it, and the sight of herself doing either aroused her. And the arousal often led to self-pleasure, the only sex she had.
It wasn't the life she expected after marriage, however. She was always sensual, and looked forward to the day when she would first make love, expecting it to be the start of a life of love-making. She held her virginity for her wedding, but was disappointed in losing it that eagerly-awaited night. Her husband wasn't as passionate as she had hoped, nor as hard. He lay on top of her, thrusting half-heartedly until her hymen softly tore. After a few strokes she began to feel pleasure in her womanhood, but just as she did, he came and then rolled over to fall asleep. That was the first and the last time he had sex with her.
She thought at first that it was her fault, that she wasn't attractive or arousing enough for him. She tried to arouse him in every way she could think of: she found new ways of walking, of talking, of dressing, but none would lead him to her thighs. It was during this time that she bought the mirror, and as she dressed or practiced her walks, she found her sensuality arousing herself. And so she also turned to pleasuring herself and gave up on her husband. And so it remained for nearly five years.
Anyone who saw her, who knew her would have been amazed at his indifference. She enjoyed her senses; tastes, sounds, scents, touches, and sights all appealed to her and pleased her, and her simple delight in foods and songs and everything else spread to those around her. And her looks! As beautiful, if not more so, than when she was a twenty-three year old bride. Fine, smooth skin over a face and body that could easily have been a model's: dark, fiery eyes over full red lips, all framed by tresses that plunged to her waist; an hour-glass torso with full, firm breasts and hips to match; and endless legs joining at naked, intricate folds of flesh that covered her pink furrow.
This night, about two weeks before their fifth anniversary, started as all the others. He sat, fully dressed, in his favorite Italian Provincial armchair silently watching his favorite tv shows. She stood naked before her mirror, slowly dressing, stepping into her black silk thong, sliding her black thigh-highs slowly up her legs, fastening her black lace strapless bra, and shimmying into a little black cocktail dress. Her hands caressed her curves as she dressed, and she fantasized an evening at the casino with men vying to be with her.
They were both brought out of their little worlds by the sudden and insistent ringing of the doorbell. He went to the door and opened it slightly to see who was there and immediately found himself thrown back into the room as a man forced his way in. The stranger was on top of the husband in a instant, brandishing a hunting knife and quietly ordering his victim to be even quieter. The husband complied, and another man entered, locking the door behind himself. The wife called out from the bedroom, and the second man also drew a knife and proceeded upstairs. In a few moments he returned, standing behind the wife and driving her downstairs to the living room.
"Now," said the first man, "Keep quiet and do what you're told, and you won't get hurt." "Understand?"
The couple nodded their heads in acceptance.
The man waved his knife at the husband. "You, take off your clothes. Right now!"
The husband stripped to his underwear.
"Everything!" said the man, and the husband complied.
"Now sit in that chair," and he sat once again in his favorite seat.
The other man approached him, now, taking a roll of duct tape from his pocket. He grabbed the husband's ankles and pulled him forward until he was on the edge of the chair and then drew his ankles, one at a time, back to the rear legs of the chair. The tape now, and he tightly fastened each ankle to its chair leg.
He stood looking at the husband, his legs spread, his flaccid penis exposed, and then took hold of his wrists, drawing his arms around the back of the chair. He wrapped the tape tightly around the husband's wrists, now, securing him to the chairback.
Both men looked at him and laughed before turning their attention to the wife.
She was frightened, but also excited and strangely aroused. Her heartbeat quickened and she felt an unfamiliar tingling between her legs. She was sure they wouldn't hurt her, but wondered what was to come.
"Come here!" ordered the first man, and she obeyed, stopping between the two men, her side towards her husband.
He lightly drew the blade down her cheek and then over her neck before sliding it under the strap of her dress. She gasped as he slit the strap, but still felt no fear. Then the other man, standing behind her, quickly cut the other strap, and her dress fell to the floor.
The first man stood there, seeming to admire her body, lust rising in his eyes, and she took time to look at him. He was over six feet tall, muscular and well proportioned, with deep, grey eyes. "Sensual eyes," she thought to herself, "not cruel." He sensed that she liked what she saw.
His knife now found its way between her breasts and under her bra. She felt the other knife force its way under the back of her bra as well. She gasped a shallow breath and held it as the knives cut in unison and her bra fell. She made no effort to hide her nakedness, and the man, and her husband, could both see the tight stiffening of her nipples.
The man lifted her left breast with the flat of his blade and then let it slide off as he walked around behind her. The second man, the one who took her from the bedroom, came in front now, and she saw he was as tall, as well-built, and as handsome as the first. As he gazed on her, smiling lustfully, she felt his blade against her hip, lifting the side of her thong. He held it there as his partner inserted his knife on the other side, and again they cut in unison. Again she made no effort to hide her nakedness, and the second man, and her husband, both saw the glistening of the fluid running lightly down her thigh.
The man behind her spoke. "Undress him. Now"
She obeyed, starting at his shirt, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons from the neck down and then slowly reaching up to draw the front over his shoulders and down his back. As she did so, she let the back of her hands brush over his muscles. She knelt, then, to undo the buckle, button and zipper of his jeans and slide them down his legs towards the floor. She couldn't help but notice the bulge straining at his underwear as she bent forward to remove his shoes and socks. With those gone, his pants came entirely off and she turned her attention to his briefs, rolling them over his hips so his penis would be held and then suddenly released. She smiled to herself as the organ sprang up at her, and she let her long hair brush over it as she bent to remove his briefs.
"Stand up." " Turn around." "Now him." The naked man now gave the orders, and again she obeyed. Perhaps with even more relish; she liked the look of the first man more, and paid even more attention to undressing him. No brushing his chest with the back of her hand; for him she placed her palms full on his chest, centered on his tight pecs so she could feel his tense little nipples press into her hands and then slid them over his muscles to drop the shirt from his shoulders. She feigned trouble with his shoes so she could press her breasts against his thighs and her cheeks against his hips. And the briefs. She rolled down the back first, her hands gliding over his firm buttocks until they were free of the cloth. Then her hands slid around the front and drew the waistband down in the middle so his stiffening organ burst free encircled by her thumbs and forefingers. She wondered if her husband was watching.