Controlling Sara

Please read part one first. As usual I invite and welcome all comments, that will enable me to improve as an author.

*****

After all the sex acts I had made my wife perform, I took it easy for awhile. I stopped her screwing anyone but me, and went back to normal. When I took stock of what I had done with Sara, I came to the conclusion that I must be some form of sexual inadequate. I seemed to hide away and take great delight in other peoples adventures, rather than my own.

Having said that, with my unlimited supply of tablets from the ever grateful grandfather, I did help myself to two of Sara's friends. I had always lusted after Rachel and Charlotte, not to mention the hot, little young girl, across the street. All of whom, think they had the best fuck of their lives with me!

I soon tired of living normally again, even though Sara did whatever I told her to in bed, I pretty quickly started to want more. I remembered how awful I felt putting my wife through what I had, but the need was returning.

Let me tell you about Gary Jones.

Gary Jones and I loathed and despised each other. We went to the same school from the age of eight. We don't know how it started, but we do agree, on the level of hatred it had reached. Throughout school and into adulthood, I was completely overshadowed and outshone by the asshole. He was bigger than me, he was better looking, he excelled at all sports, he got better exam results, and he had all the girls. To use sports type terms, he was, MVP - Pro-bowl - Star player all the fucking lot (He wasn't all that really, but compared to me he was.)

Although I had done ok, running my own small building business, Jones had been an academic. He now worked for a blue chip company in town. I saw him from time to time coming out of the fancy glass building, with his high flyer colleagues, all tanned, in his expensive suit and getting into his expensive car, with his drop dead gorgeous wife.

Are you getting the drift here?

I couldn't even kick his ass, he would murder me!

One night I was bored and in one of my moods. Sara was getting on my fucking nerves, nagging, so I sent the bitch out to get fucked for me.

I sent Sara to dress the way I liked her, She put on black stockings and suspenders (always suspenders, as I didn't like hold ups. I always liked the way the stocking raised slightly in the clasp) She wore a thong, half cup bra and high heels, which strapped around her ankles. A mini skirt and black silk blouse completed her appearance. This had become almost like a uniform for Sara. Over the months I had sent her out dressed in different ways and styles, but I always returned to this 'classic' look. So I simply settled for the one ensemble, every time I sent her out.

I ran Sara down to the club in the car and returned home, as I had some paperwork to finish. It would be awhile until she 'pulled' and awhile longer until the action started. I got engrossed in a problem I couldn't solve and suddenly realised the time. I jumped into the car and returned to the club. I took a peek into the lounge bar to see if I could see Sara, but she wasn't there. After a quick look around the rest of the club, realising she wasn't in any other part either, I quietly made my way to my usual vantage point.

Hoping I hadn't missed any of the action, and already getting a semi hard on, I took up my place. I was too late, Sara must have pulled straight away and gone outside with him almost as quickly. I could see shadows in the darkness and could see movement that looked like they were re-arranging clothing. They were finished.

"Damn," I thought.

That thought was to be the least of my worries, when out of the shadows, rearranging his cock in his trousers, wearing the most triumphant smirk that you have ever seen, walked Gary Jones.

I was fucking stunned.

I wanted to hit out at someone, I couldn't take it out on Sara, as I had controlled her and made her do this. I couldn't take it out on him, because I didn't want to admit, that I knew that he had had my wife and he would probably kick my ass, to go with fucking her.

For days I was desolate,

"Of all the people... Oh why did she pick him?... Oh God please not that bastard... Oh that horrible asshole had had my wife," All these thoughts wouldn't leave me.

For whatever reason, I don't know why, you will have to ask a shrink, but I had to hear all the details. Maybe I hoped to hear they didn't do anything, or he couldn't get it up, they were disturbed, anything, I was desperately clutching at straws.

This may sound stupid to you, because it damn well does to me. When I heard the full account from Sara, the things you wouldn't expect, were the ones that burned me the most. When I heard of my wife on her knees, in front of my mortal enemy, sucking his big cock, when I heard of her squealing on his big hard dick as he fucked her, the thing I thought of most, was that he had seen my Sara naked. I know that sounds stupid, but the thought of her opening her blouse and showing him her tits in the half cup bra, then exposing them fully to him was awful. The further thought of him peeling her panties down and gazing at her hairy pussy and her pink lips, sent me wild with rage.

As we sat at home, Sara was totally unaware that anything untoward had even happened. She sat on the sofa innocently having a late night coffee, and I knew her pussy was full of cum from the man, that I hated most in the entire world.

I decided I couldn't live with this bastard having had my wife. I needed to get to him and make him forget. I made an appointment to see him in his office, and turned up at the appointed time. I was kept waiting for thirty minutes sat on a chair outside his door. Eventually he must have tired of humiliating me, and I was shown into his office. He stayed seated behind his desk, the bastard knew why I was here, and he had the most shit-eating, arrogant grin on his face. He smirked at me and the look we gave each other as our eyes met said,

"We both know I have fucked your slut of a wife."

"So, what the fuck do you want?" was his opening line. I had to play for time, I needed to somehow get to his coffee, with a pill.

"Look Gary, I know we haven't seen eye to eye..." I started.

"Not seen eye to eye? He interrupted, I fucking hate you, you asshole," he laughed.

I tried to keep calm,

"Yes well, err, I mean well.. I blabbed like a simpleton, I hear you saw my wife the other night," I hadn't a clue where I was going with this.

He leaned forward and winked at me,

"I did a little more than see her, you tosser," he smirked.

"What can I do?" I thought.

If Jones had an Achilles heel, it was his dislike of the amount of foreigners, asylum seekers and benefit tourists in the town. Especially the angry Pakistani youth that lounged around all day.

"Fucking spongers," was his assessment.

I got my revenge.

Jones's wife Zoë was what you would expect, given his looks and position. She was younger than Jones, early forties I would guess. She was very pretty, petite, bleach blonde hair, small but perfectly formed breasts, a trim figure and an ass to die for.

After being told by me how to play the role (obviously, her thinking it was real and natural) and what context to play it in, Zoë took centre stage.

One afternoon, Zoë walked out of the town centre pub on the arm of Jamil. She was high with the dope he had been giving her (He had given her nothing at all, it was all in her mind.) The 'drugs' made Zoë feel very horny, and it was an itch she needed scratching.

"Do you want to go somewhere, where we can keep you feeling good and enjoying yourself babe?" It was not a question from Jamil.

"Yeah sure babe, slurred Zoë, let's party," she shouted like a drunk.

As Jamil drove Zoë to his home he called Tariq and told him to get his ass to Jamil's house, and to take Asif with him.

"There you go now, be steady girl, we don't need you having an accident do we," said Jamil as he helped an unsteady Zoë from his car to the door of his house. He helped Zoë up the stairs and led her into a bedroom. The bedroom was fully light, there was only a net curtain fluttering in the air that drifted in through the open window.

Through the window, Zoë could hear all the natural sounds of a street in the middle of the afternoon. Children playing, cars starting and women conversing, in a language she didn't understand. Voices called from one garden to another across the street.

Under my direction, Zoë believed she was in love with this man. She thought she was a little afraid of him and was frightened of him dumping her. She would do anything to keep him.

Jamil turned Zoë towards him and kissed her. As his hands urgently began to undress her, Zoë made a token effort to resist. It wasn't convincing, her body seemed on fire and she wanted to get laid. As garment after garment was stripped from her, and she was left with just her panties, Zoë could hear noises from outside the bedroom.

"Who's out there?" Zoë slurred.

"Nobody babe, don't worry about it, now let's get those panties off and we can have a good time," Jamil reassured her.

Naked Zoë lay back on the bed, her small nipples hardening in the breeze from the window, her legs closed. She hoped no one across the street could see her, naked on the bed through the window, as the net curtains parted slightly, now and then, in the draught.

Jamil couldn't believe his luck today. A gorgeous woman like this had let herself be picked up so easily. Even if she was acting a bit strange he didn't care, white bitches were all sluts anyway. He didn't care for having a long session of sex, with the woman he had picked up, he just wanted to fuck her. Prising her legs apart, he put his hand on the very prominent bulge of her smooth, shaven, pubic mound. He inserted a finger and found that she was wet, she was ready, simple as that.

Jamil rolled on top of Zoë, her legs automatically spread wider and her knees rose up. He took his cock in his hand and placed it at the entrance to her wonderful smooth, pink, lips. With great delight he felt his cock slide into her hot, wet, cunt.

Zoë had no chance to enjoy the screw, let alone get anywhere near orgasm. Jamil just used her to wank his cock into. After a few minutes Jamil started banging into her really hard, the bed rocking violently. He grunted a few times, pushed himself in up to the hilt, pumped his semen into her and simply pulled out.

He had done with her, he had fucked her, cum in her slut cunt and that's all he was interested in.

Zoë lay on the bed, feeling like a piece of meat. The guy who was her boyfriend had been so mean, he hadn't told her he loved her or anything. He had just used her.

"Hey Tariq bro, you wanna get in here man?" he shouted.

Zoë tried to cover herself the best she could, as another man came in the room. He approached and stood at the foot of the bed, gazing between Zoë's legs.

"Jamil? She said in a pleading voice, can't you make him leave? He's looking at me."

Jamil sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Zoë peered at him through scared and timid eyes.

"Hey come on now babe, don't be like that. Tariq here is my main bro, he ain't doing any harm, Jamil soothed her. Why don't you let Tariq here have a little piece of that nice pussy? He won't tell anyone," he cajoled.

By now Zoë had ceased feeling sexy or horny. All she felt was confused and her mind was muddled.

"Well, I don't know, are you sure he won't tell anyone?" she mumbled, sounding like a frightened schoolgirl.

Jamil coaxed Zoë into the 'harmless little fun' of letting Tariq have her.

"But just him then, nobody else, Jamil promise?" she muttered.

Zoë laid on the bed as this man she didn't know, sat beside her. He reached over and mauled one of her tits.

"Ok girl, you ready for Tariq?" He asked. Again this was not a question. He stood and dropped his trousers, baring his cock to her.

"Say, why don't you give this a little suck to get things going huh?" He stood at the side of the bed next to her head, and roughly fed his cock into her mouth. It took less than five times sucking the angry, slightly pungent cock, into her mouth, to make him fully hard.

Tariq got on the bed, and with absolutely no consideration for her at all, simply stuck his cock in her and fucked her. As his cock pounded Zoë's pussy, Tariq whispered in her ear.

"You fucking slut whore, you dirty piece of white, cock hungry, trash. That cum hungry cunt of yours just loves it right?"

He made Zoë nod in agreement and wanted her to say it aloud. Although she meant none of it, she felt it was best to agree.

"Yes I am a whore, and I need your cock filling me with cum," she said in a daze, not understanding why she was acting in this way.

Using her and abusing her as he was, turned Tariq on massively. It lasted no time at all, and soon Tariq was grunting like a pig and humping into her, as he shot his hot cum into the slut's cunt. As Tariq pulled his cock from her, Zoë felt the cum run out of her pussy. Just as Jamil had done, once he had shot his cum in her, Tariq was totally disinterested in her.

As Zoë lay on the bed she was very conscious of lying naked, with semen running from her, in front of these two men. Jamil and Tariq were talking quietly and laughing occasionally between themselves. They had made a decision.

Asif was a big lump of a young lad, they wondered if he was 'all there' if you know what I mean. He was a simple boy who always ran errands for them, trying to please them. They knew Asif had never had a girl let him anywhere near them, due to him being a bit strange. Jamil and Tariq had decided today was the day for 'Daft Asif' to get his.

Zoë tried to get up from the bed.

"Whoa babe, where are you going?" said Jamil.

"I have let you do it to me Jamil, so can I go now?" whimpered Zoë.

"Hey sweetheart, just one more, I promise, Jamil said trying to sound caring. It's ok isn't it babes?"

As Asif was led into the room, his eyes lit up. "Jamil, Jamil, that girl has no clothes on," he said shyly and excitedly.

"That's right bro, and do you know what? She likes you, and wants you to be nice to her," Jamil teased.

Zoë looked up at the big young man, who was almost slobbering.

"Oh please Jamil honey, not him please."

"Its ok sugar he won't hurt you, why not be nice to him," insisted Jamil.

She lay back in a dazed and confused state, under the influence, she allowed herself to be used again.

Again there was no finesse. Asif climbed between Zoë's legs. He lay flat on top of her in the classic missionary position. He hooked his arms around the back of her shoulders, buried his face in the crook of her neck and pushed himself into her.

He was a big boy, in more ways than one, but she wasn't a young little virgin and with all the semen already inside her, he slid in easily. Zoë was fucked in the most fumbling and inexperienced way of her life. Urgent, uncontrolled thrust after thrust, lasting no more than two minutes, culminated in her pussy being absolutely flooded with the frustrated, pent up cum, of Asif.

Guiltily (He wasn't sure if he had done something wrong) Asif dismounted her and got off the bed. He looked at Zoë who was laid with her head to one side seemingly staring into space.

The men left her on the bed, and made their way from the room. Zoë decided she needed to pee. She crawled from the bed and looked for her clothes, they were not there. She made her way out of the room and onto what had been converted to a sitting area at the top of the stairs. The men were sat around in easy chairs smoking.

"Say girl, where you going?" asked Jamil, her clothes in a pile by his chair.

"I need to pee," Zoë embarrassingly whispered, trying to hide herself behind the door jamb.

"It's over in the corner there," said Jamil and pointed.

"But I've no clothes on," Zoë again whispered shyly.

"For fuck's sake, stupid bitch, they've all just fucked you!" Jamil said shaking his head.

Zoë had no choice, but to make her way across the room naked. She held one arm across her breasts and put one hand between her legs. She stumbled through the men and got to the toilet. Zoë sat and listened to the cum dripping from her vagina into the water. She then peed, took a deep breath and re-entered the room. To Zoë walking naked through these men, was a massive thing and an embarrassing position to be in, yet no one in the room could really care less.

She was still under the impression that Jamil was her boyfriend and she had let the others 'do it to her' just to please him.

As she crossed the room a young boy appeared up the stairs. This was Jamil's younger brother. Ali stared at the pretty, and NAKED woman stumbling across the room.

"Jamil, he said pulling on his arm, who is that?"

"No one for you to get all excited about, that's for sure," said Jamil.

"Jamil, Jamil, have you? Have you? You know, he was nodding towards Zoë, you know, have you, 'done her'?"

Jamil smiled at his younger brother and said,

"Go get your cousins, I've got a present for you."

Zoë sat in bed, pulling the covers up to hide her body, from the three young lads, that were stood looking at her.

Through my instructions, Zoë was incredibly reluctant, but was allowing herself to be slowly persuaded to 'be nice' to the boys.

"Let them have a look at least," said Jamil, as her pulled the sheets from her hands.

Zoë lay like a piece of meat in a display cabinet. Naked, she felt three pairs of eyes burning into her breasts, her nipples and between her legs.

"Jamil, Jamil, can I please?, can I?, go on, let me please," begged Ali as though we wanted to be allowed to go on a fairground ride.

Zoë couldn't believe it when Jamil gave them permission to use her. One by one these young boys lost their virginity to her. She had the extra humiliation of having to reach down and guide each one into her, as they inexpertly, jabbed hard, throbbing, eager young cocks at her pussy.

Zoë lay in the pool of cum already left from before, as three more loads were added to it. One after the other they climbed on top of her, entered her, fucked her poorly and came in her.

Alone in the bedroom yet again (she was of no interest once the cum had been dumped) Zoë heard two voices. They sounded angry and commanding. Jamil's father and uncle had climbed the stairs to see what was going on. They walked into the bedroom, closely followed by Jamil, who was desperately trying to appease his father.

A few short sharp words and comments passed between them, which Zoë could not understand. Jamil left the room looking chastened, and left her alone with his father and uncle. They were dressed in the long white robes, a custom that the elders still upheld.

They approached the bed and stared at her nakedness. This was the first white woman (in fact the only woman, other than their wives) that they had seen naked.

This time there was no permission asked, Zoë was not even worthy of having any say in the matter. Jamil's father looked at the pool of cum those filthy little bastards had left her in. He was not going to rape her there, in all that mess. He took Zoë by the hand, and felt resistance. He tugged harder and shot Zoë a glare that said 'Don't you dare defy me' and pulled her to her feet. He took her to the foot of the bed and motioned for her to climb on the bed, facing away from him.

Afraid, confused, and bemused at what was happening to her, Zoë knelt on the bed. She was pushed in the back forcing her down onto her face and her legs were pulled apart. Her smooth, pink, pussy lips, gaped open for him. Jamil's father grabbed her hands and put them on her own ass, he pulled her pussy open with them. He was showing her what he wanted her to do.