Clark didn't expect to come home on his birthday to an empty, completely dark house. The sun was in the last stages of twilight as he pulled onto the driveway, and the house was cast in total shadow. None of the outside lights were on, not a single window was illuminated.
Clark felt a pang of panic for a moment, until he remembered what day it was. Had Cheryl planned something? Was this a surprise party? It still felt a bit ominous. Plus, there weren't any extra cars on the street. Surely, they wouldn't have all parked a block away just for something like this. In fact, when he peeked in the garage window, he didn't see Cheryl's car. She'd texted saying she might be home a bit late from work, but even still, he'd thought she'd be here by now. Hopefully she wouldn't be too much later, they were supposed to go out for a steak dinner.
He went through the front door cautiously, but the house alarm beeped its warning and he had to deactivate it. So, that was good, there hadn't been a break in or anything. He clicked on the light switch. Everything stayed dark. A few more tries, and nothing. Ah, okay, the power was out. None of the other houses looked affected, though, so something must have tripped the circuit breaker. He pulled out his phone and activated the flashlight function, heading for the basement.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, however, something reached out and smacked the phone out of his hand. "Hey!" He reached for it, only to be stopped by a slim hand pressing against his chest, halting his forward motion. The phone landed light-downwards, and a figure reached down and snatched it up, covering the light.
"Hey!" he repeated, but as he straightened up to snatch the phone back, a second figure came up behind him and pressed against his back. The figure slipped one arm around his chest, pinning his left arm in the process, while the other hand went up to his throat. A slim, cool piece of metal was suddenly pressing against his jugular. He knew at once it was a knife.
Clark froze. From the feel of the body against him, he knew it was a woman, which meant he was completely powerless. The effects of the Chastity Curse made it impossible for any man to physically act against a woman if she didn't give him permission. If a woman attacked him, the only thing he could do was try to block her strikes. But unless she allowed it, he could not so much as lightly push her away. She barely had to put any strength behind her hold, but thanks to the Curse, her arms may as well have been molded steel holding him in place.
She didn't really need the knife. As it was, it felt like she was using the blunt edge. But she wanted to be sure he knew she meant business.
The first figure turned the phone in her hands and turned off the flashlight app. From the glow of the screen, he could see she was a blonde, her hair tied back in a ponytail. However, her face was obscured by a black bandana tied bandit-style around the lower half of her face, and a pair of oversized sunglasses hiding her eyes.
The phone was tossed aside, and the room was covered in almost total darkness. Only the dim glow from streetlights filtered through the large bay window's partly open blinds. The blonde came up to him, her silhouette moving with the grace of a cat, until she was within touching distance. She reached out to let her fingertips caress his cheek and trail down his chest.
"Mmmm... looks like we picked the right house," she said in a low, sultry voice.
"I'll say," said the woman behind him huskily.
Clark swallowed. "Wh-wh-who are you? Wh-what do you want?"
"Don't need to know the latter, cutie," said the blonde. She reached down and brazenly pressed her hand against his crotch. "As for what we want... well, what else would two sexy ladies be doing in a man's house, while his wife is away?"
Her hand on him was surprisingly skilled. As she massaged his member through his slacks, he felt himself growing hard. Shamefully, despite the situation he was in, his body couldn't help but react.
No. No, that wasn't quite right. It was because of this very situation that he so easily reacted. He had always fantasized about being taken and used by women, long before the Chastity Curse made such things an easy possibility. Whenever he masturbated, he had always cum the hardest fantasizing about being raped. And when making love to his wife, it drove him wild when she got aggressive with him.
But now it was actually happening! Holy shit, it was actually happening! These two women had broken into his home and were about to rape him! And because the Chastity Curse had made all men throughout the world powerless against women, there was nothing he could do!
He felt fear shoot through him. And to his shame, he could not help but also feel arousal. He didn't want to cheat on his wife! But what could he do? They had a knife to his throat, he couldn't fight them off, and the blonde, her hand was...
"Oh, goodness..." she said. "Someone's eager." She squeezed him through his pants; he was rock hard and throbbing with less than a minute of stimulation. It wasn't just her skill. It wasn't even just the shameful excitement of this situation.
"So, how long since your bitch wife let you pop, hmmm?" said the blonde. She leaned in close, pressing herself against him, pressing her abdomen against his throbbing cock, and leaning up to his ear. "How long since the little shrew bitch got you poor little rocks off? A month? Two? Three?"
Clark let out a shuddering gasp. The knife pressed more firmly against his flesh. "Tell us," the woman behind him purred.
"S-s-six weeks!" he gasped. Cheryl had spent the past month and a half building up his blue balls. Thanks to the Chastity Curse, men couldn't cum unless a woman gave them permission. In the first few weeks since the Curse, his wife had dutifully given him permission all the time. But then, as the months wore on, the kinky couple had decided to have more fun with it. Now, despite still having sex at least four or five times a week, Cheryl had started only allowing him one orgasm a week. Then one every two weeks. They'd gone on that way for a while. But recently, she'd said she wanted to go longer, and Clark, enamored at her taking control, had eagerly agreed to it.
But it seemed such games were to be his undoing. Even if this scenario hadn't been his secret, shameful turn on, he was on a total hair trigger after six weeks of multiple teasings and almost daily sex without relief!
The blonde was slowly grinding herself against his crotch, and his cock flexed. Clark made a little gasp and jerked in their grip.
"Hmm... just six weeks without, and you look like you're about to pop, just from this?" The blonde chuckled.
The other woman laughed. "What a little bitch. No wonder your wife keeps it on lock."
"Well, she won't have to worry, we're sure as hell not gunna let you," said the blonde.
"Please don't—" Clark started, but the knife dug into his neck. If the woman hadn't been using the blunt side, he would have been cut already.
"Shut up," she growled. As she kept Clark pinned in place, the blonde began removing his clothes, starting with his pants. As soon as it was freed from its cloth prison, his cock sprang up eagerly, heedless to the gravity of the situation. Pre-cum was already starting to seep out. The blonde wrapped her delicate fingers around the shaft and pulled the bandana she wore aside for a moment to lick the first bead off the tip, causing Clark to shiver with shameful pleasure.
