It would be another normal evening at home, she knew, pacing the kitchen while the miniature snicker doodles baked to a scrumptious gold. However long her husband had been on a business trip was too long for her to handle. She was not used to going so long without his hands on her tender body, or his gaze holding her firmly against the hardness in his pants; and even more so she was having difficulty focusing at work when thoughts of getting to her knees and sucking his erect dick came to mind every few minutes.
However, she knew that he would be home tomorrow, evening at the latest, and felt wetness seep into her cotton panties just from the thought of the day she had planned for his return. The cookies still had ten minutes left, so she abandoned her pacing and set off upstairs to try on her new outfit. The package had arrived in the mail just yesterday, but she had not yet dared to open it. Now she did, and toyed with the black satin and lace between her fingers. Excitedly, she decided to try the outfit on. A black lace, easy to remove bodice that pushed her breasts together nicely and a tiny matching set of underwear that left little to the imagination, but just enough for her to set up a nice, long tease. Donning her satin gloves, she wondered how he would like having his package handled by the delicate material and smiled devilishly to herself. Eyeing her figure in the full-length mirror of her bedroom, she could not help but get a little bit excited for the day to come. Lost in her fantasies, she hardly heard the thump from her kitchen, but she did hear the loud curse that followed it.
She stood entirely still, surveying the silence. Perhaps she had mistook a cry from her cat as a curse. He often knocked things over. Still, she thought it best to put on a robe quickly before going downstairs to check on the cookies. On the first floor everywhere was dark. She tried several light switches, then realized she must have blown a fuse with all the appliances she had used to cook. Sighing and quietly scolding herself, she felt her way around the kitchen for a flashlight, but was interrupted in her task by a warm hand covering her mouth and an arm snaking around her body. She could not scream, but she kicked and fought and tried to bite her captor. His hands only held tighter, and traced the outline of the lace gently, as if examining an object. His silent analysis of her had grown threatening, and she ceased her struggle out of a fear that was heavier than that which required flight. It was animalistic, the way her touched her, pulling her robe away to expose more supple flesh. Finally he spoke, a deep, harsh whisper that cut through the silence like a whip-crack.
"So, this is how a whore dresses."
