When fiction becomes fact. Was what happened real, a fantasy, a dream, or a nightmare?
Joan is stripped naked and forced to have sex with two men and three women.
Reviewed, Revised, Rewritten, and Continued from Chapter 02:
"Hey! What the Hell are you doing? Ow! You're hurting me. Stop! Let me go. What are you doing with that rope? Don't you dare tie me. Untie me this instant," shouted Michael to big Al while staring at J. R. with hatred.
Becoming more conscious of what was happening around him, he struggled to free himself. Only making his ties tighter by struggling, he finally relaxed and gave into his helplessness. Crystal, Tiffany, and big Al overpowered him. There was nothing that he could do. He just hoped that they didn't kill him and/or his wife.
"How dare you tie me to this contraption? I'll call the police. I'll sue your ass for kidnapping me, for forced imprisoning me, for drugging me, and for raping my wife. Let me go! Let me go now!"
As if a prisoner about to be tortured on the rack, Michael was tied to a huge, heavy, and immovable, wooden, monstrosity in the shape of an X. The last thing he remembered was his host going on about the fine, vintage, French wine that he was about to serve and they were about to drink. The last thing he remembered was drinking a glass. Obviously drugged, carried down to the basement over big Al's broad shoulders, and tied to this monstrous apparatus, he wondered where his wife was.
"Joan! Joan," he called out to her! Where are you? Joan! Joannie," he said in panicked desperation! "You had better not hurt her," he said idlily threatening the owner of the house. "So, help me God, if you hurt her, I'll kill you."
Well protected, his bodyguard moved his suitcoat back to expose his handgun. With Michael helpless to defend himself, his bodyguard was big, armed, and, seemingly dangerous. All that he had was nothing but his medical training to use to defend himself. Unless J. R. suddenly had a heart attack and Michael saved his life, seemingly, that was the only thing that could save him.
In the way that Dexter immobilized his victims in his TV series by the same name, if only he had a syringe filled with a powerful sedative, he could stop an elephant. Yet, helpless to free himself, in the way that J. R. relied on his care in the hospital, he relied on the sympathy of the owner of the house to free him and release him and his wife. In the way that the owner of his dungeon was helpless to get out of his bed in the hospital, Michael was unable to get out of his chair. Doomed, he was at his mercy.
As if Joan was part of their hosts sexually, perverse show, the curtain over the stage slowly parted open. Obviously, for them to have a stage with a curtain, they had done this violently sexual, sort of thing to other couples before. He felt so stupid falling victim to their despicable, demonic trap.
He wished they had never accepted their invitation to dine with them at their magnificent mansion. If this was what their invitation was about, having forced sex with them, he just hoped they weren't going to hurt them or kill them. This was a big and secluded property with plenty of places to bury their bodies. J. R. could easily have big Al dispose of them somewhere on the grounds. Missing forever, no one would ever find them.
Unable to help himself or his wife, now he understood what it felt like to be helplessly dependent on someone else. Now, he understood what J. R. and his other patients must have felt while dependent upon his medical care and his, sometimes, rushed and impatient bedside manner. Still that was no excuse for this diabolical payback. With him always having other patients to care for, he was only trying to help him to get better. Can't he see that?
Wishing that he had never accepted their invitation, he now knew that it was too good to be true. For him, a nothing and a nobody to rub elbows with a billionaire and his wife, who was he kidding? He should have known that they had a hidden agenda to get them there under false pretenses. Who knew their false pretenses was about sex, domination, and control? He should have known that they were up to something diabolical. Convolutedly, instead of thanking Michael for his medical care, clearly, they wanted to punish him for making J. R. feel helpless.
# # #
Then, suddenly, from somewhere offstage, glad that she was alive and safe, his wife appeared, albeit without her dress, her slip, her garter belt, her stockings, and her shoes. Dressed only in her sexually revealing, low-cut bra and French cut, cream-colored panties, she was escorted by two tall, sexy and shapely, beautiful women, dressed all in black leather. His wife was tall, 5'7" in her stocking feet but these two Amazon women were well over six-feet tall and even taller with their high-heeled, black, leather boots.
"Did they hurt you? Did they force themselves on you?"
Admittedly, a twinge of sexual excitement passed over him when he saw Joan dressed only in her panties and bra. She stood before J. R. and big Al practically naked. Another twinge of sexual excitement hardened his cock when he asked his wife if these two Dominatrices forced themselves on her. Even though he feared for his life, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that his wife had forced, lesbian sex with these two, beautiful women. Unable to help himself from thinking it, he wished he was there to see it.
"Joan, tell me what happened," said Michael. "This is all my fault. Don't worry. Don't be embarrassed. Whatever happened and whatever you were forced to do, we'll get through this."
Obviously, still groggy, he didn't possess all of his senses. With her not drugged and clearly, feeling guilty for doing whatever she had already, sexually done to survive, she hung her head, seemingly in shamed embarrassment without answering him. As if he was part of the movie, Eyes Wide Shut with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, their form of violently, perverse entertainment, no doubt, nothing but a sexy game to them, this couple did this all the time. Only, assuring himself of getting even against their evil deeds, these wretched individuals picked on the wrong couple to sexually use and abuse.
Once free, after beating J. R., he'd report him to the police. Only, after seeing big Al, he'd never get past his bodyguard. Besides, obviously from old money and superrich, he could hire the best, law firm to allow him the best legal defense team that would enable him to get away with murder. Moreover, the police would never believe that J. R. and his wife, Brigitte, would have anything to do with them. With him still tied to this tortuous structure, just as he was helpless to do anything now, sadly and assuredly so, he'd be helpless to do anything later.
Besides, their mistake, with him getting the last laugh, they picked on the wrong woman. A morally modest, sexually backward, and religious woman, his wife would never abide by them having forced sex with her. Unless she had one too many glasses of wine and was horny, she seldom gave him a blowjob. Even then, whenever she blew him, she never allowed him to cum in her mouth. She only allowed him to cum across her naked breasts. If they're thinking that she'd suck their cocks, allow them to cum in her mouth and swallow their cum, she'd never blow them.
Other than her enjoying wearing a garter belt with stockings, a low-cut bra, and French cut panties all for his benefit, she was the closest woman to being a virginal nun. Unlike her to be so immorally immodest, not covering her nakedness with her arms or her forearms, he couldn't believe she was standing before J. R. and his bodyguard in just her sexy and sheerly revealing underwear. Clearly, he could see her symmetrical areolas, her big, erect nipples through her bra, and her trimmed, patch of dark, brown pubic hair through her panties.
Michael had an erection watching J. R. and big Al stare at all that they could see of Joan through her bra and panties. He was surprised, shocked, actually, that they had removed her dress without her fighting them and screaming. Perhaps, they had drugged her, too. If ever they get out of this, he'll be masturbating over two women stripping his wife nearly naked and two men seeing all that they shouldn't see of her beautiful body.
"Joan. Where's your dress? Where's your clothes?" He turned his head to look at his hosts. "How dare you undress my wife? How dare you embarrass and humiliate her? How dare you scar her for life? You'll pay for this," he said with red faced anger. Only, he was just as sexually excited that everyone was seeing her in her bra and panties as he was angry. "I'll fix you," he yelled. "I'll fix you!"
Only with him tied to this thing, he couldn't fix anyone. Obviously, a continuation of their entertainment, perhaps, having heard such meaningless threats from others before, J. R., Brigitte, big Al, and the two Dominatrices Madam Crystal and Madam Tiffany laughed. With him still helplessly tied to this massive, wooden structure, unable to free himself, there was nothing that he could do. He was as helpless to save his wife as he was helpless to save himself.
Chapter 03:
A very beautiful woman who resembled Stephanie Ruhle from Velshi and Ruhle on MSNBC, when Joan dressed for this evening, she wore silk stockings, garter belt, and a sexy bra and panties beneath a full slip. Making her feel more like a desirable woman, she enjoyed dressing sexy when going out for the evening and for their sexual activities later that night. Only, her sexual activities were meant for him, only for him, and for no one else. Something that she'd never do, cheat on Michael, she could never imagine having sex with anyone other than with her husband.
