This story is fictional and by no means true. I do not advocate nor do I recommend any of the actions within this story. It is just something from my sick imagination. This is written for Literotica only.
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All men possess it to a degree. The darkness within wells just out of sight, always under the surface pooling in the heart and soul. For some it is so close to the surface that it comes out at the drop of a hat. Others take a long while, sometimes years before they succumb maybe once, maybe twice before remorse and guilt stop them from ever doing it again. Yet again others, once down the road, carry the stain and the darkness boils within, let out every chance that it can.
Some label it with petty labels, but it all comes down to control and power. Control and power over others can take one far into the darkness. Some desire it but never would take advantage of the opportunity once it strikes. Others leap at it with glee once it makes itself known. Again there are others who contemplate it and research it. They think about it and fantasize about it before finally enacting it; with trembling hearts and weak knees they concoct their circumstances and then enact the play. Once finished they analyze it to perfect it, while waiting with baited breath to see if they are caught. If they aren't, they carefully enact the plan again to successful fruition, never caught, drunk with power, they maintain their tenuous hold on their sanity while playing with the human flesh that now is their toys, always careful not to go over the edge, yet skirting it dangerously.
I am such a man. I realize that eventually I will get caught and will pay the price for my crimes, yet the thrill is there in full force.
My crime is that I, with out my wife's knowledge, consent or free will, rape my wife repeatedly, living out the fantasies that have evolved through my mind time and again. She knows nothing and feels everything. There is the thrill. I humiliate her without her knowledge, I expose her body shamelessly and with out her knowledge. I fuck her like a whore with out her consent and enjoy all that her body has to offer. I know that others would be repulsed by what I do, including her, but then again some would wonder what would drive one to do these things. I have an answer in a way. I will confess then you think about it yourself.
I was a normal person doing normal things. I met my wife six years ago and we began the normal courtship ritual. Things progressed well and the sex life was good with potential for being great. Then that potential never went any farther than that. I never wanted anything that was considered above and beyond. I am a normal man and things like feeling a woman up when she is getting ready for work and watching her getting dressed is the normal thing. I do have likes and dislikes. I like a woman in a dress. A woman in a dress is a nice thing. I don't like pants suits and such. Any one can wear it and I think that a woman that wears one when she goes to work doesn't feel like a woman in the suit. I have always enjoyed the look and feel of a woman's legs in hosiery. The shimmer and sheen along with the feel of it makes it something unique and totally feminine and it is an added quality that I like for a woman to attain and wear. The look of high-heeled sandals, not platforms, looks fantastic and speaks of a woman secure in her sexuality and looks. A woman who wears these things gets my attention. I didn't go for elaborate lingerie at first. The normal things like I mentioned were enough for me, but my wife just couldn't see the erotic value of these things and wouldn't oblige me. By then we were married. Bitter arguments would ensue because the sex had gone down and she only wanted sex every now and again. Erotic fantasy then began to take hold of my thoughts. In order to peruse what would become a fetish for me, I would look through the Internet, thinking that I would get my mental satisfaction this way if my physical and mental gratification could not be gotten any other way.
As I surfed the net, I became enamored with different types of stories that would cross the net at different times. Then I came across a story of drugging and rape. Fascinated I read the story and felt as if there was a way I could accomplish what I wanted, this was the way. Pouring over the story, I read of the slow seduction, the spiking of the drink, the type of drug used and the activities afterwards. That night I slept fitfully, thinking of my wife, caught up in the chains of the drugs and spread for me, helpless and waiting for me to be satisfied. The next day I researched all the drugs that could be attained both legally and illegally, just to see how easy it was. I came across one that was legal at the time and worked like a charm, memory loss, sleep, and positive body reaction with no recollection of what had happened. I then made a contact and attained what I needed. Afterwards I stopped.
I pushed myself to forget what I had done, purchasing what I had purchased and stashing what I had stashed. I did so well that I did in fact forget what I had purchased and stashed. My wife and I went through our ups and downs but I didn't use what I had at the time. I even stopped looking at the web sites and checking out the different things that I could have done. Then one day, my wife had dressed up for a little dinner that we were going to for a friend's birthday. In all fairness I need to describe my wife.
She is a strawberry blonde with hair down to her shoulders. She is not heavy or fat, actually in fairly good shape for an older woman of thirty. At five foot five, her slender frame has a 34 c cup with large nipples but small areola. Her legs are very well toned and fit, almost too muscular for her body, with firm thighs and no cellulite. She even has cute small size six feet and slender waistline. She keeps herself fit and trim. In all fairness, she also knew all my fetish needs and wants. Never once did she try to accommodate them. If naked wasn't good enough, then so be it. No heels in bed, no lingerie or hosiery or anything. She knew what I liked but only wore a thong for me once. She has a special box under the bed, it is large, and it is full of all the things that I bought for her over the last six years, shoes, hosiery, thigh highs, fishnets, thongs, and body suits. All new, never worn except the occasional thong for that special dress or pants.
This night of the party, she dressed in a conservative smock style black dress that zipped in the back. As she was getting dressed, I watched her while I was getting dressed. First when she came out of the bathroom, make up on and hair done, she dropped her robe to the floor and pulled the box out, her favorite pumps had broken a heel and she needed a good looking shoe to match her chosen dress. She pulled out a pair of black strapped sandals that she had never worn before and then cracked a joke about how at least the shoes had a function other than to get me off. I laughed with her but the darkness stirred. Then she pulled out a grayish black fine hose, designer style and put them together. Another joke, she had forgotten to go the store to by her standard black hose. She then pulled out a string thong and matching bras set. Another joke about all dressed up but not getting to reap the benefits. Not the first time, she had done a similar thing before. The darkness came to bear with quickness and my point had been reached and pushed to the beyond. I laughed and then moved around the bed. She went back to the bathroom for something and for some reason, I pulled the hose out around the crotch, and cut a small hole in it large enough for two fingers, but not noticeable if she were to just put it on, while being distracted. I then went to my shop were I work on my hobby cars and found the little box that I had hidden so long ago. I pulled out a small vial, one of many and stuck it in my pocket. I then came back into the bedroom. My wife had just gotten the thong and bra set on and was getting the hosiery ready to put on. This is a delight in itself to watch a woman putting her hosiery on, I distracted her with small talk and she never noticed the hole that I could see when she was smoothing the silken nylon up her legs. She talked to me with a smile and never noticed the hole there. The tong was so small and narrow that I could see her hairs curl around it and the beginning of her pussy lips at the bottom. Elation went through me and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. As I zipped her dress up from behind, my hands shook. We then left for the party.
Normally parties like this were an in and out affair. We would come in, pay our respects and leave at the first opportunity but this time we stayed a little while longer. My wife went around talking to her friends and I talked to mine. She would get refills and different times and I could see that she was getting a little tipsy. Soon she gave me the high sign that she was almost ready to leave. I accommodated her and gave her the last drink. For the evening. It contained the contents of the vial, which had dissolved immediately. She drank it down and five minutes later we left the party and climbed into our little sports economy car. I opened the door and watched as she slid into the seat and got comfortable. Her legs shimmered in the light of the dome as she situated herself and watched me shut the door. I climbed in the other side and started the car. I had nothing to drink all night. We could not afford a DUI.
