This all happened on a night that would remain etched into her memory for the rest of her life. It was frightening, but highly erotic. The thunder was cracking harshly as the dark sky unzipped itself, pouring merciless waters down onto the town. The power in the home was still completely functional, but not needed. The bedroom was dimly lit by candles, filling the air with the sweet, fruity smell of melting wax. Rose pedals were tracing a path from the bedroom door to the bed. There were no clothes to be found, indicating that they'd taken an erotic bath before their current activities commenced. Empty wine glasses and a near empty bottle decorated the nightstand, showing the potential of lowered inhibitions.
It was fierce. The pounding. The connection. He was in her head. His cock was unbearably pleasant; hurting specific nerve endings, positively stimulating others. That perfect combination would bring on that feeling, known all too well. It was approaching, and she longed for it to arrive, although it'd happened twice already, just minutes ago. But it only seemed to get better each time. "Ehhhhhh," she grunted, clinching her teeth and clawing his back. Her husband knew how to use what he had to bring her G-spot to its breaking point. She gave him "the look." This look was a nonverbal contract, communicated through their years of marriage. When she's had her fill of orgasms, it'd be his turn to release. It was something he enjoyed, knowing he was letting her get hers first. Then he pulled out, spewing one translucent bullet after another of his semen all over her tits and stomach. It was his second climax of the night, the first being inside her. It had to feel good; a good ending to what was a romantic occasion on a night with such nasty weather. A sudden thud broke the mood. "What the hell was that," he said, upon hearing the noise vibrate throughout the home, up to their bedroom. They heard a crash, followed by footsteps, which were soon coming up the stairs. The bedroom door gave way after a swift kick, with three men dressed in black, wearing ski masks storming the place. Two of them wielded pistols, the leader, a machete. "What do we have here? A nice little fuckfest, garnished with roses," said the leader through the mask. "Tell your bitch to put some fucking clothes on, NOW!" Without hesitating, she scrambled to clothe herself, not even waiting for her husband to tell her.
"Don't fucking move," he said to the man in bed, sternly eyeing him. "Hurry your ass up, bitch!" "What are you doing? Why are you making her get dressed? Just take whatever....."
".....SHUT UP!" interrupted one of the other masked men. She was nervous and frightened. She managed to put on a basic pair of pink panties, and was about to put on a bra.
"Fuck the bra, put it down," said the leader. She complied. "Just put that shirt on, that should be enough." She picked up a white night shirt from the drawer and pulled it over her head. The cum, still all over her upper body, acted as an adhesive, bonding parts of the shirt to her breasts and stomach. The leader of the group eyed her, licking his lips through the mouth hole of the mask. Tears began to build up in her eyes, not knowing what was going to happen next. She began to search for some pants or shorts to put on, but he walked over and stopped her. "No need to put on any more, this is enough," he said coldly. He looked over at the man. "Call the police, and it's over for her." He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her out of the room with her squealing in panic. The man got off the bed, keeping his distance as he watched how they handled his wife, semen still dripping off the tip of his organ as it swung to and fro with each step as he walked down the hallway. They shoved her through the doorway into the downpour, with her husband standing at the top of the staircase. The leader of the group was the last to cross the threshold, stopping to look back at her husband, his eyes giving a cold look, confirming the fate of his wife if he involves the authorities.
They threw her into a dark blue van parked on the curb. They urgently jumped in after her, and pulled away as fast as humanly possible, running over their mailbox. She sat on a bench against the interior wall of the van. They turned on a light. The two guys, one of which was the group's leader, stared at her. She sat there nervously, her brown messy wet hair covering part of her face. The darkness of her areolas could be seen through the white shirt. Her nipples poked through the wet, sticky fabric.
"So, what's his name?" asked the leader.
"Fuck you!" she replied in disgust. The leader, along with an accomplice, cuffed her hands to some bars that were bolted to the top of the van, using long-chained handcuffs. Then shackled her legs to the floor, leaving them spread open. Now she sits there, helpless, with her body easily accessible to anyone who lusted for it. The leader took out his machete, moving its tip near her cheek.
"Such a cute face. It could be destroyed in one subtle move of this blade. Now I know your husband's name isn't 'fuck you,' so tell me what his real name is before this machete goes to work on you." He then swatted the machete swiftly, creating a rip in her shirt right between her tits. "I'm pretty good with weapons, you see. I cut your shirt without scratching you at all, but I could do so much worse. All I want to know is your husband's name."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, now sobbing.
"Ya see, this may become a problem. You can't defy me by answering my questions with questions. Okay, let's take a different approach....." He sat beside her. She sat there, shaking, and looking at him through the corner of her eye. He caressed her face, then slowly moved his face closer and closer, giving one nibble to her earlobe. It sent a slight shiver throughout her body. She whimpered at her body's reaction. It felt so familiar; it was one of her hubby's trademark moves. He then smacked the inside of her thigh, causing her to yelp in surprise. He then proceeded to move his hand towards the spot that he wanted, the same spot that received a welcomed beating earlier from its male counterpart. He felt it. He massaged it. It felt swollen and slimy. Semen started to ooze down from her lips, coating a portion of her panties and getting on his fingers. He was excited by this discovery. He then plunged his finger into her exposed hot spot, immediately G-spotting her. She tensed as the stimulation began spreading throughout her body. Her already cold, wet arms were getting goose bumps. She struggled with the chain cuffs, hoping that with some miracle she'd free herself.
"Don't struggle, it only makes me harder," he whispered with a smirk. He tripled his fingering, now inserting three fingers. She was squirming endlessly, her ankles and wrists burning and turning red from the cuffs' pressure. "What's his name? All you have to do is tell me his name. Why be so stubborn? You don't have to protect him, you should be more worried about you." His pressure for this simple piece of information was taunting her. She was angry. The situation made her angry. Her pussy was responding to his G-spotting against her wishes. His voice was annoying her. The nerve of this man. Who did he think he was? "The name, tell me the name!" His stimulation was nearly becoming fisting. She grunted as he thrust faster, rubbing her small section of mesh which was her G-spot rather hard. It was painful, a "good hurt" as some would call it. "God dammit, what are you doing?" she yelled in despair. "What's his name!" Finally, the mesh-like substance inside her had taken enough, and was about to cause her vaginal muscles to erupt.
"STEEEEVE! STEEEEVE! His name is Steve!" she yelled as the violent orgasm sucked the breath out of her. Yelling his name caused a little saliva to leave her mouth. Her body relaxed upon the final contraction of her climax as he took out his fingers. He got up and moved away to admire the prize he'd stolen minutes earlier. She sat there, her arms bound, but dangling, with yet more juices flowing from her pussy. Her face was down, but still looking up at him, giving him an exhausted look of disgust. "Is that want you wanted you son of a bitch? To feel like you're in control by doing that to me?" she asked.
"It's not about control sweetie. It's about what pleases you. You wouldn't have cum if you didn't want it. All I really wanted was to hear you scream your husband's name, and that's what I got lady."
"You motherfucker!" she said in disgust, her voice cracking.
"You're welcome sweetie, but you don't have to thank me," he replied with a sinister smile that only he could deliver to aggravate her.
She felt the van turn. They'd left the town's most populated area and entered a suburb, going into a newly built neighborhood. They turned down a street and made a roundabout turn at the cul-de-sac, stopping at the only finished house on the block.
"We're here," said the driver.
The leader looked at the woman sternly, threatening to pull his machete. "Alright, my friend here is going to uncuff you. If you bail and make a run for it, this big knife here is going to have a late snack on your flesh. Ya got me?"
Shaking from the cold, wet t-shirt and panties, along with nervousness, she distinguished an agreeing head nod apart from her shivers. The other masked man unlocked one of the cuffs, her arm floppily dropping beside her. Then the other arm. They both picked her up and led her out the back of the van as the driver was now opening the doors. She stepped down into the wet onslaught of the storm, lightning reflecting off of her slick face. In an instant of crazed desperation, she went for it. She snatched her slippery hands from the masked men and made a dash to nowhere. She had no idea where she was running, but she was determined to get there. The three men chased, and it didn't take long at all the catch up. One of them was finally within range, and dived, tackling her to the ground, landing in a puddle. They picked her up, her feet barely off the ground, and carried her, one man on each arm, into the lone house on the block. They took her into the basement, where a similar fixture like the one in the van was constructed. Again, they took her struggling hands and cuffed them to bars that were affixed to the ceiling, and her legs to rings in the floor. She struggled in vain, yelling obscenities while the men stood there unfazed. Then, the two men vacated the room, while the leader walked over to the corner, obscenities leaving her mouth all the while. She couldn't turn to see what the leader was doing since she was chained, facing the other direction. She continued ranting for anyone to hear, then suddenly......SPAT!!
"Oww!" she cried, tears forming in her eyes. He slapped her ass with a large, flat paddle, which contained a hole in the center, just like an old school disciplinarian used way back in the day. The hole made the swat that much more painful. "Now you listen to me! Nobody can hear your screams, especially with it storming outside. You WILL do what I say, or you'll get the painful pleasure you've so longed for, in the worst way. Defy me, and you'll feel my wrath. I know your type. You long to be roughed up and punished. Look at you, crying those crocodile tears......" He moved closer, as she eyed his lips that were moving about through the mask. He inspected her face, tears running down her dirty cheeks. It was a cute face, nonetheless. Her lips trembled as he ran his hand down her cheek. He moved behind her, observing her backside, also browned from the dirty water she'd fallen into during her attempted escape. The split that separated the luscious, round cheeks of her behind was prominent through her wet, pink panties. He was curious to see it in person. He moved his hand into her panties, as she shuttered at the feel of his cold hand pulling them down. It revealed a nice, smooth ass that guaranteed a jiggle with each movement. Now it was stinging and red, with a flesh-colored circle in the middle, untouched by the hole in the paddle.
"Mmmm, nice," he moaned into her ear. "What's your name?"
She looked at him. 'The nerve of this character. He rips me out of my romantic evening at home, fondles and violates me, NOW he wants to know my name? Bastard,' she thought to herself. "Jessica," she replied hesitantly. All the while, he admired her 135 pound, 5 foot 2 inch body. It was nice. Her tits still poked through the dirty white shirt, nipples staring straight ahead. He liked her stomach. It wasn't flat; slightly pudgy. Her legs were thick and smooth. He admired a short woman with meat on her bones. He walked over to her and grabbed her erect nipple and began rolling it between his fingers. She gasped at the sensation, pulling at the chain cuffs that bound her.
