index


Message-ID: <31779asstr$996721801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "E.Z. Riter" <ezriter@pdq.net>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain;
	charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} rp Karen 2 (adul, submission)
Date: Wed,  1 Aug 2001 23:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in
locations in which it is legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT
read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any other use strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,
except may be posted as part of a  review or posted to free-access,
noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1999, 2001 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please!        Give me your comments!

Dear Reader: This is the story of a wife and mother who meets the man of her
dreams.  It's posted in two parts due to its size.  Thanks to Sara and Gail
for their input and other invaluable assistance. Please enjoy.  E.Z.


KAREN

Part Two

I thought of nothing else but his taking of me as I drove home to bathe and
change.  As I drove to his home, I lectured myself. You need to end this
affair, I said.  You must stop it for Polly's sake, and for George's.  I was
George's wife.  I was Polly's mother.  I couldn't be Eric's woman, too.
Could I? Could I answer the sexual call my body gave me each moment I was
with him?

By the time I parked my car in front of his house, I was eaten by turmoil
and indecision.

I fought back tears as I rang the bell.  Polly answered and greeted me
warmly.  Dinner was delicious.  My daughters were scintillating.  My husband
was buoyant from a day's victory at the golf course and the promise of
relief in the business.  Eric was the perfect host and son-in-law to be.

No one noticed the change in me.  What did you expect? the voice said.  You'
re not wearing a scarlet letter. But do they know?

At first, I was very self-conscious.  Numbness infused me. With great
effort, I successfully compartmentalized the day, letting me enjoy part of
the evening with my family.

George's golf tournament continued through Sunday.  Eric and I agreed to
meet at the plant in the morning to "continue what we started."  The others
believed what we'd started was his review of our company. Only he and I knew
what those words really meant.

He spoke but once of the relationship he insisted we have.  We were alone in
the kitchen. He cupped my mound through my dress. He squeezed, his finger
finding my opening.  "Mine," he whispered in my ear. Chills went through me.

Standing there in his kitchen, I bolstered my resolve to fight him.  I
decided to tell my family his plans, to tell them right now.  I couldn't
allow further assignations with him. But when I reentered the living room,
they were on the floor in an intimate and animated discussion.

"Oh, Eric, will you really pay for my college?" Patty was saying.

"Of course, until your dad gets back on his feet again," Eric replied
positively.  Patty threw her arms around him and hugged him warmly, her
happiness radiating from her face.

"And that'll be real soon, honey," George responded, getting his warm hug
from Patty as he did.

I couldn't confront him in front of them.  I couldn't crush their hopes and
joys even for my own protection.  As I looked at Eric with them, he appeared
to be happy and a part of the group.

I wondered what in him was driving him to do what he was doing to me.  How
could he be so sexually tyrannical with me and pleasant with them?  Whatever
it was, I must deal with it by myself.  Deal with it? Relish it. Be honest
with yourself, Karen.

That night at home, George quickly succumbed to sleep. My sleep was
intermittent.  Wild sexual dreams repeatedly awakened me in a hot sweat and
with a pounding heart. Once my hand was between my legs when I awakened.  I
cried myself back to sleep.  Each time, a troubled sleep brought dreams
again.

When the alarm aroused me, I stumbled into the bathroom dazed from lack of
sleep and hurrying not to be late. I don't remember dressing.  I was half
way to the office before I realized what I wore. Once again, I'd selected
one of my all encompassing blouse and skirt combinations.  This one was the
most revealing I owned.  Its materials were silky and clingy and tight
around me. And I was braless.  I'd never gone braless in my life.  The
weight and movement of my freed breasts was a constant reminder of the
conflict in me.

Twice I pulled off the street to cry. I told myself it's only a lack of
sleep. It's guilt.  Yesterday won't happen again I said.  But I knew it
would. He would have me again.  Only this time, there'd be no going back.
This time I'd belong to Eric Winston.

I called George from my car phone.  He was pulling into the parking lot at
the golf club.  He didn't even notice I was crying as he told me to make
sure Eric was impressed. Impressed?  Yes, Eric was impressed.  By me. By my
wanton surrender.  By my whimpering as he fucked me.  I cried I could cry no
more.

I resolved to resist Eric. Why? Who knows?  The war in me was titanic.   I
wouldn't let him take me as he had only yesterday.  I must end what he had
begun.

When I arrived at the office, Eric was sitting in his car reading the Sunday
newspaper. He hopped out and gave me a big smile.  When he leaned over to
kiss me, I turned away.  Both his arms were full so he couldn't grab me and
make me kiss him.  He lugged a suitcase and a sack of food as he followed me
to my office.  As I was making coffee for us, I heard the furnace roar to
life.  Soon, hot air was blowing into the room. I wondered why he'd turned
up the heat.

In my office, he'd moved a straight chair to the center of the floor.  In
front of it was a blue exercise mat big enough to lie down on. The mat
extended to the edge of my desk. He was sitting in my chair.  His blue eyes
locked onto me.

"Coffee's ready," I said, trying to make my voice light and happy.  I placed
his coffee on the desk in front of him and started to sit down.

"Don't sit, Karen," he said.  "Today's devoted to our pleasure. I expect
total obedience from you."

"No, Eric.  I'm ending it," I said as I sat in the chair in flagrant
disobedience to his order.

Don't listen to my words, Eric.  Please.  Listen to my body language.  Take
me. How could I think that? How could I not think it?  End my turmoil, Eric.
End it!

"Don't try to resist, Karen.  I took you yesterday.  I'll take you again
today and every day I desire."

"Eric, I'm to be your mother-in-law. I'm married to another man. This is
wrong."

"No.  It's right. I won't allow you a way out. If you disobey me, you'll be
punished."

He opened the suitcase and removed a flexible leather shaft about three feet
long. Blood crashed through my veins.  I feared his answer, but I asked.

"What is that?"

"A whip.  I'll whip you for your disobedience."

"You wouldn't?" I gasped.

"Yes, I would. I'd do it without hesitation. Would you like a
 demonstration?"

My head shook "no."

Gracefully and quickly, he moved beside me, taking my hand.  He guided me to
the mat and instructed me to kneel on it facing the chair.  The sweat broke
out between my breasts, a droplet running down my belly.  For a moment, I
considered resisting. His grip tightened on my arm. Trembling and red faced,
I knelt on the mat. My eyes teared and overflowed, silent wetness running
down my cheek.

"Spread your knees shoulder width," he ordered.

What was I to do? He'd left me no choice. I couldn't risk the loss of
everything for an act of disobedience. Now he had added the fear of swift
and painful punishment if I resisted but a moment. Slowly, I opened my
knees, making me acutely aware of my femaleness.  He's making me ready for
him, I thought.

Eric handed my coffee to me and sat in the chair I faced.  He moved it
forward until his knees, which were spread wide, were on either side of my
head.  Suddenly, my world was the small v-shaped area bound by his legs.
Acutely aware his cock at the tip of the V would soon be in me again, I
unsuccessfully struggled to look away.  I sipped my coffee and waited.
Waited for him to take me again.

The office and the coffee were hot. My blood was churning.  Perspiration
rolled down me in torrents.  My blouse was soaked. It was plastered to my
over hot and wet skin, making me more visually tantalizing than if I wore
nothing. My nipples were erect and easily seen. I didn't pull the blouse
from my skin to hide myself from him. My skirt stuck to my legs.  I adjusted
it, smoothing it over my thighs.  After I did, I realized my legs were more
visible that way.  Why hadn't I thought of that before?

I waited, the minutes numbing my senses, the tension playing with my mind.
Finally, he lifted my chin to look in his face. His countenance was hard,
his sexual need open and obvious. He sat back.  When I looked away, the
stiff tip of his whip under my chin brought my eyes to him again.
"We both know you wouldn't hurt your family.  I saw that in your face when
you left the kitchen last night.  Is that correct, Karen?"

"Yes."

"My taking of you is between us.  You and me.  We both know I'll win. We
both know I'll have you as mine."

"You can take me.  You can rape me and I won't report it.  But I'll never be
yours."

I said it with all the strength in me. Was I convincing?  Was I believable
as I knelt obediently between his legs, my own legs spread in inviting
supplication, my body hot with wanting?

"You've already mine, Karen."

Was he right?  I thought as he sipped coffee and stared at me with those
hypnotic blue eyes.  I was on the edge. - the very edge - of that great
canyon called surrender.  I was at the precipice: herded there as a sheep
herded by a sheep dog; trapped there by the box he built around me.  The
unwalled side was the precipice.

I'd go off the edge.  I had no doubt about that. He would accept nothing
less.  Would I make him push me off that edge?  Or would I jump?

All my senses were on full alert.  The color of his jeans was vivid and
bright. Their tightness around his muscular legs enthralled me.  The bulge
at the V of his legs was never out of sight or mind.  The weight of my
breasts was full and heavy. I felt them move enticingly with each breath I
took.  My spread legs created an emptiness needing to be filled.  My cheeks
were wet with my tears.  I could feel each drop of the sweat slipping down
my body.  I could smell us, both of us.  I could smell my moisture excreted
between my legs.  When, absentmindedly, I stroked my skirt taut over my
thighs, it seemed I could feel the pattern of the cloth.

I waited.  The tension increased.

"I'm going to give you a mantra, Karen.  When I say 'mantra', you'll repeat
it continuously until I say 'stop'.  You'll live by this mantra.  It'll be
the thought which governs you.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes, sir, is your proper response," he said.

"Yes, sir," I repeated.  If I had any will to resist, my voice didn't reveal
it.

"Good.  This is your mantra.  'I'm Eric's hot, willing woman."

"I'm not yours. I'm not," I whimpered.

The whip hissed through the air, slamming into the blue mat beside my leg.
It sounded like a rifle shot.  I screamed in panic, doubling over, holding
myself in fear. Eric was a patient man, a patient man with laughter in his
eyes he struggled to hide.  He'll never use that whip on you, the voice in
my head said. I know, I answered, but isn't it erotic to think he might?
Eric waited until I composed myself.  When I looked up at him, I saw the
message in his expression: Surrender.  You have no choice.

"Shall we try again?  Say your mantra, Karen."

You know he'll win, why are you fighting? The voice inside my head said.
Yes, I know it. I want him to take me. I want to surrender.  Why am I
resisting?

"Eric, please," I begged, my tear filled eyes on him.

"Say it!" he demanded.

"I'm Eric's hot, willing woman," I said.  Each syllable caught in my throat
like gravel.  I forced myself to form the words and utter them, my voice
constricted as if bound in steel. I wanted to scream this is wrong.
Instead, I repeated my mantra. I knew I would live by it.  That thought
terrified and excited me.

The tip of the whip moved into my sight. I froze, not breathing, as it
traced the outline of my nipple plainly visible through my blouse.  I jerked
in reflex at the thought of that rod striking me on such a tender spot.

"Keep saying it."

"I'm Eric's hot, willing woman."

I repeated my mantra again and again, but my eyes never left the whip
resting against my nipple. I'd said my mantra maybe twenty times, when the
tip of the whip slowly pulled back a few inches from my nipple.  It flicked
against me.  The flick of the whip on my erect and tender nipple was a
match, creating a bright and white but short flame.  It lit a fuse which
sizzled down my body to ignite the firecracker nestled between my legs. My
thighs and back tightened. My breasts were pushed toward him as my back
arched.   I shuddered. A groan escaped me.  Through my unfocused eyes, I
could see his knowing smile.

"Say it," he whispered gently as his eyes shone at me.

I said it, the words coming easier this time.  Again I said it, and again.
I repeated it until it was a natural to say those words as calling my
children's names.

Eric took my head in his two giant hands. His thumbs wiped the sweat from my
forehead.  The rhythm of my voice, my hypnotic chanting, never wavered as I
said my mantra over and over. With his thumbs, he closed my eyes. All was
dark as I continued chanting.  I felt him stand, heard the rustle of his
undressing, felt his movement to kneel behind me.

Slowly.  He did everything so excruciatingly slowly.  He moved my hair from
my neck.  I felt his lips at my nape.  Tingles shot through me. The top
button of my blouse moved. The air, warmed by the heater but so much cooler
than my skin, chilled me where my blouse was opened. Again, his lips on my
spine.  Again, tingles.

Coolness of the air. The heat of his lips, of his hands, as they released
another button.  The greatest heat was between my legs.  It was a swamp of
wetness and heat.  I felt that moisture on my thighs.

Slowly.  Another button.  Another tantalizing touch of his hands, his lips.

I don't remember leaping off the precipice, but I knew I was in the air fall
ing toward him.  I'd surrendered.

He made me wait, torturing me by the slow removal of my blouse as his lips
and hands and the very air itself teased and caressed my naked back. When he
pushed the blouse over my shoulder and it floated toward the floor, I ached
for relief, ached to have his hands on my breasts, ached to have him in me.
I felt each finger tip slide from back to front across my rib cage to close
firmly on my breasts, to feel their softness and tweak my diamond hard
nipples.  I moaned.

He whispered in my ear, "Stop and keep your eyes closed."

My heart pounded in my throat as he gently lifted me into the air.  I
extended my legs and stood.  His hands were on my skirt. The cool air rushed
over me when the skirt fell away. He slipped my panties down and pulled them
off my feet.  I was naked before him.

"Mantra," he whispered.

Smoothly, easily, without effort and with desire, I said, "I'm Eric's hot,
willing woman."

The words flowed from me.  They were true.  I was his.  I was burning with
heat.  I desperately wanted him to take me.

How I longed to see his face, see his reaction to my nakedness, to the hot
and willing body which belonged to him. But, obediently, my eyes were
closed.  He knelt behind me as I remained standing.  His touch, his lips
were hot on my skin, his hands insistent as they traversed the plains
between my legs, sliding on the lubricant my desire had excreted.  I was
ready, so very ready, yet he caressed me further.  A groan escaped my lips
as his lips traced the tendon down the back of my leg.

"Oh, God, yes!" I moaned as his two long, strong fingers plumed my depths
and a thumb found my clitoris.  The strongest orgasm I could remember
exploded in me.  I collapsed on him, softly landing in his arms.  He rolled
me on my back.

He took me quickly, my legs bent and pushed against my breasts, pounding
into me in a carnal rhythm.  The power of my explosions was beyond my
experience, even beyond my fantasies, as he brought me pleasures undreamed
of.  There on a Sunday in my office, on a blue mat slickened by our sweat,
he introduced me to the power of our sexuality.  I orgasmed until I was too
weak to raise my head.

He hadn't cum when he pulled out of me.  His strong hands moved me as he
wished.  His cock touched my lips.  Without thinking, I took him there,
tasting my own sweet juices on him. Like a child on its mother's breast, I
sucked him as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

Something very cold fell on my cooling, but still hot, body.  Startled, I
squirmed to get away.  His hand was tangled in my hair.  His cock was in my
mouth.  My head was anchored against him.  I squealed against his cock as he
ran an ice cube down my spine. He laughed when he released me. I twisted
away to look at him.  His eyes were tender, twinkling.  A broad smile
covered his face.

"Back to the land of the living?" he asked with a sweet softness in his
voice. I blushed and smiled back at him.

"Refreshments?"

He offered me a glass of juice and a donut. I ate and drank as I knelt as
his feet with my legs spread. Deliberately, his eyes moved from mine to
traverse down my body.  His eyes were like fingers.  I could feel their
touch on me, feel their caress.  My breasts tingled when they lingered
there.  I felt them tracing down my stomach. I twitched between my legs from
the heat they created.

Refreshments finished, the guided me to the position he wanted. I knelt on
all fours.  My legs were spread wantonly, but not to his satisfaction.  He
spread me wider. My breasts swung freely under me.

"Mantra," he said softly.

"I'm Eric's hot, willing woman," I answered.

His hand touched my leg.  I groaned.  After a lifetime of small, infrequent
orgasms, I'd experienced the greatest ones ever only minutes ago.  How could
it be?

I wanted more.  I wanted him to fuck me until our fucking comprised my
entire reality. This is wrong, the voice inside my head said.  Be quiet, I
told it.

His hands traced my tendons. They slipped over my skin which was again slick
with sweat.  I felt his fingers at the back of my left knee as he gently
stroked there.

"Eric, please."  My voice caught.

"Mantra," he replied.

"I'm Eric's hot, willing woman."

His fingers leisurely caressed my leg and slipped over my ass. One finger
traced down the crack until it rested on the opening. I felt it quiver as he
tested it and withdrew.  My voice continued as his hands kneaded my ass
cheeks and tantalized my stomach and legs.

"Stop," he said as his hands left my body.

"Karen, I want you to be more vocal. When we make love, you're a quiet as a
little mouse. I want to hear from you.  Share your joy, your passion. Talk.
Talk when I touch you, when I fuck you."

"Yes, Eric," I replied.

"Not only do I want to hear screams of passion from you, I want you to talk
freely about your feelings."

"Yes, Eric."

My voice was soft and sexy, making the saying of his name a caress of us
both. He heard it as I did.  He gently stroked my face. Like a kitten, I
pushed my head against his hand.

"Where do you want me to touch you?" he asked.

"Between my legs."

"That's your pussy.  Say it.  Say 'pussy'."

"Pussy."

"What do you want?"

"Stroke my pussy, Eric. Oh. Oh. Yes. Like that. No. Don't stop. Please."

"What are you?"

"I'm your hot, willing woman.  Please take me again."

My words reverberated in my head.  I'd said it voluntarily.  I said what I'd
been denying. Tears moistened my cheeks. The admission was a weight lifted
from me.  A weight of sexual denial.  I sobbed tears of joy.  Oh, god, it
felt so good! Free of the weight of denial.  Free from self-imposed
restraints on my sexuality.  Free to be his. But you're not free.  You're
George's wife, the voice said. No, I'm Eric's hot, willing woman.  I'm his,
I told the voice.

Eric pulled me into his arms.  Crying, I curled up in his lap as he
whispered sweet nothings in my ear and comforted me.  He was tender and
loving.  It felt good to be there, surrounded by him, held against the
strength of his body.  He kissed me.  Not a controlling, demanding kiss, it
was soft and gentle. His hands caressed me.

I looked up into his eyes.

"What are you? Tell me again."

"I'm yours, Eric.  I'm your hot, willing woman.  Please make love to me."

"Make love?"

He was teasing me. Yes, I wanted him to make love to me, to possess me
sweetly and tenderly. Later.  Now I wanted him to fuck me, to overpower me,
to pin me against the floor with his cock.
"Fuck me," I whispered. "Fuck me long and hard.  Fuck your woman until she
passes out."

I turned beet red and goose bumps popped out all over me. My own shyness and
modesty had always prevented me from using dirty words like fuck. Those
words weren't dirty now. They were good words, words which expressed how I
felt about a man.

Eric smiled as he said, "Get on all fours again, Karen."

As I took the position he wanted, I began to shake in eager anticipation of
what we were doing, of his commanding me, of my own willing surrender.
Wetness again oozed from between my legs.  Sweat formed on my skin.

"Talk to me," he said.  His voice was soft but firm.  Very firm. "Tell me
where my hands are, what they're doing to you, how you feel."

"Yes, Eric.  No. Don't stop."

"Stop what?"

"Eric, please."

"Talk to me."

"Stroke my breasts again."

"How?"

"Oh.  Like that. Your fingers sliding down.  Pulling my nipples. Squeezing
them."

"You like that?"

"Yes. Please."

"And this?"

"Yes."

"Be still."

"I can't be still.  Your hand.  On my leg."

"What do you want?"

"Move it.  No.  Not like that.  Higher. More. Eric, why are you torturing
me?"

"Is this torture?"

"Yes.  Oh god. Don't stop!"

"Stop what?  Tell me."

"My . . .  my pussy.  Stroke my pussy. And my breasts.  Pull my nipples. Oh,
yes."

"You like that?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"And this?  Do you want me there?"

"Yes.  There too.  I want you everywhere."

"Do you like this, Karen?"

"Yes."

"Talk. Tell me what you like."

"I like you touching me, your hands caressing my body.  All of my body. I
like you commanding me, taking me, owning me. Please, Eric, don't ever
 stop."

"Stop what?"

"Pull them.  Pull my pussy hairs.  It sends shocks through me. Oh, god,
Eric.  Fuck me! Eric, enough foreplay! I need to be fucked!"

"When I'm ready," he said.

In a flash, I spun.  Like a tigress, I sprang, knocking him on his back. He
looked startled as I straddled him. I grabbed his cock and held it where I
wanted it.

"Now!  Like this!" I snapped as I slammed my hips downward, burying him in
me.

An orgasm started in my curling toes.  I threw back my head and laughed. I
heard him grunt as I was lifted up.  His cock came out of me, leaving my
orgasm unfulfilled.

"No!" I screamed as he slammed me on my back.  His strong hands held my
crossed wrists over my head, pinning me.  I squirmed trying to find his cock
with my pussy.  I struggled to breathe, gasping loudly. My skin was on fire.
I was crying again.

"Goddamn you, Eric," I yelled in his face which was over me like an animal
over its prey. "Fuck me, you sonofabitch!  Fuck me hard! Fill me with your
cum! Make me preg . . .  "

The word caught.   Pregnant.

We were frozen in time: he over me; I pinned under him.  He looked shocked.
It'd never occurred to him I wasn't using birth control.

Why was I unprotected? Why had she tricked me? She - the woman who wanted to
be possessed by him. Why didn't I realize it? I hadn't thought of it before
that instant. It dawned on me like a light clicking on.  She wanted it.  She
wanted this powerful, masculine creature to give her his child.  She wanted
her belly bloated from him.  Hers?  My belly.  Me. Not she. Me.

Stop! You can't have another man's child! the voice is my head screamed. The
humiliation, the shame. Stop!  Do it!  You want another child.  You want
Eric's child.  What am I doing?  What?

I screamed "no, stop" and pushed with all my might to free myself.  I didn't
break his hold on me as he pinned me to the floor. I didn't budge him.  It
wasn't my decision. Not now.  It was his.
One word.  One thought.  Such power in one little thought.

Eric's intensity exploded. His face was red and wild.  His were animal's
eyes, like a lion on the scent. Roughly his hand spread the lips of my
pussy.  His cock slammed into me. He rutted like a wild beast, with small
grunts - uh, uh, uh -  each time his pubis hit mine.

He wants you to have his baby, the voice said.  Yes, I replied.

I felt the warmness again, the same warmness I felt when he bit my neck.  My
body opened to him, my legs wide and relaxed, my arms flaccid above my head.
Externally I felt a numbness.  Internally, I felt my pussy relax on each
powerful thrust to give him the deepest access to me, and tighten on each
withdrawal to keep him from leaving.

I felt like my womb was opening, like a flower in the sun - a flower who
wanted to be pollinated.

"Fuck. Me.  Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me," I chanted.

Eric growled as his face contorted.  His frantic pounding intensified.

"Hard. er.  Hard. er.  Put. your. seed. in. me."

Incoherent words spewed from me as his fingers dug into my shoulders.  He
gasped and thrust with a last mighty lunge, holding himself deep in me.  I
felt his explosion. I heard his laugh.

The muscles of my pussy spasmed in a rolling, pulling motion.  My pussy held
him in her and milked his seed from him.  She pulled his seed toward the
opening of her womb - toward her egg.  There was no blinding orgasm, only a
series of small ones: an orgasm each time my pussy milked his cock.

"So good.  So good," I mewed.

He collapsed on me. Neither of us moved except the twitching of relaxing
muscles.  He softened there, his cock plugging me to prevent the escape of
his precious liquid.  When he slipped from me, I cleaned him as I'd been
taught.  I took from me what he had left, tasting his nectar and licking my
fingers clean.

We dressed in silence.  He had not spoken since he pulled out of me that
last time. He was lost in thoughts he didn't share.  He locked the office
door and helped me to my car.

"Eric?"

He looked at me for the first time since he was in me.

"All you all right?"

"Yes.  Are you?"

"Yes.  I'm very much all right."

"Are you fertile?" he asked.

"I'm ovulating now," I answered.

I said it proudly. I stood erect with my shoulders back and breasts thrust
forward. My head was held high.  Unabashedly, I looked him in the eyes. I
was a female animal, confident of my sexuality. I relished myself, my
gender.  I was woman. I was the woman this powerful, virile man wanted, took
and made his.

His eyes were questioning, probing.  Then, his expression changed.  He
smiled and exuded masculine power and confidence.  It was not evil or cruel.
It was loving, showing the pride of a man with his woman.

"You're my woman now, Karen. You belong to me."

How can that be? the voice said.  He's engaged to Polly. You're married to
George.

"Yes, Eric.  I do."

"We're just beginning.  I'll expect much from you."

I moved against him, pressing my breasts into his chest, my arms around his
waist, my face raised toward his.  His leg was between mine. I rubbed my
pussy against his thigh.

"I'll take whatever you give.  I'll do whatever you ask," I said before I
kissed him.

No one was home when I arrived.  I took a long, hot bath. My shoulders and
hips were bruised where he'd held me.  I could see the tips of his fingers
blue in my flesh. My muscles ached from exertion. My pussy was sore, a good
soreness from the pleasure we'd shared.   My heart soared.  My over wrought
mind day dreamed of him.

I'd surrendered. I was Eric's.  His woman.  His hot, willing woman.  Anyone
could see that in me.  See it in my face, my eyes, in the marks on my body
he left when his passion took me.

What they could not yet see was the greatest evidence of my surrender.  It
was hidden deep in my body.  It would grow there until it was hidden no
more, until I blossomed as proof of my belonging to him.

Exhausted and satisfied, I crawled into bed.

You've given yourself to him, the voice said.  Yes, I answered.  You'll feel
horrible about what you've done.  Maybe, but for now I'm floating on air.
You're pregnant with his child, she said.  Yes. I am.   But what about
tomorrow?  I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Hush now.  I want to sleep.

In a moment, I was in a deep and sweet slumber.


The End

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+