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Message-ID: <36108asstr$1018872603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: itsbliss@centralpets.com (B. Devlin)
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2002 19:43:31 NZST
Subject: {ASSM} Cyndi Gets hers (M/F, deceit, humil)
Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2002 08:10:03 -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

This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of a sexually explicit
nature and coarse language. If these things offend you, or you are
below the legal age to view material of this type, please stop reading
now. 

Apart from ASSM archives, the author's permission should be sought
before reproducing this work. Generally, permission will be given to
non-profit sites, providing full attribution is maintained.

If you enjoy the story, please let me know, if you don't enjoy it,
feel free to let me know that too, although flames will be ignored.

*****************************

CYNDI GETS HERS (M/F, deceit, humil) (C)2001, B. Devlin

Walter Goddard wanted Cyndi-Mae Jackson the first time he saw her in
Dixie's Diner, which was hardly surprising.  At just eighteen, she was
fresh as a daisy, her blonde-hair tied back in a pony tail, her face,
pretty as a china doll, with huge pansy-blue eyes and a soft pouty
little rosebud mouth.  All that, perched on the body of a sex goddess
- long, long slim legs, tight buns, a taut flat belly and an
incredible pair of tits that looked like they'd been added to the slim
frame by a God with a taste for porn - full, heavy, and pressing hard
against the white uniform T-shirt she wore as if the perky nipples
were trying to drill an escape route through the cotton.

"I'm Cyndi, and I'll be your server today," she told him, "What can I
get you?"

"Coffee, pie, and your number." It was a lame line, but it was out
before he could stop himself.

She laughed, as if she'd never heard it before. "You're new round
here, aren't you?" she asked.

He'd nodded, and told her that he was a lawyer, newly qualified.  He
hadn't been able to resist bragging a little, about how he'd been
headhunted, the wonderful deal Maybury and Sloane had offered him to
hire him.  He'd  been too intent on the glorious boobs to see the
cash-register ching in her eyes.

She'd brought him the coffee and the pie, and told him that she didn't
have a phone, but she got off work at ten, and that he could walk her
home if he liked.

"Home" had turned out to be a trailer park on the edge of town, and
she'd blushed prettily and explained that her daddy had run out on her
mamma when she was tiny - mamma did all she could, but this was the
best she could afford.

Walter had been understanding and a little elated - after all, what he
wanted more than anything was to get inside this little girl's
panties, and he had the vague feeling that might be easier when she
was from a neighbourhood like this than if she'd been from one of the
leafy middle-class suburbs.

He was right.  It was only  a couple of days later that he laid her on
the grass in a private clearing in the woods, although as he did, he
was stunned to hear her say,  "Be gentle with me, Walter, I've
never..."

He'd held her close for a moment or two, and asked if she was sure.
She'd nodded, blushing and whispered, "I feel so hot ... I've never
felt like this.... I want you to be THE ONE...."

Walter had never, either - never fucked a virgin, that is -- so it
didn't occur to him that she might be lying. She was certainly very
tight around his cock as it eased it into her, and why should he have
imagined that might be muscle control? To be sure, "Oh, that hurts...
gently darling," had soon changed to "oh my, that's nice..." and  the
tightness had eased within the first few thrusts, but when she arched
against him and dug her fingers into his shoulders, crying "Oh God, I
never imagined it could feel this good! Oh, Walter!" the only thought
that had run through his mind was that he must be one hell of a lover.
He'd felt like a king when that supposedly virgin cunt rippled along
him in climax, and he'd come harder and faster than ever before.

A little later, when he looked down into her eyes, they seemed to be
flooded with tears, and she whispered, "I'm so glad you were my first,
baby, I was so scared it would be awful but..." a blush suffused her
face, "... it was wonderful.  Can we do it again, please?" And her
voice was so innocent and childlike, her body so lush and beautiful
that he tumbled into love with her, right there and then, though
marriage had never been on his mind.

But Cyndi knew what she wanted,  was a consummate actress, and her
campaign was carried out with a military precision. That Sunday, they
fucked and fucked and fucked, until the sun went down, leaving him
gasping and addicted, but after that, she said they would have to meet
at home in the afternoon - the woods took too long to get to, and
she'd be missed.  So, he'd come to the trailer, and there, they would
leave the TV playing loudly, while she straddled him in her narrow
bed, and rocked her cunt on his cock almost imperceptibly - so that
the trailer didn't move and give them away, she said.  It was languid
sex, almost tantric, and it had, she said, to be completely silent. He
found it unbelievably erotic, and his climaxes almost blew his head
off .

One afternoon, barely a fortnight after that first wild afternoon's
coupling, she was rocking, and he was happily sucking on one of those
wonderful breasts, when she stopped. He made a childish sound of
protest around the nipple, but she seemed not to hear him, as she
wistfully said "I wish we could really let go" (Rock. Stop) "I wish we
had somewhere where I could be as fast and as noisy as I wanted"
(Rock.Stop) 

"There's always my place," he told her, lifting his hips and trying to
move against her, to get the lost friction and rhythm going again.

"I couldn't', she said, "if people saw me coming to your apartment,
they'd know I was fucking you.  Coming from a trailer park, they
expect that. (Rock.Stop) They'd call me a whore, say I was just like
all the other trailer trash." He was barely listening, but he felt hot
tears falling on his chest.  "I just want us to be like other
couples," she whimpered.

Guilt and frustration gripped him, and he knew that to get rid of both
feelings, he'd have to make her happy again. Once she was happy, she'd
get her mind back on the issue in hand and give his cock the release
it was crying out for.

"Move in."  [[Do anything, but let me come, I have to come]]

"Mamma would never let me, not unless I was married." (Rock.Rock.Stop)
"Oh Walter, I can't go on like this.  I want you so badly, but this
(rock) is torture (rock) when I want to give you EVERYTHING, and show
you how much I love you. (Rock.Stop)"

"Then marry me." [[but please, please don't stop again - I'm going to
die if you stop again before I've shot my load.]]

She cried "Oh WALTER! (Rock) Darling! (Rock) "Oh baby! You've made me
so happy! Yes!" (Rock, rock, rock, ROCK-ROCK-ROCK) "Yes, yes, YEEEES!"
Both silence and discretion were  forgotten in her success.  

"CHRIST!" he yelled as his orgasm wracked him, and the whole park must
have heard, but she told him it didn't matter, not now they were
engaged, and an hour later, they were telling her mamma, (a big,
hard-looking woman who he'd kept at arms length ever since by the
monthly application of a large check)  how they were going to be
married, as soon as possible. He stayed with her that night, and every
night until the wedding and was rewarded for his commitment with night
after night of sexual athletics that left him sated, exhausted and far
too focused on his body to think about what he'd done once, let alone
think twice.

And so, three weeks later,  they were married. That was a little more
than two years ago.

At first, everything was great. The sex was terrific, and if Cyndi was
a poor housekeeper, all he had to do was keep on the maid. She
couldn't cook either, but there were plenty of stores selling
ready-made food, and restaurants by the dozen, so they didn't go
hungry.

Yes, she opened accounts at all the best department stores, and she
made a large hole in his salary buying clothes,  but he told himself
that she'd never owned pretty things and deserved them.  For the first
couple of months, he smiled indulgently while she went mad, buying,
buying and buying some more.

Of course, that had to stop, eventually - even a lawyer's salary isn't
limitless, after all. The first sour note was struck when he
questioned whether she REALLY needed another pair of shoes to add to
the forty in her closet.

She called him mean, accused him of not loving her.  She refused sex,
wouldn't let him touch her, kiss her, even put his arms around her
until he coaxed her with promises never to deny her what she wanted.

Soon, he found himself working longer hours to cover her costs, and
when he got home she would pester him to take her out to show off her
purchases.  Refusal would inevitably result in cessation of marital
rights, acceptance would earn him a climax, but no more - any attempt
to spice up their love-life - even a deferential request for a
blow-job -- would be met with a blank "I'm your wife, not your whore".

There was only one game she like to play.  Cyndi had a thing for being
tied up and "raped"  She liked to be fastened, and have the clothes
torn off her - she said it made her hot to feel helpless and innocent,
to be unable to stop him doing anything to her that he wanted. It
wasn't Walter's preferred kink, since it left her almost immobile, and
the clothes he was ruining had usually been bought for the occasion,
expensively; however, it made a change, and it meant that once in a
while he could "force" her to suck his cock. So, every so often,
they'd play games where he would tie her, strip her, and tease her
almost to orgasm with a vibrator, while she pretended to be first
reluctant, then willing, then eager, begging him in the end to fuck
her.  

He wondered how he'd only just noticed how familiar that performance
was.

Although he wasn't happy, he hadn't ever doubted her until a new
paralegal had started work for the firm, six months after the wedding.
Joe Evans was a local boy, fat and genial, and Walter had got along
with him immediately.  He brought him home for a beer one evening, and
introduced him to Cyndi, only to find that they knew each other.  He
wasn't much surprised at that, but he WAS surprised at Cyndi's
antagonism towards Joe.

"I just don't like him," she said flatly, when Joe left that evening,
"I never have.  He's so fat and GROSS. Don't bring him again Walter."

The following day, Walter overheard Joe say to one of the typists, "I
see Cyndi-Mae Jackson went an' caught her rich boy in the end.  You
have to give her credit,  after Albert Cross an' Rick Yardley, anyone
else would have given up trying. A pity Walter fell for it, though,
he's a nice guy."

Walter had left, silently, but that evening, over a beer,  he'd
demanded an explanation from the mortified Joe.  The fat man had
shrugged.

"Oh, Jeezus, I'm sorry Walter, I didn' mean you to hear that.  It was
just a buncha sour grapes, I guess.  I wanted to date Cyndi-Mae, way
back when, but she turned me down flat - she always had her eyes on
something better than me. I don't blame her for being ambitious -- for
saving herself for guys rich enough to give her what she wanted -
she's one sexy little girl, and deserves what she can get."

"What do you mean, 'guys'?  Cyndi was a virgin when we met."

"Oh?" the tone sounded cynical, but seeing Walter's face darken, Joe
shrugged again. "Oh right, sure, well you'd be the one who knew.  She
dated a couple of the wealthier  guys in town for a long while, an' I
guess I just kind of assumed that things went further than just
datin'.  There was some serious talk of marriage with Rick Yardley,
but that don't mean a thing, I guess." He wasn't convincing, but
Walter let himself be convinced anyway.

When he asked Cyndi, her lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes
and slipped down her cheeks. "I loved Ricky," she said, plaintively,
"but a girl from a trailer park wasn't good enough for him to marry,
so I left him." Her pansy-blue eyes looked meltingly up at him.  "he
wanted me, but I wouldn't, not without a promise - I was always able
to say no, till I met you, Walter.  Nobody ever made me feel like you
do. I love you so much."

"I love you too," he told her. "But I want to know more about you -
tell me about Rick and about Albert..."

She looked into his face, and said "I don't want to talk about them, I
want to talk about us. You're out so much, I barely see you.  I get so
lonely here alone, Walter, and the other wives look down on me..."

"What do you wan't me to do, sweetheart? I don't want you to be
unhappy."

"I want you to give me a baby Walter,. I want us to start a family."

His heart thumped. Nothing she said could have delighted him more, or
more surely driven any and all questions from his mind. He'd mentioned
the idea before, but she had seemed at best, lukewarm.

 "Really?" he asked, "you really want a baby?"

She nodded. 

"Why not start trying, right now?" he said.

"Why not?" she blushed, and then said, almost shyly,  "you won't need
your condoms tonight."

It was the first time that Walter had ever fucked naked, and the
feeling was beyond anything he'd imagined.  Her juices were scalding
hot, her muscles tight on him, and as he felt his cum explode
unhampered from his cock, he felt like the king of the world.
Everything seemed right again. His beautiful wife, who he loved more
than anything,  wanted a family, just the way he did. The next day, he
bought her home a diamond necklace.

"We're trying for a baby," he told everyone.

The next few months seemed like heaven to him, but six months later,
Cyndi was still not pregnant.  A test showed everything working as it
should, but her belly stayed stubbornly flat. Every month, she seemed
inconsolable. He tried to cheer her up with gifts, ever more
extravagant, but nothing seemed to work.  He increased the credit
limit on the expense accounts, and finally enlisted the aid of his
colleagues' wives explaining the situation, telling them that Cyndi
badly needed friends right now. He'd have done anything to end her
unhappiness.

He had to do some fast talking to get the women to accept the girl
from the trailer park, but he managed it, and soon Cyndi was enjoying
days at the golf-club, and lunches with the town's elite, driving
around in the little BMW he bought her. It  seemed to cheer her, so he
encouraged it.  

They stopped talking about the baby so much, and began to play their
bondage games again, more and more often. He hoped with the pressure
off, she would prove more fertile, and in the meantime they had a
great sex-life. Still she didn't get pregnant.

Her social life blossomed, and often she didn't get home till he was
in bed.  Then, she was tired and fell straight to sleep. It seemed
they only made love if he begged, and only then if she was tied and
teased - Walter began to wonder cynically if the fantasy appealed to
her most because that tied up she didn't actually have to do anything
more than lie with her legs and mouth open, and let him all the work.
Because she was happy, spending his money and her time, he bit back
his complaints, but she seemed to have forgotten about the baby
altogether. 

Now, it was Walter who was desperate for a baby, to keep her at home,
to cap her spending and to bring them back together and revive their
love.

"Should you see the doctor again?" he asked tentatively, as he undid
the scarves that bound her to the bed and cuddled up to her, on one of
the rare occasions she permitted him to fuck her.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" she snapped.  "If you're so
concerned, YOU see the doctor."

He would have done.  He made the appointment.  Then, he'd opened that
letter addressed to "Mrs Walter Goddard", by accident, his eyes
failing to register the "Mrs."

It was headed with the name of a Health Center he'd never heard of, on
the other side of town, near her old home. It reminded her that her
five yearly check of her IUD was due.

Her IUD?  A mistake was his first thought, but the letter was
addressed "Dear Cyndi-Mae" He was forced to believe it.  His wife was
practicing birth control, while telling him she was trying to get
pregnant.  What's more, she'd been practicing birth control three
years before they met, and however innocent he might be, he knew that
nobody implanted IUDs in virgins. He had never felt so betrayed in his
life.  Everything he'd believed about her was a lie.

It only took him four hours to piece together the extent of her
deceit.  He started by phoning the two men Joe had mentioned.  Albert
Cross turned out to be a Harvard boy, and the son of a banker, and her
was only too happy to tell him how he'd screwed Cyndi at her fifteenth
birthday party, and every day throughout the summer vacation, and how
later she had come to him, and told him she was pregnant, and that he
must marry her.   "I couldn't do that," he said, "my mother would have
had a heart attack, but I sold my car, and gave her five thousand to
pay for the abortion. I told my parents I crashed it." 

"She had an abortion?"

"She said so," Albert replied, "but no clinic in town has a record of
it.  Frankly, I don't care, one way or another.  It was worth the cash
to be rid of her."

Rick Yardley, was a self-made, foul-mouthed businessman, all of forty
and it seemed, he had met Cyndi when she came with the caterers to
serve drinks at a big party he was throwing. He'd seduced her then and
there, laying her on the top of the grand piano in the ballroom.  "She
told me she was a virgin, too, pal, and I fell for it, just like you
did, right up to the point I met Bert Cross' father at the gym. Don't
feel bad at being suckered, she can act like a pro.  And screw like
one, too."    He'd had bought an apartment, he said, five minutes from
his office, and given the sixteen-year-old  a key, and a large
allowance,  so that he could call in for a blow-job on his way to work
and pop over at lunchtime to give his cock a work-out, before spending
the evening "Fucking like a bunny." 

"She was the lay I ever had," he told Walter, "her cunt muscles could
have milked a dairy herd dry, and her ass was the sweetest, tightest
fit, but she wanted more than I was prepared to give - clothes,
jewellery, and even marriage - as if I'd tack my name onto a
trailer-trash slut like that."

A call to Joe confirmed all he'd been told, and filled in some extra
details.  Cyndi-Mae (as it seemed everyone but Walter called her) had
only two criteria for choosing where to distribute her favours - the
recipient must be rich, and single. Everyone who lived on her side of
the tracks knew it, but she never fished in her home waters.   Besides
Albert and Rick, she'd played the ruined virgin for a number of
businessmen passing through town, and if she hadn't netted a husband
out of it, before Walter got landed, she'd reeled in a fair amount of
money.  Joe had known her all his life, and had once believed her to
be "just misunderstood".  His tone was rueful, as he added "And, of
course, I got a hard-on every time I looked at her.  Still do, to be
honest."  He'd proposed to her, after Albert, but she wasted no
kindness in refusing him.  "You couldn't afford me in a million years,
lardass," were her words, apparently.

Walter felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.  He'd been taken for a
sucker all along the line, and she'd bled him worse than either of the
others - and given him less. Her talk of a baby had been a smokescreen
first, and a stick to beat him with later.  She must despise him,
completely, he thought, and be sure he'd never find out.

When she got home, he'd beat her, then fuck her, then beat her again,
till she screamed for mercy... but no.  He found that he didn't want
to fuck her.  He didn't even want to beat her. He never wanted to
touch her again.  All he wanted was revenge.

He planned carefully. When she returned that night, he smiled, and
said he'd made his doctors appointment. She nodded, showing no
interest, until he said, "I'm feeling really hopeful, sweetheart. I
haven't felt this good in months.  Why don't we do something
-extravagant -- tomorrow?"

"Extravagant?"  her eyes lit.

"I thought that you could go out and treat yourself - buy something
really special, beautiful, but something  that you only want to wear
once."

 He can see interest and excitement as she nodded, eagerly.

"Everything - underwear, dress, shoes, jewellery.  Something fit for a
movie star. Because that's what I'm going to make you."

"You're going to make me a movie star? I don't understand." 

"I'm going to do some buying of my own - a video camera.  I'll book
the best room at the Plaza, and set everything up.  Then we can eat in
the restaurant, so you can show off your new outfit, and then go
upstairs and....play... for the camera. How does that sound?"

 She gave a little giggle.  "Will we be making a porno, Walter?"

He forced a grin to his face. "I hope so, sweetheart - if you want
to."

"I sounds a lovely idea - but very expensive.  You don't usually like
spending that much money."

"Hey, a movie needs a budget. It'll be an experience for us to
remember forever, and we'll have the tapes to remind up."

She came around to kiss him, but he put up a hand, hiding his
revulsion.  "Save it all for tomorrow, Cyndi. Lets make it ...
unique."

As she laughed delightedly, he wondered if he was that good an actor,
or if she was just blinded by the idea of spending money without
restraint.  Whichever, she obviously had no suspicions, even when he
said he had to work, and locked himself in his office for the rest of
the night, sleeping on the couch there.

The following morning, he made three calls.

The first booked a table, and the honeymoon suite at the Plaza. He
booked the suite until Monday.

The second hired two video cameras, lights, twenty four-hour tapes,
and  number of little extras.

The last was to Joe. This one was very long, and very detailed. Joe
laughed for several minutes after he hung up.

At seven, he checked that the cameras were in place - one next to the
door, and one six feet from the foot of the bed, and at eight he was
waiting, in the restaurant when Cyndi joined him.

She'd taken his instructions to heart, and she was breathtaking. Every
male eye was fixed on her as she walked across the room behind the
waiter. Her blonde hair was piled on her head in an elegant roll, and
diamonds sparked at  her ears and on her wrists.  She wore a
sleeveless dress of scarlet, with a high neck. The bodice was tight,
moulding like a second skin to the firm swell of her breasts, and
between them, a triangular cut-out revealed wide expanse of
golden-tanned cleavage. From the waist, the skirt fell in flowing,
diaphanous wave to mid calf, and on her feet, she wore red sandals
whose spike heels must have been five inches high. Walter estimated
coldly that she was probably wearing a thousand dollars in cloth, and
twice that, at least, in jewellery. He could feel the looks of envy
directed at him as she joined him. 

He had already ordered the food, and it arrived, with chilled
champagne, within minutes. She gave a delighted giggle as oysters were
followed with chicken served with truffles and asparagus, and then a
bowl brimming with raspberries and strawberries, smothered in cream.
"One aphrodisiac after another," she commented.

"Of course," he replied, "I wouldn't want to take chances tonight."

Coffee came with chocolates of course, and he drained his quickly,
letting his eagerness show.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she said, her voice breathy.  She was obviously riding the
high of her life, and he thought she would have run to the elevator,
if those heels had let her.

She gasped as he opened the door to the honeymoon suite and she saw
the lights ringing the bed, which was draped in black satin..  "My
God," she said, you've really gone to town!"

"I don't want to miss anything, tonight," he replied as he followed
her toward the bedroom, pushing the door to, behind him, but not
closing it.  He noticed, with satisfaction that the deep pile of the
carpet deadened any sound of footsteps - perfect. "not a single
expression, not a single sound."

He switched on the cameras and the tape began to whirr.

"So, sweetheart," he asked her, turning the camera on her face, "are
you ready to make your film debut?  Are you ready to play?"

 "So ready..." she answered. "Oh, baby, I can hardly wait." Her lips
were parted, and desire was written all over her face.

"Oh Cyndi-Mae," he thought, "you have no idea what you're saying." And
he grinned at her.

Her scream when he caught her wrist was clearly fake, but that was
fine.  Just now, he wanted it to be clear this was all a game. He
pushed her toward the bed, into shot of the camera, making sure to
stay out of its line himself, apart from his hands.

'Who are you? What are you doing?" she asked, just as she always did,
and he replied, just as always, as he looped a red silk scarf around
her wrists, and pulled it tight, 

"You'll find out."

They had a script that went along with this game, with minor
variations, and he planned to stick with it for as long as possible.
He wanted his revenge, when it came, to be shocking, and complete. But
there was one difference that was essential.  For the first time ever,
he blindfolded her, tying a strip of black velvet tightly across her
eyes.

"W.. why?" she stuttered.

 "I've got lots of surprises for you," he told her grimly, "I wouldn't
want to spoil them" he kept his voice low, so that the words could be
heard, but his accent was indistinct.

She giggled, then apologised, crying out enthusiastically when he
pushed her roughly, so she fell face down onto the bed. Her struggles
seemed more exaggerated and less effective than he'd ever known them,
as she played to the camera, and soon she was tied, tightly, hand and
foot to the midnight covered bed, a study in red and gold on black.
The scarves at her wrists were fixed to the bed-head, but the ones at
her ankles were looped around the legs of the bed,  because he'd asked
to have the foot removed, thus ensuring that her legs were pulled wide
open.

He had kept low, as he worked, ensuring that the back of his dark head
and his hands and arms were the only thing that the camera caught.

"You bastard!" she hammed, "Let me go!" 

Walter grinned, as he saw a bulky figure walk, with exaggerated care,
through the unlocked door, to stand silently beside him, so that his
back was framed at the edge of the shot.

The grin widened, as  Joe held up a  pair of scissors, and stepped
forward to cut the red dress from Cyndi's  body, while she lay,
oblivious that she and Walther were not alone.  As the ruined fabric
fell apart,  Walter didn't feel a pang for the wasted money, not this
time.

She screeched, in simulated terror, as Joe stood back and looked
admiringly at the underwear she'd bought, a red, strapless corset,
laced up the front from top to bottom, and with a matching g-string.
Walter almost laughed out loud at  Joe's low whistle of appreciation
but he put a finger to his lips and said,

"Oh yes, that's lovely." He still spoke quietly, because he knew that
the  register of Joe's voice was almost identical to his. Only the
hog-calling accent identified Joe, and if he, Walter, kept his voice
quiet, nobody watching the tape would realise that there were two
different voices. 

As Joe snipped the laces freeing  her gorgeous tits, Cyndi wriggled,
and they bounced impressively, the rose areola  the size of a silver
dollar around the long taut nipples which pointed to the ceiling.  He
marvelled at Joe's control in remaining quiet - few men would be able
to achieve it when faced with a pair like that for the first time,
especially when they were jiggling like they had a life of their own,
and the tips were sitting up and begging to be sucked. 

Walter saw the dark stain spreading on the crotch of the g-string, and
noted, ironically, that either the unfamiliar surroundings or the idea
of the camera on her was stimulating his wife much more than normal,
even as it robbed her of her usual acting skill.  Both effects were
unanticipated bonuses - however she reacted to what was to come, the
evident insincerity of her protests now would make her look, on film,
like an entirely knowing and willing participant. 

"No," she whispered as Joe placed the scissors on the string of the
panties, in a voice that said "yes."

Two more snips and she was naked, and there was no question about the
fact that she was a natural blonde. The tidy strip of golden curls
that framed the slick, pouty lips of her cunt was just a shade or two
darker than her tan.

"Are you going to rape me, you animal?" she declaimed, dramatically.

"Only if you beg me,"  Walter whispered with the script.

"You revolt me!" But the dribble of juice that slipped from her pussy
and dripped onto the sheets made a liar of her.

Joe walked out of shot, back to Walter, and for a full minute, the men
let the camera feast on the naked body, writhing against its bonds,
on the glistening, open cunt and the breasts bobbing and swaying. Then
with a smile, Walter handed Joe a big, black plastic vibrator, and the
fat man turned it on as he walked back in front of the camera.

"Oh God, oh no, please don't!" Cyndi was getting into her stride now,
and she sounded more realistic, but that hardly mattered - the game
was established. She jerked as Joe touched the tip of the dildo to her
labia and the buzz made them tremble.

She whimpered as he ran it up and down her wet slit, slowly turning it
to coat the tip with the juices that bubbled from her, then lifted it
from her lower lips to her upper ones, leaving a trail of cunt juice
on her mouth.

Cyndi simulated horror, turning her head this way and that, as if to
get away from the buzzing at her mouth, but Walter knew that this was
one of her favourite parts, that she wouldn't be able to resist
licking those defiled lips. He moved to the camera beside him and
touched the zoom so that the pink tongue filled the shot when it
inevitably slid from her mouth to savour her taste.

Joe had already replaced the vibrator at Cyndi's cunt and now he was
sliding the first inch in and out of her, carefully following the
instructions that Walter had given him earlier. 

"Oh God," she moaned, "oh please God, no, stop, please, it's...." 

Joe slid the black plastic further in ...

"It's ..."

And further.. 

"It's Gooooooood...." She gasped, just as the script demanded

And then he slid it out again, until just the tip was inside her
buzzing insistently. He rested it on the bed, so that it stayed there,
teasing without satisfying, and walked to kneel at her left, dropping
his head to slide his tongue over and around one perfect, rock-hard
nipple.

Walter knew he should feel jealousy, or excitement, or something,
watching another man take enjoy his wife, but all he felt was
satisfaction that she hadn't yet realised the substitution and
anticipation of the moment when she finally did.  If his plan worked,
it would be exquisite.

Joe was suckling in earnest now, tongue and teeth both working the
breast, the tips of his fingers running up and down the inside of
Cyndi's long, lean thighs, pausing, now and then to twist the buzzing
column of plastic.

She was arching, from the bed, first lifting her back, as if to push
more of her breast into the sucking mouth, then her hips, as she
clenched the tight muscles of  her cunt around the dildo.  And she was
moaning and babbling...

"Oh please... don't ... so good ... you filthy bastard... I hate
you... I shouldn't feel so good...  no... I don't want to feel so
good... dirty... I feel dirty... but good ... I don't want... I
want... oh GOD so good... oh great God in heaven... I feel like...  a
whore...  you've made me a whore..."

She started to buck her hips, and impassively Walter noticed that as
she did so, she held the vibrator in a grip of steel, and he waited
for the next scene in the script to unfold. He knew she was on the
edge of climax, and that she would stay there, for as long as the
dildo buzzed not quite far enough inside her. The cameras whirred,
fixed on her lustful movements, as her moaning words became more
frantic and needy.

"I need to come... oh God, this is torture ... You asshole, if you are
going to make me your whore, at least let me come... please, oh please
I need ... I must... I need... god... that feels so good ... I need...
you're killing me!  Please, oh god please..."

This might be the moment that she realised the deceit, unless Joe
could manage it right.  It was too early for full effect, but they had
to take the risk.  Walter couldn't speak the line, without moving into
shot.

Joe lifted his head from Cyndi's breast and hissed "What do you need,
whore?"

Both men held their breath, but either he managed to sound like Walter
or she was too distracted by the fire in her body to hear anything but
the pounding of her own heart.

"I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME! I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME!" she screamed the
words like an insult. Then she began to beg, just as she had for
Walter dozens of times before, never dreaming when she said,  "Please,
I beg you, whoever you are, I need to be fucked, if I don't come soon,
I'll die..." she really was begging a "whoever."

"Please, I'll do anything you ask, if you'll just fuck me, and make me
come!"

Joe stood and moved to the end of the bed.    Deliberately he stripped
off his T-shirt, unzipped his jeans, and stood naked in all his beefy
glory.

Robbed of sight, she heard the sound of the zipper, and gasped when he
slid the vibrator out and tossed it to thud on the floor ..."Yes, oh
please, fill me with your cock, make me come,  fuck me now."

And so the moment came, perfect. Joe knelt on the bed, and placed his
thick prick at her opening, and while he drove it forward with all his
300lb bulk behind it, he said clearly, all attempt at disguise gone,
"Why Cyndi-Mae Jackson, I'd be delighted - I can' think of a single
thing I'd rather do." And he pulled the blindfold from her eyes.

 Her body was too prepared not to orgasm after hovering on the edge
for so long and  she screamed in simultaneous release and betrayal as
her cunt was filled with a cock at least twice the thickness of her
husband's, and half as long again "YEEEES! NO! Joe? Oh FUCK! Oh NO!
God this can't be happening, no... oh god, oh dear god I'm coming, I'm
coming, oh no, oh great GOD IN HEAVEN!"

As he fucked her,  Joe talked to Cyndi, covering the sound of her
repeated whisper of "no," with a crooning monologue, punctuated by
brutal thrusts into her spasming cunt.  "Oh darlin'.... that is the
warmest welcome ... I ever had! Your cunt...is so hot... so sweet...
so damn tight... oh darlin'... what's that,  ... don't... stop?  Oh
sugar, ... don't you worry yourself... about ... that... I ain't
...stoppin' any time ... real ... soon.  Angel, your Joe's gonna make
you come... over ... and ... over ... and over... till you think
you've died and gone to heaven."

And he did. For fifteen minutes, Joe fucked Cyndi, pushing her primed
and responsive body to peak after peak, while her words faded to
animal sounds - cries of protest and pleasure combined. And Walter
filmed it all

Walter filmed every plunge of  the fat paralegal's ass as he  hammered
himself deep into Cyndi,  his hands squeezing and fondling the perfect
breasts.  He zoomed to the spreading puddle of her climax beneath her
buttocks, then to her face -- head was thrown back, her mouth wide,
the picture of lust, and though she was crying, the tears pouring down
her cheeks could easily have been tears of  ecstasy.

Finally, Joe couldn't hold back any more.  His flabby buttocks
clenched, and he drove forward one final time, emptying his balls into
the cunt that sheathed him with a cry of "Sheeeeeiit! Yes!"  and
collapsing on top of the sobbing Cyndi, with the line, written
specially for him by Walter,  "Cindy-Mae, honey,  I've been fucked by
whores in every city in the country, and not one of them gave me a
ride like that one.   If I'd known how hot a little rough treatment
got you, I'd have done this when we were just kids. Think of all the
time and fine lovin' we've wasted!"

"You disgusting fat bastard," she spat at him, "I would never have...
you know I didn't know..."

"Baby, what I know is that I've just made you come, screaming, at
least eight or nine times, just like you begged me to so sweetly. I
think I deserve a little affectionate thanks." And he brought his
mouth down on hers, cutting off any response she might make.

Then Walter turned the camera off, and said "That's a wrap, folks. "

Joe broke the kiss, and Cyndi, still pinned under him, turned her
tearstained face and looked at Walter.

"Why?" she sniffled.

He ignored her.

"I hope she was all you expected," he said to Joe.  "I always found
her a damn good fuck myself, and both Rick Yardley and Albert Cross
had nothing praise for her skills.  Rick tells me her ass is as fine
as her cunt, though I can't say she ever let me sample that particular
pleasure."  

He saw comprehension begin to dawn, and horror spread across his
wife's face.

"Wee-eell," Joe drawled from where his head lay cushioned on  Cyndi's
breasts,  "I've got no complaints so far, though it's hard to judge a
girls performance on the basis of one fuck, however fine."

Walter smiled at him, a tight hard smile.

"True, true.  Well, she's all yours for the next couple of days. The
room and the cameras are booked till Monday morning, so why not put
her through her paces?  Or if you get bored, invite some friends
along, I'm there's any number of men who've been itching  to find out
what a rich man's whore does to make her worth her keep.  When you're
done with her, you can drop her back with her mamma, or at the
station, or wherever just as long as it's not with me. All I want is
the tapes - but I do want those."

"You'll get them buddy." Joe hauled himself off of Cyndi's body,
stood, and walked over to shake Walter's hand, "It's the least I could
do."

"Walter, please..."  It was a whisper, anguished, from the bed.  At
last, Walter tuned to look at his wife.

"Now, sweetheart, you be good for Joe.  You never know, if you're
REALLY good, he might keep you."

"No! Don't you leave me here like this, you asshole! I'll sue you for
every penny you've got." her voice was full of venom, now.

"Oh I don't think you will, my love.  Not when this room is booked in
Joe's name, and I've got this video tape of you telling  Joe here how
much you are looking forward to your games, before writhing and
arching for him, and screaming at  him to fuck you."

"But it was you... all you..."

"Not from the moment that blindfold went on, sweetheart.  I should be
hurt that  you can't tell your husband's touch after two years of
marriage, but frankly, it doesn't surprise me, and I'm quite relieved.
If I'd  had to touch you, I would have vomited.  Make the best of a
bad situation, Cyndi. You've had two good years, and I'll send your
stuff on, wherever you ask for it - all the jewellery, all the
clothes. "

He smiled at her, his eyes flinty, "It's a good rate, even for the
best of whores, and I don't think you'll ever match it again - not
once this tape and the others you'll make over the next couple of days
start popping up around the place. I'm fairly sure that at that point
your price will drop rapidly. "

"You wouldn't!"

"I would, and I will. I don't like being taken for a sucker, Cyndi."

He turned his back on her, started the cameras, and walked away.  At
the doorway he stopped, as  he heard Joe say, in a soft, soft voice, 

"Showtime, Sweet Cyndi-Mae.  Now I know your poor little cunt must be
tuckered out from that pounding I gave it, so why don't you just open
that pouty mouth wide and  we'll see  how  your lips, tongue and
throat can handle a fat boy's cock?"

He couldn't resist turning, to see the horror in her eyes as she fully
realised that he really was going to leave her here.  Joe was kneeling
by the bed, his cock brushing her lips, hand stroking her face.

"Please Joe..." she begged, her voice desperate.  

"Oh darlin'," he replied, and his tone was full of amused affection,
but uncompromising,  "You don't need to beg me. You know I want it as
much as I do, so let's not waste time."

Her body shuddered in defeat, and the last thing Walter saw before he
left was twelve inches of thick cock start to slide into the mouth
Cyndi opened to receive it.

He left laughing, he could hardly wait to see the tapes. They were
going to make him a fortune. Revenge was sweet.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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