Chapter One

 

Bethany closed her book and leant over to secrete it in the hidden drawer of her bedside cabinet, away from prying eyes. Not so much from her husband, who would never think to hunt for such things, more from her cleaner, who might. Her current arousal was heightened by her plush surroundings: the cool smoothness of the Egyptian cotton bed linen, the rich colours of the wall-hanging tapestries and oak furniture, all dimly lit by the bedside lamps. Primarily it was the bed that evoked her strongest feelings; an intricately carved four-poster that she longed to be tied to. She could have been a defenceless Tudor damsel with a baying enemy at her door if not for the television at the foot of the bed, and even this could be remotely lowered and concealed within the chest beneath it.

Her whole day had been leading up to this point, when she would finally allow herself to masturbate. She had staved off numerous attempts by her body to defeat her willpower, knowing that patience would yield more pleasurable rewards. Many fantasies and scenarios had flitted into her mind, vying to be the one she used when the time came. She knew now that the chosen one would be her 'Sun Tattoo' theme, inspired by the heat of the summer day and the all-girl scene from her book. She was becoming increasingly surprised at the level of filth that popped into her head during her private moments, and such moments were becoming ever more frequent since Stephen set out to expand his business at home and abroad. She was unconvinced that the extra freedom compensated for her loneliness but she knew that even if present, there was little chance of her husband indulging her fantasies. He was a straight-laced man who treated sex as a requirement to fit into a time slot of his busy schedule. The warmth from their courting days seemed to have evaporated from their lovemaking, and although he didn't use her just as a receptacle for his lusts, he showed little inclination to broaden his horizons.

Her friends had always jealously told her that her looks would ensure that she could have anyone she wanted. Buckinghamshire was full of handsome and infinitely eligible young men, but she chose to become besotted with the man she worked for instead. They strongly advised her against marrying an older man but at the time she had been too wrapped up in his charm to heed the advice. Now it seemed the age gap was taking its toll. In recent weeks her need to masturbate had grown, as her dirty thoughts started to fill her empty days. Once her orgasm had chased away the guilty images, she was left with the hollow feeling that the chance to live out any parts of her hidden desires was inexorably slipping away.

She lay now with the sheets off and her body naked, the white linen a stark contrast to her long raven hair. She was determined to resist the urgent throb from between her legs and take her time in reaching her climax. Her skin felt sensitive to her touch and despite the warmth of the room, goose pimples sprung up on her flesh as she traced a line from her thighs, over her belly and up to her breasts. Her nipples were already hardened into little dark peaks as she pinched and stretched them cruelly.

She could wait no longer, her hand slipping down and cupping her sex, feeling the heat emanate as her index finger moved up her slit, gently parting her labia and gathering the slick moistness from within before continuing upwards. Her clitoris was already awake and swollen within the confines of its protective hood. Bethany used two gentle fingers to tease the pulsing bud as she focused her mind and let her rude imagination take over.

This particular fantasy always began the same: she had committed a minor indiscretion and her Mistress was set to punish her. One of the other girls from the harem was selected to prepare her. She was taken upstairs where she swapped her clothes for a tiny white g-string, her pouting puss barely covered by the fabric. She was put on her knees and bent over the bed, pushing her round buttocks out for the attentions of the other girl, who was holding a small metal tin and a thin paintbrush. Straining around, Bethany was just able to see the label on the tin, and wondered what 'liquid latex' could possibly be. The harem girl set to work studiously, taking her time to paint neatly onto Beth's bare arse, giggling proudly as the first part was complete.

By twisting uncomfortably, Bethany was able to watch herself in the cheval mirror in the corner of the room and could see the results of her companion's handiwork: black letters that stood slightly proud and pulled at her skin as they dried hard. She struggled to read the words spelled out, seeing them only in reflection and having them often obscured as the girl set to work with the brush on the other buttock. When the work was done the artist stood back and Beth could finally read the words, panicking as they became legible, nervous of what was to follow. Her hair was then put up into a ponytail and she was led back down to her Mistress who stood waiting on the garden patio, her other two slave-girls at her feet.

On the newly cut lawn, Beth could see a rectangle of white, some five foot long by three wide. Her Mistress didn't even look at her as she took her by the wrist and led her up the garden to the white rectangle, which proved to be made of a shiny rubber. She was instructed to lay down on her front, her legs very slightly apart and her arms just in front of her, so she could lie on them and prop herself up from the groundsheet, which already felt uncomfortably warm against her bare skin. The slaves were summoned and set about securing her to the ground, hammering down metal shapes like miniature croquet hoops over her ankles and wrists. Beth's uneasiness grew-already the sun felt hot on her exposed body and the sweat was starting to gather beneath her.

The slaves came again, this time carrying another white rubber sheet. They stood at her feet and held the sheet up, showing a perfectly round whole cut into its centre. Beth was pondering the reason as the girls lay the sheet over her back, the rubber clinging to her perspiration as she was enveloped. Just as she feared suffocation, the head end of the sheet was raised, and two metal struts pushed into the soil to hold it up off her head. She lay encased in her rubber sandwich, completely covered except for her bottom, which was perfectly framed by the cut away circle and stuck out towards the sun. The gathered slaves giggled at her plight and mocked her bare bum and the black words upon them. She could hear their laughter fade as they retreated to the house, abandoning her to her fate.

As the sweat started to drip and pool beneath her breasts and belly, Beth knew this was a test of endurance. She could with some pain escape from the shackles but this would be a terrible show of disobedience and she was desperate to prove her loyalty to her Mistress. To give yourself freely to a person, to obey every command they imposed upon you despite the personal cost was the most exhilarating and erotic action she could imagine. It left you utterly helpless and at the mercy of their cruel mind, yet was a supreme test of your own. The reaches their perverted imagination attained were merely a reflection of your own endurance, for without you they were nothing. You were the canvas on which to paint and their work was bounded only by your limits. While Beth was struggling to bear her punishment she knew that secretly her Mistress was also willing her to triumph too. It was this thought that made her pussy seep the juices that mixed with her sweat and drenched her panties.

The sun beat heavily on her naked flesh and a sudden tingle and tightness of her skin signalled that she had been exposed too long and that her bottom was starting to burn. Her hair was streaked wet and any free strands were plastered to her face. Her throat was dry and dusty and she was dehydrating fast. She had to fight with every inch of her being to tolerate her situation. Each time a wave of claustrophobic panic gripped her and she teetered on the edge of defeat, the thought of her beautiful Mistress brought a fresh surge of stamina.

In reality, Beth was now laying with her legs wide apart, her busy fingers alternatively rubbing her clitoris or plumbing the depths of her sodden cunt. Her wetness was mirroring her fantasy and drenching the sheet beneath her. So far she had been in control of her thoughts, her fingers dictating the pace as the familiar story was played out in her mind. Then, from a secret place in a dark corner of her imagination came a new twist to the tale: a pair of feet and ankles appeared at the entrance to her white rubber tent, and one unidentified slave bent to place a tall glass just in front of Bethany's face.

The glass was presented on a small salver for stability and a bendy straw reached invitingly towards her. The liquid contents were a clear pale gold and were being chilled by three or four ice cubes that clinked gently against each other. A mist of condensation clung to the glass and small drops traced lazy lines on their descent. It could have been a godsend, a delicious glass of ice-cold apple juice to quench her desperate thirst. It wasn't, of course. With a shiver, and before the liquid warmed enough to give off its telltale odour, Beth knew that this was not apple juice; it was a glass of urine. If she wanted to slake her overwhelming need then she would be compelled to drink her Mistress's piss.

Beth sobbed gently at her plight and the cruelty that was being meted out to her. She had never before been asked to perform such a degrading act and it was certainly not something she would seek to do. However, she had to admit that there was no order issued that she must drink, just the temptation laid before her. And tempting it was; the cold contents looked dizzyingly inviting in her current condition and her resistance was broken almost immediately. Her Mistress had won. Leaning forward, Beth took the straw between her dry lips and sucked, the cold piss flooding into her mouth and coating her tongue with a salty, mineral tang.

She quickly swallowed to rid herself of her humiliation and to ease her arid throat. It was not enough though, and immediately her body cried out for more. It was not just her mouth that demanded it either. To her shame she realized her pussy was also begging for it with equal fervour. She leant forward again and with her eyes tightly shut to block out her guilt she sucked the straw as greedily as she could, filling her mouth over and over and gulping it down, wishing her Mistress was watching this depraved act of submission.

As she lay panting from the thrill of her actions, her attention was turned to her buttocks, still being cooked by the sun and now smarting noticeably. Her drink had gone a little way to easing her discomfort but now the cling of the rubber was starting to overwhelm her resistance, and panic was once again rising. How long had she been here? How long did they plan to leave her at the mercy of the sun? She was losing her battle of endurance and feared she would give in at any moment, calling out for help or simply pulling away the hoops that held her.

Just at the point of defeat they came for her, peeling off the top rubber sheet and releasing her, helping her weak and soaking body up and back to the house. She was led past her Mistress who stood just inside the open French doors that led out to the garden. She remained silent but Beth was sure she could detect a look of pride in those dark eyes, and just a hint of a smile at their shared triumph.

A slave took Beth to be showered, soaping her burnt behind and pulling off the latex that clung and stung when removed. Her bottom felt hot and sore, even with only tepid water against it and she was glad the flimsy g-string had at least protected the delicate folds of her pussy. Although the slave was trying to be careful, the sight of the red arse before her obviously proved too much and she span Beth around and kissed her deeply, grabbing handfuls of bum and squeezing urgently, despite the pain she knew it would cause.

Having patted her dry, the slave soothed Bethany's skin with a cool lotion and then took her, still completely naked, back downstairs. Their Mistress was now sitting on a sofa, a mirror propped up on the seat beside her. For the first time that day she addressed Bethany, instructing her to come close and get on all fours, her bottom towards the sofa. Beth obeyed, looking over her shoulder as her Mistress held up the mirror so the results of her ordeal could be revealed to her for the first time. Her buttocks were almost scarlet and glistening with the oily lotion. In contrast pale words had been formed on each cheek where the black latex had masked the skin, clear now despite only being seen in reflection, a humiliating sun tattoo. On one buttock the legend 'BUM WHORE' and on the other 'FUCK HERE', with a neat arrow going diagonally down towards the small indent in the cheek that heralded the gateway to her anus.

Beth's face turned as red as her bottom with the humiliation and the excited thoughts of what was to follow. Would she be left at the mercy of the slaves? Or perhaps taken to the Mistress's club-or worse still to a public place-and left exposed and on her knees, with any passer-by able to read and act upon the instructions clearly marked on her arse? The Mistress spoke again, telling her that the punishment was far from over. Beth gasped as she saw the leather paddle being raised up, ready to deliver unspeakable pain and pleasure to her tortured flesh.

Now writhing on the bed, Beth was frigging herself furiously, trying hard not to take herself over the edge, wanting to find out what else was to become of her in her perverted imagination. She knew she couldn't last long, both hands now simultaneously working her pussy as the filth raged in her head. The sudden chime from the phone made her squeal and jump, her fingers leaping from her quim with a lewd plop. She answered the phone hastily, like a guilty child caught in the act, her fingers smearing the receiver with her juices. Her husband seldom called at this time when he was away. He sure as hell picked his moments.

"Where are you?" His voice seemed stern and unfamiliar.

"Stephen?" Her head was still immersed in the memories of the fantasy and her concentration struggled to resurface though she knew something was wrong. The voice said again:

"Where are you?"

Her previous excitement was being replaced by edginess now as she tried to make sense of the situation. The voice sounded intelligent and with no accent, just like her husband's but it was slightly deeper and more commanding somehow. It was this that compelled her to reply,

"I'm in bed. Stephen what's-"

"Do exactly as I say. Stay where you are and do not make a sound. I am coming to rob you now."

The phone went dead and Beth stared in shock at it. It wasn't Stephen. Was it Stephen? Had he said 'rob'? The adrenalin shiver started at the top of her head and spread coldly down her body and into her limbs. If it wasn't Stephen, then who was it? A crank caller seemed the obvious answer. She checked the last number re-dial, which proved to be withheld. She was worried now. What should she do, and where the fuck was her useless husband when she needed him? Since she didn't know his number, phoning him would entail leaving the perceived safety of her bedroom and going downstairs for her cell phone. She climbed off the bed onto shaky legs and put on her silk gown to cover her nakedness. She had only made two steps towards the door when she heard the stairs creaking outside her room. Her cry froze in her throat as she looked around vainly for a weapon of some kind or a place to hide. In the end she did what all good victims in horror films do and climbed back into bed with her knees up, with only her head peeping out from the covers.

As the door swung slowly open, two pencil-thin beams of light speared through the darkness and lit up points on the opposite wall. The figure entered the room and the lights swung around towards her before being lost in the glow from her bedside lamps. She could see the beams came from the small torches mounted either side of his head, an apparatus usually favoured by SWAT teams and the odd club DJ.

He moved silently towards the bed, everything below his chest obscured from her vision by the TV. His approach brought his head into view and she could see he was wearing a shiny black balaclava-style mask beneath his torch apparatus. The mask covered most of his face, cutting away just above the tip of his nose and leaving his mouth and chin completely exposed before joining back up at the neck. His eyes were hidden behind slits cut into the mask, and any chance of observing them was prevented by the torch beams. The mask was made either of patent leather or rubber, she could not tell which. If he had been a superhero, it was possible his mum may have fashioned it for him. In all likelihood it had simply been purchased from an internet sex shop.

Beth's jaw was trembling uncontrollably with fear and her heart was pounding in her chest. Inexplicably and selfishly her pussy was still trying to demand some attention, seemingly oblivious to the current crisis. The man was now at the foot of the bed and she could appreciate his size. He was taller than her husband and with broader shoulders. He rested one gloved hand on the top of the TV and with a fresh rush of crippling fear Beth could see he was holding a knife. The blade was flat and short, perhaps only three inches in length although quite broad. It was made of polished steel, almost white in colour as it glinted menacingly in the half-light. Now would have been a good time to scream for help but Beth was still rendered mute and in the end it was he who broke the silence.

"I am not going to harm you," he said, "do exactly as I say and you will be fine."

His voice was calm and even and Beth found herself easing away from the peak of hysteria, although her gaze remained resolutely on the knife.

"I am just going to take a few things. They can be easily replaced. I do not plan to hurt you, do you understand?"

She managed to nod in affirmation. Something in the way he spoke led her to believe his words and she felt assured and almost secure in his presence. He slowly moved sideways from behind the TV and emerged into the open and Beth finally broke her silence, a short gasping sob escaping from her lips at what she saw. Everything he wore was black: his sweater and the small duffel bag that he had over his shoulder, the army boots and his loose leather trousers that were fastened with the help of a heavy belt. The trousers had no zipper, instead a pair of nickel studs by the waistline could be used to secure a flap designed to conceal the crotch. These studs were not, however, currently being utilised. The flap was hanging down and bursting from the opening was the most enormous erect cock that Bethany had ever seen.

She was simply transfixed by his member. Its girth was huge and even at the end she would have struggled to get her hand around it. It was almost three times as long as the knife, which now looked pitifully impotent next to this great weapon. The network of raised veins stretched at the skin and looked ready to burst. The foreskin was partially pulled back revealing a bulbous purple head that shone with its engorgement and threatened to explode. His cock was free of pubic hair, his smooth scrotum tensing as his heavy balls rose and fell in their tight confines. If she could have taken her eyes of his cock she might have seen the smug sneer that flitted across his lips.

He turned from her and moved across to the chest of drawers to her left. She could now see the side view of his erection as it stretched out from his body. She shivered at the thought of being made to take these huge dimensions inside her, and fear returned to push away her relative composure. Despite his assurances she now realised he must have plans beyond simple robbery, or why else was his penis naked and ready for action? Her knees closed together in reaction to her thoughts but her pussy, still flushed with arousal from her wanking, twinged with anticipation.

The man had opened the little box on top of her chest that contained her jewellery. She now felt the first pang of regret that they were not more secure as there were several items of both sentimental and monetary value. She knew Stephen would be more worried about the latter. She wondered what else the Intruder would plunder from the house. Some of the art and artefacts her husband had accrued were quite valuable and potentially irreplaceable. There was little of hers around the house except her phone and purse, which she assumed had already been emptied. He was loading the contents of the box into his duffel bag and she again found herself staring at his crotch. She had more to lose than jewellery. Looking up at him she saw that he was smiling at her, obviously enjoying the pull his member had on her vision. She jumped slightly and quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught ogling him. His smile, she realised, was one of arrogance. He expected her to be transfixed by his organ and took pleasure from the control it had over her.

Much as she disliked his arrogance she could not defeat it. She found herself unable to keep her eyes off his big cock. How on earth did he manage to sustain such a rigid erection? It was harder than any she had seen and she knew that if she could just put her hand around it, it would feel like hot iron in her palm. Again she realised her fear had ebbed away and instead she was beset by a calmness at odds with her situation. It came from him. He was controlling her without force by emitting an air of assured authority. Bizarrely she was finding herself glad to be under his power and looking forward to his commands.

He had returned to his original position by the side of the bed and was staring at her, the arrogant smile not yet quite gone. When he spoke his voice was again calm but terse:

"Do as I say. Come here and kneel in front of me."

Her heart was banging hard but despite her shaking limbs she complied, climbing from the bed and dropping down so that her face was level with his penis. Her breathing was hard and audible as she knelt before him staring at his beautiful cock. It was bobbing gently as the blood pulsed through it and her head was going up and down, following its movements. It was hypnotizing her, actually drawing her in closer until she could smell his arousal. The glans was still impossibly swollen and ready to burst, a tear of pre-come glistening at the very tip.

She was waiting for his command. She felt no fear or trepidation, only the desire to plunge her mouth down onto his snake and feel the venom spray into her. She had to force herself to keep her hands by her sides, to keep her mouth shut and wait for his instruction which she knew must come. She could feel the wetness running from her pussy and she was now desperate to have him try to fuck her with this huge cock. Still he remained unmoved, torturing her with his silence and completely aware of the effect he was having on her. When finally he spoke it was quietly, but she still jumped and her stomach churned, her bowels loosening with fearful anticipation.

"Listen to me carefully," he said, "I am going to go now but I will be back. Another time when you are alone I will return."

"No! Wait!" Beth heard the desperate plea before realising it was her who issued it. The man had remained still, perhaps expecting her entreaty. She was flushed and shaking and she could feel tears welling in her eyes but she could not stop herself. Almost of its own accord her tongue came out and flicked the underside of his cock, tracing the line of his frenum, making him inhale sharply. She was glad to have sent this pleasure through him and her heart felt like it was almost about to stop. Again her tongue came out, slower and more deliberate this time, tracing the line from the underside once more but continuing up to lap the drop of clear semen from his sensitive tip. Again he shuddered but she was too engrossed to notice now. Tasting him had sent her lusts into frenzy and she needed now to have him completely.

When she took hold of his member it was as hot and rigid as she had imagined. She sank her mouth onto it, feeling her jaw stretch to accommodate his size. Her tongue teased the end while her hand moved swiftly up and down his silky shaft. Taking the head further into her mouth she sucked hard, her tongue squashed against the floor of her mouth and unable to move. She tried to drive her head down his length, taking him as far as she could whilst still wanking him, her hand knocking against her lips as they met.

Her left hand had pulled her gown open and was clutching at her sex, pulling the lips roughly and squeezing her clit within its hood. Her fingers pushed easily inside her hot passage and she stirred them around, trying to keep her concentration on what she was doing to him. His breathing was heavy too as her hand flashed up and down his pole and she alternated teasing tongue-work with deep sucking. She was moaning with unbridled pleasure as she went about her business, sounding and feeling like a whore.

Her fingers felt insignificant in her pussy and more than anything she wanted him to put his huge erection inside her and fill her completely. It wasn't to be. With a loud grunt he held her head and erupted into her mouth, spurting wave after wave of hot semen into her that she had no option but to swallow, something she had never done before. She gave a muffled squeal as she struggled to drink it down, feeling its acrid burn in her throat. His cock seemed to keep jerking and pulsing forever but eventually he slipped it from her aching mouth and stood silently regarding her. She took her eyes off his slowly retreating penis and looked up at him, still breathing heavily and wanting fulfilment. He smiled down at her, a warm smile this time, not a sneer. His hand came up and stroked her face almost imperceptibly. Then, wordlessly, he turned and left the room.

Bethany didn't know if it was relief at his parting or just her overwhelming need for release but a hot rush spread through her body and she sat back and opened her legs wide. She crammed her fingers into her dripping cunt and thrust them in and out, feeling her orgasm immediately building with unstoppable momentum. She was yelling, her cries drowning out the slurping of her pussy as she fucked herself. She knew he would be able to hear her but she didn't care. She wanted him to know what a state he had brought her to and how turned on she was now. She thought of herself bent over and tied to a bench in a public park, her panties down and her sunburned bottom exposed. She pictured him behind her, his cock already out and erect, pushing against the crack between her cheeks as he read the words of her sun tattoo...

She came as hard as she had ever done before, her head spinning and stars bursting behind her eyelids, her pussy squeezing the fingers that were jammed inside her. The force rocked her body and almost burst her open until it finally released her and she was able to slump against the side of the bed, breathless and spent.

It took her a long time to recover and even longer to rationalise the evenings events. It had seemed surreal but the ache in her jaw and the open and empty jewellery box told her it had indeed happened. Then the truth began to drive itself home to her. An intruder, masked and carrying a knife, had been to her room and robbed her. She could have been seriously hurt or worse, she could have been raped, beaten, murdered. Maybe next time she would be; the intruder had promised to return. The cold chill returned as she understood the recent peril she had been in but at the same time, whenever his image came into her mind, his huge cock and his warm smile was all she saw. She had to push the images away, knowing that to dwell on them would have led to another frantic session of masturbation. How could something so potentially terrifying be so arousing?

She did not know what she would tell Stephen, except that it wouldn't be the truth. She had cheated on him, and even though the intruder had a knife she knew that she was more than willing to do what she did. She had instigated it, in fact. She felt no remorse for cheating, either. She felt angry that Stephen had not been there and yet even gladder of his absence. It had been the most erotic experience of her life, despite the potential repercussions. She climbed into bed, trying to formulate a story to spin to her husband on his return in the morning. Try as she might though, she could not rid herself of the thought of being enslaved by the masked man. Inevitably her husband was pushed to the back of her mind as her hand crept its way down between her legs and she let herself be overtaken by the darkness of a depraved imagination.