A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 05

Suddenly the door opened and light washed away Sara's nightmare vision. Her eyes looked up instinctively but screwed themselves almost tight shut to protect her from the invading energy. She could just make out the looming form of a man when she heard Juan say,

"Your husband is enjoying himself in the other room. He drinks plenty of beer but he does not worry about his little wife. He thinks she is very faithful to him. He trusts her. But we know, don't we, how little trust he should place in her. What have you been thinking all this time in the dark? Are you ready to accept your place now?"

Sara started to focus, but still had difficulty seeing his form clearly through her tear stained eyes. She just nodded mutely at him, feeling all resistance totally quashed. He leaned forward.

"That's a good girl. He kissed her face and stroked her with some kindness. Now I will take you out and we can go upstairs."

He reached above her head and she felt the chain slacken and her hands dropped into her lap. They were still bound together by the handcuffs that even in the poor light stealing in over Juan's shoulder, glinted menacingly at her. Juan helped her up and out of the cupboard. He collected the crop and then they walked slowly, Sara stumbling with the cramp she felt in her legs. They made their way along the hall and up the stairs. Juan got her to the bedroom and made her sit down. He massaged her arms and legs to improve her circulation while he talked to her. She did not need to respond, she just needed to listen to his instruction. She felt the blood flow once again through her limbs as he lay her gently on the bed. He had not removed her gag but wrapped a rope over the handcuffs and pulled them above her head to fasten them to the bed. He had said this would not be painful as the bed would support the weight of her arms. But she could not reappear downstairs until Marie got back. He then removed her skirt and panties and smiled at her as he bent low studying the dampness seeping out of her and the aroma of her arousal.

"You are such a little slut, Sara. You like this treatment don't you? I know, I understand. You hate it, and you hate yourself for liking it, but your body reacts to what goes on in your mind. This is a part of you Sara. You may wish you were a simple middle class career woman, but somewhere deep inside you there lies a slut longing to be forced out into the open. Being locked up, being beaten, turns you on. Don't worry about this. You will come to accept it, because you are just accepting a part of yourself that you have been denying for too long."

As he spoke he started to remove his jeans. He knelt between her naked legs, leaning forward he started to kiss her. Sara struggled and moaned again. She didn't want this, yet part of her wished he would be less gentle and just drive himself into her. She imagined that spider again, softly inflaming her whilst leaving her unfulfilled. She needed him to force his entry deep inside her. She needed raw sex right now, to shut out the space to think, but Juan knew what he was about.

Juan raised himself and placed his penis at her entrance. He enticed her with its velvet touch, encouraging her to beg him to enter her. She didn't want to comply, she wanted to be taken, but he insisted and her need drove her to raise her hips to offer him swift entrance; she had complied, she had participated. This was not rape, and she was ashamed that she had invited him to drive himself down and into her. His shaft slid in and out of her, pushing her body up against the headboard and back down along the bed once again. She was squeezing him in rhythm as he pumped into her, trying to pull his seed out of his balls and up into her cunt. Her groans fell into the same rhythm as his as she was panting into her gag. His hands landed upon her breasts as he towered over her. She stared up at him with a look of lust, her body responding to him as he played it. She felt his tension build and felt Juan's load shoot into her deep recesses. He thrust violently with each spasm erupting into her warm soft womb, and her eyes watered as his cock tried to drive its way still deeper into her belly. Then he fell on top of her and she felt the tension snap inside her and she started to climb down from her own orgasm. She thought briefly and distractedly of the spider again and this time it had a huge phallus which had just raped her. She felt satisfied.

Juan raised himself slowly. He seemed drained of energy and fought to get himself dressed fighting his tiredness. He smiled down at Sara still tied to the bed.

"You are fucking good. You even get off fucking some stranger on your own marriage bed. Wait till I tell the others. Your husband will be too drunk to notice them slipping one by one out the room, acquainting themselves with his wife in his own bed."

Sara lay defeated staring up at Juan the now familiar mix of excitement and humiliation sweeping through her. She felt too tired to even try and resist. He continued to smile at her, leaned over and kissed her forehead and then left. Sara lay there on the bed, she felt Juan's seed ooze out of her, but was unable to do anything to stop its sticky progress across the bedcovers. As she lay there she found herself lost once again in an ocean of time to think, and she felt unnerved by this space. Waiting, just waiting, sooner or later the others would be upstairs following the smell of honey that she could do nothing to stop.

She did not know what would happen next. As she lay on the bed she wondered where these cravings of humiliation came from. She realised that she needed to feel she had responded to the men who abused her. She needed to be a good lay, yet she did not understand why she felt this way. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls landing heavily on the stairs. Someone was coming up to see her. As the sound of the footsteps approached she felt a sudden fear that it would be Tom. That he would see her tied to the bed, firmly gagged, Juan's cream filling her slit and waiting for anyone to enter. She was sweating from the exertions of fucking Juan, but she now felt the cold chill of exposure run through her. She turned her head towards the door in fear. She struggled against her bonds in a vain attempt to escape, her heart pounded and she felt the blood beat through her ears. She was unable to move, unable to stop what was about to happen. She just lay there available. She could not put out a hand even to pretend some modesty before Tom as she lay falling out of her torn blouse, her skirt and panties somewhere abandoned on the floor. She could not even use her mouth to try and explain, to say something that would make her seem less willing. She was a slower that just waited for a bee to come and bury itself deep within her, unable to move yet drawing the bee towards her.

As the door opened, one of Juan's friends entered. His eyes opened wide at the sight of her and he walked slowly around her. Her eyes followed him, patiently waiting, knowing there was nothing to say, nothing for her to do. She was just his fuck toy. He studied the damp patch that had grown between her open legs and dipping his fingers into it, he brought them up to her face. He held his fingers for her to smell her own arousal and said something to her in Spanish. She did not know what it meant, and she found herself incongruously trying to remember the Spanish word for whore. She wanted to be able to tell if that was what she was being called. He smeared the juices over her breasts and kneaded them, then licked his tongue over her face. She pulled her head back as far as she could, but was unable to escape him. He knelt across her chest and unzipped his pants. His thick cock leaped out already erect and looking huge before her eyes. He started to jack off in front of her, pointing his cock at her face. She could not look away, mesmerised by his thick cock. She felt sick at the thought he was about to shoot his load over her face and she was unable to move away. She felt her throat constrict and a feeling of sick revulsion, but he was working his cock faster and faster by now. He rocked his hips back and forward as if he were thrusting into her face. She saw the little slit of its opening draw closer to her eyes and then withdraw. She was powerless, only able to wait for what was to come, and after what seemed like an age he finally spurt a long silky spurt of creamy fluid that hit her cheek just above her lip. She felt the strand dangle down and come to rest on her chin as wave upon wave of spurts landed over her face. She could taste the saltiness of it as it oozed down behind her gag and into her mouth. She could not close her mouth, she could not protect herself in any way, she was just a receptacle for these men. She felt a strange calm wash over her with this thought, as if it was alright because she could do nothing. She was not responsible.

One by one she heard the men approach up the stairs. Each time it seemed a long and interminable wait, the sounds of their approach getting slowly louder, making her agonise over the anticipation. She was fucked over and again, abused in a language she could not understand, her body inspected, so thoroughly fingered, so completely inflamed. She felt hot from all her exertions. One of the men had turned her round and sank into her from behind. Sara had become more involved as time went on. No longer the innocent victim, but the enticing whore. She had responded as best she could, pushed back at them as they thrust into her, screamed into her gag with each mounting orgasm. When one of the men forced himself into her anus, the pain and humiliation were mingled with her most exquisite orgasm. She was out of control. She longed to have her hands back, to stroke those cocks, to pull them into her, to jerk them off and run her fingers smearing their cum over her body. Her mind was given over to sex and craving. She had forgotten her husband Tom downstairs, or where she was. She was being played by these men like some musical instrument, and the reward took her breath away.