Biggest Risk of My Life Ch. 05

I noticed her whole body seemed drenched with sweat. Her pubic area was certainly soaked with her female excretions. Her ass looked hot and an angry red and her pussy lips were swollen with either arousal of abuse, or both.

"One more slap... and you can cum, sweet slut. Hold on for me," I happily announced.

I gave her pussy lips a stinging slap and, almost at the same time, I positioned my face close to her pubic mound, wanting to see her reaction.

She erupted. No other way to describe it. She erupted, squirting her female ejaculate out and soaked my face. Her body spasmed as this happened, her screams and moans blending together as she tensed then frantically humped the air for many seconds. Holy hell. What a sight.

Her rasping breathing carried on for at least a minute when I suddenly had a brainwave. I reached over and grasped the small cord that was attached to the vibrating balls in her cunt. Remember, these had been going continuously while the spanking had been going on.

I carefully extracted the balls and clicked off the remote before inserting my two forefingers, palm up, into the hot depths of her cunt. So wet, I marvelled.

I searched around with my fingers, looking for the Holy Grail. Yes, the elusive G-spot that could be found if the searcher knew exactly where to look. It is far more easily found in some women and almost impossible in others. Once it's found, if it is stimulated... well, it's like stimulating a man's Prostate gland. It can result in an almost instantaneous orgasm, if touched at the correct time with the correct pressure. I had missed earlier when she was strung up under the doorway. However, that new time was now, I decided. She was ready.

I searched for that slightly rougher area in the lining of her inner cunt walls: at the top, almost beneath the clit base itself.

Meanwhile, Christina was still breathing deeply but more regularly now and had begun to thank me.

"Master, that was amazing. It was so wicked and... what's that? What are you doing? What... arrraaggghh. My god... I'm going to pee... I can't stop. I'm going to... cum... I'm... cuming... Arrraggghh. Help... what's noooooo. Arrraagggghh."

With that, her body just seized again and began to shake uncontrollably. I slowed down my fingers... then speeded up again, also stimulating her clitoris with my other hand. It was like having my fingers in a small spring as it bubbled up around them. Soda stream had nothing like this, I though and chuckled.

Finally I heard, "Stop. No more, please. Stop. I can't take any more. Stop."

"You can do it, slut. Cum for me again. Cum," I instructed, giving a vigorous finger movement over her G spot with one hand and actually pinching her engorged clitoris with the other.

I could feel her body as it weakly surged, valiantly responding one last time as I literally wrung another orgasm out of it.

"Please... no more, Master." Her voice was actually quite faint at this stage, so I knew she had almost reached a state of exhaustion.

I reached down, removed the butt vibrator and the two pegs from her nipples and packed them away in my goodies bags. It was easy to complete my housekeeping. I used the wash cloth I had already removed from the bathroom and gave myself a quick wipe. My face was quite sticky from her ejaculation.

Very quickly I dressed in my dark clothing, replacing my balaclava just in case she got a glimpse of me. Then completed packing my goodies bags.

Right now the lovely Christina was dead to the world, sleeping stretched out. I removed the hooks from the doorway top and, carefully, so I didn't disturb her, removed the hooks from the bedhead. This meant her arms were now free and I was risking her removing the sleeping mask. With her in an exhausted sleep, I had decided to risk it.

The ankle cuffs I had removed earlier. So, the only items that Christina still had were the two wrist cuffs, the balaclava and sleeping mask. I decided she could keep them as they couldn't be traced. Perhaps she will give them to her husband to use on her, I speculated. Wouldn't that be ironic!

With a final check to ensure she was sleeping peacefully and a last glance around the room, checking for any leftover items, I departed.

My house entry was simply reversed and it wasn't long before I was back in the rental enroute for the airport. I stopped by a park and changed back out of the dark clothes into my business attire. All my "burglar" clothing including the shoes was later disposed of in a Salvation Army collection bin. The toys I kept, having owned them since before I met my wife. After a good clean in boiling water they would join my other items in my private lockup.

Morning was just breaking. We never actually had a long sleep throughout the night: just short ones to recover from each little adventure. I was exhausted, so I had some understanding of how Christina must feel. She definitely needed the whole of the daytime to recover before picking me up from the airport around 7 pm.

I pulled into a motel complex that was close to the airport, to get a room for the day. They would be used to having passengers staying for weird amounts of time, fitting in to flight timetables.

Now all I had to do was give Christina a phone call later in the afternoon to arrange a time for her to pick me up from the airport. Then life would begin again. But would it be the same life? That was the big unanswered question.

...

Christina

I slowly came to and opened my eyes. At least, I think I did. Darkness was all around me and I could feel panic and fear building swiftly. Then I remembered where I was and what had happened.

My head cover and eye mask was obviously still on and I strained to hear what was going on around me. Nothing. All I heard was the sound of silence, with no Simon and Garfunkel involved. Wow, my husband was actually rubbing off on me. That was the sort of silly thing he would say, I suddenly thought. The mental mention of my husband immediately brought me back to my current situation.

Why was there no sound? Why couldn't I hear anything? Even the soft music that had played in the background was no longer audible.

My stomach was itchy and I moved my hand down to scratch. Wait! I could move my hand. There were no other reactions occurring, so I moved the other arm. Yes, success. I moved them both up to my face and removed the eye mask. I could now see, although things were a bit hazy after being covered for... how long, I wondered?

I sat up, swinging my legs off the bed and on to the floor and looked about the room. There was no one else present. With great relief I used both hands to pull the head cover up and off my head. Oh, the relief! The wonderful feeling of fresh air on my bare face. Holding the head cover in my hands, I noticed the cuffs on my wrists and that they had simple straps. I undid the straps from both and dropped them on top of the discarded mask and head cover. Later I would learn that it had been a balaclava.

I stood up, my legs a little shaky beneath me and proceeded directly to my bathroom to take care of a certain desperate situation.

Emerging a couple of minutes later, I flashed a further quick glance around my bedroom, noting that it looked exactly as it did before all "this" began.

Fearful that the intruder might be still in the house, I slowly made my way down stairs. No one was in the living room nor the kitchen. I began to relax a little. My heart was still beating very quickly though as I quickly checked the main entrance door and back entrance door. Both were locked. That only left the patio sliding doors. OMG. These were closed but... unlocked. Is this how he got in, I wondered? I immediately locked them, making me feel just a small bit safer.

I decided to do a complete sweep of the apartment of all rooms, beginning back upstairs with the Master bedroom and ensuite. Mmm I hadn't thought of that name before, Master bedroom, in that context. Before continuing that line of thought, I checked the two guest bedrooms, the other bathrooms plus the upstairs office.

Downstairs I repeated my check of the living room and kitchen. Then continued with all the smaller rooms: movie theatre, visitor bathroom, laundry. Even the spa/sauna room. Finally, the double garage, since it had an internal access. I confirmed its doors were also closed.

No one. The place was empty. I was finally safe.

Now that I could really begin to relax, I started thinking: should I call the Police? Should I call my husband? I hesitated. Do I really want them to find out? If they do, it will start a huge enquiry that will be sure to go public. Everyone will know what happened. What had been done to me: to my body. Do I want that? This was too big a decision to make right now, I decided.

I was sore, still physically tired. But weirdly, I also felt invigorated. A strange joy seemed to fill me. What had really happened to me to cause me to feel this way?

For the first time I looked down at myself. I was still naked and had walked around the apartment like this, without a care in the world. This was not me! I never went naked... anywhere. Ever. When I was younger, I didn't even bathe naked. We had certain "bathing clothes" for that. Naked flesh was wrong, we were told by our parents.

So, why wasn't I remotely concerned now?

My thinking of bathing triggered a desire to have a bath. Not a shower: a bath. I wanted to soak in the hot water, letting my woes drift away. Perhaps then I will be in a better frame of mind to tackle some big decisions.

With that in mind, I headed back upstairs to the haven of my bathroom. When I ran the bath, I added a lot of body salts. I could now smell my body... and the smell of sex was strong. The evidence was crusted around my sex area and had dribbled down my thighs. Again, weirdly, it didn't seem to bother me, except for the strong smell.

As I eased myself into the hot water, I was reminded of the stimulated parts of my body as the hot water engulfed them. My butt was the most obvious, followed by my vagina... no, it's my cunt now, I decided. The lips and clitoris being particularly sensitive to the heat of the water as I sat down. His fingers and fucking had bruised and enflamed them all.

Finally, my breasts. Or, more specifically, my nipples. Damn, they were sensitive now. He had seem to take a real liking to them as he took every opportunity to play with them. No, I admitted, he really abused them with his pulling, twisting and pinching. Then, those things he attached to them. The pain. It just seemed to make them harder than ever. When he also licked, sucked and bit them gently, I was sure I was going to have a seizure of some sort.

How could any nice girl enjoy that? Why had I enjoyed that?

As I lay back in the wonderful water, soap suds covering up to my neck, I pondered what had happened in to me in that last episode with... my Master. I shuddered as I mentioned him.

The massage had been divine: simply bliss. Yes, I would have to get Steve to give me a massage somehow. That was something I wanted repeated.

When he moved me off the bed and on to my knees, my hands cuffed behind my bath, I felt so... so... subservient to him. Then he got me to open my mouth... and he place his penis... no, his cock, on my tongue and made me taste him.

I almost squealed with the initial memory. It tasted of... my cunt... and it felt very large as he held my head steady and began pushing it in to my mouth. He slowly got deeper, telling me how and when to breathe. Then letting me rest briefly before carrying on. Deeper and deeper. What did he say he was doing? Face fucking me? Plus he kept saying how good I was at it. I was a natural slut... and this is what sluts did, or something. Why would that make me feel proud, I wondered?

It went on for quite a while, he told me, because I was so good. In fact, he thought he would bring some of his friends over sometime for me to service them with my hot, wet mouth. OMG, his praise meant so much to me. Why? I even told him that I would do it. What a slut I must be, to want that, I mentally chastised myself.

All I know was that I was extremely aroused when he stood me up and helped me back on the bed. There I was, kneeling on the bed, with my butt in the air and my face in the bedsheets. Then he told me that he was going to "fuck me like an animal, because sluts loved that".

He was up behind me and I felt his hard thing... his cock, push into my hot, wet, cunt. He slapped my ass twice before starting to fuck me. He pounded into me, nothing gentle about it. Gawd, I loved it. How could I love what he was doing? He pulled me up by my arms and also pulled my head up and back. He OWNED me... and fucked me like his prized animal. How could I love what he was doing?

When he pushed my face back down into the sheets and collapsed on me, I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. I felt his hand reach underneath and grab my poor clitoris and abused it, pinching, pulling, as he fucked me like someone demented.

All the sensations conspired together and I just erupted, like the slut he had made me.

I found I could breathe and lay there with him on top until he recovered and lifted himself off. Weirdly, I enjoyed his weight holding me down on the bed. He just... possessed me.

I was his possession. Right then, he could do anything he wanted with me.

...

Christina continues

I sighed as I dribbled soapy water over my abused body. Remembering what had happened only a short while ago seemed to change the way I viewed them. He had raped me, didn't he? He had forced me to do all those things. So, why had I enjoyed them so much?

He loved to talk to me. Non-stop. Telling me what a slut I was... and how my body was going to enjoy the things he had planned for it. But he also asked a few questions that I couldn't answer. Like... why didn't I do these things with my loving husband? Why didn't I suck my husband's cock? Why hadn't I let him massage me? He said all husbands wanted, what was it... a whore in the bedroom? Why couldn't I let myself go, with my wonderful husband? I half-pie remembered my husband asking me to... DO... things with him. To touch his cock. He even wanted to kiss me... down there. I had told him No, it's a dirty, filthy act and good girls didn't do that sort of thing. Only whores.

Was I a whore? My Master said I was a slut: a natural born slut who was good at sucking cock and fucking but would be better with more practice. That I had a hot body, just made for fucking. That he would always want to place with and abuse my nipples if I were his wife. Damn, all my life I've had to cover and protect my breasts and nipples because they were so sensitive. I was ashamed of them and my Master tells me... they are fantastic. That my husband must love playing with them. When all along, I had never let him nor anyone else touch them, I was so ashamed of them.

I sighed again as I began washing my hair. I wanted to be clean, all over, for when my husband came home. I wanted to wash my Master away from me completely.

What had he done to me in that last session, just before he left?

It was all a bit hazy, even now. He had rolled me over on to my back, quickly unclipped my wrists and reattached them to the bedhead before I even noticed they were free.

When he pulled that thing out... that butt plug, I hoped it was all over. But no.

He reinserted something else. It was thinner... and longer, I think. He pushed it in and out a few times. It gave me a strange feeling. It was almost... pleasurable, I remembered. I also remembered thinking he was just doing anything he wanted to my body and all I could do was lay there and take it. I felt helpless: my body totally under his control.

I recognised the feeling of those ball things that he enjoyed putting in me. In to my cunt. It was getting easier and easier to say that word. So dirty and filthy and degrading. Cunt!

They were not vibrating when he first put them in... but somehow I knew that wouldn't last long.

His fingers latched on to my traitorous nipples again... I swear they must have a direct attachment right to my... cunt. They betrayed me by immediately getting all hard and erect. I could feel them aching with their arousal. He pulled them: he twisted them. He pinched them. Finally his mouth latched on to one and he sucked it and nipped at it with his teeth. Then the other nipple got the same treatment.

Oh, the shame of what I said. I heard myself begging him... actually begging him... to bite them harder. I remember groaning with the wave of pleasure... no, pain... what was I saying? I didn't want him to do it. Did I? But... the feeling was amazing.

When he stopped, I knew what to expect... and he didn't disappoint me. Those attachment things were placed back on each nipple. I just moaned and moaned with the sensations.

I was stretched out on the bed, hands cuffed above my head to the headboard, things attached to my nipples, ball things in my cunt... and a dildo or something inserted in my ass. With every heart beat I could feel a small wave of something race through my body. The sensations from all those different points seemed to focus, to concentrate in my nervous system, or something. I don't know. My whole body felt as if it were throbbing in a unified way. Throb... throb... throb.

I felt him touch the thing in my ass... and it commenced vibrating! Then the ball things in my cunt came alive and began vibrating also. Oh my gawd. My body just began reacting. The throbbing seemed to ramp up 5 fold. I heard myself, moaning at my Master, asking him to stop.

He just laughed and I heard him say, "I'll be back shortly slut."

"Please don't leave me like this, Master," I had pleaded.

I distinctly remember his reply when he told me, "Learn to love it, slut. This is your reward... for being a good slut. A very good slut. Ride that wave of pleasure," he had said, then he was gone.

...

Christina continues.

I didn't know how long he would be gone for. Initially I didn't care: just happy that I was left alone. That soon changed.

The throbbing continued and I could feel my body heating up. Like exercising but without the exercise, if you know what I mean. As the minutes passed I found my breathing getting faster and I had to breathe deeper to try to keep control of myself. I was failing and I knew it.

The throbbing seemed to be in waves now. Strong: more relaxed. Stronger: slightly relaxed. Stronger still: not so relaxed.

In my head, my mind's eye... I could see myself. Throbbing, throbbing. The vibrations. Constant. Warmth. Heat. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure or was that pain. Wave after wave. But... and this was the worst part... the waves were never strong enough to allow me to crest them. To reach that height my body sort... to get fulfilment.

I raised my knees to my chest. Mmm that made me feel the vibrator in my butt more. I tried to control my muscles, to get that extra stimulation I wanted. Clenching my abs, release. Clench, release. Not enough.

I also clenched my asshole, tightening its grip on the vibrator. Interesting. Felt good. Clench, release. Clench, release. Still not enough.

I tried to do both abs and ass at the same time. Couldn't do it. Breathe deeper, I told myself.

By now I could feel the sweat forming on my body and I tried rocking my torso back and forth. Mmm my knees were hitting my nipples. That caused more stimulation on the nipples. I rocked back and forth, hitting, hitting, hitting... Abs clenching, clenching, clenching. Butthole squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.

It wasn't enough.

I could even smell myself now. Even through the mask thing. I smelt like a wild, feral creature. An animal, wanting to rut. It just made me more frustrated.