Martin's Game

"You look so perfect... no really Marilyn, you do... but then, I knew that you would. Come on out, don't be shy, let me see you."

The older woman stepped forward tentatively, as she was bid, gazing at the floor. Marilyn felt silly and embarrassed, standing in front of a stranger, dressed like this. She could feel his eyes on her and her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Oh yes Marilyn... so elegant and refined... now do a little walk around for me!"

The manageress walked, slowly past the counter to the end of the shop, in her stockinged feet, trying to peer through the windows into the night beyond. Was someone out there? If they could see her, dressed up like this, they would surely know that something was wrong, wouldn't they? She turned and walked slowly back, feeling silky material of the dress move around her hips and legs, sliding over her satin lingerie as she walked. The sensation only served to magnify her feelings of vulnerability.

"Something's missing... hmmm!.... Shoes!"

He walked over to the window display and, at first, seemed undecided, looking back at the manageress, in her stockinged feet.

"These, I like these... find your size Marilyn... perfect!"

He held up a white, court shoe with an ankle band and 5" heel. The older woman tried to avoid the proposition, without upsetting him. Truthfully she hadn't worn heels that high for years and even if she had a chance to run, the heels would make it impossible.

"Those are very nice sir, but there are others that would perhaps be more... complimentary to..."

"Are you criticising my taste Marilyn?"

She flinched slightly.

"Oh no, no... of course not, but..."

"Then go and find your size and do as you are told!"

She thought that his voice contained subdued menace as well as authority, the frightened older woman immediately found the shoes and sat down to strap them on.

"Now walk!"

The roles had now completely reversed since their first meeting an hour ago. The younger man was the confident, dominant one, Marilyn, fearful and unsure, followed his direction.

The elegantly dressed manageress placed her feet carefully for fear of stumbling in the unfamiliar new shoes, but regained her poise after a while. There had been a time when such shoes would have been exactly what she liked to wear. She knew that she had no control over the effects that such high shoes had on her legs. The heels sculpted her nyloned calves and pushed out her round bottom, which now swayed invitingly, under her silk dress, as she walked away from him. The only sounds were the soft swishing of her nylons and the click of the high heels. Marilyn shivered recalling that she had once heard them referred to with the uncouth term, 'fuck-me-heels'. Oh god, what was she going to do?

"Stand still"

It was an order not a request. The young man walked around her slowly, looking her up and down. Marilyn's eyes remained fixed forward, avoiding his, mannequin like, motionless.

"You know what I hate most about stuck-up, rich bitches... like you..."

He stopped in front of her, his voice was low and his eyes locked onto hers and then she felt unable to look away..

"... What really pisses me off, is that they think that they're so fucking superior, so much better than everybody else! You did didn't you... thought that I was a nobody, with no money, not even worthy of walking in your posh shop!"

Marilyn thought this is it, he's going to kill me, if I don't try to appeal to him.

" Please, please... don't do this...!"

Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Marilyn, I can tell from everything about you... your perfect hair, perfume, make up, your posh accent and the way you wear those clothes, even, under duress, with all this stress... I can see that you look so fucking effortlessly, confident and elegant. You fucking stuck-up bitch! Your kind make me so fucking angry... You need to be taught a lesson!"

Marilyn, tried to stay in control, but terror made her voice waver.

"I'm not like that, really.... please, I can see that your not a bad person, you just need help..."

Martin thought immediately of the institutions who had tried to help him in the past... and Helen, his posh, mature social worker.. What "fun" she had been.

"Look, I've done everything you asked.... please, I'm not a... stuck-up bitch... I'm really not... please let me go!"

He stared into her eyes blankly and she felt her stomach flip.

"Are you saying that you are not like them Marilyn?"

"No, really.... I don't think that I"m better than you, or anyone really...!"

Martin regarded the older woman steadily.

"What would you do if I said that I'd let you go Marilyn?"

The manageress blinked, taken by surprise at the prospect of escape.

"Wh-what! I... what do you mean?"

"It's a simple question Marilyn, what will you do for me, if I agree to let you go?"

Without thinking, the desperate, terrorized woman blurted out an answer

"I just want to go home, please... I'll do anything, just let me go!"

There were a few seconds passed in silence while they both let the words sink in. He was staring with those blank eyes again, he allowed them to travel up and down her figure. He knew that he had this beautiful, classy, older lady, exactly where he wanted her.

"I promise that I will let you go... but from this point on you will do everything I tell you!"

With no other options, Marilyn's mind hung on to the promise and despite misgivings, she nodded silently.

"I'm afraid that's just not good enough... what I want for this game is your best, ultra professional, polite, smiling, 'service'. You will do everything you possibly can to please me, because I'm the most important customer you've ever had in your life, is that clear Marilyn?"

His voice was calm and firm and he was very much in control, she felt compelled to do as he said. Without a fight or flight option, her mind seemed to have adopted a kind of freeze response. Marilyn's world had quickly dwindled down to the confines of a shop, on a darkened and increasingly empty street. Everywhere and everyone else had faded and the two leading actors were all that remained in the spotlight. Nothing else seemed important now except survival, which she was acutely aware, depended on pleasing her co-star with her performance. The older woman, hesitated only briefly before answering.

"Yes, I understand... Sir?

The strange, unnerving smile, which had left his pale, young face looking so immobile and stern, flickered back into life.

"Good girl. Now go over to lovely, polished counter and stand this side facing it"

To his immense pleasure, the manageress quietly complied. Walking, self-consciously, over to the shop counter, which was so familiar, but standing on the customer side, placing her hands on the wooden top.

Now... Bend over it!"

Martin felt his dark desire lurch, as the formerly haughty, mature woman, lowered her upper body down to meet the wooden surface. The attractive older lady remained very still, not wishing to antagonise him and waited, compliantly, for her next command. He had watched intently, as the she had walked towards the counter, the heels meant that she was unable to prevent her round bottom swaying enticingly beneath the silky, diaphanous folds of the dress. In the silence he could hear the swish of her nylon legs against each other and the soft rustle of the satin underwear. Martin felt his penis strain and pulse within the tight confines of his jeans, because he was now in total command.

She was now facing away from him, as he walked up behind her and stood gazing down on her. Marilyn could hear her heart pounding over the soft sound of his footsteps, in the deserted, dimly lit shop, as he had approached her. She was desperately trying to finish his crazy game, so he would leave, as promised.

"I want you to put your feet together, stretch your arms across the counter and arch your back forwards... that's good, now push that nice, big arse as high as possible... Yeah, show me your arse Marilyn, present it to me.... lovely, just like a whore... a classy whore!"

Marilyn cringed inwardly, at being referred to in such terms, but she attempted to adjust her position, her heels made her wobble slightly and then she held herself as still as possible, in the provocative position. What really turned Martin on was that, this beautifully dressed, mature lady, had assumed such a provocative position, seamed stocking, legs and heels close together, silk Draped bum, invitingly pushed out, just because he had ordered her to.

"Oh yes Marilyn, that's it... Well well, what a little secret slut you are!"

Her breath caught and her eyes widened as the manageress felt his hand touch her bottom, still sensitive from it's earlier abuse. With an apparently disembodied life of it's own, it began insolently, to explore over her rounded derrière encased in expensive silk. The married lady had no choice whatsoever, she was being forced to submit to the sexual caress of a strange man. Because of this, she gave up any thought of resistance and reluctantly, she found the touch was not entirely unpleasant, as the movement of his fingers pressed and stroked the soft, lacy material into and across her sensitive skin. As one slippery garment slid over another, she felt the creamy complexion of her cheeks begin to grow hot again, from embarrassment, but also as a result of the enforced, erotic stroking hands. Yet it wasn't just the physical sensation of the unfamiliar clothes and the intimate stroking and touch. Marilyn could almost feel, his fingers and the way that he touched her, his almost overpowering desire. For the first time in her, relatively refined life, the thought of being forced to submit to a sexually dominant male, began to make the married lady feel uncomfortably moist.

"Oh!"

The word escaped as the sound of an unexpected slap broke silence of the shop. It was not a really hard slap, in fact by comparison with the earlier beating, it was quite gentle. So, despite the indignity, the older woman, felt compelled to remain bent over the counter, as she had been told. Reasoning to herself that this game had yo be played out.

The next slap was still manageable. It seemed that the aim was some form of ritual humiliation, rather than pain.

"That's a good little bitch, just accept your punishment"

Smack!

"Because all bitches like you need to be put in their place..."

Smack!

You're being spanked because you're a stuck up rich snob... "

Smack!

This was not at all like the frenzied, angry blows of her previous spanking, Marilyn thought, that if this was to be his game, then she would take the least painful option of playing the role he wanted!

"...with a bitchy, posh accent..."

"Oh please Sir, I'm sorry!"

Smack!

"...and a smug, superior attitude... "

"Please Sir, I'm sorry, please stop!"

Smack!

"I'll say when we stop, not you... you're sorry for being a posh, stuck up bitch now are you?"

Smack!

"Who's the boss?"

"Oww! You are Sir!"

That one was harder, thought Marilyn... my roleplaying may be a little too realistic, he's getting too excited.

"Damned right! I own you now!"

Smack!

"Aahhh! No... Please don't...SIR!"

There was another, even sharper, stinging slap across her crimson cheeks. No. That was enough, she'd tried to play along, but her tender bottom was really beginning to smart again.

Marilyn couldn't take any more and tried to rise. Martin seemed to be ready for her and he grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and seizing her flailing arm with his other hand, he twisted it up behind her back. It was as if he had goaded her into rebelling.

"Oww! Stop...ahhh!... please! Nnoo!"

Martin didn't speak, he knew that he was completely in control and he was becoming very aroused. He calmly held the struggling woman pinned against the heavy counter, with his burgeoning erection lodged tightly between the manageress's buttocks. The sight of the classy, older woman, in her expensive dress, squirming hopelessly, beneath him was the stuff of his dark, erotic fantasy world. The sight and sensation of his achingly hard bulge bumping and grinding into the lovely older woman's soft, silky rump, brought flashes of intense pleasure through his groin.

Marilyn's energy and resistance began to subside and finally she lay passively, pinned over the counter, breathing hard. When Martin was satisfied that her will to resist had been broken, he eased the pressure, but didn't release his victim and he remained hard against her upended arse.

"Don't try that again you silly bitch, much as I enjoyed it, or I will really hurt you... I can do anything I want to you and you can't stop me... Do you understand?"

The woman beneath him remained sullenly, silent.

Martin twisted the woman's arm slightly further up her back to hold her in place and releasing her neck, administered a very sharp, stinging slap on her already smarting rear.

"Aahhh!"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes!"

Another resounding Slap!

"Ooowww... Sob!"

"Yes what Marilyn?"

The manageress fought back tears of pain and humiliation and gave him what she knew he wanted.

"Yes Sir! I understand Sir! Please stop...*

"Spread your legs!".

His voice was forceful, authoritarian and held no hint of comprise. The older woman hesitated, with brief indecision, because of the crude implication of his command, until she felt again, the force of another meaty slap.

"Arrgh... Oh god... I'm sorry Sir!"

Marilyn quickly shuffled her high heels wide apart and closed her eyes against the sting of spanking. She had never been treated in anything like this way in her life, her willpower and sense of self was slipping away. All thoughts of escape and even of the outside world had gone now. There was only here,now and doing what she what she was ordered to do.

"Don't be sorry you stupid, stuck-up slut. Just do as you are told. Now stay there and don't you dare move a muscle!"

For a few seconds nothing happened, she couldn't see, but she knew that he was watching her, testing her obedience. Then she felt the hand stroke lightly over her tender buttocks again, where it had, seconds before inflicted harsh punishment. At first even the light pressure on her throbbing buttocks caused her discomfort, but she maintained her position, legs apart, body flat on the counter. The married woman felt vulnerable and exposed. She had been unable stop herself from flinching at the touch of his hand on her bottom, however light. He was standing very close behind her and she now felt both of his hands exploring her shamefully, upturned bottom. Martin, unseen by Marilyn, allowed himself a smirk, as he took advantage of his submissive victim. Bending down, he loosely wrapped his long fingers around each of her ankles and began to slowly glide them up over her calves, which swelled out because of the high heels. The sensation of his fingers on the glossy nylons made his penis pulse again and his pants were wet with pre-cum. His excitement at having his fantasy woman, dressed up exactly how he wanted her, doing exactly as he told her, was beyond belief. Soon his hands were under the dress and, as they continued their journey, Martin felt first the tickle of the lacy hem and then the cool satin, of the slip bunching over the back of his hands, as his fingertips brushed over the smooth, wide stocking tops and taut, rear suspenders. Marilyn shuddered as his warm fingers lingered over the sensitive, smooth skin of her inner thighs. Her heart was hammering and her breathing was fast and shallow, she felt faint, as she anticipated the ultimate destination of those relentless fingers. Then they scooped in between her parted thighs and boldly cupped the older woman's hot, damp vagina through the satin knickers. Marilyn closed her eyes and tried not to make a sound, but a soft gasp escaped her lips. The young man's grin widened.

"You like that Marilyn... Hmm?"

His fingers pressed the satin into her slit as they rubbed back and forth.

"Nnno!" Said Marilyn through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I think you do... "

"Please... stop it!"

"... Because underneath all those expensive clothes, make-up..."

"Please..."

"... Perfect manners and posh voice... You are just a cheap... nasty... slut!"

Marilyn lay mutely prostrate across her shop counter, frozen with conflicting emotions. Fear certainly, but her physical arousal confused her, nothing that this middle-class lady had ever believed or expected had prepared her for it, which seemed to weld her into immobility. Even as she was being abused, Marilyn continued to hold her quivering body obediently, in the position which he had told her to. She simply waited, devoid of any rebellion, for this warped youth finish pawing her, why? Now the fingers became more insistent, as they snaked inside the loose leg of the French knickers... Marilyn ground out a partly restricted squeal, gripping the edge of the wooden counter, as her moist, puffy outer lips were easily parted and his slim fingers slid up inside her. Her young tormentor laughed cruelly at her repressed discomfort.

"Oh Marilyn... soaking wet! What would your husband think..? If he only knew that his prim and proper, wife's posh cunt got wet when she was spanked and treated like a slut, by a stranger!".

"No... No... it's not true...!"

The crudity of the verbal jibes had finally stung enough to make the manageress try to rise up again, but she was confused, weak and her legs shaky Marilyn squirmed pathetically in his grip and was subdued with ease. Martin held her in place with one hand disdainfully and with the other, deliberately undid his belt and jeans.

"No, no, no please..!"

First the expensive, silk dress and then her slip were pulled up and thrown carelessly over her head.

"Don't... Please... Noo!"

She cried out as the flimsy protection of the satin French knickers, was ripped away and they were unceremoniously, wrenched down quickly to her knees. Despite the screeching protests, Martin knew his control over the older woman was now complete and, although he had greatly enjoyed the haughty woman's gradual humiliation, he now needed release.

"Shut up... You know you want this... you fucking prick teasing whore!"

His hand pressed her feebly resistant upper body into counter top as he lodged his hot, throbbing cock into her unprotected entrance.

"Ugghh! Oh, yeah! Good girl... just stop struggling...!

Through the shock and confusion of the sexual assault, Marilyn's middle-class outrage wailed, as she felt his hot, blunt penis violate her.

"Ohhhhh! God.... stop! No... don't you dare... Nooooo...aaahhh!"

Her words trailed off into a despairing groan.

Martin took the greatest satisfaction in finally sliding his achingly, swollen boner, fully into Marilyn's high class snatch, up to his heavy balls. The older woman's well kept, but neglected pussy, felt wonderfully hot, wet and tight around his rock hard 7" shaft. He purposely slid it slowly back out and hard back in again, relishing every second of it, after holding himself back for so long. He had badly wanted this since he had entered the shop. However, it was the feeling of power as he gazed down at the lovely, mature woman, dressed so finely, like a high class lady, in silk and lace, with her creamy, white upturned buttocks quivering with every thrust, that really excited Martin. She was his.

Marilyn felt every contour of her rapist's hard, young penis, so different to her husband's. Despite the fact that she was being raped and her token attempts at resistance, the married woman felt ashamed at ease with which her middle aged pussy had been penetrated.

The older woman didn't remember ever experiencing such a powerful sexual response in all of her life, certainly not with her husband. She, eventually, gave up all efforts to struggle and lay draped in total submission beneath her assailant, allowing herself to be used.