The Depths of Lust

All character's are over 18

I had swung my racquet with all my might at the little black ball, I had it, I fucking had it that time!

But I didn't, in pursuit of a challenge in a sport I didn't have more than high school experience in, I had sweated my way around the court to my detriment. The patch of floor I had counted on to be my firm and steadfast friend repelled my body's liquids, my foot pressed firmly above and I slipped, the little black ball sailing over my now prone body.

I didn't even poke a face at the laughs and cat calls coming from behind the squash court glass, I was tired, I was gooey and I was down my yearly bonus to the grinning face that appeared above me. The 'polite hand of help' descended and I took it in one of my own to regain my feet.

Mike had pursed his lips and shook his head, 'Sasha If it had just been darts and snooker you would be spending my bonus right now. Good thing we drew my sport out the hat last. Now I get to take my wife on a trip to the Bahamas.'

I wanted to make some sort of jovial 'next time Mike, next time.' but I was gassed and so I just leant over and puffed for a bit before straightening my forty five year old frame and staggering out into the corridor so the next two idiots could battle it out.

The pool soothed the ego and the sauna after soothed the muscles. It was quiet when it got late and I was left alone to my thoughts, 'Two more years at the company and I will take my daughter Katey away to Europe for some life experience, see a bit of the world.' Bout time anyway, such a book worm, she was almost old enough to drink, in some countries well past allowed. Did she use her privilege's? No! I think the most wild thing I ever saw her do was skinny dip in the back yard when she thought no one was home.

My musings were broken into by the attendant coming by to check the sauna was empty, they turfed me out with their fingers held up in the 'five minutes' count which I took to mean, five minutes to get dressed or get shut in.

I preferred it when there was no one in the changing room to ogle me, I know I am not supposed to care about other women but they are not covered in scars and tattoos of a nature I would rather keep to myself. In sharing that fact you might as well know I got them from a very long mistake, I wish I hated it entirely but I didn't and so I have hesitated to go get therapy about it.

Instead I guiltily masterbate every week when the pressures of the office get too much.

The long mistake in question was going away on my eighteenth birthday with a rich forty year old man to be his sex slave. It was willing, mostly, the mostly part was when it was good, him, myself, a few others my own age. The other bit was when we stopped at a port where he quickly found deviants who liked to do things to me that were well past my limits. He would almost always stop it before it marked me up permanently but he wasn't a good judge of character and so he didn't stop a few to my detriment.

When I finally got home in my early twenties having been around the world on a boat several times, I had some scars, mostly emotional but a few physical. The tattoos came next, to hide or work alongside the marks.

By my late twenties I had decided to regain my life, went to University to study Accounting and graduated to work in the industry. From there it got normal, dalliances, followed by marriage to a John, followed by a house, followed by having my child Katey.

I was bored, the husband while loyal and adoring, he was boring. When you have been fucked senseless to over twenty orgasms while suspended in rope between two masts on a boat, a few strawberries and cream picnics are not going to make the grade after a while. I didn't need it all the time, just every now and again? Please? Wreck me? Gag me with your cock till I black out? But even raising the subject of binding my wrists made him look green at the gills.

So, when the man of yesteryear showed up with his boat of deviants still rocking the high seas and called my cell phone, it didn't take me more than ten minutes to make up my mind. I tried to tell myself it took longer to convince me but I was packing my overnight bag before I had even told John I was going out to a friend to give them comfort in their distress.

I was so excited that I forgot to tell one of my friends to cover for me if John rang, but he wouldn't ring, would he? But you know he did.

I think it was when the skinny pimply nineteen year old teenager with the unreasonably long thin cock had just gotten me off with a large vibrator shoved in my arse and in my cunt. He was feeding his cock down my throat and put the headset to my ear. I mean it was sweet of him to try and be helpful but it was really hard to try and keep my voice straight when riding the biggest long overdue cum on the edge. Which I fell off.

'Oh god! Honey! F...F...fu,u,uh, uck!' I drooled and exclaimed into the mouthpiece and he knew. I had only cum like that with him once before, when John had whisked me away from a bad party like some savior angel, it had gotten me hot and bothered and I had forced the car into a park and fucked him on a bus stop bench, right there on the side of the road, traffic whizzing past in the night, while it poured with rain. John hadn't cum, he didn't cum for a few weeks afterwards, he seemed almost shell shocked at what had happened.

All the usual noises 'What if people had seen?' I told him they probably did and then went home and fucked their spouses stupid.

'What if we got arrested? Public indecency?' and I shrugged, 'Not really a career killer for me.'

You are probably wondering why this sexually charged human at least back then ever decided to marry such a stick in the mud and it really comes down to money.

Money of the kind he made bought a whole lot of comfort, and if you think that money can't buy happiness then you a: have not heard of puppies and b: it buys one hellavah class of misery.

So John heard the noises coming out of my mouth that he knew he was never going to hear again and he got mad, for what I assumed was the first time and the last time in my company.

Eventually I returned home, I have to confess I stayed on that boat a long time, fucked a lot of cock and licked a lot of pussy, got annally worn out and was leaking copious amounts of fluid from my arse, pussy and hair. I knew I was going home to a divorce so, why not?

John was waiting for me in the garage and as I parked up and killed the engine he didn't move while the garage door descended. Then like a snake he struck.

Lunged at my driver side door, popped it, produced a knife and cut my seat belt. I actually thought he was going to kill me and so I went to push him away as hard as I could but he grabbed my hair, pulled my head out of the car and slapped me. Then as I was watching the dancing lights, grabbed the front of my dress and dragged me out onto the garage floor.

'You want to be treated like a whore?' Well then, I shall use you like a whore and piss on you like a whore and pay you out like a whore.'

Every time I went to stand he pushed me back down or knocked the legs out from under me, the world now had a garage ceiling for a sky and my back only knew cold concrete for terra firma.

Electrical tape was wrapped around my head, it pulled at my hair and bits of it tickled at the sides of my mouth where he had forced it open to pass the tape between my teeth.

Where he learned to bind ankles and wrists so fast I might never get the chance to ask about, but he was quick, the clarity of sight had not yet come back and so I was effectively immobilized on my own garage floor.

I started to sort of shriek and cry at the same time, he didn't like that too much, his angry face appeared beside mine, 'You want something to cry about? I will give you something to cry about!'

Men are strong, even the ones that are average in size, my husband god bless em' came from the school of 'do you even lift bro?!' and for all his lack of fun was cut. Which just goes to show that we ladies like the looks but it sure isn't everything that gets us going.

John used that strength to flip me onto my front like I was a cat, a very wriggly cat.

But to stop the wriggling he just stood on my neck, it was hard, I heard C1 and C2 finally pop into place after failed expensive chiropractors had given it a good go. If it wasn't for the fact my cheek was getting ground into a mix of concrete and the light haze of motor oil I might have said thanks.

Who am I kidding? Right at that moment I was scared, very very scared. There were no safe words, no fake heightened emotions, his anger was real and I had no idea where it was going to stop.

I felt the cold back of a knife go up my dress, cutting it away raggedly with its partially serrated edge. It cut, caught and tore its way up and then out of the corner of my eye I saw him take a yellow extension cord from the garage bottom shelf. For a moment my mind went to the darkest place possible and assumed he was going to hang me.

I would have wrenched myself at great risk to my neck from under his heel in terror except that the direction I would have gone was the direction of a loop of doubled over yellow extension cord coming down on my arse.

It was hard, I screamed and gurgled through the tape over my mouth. John's voice was cold and angry. 'What?! What was that? A comment on my efficacy or a complaint?'

I managed to whimper 'My neck, I c, ca, can't breathe'.

He took his foot off my neck, 'I can't have you dying, I mean the paperwork is just awful.'

He used his foot to flip me over on to my back, the cool of the floor on the welt on my arse was a surprising relief for all of a few seconds.

I thought my pleading, leaking red rimmed eyes might have an effect on the ice around this man's demeanor but it did not, he smirked, a tilt of the lip that didn't reach his eyes.

'I won't kill you, but I am going to make it perfectly clear why I did not engage with your desires all these years. My own are much, much, darker.'

John pulled me to my feet, he passed the extension cable between my wrists beneath the electrical tape and threw it over the top of the garage door lever struts. I was light enough that I already knew if I took my feet off the floor to swing and pull them down it would have no effect.

He tied it off so that I was on tippy toe, my arse throbbed where he had hit me and it stung as he passed his hands over the red mark. 'Hmm, skin not broken yet, I guess we will see how long that lasts.'

He walked around the front to face me, 'I read all your porn, your wishful thinking with your BDSM, your desires in your diary to be taken by multiple men and women.' I tried to lose his gaze but he grabbed my face in a vice like grip, 'I read all the manuals you 'helpfully left around on how to tie safely, how to build a scene, safe words, limits and all that other fucking bullshit.'

He slapped me with a few taps and then a bit harder, 'All this time I was trying to be a good man, a caring man, one our daughter could trust but I find this in her bedroom!' he held up a BDSM magazine I had not purchased along with a vibrator and a set of rope that I didn't know she had. 'I. Didn't. Teach her that!' he spat as he screamed in my face.

He turned away, 'But, I will teach you the limits of good men.' and he turned back around. 'Scream all you like, I have sent Katey out to her grandparents, and no one is coming up our gated drive except those I am expecting.'

He cut the electrical tape off from around my mouth but didn't pull it off my hair at the back, I knew he would pull it off later, most likely to create a new pain for me to endure.

I wanted to have a good think about what Katey might be into, I had not taught her or supplied her with any of the items waved in my face.

The second thought I wanted to mull over was exactly which books John was thinking of using to demonstrate why he was much worse in his mind than the authors.

I didn't have to wait very long and he was far more creative than I gave him credit for.

John cut away the rest of my dress and then my bra, he didn't seem to be surprised that I didn't have any panties on. The panties were floating somewhere in the night filled harbor I expected. I wanted to enjoy the sensation of cooling cum running down my legs from my pussy and my arse, so I didn't bother to put them back on, I just tossed them over the side of the boat as I left.

He spanked my arse hard with a hand he had licked, then he rubbed Vaseline into my buttocks to make them sticky and then smacked them with his hand again and again.

I yelped each time for a while till he got tired of the sound, 'Tell you what, you keep making that ghoulish sound and I will smack the shit out of your titties every time you do, just to break up the monotony.' and he did, every time I couldn't hold in the whimpers he would go around to my breasts, stroke some sticky Vaseline onto them and then hit them hard from all sides.

It would cause me to convulse with the pain and cause my wrists to ache.

Eventually it became obvious to him that I was going to cry out every time and he stopped.

He left for a moment, left me hanging there with my hands above my head in a haze of pain and dread.

John returned with a bottle of water with a hook spout that we used to water the hanging plants in the hallway, he shoved the hook in my mouth and squeezed, I was forced to swallow, spit or drown. I chose to swallow and then it hit me that I needed to pee. It took me no time at all to figure out that I was not going to be let down to pee.

He checked my wrists to see if I was losing circulation and satisfied he brought out a large bucket we used for washing the dog back when we had one. He pulled my legs up and placed them inside. Then with a new extension cable he looped around one of my legs and tied it to the bumper on the back of his SUV, then another cable and tied it to the shelving rack on the wall.

John cut the tape holding my ankles together and pulled my legs apart over the bucket.

'If you need to piss or shit, go for it.' Then he left again.

I heard him rustling in the bushes outside the garage door, then the side door opened and he came back dragging something under one arm which he dropped behind me, it made the sound of a few hula hoops being dropped in a pile. 'Oh fuck, it's the hose.' I thought.

Correct! Though hosing me down was not on his mind.

John came back and he took advantage of my spread state, 'I would fuck you, let me rephrase that, I am going to fuck you, but only after I rinse all the muck off you and...out of you.'

He brought the hose pipe end with the power nozzle attached and opened it to the 'on' position, then he went back out the side door to turn the tap on, he turned it hard, because the water shot out of the power nozzle and caused the end to splash water all over the place as the force smashed into every object in the room including myself.

I considered its force with greater and greater dawning horror, was he going to put that inside me at full stream like that?

Apparently he was not, he came in and observed the mess the watery snake was making on the garage floor and he turned it down to at least half of what it had just been.

Still not great but now unlikely to kill me from internal damage.

John trooped in and I could see behind him now the slight tinge of rising dawn. It would bring a warm day this summer, I wonder if I would live to see it.

He grabbed the power jet end and twisted it off, 'When this gets turned back on again, it is going to hurt like fuck as the back log of pressure adjusts, so get ready for that.'

I was going to ask for mercy but I saw the look in his eye, asking at this point before his anger had started to cool would just piss him off more. Nothing to do but grit my teeth and bare it.

John must have lubed up the end of the power nozzle because it slid up my anus fairly easily.

'And a one and a two and a ....' he turned it on, I felt the pipe jump as the head jumped as the pressure build up unleashed in my arse. It hurt. I tried to kick my feet to deal with the pain as the water smashed its way up my colon. Then it equalized and the water continued to run till I felt like I would burst, I started to kick again as I thought my tummy would break but he pulled it free stepping quickly to the side and a small tide of water, feces and cum gushed out of my rectum, half hitting the bucket and half hitting the floor behind it, he screwed up his face at the mess and then shrugged, 'That is what floor drains are for I guess,' and shoved the hose back up inside me, this time it had been on the whole time and so the pain of the first turning on was not present but soon I felt myself kicking my feet asking for the hose to be taken out again, which he did. Another gush of liquid, this time pretty clean.

He came around to my face and grabbed my jaw in that grip of his, 'Not healthy to go from arse to cunt, so lick it clean.' and he shoved the dribbling end into my mouth, I did my best and honestly the water had washed away almost every trace of fecal matter from the tip but I started to lose my ability to breath and tried to tear my face away which he eventually allowed to leave me spluttering trying to suck down oxygen.

This time it was for my vagina 'You don't need any extra lube, I can see the cum glistening on your thighs, it will do.' and he parted my outer lips by wiggling the nozzle back and forth till he found the opening and pushed it up. The constant stream of water gave it enough lubrication that I would have been surprised if I got a tear.

I felt it fill me up, my womb bulged a little before I whimpered in pain and the hose was pulled free. Then after the deluge up it went again and once again I felt myself being stretched inside.

I did pee, I took my chance into the stream of water headed for the bucket because who knew when I would get another chance?

I started to shiver then, the water coursing over me, my feet in a bucket, the abuse both willing and unwilling was starting to take its toll.

I think I passed out, because when I woke I was warm, on my stomach on the rug in the lounge.

I went to move and found that while I could bring any one of my arms and legs to examine, they were all cable tied to ropes that lead to various heavy pieces of furniture.

Furniture passed down to John by his grandmother, you know, the really heavy overly carved monolithic stuff that if I did perchance get to move, it would likely crush me to death.

I saw that the mirror from our bedroom was down beside me and I could see myself laying there on the living room rug, almost naked. I had been dressed in a slutty school girl outfit, knee high socks, a very short skirt that didn't fully cover my arse made from cutting up what had been a beautiful long plaid knee length, the ragged edges of where the kitchen draw scissors had hacked it short tickled my bum cheeks and I had a white blouse that has been shortened at the midriff held together by only two burgeoning buttons. I didn't have a garment of this type so tight so it must have come from my daughters room.

John was cooking in the kitchen, humming to himself, I could hear him using a metal spatula on my non-stick cookware, John was making pancakes with bacon, the smell was delightful and I found myself salivating and my stomach pressed against the carpet was beginning to rumble.

It must have been loud because he heard it over the pan, 'I will be over to feed you once I am done here.' his cold voice came over the kitchen lounge divider.

He finished making a mess, turned on some classical music and sat to eat at the dining room table. He took his time, made and drank a fine plunger coffee while reading the paper.