The Power of Lust Ch. 04

Writhing and wriggling on her bed Judy slipped her hand inside her panties, working her fingers against her clit. Her skirt was bunched up over her hips and the slight incline of her head allowed her to see herself through the large bedroom mirror. Though sex, and communication, with her husband Ben had marginally improved he remained distant and self-absorbed. However, there was something else that troubled the young housewife. Her recent experience, indulging in acts of extreme sex with groups of men had left her with a strong desire to want to explore other delights.

Ben, she had learnt, appeared to harbour a secret fetish; he became aroused from knowing she had been with other men. Incredibly, and bizarrely, he didn't seem to want to be told too much detail, instead preferring to take pleasure from his own mental images, picturing the events of her adultery in the way that he knew would arouse him. At least that's how it seemed to Judy. Ben had never become angry, in fact the only negative sign Judy detected was his apparent disappointment when he had examined her underwear when she returned from an evening out -- disappointment that there were no telltale stains that his wife had indulged in a repeat performance.

Sometimes Ben laid out clothing on the bed, often when she went for a shower or late in the evening, indicating that he wanted her to dress in the chosen outfit. He would not talk about it and was quick to stifle any attempt by Judy to get him to open up. Sometimes he would make her stand in front of him, then slowly lift her skirt uncovering her stocking tops, or he would make her lean over the bed or a chair, like he wanted to see her as the men had done. Often he would unfasten his fly and simply ask her to undo her blouse; Judy would know he really wanted her to rearrange her clothing, to also bunch up her skirt, show him how she looked to the men -- she would lift her tits from her bra cups before giving her husband a look that said she had been very naughty, and she now felt guilty. This made Ben moan and groan under his breath, his wrist would move faster, pulling hard on his cock; it was almost a game where Judy's voluntary demonstration of how she appeared with the men worked better than words, giving Ben a tremendously powerful sexual thrill.

Other times she would wait until his arousal built up making his impatience unbearable, forcing him to direct her, though his words were few, his orders brief.

"Skirt!" he would mumble.

She would stand, slide her hemline up to her waist, showing her husband that to begin with, this was what she did with the men; more graphically she would then go and stand against the wall, spreading her legs wide. 'Blouse' would make her undo her buttons, lift her tits free, then use hands to play with her nipples.

One night, when she stood against the wall, legs spread and tits dangling, she revealed a shocking piece of information that almost made her husband loose control and ejaculate -- she stretched both arms out to her side at waist height and curled her fingers, gently jerking both wrists to and fro, simulating how she simultaneously masturbated two men; then she moved her hips back and forth indicating that, at the very same time she was being fucked by another man.

On hearing the word 'Panties' she would pull apart her gusset then turn her arse toward him bending forward indicating how she was taken from behind. Sometimes she would hitch up her skirt and thrust her hand down the waistband of her panties.

Judy always tried to make sure Ben's sperm wasn't wasted, by picking her moment to sink to her knees, finishing him off in her mouth. When he did fuck her she tried hard to gaud him into communicating with her by taunting him, slapping her own arse then bending over invitingly to be fucked doggy fashion; she would whisper, 'Most of them did it this way!' When he faced her, say, screwing up against the wall, she would remind him, "Four of them -- there were four men."

Always, by next morning, he was back to being unemotional and surly. That, she considered, was a grave mistake, because had he opened up their marriage could have taken the right course; now by his neglect he had given her time to stew, and dwell on the thoughts and desires that lay deep in the darker dirty recesses of her mind -- Judy needed to be used and abused -- and she wanted cock.

In her everyday world Judy remained the quiet spoken shy nervy housewife who would giggle when speaking; which is what she did when, one afternoon a man approached her. She had been sipping tea in a café while out shopping in the local mall. A man, sitting a few tables away caught her eye, mainly due to the fact that he kept staring at her, even smiling when she gave him a disapproving look. When the man stood up she initially felt relieved that he would be leaving -- then, to her shock and horror, Judy realised who he was -- she recognised the man as the voyeur who had been in the factory yard! To her further horror, the man didn't leave but instead came across and parked his body next to her, sitting at her table.

"Are you pretending you don't remember who I am -- where we last met?"

Judy was unsettled, "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Shall I remind you of what you were doing?"

Then came the nervous giggle, "No, please leave me alone."

"I've always hoped you'd come back to the factory yard again one day; you seemed to enjoy that little escapade."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Judy, unsure how to react and almost panicking, "What the hell do you do down there -- spend your life waiting for someone to spy on? Pervert!"

The man sniggered, looking her in the eye. Of course she had just admitted who she was.

"Yes I do spend lots of time down there -- it's my bloody factory -- I've bought the place and I've got a workshop down there. You were having sex in my yard, on my property so you were invading my privacy -- and as you chose to do that I reserve the right to come and watch!"

Judy felt very embarrassed.

"I'm very sorry," she said meekly.

The man looked intently at her, "You're different than I expected," he said looking thoughtful, though smiling.

"What do you mean," Judy asked, avoiding his gaze, giving way to her habitual adolescent sounding giggle.

"Let's say, you're less flighty."

He had been surprised to note that Judy was far from being the extrovert seductress, the coarse slutty type, perhaps loud-mouthed and whore-like. Instead, he saw that the woman before him was a shy quiet-spoken neatly dressed still-married housewife -- he had noticed the ring on her finger.

Avoiding direct questions in case he should scare or embarrass her he spoke softly hoping she'd warm to him. When he sensed she had begun to relax a little he decided to risk what he hoped would sound like a light-hearted comment.

"It's a shame your lover never brought you back to the yard!"

Judy hesitated before answering, "He wasn't a regular lover."

Now she felt this man, whom she had never spoken to before, knew her hidden, darkest secrets. He had been just a man, almost unreal, simply a man who voyeuristically watched her having sex in the front of a pick-up truck -- a man who had added to her pleasure by taking out his cock and masturbating in full view, turning her into a voyeur: he should have remained a memory, just an image in her mind -- but now they sat at the same table, discussing her extra-marital sexual adventure.

"Sorry, I wasn't prying. By the way, I know you're called Judy now -- I didn't tell you my name -- I'm Les."

Judy gave a nod and a half-smile -- she felt she needed to say more.

"It was just something that happened," she told her new friend, "I think I let myself be carried away with flattery and, well, it seemed exciting at the time. I don't lead a very eventful or interesting life; my husband you see, doesn't let me work, and we don't socialise together very much. You must think I'm a terrible woman."

"Not at all," reassured Les, "Something is missing in your life that you obviously enjoy - and you found a way to satisfy your yearning."

"You make my behaviour sound reasonable and rational!" Judy said, with her usual girlish nervous giggle.

"What gives your husband the right to deny you the pleasure you enjoy from sex?" Les asked, rhetorically. He smiled comfortingly, "And I know very well that you do enjoy sex -- you enjoy it very much."

Judy's cheeks glowed red making her look rapidly around the room as though she was scared others might overhear.

"I know you'd like more than just a brief Saturday night 'bonk' in the missionary position!"

"Please don't -- you're making me feel very embarrassed," giggled Judy, "What an outlandishly audacious man you are!"

"I'm right though -- yes?"

"Yes," Judy admitted instantly and honestly without thinking.

"And that's why you were in my factory yard," stated Les in a whisper whose tone seemed to convey the fact that he knew what made her tick. "You liked the thrill, the dirtiness of the workman's pick-up truck -- rough and ready, forbidden place, forbidden man -- all added to the excitement -- and knowing that another man was watching, masturbating -- was icing on the cake! That's what you like! Am I right Judy?"

For the final question the man softened his tone.

The housewife forced herself to lift her eyes and look directly at the man who could see inside her soul. She nodded her head. "I think I can sense something else, Judy, " he said maintaining a fixed stare.

She didn't ask what and instead tried to control her trembling hands; her stomach filled with butterflies.

"In fact I know for sure -- you'd like me to take you somewhere, to the factory: no questions asked, no explanations needed."

He watched how Judy quivered, licked her dry lips: she didn't reply -- but neither did she argue deny nor storm off.

"Come with me," the strange man ordered calmly, "Follow me."

He stood and walked to the counter paying the bill before leaving the café, the timid housewife walked just behind him, staying two paces to his rear as they made their way to the roof-top car-park, not wanting him to see the confused mixture of terror and excitement that contorted the expression on her face. Silently and obediently she slid into the front passenger seat, watching the world through the side window as the car made it's way out of the city centre toward the run-down industrial park and the semi-derelict factory.

"At the moment I rent half the premises," explained Les, as he unlocked the old wooden door, "I'm building up the business; hopefully I'll soon be able to make improvements and maybe take over the whole building."

Judy found her voice, momentarily forgetting what the true and intended reasons were for going there.

"What exactly do you do?"

"Specialised work in carpentry, joinery and metalwork -- most of the work I do is commissioned, either by individuals or organisations."

As they entered a large room containing many machines, lathes and benches Judy's nostrils caught the smells of recently cut timber, oils and the general odours of a workplace mingled with the musty dampness of a neglected old factory. Les briefly told her about ornate staircases, special cabinets restored wooden and metal antiques and refurbished obsolete machinery. He produced a bottle and two glasses from a drawer offering her a drink, explaining her only had vodka. Judy wouldn't normally drink at this time of day but she needed a drink badly at this time.

Sipping from the glass she followed him into a smaller redecorated room that contained a partitioned off office.

"It's warmer in here -- I've done this room up." he explained.

Judy was glad he hadn't immediately jumped on her though wondered if he was getting carried away talking about his business and how he wanted to develop it -- suddenly he reminded her of her egotistical husband.

In the middle of the room was a large wooden object. It seemed very old with intricate carvings around the edges and inlaid mosaic patterns.

"What is this?" asked Judy, only half interested now her excitement had ebbed and her nerves calmed.

"That contraption?" said Les, "It's belongs to a museum -- I have other pieces in the room over there -- I've been commissioned to restore and repair them -- make them operable again." "Operable?" asked Judy, "What does it do?"

Les put down his drink and moved a catch on the cabinet. It unexpectedly opened out and from the centre what appeared to be a drop down sort of table appeared.

"It's very unusual and very old," explained Les.

There was a clatter as two short chains attached to the side of the drop down section fell from their resting place.

"It's a device that was built for flogging people -- probably not for punishing villains as it's too ornate for that -- maybe it's intended purpose was for a type of chastisement that was quite different and personal."

Les lifted the chains to reveal each had a lockable metal ring at its end.

"The victim could either be shackled in a standing position, or laid horizontal and tethered if the bench was dropped"

Judy gave a short but noticeable startled gasp followed by a nervous giggle; Les looked at her intrigued and curious.

"I suppose it's reasonable to assume that the contraption stood in someone's home, probably an upstairs room out of sight of visitors," the man said with a glint in his eye, "Could have been used as a means of correcting the behaviour of an errant or misbehaving wife. If someone went to a great deal of trouble and expense to have the thing made then I wonder if pleasure was the intended use, not punishment; though for some people there is a very narrow dividing line between the two -- one merges into the other -- pain becomes pleasure."

Judy continually uttered short giggles, her hands visibly trembling, her body fidgeting. Les was beginning to understand why. He took the glass from her hand and began to pull off her short jacket; Judy didn't remark or resist but kept her eyes on the large wooden instrument of domestic torture.

"Perhaps I'm right," whispered Les, "Maybe its use was for purposes of pleasure."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of her top, one by one, until he was able to slip his hand inside and down the cup of her bra, tweaking and rubbing her nipples.

"Unzip me," ordered Les in a harsh whisper, "Get my cock out!"

The submissive housewife obeyed without question merely letting her breath exhale in a soft moan. Automatically her hand gripped the stiff shaft, steadily jerking the loose covering of skin over the bulbous head. Les tugged her top from her skirt, allowing him to unclip her bra and free her tits before pulling up her skirt and thrusting his hand down the waistbands of her pantyhose and knickers to feel her cunt.

"You're very wet," he said, "You must be very aroused already. This is what you like isn't it? That guy I caught you with wasn't the only man you have let fuck you was he?"

"No," Judy answered.

"Does this machine interest you Judy?"

"A little bit," she answered coyly, with half closed eyes as his fingers expertly induced the level of her sexual arousal. "Will you let me fasten you to it Judy?"

"What are you going to do?" she asked anxiously.

"I have a friend who'd like someone to demonstrate how a person would look, tethered and restrained. Will you be a model for me?"

"A friend? There's no one else here." Her voice sounded distant, her expression seemed like she was detached, only semi-aware.

"I could call him -- he can be here soon. He would want to take some pictures -- but you could fasten up your clothes before he arrives -- and before I shackle you."

The sinister Les carried on masturbating the woman, bending to nibble her breasts: Judy continued to slowly wank his penis. Then he whispered in her ear.

"Wouldn't you like to know how it feels -- how it felt for all those women, all who have ever been tied to this device, to be helpless and forced to submit to their man - or men?"

There was a sudden gasp of air from Judy's mouth accompanied by a rhythmic gyration of her hips, pressing against the hand that was down inside her underclothes. Judy's eyes glazed over as she spoke in short disjointed sentences.

"I would have to leave soon. You can't do things to me. I shan't allow you to -- because he will know -- my husband would know -- he will look for the signs when he comes home. You must not leave signs for him to find. No marks!"

Les spoke softly, "Just some pictures; for private use." He pulled her to his front. "Look at the machine Judy, imagine how it must feel -- imagine the depravity, the lust, the pleasure created by this implement!"

The housewife pressed the hand of the man hard against her pussy; she only half heard the short conversation when he fished in his pocket for his cell-phone. For several minutes Judy was quite content, lost to the real world, working her crotch up and down the hand of Les.

"Come on now," he said, unsure if she was listening, "It's time to straighten up your clothing -- that's the way we'd like to begin."

Had she been capable of lucid and rational thought Judy might have asked just what was expected to follow? She had not even noticed that her new friend had not drunk from the same bottle.

A man had appeared quite suddenly.

"This is Judy," she heard Les say, "She's agreed to be our model -- and I'm sure she'll be happy to help us try a few things out."

The tall dark man had a camera with him.

"Step forward toward the device Judy."

She felt rings of cold steel close around her wrists, her feet clamped after she had told to widen her stance; several times a camera flashed hurting her eyes.

"You'll have to let me go," she insisted, "I have to go home!"

"Very soon," Les assured her, "When we've taken some pictures -- and had a little fun."

Through a haze Judy saw that both men were taking of their jackets, then unfastening their shirts.

"Let's make this look a little more realistic," Les said.

Stood facing the men, wide legged, with her hands shackled at waist height Judy helplessly watched as Les undid her clothing, uncovering her breasts for the delight of the second man who continually snapped the shutter of his camera. Now she was learning how it really felt to be totally submissive. Les tugged up her skirt until she displayed her knickers.

"Did I show you this hidden cabinet," the man asked pressing an inlaid panel, making a secret door swing open. Judy saw from the side of her eye the cupboard contained a selection of straps whips and canes.

A thin strand of willow was taken from its place and flicked across the woman's upper thighs.

"No!" yelled Judy, then she screamed.

"I'm afraid no one can hear you," sneered les, "But scream if you like by all means."

The second man was very excited.

The twig stung as Les flicked it against her labia; she was glad her pantyhose and knickers offered some slight protection. By way of a change, and for the benefit of the photographer her tormentor directed his aim up horizontally smartly across both breasts; Judy cried out, her nipples throbbed in tune with her pulsing swollen labia.

Curling his fingers in the loose gusset of her hosiery Les ripped them apart.

After an anguished screech Judy complained, "My husband, he will know, he will see -- you promised -- not to leave marks!" She was silenced with a flick of the willow.

With half-closed eyes she listened to the voice of Les, "It wasn't all about pain."

A tormenting tickle aggravated the burning sensation felt at her cunt entrance. Something like a feather teased her clitoris making her want to cover her crotch with her hand, knock away the irritant, ease the itch; though she could not move her arms. As she wriggled, moaned and begged, the camera clicked. As the tickling itch stopped, then restarted, she suffered mental torture waiting, anticipating the randomly timed action of the feathery weapon. She was grateful when the whip like strip of wood lashed against her clit, letting burning stinging pain overpower the agonising itch that seemed to penetrate deep inside her cunt.