The Sweet Revenge

Introduction:

This story comes from a somewhat dark, angry place, surprising me. It will be the only story of this nature I'll ever write. The rest will definitely be brighter. If you have genuine affection for the girl from your school days, the cousin, then maybe you should stop here. Me, well, frankly, I detest her. It's not jealousy. It's because she tortured you, tantalized you, affected your lifelong sexual perspectives, and still has the same kind of power over you that she did then. Yet she gave you nothing. And for that, I feel like she ought to suffer at least a little. It irritates me to realize, here is this bitch who only wanted to tease you and keep you on a sexual chain, and yet to you, even decades later, she will always be the ultimate prize. Then there's me, who would do anything to bring you five seconds of pleasure, and yet, I suffer no delusions that, given the fuck option between me or her, you would choose her without a second thought.

Maybe that's her appeal: they say a man will always remember and want the "one that got away", the one that he never got to have his way with. At any rate, I do rather despise her. No, I don't think she would ever deserve the right of having you inside her; she should have lost that option years ago when she withheld everything. Technically, the most complete and highest revenge would be for you to have forgotten her completely and found total satisfaction through other girls, But that didn't happen. So, this story, well, it's a release. For me. Forgive me if it offends you. Or read it with humor, as the ravings of a slightly insane creature who adores you.

You and I have had several rendezvous by this time, over the years. We've checked off your bucket-list, one fantasy after another. But I know that, ultimately, I can never satisfy those fantasies because I'm not the one you've always really wanted. I've been a substitute, a body serving proxy. So I develop a plan to free your mind, to give you a cumulative degree of satisfaction.

You get a call from me, and we set up a time to meet at a five-star hotel. I tell you there's a special delight in store for you, and this raises your curiosity, because we've already done practically everything you could imagine.

You show up, you knock on the door. I open it, then step back. The room is decorated in black, red and white. There's a four poster bed with sheer, black canopy drapes and a white satin duvet. There's a deep, tall, black lacquer dresser, positioned in front of a large mirror.

As soon as you step in, you see the bed. What you see on the bed is a woman. She's middle aged, softly plump, wearing navy blue panty hose, a man's white shirt several sizes too small, and black high-heeled pumps. Her hands and feet are spread, tied to the posts of the bed with long, black cords. She's wearing a white satin blindfold, and a red silk cloth is pulled across her mouth. There's a wide window opening to a crowded courtyard and pool area, and you notice the shades are partly open, exposing the bedroom scene to anyone who happens to pass by.

You can't catch your breath, your heart pounds, your cock is instantly hard, straining at your trousers. This isn't an image you'd ever expected. Your eyes rove the room and there I am, decked out in full dominatrix apparel. Black garter stockings, black, leather stiletto boots that lace up to my thighs, a black leather bustier, lace edged, that pushes my breasts up and slightly over the top, makes them swell and almost spill out. I'm wearing gothic jewelry, designed with a flair of danger. I'd considered the vampire look, but decided to go dark and mysterious instead, so have been tanned and bronzed, with dark smoldering eyes and red-black lips. I've even darkened my hair for the occasion; it's teased and full, swept to the side, almost black. My lace fingerless gloves come just over my elbows. But your attention is quickly pulled back to her.

What you'll never know is how she came to be here. I'd contacted her, given her a proposition without telling her any names. By this time, I have quite a business going; I'd offered her a contract. For a payment, she would come and participate in whatever I planned. But she wasn't given the details, only that there would be no permanent damage to her person, and if at any time, she wanted to back out, that was fine, but not only would she not get payed, she would have to pay me the agreed upon sum. The amount of money is extremely sizable, considering the fact that one of my associates has agreed to sponsor the project, contingent on my filming with hidden cameras around the room.

So earlier that day, I'd taken her to get a complete body wax. She'd had no idea what to expect from the pain of her pubic hairs being mercilessly ripped out. That pussy hadn't been bald since she hit puberty, and by this stage in life, was a small forest of tangled hair. She's not wearing any makeup, but I'd insisted she shower and cover her self with lotion, so her skin looks dewey and fresh.

Standing at the foot of the bed staring at her, you can just see the outline of her vagina lips through the stretched blue fabric, pulled tight by her spread-eagle, firmly tied legs. I come over to you, and undress you, giving your body, and extremely hard cock a quick coating of oil. I help you put on a man's leather thong, open in the front, tying in a laced-up style just above your erect phallus. It's just tight enough to lend some extra pressure to your balls. Then I hand you a small dagger-shaped knifed, black handle, engraved blade.

"Decide what you want to cut first."

She tries to cry out when she hears this, but the gag prevents her.

I start to laugh at the alarm registering on your face. You know, that I know, that actually cutting on a female you wanted to screw wouldn't be your thing.

"Yes, decide. The blindfold, the gag, or the pantyhose."

Oh, well then, relief. For you that is. She starts squirming. Remember, you haven't spoken a word and she can't see you, only hear the heavy breathing. She's wriggling with terror as you climb onto the bed, facing her crotch. The panty hose waistline presses an indent across her soft belly, the shirt has several buttons pulled open. Her nipples are hard, out of fear and the cool temperature of the room, and the push out through the fabric.

"Hey girl, you better hold still, unless you want a second vagina" I say, as I see you reaching forward with the knife.

She goes rigid, completely overcome with fear. You carefully cut a line in the crotch of the pantyhose, and, as they always do when torn while pulled tight, the fabric instantly gapes open in a circle, totally exposing her pussy. Her legs are pulled so wide you can see inside the labia. Everything is still pink, puffy and tender, swollen from her recent wax job. This vagina isn't quite the same as it would've been in school, as she's given birth. But you know it's the same flesh and blood, the same body you've craved ever since those adolescent yearnings took control of your mind.

Next, you reach up, and press your body on hers, reaching to slit gently through the gag. Then, with no hesitation, no caressing, no stimulation to prepare her, you lay down the knife, back up, come down, and drive into her: full penetration, instantly. She screams, writhes and the tethers. This is pain like she's never know, pure agony tearing up through her center. But perhaps it's agony mixed with the undeniably satisfying sense of being so filled, so overcome. The thrill of being dominated. You thrust, deeper, harder than you've ever done in anyone, not caring about what she feels. She still has no idea who is doing this to her, she squirms, twists, trying desperately to get away; her screams increase, she's almost choking, tears soak through her blindfold. You glance at me, to let me see how your pleasure increases with every pulse of your own heartbeat. I'm slipping a large and powerful vibrating bullet into my own smooth pussy, ready to feel my own pleasure.

"Save some room for dessert" I tell you, so you know to hold back, not give in yet to the overwhelming urge to release.

You pull out of her, your dick moist with traces of blood. She's bleeding like a virgin, red spreading across white satin. You watch as I climb over her, squat across her abdomen, reach to slash the cord that binds one of her hands, then the other. I pull off her shirt, not gently. I immediately latch on a pair of black metal handcuffs. One of my breasts slips over the top of my bustier as a lean over, but your view is of my ass and the back of my moist vulva. I hop off the bed, then brush against you as I free her feet; she tries to get up, kicking.

She's not as slender and shapely as she was decades ago, but that doesn't matter. You're strong enough to put her where you want her, even as she struggles against you. You lift her, turn her, push her against the dresser facing the mirror. I hop onto the dresser, face you while straddling her back, stand with knees slightly bent, my high heels pushing my pelvis up and out, so you can see everything. It excites you even more.

You grab the gaping edge of the cut in the pantyhose, and rip it backward so that her quivering butt-cheeks are exposed. You're now ready to let her know who you are, and you pull off the blindfold. She looks into the mirror, sees you behind her, holding her there. Her face registers surprise, recognition, a fleeting glimpse of relief, a hint of pleasure. But at that moment, you push the entire force of your shaft, as long and hard as it's ever been, deep into her anus. Her mouth gapes into a circle, her breath gasps ragged, her eyes fly open wide; she screams, she wails, she jerks and struggles to get away. But there's no pulling even an inch from you. Bracing her slightly against the dresser, you lift her up, so her feet are literally dangling, and nearly all her weight is held up by your cock pinning her ass. You're pushing, thrusting wildly now. She thought the first penetration was painful, but this is excruciating, a physical, emotional agony she didn't know could exist, skin stretched so tight, tissues nearly rupturing, bleeding slightly, her entire body shaking, the soft fat rippling in waves.

This is no moment of experimental affection; you feel all the rage, frustration, bitterness, disappointment, lust of a lifetime surging through you. I squat halfway down, still standing on the dresser, as and watching you and feeling the vibrations inside me bring me to a climax, my cum squirts out, down onto her back, a mixture of light, thin sweet-smelling liquid, and thick creaminess. You see the pulsing of my vagina, the spasmodic trembling of my entire body, my breasts both pushed over the top of the black leather, nipples firm; you see her face in the mirror, her shaking, pendulous breasts. You hear my moans and rhythmic crooning cries of pleasure; you hear her screams and cries of anguish and anger. You explode in a cosmic, mind-shattering blast of ecstasy, releasing all the pent up pain, all the years of unsatisfied desire. This is the culmination of years of unresolved imagination. You are breaking free, the sexuality she captured from you now reclaimed. You relax, overwhelmed with this sense of power and fulfillment as she shudders violently. The hold she had on you, the mixture of longing, pain, deprivation, have all been released from your body in that one massive ejaculation.

I know that now, at last, I've done it: now I've given you the one thing, the one someone that you've lusted for almost your entire life. I'd tried so hard to be her for you; that could never happen. But now, now, I've actually almost made you happy.

Conclusion:

This story could end in different ways, you know. Maybe you and I leave her there and ride off together on your motorcycle to enjoy more of each other for a few days. Maybe I walk away and leave you with her, and you find yourself becoming gentle, cleaning her up, making her feel better and acknowledging that even though you took her against her will, now you've formed a bond with her body that will linger with you both. Maybe we say goodbye in the hall, and meet again in a couple of years, or maybe we say goodbye forever. I know one thing: I never feel sorry for her. After all, she deserved to hurt. After all, she had the option to make it stop. And after all, she got to have your body take hers completely, be utterly conquered by it.

For that, she should be grateful.