Turn About: A Cautionary Tale

We next took a circuitous route to the seedy little motel at which the evening's festivities would take place. When we were out of traffic, I took off the wig and beard. I had earlier checked into the motel without it because I wasn't confident that it would be convincing to the clerk, and I didn't want to draw attention by wearing it now. I didn't want the staff to see someone going into the room that they had no recollection of, even though I had requested and received a room on the back end of the motel under the pretext of being farther from the traffic sounds. The room was accessible by a rear stairwell.

It was a grungy little generic motel because those are the only kind that will let you check in on cash without leaving a credit card or showing identification. I told the desk I had credit problems and had gotten rid of all my cards, but was passing through town and needed a place to stay. The big chains insisted on a credit card on file or, at a minimum an id, even if you paid in cash because if you did any damage or used the mini bar, they had some recourse. This place didn't have a mini-bar and there was not a lot of damage that could be inflicted that hadn't already been done.

I waited for the parking lot to vacate as some other occupants hauled their luggage inside, and then "helped" Ann out of the car. I unfolded her cane and took her arm-in-arm to the room with her feebly handling the cane between the cuffed hands whose chain remained covered with the sweater. No one was around though, and the type of people who were likely to come around were not likely to give us a moment's thought - they had their own treacheries and scandals to cover up.

Once in the room, I grabbed a blindfold I had previously positioned on the edge of the room's heating unit and reached around to put a strong arm around Ann's neck. I then took the blacked out glasses off, and replaced it with a blindfold. I gripped a handful of hair with shocks of her brown locks clenched between the fingers of my fist and spoke in a soft but intense voice directly into Ann's ear. "You aren't going to give me any trouble, are you?"

"No sir." She replied.

"That's a good girl. Now get naked." I said. I took the cuffs off so she could strip herself.

She took her time, but I didn't mind. She first shed her blouse. Not knowing what to do with the blouse because she couldn't see anything, she, apparently reluctantly, dropped it to the floor. I walked in slow irregular circles around her letting the alternating quiet and noise make her wonder what I was up to and to let her anxiety grow. The bra came off next and her heavy round tits rolled forward in response to gravity. As I walked behind her I raked my fingertips across the bare flesh of her back lightly. She cringed and shrank away ever so slightly. It was a quick, presumably involuntary, reaction on her part, and it was a good sign. It meant the mind-fuck was working, but she was not so terrified that it would all fall apart. As I got to her side I hooked and cupped the opposite side of her head in my palm and pulled her close so that the side of her head was wedged against the crown of my head. She would be able to feel my hot breath on her neck as I spoke. "Are you scared of me?"

"Y...Yes, sir." She stuttered just a bit.

"Good. Just remember that I'm in control. Do everything I ask, and this will work out for you. Now shed the skirt and everything else. I want to see the ass I'm going to ream." I said as I backed up to watch, taking the bra from her hand while furtively running a couple fingers over the growing bulge in my jeans. I wondered if she could hear the sound of my hand on my own pants, and, thus, knew I was using her nudity to enhance my pleasure. She unzipped her black skirt, and let it fall the ground. She kicked off her heels, and then put her thumbs in her waistline and plunged her panties and pantyhose towards the ground before stepped out one leg at a time. When she stood up, she had both the skirt and underwear in her hand. She was about to drop the pile on the floor because she could not tell where the furniture was.

"Give me those." I commanded.

She handed me the three garments. I extracted the panties and put the hose and skirt absentmindedly across the back of a chair. As I rubbed the silky material between my thumb and fingers I could feel dampness, but did not bother to investigate whether it was just sweat from the humid summer weather outside or whether she was beginning to grow aroused. Instead I turned the panties inside out and approached Ann once again.

"Tell me something. Do these smell fresh as the driven snow or like some sloppy-cunted cum-sack shit her pants in them?" As I made the inquiry I clamped the crotch of the panties over Ann's face and hooked the back of her neck with my free hand to prevent her retreat.

"They're clean, sir." Ann said.

"Don't lie now. If I take a whiff, and these things smell bad, I'll have to punish you." I said.

"They have a little smell." She said.

"Really..., and what do they smell like?" I inquired.

"Like my pussy." She said just a little bashfully.

"Ahh. They smell like your cunt. Why is that? Do you have a stinky cunt? Is there a gallon of putrid cum rotting up there?" I peppered her with humiliating questions.

"No, sir. It's not very smelly just a little." Ann said sheepishly.

"Oh, I see, you just got a little excited at work today didn't you. You had a fantasy that they made you service the entire staff and it made you drip in your drawers. Tell me do you often have naughty thoughts at work?" I asked.

Ann sighed and hung her head. "Yes, sir."

I moved around behind her wrapping my arm around her so that one hand was cupping the outside of one of her breasts. I sucked and nibbled on her neck. While this may seem a little romantic and sensual for a rape, it can, in fact, be a nice bit of mind-fuckery in this type of scenario. Realizing that you are not truly raping her, one of the best ways to get that anxiety level up and take the game to the real world is to make her think that you are going to leave a nice big purple and brown hickey right below her ear that is so dark that no makeup will cover it. For many full-grown women, having a hickey like some sixteen year old slut at Junior Prom is a bit demoralizing.

After a minute or so of this, I let go of the piece of skin that I had caught loosely in my teeth and let is snap back to her neck in a reddened but not broken state. I resumed talking. "It's alright that you're a slut, you know? I actually prefer it that way. Yes, there is some fun to be had fucking prudes. I must say, seeing them all weepy, shaken, and broken is kind of a turn on. However, the sex is never as satisfying. Even though the bitches always do as they are told, they don't have any idea how to do it well. No amount of threat or punishment will speed the learning process. Ultimately, they just lay there vacant-eyed while you get your rocks off in them. You, on the other hand, when I shove my cock into that fuck-hole on your face, you'll know instinctively how to pleasure it because hundreds of other men have been in there before. Right?" I said trying to create the illusion I had some experience with real rape rather than simulating it on women who got off on the fantasy of it.

"Yes, sir." She said.

"Now, it's time to have some fun." I walked her over to the bed, turned her back to it, and shoved her over hard. This was another bit of mind-play designed not to build arousal but rather to get the heart rate going. I didn't let her know she was next to the bed. So when I pushed abruptly, she stiffened and tried to brace herself because she was not sure where I was pushing her. She just started to twist to face the direction she was being shoved when the back of her thigh hit the edge of the bed and she lost balance falling over onto the mattress. This may seem like nothing. Essentially, she just fell into a bed like we've all done hundreds of times when we were sleepy. There's nothing safer. However, if you happen to be blindfolded and you have no idea whether you are being pushed into a wall, onto a glass coffee table, or down a flight of stairs, the physiological effect can be a bit intense. I could tell from Ann's heavy breathing that I got the response that I wanted.

I pulled out the ropes that I had pre-tied and secured to the corner of the bed as part of my early afternoon preparations. When I had left to pick up Ann, I had tucked them under the mattress just in case the housekeeping staff made an unexpected visit. I didn't want them to see the room set up as a makeshift dungeon. I nudged Ann into proper position on her back, and then, one at a time, slipped the slip-knots over her wrists and ankles and pulled them snug. While she could not reach one wrist with the other, I was confident that, if she didn't panic, she would be capable of getting out of the loops in time of her own volition. This was part of my worst-case scenario planning. If, in the unlikely event that I passed out or tripped and knocked myself unconscious on the dresser, I didn't want the motel staff finding me the next morning with her tied up, gagged, and blindfolded. So I used a knot that would allow her to get out by herself, but not too quickly or easily. I adjusted the length of each hitch in turn so that there was a little slack, but not too much.

I then stripped from the waist down letting her hear the belt being unbuckled and the jeans being unzipped. I then climbed up onto the bed on my knees, and knee walked toward Ann's head. "It's time for my tongue bath." I said as I swung a leg over Ann's face straddling it, and then stuffed a pillow under her head to raise it to the point that I was tea-bagging her with my nuts resting on her lips. Truth be told, this was probably the worst thing I would do to this poor lady. Having been cooped up in denim for an entire hot humid midsummer day, I'm sure the underside of my scrotum smelled and tasted like a combination of the armpit of a musk ox, a salt-encrusted hiking boot that had crossed the Serengeti, with just a hint of ass to round out the not-so-delicate bouquet. Nonetheless, I intended to enjoy as she licked every square inch of my scrotum and cock, and she, for her part, did not need to be told twice to get started. She lapped at my nut-sack like a dog that had gotten into the Christmas gravy.

I unstraddled her and kneeled beside her head leaning forward while she bathed the topside of my nuts and underside of my cock in her saliva. Occasionally, I took a hand full of hair, and, acting as though she had missed a spot, moved her face to where I wanted it. However, in reality, she was very conscientious. I then re-straddled her face and pointed my cock down into her mouth. While she was not lacking in enthusiasm, this was not a particularly comfortable way to get sucked off because my cock was pushed down in an uncomfortable manner. I, therefore, pulled out as soon as I knew I had reached maximum rigidity and prepared to move on with the exercise.

After putting on a condom, I positioned myself between her open legs, and drove my cock to its base in a single thrust. While she was quite aroused and had produced a great deal of natural lubrication, it was still clearly not pleasant for her past the first couple inches. Normally, I would have gradually worked myself in and out a few times to prepare her to take it all, but she seemed to yearn for the full rape experience. Truth be told, it was not that pleasant of a feeling for me as there was a brief instant of snag during which I thought my cock might kink and break in half, but I was caught up in the moment and was committed to giving a genuine experience. After I was in, it was pleasant and easy to develop an intense thrusting rhythm.

I heard a faint and distinctive click behind me, and turned expecting to see a mortified Latina housekeeping lady standing in the doorway. There was no time to cover up what was going on in the bed, and I had no idea how the housekeeper would respond to the woman I was fucking being tied down. Maybe she would just back out and ignore it. Maybe it was a regular occurrence. People did get freaky in motels. On the other hand, maybe her hyper-Catholic morality would kick in and she would call the cops. At least I hadn't duct-taped Ann's mouth yet. I had intended to do that, but I knew I'd want to put her mouth to good use early in the proceedings. This would make it a little less in criminating. Ann could have cried out for help if she wanted to, but she didn't. And I hoped she wouldn't.

I turned around to see the door opening. I was still inside Ann completely, but had stopped thrusting. I turned to see a quite unexpected sight. It was Don, and he was entering swiftly with a large, 45 caliber or 10millimeter, gunmetal semiautomatic pistol in his hand pointing right at my head.

"What's going on, Don? How'd you get in here?" I asked calmly.

"Shut the fuck up. You think you can rape my wife, and then just have a pleasant conversation with your dick still in her." Don said in an intense voice. As he said this, he raised a cell phone, and used its camera to take a shot of me violating his wife. I was so stunned I had not the good sense to turn away. I had no doubt that it probably showed my face clearly as I fucked a bound, blindfolded, and apparently unwilling woman.

Alright, rescuing the damsel in distress was his thing. I could cope with that. I was certainly pissed because it wasn't in the script, so to speak, but if he wanted to play that way I'd leave and let them play out their fantasy. Don clearly must have followed me. If he'd had wanted to keep my dick out of his wife's mouth and pussy, he could have intervened about ten or fifteen minutes earlier. At least I got a little sucking and fucking in before the party collapsed. How he'd gotten a key-card was a minor mystery, at best. All the things that made seedy generic motels perfect for this type of activity (acceptance of bribes and a profound willingness to look the other way), also made it fairly easy to break in like this. He had probably come up with a cockamamie story about being an old friend of mine wanting to surprise me, and then put some nominal bribe in the palm of the desk-clerk or housekeeper. I backed my cock out of Ann's pussy, and pulled off the froth covered condom.

"OK, dude, I'll get out of your hair. You can have the room, just turn in the keys -both of them- in the morning and you're on your own for any phone calls you make or porn you buy." I said moving off the bed.

"So you think you can just defile my woman and then prance off into the sunset." Don said stabbing the air with the muzzle of the weapon to accentuate his point. "I think you need to pay the fucking piper. Of course, you can go, but then your picture goes up on a dozen websites within an hour. Is that how you want to play it?"

Now I was beginning to get a little unnerved. Up until now, I thought we were absolutely still role-playing, but that Don was simply improvising. Into my mind now crept that little bit of doubt that I specialized in creating, but for which I was utterly unprepared to be a recipient. Ironically, when he made the blackmail threat, the whole thing got surprisingly more real for me. When he was pointing the gun at me, I didn't think he had it in him, any more than I did, to pull that trigger and commit murder, but I could easily believe that he would put my face out on the World Wide Web for all to see. That threat was real to me. I now realized the downside to my policy of anonymity. Because it was that important to me to keep my identity secured, they knew there was someone I badly didn't want to know about my extracurricular activities. They didn't know if it was a spouse, a client, an employer, a girlfriend, a preacher, or some combination of the above, but they knew there was someone from which I would go to great lengths to keep my secrets.

"I thought not. Now untie my wife." Don had apparently taken my silence as I mulled the situation over as a "no."

"OK, alright, it's your game now." I said playing along, but also instilling a reminder that we were, in fact, playing a game. I circled the bed pulling the little nooses free of Ann's limbs.

Don tossed a brown paper sack onto the bed as his wife was getting up and removing her blindfold. The sack hadn't really registered because I was so focused on the gun and Don's angry face. "Put that on. It's time for the rapist's payback."

I turned to see what Ann, who had climbed down from the bed and was standing on the opposite side of the bed from myself, was extracting from the bag. It was a black nylon harness, and what I saw next caused a lump to grow in my throat. It was a rather substantial skin-pink rubber dildo. It was perhaps eight inches long with a slightly bigger than average girth. Some kind of tube came out snagged in the harness and dropped with a soft hollow thud to the floor. I realized when Ann picked it up that it was likely some kind of lubricant. That fact, however, didn't make the notion confronting me any more appealing. I had to get myself out of this.

I decided to summon that self-confidence that I normally used to control the situation on the other side. It was a little more difficult with a large caliber handgun pointing at one's head at close range. I didn't know if the gun was loaded, but it was definitely real or, at least, a damn realistic facsimile. "Look, I don't know what your little plan is here, but I am most definitely not into any shit involving that [nodding to the strap-on which Ann was now putting one leg at a time through the harness of]. I'm willing to vary the routine. If you want to be a hero, b..." I was in the middle of walking toward Don when he began to pull the pistol back to his right hip and put his left hand forward to keep me at bay.

"Bitch, you just do not get it, do you? There is no fucking negotiating here. You will do every god-damned thing I tell you to, and, if I'm satisfied, I let you go and we all go on our merry way keeping each others little secrets. If you don't, that photo goes viral." He said.

The maneuver of pulling the gun back to his hip worried me. Whoever Don was, he knew what he was doing. He could be a cop, a soldier, or even a sophisticated thug, but he knew enough not to stick his gun in my face like a rank amateur where it would be relatively at risk of being wrestled away. Anyway, he didn't learn gun-handling from the movies like most petty criminals and members of the general public.

"Now, if you're staying, you need to get on your hands and knees, now, Bitch. Face the foot of the bed. If not, I've got some files to post." Don said.

I slowly did as I was told. I was out of ideas. If Don had showed himself to be an ignoramus with his firearm, I might have tried to fight him to get the camera- so intense was my desire to avoid the fate before me. However, I was not suicidal. I tried frantically to think of what I could say to talk my way out of it. I couldn't think of anything likely to receive a better response than my previous implorations. One thing I knew for certain, I could not let my little secret out.

"Honey, put those ties on his wrist." Don commanded, and Ann did as she was told. As she walked from one corner of the bed to the other the hanging phallus bounced rhythmically. My hands were wide because of the short length of the ropes, and it wouldn't be comfortable for long. "Now, climb behind him there, and have a go at him. Remember 'turn-about is fair play' and 'an eye for an eye.'" Don said.

"Look, sir, I know you're in control here, but please don't do this. I really..." I began to say. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't say I'd never had a wild thought about such an act of receipt, but it was not the kind of thing I ever imagined would become reality. There was something fundamentally otherworldly about it.