4 Weeks Ch. 01

Day One

Life was good. She sat in Starbucks and gave a wave through the window to the departing girls as they set off for home. She smiled to herself remembering the conversations, the revelations, the gossip, the innuendo that made up the proceeding couple of hours away from normal life as it did at least three times a week.

Not quite Sex and the City, she giggled to herself. But hey, we have all done well, and can still turn heads, even if this is provincial England!"

She checked her phone and grabbed her bag ready to depart when suddenly, a man sat down at her now empty table blocking her exit. He was dressed in steel toe cap boots, jeans and a tee-shirt, both heavily soiled with what looked like paint and plaster. His hands dirty, he was obviously a labourer or builder she surmised.

How rude, she thought to herself and prepared to tell him exactly that when the words became caught in her throat as he addressed her by name.

"Hello Sarah, or should I call you Mrs Smythe, or maybe there are other things you should be called."

Confused by this strange turn of events she could only babble, "Do I know you?"

He smiled without warmth, never once diverting his gaze from her eyes which she was finding very disconcerting. "You don't Sarah, though perhaps you should, I have got to know you very well."

"I built your extension Sarah. I don't think you notice the lower orders do you? And nor do your friends."

A vague recollection came back to her, her husband Mark had organised everything, she had been busy wrapped up organising the charity ball and had tried to stay away from the building work.

"Yes, I remember you now." she stammered. It was then the anger started to kick in.

Who did this man think he was, talking to her like this? "I have to go now." she snorted indignantly, and made to stand up and leave. She was startled as he grabbed her upper arm and forced her back down in her seat, never once averting his relentless gaze.

"Sit down Sarah," he commanded without raising his voice. "You and me are going to get to know each other a lot better over the next four weeks."

A feeling of panic started to rise within her. She scanned the now empty coffee shop, the staff must be out back, she thought. His muscular grip on her upper arm did not abate.

"It was not from working for you that I became so familiar with you Sarah, it was thanks to Starbucks. You see we share a taste for expensive coffee and free wifi, we are not so different. In fact I have listened to you and your girlfriends on many occasions over many months.

" Of course you do not notice the lower orders do you Sarah, or your well to do friends. I was very interested to hear of your affair with your husband's accountant. Shocking Sarah, a respectable middle aged lady like yourself" His mocking tone only served to increase her anger.

"Let me go now, you are hurting me!" she demanded.

He continued to smile, staring intently into her eyes, still gripping her arm. He continued unmoved by her protestations. "It wasn't just the accountant was it Sarah, there was also the golf club pro. I really don't think Mark would be very happy would he?"

She started to feel sick. "What did he want? What if he told Mark? Mark would never forgive her, it was just sex and some attention, fun though he would never understand.

"Divorce is a nasty business Sarah, I hope it doesn't come to that." he continued, "No more big house, the end of invites to those fancy parties you love so much hosted by his influential friends. I don't think you would be very welcome at the golf club any more either Sarah."

Her head was now spinning. This was unreal, a nightmare, how did this common labourer know so much about her, had she really been so indiscreet?

"Shit, shit shit!" She cursed, as tears started to well up. "What do you want? Please don't tell him, I will pay you."

He laughed, "You think I want your money? I want more than that, I want all of you. Here is the deal Sarah. I can tell Mark or you can do as I demand."

"Anything!" she said desperately, tears burning her cheeks as her mascara started to run.

"You are going to become my whore, my sexual toy to use for the next four weeks."

"It will not be easy, you will do anything I require of you, your body and mind will be mine. You will be used, tied, hurt, but I will not damage you. You will find out what it is like to be a complete slut for me. After four weeks you are free of me forever should you choose that."

Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts whirling around but nothing would coalesce into words, a solution, a plan of action or even movement. She sat motionless, unable to respond. Her thoughts finally started to make some form of sense. This dirty man was blackmailing her and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Shit, I can't risk divorce, she pondered. She looked at the man sat beside her and wiped away her tears. She could have sex with a stranger, even a scruffy one with no social airs and graces, for four weeks if it saved her marriage, how difficult could that be she rationalised. He was in his forties, not bad looking, lithe body. For fuck's sake Sarah, he is fucking blackmailing you, maybe I am a whore she screamed at herself silently.

"Four weeks and that it? I never hear from you again? How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't." he said, "But I assure you I am a man of my word"

"OK." she stammered

"You have made a wise choice Sarah. From now on you will be called whore and you will call me Sir."

He released his firm grip on her arm and she instinctively moved her other hand to rub it. He moved his hand down and placed it between her legs and began rubbing her cunt through her thin summer cotton dress, she immediately went to remove it only to be shocked into silence by a swift slap across her cheek.

"Your body is mine whore! You know the deal, honour it or I walk away now and tell Mark, your choice."

She felt the tears begin to flow again and mumbled, "OK."

"OK SIR, whore!" he whispered threateningly, raising his hand to strike her again.

"OK Sir." she whimpered and opened her legs slightly.

He placed his hand between her legs and began to rub whilst whispering in her ear.

"Whore, you are mine for the next four weeks, body and soul. You are mine to use, fuck, abuse cum on, degrade, cum in and lots more. You will come to crave my abuse and my cock. You will become my whore, you will come to love serving me."

The string of obscenities became almost hypnotic. She could feel herself starting to respond to his touch. She could not let this pig see that, she had to stay still. It was just mechanical, she reasoned to herself, nothing more.

He detected the way she was moving her hips to his touch, despite her efforts to hide it and smiled a leering smile. He hitched up her dress and inserted his hand into her panties. She desperately scanned the coffee shop, still no one about, thank god, she thought.

His fingers probed her wetness, she gasped as his finger found her clit.

"You are a whore aren't you?" he spat,"a soaking wet whore. What sort of women gets so wet under these circumstances? A fucking whore."

No one had ever called her a whore, she looked down, her silent tears continued, but her body still responded much to her disgust.

"You are going to cum for me whore." he whispered into her ear, "Now"

Involuntarily she parted her legs wider and let out a low gasp.

His fingers became more insistent, "Come on whore, cum for me, show we what a slut you are."

She began to hate her body for responding in the way it did, she started moving her hips rhythmically, pushing back onto his fingers. The orgasm started to build within her. She tried to fight it but it but the urge for release was greater. The pleasure came in waves, spreading throughout her body, she let out a scream, only to have it stifled as his rough hand was clamped across her mouth. Wave after wave, the orgasm was as powerful as she had had. Her panties were soaked, her legs wide open. It was then reality kicked in and she felt another wave of disgust come over her.

"That was a good start whore," he whispered. "Tomorrow your training starts". He removed a stubby pencil from behind his ear and scribbled an address on a scrap of paper pulled from his pocket. "Be here at 10.00 AM tomorrow whore." With that he stood up and walked to the door without a backward glance.

Her head was spinning. She glanced down and hurriedly straightened and pulled down her dress. She could feel the wetness of her panties and could taste the saltiness of her tears.

"Are you OK?" asked the young barista.

"Er, yes, of course, thank you." she replied.

She hastily made for the door. She tried to compose herself. None of what had happened made sense to her. She pulled the address he had given her out of her bag, what the hell was she going to do, she thought to herself.