tagNonConsent/ReluctanceLosing Control

Losing Control


I was 33 when we first met: Kerry was 25. She was single but on the rebound from an expired relationship with a childhood sweetheart. I was married but, for all kinds of reasons, it had started to wobble. Kerry's job as a rep brought her into contact with my office from time to time and she got an invite to our office Christmas party in 1980 which is where it all began.

She wasn't exactly what you'd call drop dead gorgeous but she had auburn hair and a stunning figure with boobs several sizes too big for her frame. We met and fell for each other and after the party we drove to her flat and spent the whole night fucking each other senseless. She said that she had never been fucked for that duration before and I had simply never been fucked – in the sense of having someone on top of me giving me as good as I was giving them.

Somehow we both knew that this was destined to be much more than a one-night stand.

And so our long affair began. For the next few months we saw as much of each other as we could and the sex of course continued, although I was occasionally aware that I might not be the only name in her little black book, as it were. There wasn't much I could say, however, as I was still living under the same roof as my wife in what was, by now, a doomed relationship but I couldn't just walk out as Kerry wanted me to do.

So bit by bit I dismantled the marriage until a big argument erupted and I took the opportunity to walk out of the marital home. I got a flat and saw Kerry almost every night but, for various reasons, it was still too early for us to move in together...... this we did a year or so after we had first met.

Kerry was the first (and only) person in my life with a sex drive equal to mine; in some ways it was greater than mine and we used to joke about this. What was new to her was my fantasy about wife/partner sharing and this theme crept into our love-making to the point where the adrenaline was missing for both of us unless I was fucking her mind with those fantasies as well as fucking her body.

When I told her the truth about what I had once done during my marriage [see "1972" in Loving Wives] I had to suppress the noise of her orgasm for fear of our being evicted from the flat. Time and time again she asked to hear all the lurid details – on one occasion this happened when she was driving us in her car to the Lake District with my hand frantically working away inside her panties.

What I didn't realise was the degree to which, slowly but surely, I was forging what would turn out to be the means of my own downfall.


We bought a small cottage together about 14 miles out of town, nothing too spectacular as Kerry didn't earn all that much and I was on the receiving end of a costly divorce which would prove a drain on resources for some time to come.

Our sex together was simply the best I had ever had, nearly always enhanced by the sharing of what, by now, had become mutual fantasies.

Kerry still wanted to maintain a degree of independence which was fine by me. She had her job of course, as I had mine, and the first warning sign came soon after we had moved in together. A year earlier (when things between us were still a bit uncertain) she had arranged to go on holiday for a week with her parents to Greece and on the appointed date, off she went with me driving her to the airport. Some weeks after she returned I found some photos (which she had hidden) of a man on a beach at night wearing only a satisfied smile. The truth came out....Kerry and he had met at the hotel and spent several nights together. He was from France and they had no intentions of seeing each other again: it had just been one of those brief holiday romances – a 'fling!'

Fling or not, we ended up having a violent row, in the course of which Kerry eventually got round me by saying:

"Just treat it like another fantasy: you like the idea of me getting screwed by someone else, don't you?" She knew just how to handle me and so I ended up fucking her as hard as I had done on our first night together and she just couldn't believe it ( when I thought about it afterwards, neither could I ) The boundary between fantasy and reality had taken one more step along the road to extinction.

There followed numerous instances when Kerry told me during sex of people she had met and flirted with (or worse) – mostly through her job – and I was left to work out for myself whether this was fantasy, reality or a mixture of both. Whichever was correct, it began not to matter; it always had the desired effect and the sex continued to be unbelievable.

I was flirting too – who doesn't – but I was actually staying loyal to Kerry as far as actual sex was concerned and I began to see a longer-term future for the two of us together. There were lots of ups and downs of course, but also times when I really thought this was it: I was in love.

Over the next couple of years together things stayed at the same level except that Kerry had started to become more of an exhibitionist. When she fancied someone she would make it obvious even when I was there with her. Part of me enjoyed this (I loved the idea of other men lusting after her) but it did make me wonder what was happening when I wasn't there.


Kerry and I did agree at one point that we wouldn't cheat on each other by fucking around behind the other's back.

Once during this period we went away for a week to the City of Bath and stayed at a small hotel. Our room on the ground floor had a large low window which looked directly onto the hotel car park at the rear of the building. One evening when we returned to our room after dinner there was a large Transit type van parked right up against our window, and we could easily hear the two men inside the van talking. Kerry refused to let me draw the blinds and stripped off in front of the window (remember those fabulous tits?) and we then fucked on the bed in full view, as if oblivious to their presence.

Whether she was serious or not I'll never know but she then asked me if I wanted to invite them into our room. At the time I guess the fantasy was good enough without invoking the reality – at least it was to me - and so the blinds eventually got drawn. Slowly but surely Kerry was playing me at my own game and winning.

So there is the backcloth for what happened next in the autumn of 1984. It may be a bit long and drawn out but it puts into context the most exciting yet most destructive event in the whole of my sexual life.

I'm a lawyer and in those days in the early 1980s I used to spend quite a bit of time in court, often dealing with petty crime and family law matters. To some extent, I could make up my own hours, which I often did.

So, one day in the autumn of 1984 after a court case collapsed I decided at short notice to take the afternoon off and so I drove home to our cottage. When I got there I was surprised to see Kerry's car parked on the drive as she would normally have been at work at that time.

Also parked outside was a small white van which meant that I had to park a little way down the road and walk back. As I entered the front door I heard the unmistakable sounds of panic from above. The stairs were directly in front of the door I had just entered so, without thinking, I called out Kerry's name and nervously went upstairs.

Maybe I should explain at this point that our cottage was very small. The front door opened straight into the living room, beyond which there was a large kitchen/dining room. The stairs, which came down directly into the sitting room (opposite to the front door) led straight into the main bedroom, beyond which were a bathroom and a guest bedroom.

The two men, both I guess in their 20s and complete strangers to me, were obviously very surprised and embarrassed.


Kerry was standing next to one of them but it seemed clear that a few seconds earlier, judging by the state of the bedding, one or all of them had been lying on our large double bed. The men were fumbling with their clothing, obviously getting dressed as hurriedly as they could.

I know this may sound silly but one thing that upset me as much as anything was what Kerry was wearing.

On top she had a boob-tube (which she often wore) but the skirt she had on was a very special one that, as far as I knew, she only ever wore for me in the bedroom. It was like a tennis skirt, navy, pleated and very short. I believe that Kerry had had it since she was a teenager but it was far too revealing to wear outside the house. She had once put it on for me in the bedroom as a kind of joke and after that it was only ever worn when she wanted sex because she knew what effect it had on me. It was her "Fuck Me" skirt and she put it on for one reason and one reason only!

The two men made as if you leave and Kerry suddenly said, "Don't go. We want you to stay: both of us"

I stood there, too confused and angry to say anything at first but Kerry opened her mouth and ran her tongue around the inside of her lips suggestively, so that was that. I was as hard as a rock inside my pants and I mumbled

"No, you don't have to go" and then, in my trance-like state of shock, I found myself rather stupidly asking if they wanted me to get some drinks to which the answer was "yes". Downstairs in the kitchen my hands wouldn't stop trembling and shaking as I tried to compose myself with a shot or two of whisky.

[Years later, when I think back to this incident – which I often do – I find myself wishing that I had asked if they'd like any tea with their crumpet! Another of those lines we wish we had said but, at the time, weren't quick enough off the mark]

I think I must have been downstairs in the kitchen for a good five minutes and, at first, could only hear talking from upstairs.

Then it started!!!

Our bedroom was almost directly above and, not only could I hear the unmistakable creaking of the bed, it sounded as if the ceiling itself might come down at any moment. I went back upstairs!

Kerry was lying across the bed with her boob-tube around her neck and one of the men holding her arms up above her head and eating her face and tits. The other man was pounding his very stiff cock into Kerry's wet pussy with his trousers round his ankles and her skirt pushed up to her waist........... her panties were somewhere on the floor.


The noises they were making – oblivious to my presence – were pulling my mind in one direction and my body in the other. It was torture and went on for longer than I care to remember as I stood there, just watching, with a lump in my throat and a bigger one in my trousers.

The man who was holding her down was starting to look a bit uncomfortable at me just standing there watching – still wearing my suit – and he said

"She asked us here mate. We didn't break in or anything" I was thinking how to reply when Kerry joined in the conversation and said,

"Don't worry about him. He's been dying to watch me do this for ages" Again I felt betrayed as one of my private fantasies was out of the bag as they all laughed.

When the first man had finished off inside Kerry's pussy it was time for them to switch places but she was not happy anymore with me just standing there and said to me,

"Either join in or fuck off – just don't stand there with that sorry look on your face"

I said something like "Why don't you two fuck off. I live here, this is my place" and after a bit of unfriendly discussion along those lines the two men got dressed and started to leave. Kerry was not very happy at this but went downstairs with them and as she was showing them out I heard her say

"He'll be OK. Come back sometime after six"

At this stage it was about 2.30 in the afternoon.

The next couple of hours were among the strangest I can remember. After my anger had subsided we talked, and I reminded Kerry that we had agreed not to fuck anyone else unless we were both there and in full agreement. She had no idea that I might come home early. Would she have told me what had happened? Was this the first time? It also emerged that the two men had been there at the cottage since about mid-day so I had not exactly arrived in time for the start of the show.

But Kerry knew me too well, and all my weaknesses besides, and within an hour and a half of the men leaving I had her hands tied to the bed head (a favourite routine for both of us) and, still with her "Fuck Me" skirt on I was rubbing then licking those irresistible sex lips beneath her tuft of wet curly pussy hair, followed by more sensational sex! Was I in heaven or in hell? I was past caring.

I had almost forgotten that I had heard Kerry inviting the men to return later and when I mentioned this to her she bit her lip and said,

"I'm sorry, I can't explain it but sometimes it just isn't enough to pretend. Let's do it just this once and then talk about it again" She also told me that she loved me – I was "the love of her life" and she wanted us to stay together.


It was sometime after 8 pm when the doorbell rang. The two men were back and smelt heavily of booze, having obviously come straight from the pub!

In the intervening period between the two men leaving and then returning, Kerry and I had agreed that, if the men returned, we would not invite them back into our bedroom. Instead, the plan was for the four of us to go for a drive in my car (which at the time was a large Volvo) and see where the road would lead, as it were. Kerry and I knew a spot in the middle of the forest, not too far away, where it was possible to indulge in sexual antics far away from the likelihood of being disturbed by anyone else, especially at night. This was also a bit closer to the 'mind games' which we had been playing with each other for the past few years.

Unfortunately the two men seemed to have other ideas! They came into the cottage and started to take control of the situation in a way which made both Kerry and I feel more than a little uneasy. By now she had changed into more sensible clothing – a jumper and long skirt, although underneath she had put on stockings and suspenders for our planned adventure in the forestry.

Ignoring our suggestion that we all go out for a drive (and no doubt affected by what they had had to drink) the two men were putting their arms around Kerry and treating her like their property, mauling her tits through her jumper as if getting her ready there and then for more of the same treatment from earlier in the day. When we both tried to protest about this, whilst trying not to antagonise them, one of the men started to push Kerry up the stairs while the other came towards me and was telling me, in effect, to keep out of it – in my own bloody house!

Our voices got a bit loud and then there was a noise from outside the cottage. Someone came to the door and the man who was confronting me opened it and into our cottage came two more men who closed and locked the door behind them.

My heart sank, not only at this new intrusion into our privacy but I was immediately able to recognise one of these newcomers. I had seen him several times in court – and I don't mean sitting on the bench! He looked at me as if he knew me from somewhere but luckily, at that stage, he couldn't place me in my casual shirt and jeans.

(It is often the case in my experience that, outside the court setting, people often can't recall where they know you from –even sometimes very soon after the event)

Anyway, the men obviously had their own ideas about what they were going to do and, for the time being, Kerry and I were simply no longer in control of our own destiny. The man I had recognised followed Kerry and the other man upstairs and I was forced down into a chair in our sitting room by the other two men whose job it was to stop me from interfering with their plans for the rest of the evening!!


This was all obviously prearranged which became clear as they produced a roll of sticky tape (duct tape I believe) which they used to secure me to the chair in a seated position. They even switched on the TV and said sarcastically

"We don't want you getting bored granddad!"

As all this was happening I heard laughter and a loud roar from upstairs which made my heart sink even further. In all the confusion I had stupidly forgotten to remove the ties which were still attached to the top corners of the bed and so, yet again, another aspect of our private lives was put on display and ridiculed.

I could only guess what they were doing – all four of them – to Kerry in our bedroom. I couldn't hear much of what was being said because of the noise of the television but I could hear the constant pounding of the bed springs and the floorboards above me. I didn't find out until afterwards that they had re-tied Kerry's hands to the top of the bed and used her stockings to tie her ankles to the bottom corners after removing her jumper and skirt and then ripping off her panties.

They then each took turns to fuck her in that position and, when they'd had enough of that, she was turned face down, tied again to the top and our pillows pushed under her middle so that her bum was lifted in the air.

She was then fucked all over again and, several times in this position, the men had fucked her anally, obviously by now looking for a tighter hole than her stretched pussy. Those not fucking her at any one time were busily engaged with the rest of her body which I later saw covered in scratches and love bites especially on those fabulous tits, with some also on her neck, arms and back.

During this whole final episode which lasted several hours, one or other of the men would come downstairs to help themselves to food from the fridge and to the contents of the drinks cabinet. As this was happening I was being goaded with comments regarding Kerry's attributes which I would rather not repeat.

The man I had recognised from court was still trying to work out how he knew me and then, above our drinks cabinet, he saw my framed copy of my Bar Certificate hanging on the wall, and then the penny dropped. He had remembered who I was and his memory was not a happy one.

"Fucking bastard" he spat at me, and rushed upstairs to share the information with the others. At this time Kerry was apparently still lying face down with her bum in the air and the first I knew of what was now happening was the sound of something swishing through the air and landing on flesh with a loud thwack, then all the men laughing.


Kerry, who had never been into spanking or anything along those lines, was squealing and crying "No" as her luscious bum and the backs of her legs were covered with lashes from what turned out to be two of her wide leather belts taken from a drawer, each being wielded by someone on either side of the bed.

I must have counted at least thirty blows and heard someone shouting :

"That's what happens to lawyers' fucking slut wives!!!"

If there was any consolation, at least by the end of Kerry's punishment the men had had enough and slowly they left, grinning at me and making crude comments and the usual gestures with their arms and clenched fists.

They knew only too well that we would be too embarrassed ever to do anything in the way of reporting what had happened and besides, Kerry having effectively consented to what had happened at the outset, of what was there to complain?

Before leaving, one of the men had untied Kerry's hands and she eventually came down to release me. Her face, hair, breasts and legs were covered in dried semen, as was most of our bedding and pillows. The bites and scratches on her body were extensive and her bum and legs were bright red and covered in strap marks which (luckily) didn't last for more than a day or two.

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