Peter Jensen - The blackmailed wife

"We shall just stop the clock for a few minutes to allow you to compose yourself. Perhaps another little drink would help also." He smiled vindictively.

"S-Stop the clock. Why you can't! Our agreement was for you to make love to me. N-Not something like this." She directed her eyes in horror at the instrument in front of them. Max ignored her, walking to the other side of the room to stop the clock. He poured her another drink and handed it to her while Ann stood immobile in the alcove. She lifted the glass and greedily poured the cool liquid down her throat.

"There," Max gleamed, "that should settle your nerves."

"Please start the clock, Mr. Schroeder," Ann whimpered, her eyes downcast to the floor.

"Max," he corrected.

"Please start it, Max," she whimpered again, her voice softening in surrender.

"You have offended me, my dear. You must first prove that you are sorry. The next hour shall not count and if you have not convinced me by that time, then our agreement is off and I shall have prints of the pictures on the streets of San Diego and off in the mail to your husband tomorrow morning. Now finish your drink."

His voice turned coldly and chills ran through Ann's body as the sudden recollection of her bargain returned to her. Max would not waver in his cruel demands and she was certain he would keep her here for a week if necessary. No one would miss her – she was hopelessly lost and her only salvation lay in seeing this through no matter what. She drained the glass, tears brimming to the corners of her eyes for the thousandth time today.

"That's a good girl," Max chuckled, enjoying the look of helpless resignation that crossed her face. "You shall have those pictures back in no time."

"Please start it now, Max, I beg you," Ann whimpered again, unable to bear the thought of an additional hour.

"We shall see, my love. We shall see how well you put your heart into the task at hand. Now be a good girl and come over here."

Ann hesitantly walked to the machine, resigned to her fate. Max took her hand and helped her onto all fours into the plastic mold. He fastened a leather strap behind her small waist just above where it flared into the broad, voluptuous curves of her hips. This held her torso tightly into the foam rubber pressed against belly and chest. Her ripe full breasts swelled through the apertures like ripe succulent fruit, the whiteness of their soft flesh contrasting sharply with the black of the smooth plastic. The fronts of her thighs were pressed tightly into the grooves molded for them and he quickly ran straps around the back of these just above the knees, locking them, into place. She could see herself in the mirrors surrounding them, held in the same helpless position as the girl with the dog in Tijuana. Max then took her arms and pulled them straight out to the sides, snapping them into two leather bracelets like those on the bed. They were held out as though she were doing a swan dive. Next he placed a tight leather band around the top of her head. There was a cord attached to the back of that he ran through a loop on the strap over her waist and drew it tight. It pulled her head up and back so that her face was looking straight ahead, her neck bent at a ninety degree angle with her body. She groaned painfully for a moment, until she finally adjusted to the bizarre position.

Her eyes grew wide in disbelief as she saw in the mirror what had happened to her in the space of a few short seconds. She squirmed against the straps holding her with all her strength but it was useless. She could not move. The humiliation and shame were too great as she suddenly sobbed in her frustration. The white rounded cheeks of her buttocks stood high behind her, completely vulnerable. She felt a stab of fear at her total helplessness.

"Now my love, make your choice," Max said beaming with lewd delight at the poor girl bound before him. He opened a mahogany box before her horrified eyes. She gasped as she saw the lascivious contents. As he had promised, there were about ten rubber phalluses, each in its own slot. Ann was amazed at how realistic they looked, even to the color; equipped too with a set of huge balls that even had realistic hair growing from them. He teasingly pulled the largest from the box and held it close before Ann's tortured face. She groaned in anguish as the size of it became clear to her alcohol blurred eyes. It must have been at least nine inches long, with a head that was about two inches across.

"How's this one?" he gloated in front of her tightly bound form. "This should make quite a dent in your belly."

"Oh God, no please," she whimpered. "I can't take it. I can't take it."

He replaced it slowly in the box, an evil leer fluttering across his face.

"Then, let's try this one for a starter. This should stretch it a little."

He pulled the second largest from the box. It was smaller, but not much. Perhaps an inch in length and a quarter of an inch in diameter less.

"Oh, no, nooo!" Ann screamed as Max walked around the machine. She could see him in the mirror screwing the horrible instrument onto the steel shaft, pointed directly at the wide-open split of her crotch behind.

"Please, please don't do that to me."

"You'll like it, my dove. Remember, I promised you would. I still have some surprises for you."

He took a pitcher from the table where Sidney had left it earlier and Ann could see him pouring something into the rubber sac dangling beneath the huge menace of the penis. "Hot olive oil, my dear. I can squirt it into you anytime with the control button in my hand. This controls the speed and depth of the machine." He held a small box that looked like a television set remote control box. It was connected by several long wires to the base of the machine.

"We can make it do anything we want it to with this," he smiled. "All you have to do is ask me when the time comes – and – oh yes, I almost forgot something."

He bent over and quickly attached two rubber suction cups on the ends of long tubes, to the nipples of Ann's breasts, which protruded through the holes in the contour couch. She tried to pull back from the sudden contact but her bonds held her tight.

"W-What are you doing?" she moaned, the cool feeling of the rubber on her nipples sending chills along her spine.

"Just preparing you, my dove. We mustn't forget anything," Max answered gleefully, standing back and surveying the helpless girl with pride. "We must first prepare you."

He reached behind, rubbing his hands lewdly over the full rounded contours of her imprisoned buttocks, stroking them greedily. He dug his fingers into the softness of the flesh for a moment as though unable to take his hand away, then with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, he gently spread the fleshy, hair-trimmed lips of her vagina apart. They were dry and unprepared and Ann clenched her teeth tightly together in fear that he was going to hurt her. Instead, he reached to the small table beside them and dug his fingers into a jar of Vaseline. He gently swabbed the lubricating jelly the length of her pink warm slit, inserting his index finger fully into the fleshy warmth of her cunt. He rotated it around and around, swabbing the Vaseline deep into the soft folds, preparing it for the entry of the poised rubber member on the piston-like shaft.

"You are too tight my dear. I didn't realize you had had such little usage. We must take care of that."

He loosened a bolt holding the sheaths enclosing her thighs and moved her knees much farther apart. Ann's legs stretched wider and wider until she thought he was going to split. She cried in protest as she felt her behind stretch, the walls of her narrow pink slit popping open wide from the harsh outward pull.

"That's more like it," he chuckled, pulling the huge waiting member forward and pressing the giant rubbery head between the lips of her cruelly stretched vagina until it was poised for entry. Ann tried to struggle forward as she felt the soft, spongy substance inserted into the sensitive, lubricated lips but, again, it was useless.