Ron Taylor: Handcuffed housewife

"For God's sake!" she whispered desperately. "I'll give you money – my husband will give you money – don't hurt me – take me home and I'll give you all the money you want!"

"Maybe I don't want your money," the man said. "Maybe it isn't your fucking money I want at all, Emily."

She looked at him. He was a big man, broad shouldered, with a craggy face. His nose had been broken, a long time ago, and it had healed with a slightly crooked twist. His hair was dark, tightly curled, and his expression was smug and superior.

She'd know him instantly in a lineup. Emily held her breath, memorizing every line of his face. When it came time to identify her abductor, she wouldn't flinch. She'd see him all the way to the electric chair.

He came around the bed, stopping alongside her. She looked away in dread as he sat down on the edge, his jeans-covered hip only inches from her naked flank.

"Please, at least cover me," she said, scarlet with shame.

"No, I'm not going to do that," the man said. "I like the way you look when you're naked, Emily. You have a beautiful body. The only thing nicer than looking at it is touching it. I touched you a lot while you were unconscious. I put my hands here…"

He laid his palm on her heaving tummy. The heat of his hand was like fire against Emily's skin.

"And I put my hands here, too," he said, smiling an evil smile as he took hold of her tits.

Emily screamed when his hands closed around her tits. She looked down at her nipples, hard and cherry-red from terror. He squeezed hard on her tits. The nipples seemed to push upward in scarlet points, showing above the clutch of his big hands.

"Guess where else I touched you?" he said, releasing her tits. "And there wasn't a fucking thing you could do about it, any more than there's a fucking thing you can do about it right now, Emily. Uh huh, baby, I had my hands all over your sweet furry pussy!"

And he grabbed her between the legs, seizing her cunt in a grip that felt, like iron bars. His fingers dug into the soft, tender flesh, and screamed again, knowing even as the cry forth that it would not bring her any help.

"God, what a cunt!" the man said, stroking it, massaging it in the fierce possessive clutch of his hand.

His fingers teased along the fear-sensitized crack of Emily's cunt. It was still a little tender from the session of masturbation she'd enjoyed in the tub. He parted her lips and his finger eased inside.

She bit her lip. She could still feel the gentler, sweeter penetration of her own finger. It could not have been very long since the attack in her bedroom.

"Oh, Jesus!" she said, wincing as his finger stiffened and thrust deeply into her pussy. She rocked in her bondage, and her ass lifted upward, almost as if it was pushing itself toward the finger that invaded her tender cunt.

But that wasn't it at all. She pulled back, but the mattress beneath her was a solid barrier and his hand moved too, that long stiff finger poking deeper and deeper into the tight dry well of her pussy.

"How long since you've been fucked, Emily?" the man asked. "Have you ever been fucked, I wonder? You're tighter than some virgins I've had my fingers inside. Mmmm, baby, I think I'm gonna enjoy having you as a guest!"

"Goddamn you!" she groaned. "Oh, God-fucking-damn you!"

His finger began to work in and out of her pussy. He stabbed her hard, penetrating her tight reluctant cunt without the slightest bit of subtlety. She moaned and squirmed and writhed, anything to escape the relentless attack, but the handcuffs and the scarves, that bound her hands and feet made motion almost impossible. She could not move far enough to escape him.

He took a tit, in his other hand, squeezing, mauling the flesh. He twisted her tit cruelly, his fingers hot and moist as they pawed her.

"Goddamn you!" Emily whined. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I fucking can." He smiled crookedly. "I love the plush feel of your tits. Too bad they're not bigger, but they're big enough. Anything more than a mouthful is just luxury, as they always say. Let's see if your tits are more than a mouthful for me. I have a big mouth, and I can put a lot of tit into it, Emily."

He leaned down and began to work his tongue back and forth over the stiff, straining, cherry peak of her nipple. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

His tongue felt rough as sandpaper. He licked her nipple, licked circles around the red rim of her areola. The touch of him was like a file sawing at her titflesh.

His finger moved faster and deeper in her pussy. She could feel her cunt beginning to lubricate itself. It had to get a little wet, or else he'd scrape her raw, the way his finger was moving in and out. She continued to jerk reflexively each time he plunged inside her, pussy relaxing slightly as he came out, and then once more that driving thrust.

He fed her nipple into his mouth and sucked at it. She felt her nipple lengthening as his lips tugged and pulled.

"Oh, Jesus, nooooo!" she moaned.

And suddenly he stopped. His mouth left her tits, his finger exited from her pussy. He brought his fucking hand to his face, sniffed at the middle finger that he had taken out of Emily's cunt.

"You were getting wet," he said smugly. "I could feel the juices oozing out of your pussy walls onto my finger. I'm all wet from being inside your cunt, Emily. Here – smell it. Pussy juice, baby. Your pussy juice."

He put his finger under her nose. She couldn't turn her head far enough to avoid it. She knew the funky aroma that coated his finger.

"Taste it, honey," he said, rubbing his moist finger on her lips.

She tightened her mouth, head shaking.

"I said taste it, bitch!" the man snapped. He thrust his finger into her mouths forcing the lips and teeth to give way. "Suck your pussy juice off my finger!"

Whimpering, she did as he wanted.

"Work your tongue," he instructed. "Jesus, I can feel that tongue of yours sliding on my cock already, Emily! I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it!"

Emily gulped. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant.

He stood up, removing the blue work shirt he wore. Under it his chest was bare, thickly matted with hair. His torso looked more like an animal's than a man's. He rubbed the flat of his hand over the chest hair, sliding it down toward his belt. As she watched, nibbling her lip in dread, the man unhooked his belt and started to slide his pants down.

He had no shorts underneath, and as the pants descended, his cock bounced out, not nearly erect but almost monstrous in size – or so it looked from Emily's tied-down, prone position on the bed. He got out of the pants and sat down again on the bed beside her.

"I don't want to," she cried. "Please, I don't like to fuck… I don't even let my husband fuck me most of the time. It disgusts me to be touched by someone else."

"I don't care a rat's ass what disgusts you, or what you like," the man said coldly. "We're going to do things that I enjoy, Emily. You're just a mouth, a pussy, set of tits that I'm going to use for my own pleasure. I may put my cock between your tits and stroke it back and forth till I squirt my cum in your face. Mmmmm, I think I'd enjoy doing that. Your tits are plush as crushed velvet. My cock would think it had died and gone to heaven, fucking your sweet tits. I'd love to see what my jism looks like splattered all over that rich-bitch face of yours, too. To see my cream running down your forehead, your cheeks. We'll have to do that, for sure, baby. Yeah, I'm getting hard just thinking about it. See?"

He leaned back, showing her that his cock was indeed starting to stiffen and rise from its semi-limp dangle.

She gasped at the sight. His cock looked even bigger than Andy's and God knew she could hardly stand to be penetrated by her husband's prick.