Dana Swanson - Blackmailed Into Swapping

Her first thought was that with his cum plugged in her twat she would get PG, but she had taken The Pill regularly. All that could happenthe very worst-was having this foul rapist's jizz soaking in her pussy …

Hysteria mounted, subsiding only after the three robbers had gone. Her discomfort, having her feet drawn high in the air and arms tied down the sides of Willie's desk, became dominant. She had the frightening sensation that she would be left like this, obscenely naked, her breasts and crotch painfully taped, until she died.

Willie was helpless. No matter how he struggled, the adhesive tape kept him harnessed to his chair. Mavis twisted her head to the right and stared at the grotesque mummy of his genitals. It must be very painful for him, she thought, having his hard cock bound up like that with wide strips of tape.

Time passed slowly. And Mavis drifted into a semiconscious state.

Later, she was only vaguely aware of other people in Willie's office.

She learned the next day that Connie had called the police when Willie didn't come home.

Police Lieutenant Henry Carr was there-he helped cut the tape bonds from her arms and legs and the strip that encompassed her body. There were other policemen, too. And Phil came as Hank wrapped a blanket around her nudity. He rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital where she was given a sedative before the tape was cut from her body.

She was washed down with rubbing alcohol and put to bed. She was more asleep than awake when Phil told her that nurses had had to shave her pussy hair to remove the adhesive from her abused snatch.

She hadn't been aware of that, but had known when someone flushed out all of that cruel man's filthy semen. They had sprayed and perfumed her and that had felt good and cool and she wanted to sleep.

Her sleep was deep, but her mind played back, vividly like a fullcolor, three-dimensional movie, the past couple of weeks. Her mind focused immediately on that day when she came home from the store, the day Dell Emerson had accompanied her to help bring the groceries into the house.

Yes, that was when all of this horrible business started happening to her…

As Mavis preceded Dell Emerson through the vined arbor to the back door, she was conscious of his eyes on her rump that was snugly molded by tennis shorts. She knew men and she knew that the young law student's eyes were exploring her body as he carried the large box of groceries.

She juggled the two bottles of gin and mix to her left arm as she unlocked the door. She liked to look sexy, knowing she had a figure men liked looking at. And Phil Moran, her husband, liked for her to dress enticingly. He was almost embarrassingly proud of her sensuous appearance.

And Mavis liked men's eyes on her. She held the door open, glad to be out of the glaring sun, and let Dell into the large kitchen. She paused, perfectly still, listening to Dell put the box on the breakfast nook table. She frowned. There was that one brief chapter in her life she wished she could erase. There was that tormented interlude after college when she couldn't find a job. A lot of men's eyes had seen her body-not just in tennis shorts and skinny bra! They had let their lust-filled eyes rove over her absolute nudity! And, oh, the things she had let them do to her body! Some had been really, keenly good! Others had just used her for their animal pleasure. She wasn't resolutely ashamed that she had been a prostitute for four months. It hadn't been so bad. And the money was good! But, she would never, never, ever tell Phil! That would just kill him and her marriage, probably!

She sensed that Dell's eyes were on her hips and thighs and slender back again. She lingered with her reverie for a minute longer. But a girl had to make ends meet-she had had that urgent student loan to pay off before they would let her have her diploma in economics.

It hadn't been too bad. In the four months, she had only taken on enough "clients" to meet her financial obligations. Hell! she pouted, turning and smiling at Dell, a lot of girls gave it away free to thirty men and boys-and she had earned almost twenty-five hundred dollars.

And some of the older guys-the tender repeaters-had been real fun; they had taught her that sex-play was greater sport than the Super Bowl-and no broken bones. She almost giggled. She had crushed a few sex bones. Except, the memory sometimes almost broke her heart. Well, she had her hero. Phil! And she would never sell her body again!

"A drink, Dell? That's right, you have to go back to the store. How about a lemonade? It's all ready, in the frig."

"Okay," the tall stock clerk said, slipping into the nook.

Mavis inhaled deeply, lifting her full breasts for his admiration, as she handed him the frosty glass. His eyes never missed a ripple of supple muscles in her midriff and the haughty lift of her breasts. "I'm going to have a martini," she murmured, turning away from his eyes that had riveted on her crotch where the tight shorts outlined the full labia-the smile and crease. As she stirred, she sighed silently. She could have him. And, with Phil gone so much, an eager tail wagging around inside her would be scrumptious! But, she loved Phil too much to cheat, she told herself. Or did she? A healthy girl needs sexing ever so often.

No matter how much she needed a piece of male twang and a spot of nookey, it would take a helluva lot to get her on her back with legs kicked high for some other man's pleasure-stick! She sensed he was hot-aroused-she could almost smell his musky male aroma! She could have him-if she wanted! But, wasn't he going with Becky Samon? The young woman who worked as a typist at the Salt Lake City law office where Dell helped work up briefs, did research and got some practical legal training? She wondered, even though they were engaged, whether Dell was faithful and loyal to her.

She would bet that he was! Right now, he was extremely hard-up! She could smell the warm, sweet aroma of his genitals-and her excitement was increasing. But, she was resolute! She wouldn't let him seduce her and she wouldn't seduce him and cheat on Phil!

The fleshy curtains that protected her womanhood felt glued together and she didn't want to risk getting up, lest Dell see the telltale traces of honey seeping from her love cove! "Hadn't you better get back to the store?"

"Probably," Dell smiled, finishing his lemonade and sliding out of the booth.

After he had gone, she pouted over the possibility he had smelled her, too! She didn't want him to think of her as a cowardly female in heat!

Afraid to skin out of her clothes and have a lusty sex romp while her husband was away. Mavis almost cried. She did need her cove explored.

She shivered with sexual misery. If Dell had just made the gesture, she just knew she couldn't have resisted; she would have flopped over, flung her feet into the air and spread her milky thighs wide. She wouldn't have resisted one iota as he presented his manhood to her. She would have let him take her-and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it!

She needed a man!

"Phil!" she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself…"I need fuckin'!"

She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual urge that was coursing through her veins.

Mavis almost wished Willie Quentin, Connie's husband, would call her in to clerk that evening at the local supermarket where she sometimes substituted for regular help. The prospect of spending another evening of solitude without Phil was depressing. Would he be home tonight? He had said he was going to Cheyenne, Wyoming, on some kind of big burglary. That was three days ago and he hadn't even called!