Corporate Bodies - Pt 06 - Cruelty free porn video

Chapter Twenty-Four

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny as if nothing had happened to darken our lives. The world still turned, the kids still needed taking to their sports activities and Amanda and I started the day as if the extraordinary events of the last two days had not taken place.

The terrible anger of the previous evening had resulted in wild, passionate sex as if both of us were trying to expunge the memories of all I had seen, and all Mandy had done in Andy’s office.

Neither of us able to wait, there was no foreplay; no romance, no oral sex given or received. Instead, our bodies came together with a brutal, feral energy that burst from deeper within us than I at least was prepared to contemplate.

Amanda had thrown herself into our copulation with lust and energy that had been all but missing since her first fucking by Andy, tearing at my clothes as I stripped away hers and meeting my barely controlled lust blow for blow.

As more and more of her body was revealed, I could see the faint but unmistakable marks of Pamuk’s assault that it still bore. There were small bruises around her waist and hips where his fingertips had gripped tightly, pulling her bodily onto the powerful forward thrusts of his cock over and over again. There was a sore pink patch at the tip of the cleft between her buttocks too, presumably where his wiry pubic hair had ground hard against her soft skin as her anus was brutally penetrated from behind.

My wife knew this and knew I had noticed, but she was undeterred. Indeed, there was fire in her deep blue eyes as she stood naked before me, challenging me as if demanding to know what I proposed to say or do about it.

To my shame, I said nothing. Far from driving me away, this clear evidence of her recent infidelity simply drove me on to even greater efforts in my lovemaking – though that is hardly an appropriate word for the violent, passionate coupling that followed on both sides.

I fucked my beautiful, intelligent, half-whore of a wife fucked me – or perhaps she fucked me - with a frenzy I hardly recognized as my own, slamming my cock into her already-sore and still-swollen vagina with a violence I had never suspected lay within me.

Driven by perhaps the most basic male instinct to assert my claim over her body, spurred on by my wife’s unrepentant attitude and the cruel, taunting gleam in her eyes, I took her like a man possessed.

Amanda offered no resistance as I almost dragged her towards the bed, kissing her hard on the lips, my tongue thrusting deep into her mouth as our teeth clashed clumsily. She responded in kind, sucking and biting as her own tongue writhed over and around the invading creature.

My hands moved to her small firm breasts as we kissed, crushing them cruelly in my fists. She gasped, then grabbed my head in both hands, pulling my mouth away from hers and directing it towards her tightly gripped globes.

Taking her right breast far into my mouth, I sucked on and bit into its long, dark nipples. Amanda gasped again and raked my shoulders with her nails as began to nip her teats between my front teeth, pulling and twisting them as my fingers kneaded and pinched the smooth pale globes on which they stood increasingly proud.

Amanda bore it all, sucking me with a passion and energy I had not seen in her for many months then complying with every demand I put on her. On her back, on her knees, astride me and beneath me, my unfaithful wife allowed me free, unfettered rein over her well-used body.

I took full, cruel advantage of the opportunity, hammering my painfully erect cock into her from every angle I could imagine, and with a force that had never before featured in our lovemaking. Like a crazed demon, I fucked her face and breasts, but most of all her well-used vagina, her slit still gaping wide between angry red, freshly shaved outer lips.

The only time she objected was when I rolled her onto her front parted her legs with my knees and for the first time in our relationship, tried to thrust my cock through the tight ring of her battered, still slightly gaping anus and deep into her rectum; the darkest of her caverns and the one into which I had never ventured.

Once, twice, three times she took my swollen head firmly in her fingers, directing it away from her bruised sphincter and into the gaping mouth of her vagina once again, thrusting herself powerfully backwards each time as if to ensure no diversion from its intended target would be permitted.

“Please! Not there!” she hissed into the pillow. “I’m too sore!”

Frustrated at being denied her back passage, I fucked her loosened vagina even harder from behind, my mind filling with images of Andy and Pamuk, the two men whose erect cocks had succeeded in going where mine had failed.

Had they looked down on the same long, smooth back and flowing blonde hair? Had they gripped the same tight, athletic waist and hips in their fists? Had they pulled her bottom back onto their cocks with every powerful thrust as I was doing now, barely giving a thought to her pleasure or pain?

And what had her tight rectum felt like, wrapped around their thrusting cocks, gripping them tighter and tighter until they had ejaculated deep within her body?

Brutal it might have been, but my assault of Amanda’s body was successful. For the first time in many months, my wife actually climaxed beneath me, her vagina clamping hard on my cock as she began to cum, biting hard on the pillow to stifle the animal noises that escaped from her open mouth.

Driven by jealousy this powerful, the strength of my climax and the volume of my own ejaculation that soon followed hers were as intense as any in my life, before or since. I became almost violent as it struck, thrusting my spurting cock into her as if in a passionate determination to re-assert my supposed rights over this incredible woman’s well-used body.

As I joined her in near-simultaneous orgasm, biting my lips to silence my own climactic grunts, I wished with all my love and lust that the semen I was ejaculating deep inside her body still contained the sperm needed to make her pregnant and truly mine once again.

And then it was over.

Amanda fell forward into the mattress then rolled onto her side of the bed, panting for breath, her face and chest both pink. Sweating and with a sorer cock than I had known for years, I lowered myself alongside her.

No words were spoken. None were necessary; our actions had said all that needed to be said. The fury of her resentment and my jealous anger were for the moment, spent.

With our kids asleep close by, neither of us had been able to let ourselves go as freely as we needed, but for me at least, it was the most passionate but most deeply disturbing copulation I had enjoyed for many years.

And Amanda had been an enthusiastic participant every step of the way. Except one, I corrected myself.

Following so quickly after her ordeal with Pamuk, Amanda was exhausted by her experience with me and fell asleep without dressing or even cleaning the sticky evidence of our copulation from her slender frame and hairless vulva.

I lay awake alongside her for a long time, severely troubled. Although at the time it had felt simply amazing, there was no escaping the fact that since her enforced infidelity, Amanda’s bedroom performance had been transformed. Always a delight to make love with, my sweet, pretty wife had acquired stunning new sexual skills that at times had literally taken my breath away.

The woman I had just fucked so hard and who had fucked me every bit as hard in return, had looked like my wife and had spoken like my wife; she had even smelled like my wife, but in bed had been very, very different from the woman to whom I had believed I was married.

I began to understand what she had meant when she told me that sex with Andy had been better than she had dreamed sex could ever be. If this evening was anything to go by, it had been better than I had dreamed it could be too.

I had just been given a glimpse of what my wife could be like in bed with the right man.

I had to accept that the right man might no longer be me.

*

Amanda had been sore when our lovemaking had started and was sorer still the morning after, but despite this, as we went about our usual Saturday morning chores, her demeanour was astonishingly normal. I could see she was walking stiffly, and her frequent, visible wincing when sitting down or bending over was a constant and painful reminder to us both of all that had occurred, but she said nothing.

As we shared a coffee at the kitchen table mid-morning, she was very much Amanda again. No one seeing us together would have guessed what had happened over the last forty-eight hours; even I found it hard to believe at times, but I knew how important it was to keep up appearances.

The fiction that Amanda and Mandy were two different personalities had to be maintained if our marriage was to survive.

Once again, I understood what an extraordinary woman my wife was. Her ability to compartmentalize her life was uncanny. When she was Mandy, she could be as much a whore as she needed to be without shame or regret and, as I had twice witnessed, often with considerable enjoyment.

When she was Amanda, Mandy the whore simply didn’t exist.

I smiled as she told me once again what my duties were as far as the kids’ sporting commitments were concerned. It was banal, normal and just what we both needed. It did indeed look like we might have come through another major watershed in our lives still together.

The definition of what ‘together’ meant for us had been forced to change a great deal over the past half-year. To my constant amazement and relief, though Amanda’s enforced infidelity had seriously strained our marriage, it was still far from broken. Perversely, it sometimes seemed to have actually united us, at least in a determination to progress my career as far as it could possibly go, and through whatever means were available to us.

The problem of the stolen money still remained. Despite the payments I was making to Andy, at this rate, it would be at least two more years before I had paid off even half of the unofficial loans I had unilaterally taken from the Company. My stomach churned as I realized that, if I couldn’t find a faster route out, Andy would have fucked my lovely wife over two hundred times before our agreement came to an end.

This was something I couldn’t bear to contemplate. Another plan was clearly needed and urgently too but no matter how hard I tried, nothing with even half a chance of success had so far come to mind. I had, therefore, resigned myself to a prolonged period as a reluctant but helpless cuckold.

Having lost control over one part of my life, the need to assert myself in others became overwhelming. I resolved to throw myself into my work with an even greater passion than before; to run, cycled and train in the gym with renewed energy. To be the best, most involved father to our kids that I could be.

No doubt my psychologist wife could have explained in exhaustive detail, but for me, all I knew was that having had my position as Alpha Male in our bedroom taken away, I needed to feel that some form of sexual dominance still existed in my life.

I no longer had first call over my wife’s amazing body; those deep blue eyes no longer focused only on mine in moments of passion but despite her newfound desires and sexual prowess, I still hoped that this painful period of infidelity would only be temporary. I still believed that Amanda and I could once again be the close, loving, faithful couple we had until so recently been. I still prayed that an opportunity for escape from our predicament would present itself before the damage to our marriage was too great to heal.

There was no sign of any of these things happening any time soon. I badly needed a distraction if I was to keep my jealousy under control and remain sane.

But first, there was Yvonne to deal with. It couldn’t be put off any longer.

I dutifully performed all my domestic chores as instructed and Saturday morning’s activities proceeded with their usual smoothness. As eleven o’clock approached and there was a two-hour lull in the children’s taxi-driving obligations, I took the dog’s lead from the wall and watched him go crazy with excitement.

“Another walk?” Amanda asked, looking up from her ironing.

“He’s been fractious all morning,” I replied. “He needs wearing out a bit.”

She grinned at me.

“Rather you than me. I’m still shagged out. Where will you go?”

I loved her accidental, almost Freudian sexual allusions and grinned back, but Amanda didn’t seem to realize what she had said.

“The Country Park probably. There are a good few steep hills there. That’ll fix him!”

“Have fun!”

*

Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the car park, the dog bouncing off the car’s walls and roof in excitement. When I opened the tailgate, he ran in crazy little circles until I could get him on the extending lead. Five minutes later we had passed through the large deer-proof fence and were working our way up the steep hillside.

As we rounded the first corner a short, plump figure holding a long dog lead was standing alongside the path, waiting. It was Yvonne who had obviously planned to accost me in the quietest spot on the only route into the park.

I could feel the tension in her body. She was dressed as she would usually dress to walk the dog; her plump figure covered by tight black leggings, a long jumper, jacket and knee-high boots. Her dark hair had been brushed until it shone; indeed, she would have looked very pretty indeed had her face not been so pale and her expression so worried.

“Hi!” I said greeting her warmly.

“Hi!” she replied but without her usual enthusiasm.

“How are you?” I carried on as normally as I could.

I noticed she made no attempt to kiss me on the cheek as she would usually have done so I bent over and kissed her instead. She smelled sweetly of bath oil and light perfume.

“I’m okay. Thanks for… for coming,” she began.

“You look good!”

“She frowned, “I haven’t slept much since Thursday.”

“I can imagine,” I grunted. “Shall we…?”

We walked on through a side gate and onto a little-used path through old woodland. The trees were thick, the path private and secluded and for a few minutes, we walked in silence as our two dogs showed how pleased they were to see each other in the usual doggy ways, totally ignoring their two owners.

“I thought it was you that night,” she said after a long pause as if summoning up her courage.

I made no attempt to deny the fact.

“I’m surprised you could tell, you looked so...”

“Please don’t!” she interrupted. “This is hard enough for me as it is!”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. It was going to be a morning of pauses.

“How long were you watching?” she eventually asked.

“Long enough, I’m afraid.”

“You saw…?”

“Pretty much everything that happened on the bed. You were already tied up when I arrived.”

“Jesus!”

Small tears began to form in the corner of her eyes.

“Does Mike know?”

There was a long pause this time.

“He knows I see Andrew, but he doesn’t know anything about what we do.” She stopped in her tracks. “And he mustn’t ever know! Never!”

She looked up at me with a strange pleading look on her face. Then she burst into tears.

“Please don’t tell anyone! Please! I’d do anything… anything to keep that secret. Please!”

“Hush, Yvonne,” I said quietly, slipping my arm around her shoulders in a rather weak attempt to comfort her. “I haven’t mentioned what I saw to anyone yet; no one at all; not even Amanda!”

“And you won’t? Promise me you’ll never tell anyone!”

I ignored her question and held her until she recovered a little composure. We began to follow the dogs again and after a while, I moved the conversation on a little.

“Those… those things he was doing to you,” I asked a little hesitatingly. “Is it… what YOU like to do? Is it what you enjoy? Or is it just what Andy goes in for? Is he abusing you, Yvonne?”

I tried to sound concerned, but of course, my main motive was to find out if my own wife had endured or enjoyed such brutal but effective attention at Andy’s hands. The thought had of course brought another unwanted and ill-concealed erection to my trousers.

Fortunately, Yvonne appeared to take my questions at face value. She blushed, staring at her feet as she replied.

“No! It’s not Andrew, he’s lovely. It’s… it’s me. Once I get started, I just get carried away. I can’t explain it but when he does those things to me – when he hurts me - it makes me feel sexy and attractive again like I’m getting a man’s attention like I used to.”

“Does it hurt? Badly I mean?”

“Not badly. It does hurt but it’s not like real pain at all. It feels… I can’t describe it, it’s… amazing! It makes me feel… attractive – maybe even exciting again!”

The idea of needing sexual pain to make her feel attractive and interesting was far beyond my limited imagination. Amanda could no doubt have explained it in great psychological detail, but she was the last person I wanted to be involved in this sordid little episode.

“Sometimes I feel it’s what I deserve,” Yvonne mumbled into her ample bosom, then stopped walking again and turned to face me.

“You can’t mean that,” I protested.

She rounded on me, her eyes wide and angry

“You’ve seen the wedding pictures. I used to be gorgeous once, didn’t I? Slim and shapely? I used to be the one the girls envied, and the boys all wanted. I used to be the one turning down dates with the fittest guys in the sports teams!”

She hung her head.

“Now look at me: fat, short, old and tired. At least when I’m with Andrew, I’m the one getting all the attention again – and you have to agree he really IS gorgeous!”

It was twisted logic but at least it was logic of a kind. We carried on walking along the wide but rough path. Yvonne suddenly seemed anxious to talk; anxious for me to understand why she had got into this situation.

I wondered if she had anyone else in the world she could talk to in this way.

It must be so, so hard for her. I thought of my own wife and her relationship with Andy. Did Amanda need to talk more too? Or was her alter-ego Mandy enough of a barrier? Clearly, Yvonne had no such emotional defence; she was speaking from her heart.

“At first he was just charming,” she carried on. “You know how smooth he can be! He flattered me and paid me more attention than I was used to. It made me feel good; really good. Mike said I should try and ingratiate myself with him because it might be good for his career.” She laughed hollowly. “At least that turned out to be true.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Remember Mike’s promotion the Christmas before you got your Partnership? Well, that was the first time Andrew and I… did it. It was in his office earlier that afternoon.”

His first time with my wife had been there too; clearly, Andy had found a successful formula and was sticking with it.

“Did Mike know anything about it?”

She took a deep breath.

“Mike was there when it happened. Outside the door, listening.” She frowned. “He set it all up!”

“He did what?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Yvonne paused in her walking, turned and looked up into my eyes, her voice resentful.

“Mike took me there knowing full well what was likely to happen. He even fed me wine at lunch to make sure I was half drunk when I arrived. What with the alcohol and Andrew’s seductive powers I never stood a chance! He had me on my back across his desk within fifteen minutes of the door closing!”

She sighed.

“And then he gave me the best fucking of my life!”

She paused, then added, her eyes dreamy.

“At least, the best I’d had up to then! I’ve learned so much since.”

“Jesus, Yvonne!”

We carried on trudging up the hill as she continued.

“I know. I’m not proud of myself. It was the first time I had cheated on Mike since our wedding.”

“What did Mike say afterwards? Did you tell him?”

“I didn’t need to; he couldn’t have missed it. There was no way I could hide it, anyway. He only had to look at me to know what had happened.”

“How did he react?”

She shrugged,

“He made out he was shocked and angry; that I had done a very bad thing, but it was all a put-on.”

“Why didn’t he stop it?” I asked.

“He pretended he didn’t realise what was going on at the time. But he must have heard everything and just let it all happen!”

She looked at me and frowned.

“Basically, he pimped me out.”

“Jesus, Yvonne. And it’s gone on from there?”

“I’ve seen Andy almost every week for nearly two years. Usually on Fridays, first thing in the morning, but he calls me other times too. And when he calls, I always go!”

“Why do you go? Does he have some kind of hold over you?” I asked, hoping to learn anything that might help my own terrible situation.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said coldly, stopping dead in her tracks. “He’s got nothing on me! Nothing at all! I go because I want to go! I love what he does to me… and for me… and with me! I love the way he makes me feel!”

“But I saw you! It looked humiliating,” I began.

“I know it looked humiliating! It WAS humiliating! I LIKE being humiliated! I WANT to be humiliated! It’s what I deserve, I told you!”

There was no right response to this outburst, so I made none, I just patted her shoulder and we walked along a little further.

“I suppose if it’s doing Mike’s career no harm...” I said eventually.

She laughed in relief at the brief release of tension.

“Andrew always keeps his word,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Everyone knows that. Even if the deal’s distasteful, he delivers on his promises. Mike will get another promotion soon, I’ve been assured.”

“So, it’s vital no one gets to know about your… arrangement,” I said flatly.

“Christ! Please don’t let it slip. Not even a hint! There’s Mike and my work and, my God! What if the kids found out? Or the teachers or other parents at the school? I’d do anything! ANYTHING to make sure it stayed secret!”

“You really mean that?”

“ANYTHING!” she insisted, staring straight into my eyes pleading desperately.

We walked in silence for a minute or two, the dogs grudgingly following at a distance.

“You’ve been very lucky for the last two years,” I eventually told her. “Keeping an affair going all that time without being found out.”

“Until now,” she said unhappily. “And busted by our closest friends too. When I think of all we’ve done together, with our families. What you and Amanda mean to us as friends. After all we’ve all been through with the kids.”

She looked downwards, ashamed.

“After what you saw, I can barely bring myself to look you in the eye.”

I sighed and thought for a moment before replying.

“It was a bit of a shock, to be honest. I’d no idea you were into that kind of thing.”

“We all have our… preferences, don’t we? And what the hell were you doing outside Andrew’s window anyway?” she asked, suddenly annoyed.

“He’d left some important papers at the reception, so I brought them straight round. When I reached the door, I heard… noises, and had to find out what was going on.”

“You heard us… doing it?”

“I heard someone,” I replied, embarrassed. “For a minute I thought it might be…” My voice faded.

Now it was Yvonne’s turn to look perplexed.

“You thought it might be Amanda in there?” she asked in disbelief.

“I suppose so,” I confessed.

She laughed out loud.

“As if your perfect, goody-two-shoes wife would ever let herself get into a situation like that!”

Looking back, this would have been the perfect moment to assure her I understood her situation only too well; to confess that Amanda and I were just as trapped as she and Mike were, though for different reasons. If I had been a proper friend, I could have helped her come to terms with what had happened and protected her.

But I didn’t.

There’s nothing like knowing your wife is being regularly fucked by another man to give you a much harder, much less moral perspective on the world. If Andy could make himself so very successful using and controlling other people through their wives, I reasoned, why shouldn’t I do it too?

Instead of helping my closest female friend, to my shame, all I could think of was the prospect of having a major hold over my closest female friend, and through her, over her soon-to-be-promoted husband too.

“Well, if you had to be discovered, you were lucky,” I said meaningfully.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it wasn’t Amanda and me that saw you, it was me on my own.”

“You can’t imagine how embarrassed that makes me!”

“I’m sure it does Yvonne; at least it does now. But I could see you were enjoying it at the time; really enjoying it. I’m sure you’d like to go on enjoying it too, and you can.”

“Sorry? I don’t understand,” she asked suspiciously.

“Right now, no one else in the world knows about your tastes and your little arrangement. I can make sure it stays that way.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she said, grabbing my hands. “But can I really trust you? Of course, I can trust you; we’ve been friends for years. What I mean is, can I rely on you never to let it slip out even by accident!”

“I’m sure you can, Yvonne,” I said slowly. “I can keep secrets as well as you can. Maybe even better. But if I’m going to keep your cheating secret, we’re just going to have to come to an arrangement of our own, that’s all!”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“An arrangement?”

“An arrangement; an agreement between friends if you like; something that benefits us both.”

“What do you mean…?” she began slowly.

“Yvonne,” I interrupted her, speaking equally slowly and with a strange feeling of confidence building inside me. “You and I have been friends – good friends for a long time, haven’t we?”

“Yes of course, but...”

“And you want me to support you in your little affair by keeping silent. Doesn’t that deserve a bit of reward?”

I paused again for my words to sink in.

“What sort of reward?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well, I would expect the husband of a special friend like you, to support me at work; to make sure things always went the way I wanted them. To back me unconditionally without asking questions.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that. Mike’s his own man and...”

“Your relationship with Andrew suggests otherwise.”

She turned the idea over in her head and from the look on her face, seemed to find it at least worth considering.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Not quite,” I smiled. “You and I share something special now, don’t we? Something secret? A shared secret as potentially damaging as this is bound to cause a few changes. Perhaps our relationship might change? Perhaps become a bit more like the one you have with our mutual friend.”

I could see Yvonne’s brain trying to come to terms with what I had said. First, there was realisation, then denial, then amazement and finally outrage.

“You mean you want to…” she could hardly force out the words.

“To spend a little private time with you too? Perhaps. That might come into it sometimes.”

“You must be mad!”

“I assure you I’m not. Think about it! You’re already deeply involved with Andy, it’s not as if I’m asking you to be unfaithful for the first time, or to do anything Mike hasn’t already persuaded you to do.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this; not from you! I thought you were my friend!”

“I am very much your friend, Yvonne. And Mike’s. If I wasn’t, Mike and most of the company would know all about you by now, maybe even the parents of your kids’ best friends. Think what that would do to your family.”

“You’re a bastard! A cruel bastard!”

“Far from it, Yvonne. I didn’t make you do the things you do with Andy. I didn’t turn you into the kind of woman you now are. No, I’m just the friend who is going to keep your little secret safe; safe from Mike; safe from work; safe from your kids. I’m the one on your side, Yvonne.”

“Oh my God!”

“God has very little to do with this, Yvonne.”

“But I’m… I’m…”

“You’re a very lucky lady, I told you. Not only can you continue your very enjoyable arrangement with Andy, you can continue to help your husband’s flourishing career too!” I chuckled, “All you have to do is add me into your busy diary from time to time. You never know, now I know your darkest desires, I might be able to accommodate them too? How many middle-aged, overweight mothers get an opportunity to fulfil their deepest fantasies with two men?”

She just stood and stared at me, her eyes filling with tears.

“Think about it, Yvonne. It’s a good deal. I’m in a position to help Mike’s career to remember, and if the Turkish deal goes well, I’ll be even better placed.”

I could see her thinking hard. I knew from my own wife’s situation that fidelity is like virginity; once a woman has broken it with one lover, it is so much easier to take another - though that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Even so, she was clearly hesitating. It was time for the final push to send her over the edge.

“If you’re wise and agree to something that could be very pleasant and productive for both of us, the video need never see the light of day!”

“Video? What video?” Her voice sounded numb; stunned.

“Oh, didn’t I mention it? I used my phone to record everything I could see through the window. It’s not a great reproduction, but you can clearly see what’s going on.” I paused to let my words sink in. “Who’s doing it!”

She began to tremble; I thought she might faint or throw up and for a moment I almost relented; almost ran over and hugged her and told her not to worry. But I didn’t; I simply stood my ground and watched the dogs playing while I waited for her to regain some control.

After a while, she seemed to have recovered a little because she stood more upright, held her head higher and her shoulders lost their cowed appearance. Then she looked at me with something more akin to respect than fear in her eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked, though her voice still trembled.

“Well, I’m not in Andrew’s league of course, so shall we say once or twice a month? And not regular, that would be asking to be discovered. I’ll call you if I want you.”

I could almost see her mind working. Once the initial horror had passed, the thought of adding a second lover to her life – a lover who would only call on her a couple of times each month - didn’t seem so bad a deal, especially when the alternative was ruin, public humiliation and the destruction of her family.

“And of course, I’ll expect Mike to back me without question at work. I’m sure you can influence him there, can’t you?”

Again, from her expression, it seemed that, compared with the alternative, this didn’t seem too bad either.

“And you swear you’ll keep this all secret. Not even Amanda will know?” she asked.

“I have to be honest with you; Amanda had already guessed that you and Andy were, shall we say, involved, long before I saw you in his flat. But you have my word, I haven’t told her anything at all about that night.”

There was an even longer pause.

“Can I think it over?”

“Certainly,” I looked at my watch. “You can have ten minutes. After that, I’m going back to the car with my phone and...”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“No, wait! Please! Okay!”

“Okay to come back in ten minutes?”

She took a deep breath.

“No! I don’t need ten minutes. I meant okay; you have a deal!”

I couldn’t suppress the huge smile that crossed my face and the warm glow of success that filled my body. I felt almost ecstatic. My first attempt at blackmail had worked!

“That’s great, Yvonne, you’ve made the right decision. I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

“I already regret it,” she growled but there was no conviction in her voice. “Now let me get back to my family while I still have one.”

She called her dog to heel and began to slip the training collar around its neck.

“One moment!” I stopped her.

“What is it?” she asked, now suspicious of my every word.

“I think,” I began, trying to remember Andy’s words of so many months ago. “I think I’ll take the first instalment on account, right now.”

She turned to me, stunned.

“You don’t mean…?”

“Actually, I think I do!”

“What? Here in the woods?”

“Right here in the woods!”

“But what if someone sees us?”

“You enjoy humiliation, you told me!”

“But…”

“I’d hate you to change your mind overnight, not now we’ve come to such a… productive agreement.”

“But…”

“Take off your boots,” I told her in as commanding a voice as I could muster.

“Here? Now?”

“That’s right Yvonne! Here and now in the trees. Take them off!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Yvonne stared hard into my eyes as if waiting for me to say more, but when I didn’t respond, her whole demeanour changed. Her eyes fixed on mine, a strange half-smile of satisfaction spread over her face as she sat slowly down on a fallen log and carefully removed first one boot, then the other.

“There! Now can I go home?” she asked, placing her sock-covered feet on the leafy floor, her tone of voice telling me she knew instinctively that there would be further instructions.

“Now the leggings, Yvonne!”

She hesitated. The strange look on her face grew stranger; not with the anger and hatred I had expected though I couldn’t yet tell what it was.

“The leggings, Yvonne!” I said firmly.

I saw her hastily looking first left and then right. I laughed cruelly at her.

“There’s no one around to see you. Well, probably no one.”

“Bastard!” she hissed.

“I thought you enjoyed humiliation!”

Her eyes still fixed on mine, Yvonne slipped her fingers into the waistband of her leggings and, raising her bottom from the log, eased the skin-tight garment over her buttocks until the elastic gripped the top of her chubby thighs.

“Right off, Yvonne!” I said calmly, wondering where on earth this cruel streak had come from.

She breathed in deeply as if steeling herself, then slowly rolled the leggings down her heavy thighs, over her knees and down to her ankles before, one leg at a time, tugging them over her feet.

“No knickers, Yvonne? Afraid of panty lines?” I chuckled.

“There! Happy now?” she hissed sitting on the log, naked from the waist down, her knees pressed tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

“Not quite,” I replied calmly. “Spread your legs!”

The odd look on her face became even harder to read.

“Now, Yvonne!”

Her eyes fixed steadfastly on mine, I watched as Yvonne’s knees slowly and obediently parted, her feet spread wide apart on the leafy woodland floor, her bare bottom resting on the damp wood of the log.

“Wider!”

With a strange look on her face that could almost have been pleasure, she obediently complied, opening her legs until they were spread grotesquely wide. I looked at the women who had been our friend for so long; though naked from the waist down, her vulva was invisible, hidden by the front hem of her shirt.

“Now the shirt,” I commanded, “undo those buttons and let it hang open.”

Without a word of protest. Yvonne raised her fingers to her chest and began to unfasten the shirt buttons one by one. Her eyes burned into mine but there was no hatred now; it had turned into something else entirely; something that made them sparkle rather than glower.

When the last button had been undone, she pulled the front open wide revealing an ample bust supported by an off-white bra above the pale pink of her flabby belly.

“Is this what you wanted?” she asked quietly but clearly. I was sure I could hear something of a thrill in her voice.

I looked at the woman who had been a close friend for so many years as she exposed the most private parts of her body to me in the deep green woodland. Her shaved vulva was partly concealed by the rolls of flesh on her tummy but her slit and the dark salamander tattoo were a clearly visible dark gash against the pale flesh at the top of her chubby thighs.

“Have you seen enough now?” she hissed, making no attempt to cover her nakedness.

“Not quite. I’m sure you’re feeling a little... sensitive down there after all Andy did. Why don’t you touch yourself and find out?”

“What?”

“I asked you to touch yourself!”

“Here?” she asked but it was more for clarity than in protest, as if she wanted to hear my command again for its own sake.

“Right here in the wood! Open those soft lips and touch yourself!”

A strange sparkle came into her accusing eyes as her right hand slowly and tantalizingly descended to her groin. She paused, her eyes still fixed on mine for a long time then slowly drew her long middle finger the full length of her slit from its base to her clitoris.

“Mmmm. You mean like this?” she asked, her voice low and excited.

I nodded. Yvonne immediately repeated the action, then fingered herself a third time, then a fourth, her breathing becoming deeper with each stroke. I moved closer until I was standing only a few feet away then crouched down in front of her, my face level with her vulva.

“Does it feel good, Yvonne?” I hissed as she continued to slowly stroke her slit.

I could see the lubrication beginning to flow, glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

The sound of voices drifted towards us as if a family were some distance away but approaching. For a moment I saw Yvonne flinch and look at me, but I shook my head.

“Keep going, Yvonne,” I said coldly. “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? The risk? The danger of being humiliated in public?”

I heard her sigh noisily and her fingers worked harder between her thighs.

“I’ve never... done this... in public before...” she whispered.

“In the open? Where anyone could see you?”

She shook her head, her breathing growing deeper and noisier.

“N... Never!”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Mmmm... Yesssss,” she agreed, her fingering growing faster. “Mmmm, MMMM!”

She moaned loudly; I realised that she had slipped a finger deep into her vagina and was working it back and forth and from side to side. Her eyes closed and a look of effort and concentration came over her face as she conspicuously thrust a second finger alongside the first.

A wet, slurping sound rose from her groin as she bent her wrist and thrust the two invaders deeper and deeper inside.

“Yes! Oh yes!” she moaned.

The nearby voices were growing louder and closer; an older man’s deep tones, at least two children’s voices and the yapping of a small dog which our two hounds found immediately fascinating and went off to investigate.

“They’re getting closer, Yvonne,” I hissed. “Does that excite you?”

“Mmmm yes!” her voice was almost a growl as her fingers flashed across and inside her vagina.

“What if they see you?” I hissed. “What will they see?”

“Mmmm oh yes…”

“What will they see Yvonne?” I insisted.

“Ooohhhh... a slut… they’ll see a slut…”

“Is that what Andrew calls you?”

“Mmmm… It’s what I am… I’m a slut!”

Her eyes opened then closed again as her fingers delved deep into her vagina, her arm and shoulder bent awkwardly as she searched awkwardly for her elusive g-spot. I moved closer until my mouth was alongside her head.

“That’s right Yvonne. Tell me again!” I whispered hoarsely.

“Mmmm yesssss... I’m a... a slut... a fucking slut!”

“And what are you doing, slut?”

“Fingering...”

“Fingering what?”

“Fingering my… my cunt.”

“Your what?”

“My cunt!”

“Louder... Yvonne!”

“My CUNT!”

Her voice was almost a howl as her fingers moved faster and faster between her chubby thighs. Even from a distance, I could see the lubrication oozing from her vulva and the faint but distinctive aroma of a woman on heat wafted towards me.

Despite the risk and humiliation, my friend was perversely but very clearly enjoying herself.

“You like that, slut?” I growled.

“Oh God, yes!”

“You need to cum?”

“Yes! Yes please!”

“You want to cum? Even with people nearby?”

“Please yes! I need to cum!”

I leaned closer until my mouth was next to her ear.

“Then you’d better cum now, hadn’t you?”

“Aren’t you... going to... going to fuck me?”

Her voice sounded pained, disappointed, almost alarmed but her fingers continued their work between her fat thighs.

“Why would I want to fuck a slut like you, Yvonne?”

“But I need to...”

“If you need to cum then you’ll have to do it yourself.” The voices and yapping were close now, barely the other side of the thick hedge. “And you’d better do it quickly!”

The response was immediate; Yvonne’s chubby thumb rose to the top of her slit and began to play with the large dark nub now clearly visible. Within seconds it had swollen and firmed, protruding grotesquely from her between her puffy lips.

Images of Andy’s apartment filled my mind; Yvonne lying there, tied to the bed, her clitoris swollen, huge and angry as the pump drew it mercilessly into the glass tube between her thighs. It was growing quickly now, swelling like a man’s erection as Yvonne’s expert fingers explored its every sensitive part.

“Mmmmmm!” she moaned, her fingers moving faster and faster.

“How does it feel now?” I asked softly into her ear.

“Mmmmm... gooooodddd!” she moaned again, her fingers moving quickly and positively over and around her engorged clitoris.

“You like frigging yourself out here in the woods?”

“Bastard!” she croaked but there was only arousal and lust in her voice, “Mmmmmm, MMMM Yes! Yes!”

“Then cum now, Yvonne! Right here in front of me! Cum on your hand right now!”

“Mmmmmm, MMMMMMMM GODDDDDD! YYYEEESSSSSS!”

And then to my astonishment, the close family friend I had known for so long brought herself to a massive orgasm right before my eyes. Her head fell back and her mouth opened in dumb surprise as a huge wave of climax ripped through her body. I saw her eyes close tightly, then spring wide open, her pupils huge and dark, the whites bright and staring as incoherent noises escaped her throat.

“Let yourself go, slut,” I hissed, “Let it happen!”

A second shudder of orgasm rippled through her, making her whole upper body shake and her chubby thighs twist and turn as her active fingers abandoned her nub and plunged deep into the caverns below, twisting left and right, reaching deep into her soft body.

“Oooooohhh-mmmyyy-Goooddddd!!”

In a second, the fingers that had brought so much pleasure from within returned to her dark, hard clitoris where they became a mere blur. Seconds later a third wave of orgasm washed over her chubby body as the approaching family reached the gate into the woodland.

I clicked my fingers twice; to my relief the dog came to heel first time. Yvonne’s third climax had exhausted her, and for a moment she sat panting helplessly on the fallen log, gasping for breath. I could smell the tang of her vaginal juices in the air, on her hand and between her still-spread thighs.

She raised her head and her eyes met mine. For a split second I saw a mixture of pleasure, relief, satisfaction and total submission on her familiar face and for a moment wondered if, despite years of supposed friendship, I had ever known this woman at all.

Then she dissolved in a frenzy of leggings, hiding in the undergrowth, desperately trying to cover her wet, puffy nakedness before she was discovered.

She made it by seconds.

*

Barely five minutes later we were walking back to the car park, my friend’s red face, flushed chest and unsteady walk the only indication that anything untoward had happened.

As we kissed goodbye by the cars, I inhaled the strong scent of recent climax on her body, so similar and yet so very different from my own wife’s incredible post-orgasmic aroma.

“When will you call?” Yvonne asked, a note of pleading in her voice.

“When I want you,” I replied, deliberately vague, then added: “Did you enjoy it?”

“Couldn’t you tell?” she smiled, embarrassed.

“It won’t be too unpleasant a duty for you then,” I stated rather than asked.

She smiled again and squeezed my hand.

“I think it might work out well for both of us,” she paused. “Master!”

The word unsettled me; this type of relationship was new to me and I hadn’t asked to be called anything other than my name.

But from that moment I knew that she wasn’t just Andy’s whore; she had become mine too!

What I had just become was less certain.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I’m home!” I called out cheerfully as I entered the kitchen through the back door, preceded by a tired but enthusiastic hound.

The kids were seated at the kitchen table, talking and arguing while their mother served them a late lunch. To my surprise, on the worktop next to the fridge stood a very large and very attractive bouquet of flowers. I crossed over and read the card which declared they had been sent ‘with sincere gratitude’ by the Turkish Embassy.

I looked across at Amanda and raised an eyebrow. She nodded and smiled ruefully, then passed me a long narrow box that also bore the Embassy’s seal. I opened it and inside found a long, very expensive and hallmarked solid gold necklace along with a small handwritten card to ‘the beautiful, intelligent lady with the deep blue eyes.’

“He’s nothing if not appreciative,” I said somewhat sarcastically.

Amanda shook her head anxiously and nodded at the kids, but they were too involved in their squabbling to notice us. I looked at her, then at the necklace and an icy coldness entered my belly.

“This isn’t the end of it, you know?” I said quietly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” my wife replied.

“I can’t see him wanting me to travel to Ankara without you, not now,” I continued. “How do you feel about that? There’ll be… expectations! Could you go through all that again?”

Amanda looked into my eyes and sighed deeply. I saw sadness and resignation amidst the deep blue. With her body still in discomfort from her first encounter with the man, could she really contemplate a second performance, this time longer and more carefully planned?

“I’ll have to,” she eventually told me. “Whatever it takes. Mandy will see through what she started, however unappealing it might be.”

She paused, looking carefully at me.

“You just make sure you’re up to it too!”

Strangely, this time I knew I could and would handle it. With both my wife and now Yvonne prepared to prostitute themselves for my career, I could see myself going a long way. Perhaps there were others I could influence in a similar way if I tried hard enough and looked in the right places.

I had taken an important step that morning with Yvonne. She and Mike were our very closest family friends; a couple – no, a family we had known for years, celebrated birthdays and been on holiday with many times.

And yet she had let me humiliate her out in the park with barely a murmur of protest. What was worse, it was almost as if she had expected it. She had certainly enjoyed it!

I sincerely hoped she still could remain a good friend, but after Thursday night and this morning, things between us must inevitably change. We would have to see just how far and how fast the changes would go and where they would take us.

Suddenly I realized how cold and calculating my feelings had become. Perhaps I had started to behave as Andy would behave. Perhaps the more I behaved like him, the more I would think like him. And perhaps the more I thought like him, the further I would progress.

Perhaps there were worse role models in life!

After all, it wasn’t Andy who had defrauded the company for so much money, it wasn’t Andy who was willing to let his wife be fucked on a regular basis just to save her thieving husband from jail and help his career.

Perhaps Yvonne had been right; perhaps the real bastard was me after all!