The years passed, the frantic searching, each of the other lessened in its intensity. Now 30 years on it was their wedding anniversary. After 30 years - a very special anniversary she thought.

A week ago as Bernard had made no mention of any special evening, she had mentally prepared for a memorable meal at home, hopefully to be followed by a return to their former passionate loving. That evening she had laid the table carefully. The silverware polished, candles in their holders, flowers from the garden as a table centrepiece. A dozen oysters on ice in the ‘frig (his favourite starter), succulent veal strips with a little fragrant basmati rice for her to rapidly yet tenderly cook in a cream sauce as he finished his oysters and sipped his Muscadet wine. Afterwards, a crème Brûlé, Armagnac, coffee. And then, bed. Or hanging from the ceiling if he wanted her like that !!

All preparations made, she showered, sparingly used her favourite L’Air du Temps talc and cologne (and just a little touch in her pubic hair – and why not – at the base of her spine too).

Her mind drifted back to her first true intimacy with him, the time he had shown her that his needs were sudden and forceful. The time that she had become his nervously willing and submissive girl. They had dated twice before and when he had kissed her good night she had felt the maleness of him as he held her closely in his arms.

That evening they had gone to a disco and she had dressed in yellow, her mini skirt cut two inches above her knee softly hugging her hips. Her top had been a boob tube, nothing beneath, helping keep her cool during the heat of a summer evening. As she twisted and turned to the music the full skirt flared just below her hips revealing the white lace of her brief panties. After a while he led her outside.

In a dark corner of the building he had pulled her to him and his pressure was again instantly there. They kissed and she had felt his hands gentling her, smoothing her back, her hips, sides, his thumbs just nudging the side of her breasts. As she reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck he put his hands on her firm rounded cheeks and pulled her to him. She felt his need for her prodding against her tummy. One of his hands cupped her breast and she let it explore the outside of her, tingling at his touch and then he was pushing the material higher, revealing her firm uplifted breasts with her nipples straining to reach him. There was a searing flash between her legs as he rubbed his thumb over her and his other hand lifted the hem of her mini dress. She tried to pull his hand away as he let it slide up her thigh, over her silken inner skin but he took both of her hands and held them high above her head, gripped tightly in one of his.

“Don’t move” he whispered “just stand like this.”

“No, no Bern, please don’t, someone might come, someone might SEE” she said urgently.

“Carol will you just do as I tell you. Now STAND STILL and don’t take your arms down. I’m going to let go of your wrists but DON’T take you arms down. Do you understand?

“Please don’t, not here. Please Bern let me go.”

“For the last time Carol, stand quite still with your arms up or I’ll take you into the middle of the car park and do it there where anybody can see.”

Scared at his strength and the threat of being exposed to any couple who came out for a cuddle, she closed her eyes in silent submission. The grip on her wrists relaxed and he cautiously released her. She stood as he had demanded, her back to the wall, the covering of her breasts pulled high, her breasts now naked to the night air and her arms raised above her head. She again felt him lifting the hem of her mini dress, his fingers drifting higher and then the electrifying touch of his finger in the gap between her legs. He slipped his finger under the edge of her panties and she felt the cool kiss of night on her lower lips. The back of his fingers had brushed her pubic hair then turned to feel along her slit. He grabbed the gusset of her panties and pulled down to give himself more room to feel her hidden womanhood. His hand was inside her panties, feeling her hairs, her slit, and the wetness running from her. His middle finger discovered her hole and pushed for entrance. She whimpered as her tight muscle tried to deny him but his skilled finger probed and circled and finally pushed again, her body yielded and she felt the tip of him inside her.

“Bern, please don’t, please stop, its hurting me. Pleeaaase no not here” she whimpered.

“Open wider. Spread for me. DO IT NOW” he commanded.

Her mind whirling she felt her feet move apart, opening for him as he had demanded. His hands moved to the waistband and she felt him tugging, felt her panties begin to slip down and over her hips. Her tiny protection was slipping down her legs leaving her helplessly exposed to him. He pulled them down to her knees

“Now take them off. DO IT CAROL just DO IT.”

She stepped out of her shoes and obediently reached down and slid them over her feet. His fingers had fumbled with the catch at the waist of her skirt. She felt it loosen around her and as he released her zipper, it tumbled down her legs to lie puddled at her feet. His hands grabbed the boob tube and pulled it over her head, discarding it with her skirt. She was now totally naked in the night air. She stood before him, one hand covering her pubic hair and the other arm across her nipples shielding the nakedness of her heaving breasts.

“Put you arms over you head and open your legs” he ordered her.

“No, Bern please don’t make me do this. Somebody will see me” she pleaded.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the darkness of the corner. She saw a couple walking to their car and he dragged her towards them.

“NO BERN NO, please, please NO” she whispered “Don’t let them see me like this.”

He pushed her back into the corner.

“Right, arms over your head and legs spread wide for me.”
She mutely raised her arms and spread her legs. He was fumbling at the front of his trousers and she heard the sound of his zipper. She couldn’t help looking down as he opened himself, reached inside and pulled out his rampant cock. He held it in his hand, massaging its length, preparing it for her. He looked at her and saw the pale ivory body before him with its patch of dark pubic hair, her breasts proudly lifting as she nervously panted. Her nipples were hard, pointing, a deep blood red in the moonlight. He stepped closer and she felt the roughness of his cotton shirt pressing against the soft skin of her naked breasts. His hand cupped a breast, the other holding his cock and nudging the end of it between her open thighs. He stooped slightly and rubbed the blunt knob end on her clit and she jerked and whimpered at the erotic touch. He coated his cock with her juices, flowing heavily into her slit.

“Good girl, Carol. Good girl. Good girl” he crooned. “Now take ONE hand down and open your cunt with your fingers. I’m going to fuck you.”

Now totally and submissively under his control, she reached down and as she slipped her hand between her legs she felt the hard silky cock that was going to penetrate her. Her finger found her hole and slipped inside. She stretched herself and inserted a second.

“That’s it. That’s a GOOD girl. Are you ready for me now Carol? Do you want my cock in you? Do you want me to fuck you?”

She moaned and pumped with her fingers inside herself.

“Carol you must answer me. Are you ready for me? Do you want my cock to fuck you?”

Her reply was a strangled “Yes.” He told her to hold his cock in her hand and as he lifted her, to put it against her hole. As he lowered her gently she felt it penetrate her, possess her and as he began to pump inside she responded and began to grind her clit against his pubic bone.

“Is this good, Carol. Do you like it?”

“Oh god, oh god do it to me. Give it to me. Don’t talk just do me” she begged.

She emerged from her reverie, conscious that her breasts were now tight with the anticipation of the evening, her pussy already moist and impatient for his homecoming.


He had said he would be home at 6.30 p.m. At 7.15 he phoned to say he had to work late, could not be home before midnight as he had to drive out of town. He did not say “Happy Anniversary”.

There had been no flowers, no card, no romantic dinner, no loving, no attempt to exchange that wondrous touching and stroking and kissing, ever more intimate as their emotions took over from their minds. And importantly, no domination and no erotic submission.

She had been suspecting, as his need to work late became more frequent and his affection for her became imperceptibly more offhand, his manner microscopically more indifferent, that he might be “seeing someone” but had pushed it to the back of her mind. Now it surfaced as a fearsome possibility. Would he? Could he? Had he? Who with? Oh God what if he had? What should she do? She miserably drank a glass of chilled white wine, another, another. Cleared the table – threw away her carefully prepared sauce, sat, sobbed. Fell asleep on her couch.

Carol woke at midnight stiff and cramped and went to her lonely bed. He was not yet home. She slipped out of her clothes and examined herself in the chevalier mirror. Her figure was trim, lean, toned from her exercise regime. Her breasts? Well ok so it was 40 years now since they had begun to show her budding womanhood, but my god she thought they were in pretty good shape. Her tummy had a little embonpoint, a little roundness that exercise could not totally eradicate. Her legs were really quite good she thought, and her thighs with the enticing gap at the top which had always so much excited him, her slit shrouded under the covering of soft dark curls, surely, surely they were a gift any man would treasure. And her rear!!! No complaints there she was sure, still taut, enticingly rounded.

She had bought a new ‘honeymoon’ nightie, virginally white to set off her golden tan, edged with lace, held together by two ties above the waist, flowingly sensual and easily to be opened wherever he wanted to explore her. Her eyes prickling with tears she folded it and put it away in her ‘intimate’ drawer. She took out a cotton nightie and drew it over her head and lay on her lonely bed. Suddenly she rose, went to her undies drawer and took out a plain pair of cotton panties, angrily pulling them to cover her; her protest, her protection, her denial to him of herself. She lay down again. Her eyes closed and she slept.

Later she was aware he had eased himself in beside her. Pretending sleep, she had her back to him and was aware of his breathing, rapidly becoming heavy and finally there was the deep rumble of a near snore as he passed finally into sleep. She lay wondering … had he … had he done it that night with another …. on their anniversary … had he celebrated her 30th wedding anniversary inside another woman’s body?

She slipped carefully out of bed and crept to the bathroom. Once inside she eased the door closed, clicked on the light, opened the laundry basket. At the bottom lay her own used clothing of that day, and concealed beneath hers were his shirt, socks, and underpants. She lifted his shirt, no make-up on the collar … then she caught it, the faint lingering smell of a perfume not her own. His underpants now, inside out, ahhhhh smears of his own male sexuality leaking unrealised into his clothing. She returned the clothing beneath her own as he had ‘hidden’ them. What fools men were. To think putting them under her own would not make them MORE noticeable when she came to empty the basket.

Just one more careful check though. She gently slipped back into bed and listened to his breathing. She put her head, her nose to his body. Around his hair the same faintly foreign perfume. Around his body the smell of soap not used in their own bathroom. Then it hit her … if he had been working and travelling then he could not have showered or bathed. This was a pathetic attempt to conceal the smell of rampant female sex, coated over his body by his lover.


The shrill of the alarm clock brought both to a blurred semi-awake-ness. Carol stood, her mind still pushing back the curtains of sleep, and went into the bathroom. After, when she had washed her eyes and hands she draped her housecoat about her, went to the kitchen, started the breakfast preparations. Fully awake now Carol played over in her mind the agony of last evening and the callous rejection by her husband. For more than 30 years he had dominated her, demanding a complete submission to his every need. At times he had humiliated her by his demands in public places, her parents’ home, anywhere his fancy took him. She was determined she would not be humiliated further. She went through the options she had and slowly, reluctantly, came to her decision. As she heard his shower running, she continued to complete her morning tasks.

She would bring to this grey morning as close a sense of normality as she could. She would see him off to his office as usual and would make no mention of her growing hatred of him.

During the day she dug out of the attic all her old University text and research books. She refreshed her memory from the pages and decided on the most simple and innocuous ingredients. She needed items that were easy to buy, everyday items that no shop or store would give a second thought to. Finally she put all her study books and notes into her car, took her degree certificate in its protective roll and drove down the motorway to a distant city where she dumped everything into a skip ready to be taken to the incinerator. In the city she was able to get her key ingredient from a snake bite kit. She already had everything else to hand.

Back at home she prepared a glass container with the two essential items and capped it firmly. She tied the neck with string and looped it over a rafter in the garage, leading the string over nails fixed in the wood so that it led to ground level, concealing it under a metal sheet they used to avoid oil leaks staining the floor. As a car drove into the garage it would unavoidably run over the metal sheet.

That evening Bernard again “worked late” but she waited for his return. He seemed disconcerted, a little surprised to see her reading and waiting.

“Hello darling”, she said, “you must be absolutely exhausted. Can I get you a whisky?”

“My love I’m so sorry to be neglecting you and working as I am. A scotch would be lovely – shall we each have one in bed?”

Her heart lifted, perhaps she was wrong, perhaps tonight…..?

He went into the bathroom as she poured their drinks. Hurrying to her drawer she rapidly donned her special nightie for him and slipped into bed, her drink in her hand.

He came to her wearing his sleeping shorts, took his drink and they sat side by side. The silence was devastating. She finished her drink and lay back on top of the bedclothes, her nightie covering her tantalising feminine parts yet offering her gifts to him. He finished his scotch, switched off his light and lay beside her. She reached her hand out to him, brushed his shoulder lightly with her fingertips.

“Bernard ? Darling ?”

“Carol I’m absolutely exhausted, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I would be very good for you tonight can we leave it for a few days?” he said quietly.

She withdrew her touch, an icy hand gripping her heart. She heard him slide into sleep. He hadn’t even LOOKED at her flimsy garment or the way it concealed but revealed.

Again she checked the laundry and again she smelt the stranger’s perfume. His underpants were again marked with an earlier excitement. Once again the odour of a different soap lingered on his skin. Her stomach was a hard ball within her, her throat tight with the grief of her rejection. Well she now knew what she had to do. In two days time she would follow Bernard by a later train to the City. She would tell him of shopping she must do … of an arranged meeting with a friend. She would say that she would like to have dinner in town and book an hotel room. He would accept that as quite a normal thing for her to do. She continued to mull over the final detailed preparations she must make.

“Morning, Darling” from him as he entered the kitchen, showered, impeccably dressed in his city suit.

“Good Morning, my Sweet…Darling I want to go to town in a couple of days, stay over at the Connaught. I shall phone Janet and ask her to meet in town, shop a little and have a girls’ evening later. Do you mind?”

“So…you won’t be home that night?” he asked. Just a trifle over eagerly she thought.

“No, my love. Not unless you’d prefer I didn’t stay over. It isn’t terribly important; you know Janet, she can be exhausting. If you’d like me to come home then I shall come home my Darling. But if I stay over I’ll call you from the hotel to let you know I‘m back there safely and not in some drunken stupor with Janet. Will you be here?”

“No, no…you have a nice evening in town…Of course I will be here. Call me when you’re safely in your room and then I won’t worry about you having been mugged” he said with a stilted attempt at humour.

Carol immediately phoned and made her reservation, making sure that he heard her.


Two days later she made the train with a minute to spare, just being able to force herself into a corner of the crowded commuter train. Theirs was the last station before the city and a journey of 30 minutes lay ahead. It promised to be a hot sultry day in town and Carol had dressed in a light tan cotton dress, shirt neck and fully cut from the hips to allow comfort in the heat. She wore cotton bra and panties again for comfort and just hoped and prayed that someone had opened all of the windows to allow air to flow.

As the train lurched forward, Carol was thrown back against the person behind her who in turn grabbed at her hips to stop her from stumbling.

“Sorry…so sorry” Carol gasped to the person.

“Quite all right, no problem” came a pleasant well-spoken masculine voice.

The train was lurching as it threaded its way through points, throwing them forcibly against each other and she was suddenly aware that the man, standing with his back wedged in the corner of the coach, was still holding her hips to steady her. She also became aware that as the train threw her against him there was a definite bulge that greeted her firm bottom cheeks. She was tempted to turn around and slap his face, but suddenly thought “well where’s the harm. It’s quite a compliment” and she giggled to herself. As the train steadied into its journey he continued to hold her hips, but now he was holding her firmly against himself. Through her thin cotton dress she could feel his lump throb as it pressed her. She felt her tummy contract with the touch of him, felt her breasts tighten in her bra and a wicked moistening between her legs. He was now quite blatantly humping himself at her bottom and she stood firmly as he pushed and relaxed as he withdrew. They hurtled into the darkness of a tunnel when suddenly the train came to a screeching halt. The lights went out and there were muffled screams and exclamations in the darkness of the carriage.

There was a click and a metallic voice said “Ladies and gentlemen. There is an accident at a station ahead of us and we have temporarily lost power. There is nothing to alarm you. The problem is being dealt with but we may have a 10 minute delay as we wait.” Mains power was off, but there were some lights from the train battery packs, but the corner in which she stood was very dim.

She sensed the stranger put his mouth close to her ear and whisper “How very fortunate.”
His breath tickled her ear and she shivered. He was again pushing at her with his thighs and she willingly stood without a murmur. His hands had dropped from her hips to the hem of her dress and she felt it being lifted. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her, what he was doing to her. This had been Bernard at his most daringly exciting. She shivered again with the erotic situation, surrounded by commuters, her skirt being lifted by a stranger with a rampant cock in his trousers.

Her skirt was now up past her panties and he was tugging them down, over her hips, baring the cheeks of her bottom. She felt him fumbling between them, felt his hand move down as he unzipped, then ohmygod his knob end being rubbed up and down between her bared cheeks. He held it firmly and moved it from side to side, easing it into the warm tightness. She felt her feet separate without her conscious effort so as to give him more room. He was holding her hips again, pushing his cock at her, rubbing the knob along past her anus and to the leaking wetness of her pussy hole. Suddenly he held her firmly and pushed, she felt just the very tip of his cock slip into her hole with the force of his pressure, and then it was throbbing and jerking as he spurted his seed between her thighs. She heard him gasping in her ear, and a cloth, a handkerchief was thrust into her hand. She reached behind and wiped herself, and then held it as a pad to blot his semen as she pulled her panties back around her middle. Her heart was thudding with the intense feelings he had created within her. Her pussy was soaking her slit and she thanked god for the handkerchief, acting as a sanitary pad to prevent her shame leaking onto her dress.

He leaned towards her and she again felt his soft breath as he asked “Are you staying the night in town?”

She had whispered back “Yes.” “Where?” “Connaught”

He had then asked what she was doing in town in a more conversational voice and she had told him of meeting her friend and taking in a show. He had whispered what time would she be at her hotel for the night and she had said she couldn’t be sure. Then as they thundered into her station, he had asked her to leave a note for “Alan Sandars” at the reception desk, and to put a note of her room number inside it. Before she could reply the doors had opened and there was the usual pressure of commuters forcing their way off the train. She looked vainly for him – she had no idea what the man looked like who had made her yield to him.

She took a taxi to her hotel, uncomfortably aware of the padded handkerchief pressing into her. She hastened to register and hurried to her room, throwing off her clothes. THANK GOD there were no stains on her dress. She peeled off her panties and pulled the handky from between her cheeks. It was covered in his cum and her own juices. As she unfolded it she saw the initial AS embroidered in the corner.

She showered, washing the sticky remains of the coupling from between her legs and around her anus. As her finger slipped over it with the silky touch of soap, she remembered his fat knob rubbing her there. Her mind replayed what she had allowed – encouraged – to happen in the crowded train, and suddenly her fingers were moving in their familiar rhythm over her clit and in and over and around and oh god I’m cummmmiiinnngggg as she exploded onto her fingers. She dried, lay on her bed and drifted into asleep.

She awoke an hour later and dressed. She rang Janet on her mobile and they arranged to meet for lunch.

The two friends had an enjoyable afternoon shopping, ate a deliciously expensive meal at Simpson’s in The Strand and had a wonderfully enjoyable time watching “Mamma Mia”, the Abba show. Janet had to catch her train back into the suburbs and Carol walked into her hotel at 11 o’clock, still feeling high from the pleasure of the show and the excitement of the music. As she asked for her key at reception the thought of the stranger on the train crossed her mind. What did he say was his name? Should she leave a note …? No of course she shouldn’t. It was just a folly. Best to be forgotten.

She entered the lift and went to her room, undressed and after the heat of the evening and the theatre, she luxuriated in the feeling of the room's air conditioning on her skin. She took another shower and as her fingers cupped her mound, lathering herself, she held the spray head of the shower to herself and felt the familiar tightening in her tummy. There was a tingle of excitement, not to be denied in her loins. She shut out the thought of the train journey and tried to concentrate on the show but it was a losing battle. Without conscious thought she found herself writing her room number on a slip of hotel paper, sealed it in an hotel envelope and addressed it to “Alan Sandars”. She slipped into her undies, put on her dress and went to the desk, asking the clerk to give it to her “brother” if he called at the hotel. She rushed back to her room before she could take the envelope back.

Again she undressed, convinced that she would hear no more from the devilish Mr Alan Sandars.


She wore her pretty pale yellow silk nightie with a delicate Japanese flower design, with a silken over robe, caught at the neck and waist. Her mind was still very active and she reviewed the last details she had completed before leaving her home. She mentally checked her every action and it seemed foolproof.

She smiled at herself in her mirror, satisfied with her handiwork, and tuned the radio to a classical program. She sat at her dressing table, humming to the soft background music and prepared to remove her make-up

She jumped, almost fell off her stool as there was a knock at her door. Her heart beat faster, her face flushed … could it be .. no it would just be an hotel employee with ..

She was at the door asking who was there. Through the door came a soft response “Alan. Please let me in”.

“No, no, please go away I’ve changed my mind. Please go away. Please.”

“I have champagne my lovely lady. Please let me share it with you and I will leave right away. If you don’t let me in I shall beat on the door and make a commotion. You wouldn’t want that would you? Please, please let me in I won’t hurt you and I just want to say thank you for the train journey.”

Carol’s heart was pounding, her senses telling her to call the desk and have the man removed .. but he would have the paper with her room number and the desk clerk would remember her giving it to him. Oh god why did she do it? It would be a public humiliation.

“If I let you in do you promise to behave and leave when we’ve opened the champagne?” she whispered at the door.

“Yes, yes I promise as an ex Boy Scout to leave as soon as you tell me.”

Carol hesitated then unfastened the door chain, twisted the door handle and nervously inched the door open. She peeped out and saw before her a slim, dark suited man, perhaps late 50’s in age, perfectly white hair, a bronzed handsome face with an engaging smile. Held high on his chest was a bottle of Moet Champagne. He stood there one hand by his throat holding the neck of the bottle, the other supporting its base, making no effort to enter.

“May I come in?” he gently asked.

“I .. I .. er .. well yes then” and she opened the door to him.

As he entered her telephone gave its soft burble of sound. He hand flew to her mouth. “Oh god what now” she wondered.

Picking it up, she heard Bernard’s voice. “Hello Darling. Are you OK ? Did you have a nice evening with Janet? How was the show?”

Her face flushed, she could feel the heat down to her breasts. She turned her head on the man and walked into her bedroom. Closing the door she put excitement and pleasure into her voice as she told Bernard of her evening. At last he rang off. “Yes” she thought “now you’ve checked I‘m in town and in my hotel room, you’ll get off your mobile and take that trollop to my bed.” Her eyes prickled at his betrayal, and she swallowed, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She lay face down on her bed, gripping the pillows tightly and pulling them to her face.


In his car, Bernard turned to his companion. “It’s OK, she’s in her hotel room. At last we can have a full night to ourselves. Another five minutes my dear and we will be safely parked and heading to heavenly bliss.” He reached his hand sideways, put it on his companion’s lap and felt the stiffening under his fingers. “Oh yes that’s my boy. Always ready. Take it out for me.” His business personal assistant reached down and unzipped himself, unfastened his waistband and, pushing down his shorts, pulled out his swelling cock. Bernard wrapped his hand around it and rubbed, pulling it, cupping down to feel the fullness of the young man’s ball sac.

“Oh, Peter, am I going to have fun tonight. Tonight I will make you explode as you never have before.”

“Bernie, promises, promises. Can I lie in Carol’s place when you fuck me .. god I want to be in her place for you. Let me feel what she has felt of you. I want to feel like her when you spunk me. I wish the bitch could see me in her place taking your cock”

“Peter you won’t know what’s hit you tonight, this will be a blast like we’ve never had.”

He engaged gear and drove the remainder of his journey. In his driveway he electronically raised the garage doors and drove slowly forward, entering with his car lights on full beam.

He rolled his car into his side of the garage. As the wheel passed over the metal plate the weight of the car burst a paper package of match heads beneath the it. They flared intensely and severed the string that held the jar suspended. The jar fell, smashing onto the concrete floor and exploded with the power of a stick of dynamite. The searing flash and heat of the explosion set off a sympathetic explosion with a mixture of diesel and a common household powder. The effect was total in its awesome power. The garage disintegrated, its occupants killed instantly, the fuel in an almost full tank adding to a total devastation. A sizeable part of the house blew apart, collapsed, and the conflagration would consume the remains of the building.

A quarter of mile away the apparently foolishly dropped balaclava with its eyeholes would undoubtedly be found at the edge of the woods. Further away lay a leaflet protesting at animal testing in laboratories..


Carol was vaguely aware of her bedroom door being opened. She turned her head to see him standing there looking down at her, his coat now off and his ……. MY GOD he wore a priest’s dog collar. She thrust down with her arms, lifting herself to get off the bed, but he was too quick. He pushed her flat, his strong hands on her shoulders, holding her down. He climbed on top and lay over the length of her.

“No, no, no … you’re a priest, stop, please stop, you said you wouldn’t. Don’t oh please don’t” she begged.

His calm, educated deep voice spoke softly in her ear, making her tingle with the flutter of his breath. “Tell me your name, my deliciously sexy lady… what is your name?”

Incredibly she heard herself say “Carol. But please go. You promised you would go when I asked you.”

He chuckled “but Carol you were such a good girl on the train, let’s make it even better now.”

He lifted his hips and pulled at her over robe. Under it he discovered her nightie. “Carol I will let you go. But you MUST take your gowns off. Do you understand? You must take your gowns OFF. I will help you, but they must come off.”

She moaned into her pillow. The words spoken in the same way that Bernard had commanded in the past entered her subconscious. Her will in this situation, eroded over more than 30 years, made her next protest weak, obviously on the verge of total submission.

“Carol, I am going to stand now. I am going to sit on your dressing chair. You will get off the bed and come and stand in front of me. Do you understand?”

She whimpered. “Carol did you hear me. Do you understand what you MUST DO? I am going to sit in your chair now .. you must come to me there.”

She felt his weight lift from her, felt the springs of the bed lift her body.

“Carol I am here .. I am waiting for you. Come to me. Don’t make me have to fetch you.”

She turned her head and saw him sitting waiting. There was the familiar roaring in her ears, his commands having their usual effect on her submissive nature. She sat and edged off the bed and stood, her head held low.

“Good girl, that’s very, very good. Good girl. Now come here to me. Do as I tell you and come to me.”

Her feet moved hesitantly towards him. She stood before him. “Now look at me Carol.”
She lifted her chin and saw his smiling handsome face, saw again the symbol of his profession around his neck. “Closer, Carol, really close.” She shuffled forward until he stopped her, inches away from his knees.

“Keep looking at me all the time. Do NOT look away and DO NOT close your eyes. Look at me all the time and let your arms rest by your side. Do you understand Carol?”
She nodded. “Tell me you understand. Tell me what you must do.” She repeated his instructions. “Good girl. You are doing very well. Very well.”

His hands reached down and lifted the hem of her robe. His fingers were cool on her legs as they caressed behind her knees. A hand slipped softly up the outside of each of her legs. She stiffened as they approached her mid-thigh.

“Open wider, Carol. Open for me. I must see it as well as feel it. I must see the treasure that I’ve only touched, only guessed at.”

“Nooo. No please go. Please leave me as you promised. Don’t make me do this.”

“Carol we agreed you would do everything I told you. Now open wide for me.”

As her feet parted making herself more available to him, her mind vaguely thought, “But we didn’t agree, we didn’t agree. I didn’t agree” even as she spread herself wider and wider at the pressure of his hands on her inner thigh. His hands were under her robe, under her nightie, hidden from view as they reached her private place. The tip of his middle finger drew gently along her pouting swelling lips and she flinched and made her whimpering noise of pleasure. His finger probed and separated her lips, finding the cream of her longing seeping from her. He circled her, searching her, finding her. She felt the pressure of him as his finger demanded entry, demanded her total surrender. She tensed as she felt the tightness of her resistance forced into submission, and the hardness of his finger entered her. She closed her eyes as he worked his finger, stimulating her nerves and the flow of her message of capitulation. She swayed, open legged, unsteady in her growing lust. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the linen of his shirt under her hands.

“I said keep your eyes OPEN Carol”. She looked at him, still smiling, the tip of his tongue between his full lips. “You are doing very well Carol. I am very pleased with you. Good girl Carol.”

“Take off your gowns” he said. With no resistance left, she opened her robe and dropped it at her feet. She lifted her nightie and pulled it over her head. She heard his gasp as he saw the smooth female body, heaving panting breasts, curling soft dark hairs, the enticing gap in which lay his goal for absolute victory. He turned her around and with her back to him, he smoothed the tightness of her globes. She felt his hands on her cheeks, felt him pull her apart so as to see her wrinkled tight most private of entrances. He again pulled her legs wide and she felt a hand between, seeking her wetness, drawing the slippery fluid and rimming her tiny tightness with it.

“No please don’t not there please” she gasped. He ignored her plea and fingered more wetness over her place, and then the pad of his finger was pressing for entrance. She tensed, resisting, refusing him. “NO, NO please don’t put it in me there, please not there” she begged.

He stood and guided her towards the bed. As she reached it he pushed her making her fall forward. “Lie as you were when I came in” he said. She knew what her fate would be as she stretched out on her tummy, her tight rounded cheeks swelling before him. She heard the rustle of his clothing as he undressed, then the springs yielding to his weight as he lay beside her. His hands were again stroking, gentling her, making her shiver with the knowledge of his lust. His hand on her bottom cheeks, parting, feeling and then finding her wetness. The fingers again coating her then pressing for entry. She flinched and resisted, but the pressure increased and she felt the stabbing pain of his entry. He worked her gently, and the pain receded, only to return as he withdrew but then inserted a second finger, stretching her tightness. He continued parting her and moving within her, making her ready for him in his priestly role.

“Stay quite still and don’t move” he ordered. He got off the bed and searched her dressing table, finding the cold cream of her toilette. He came to her and she felt the cold creaminess of her moisturiser as he gently coated her. His fingers were again inside, her muscle now accepting his presence there, as it had previously surrendered so often to her husband’s demand for submission.

He lay on top and for the second time that day she felt the hard bluntness of him as he took it in his hand and rubbed it from one hole to the other, her juices blending with her cream. He held it to her and she tried to relax in acceptance to ease his entry. She groaned into her pillow as it stretched her, then she flinched as he pressed too far, too quickly. He eased back and worked her with the very tip of himself, her muscle relaxing and then he was in. There was the familiar fullness of a man entering her anal passage. He withdrew a little and pressed forward, again and again, winning more of her each time. Each time he pressed forward she gave a deep groan of total submission. His pubic bone pressed against the cushioning of her rounded cheeks and she realised he now possessed her completely. It was now comfortable for her, pleasing to her and she worked herself backwards as he pressed forward.

He was crooning soothing words, soothing noises and suddenly his movements became frantic, his thrusts uncontrolled. She prepared herself for the finality of her ordeal. He froze, pushed and she felt the leap of him inside her, the first spurt of his heat filling her. He thrust, thrust and thrust again, each time releasing more of himself inside the tightness of her passage. Then he collapsed onto her back pressing her into the bed, his cock still jerking and twitching and pulsing out the remnants of his orgasm. At last he stilled and she felt him soften and slip out. He had yet another handkerchief and as he lifted from her he looked at the place he had raped, made his, and he saw her gaping wide from the size of him and saw his white sperm oozing out to trickle down towards her other place. He held his handky to her and she reached back, wiped herself, and then held it in place. She pulled herself from under him and held the pad as she hurried to the bathroom. She sat and emptied herself of his passion as best she could and wiped herself. She found the panties she had worn earlier in the evening and pulled them on. She returned to the room and saw him lying there, on her bed, his cock now softly shining with his cum. He smiled at her.

“You know you are an utter bastard. I trusted you and you said you would go. You have raped me for the second time today and you are a PRIEST !”

“Ah, yes I am, but I was NEVER a Boy Scout” he grinned “and you are MUCH better than a choirboy.” His cock twitched and began to swell again at the sight of her naked defenceless body.

The music still played softly but suddenly the announcer’s voice broke in dramatically.
“The first reports are coming in of a massive explosion to a house and property to the south of the city. Witnesses speak of a gigantic explosion followed by fire. Emergency services are at the scene. It is believed that the property belongs to Sir Bernard Cranfield, the Chairman of the scientific animal-testing laboratory, which has been the subject of protests and demonstrations by anti-vivisectionists over the last 6 months. More information will be brought to you as it becomes available. Meanwhile it cannot be confirmed whether the property was occupied at the time of the explosion. Sir Bernard and Lady Cranfield recently celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary and are said to be a devoted couple”

The priest called her, compelling her to come to him, his cock readying to take her protesting yet willingly submissive body once again.

Carol smiled to herself. Why did men always MAKE her DO things she wondered? She must find out where this priest lived and worked. Men never learned.

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