Chapter 1   The trap is set

My name is Norah Bentley. I am a 42 year old divorced female. I am proud of what I have achieved. After a messy divorce 7 years ago I threw myself single-mindedly into my passion: property investment. I have now built up a property portfolio of 16 rental houses and have a net worth of over one million dollars. Yes, I flaunt my success.

Many people call me a hard-nosed bitch. I am ruthless with my tenants and have no time for hard luck stories. Pay the rent on time, or take a hike. As a female I am not prepared to show weakness or compassion, as there are always the no-hopers who are waiting to take advantage.

This is my persona. Successful, tough, emotionless.

Knowing this about me makes my story seem even more unbelievable. Even now, many months later, my mind still whirls with confusion.

Before I begin my story, I must make a confession, as much as it hurts my pride. My divorce 7 years ago cut a deep wound in my emotions that just would not heal. I confess I was not a good wife. I was demanding, jealous, and smothering. I should not have been surprised that the useless prick took refuge in the panties of his brainless, buxom secretary, then left me for her.

I cried non-stop for 10 days. When I stopped crying, I dried my eyes and resolved I would never be hurt again.

With a ruthless passion I focused on property investment and became damn good at it. I did not allow myself to have private life; as to do so would leave me vulnerable. Oh, I had a few one-night stands, but no one lasted more than a few weeks before I booted them out of my life. Gradually the men dried up. I guess my reputation preceded me.

Eventually the few close friends I had following my divorce also melted away. Initially I thumbed my nose at them, thinking they were jealous of my success, but I now realise I was probably not a nice person to be around.

Enough of my bleeding-heart confessions. It is just a delaying tactic. I will reluctantly tell you my story.

The 17^th started off like any other day. My life is very regimented, and I like to believe this is because I am focused and successful. My alarm goes off at 7.30am. I rise, feed the cat, shower, dress, have eggs, bacon and a muffin for breakfast, followed by a cup of strong coffee while I read the financial section of the newspaper. It is the only part of the newspaper I read. I am not interested in reading about human misery, petty politics, or the steroid-induced feats of overpaid sportsmen.

At 9.00am I log onto my computer and check my bank statement to reconcile the balance and ensure all rents have been paid. My eyes narrow to thin slits and my blood begins to boil when I notice the rent for 17 Wisteria Lane is overdue. I knew renting one of my properties to them was a mistake. The tenants were a young couple, Mark and Diane, both in their late teens. Normally I stay clear of the young ones, as they are so irresponsible these days. Drugs, booze and sex seem to be their sole focus.

However Mark and Diane were an attractive, well groomed young couple, well presented, and although they were both still students they did have part-time jobs and ensured me there would be no problems with the lease.

What a damn fool I was. I hated to be proven wrong. These young troublemakers will be gone within a week, I resolved.  I do not phone, as it gives my wormy tenants an opportunity to spin me a sad, sob story. For me it is the full frontal, knock-on-the-door assault.

It was late afternoon when I pulled up outside 17 Wisteria in my sporty little Mercedes. Mark and Diane’s battered Honda was parked outside so I knew they were home. With authority I strode up to the front door and knocked loudly. To my annoyance there was no response. A knocked again, longer and louder. Still no response. By now I was getting more than a little steamy under the collar. Stop avoiding me you useless little worms.

I knocked a third time, loud enough to wake the dead. But again it elicited no response. Frustrated, I tried the front door and found it was unlocked. I stepped inside and called out. There was no answer but I could hear a noise down the hallway. Not one to back away, I strode down the hallway. The bedroom door was partly ajar. I was about to hammer on the door when I caught a glimpse of Diane and I was frozen in my tracks. I stared, disbelieving.

Diane was tied spreadeagled on the bed, facedown, totally naked, her hands and feet tied to each corner. Rope was also tied tightly around her waist, and then looped through the crack of her buttocks and obviously secured in the front. Her labia were split by the rope and from my vantage point I could clearly see them protruding, red and swollen. Diane’s buttocks, thighs, and upper back were covered with red welts were she had obviously been whipped with something.

My heart began to beat furiously, and I feared I was witnessing some sort of assault and battery on Diane. Without breathing I took a step back, with the intention of retreating to safety and phoning the police. But then to my amazement Mark came into view. His young body was also totally naked. His semi erect penis swinging freely in front of athletic body.

My mind was racing with confusion. What was I witnessing here. Initially I had thought it was an assault by an intruder, but now it appeared if it was some sort of debauched, perverted sexual activity. I was sickened, and it confirmed my low option of today’s youth.

But despite my distaste at what I was witnessing, my eyes remained fixated on the scene I was viewing through the slightly ajar door. Mark was untying the ropes that secured Diane’s ankle and wrists to the bed corners. Once untied, Diane took a moment to rub the painful looking, ugly red welts on her buttocks. But instead of getting up off the bed, I watch disbelievingly as she slowly turned over on her back, then opened her legs and raised her arms above her head. Mark moved silently around the bed, again securing Diane’s hands and feet to the corners of the bed.

I could not help noticing her breasts. They were small but very firm, and still held their form despite the fact she was lying on her back. Her nipples were erect and pointing invitingly into the air.

Mark then untied the rope that was secured tightly around her waist, and pulled it out from between her legs. Diane’s pubic region was even more clearly exposed to me. She had neatly trimmed but sparsely covered blond pubic hair that did little to cover her vaginal region. Mark disappeared out of view for a moment then returned, a vicious looking short wispy whip held in his right hand.

I was aware that beads of sweat were beginning to roll down my forehead. I was only too aware I needed to do something. Either burst in and confront the pair of them, or get my butt out of there and deal with the rent problem later. But unbelievably I just stood there, taking in the debauched scene. I was revolted, but could not take my eyes away from the scene that was before me. It was somehow giving me sensory overload in a manner I could not even begin to comprehend.

I was transfixed as Mark rested the whip on Diane’s pubic mound

“Lift it, “ he commanded, without emotion

Incredibly Diane arched her buttocks off the bed, pushing her pubic mound high in the air. It was one of the most sexually crass acts I had ever seen in my 42 years. Yet I was glued to the spot, almost not daring to blink.

With Diane’s pubic mound raised high, and her legs spread, I could even see her engorged clitoris pushing out from its hood, brazenly displaying her sexual arousal. Here juices were oozing from her swollen lips. Despite my distaste at what I was witnessing, I also knew that her fully aroused vagina was one of the most truly deeply erotic things I had ever witnessed.

Although my former husband and I had been sexually active when first married, I had soon become bored, and eventually found the whole groping, sweaty act of making love something I tried to avoid. It was always done in bed with the light off and I tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. Any attempts at foreplay by my husband were discouraged. Although I hated to face up to it, deep down I knew that it was hardly surprising he started banging his bimbo secretary.

Mark continued to rest the whip on Diane’s pubic mound

“Higher” he again commanded

Diane strained to arch herself even higher off the bed. Her buttocks were now 12 inches clear of the bed, and despite myself I admired her agility and athleticism. The muscles in her shapely legs were clearly defined, and she was obviously carrying no extra weight. Incredibly I found myself trying to visualise being in Diane’s place. I knew I would look nowhere as svelte as she did. Although I was not grossly overweight, I had not taken good care of my body in recent years. I had packed on many extra pounds on my hips and thighs through poor diet and a lack of exercise. My constant excuse was I was too busy being successful to worry about exercising or eating properly.

I almost shook my head in bemusement. Here I was witnessing the most sexually explicit act I had ever seen, and I was worrying how overweight I would look if ever I were subjected to the same abuse.

‘Forget it girl’, I told myself. Do you seriously think you would allow yourself to be abused like that by another person? Not bloody likely. But even as I silently chastised myself and wanted to leave my young tenants to their sexually sadistic games, I could not divert my eyes from what I was witnessing.

Despite myself, I found my eyes wandering up Diane’s well defined legs, taking in her straining calf muscles, then again taking in the sight of her most private of regions. Diane’s pubic lips had now been forced open from the combination of having her legs forced open, her hips elevated, and her high level of sexual arousal. I could now see the delicate pinkness of the inside of her vagina. I was breathing heavily, I felt flushed, and sweat continued to run down my forehead. I badly needed to wipe my brow to stop the sweat from running into my eyes but was afraid the movement would draw attention to myself. If I could see Mark, it stood to reason that he could also see me if he glanced toward the doorway.

It seemed like an eternity that Diane had been forced to keep her hips raised high off the bed, although in reality I had no concept of time. Then in a sudden movement Mark raised the whip and brought it down on her pubic mould. It happened so quickly that I jumped with fright when Diane let out a howl of anguish as the whip connect. An ugly red welt quickly appeared, clearly visible even through her blond wispy pubic hair. She had lowered her buttocks back onto the bed and was grimacing with pain.

‘How can the stupid little tart allow herself to be subjected to such a sadistic act’? I was totally confused. What I was witnessing was barbaric and surely nobody would willingly subject themselves to such pain. Yet I had only too clearly seen with my own eyes how sexually aroused Diane was.

“Up!” Mark demanded, again resting the whip provocatively on her pubic mound.

Diane hesitated for a few moments, then to my utter amazement she strained her leg muscles to get her hips again elevated high off the bed. The whip struck a second time, crisscrossing the existing welt, and again Diane cried out in a sob of pain.

The sweat had now run down my forehead into my eyes and my vision was becoming blurred despite the fact I was constantly blinking my eyes. I decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat, although I knew deep down some primal urge wanted me to stay. I slowly retraced my steps down the hallway, exited the open front door and very quietly closed it behind me. I almost ran down the pathway, quickly opening my car door and jumping inside. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. A glance in the mirror confirmed my face was flushed like I had never seen before, and I struggled to slow my pounding heart. I felt as if I had just run a marathon.

A wave of revulsion suddenly swept over me. I felt sick at my own conduct. How could I have just stood there ogling that perverted act? I shook my head in bewilderment. I resolved to block the whole incident out and never think of it again. I am good at blocking out emotions that clog my mind and do not

contribute to my persona of success.

However, much to my annoyance, I failed miserably that evening to block the events I had witnessed from my mind. Like some pornographic video it just kept replaying in front of my visual senses. In the end, out of total frustration, I decided to take a sleeping pill and retire early, knowing I would feel much better after a good night’s sleep.

Once in bed I kept my mind focused on the financial journal I was reading. Thankfully I felt my eyes became droopy and was overcome by sleep. But less than an hour later I was awake, my head thick and fuzzy from the strong sleeping pill I had taken. Still the sickening scene of the hapless Diane played before my senses. My body was burning as if I was running a fever. There was inner warmth in the pit of my stomach that felt unusually pleasant.

I tried to think clearly through the haze of my drowsiness, to make sense of the pleasant sensations flowing through my body. Almost without knowing it I allowed one of my hands to stray down to my vagina. I was wet beyond belief. As my fingers grazed my clitoris it felt like an electric current running through my body. As if following a secret command from deep within, I splayed my legs wide open, then strained to lift my pelvis high in the air, mimicking the lurid act I had witnessed of my young tenant. As I imagined a silent whip being raised above me I slid my fingers deep inside my vagina and finger-fucked myself with relentless vigour. In no time my hips were bucking with the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. As I lay there afterwards, my body glowing with a pleasant warm sweat, I drifted off to a deep and restful sleep.

When I awoke in the morning I was unsure if the whole experience had been real or a dream. But deep down I knew and I felt revolted with myself. I had not masturbated since I was an awkward teenager fantasising over some impossible love.

After two cups of very strong coffee I felt my mind settling down to its normal, well-ordered self. I checked my on-line internet bank statement and noticed that Mark and Diane’s rent had gone through, albeit two days late. A little voice in my head told me to let it go, not to worry about the late payment. But that was not my style. I don’t forgive and forget. If I let them get away with it now, they will think they can take advantage of me whenever they like. I looked at my watch. It was a little after 8.30am and I decided to phone straight away and clear up the fact that they had better not mess around with me or they would be out on the street before they knew it. I rationalised that in this case I would deal with the matter on the telephone, and forgo my usual method of fronting up in person, which was hardly surprising given what I had witnessed the previous day.

The phone rang for what seemed an eternity before a sleepy voice greeted me at the other end. It was Mark. I informed him, formally, that it was Mrs Bentley, his landlady, speaking. Mark seemed unimpressed, and said nothing

“Your rent was 2 days late” I spoke angrily

“I have paid it lady” was Mark’s belligerent response

I exploded. “Listen here, you little fucker. The rent is to be paid on the due date, not when you feel like paying it.”

“And if I don’t?” Far from being fazed by my verbal assault, Mark almost seemed to be enjoying himself

“What?” I shouted, disbelieving that he could even think of asking me such a question

Without giving me the opportunity to answer his question he pressed on.

“Are landlords able to enter a tenants house without getting permission first?” Mark’s question was voiced with confidence and authority.

My blood ran cold. Surely he did not know I had entered their house yesterday and witnessed their sordid sexual activities. Unusually for me, I was flustered, and unsure of how to respond.

“Well?”

I hung up. I was shaking with anger that he had treated me with such contempt. The cheeky little upstart. But beneath my anger I was deeply concerned by his question. Why had he asked it? Surely he couldn’t have known. There was no way they would have continued in such a brazen manner if they had known someone was watching.

Although it worried me, I eventually rationalised that it was just a silly coincidence. Nevertheless I shied away from another confrontation with the pair of them, deciding that in this case I might just make an exception and let the matter lie. 

Chapter 2    I am lured by the bait

Gradually my life settled down again over the next few days and I successfully blocked out the sordid sex scene I had voyeured, as well as my disquieting phone conversation with Mark. I focused on the one thing that gave me what I thought was total fulfilment. Making money.

However I found myself almost dreading the morning, two weeks later, when I would again need to check if Mark and Diane had paid their rent on time. Quietly I scanned my bank statement three times, hoping that I had just missed the transaction. But the payment had definitely not gone through. Of course I was angry, but I was also concerned. Mark’s enquiring words again registered in my mind. What if….? What if they had know?

I resolved to wait one more day, but the following day saw no payment being made. Surely they would pay it today, I rationalised. They had after all been only 2 days late last time. However on the 3^rd day there was still no payment. I threw caution to the wind, as anger overcame my reticence to provoke another incident.

By the time I dialled the phone number at 17 Wisteria Lane I was fuming, and if I could have reached down the phone I swear I would have strangled the person who answered on the other end. As it turned out, it was Diane who answered. She sounded so sweet and innocent, with her child-like voice making her sound much younger.

Despite myself, I softened my tone slightly. At least I would not have to deal with the belligerent Mark.

However I was still direct and to the point, “The rent, young lady, is 3 days overdue. This is the second time this month, and is totally unacceptable.” I found myself stopping short of making threats

“Gee, I am so sorry Mrs Bentley. We have been so busy studying for exams we have not been able to get to the bank to deposit it into your account. We have the money here. If you come around this evening you can collect it from us.”

“Young lady. I do not run around collecting rent from my tenants”, I stated doggedly. “It is your responsibility to have it in my account on time. I did request you set up an automatic bank deduction.”

“Oh, please,” she pleaded, “Just this one time. We promise it will not happen again.”

Almost incredibly, I found myself considering her request. How could I even consider lowering my standards to this level? Yet, I did have to go out tonight to collect some papers from a colleague, and I would be in the vicinity of 17 Wisteria on my way home.

Not for the first time I found my mind befuddled when dealing with Mark and Diane.

I hesitated, and then took a deep breath. “Very well then. I will collect it but you had better understand this is definitely the one and only time. I will be there around 8.30pm. Please have the full rent ready for me to collect.”

“We certainly will Mrs Bentley, and, hey, thanks. Mark and I really appreciate it.”

I felt like I had been dealing with a child, and for some unfathomable reason found myself smiling.

For the remainder of the day I found myself dwelling on my arranged meeting with Mark and Diane. No matter how pragmatic and unemotional I tried to be, visions of a naked Diane tied spreadeagled to the bed kept flashing before my eyes. Along with Mark wielding that nasty little whip onto Diane’s pubes.

By the time I pulled up outside 17 Wisteria Lane at 8.30pm precisely, I could not believe how nervous and uncomfortable I felt. I tried to reason with myself, but my emotions were in turmoil. It was as if someone had thrown them into a blender and turned it on. I resolved to march up to the door, get the rent in my hand, and get out of the place as quick as I could, and with the minimum of conversation.

As I knocked on the door I almost prayed that it would be Diane who answered, but to my dismay it was Mark. For a moment we just stared at each other, before Mark stepped aside and with an exaggerated sweep of his arm invited me inside.

“I am in a hurry,” I muttered with contempt. “Please get me the rent and I will be gone.”

Mark walked over to a tin and pulled out a sum of money and began laboriously counting it. My nervousness returned and I began fidgeting, and I tried to mask it by making polite conversation.

“Diane’s out, is she?” I enquired, trying to sound casual

“No, she is home. Just a little tied up.”

“Oh” I responded

It was not until Mark looked at me over his shoulder with a smirk on his face that the double meaning of his response hit me. I immediately felt my neck flush but tried to show no outward sign of any emotion.

I looked away to avoid eye contact with Mark, and then glanced impatiently at my watch. “Hurry please. I am already late.”

Mark counted the money again, for what seemed to be the 3^rd time. Finally he turned to me and extended his hand containing the money. I walked over to him and took hold of the money, but he would not release it.

Our eyes locked, and I snarled, “Give me my money, you asshole.”

“Diane is being punished tonight for not finishing her exam report on time.”

His comment hit me like a sledgehammer and it took me a moment to get my wits back into some semblance of order

“What on earth do you mean?” I asked indignantly

“You know what I mean, Norah. Oh you don’t mind if I call you Norah, do you? You know what I mean because you have already witnessed her being punished once before. Haven’t you Norah?” Mark raised one eyebrow in an inquiring manner.

Confirmation that he knew I had watched them made me feel physically sick, and for a moment I felt faint. I struggled to control myself. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Almost before I realised it Mark had released his hold on the money, but then took hold of my arm. He began to lead me down the hallway and I found myself following like a mindless robot.

“No.” I protested. “Stop.” However even as I protested I allowed myself to be led further down the hallway until we were standing outside the closed bedroom door.

“No, I must leave. I want to leave. Please!” I pleaded to Mark.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You are wrong. I want to leave. Now!” I pulled my elbow away from his grip, took a step back from, but went no further.

“Lets do a deal, Norah.”

“A deal?” My voice sounded like a pathetic squeak as I struggled to form my word coherently.

“Come into the bedroom and see Diane tied up and naked. I love for others to see her. It makes her so humiliated. Then if you want to leave before I punish her then you can.”

I shook my head from side to side defiantly

“No”, I mumbled, but still I made no effort to retreat. “I must be leaving…..”

Mid-sentence Mark swung the bedroom door open, and suddenly the words would no longer form, and came out as a groan. Before me was the beautiful, athletic, totally nude body of young Diane. She was blindfolded. She was kneeling on the bed with her buttocks high in the air, her back was arched, and her head rested on a pillow. Ropes tightly secured her legs around her thighs and ankles. Her arms were pulled viciously behind her and secured at her elbows and wrists.

For a long while Mark just let me soak up the scene from the safety of the hallway. No one spoke. I was transfixed by the scene confronting me.  Eventually Mark came to me, gently took my arm again and led me into the bedroom. I offered no resistance.

He stood me beside the bed, then moved over to the stricken Diane, took hold of her shoulders and lifted her so she was kneeling upright on the bed. Her arms were secured so tightly it looked as if they would be dislocated at the shoulder. This had the affect of lifting her chest cavity and thrusting her breasts forward luridly. I could not believe how erect her small nipples were. I was sure I had never seen my own anywhere near as erect. Again I admired her beautifully athletic body with its absolutely flat tummy and well defined muscle structure. I actually wanted to compliment her on her beautiful body, but somehow it seemed so inappropriate. Also I doubted that my mouth was capable of forming words coherently.

For several minutes I scanned her body, and she remained as still as a statue. The only noise in the room was the sound of heavy breathing coming from Diane and myself.

Again Mark gently took my arm and led me to the end of the bed.

“Bend over again” he instructed his secured goddess.

Diane bent at the waist and awkwardly placed her head on the pillow again. Without being asked she arched her back and thrust her buttocks high in the air. I was now looking straight down the cleft of her firm, round buttocks. Her puckered pink anus was clearly in view. Her vaginal lips squeezed into view between her tightly secured legs. Although I dare not admit it, even to myself, it was one of the most erotic sights I had ever seen. And this realisation frightened me.

I stared like a mindless idiot. The sight was like a drug that I could not get enough of. I was only too aware that I was again flushed and my brow was sweating. I was so focused on the sight that I was only vaguely aware of Mark addressing me.

“Pardon?” I enquired, forcing myself to look away from Diane.

“Punishment time.” Mark repeated himself

“Punishment time?” I repeated like the village idiot

“Yes, Norah. I am now going to punish Diane.” He then moved to a set of drawers, opened the top one and after rummaging around he pulled out a wicked looking whip. This was different than the one I had seen him using to punish Diane’s pubic mound. This whip was about the same circumference but much longer. Mark swung his arm above his head threateningly, making the whip whistle as it sliced through the air.

My eyes widened at the sight of the whip. I felt disgusted that Mark would even think of using such a terrible device on Diane. What right did he think he had to punish her in such a manner? I felt like screaming at him that no woman deserved to be treated in this way. But I didn’t. I just stood. My eyes moving from the whip, to Diane’s buttocks, then back to the whip.

“Are you leaving?” Again that quizzical look from Mark

I had to leave. I wanted to leave. But my legs felt as if they were riveted to the floor.

“Are you leaving, or staying to watch Diane be punished?”

I forced myself to focus on Mark. I stared deeply into his eyes. It was hard to comprehend they were the eyes of a nineteen year old. At 42 years of age I was old enough to be his mother. This thought caused another dose of self-loathing to course through my veins. What the hell was I doing standing in this room.

I lifted my nose into the air and muttered with contempt, “I am going. You are sick. You are both sick. I strongly suggest you get psychological help.”

But even as I spat out my condemnation I could not resist one last glance at Diane’s firm buttocks perched high in the air, then a quick glance at the whip, then back to the naked buttocks.

“Well?” Mark asked pointedly

I turned to stare at him once more. He now held the whip in front of himself with both hands, repeatedly flexing it into an arc. Tension radiated through the room.

“I think you should leave.” Mark pointed the whip in the direction of the door.

I tried to settle my breathing. I tried to think clearly. Bile began to rise in my throat as the realisation came to me that I actually did want to see Diane punished, as much as it disgusted me and was against all my principles. I felt my shoulders slump forward in defeat.

Quietly I muttered, “No”

“No what, Norah?”

“I want to stay.” It crushed me to admit such a fact to this teenage boy.

“Why do you want to stay, Norah?”

I could no longer look Mark in the eyes, and I glanced haplessly at the floor

“I want to see Diane punished.” I could not believe those words had come from my own mouth

“Good girl.” Mark smiled triumphantly

He strode to the end of the bed. I could see Diane’s body beginning to twitch in nervous anticipation. Her buttocks were clenched tight, almost causing her anus to disappear into the void.

“Why are you being punished tonight Diane?” Mark enquired

“Because I failed to finish my assignment on time, sir.” Diane’s voice was muffled by the pillow her face was buried in.

“Correct. Tonight you will receive six lashes. I want you to count each one. Now relax you buttocks.”

Diane mumbled an affirmative response as she relaxed her buttocks. Without ceremony the whip whistled through the air and connected with her left buttock. Diane groaned in agony, pumping her back up and down in an obvious attempt to dissipate the pain. A deep red welt was already clearly visible.

In a surprisingly strong voice she mumbled, “One sir, thank you sir.”

Out of corner of my eye I saw Mark raise the whip again and I tensed, waiting for the contact. However he just held it above his head for what seemed like an eternity. Diane’s body was arched in anticipation. I admired her courage. I knew I could never front up to such a beating.

Finally the whip whistled through the air for a second time, connecting viciously with her right buttock. Again Diane groaned loudly. But before she had time to recover and count the stroke Mark raised the whip again quickly and lashed her in quick succession with two further strikes.

Diane groaned and sobbed loudly and her body bucked about on the bed as it tried to instinctively avoid the blows. She rolled onto her side, then frantically tried to pull herself up to the kneeling position again. But with her arms secured so tightly behind her back this simple act was made very difficult. Eventually she repositioned herself, and without hesitation she arched her back down and drove her buttocks into the air. She was still sobbing quietly.

“Two sir, three sir, and four sir. Thank you sir.”

Mark smiled in what seemed to be genuine admiration. “Good girl.”

He raised his arm, and the fifth and sixth blows fell in quick succession. Bravely Diane counted them out between sobs.

My mouth was wide open, and for the first time I realised dribble was running out of the corner of my life. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, then wiped the sweat from my forehead. My heart was pumping so fiercely I felt light-headed, and was sure I was going to faint. With a drunken swagger I made my way down the hallway, opened the front door, and took in gulps of the cool fresh air. Gradually my head cleared and I made my way to my car. I realised I was clutching tightly to the rent money, and threw it carelessly onto the passenger seat. Some of the money floated onto the floor, but I left it there. Although I did not fully understand it, I somehow sensed that my superficial, money-orientated values were going to be challenged by something that was both frightening but exciting.

Chapter 3    The trap is sprung

As soon as I got home I raced to the toilet and vomited violently. I then curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor and began to cry. I didn’t know why I was crying, but I sobbed like I had not done since a young child. My mind was swirling with emotions I did not want to confront. My successful, comfortable life was being turned upside down, and I hated myself for being weak and allowing it to happen. I had to get control of my life again.

For the next two days I continued to cry every time I thought of the incident with Mark and Diane. The emotion I felt over the incident was disgust. I would not allow myself to even contemplate any other sort of emotion.

Finally, after several days, I began to get order back into my life. I successfully blocked Mark and Diane right out of my mind. It was as they did not exist. I am good at this. Focus on what I need to, and totally ignore everything else that is a diversion from me reaching my goals. I threw myself with even more vigour into my property business, seeking out and purchasing a further two properties to add to my portfolio. With housing prices as strong as they are I could almost see my net worth increasing by the day. Nothing makes me happier than making money.

However when mid-month came and the rent on 17 Wisteria Lane was due, I admit I felt very apprehensive. I was unsure of how I would approach it if the payment were again overdue. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I checked my bank account and found the money had gone through on time. I felt very content now that I had definitely got my life back.

You can imagine my utter dismay when, two weeks later, month end rolled around, and the rent from 17 Wisteria was not in my account. I could feel a knot in my stomach, and I angrily screwed up the bank statement and threw it across the room. I resolved to do nothing. I would not be provoked, and if I had to wait a few days for my rent, so be it. I was sure once they saw I was not going to react they would just pay the rent and leave me alone to live my life how I wished.

Three days went by. Four days. Five days. Still no rent. By the seventh day I was steaming. By the eighth day I was furious. How dare those perverted little motherfuckers treat me like this? I could avoid a confrontation no longer, and hatched a plan. I would not give them any advance warning I was arriving, and would turn up at dinner time when I was damn sure Diane would not be ‘a little tied up.’

That evening I arrived at 17 Wisteria Lane a little after 6pm. Rain was falling noisily on the roof of my Mercedes. Their battered Honda was parked in the driveway. I had been full of confidence on the drive over there, but now I could feel myself becoming nervous. I silently cursed that I had not thought to bring an umbrella or a rain jacket. Sucking in a deep breath to settle my nerves I open my car door and got out. By the time I had ensured my car was locked I was already becoming drenched as the rain pelted down. I sprinted across the road, and was half way up the path to the front door when I tripped on a loose paving stone. It sent me sprawling forward as I fell awkwardly on the pathway and slid into the garden. For a moment I just lay there, stunned, feeling the rain pelting on my back. Gradually I pulled myself to my feet. I did not appear to have suffered any injury other than a painful graze on my knee. I looked down at my dress, and saw I was a mess. I was drenched with water and covered with dirt. I tried to decide what my best option was. I did not want Mark and Diane to see me looking such a mess, but there was no way I could get into my sporty little Mercedes covered in dirt and dripping water everywhere.

I resolved that I had come this far, and at the very least I had to get my rent. Gingerly I took the few remaining steps to the front door and knocked. For several seconds there was no response and I huddled under the tiny porch trying to get some protection from the rain. I was shivering from the cold. Finally the door swung open and both Diane and Mark were standing there. They gazed at me in amazement. Mark began giggling, and Diane soon followed.

“Are you all right?” Diane finally thought to enquire of my wellbeing.

“No, I bloody am not.” I replied indignantly. “I want my rent…..now!”

“You need to come inside and dry out.” Diane continued to show concern

“Just get me my fucking rent now!” I yelled, not thinking rationally as to what I was going to do once I had my rent.

Mark continued to stare at me with his quizzical frown while Diane disappeared into the warmth of the house, returning shortly after with a bundle of notes secured by a rubber band. She reached out her hand and I snatched the money. The three of us then just stared at each other. I realised that my pigheadedness had backed me into a corner. The rain was pelting down even harder than when I had arrived, and a sudden clap of thunder made me jump. I had been scared of thunderstorms ever since I was a young child.

“Please come inside and dry out.” It was Mark this time who made the request.

“No!” I responded surlily, like a petulant child.

“Very well.” Mark responded sharply, and stepped back to close the front door.

I panicked. I did not want to be outside in the thunderstorm.

“Wait!” I shouted.

Mark stopped closing door, and I swear he almost smiled. He said nothing. Diane was looking over his shoulder. I stared out into the rain and tried to weigh up my options. Another clap of thunder echoed directly overhead.

“Can I please come in for just a moment to dry out a little?” I rationalised that if I went inside I could at least dry off a little and with a bit of luck the storm will pass over quickly.

Mark stepped aside and beckoned for me to enter with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. I stepped past them both and entered the lounge, water dripping from me onto the carpet. Diane retrieved a towel and I did my best to soak up some of the water from my clothing. I wanted to ask if I could use the bathroom to dry myself and clean up, but the bathroom was down the hallway beside the bedroom, and I was determined to stay in the lounge.

I felt like an idiot standing in the lounge, trying to towel myself down while my two young tenants just stared at me silently. The carpet around my feet was stained by a pool of dirty water. I glanced down at my top and realised, to my horror, that the rain had made the material transparent and even though I was wearing a bra my nipples were clearly visible. I quickly clutched the towel to my front, causing both of my young tenants to quietly chuckle.

I hated being placed in a position where I felt vulnerable. I needed to be in control of circumstances, but at that moment I felt anything but in control.

Mark lent over to Diane and whispered into her ear. For a moment Diane looked back at him with what seemed to be mild shock, then slowly turned to stare at me, a distinct grin on her face. She then disappeared down the hallway. My blood ran cold and I began to shiver. I was suddenly aware of how uncomfortable my breasts felt in the soaked bra, and pulled the towel away slightly from my chest so that I could view them. I was so embarrassed to notice that my nipples were rock hard. Harder than I had ever seen them in my life. I quickly pulled the towel back to my chest. It must be the cold, I rationalised.

There was an awkward silence as Mark and I stared at each other across the room. Then Diane re-appeared from the hallway, and I swear I just about died. She was totally naked. As she walked towards me I tried to mouth words of protest but my tongue was thick and heavy, and I only ended up making a jumbled noise like a two-year old child.

Brazenly she stopped in front of me, hands at her side, making no attempt in any way to hide her total nudity. Despite myself I could not help but take in her beautiful nubile young body, with the perky erect breasts, flat tummy, well defined legs, and to top it off her thinly populated thatch of blond pubic hair that did a poor job of hiding her labia from view.

She just stood in front of me, unmoving, her head tilted to one side. Her body seemed to be sending out the message that I could stare at it as long as I wanted. I wanted to avert my eyes, look in another direction, but I was fixated on the nude body in front of me. I couldn’t even begin to rationalise why. I had never felt any lesbian tendencies in my life, and had taken no pleasure at staring at the nude bodies of fellow females. But Diane was different. How, I don’t know. She was just different.  Her appearance was just so erotic, I cannot think of any other way to describe it.  As I stared at her nakedness all rational thoughts and actions seemed to drain from my body.

Diane stepped closer to me, so close that I could reach out and touch her if I had the courage. But it was Diane who reached out to me, her hands beginning to undo the buttons on my top.

“No…stop...what on earth are you doing?” My mind suddenly kicked into gear and I was mortified by Diane’s actions.

“You need to get that wet top off. Don’t be silly. You will freeze to death.” Diane’s voice was so calm and reassuring, convincing me I was over-reacting.

“No, I will be fine,” I continued to protest, but even as I did her hands continued to undo the buttons, and almost before I realised she was pulling the soaked top off my shoulders and down my arms until it was free of my body. She then turned and threw it in the direction of the kitchen sink.

Instinctively I lifted my arms up and crossed them in front of my bra so that my nipples were not exposed. But even as I did this Diane had turned her attention back to me and unfastened the two buttons on my skirt, then lowered the zip. I was observing these events as if they were not happening to me. It felt like I was outside of my body looking down on events, like a movie.  It was surreal, like nothing I had experienced before.

My skirt fell off my hips and bundled around my feet. Diane knelt down to pick it up

“Move your feet, silly”, Diane looked up at me with a condescending smile.

For a long moment I just stood there. I had this feeling of being a young girl being undressed by her mother, which was so preposterous given I was in fact the one old enough to be the mother of Diane, not vice versa.

“Come on, its not hard, just lift one foot at a time.” Diane was tapping my leg. I felt stupid.

I lifted my feet and allowed Diane to remove my skirt, which was also thrown in the general direction of the kitchen sink. I was now clothed in only my bra and panties. Even though I still had my underwear on, I don’t think I had ever felt so exposed in my life. I slid one hand down to modestly cover my pubic region, while the other arm covered my breasts. I was flushed, but also shivering.

Diane moved behind me and I felt her undoing the clasp of my bra.

“No! No!” I protested, this time with much more conviction. “I am fine. I will be dry in no time.”

I was aware I was shivering, even though I did not feel cold. I looked around for the towel I had discarded. Diane moved back in front of me again, standing so close I could feel her warm breath on my cheek.

“Don’t be silly, Norah. You need to show some trust” Diane was so reassuring.

She reached out with both hands and grasped the top of my bra cups. I could feel the gentle warmth of her fingers touching my chest. I felt her pulling the cups away from my breasts. I wanted to resist, but my actions indicated otherwise as I moved my arm out of the way. I was aware of my bra coming free of my body but was too afraid to look down, instead focusing my eyes on an invisible object above Diane’s head.

As if in a dream Diane’s hands slid under the waistband. I sucked in my tummy. My heart pumped furiously in my chest, and I felt light-headed. I prayed I would not faint, or worse still, vomit. My senses screamed at me to stop her, but my body would not react. My arms hung uselessly at my side.

I felt my panties slide over my hips and down to my thighs. I knew that my pubic region was now exposed. I expected to feel mortified. I wanted to be indignant, disgusted. But I felt none of those things. I just felt a release I cannot explain.

My panties were at my feet and following a light prod on my ankle from Diane I raised my legs to allow them to be removed. My body was radiating a sexual aura I had never felt in my life.

When I lowered my eyes, Diane was standing in front of me again. I soaked up the sight of her gorgeous nymphet body. It seemed to beg to be touched, and I reached out my arms, placing my open hands on her beautiful firm breasts. I could feel her erect nipples pressing against my palms. I gently squeezed both of them, fascinated like a child.

“What the hell are you to doing?” Mark’s voice boomed across the room.

I jumped with shock and my arms dropped to my sides. I suddenly felt very embarrassed. What on earth had I just done? I was mortified by my actions. It was as if some mysterious force was controlling my body

“Did I give you permission to let Norah touch your breasts?” Mark was angrily pointing a finger at Diane.

“No sir.” Diane replied meekly

He turned to me. “What right did you have to touch the breasts of my girlfriend, and right in front of my own eyes? You could have at least curbed your dyke behaviour until I was not here.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but there were no words to explain my behaviour. Instead I just shook my head from side to side in total disbelief at what I had done.

“Down on your knees!” Mark barked angrily

Diane dropped to her knees, eyes downcast. Mark altered his gaze to stare directly at me, his eyes piercing through to my core

“If you make me repeat myself your punishment will be worse.”

I frowned back at him, not comprehending what he was referring to. Suddenly it hit me. He was actually expecting me to go down on my knees. A 42 year old woman, and his landlady to boot, and he was expecting me to go down on my knees because some 19 year old whippersnapper requested it. Even if I had touched his girlfriend’s breasts, there was no way he was going to order me around

“Look here you little motherfucker, I…….” I protested indignantly, but Mark cut me off rudely mid sentence.

“You have until I count to three. If you are not down on your knees by then I will double your punishment. One!”

I gave him my most resolute, steely look, that always showed people what a hard-nosed bitch I was.

Mark was totally unimpressed. “Two!”

I maintained my steely exterior, but my emotions inside were a turmoil. I was still feeling light-headed and finding it difficult to think rationally.

Mark pursed his lips with the clear intention of mouthing ‘Three’. At that point I just allowed my legs to buckle and I fell easily into a kneeling position.  Like Diane I kept my eyes downcast, mainly because it just felt like the right thing to do.

Mark kept us both in that position for many minutes. I glanced down at my lap and could see my untrimmed thick thatch of pubic hair. I tried to absorb the fact that I was totally naked, kneeling in front of an 19 year old youth. I furtively glanced across at Diane, as if to confirm in my mind that his 18 year old girlfriend was also naked beside me. And a few brief moments ago I had reached out and touched her breasts. I should have felt revolted. But incredibly I did not. I was certainly frightened and apprehensive at what lay ahead for me. But underlying this was a deep, warm feeling that almost felt like excitement, although I knew that could not possibly be the case.

Chapter Five     Fed to the Cubs

After many minutes of crying my heart out on Diane’s shoulder, she led me around to the other side of the bed, opened up her wardrobe and after searching through several shelves she pulled out a track suit.

“Here, put this on love.”

I was several sizes bigger than Diane, but the tracksuit was loose fitting and I gratefully took it from her and dressed myself. I had no underwear but that was of little consequence. I was just grateful to be able to hide my nakedness. Diane also threw on a tee shirt and shorts that did little to hide her desirable body.

Diane then took my hand, and led me like a helpless child down the hallway to the front door. Thankfully Mark was nowhere in sight. Diane opened the front door, placed the rent money in my hand, kissed me lightly on cheek, and as I stepped outside she mumbled in my ear, “You are so sweet.” She actually caused me to blush.

Fortunately the rain and thunder had now passed. I drove home in a stunned trance, and once inside my apartment I flopped onto the bed, exhausted, and surprisingly slept like a baby.

Needless to say, I could not face up to what I had allowed to happen to me. It troubled me greatly and I just could not deal with it emotionally. I soon convinced myself that it was an act of temporary insanity, brought about by the stress of the unpaid rent and the frightening storm. I desperately wanted to forget the whole incident, but what troubled me most was the ‘deal’ I had done with Mark to stop the whipping. I decided to hatch up a smart plan to get me off the hook. I wrote a very polite letter to them both, apologising for my behaviour on that night, asking them to forgive me and also to forget about everything that had happened. I also wrote that I realised I had, under stress, made a deal with Mark, and since I was a woman who kept her word I was prepared to offer them one months free rent in exchange for the deal.

Even though it irritated me greatly to forfeit one months rent, I desperately wanting to get the ‘deal’ settled otherwise I would always be in fear of picking up the phone and hearing Mark’s voice on the other end. I was very confident they would jump at my generous offer, given they were poor students.

I was flabbergasted when I opened my mail a few days later to find they had returned my letter to me, and in big print had written ‘No deal.’ I was furious and picked up the phone to have it out with them, but then thought better of it and hung up before I had finished dialling.

I was totally on edge. Every time the phone went over the ensuing days I picked it up with trepidation. I struggled to stay focused on my business and felt my life was falling apart.

Finally the time came when the rent was due. I checked my bank account, but the payment had not been made. I was not surprised. I had to wait 2 days until I received the phone call that I knew was inevitable. It was Mark, requesting that I pick the rent up from them in person at 8.00pm that night

“I would much rather not,” I responded, but to me my voice lacked conviction.

“ But you will”, Mark replied confidently, “You are, after all, a woman of your word. Isn’t that how you put it?”

“Yes but I made a fair offer to…..” I tried to plead my case but Mark had hung up.

I tried to stay focused by cooking dinner, but then found I had no appetite to eat it. I then ran a hot bath and bathed in the luxuriant warmth. It made me relax and cleared my head. I resolved I would go to 17 Wisteria Lane and collect the rent. However I was a grown woman and would not allow myself to be manipulated by a teenager. If I were strong, nothing would happen to me.

I drove to 17 Wisteria feeling strong and confident. It was a beautiful starry night. A good omen I though. I parked my Mercedes and strode confidently up to the front door, but as I stood there about to knock I could feel the butterflies in my stomach and the familiar quicken of the heartbeat. I was furious with myself as I sucked in big breaths of fresh air to try and steady myself. I was then totally off guard when the front door opened, as I had not even knocked.

It was Mark, wearing only a bathrobe, and with his mobile phone to his ear. He beckoned for me to come in but continued his conversation on the mobile. I entered and stood awkwardly, aware that even though he had not even said a word to me he was already exerting his control.

Finally he interrupted his conversation and addressed me. “Undress.”

He made the comment so casually, like he was asking me if I wanted coffee.

For a moment I stared at him open mouthed, then responded, “Pardon Me?”

“You heard me. Undress. Take off all your clothing. Everything. Including your jewellery.”

I was deeply embarrassed. Not only was he showing me absolutely no respect, but also whoever was on the phone could clearly overhear how he was talking to me. I stood defiant. I looked up the hallway hoping that Diane would appear to at least give me support. And the thought of seeing her delectable naked body would be very pleasant, I hated to admit to myself. However Diane was nowhere to be seen.

“I will not ask again.” Marks young eyes pierced through me, then he casually returned to his phone conversation.

I tried so hard to remain stoic. To remain loyal to my old persona. But my hands betrayed me. They began undoing the buttons to my own clothing. I was having this outer body experience again. I was this other person looking down on this 42 year old woman betraying all her ideals, all her morals.

Soon I was clad in only my underwear. I wanted desperately to stop there, to retain some of my dignity at least. But instead I took in a deep breath, removed my bra, and then stepped out of my panties. I could not believe I had actually done it. Then I recalled his request to remove my jewellery therefore took out my earrings and removed my two rings. This simple act served to even increase my feelings of nakedness.

Throughout my undressing Mark starred at me dispassionately, continuing his conversation unabated. Once I was naked I fidgeted nervously. I was embarrassed beyond belief, but knew that underlying all this embarrassment there was an undeniable sexual energy pulsing through my body. This frightened me, as I did not understand it. There is no way I should be feeling this way.

Finally Mark finished his conversation and put down the phone. His eyes studied me from head to toe.

“Turn around”

Slowly I turned full circle. I could not believe I was allowing this 19 year old to study my body in detail.

“You are overweight”

I am not sure what I expected Mark to say to me, but it was certainly not as ego crushing as being told I am overweight.

“I am a lot older than you and Diane,” I responded defensively.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty nine,” I lied. A woman lying about her age comes naturally.

“Your age is no excuse for being overweight”

I felt like telling him he would hardly know what it was like to endure a broken marriage and work long hours running a successful business, however I just bit my lower lip and remained silent

“Do you exercise?” he enquired

“No.”

“Not at all?” he responded, almost disbelievingly

“No. I am a busy woman.” I felt very affronted by his questioning

“That is no excuse. Do you watch your diet?”

“ No. I guess not” I hated his line of questioning, mainly because it was a sore point with me. I did not exercise, I did not eat well, and I was most definitely overweight for my height and age.

“How much do you weigh?” he continued to probe.

“I don’t know.” I responded surly, and it was the truth. I had been too afraid to hop on the scales for a long while.

“There are scales in the bathroom. Go and weigh yourself.”

Feeling like a child being scolded by her mother, I trotted naked down the hall to the bathroom, weighed myself, checking a second time to ensure they were right, then returned to Mark.

“Well?” he enquired, giving me the familiar raised eyebrow look.

“148 lb” Against my better judgement, I did not lie.

“And what weight did you use to be?”

“120 lb” The truth hurt. For my size I was at least 20lb overweight. Not a disaster, but I was getting flabby and my weight was increasing alarmingly.

“I will give you an exercise program and a diet for you to follow. If you do not lose weight you will be punished. Is that clear?”

I opened my mouth in amazement. I knew that both Diane and Mark were both studying physical education at university, but this still gave him no right to treat me in such a manner.

I glared at Mark, but he just glared right back.

“Have I made myself clear?”

I hung my head in defeat. “Yes sir.”

“Very well. Lets move on. I am eager to settle the little ‘deal’ we have.”

My heart began to pound with trepidation, and again I felt light headed, followed quickly by nausea. Fear registered in my eyes. I quickly cupped my hands over my mouth as I dry-retched, and made a dash for the toilet fearing I was going to vomit.

Fortunately I didn’t and eventually I managed to settle my nerves down. Sheepishly I returned to Mark, who had not moved

“Are we ready now?” he enquired, seemingly showing a smidgen of concern for my wellbeing

“Yes sir”

I had expected him to head off down the hallway to the bedroom, but instead he went in the opposite direction towards the garage. Confused, I silently followed him, and we did indeed enter the garage. It was cold and dank, and full of old furniture and general rubbish. The floor was dirty. I had promised to clean it out for my young tenants so they could use it to park their car, but had not got around to it, figuring they had such a heap of a car it wouldn’t matter if it were left parked outside. I felt bad at my inaction.

Mark turned to me, “Did you, or did you not, promise to clear out this garage for us?”

I hung my head in genuine shame, “I promise I will get it done straight away”

“Good. But to reinforce your shameful conduct you are going to be punished, here, amongst the filthy mess.”

I looked around at the mess. “Please no, I promise I will have it cleaned tomorrow.”

“Too late for your promises.” With that Mark picked up a coil of rope from the floor. “Turn around”

Obediently I turned to face away from him. He reached around me with the rope and tied it tightly around my waist, restricting my breath. He then clasped my hands together and tied them to the back of my waist.

“Open your legs”

I slid my legs open, and felt Mark reach through with the rope. I let out a cry of surprise as I felt him pull my pussy lips open, placing the rope through the middle. The rope was then looped around itself at my waist in the front, then pulled back through my pussy. He fiddled around until he was sure it was tight to his satisfaction then secured it.

The feeling of the rope biting into my labia was painful and pinched my tender, sensitive genital region. But I knew it was also inflaming my arousal. It felt lustfully nasty, the way the control was taken away from me. I was totally in Mark’s hands for him to do with me what he wanted. It was an exotic cocktail I had never experienced before.

Mark then pushed me towards a dirty, stained old armchair that had lost half of its stuffing.

“Kneel on it,” he commanded, pointing to the chair.

Without question I hobbled to the chair, taking short shuffles due to the way the rope was pinching my labia when I moved. I knelt on the seat of the chair, and found I had to rest my head on the back of it to keep my balance. I could smell the stale mustiness of the old furniture.

I waited in silence. Having bent at the waist the rope was pulling even tighter over my anus and vagina. The more uncomfortable I felt, the more aroused I became. I prayed Mark would not notice. I could hear Mark looking around in the rubble, and suspected he was trying to find something suitable to beat me with. Finally I heard him give a grunt of approval. I held my breath and anticipated the pain.

When he struck me with the piece of flat wood he had in his hand I bounced forward with pain and came dangerously close to falling over the back of the chair. I was leaning over the back, trying to struggle back into position, when he struck me a second time. I cried out in surprise and toppled over the back of the chair, falling on a pile of rubbish. I fell in a heap, unable to protect myself as my hands were secured behind my back. I lay there helplessly, unable to get up, sobbing at the pain in my buttocks.

Mark’s hands roughly grabbed at my ropes and he levered me out of the rubbish. The ropes cut into me painfully. I was dirty and smelt. He positioned me back in the chair, my buttocks elevated. He spanked me hard two further times. My backside was on fire, and I sobbed profusely into the musty chair back.

Mark then took hold of my arm and roughly pulled me off the chair. I fell onto my knees on the dirty garage floor. When I looked up at Mark he had opened the front of his bathrobe, exposing his nakedness. His penis was full and erect, and seemed to be pointing accusingly at me. Without a word he took a handful of my hair and pulled me to his crutch

“Do it!” His tone was forceful. He had total control of me and this obviously gave him a great deal of sexual satisfaction.

I had never given oral sex before. The though of it was displeasing to me. But now, bound, beaten, and sexually stimulated, I never hesitated to take his penis deep inside my mouth. I really was unsure of quite what to do, but common sense told me to suck hard. As I did, Mark thrust his penis furiously in my mouth, manipulated my head by tugging back and forward on my hair.

Mark groaned and I felt the salty taste of his sperm ejaculating into my mouth. I gagged, but managed to swallow it down.

Mark removed himself from my mouth, and wiped the mixture of sperm and saliva off his penis using his bathrobe. I was aware some sperm was dribbling down my cheek. He took hold of my arm and pulled me to my feet. I wrongly assumed my ordeal was over.

Mark had another length of rope in his hand, and threw one end of it over a rafter. He tied one end to the rope that bound my arms, and then pulled hard on the other end. The rope pulled me upwards.

“Stand on your toes”

I obeyed, stretching as high as I could. Again the rope pulled tight, cutting into my labia and buttocks, and hurting my wrists. Mark tied the rope. I struggled to keep myself upright.

“Please let me down,” I pleaded.

“When I am ready,” he responded callously, before quickly turning and exiting the garage. He closed the door and I was left in darkness.

I cried out several times, begging him to come back, but realised it was helpless. I was scared but tried to relax. The dank darkness surrounded me. My senses were heightened. I call smell the mustiness and the rotting rubbish. But I could also smell my own sexual musk, permeating the garage. I realised, that despite being beaten and tied, and being frightened by being alone in the garage, I was sexually aroused. I pressed my pelvis down so that the rope bit even harder into my labia, then began to rotate myself luridly back and forth. Through the pain I managed to create a small amount of friction on my clitoris. I rotated back and forth for several long minutes, grimacing through the pain, covered in sweat from the excursion. I was almost exhausted when I finally felt my climax building. I so badly needed release, I jerked back and forward ruthlessly. When the orgasm hit it exploded through my body and I struggled to hold myself upright. A scream of pleasure escaped from deep inside me.

When the pleasure subsided, I was left only with the pain. I had rubbed myself raw. My legs ached from the pain of being forced to stand on my toes. Time dragged by and I silently begged for Mark to return and release me.

Finally the garage door opened and I was so pleased to see Mark, standing there, freshly showered and dressed. Surprisingly I was not angry, just relieved. He released the rope connecting me to the rafter. I found my legs would not support me and I fell forward onto Mark

“You stink!” he said with disgust, then laughed at me as he stepped out of the way and I fell to my knees. He pushed me forwarded so that I fell face first onto the dirty garage floor. He released my wrists, then roughly extracted the rope from deep within my buttocks and labia. I was raw and it hurt, and I moaned out load. I then gasped as he roughly rammed several fingers of his left hand deep into my vagina

“Fuck my fingers” he ordered.

My stomach and breasts slowly began to squirm on the dirt and mud of the garage floor. It was disgusting, but his fingers were pleasuring me and I began to lose control. Soon I was bucking up and down, begging Mark’s fingers to fuck me harder. It was obscene, but another intense orgasm washed over me and I screamed with pleasure.

I lay there exhausted, and when I finally had enough strength to get to my feet, Mark had gone. I looked down at my naked body. I was covered with a dirty sweat, and smelt of decay, sperm and my own juices. I gingerly made my way back into the house. It was empty. Quickly I found my clothing and dressed. Beside the door there was an envelope with my name on it. I took the envelope and hurriedly drove back to my own house. Once home I stood in the shower for the longest time, shaking my head in disbelief at what I had just endured.

After exiting the shower I wrapped a towel around myself and as I went to make a much-needed cup of coffee I noticed the envelope. Inside it was the rent money, plus a note attached to several pages.

The note read, ‘ See you in two weeks time when you come to collect the rent. I have attached your exercise program plus your diet. You will be weighed when you come to collect the rent. Much love M’.